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hard--headed--woman · 2 days

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Sorry for the very late post! I had to change my plans, because I wanted to talk about someone else but changed my mind for some reasons ; so I had to find another story and rewrite everything.

This time, the post isn’t going to be about one woman, but two. Last year, I had already made a post about these two women, but I couldn't just not talk about them this month given how amazing their story is.

Here is the story of :

Elisa and Marcela !

Marcela Gracia Ibeas and Elisa Sánchez Loriga got married on June 8, 1901, in A Coruña, at Galicia, in Spain. Their marriage was the first homosexual marriage in Spain since the Roman imperial era and happened more than 100 years before the country legalized homosexual marriages !

To achieve this, Elisa disguised herself as a man, and adopted a male identity, Mario Sánchez, which is the name on their marriage certificate. Their lie was later discovered, but their marriage was never annulled, and they remained married for the rest of their lives.

There is a Netflix movie about them if you want to see it. Though it has it flaws, I personally enjoyed it a lot, and from what I know, it is not too bad historically speaking. There's just one thing that happens in the movie that we are far from sure happened in real life. (I personally do not believe it did) Here's the trailer if you are interested! It's a very good movie in my opinion!

(But if you plan to watch it, maybe you shouldn't read the rest of the post as it's gonna spoil you everything lol)

The two young women met at the teacher training college in La Coruña. Marcela, 18, is a student there, while Elisa, 23, works there after completing the same course. They become friends, then lovers. Marcela's parents, fearing a scandal, send their daughter to study in Madrid, but this is not enough to put an end to their romance. Marcela is appointed teacher in Vimianzo, in the village of Calo, while Elisa, not far from there, works as a temporary replacement in Couso. They decided to live together in Calo until 1889, when Marcela left to teach in Dumbría, while Elisa remained in Calo. They kept in touch, writing to each other, until Elisa joined Marcela.

They live their love for years, hiding their relationship, until they get fed up and decide to hatch a plan to get married.

In 1901, Elisa adopted a masculine appearance. She created a past for herself based on a cousin who died in a shipwreck, and claimed to have spent her childhood in London with an atheist father. She was baptized as Mario on May 26, 1901, and made her First Communion under the same identity.

The couple married on June 8, 1901. A brief wedding ceremony was performed before witnesses, and the couple spent their wedding night in the Corcubión inn on Calle de San Andrés - Elisa and Marcela were officially the first Spanish homosexual couple to marry. Their plan was a success.

Unfortunately, the villagers began to have doubts and realized that this marriage was what they called "a marriage without a man".

The Galician and Madrid press reported the affair, and the two women lost their jobs, were excommunicated and placed under arrest.

Here's a picture of them after their arrest :

Despite this, and attempts by the Guardia Civil to prosecute them, their marriage was never annulled, and the two lovers managed to run away. Their story became famous in Spain and many other European countries.

(Un matrimonio sin hombre = a marriage without a man)

After that, we don't know what happened to them. The last thing we know fore sure about them is that they embarked on a ship bound for South America - perhaps Argentina, like so many other Spaniards of the time, where they spent their honeymoon and settled.

A book published in 2008 tries to tell their story after they left Spain for Argentina, but this books seems suspicious to a lot of people, including me, and I don't trust it so I am not going to talk about it but finding informations about it is easy if you are interested !

Anyway, this story is just incredible!!! It is so so important in lesbian history (though we do not really know if they were lesbian or bisexual. Elisa was probably a lesbian, but the book, based on some rumours, claimed that Marcela slept with a man in order to have a child, so she might have been bi if it is true) and so, so interesting. I can't believe it's not like 100× more famous. The fact that two women got married in 1901!!! Whith one of them dressed as a guy! I love it.

#lesbian #pride #lesbian pride #elisa y marcela #elisa and marcela #pride month #lesbian history

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 3 days

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Home

Introducing part 2 of stuff that's been rejected from publishers! I hope y'all enjoy :)

As the train station rumbled with movement, I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders and adjusted my mask. Better safe than sorry, my mother always said, and I tended to agree.

Even with the mask, the air reeked of ammonia. It stung my nostrils and made my eyes water. Damn, but I wanted to be back. The gantry was empty, automated stations blinking neon in the hazy air. I hopped over it and continued through, shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the tiles. Rare that the train station was in a train station, I thought.

The clock overhead warned me that it was almost midnight. Whyever they used an analogue clock in this day and age, I did not know. I watched its fourth hand speed towards 13. Just as it struck, the train sped into the station, the lights glinting off it like a kingfisher diving in the mangrove.

Its doors, several tons of solid gold, creaked open to reveal a single man, in a tophat and intricately embroidered vest. “Miss Maya,” he said, by way of greeting. His accent was impossible to place, vaguely refined with a peculiar emphasis on the sybilants.

I stepped into the train and returned his nod. We had met before, and courtesy never hurt. “Hama. Being daring today, aren't we? Sitting in an empty carriage?”

Hama shrugged. “Please, Miss Maya, do not fret over me like a hen. I am careful,” he told me. Unlike you went unsaid.

Maya and Hama were not our real names, of course. Those were far too valuable to hand out to another. But they were close enough for both our purposes.

I sank myself into the soft cushion. “Don't be ridiculous. You shouldn't have risked it, careful or not. You've heard what happened to the poor bastards who got caught by it, haven't you?”

Hama sighed. “Yes, but ‘twas almost midnight,” he explained, a hint of melancholy in his dry voice. “I was thinking of the rumours.” Beneath us, the train rumbled into motion, grinding gears and pumping steam.

“The rumours, huh?” We had all heard of them. They were lies, of course. The idea that the midnight train held any special powers was… Tempting. “You should've known how dangerous believing that crap is.”

Hama just shook his head. Briefly, I regretted chiding him. These train rides were long infuriating, and often dreary beyond belief. Having someone willing to talk with me was worth a lot sometimes.

“I'm sorry, Hama,” I said, when the pause between us stretched too long. “You don't need the reminder, do you?”

Quietly, he said, “‘Tis just- Do you not miss it?”

I froze. We did not speak of it. Nobody with half a grain of sense did. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.

“I have not seen it in five years, Miss,” he continued. “My wife will be old and wrinkled by the time I get home. My sons will have grown up. My daughter would be married, without me to give her my blessings. Do you know what that feels like, Miss Maya? To watch the world go by?”

I swallowed the knot in my chest, and said, “I know. Believe me, I do.”

Hama ran his fingers through his overgrown hair. “How long has it been for you? You are so young, I cannot imagine it has been more than three years.”

“Two,” I said, quietly enough that my voice was swallowed by the train.

Hama had sharp ears, however. “Two years? Your formative years, then. That is a travesty,” he informed me with avuncular concern.

A laugh bubbled out of my chest. It sounded just like the ammonia in the station I had just departed from, sting-sharp and hateful. “Not two years,” I replied, grimly amused.

“Two decades.”

He blinked. “You hardly look a day over sixteen,” he told me, finally. “It simply cannot be.”

“Have you not noticed? We do not age here. My hair has not grown an inch since the day I began wandering. Our wounds do not heal. Old Akat died from blood loss after she stepped on a nail. So believe me when I say, I too am careful.” The last words emerged in a hiss, barely more than the steam that powered our train.

“I- Twenty years? I cannot imagine how painful that must be, and with you so young. You poor-” The squealing of the train's halt cut off the rest of his words, sparing me the pain of telling him about the lonely nights, the shivering desperation that had festered in my heart, the slow death of a hope that should never have existed in the first place.

The doors swung open, and I fled out. The lands beyond were smoggy, thick with mist and carbon monoxide. Yet I could see the telltale signs of suburbia beyond. They reminded me of the days before, and it twisted the knife Hama had stabbed my bruised heart with. So I snapped, with a childish vengefulness, “And there's no such thing as a way back!”

The doors clanged shut firmly on my back, and Hama left with them. It was dangerous to be on a train alone, of course, but he had willingly taken that risk in the name of what… A rumour? That the midnight train would take you home?

Foolishness, I insisted, and tried to ignore the way the streetlights looked just the way they had twenty years ago. The streets were so similar, too. There were the potted plants lining the sidewalks, forcing me to walk on the roads home. There were the birdcages and the washing machines beneath crowded canopies.

The tracks disappeared behind me, leaving me exactly where I had left twenty years ago. The road signs were identical. I was on the right street, too. Just a short way away from a house I had once resided in.

It was absurd, of course. Once you wandered, you would never find your way home again. Everyone knew that.

Still, the worm of hope gnawed at the apple core of my soul. I kicked a stone angrily, as though that would chase the emotion away. It did not, and I continued striding grimly.

But if I truly believed I could not go home, why did I continue wandering? Why not settle down like Haru did, in some strange town with four-eyed people? Why not make a new place to live and call… Well, a place to live. I could not bring myself to say the word, even after all those years away.

That house was different, I noted with fierce satisfaction. There had never been a house with a green roof in the past. That settled it, of course. My paranoia was simply acting up again.

Yet- a lot could change in two decades. It might even have been more than that, for all I knew. I had met a wanderer who forgot their own name, once. A couple of years could have easily gone amiss.

Before I could banish the niggling thought, my over-sharp eyes caught the next house's number. 542. Just a short distance from my old ho- habitat.

Damn, but I wanted to go back.

What could it hurt? If I went there and proved to myself I was not, in fact, back, I could put the irritant to rest once and for all. My feet took me along the path I had once taken back from school. Or a close mimicry of it, at least.

I came upon the house sweating slightly. Not out of excitement. I merely wanted to get it over and done with, to rid myself of this compulsion.

The lawn was slightly overgrown, utterly unlike how my father would have left it. The roof had more than a few tiles that needed replacing. Our swing was there, but the rope was fraying. The fault of time, or a sloppy trap.

The lights were on. Warm light shone through the windows. I could here people moving about, eating and chatting and doing whatever it was people did in their locations of staying. I had almost forgotten how such things went, with no need to eat or drink.

It was probably a trap, a lie, or one of those odd coincidences that occurred sometimes. Pressing that doorbell, which looked nothing like my old one, was a ridiculous idea. Yet my finger was drawn to it like a moth to flame.

The bell rang like the train's whistle.

With the scuffing of chairs and curious exclamations, the door swung open. An old woman, her skin wrinkled with liver spots, stood on the other side. “Eh?” She narrowed her eyes at me.

Before common sense could take over, I pulled down my hoodie and took off my mask, baring my face to the world.

The woman made a small choking noise. “M- May-”

“Maya,” I said quickly, the way I told the strangers I met on my wanderings. “Call me Maya.” What she would call me had I not interrupted, I did not want to know.

“Oh.” She deflated slightly. Her ugly flower-print dress did remind me of my mother's sense of fashion. “You remind me of my daughter, was all. Though you're much too young to be her. Ah, what was the matter?”

I froze. What was I to say: ‘Hello, I have been frozen in time for twenty years wandering world to world and boy, you sure look like my mother aged up by two decades'?

The silence stretched on. It was doing a lot of that recently, I noted. “You remind me of my mother, too,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper, not needing the train's clanging to drive it underground. “Though it has been twenty years since I last saw her.”

The woman who looked awfully like my mother stared into my eyes. “James? Come here. There's something you need to see,” she cried, in lieu of something better to say.

James was my father's name too. Another funny coincidence. The old man who wheeled himself to the door had an uncanny semblance to him too, though my real father would never have ended up in a wheelchair.

He looked up and me and let a little gasp out. “It- Oh my god, it can't be. Allison, are you seeing this?”

My mother had been named Allison. I was reminded of another one of her favourite sayings. ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.’ This had to be a trap. Yet, for some reason, I could not bring myself to leave.

The woman who could not possibly be my mother told him, “She says her name is Maya.”

He regarded me thoughtfully. “What's your favourite juice, kid? And who were your best friends in primary five?”

“I'm torn between apple and grape juice, and my closest friends were Betty and Qi Le, though I hung out with Josh a lot too,” I answered promptly, before cursing myself. What was I doing, handing out private information? That was how wanderers got caught! “Go on, tell me: what did your daughter make for you for science class when she was 10?”

Allison and James, my parents' doppelgangers, exchanged another concerned glance. “I’ll do you one better than that,” Allison told me. She reached back into the room and brought out a little clay dragonfly. “This was a part of the set yo- I mean, she made. The larvae and the eggs are lost, but we kept this.”

I did not know whether to laugh or weep. It was green. The one I had made was blue. Oxidation, a part of me whispered. Lies, the other bit cried. “Yep,” I whispered. “That's the one.”

“You had best come inside,” James said, his motorised wheelchair whirring slightly as he backed into the kitchen. My father was braver than that. He would not back away from discomfort. “Would you like some apple juice?”

“Oh, I don't really eat or drink anymore.” I smiled bitterly at their horrified expressions and stepped past Allison into the room. “It all comes right back up again.”

I had tried, of course. I had gulped down water from a dozen streams, begged food off of strange people and taped my mouth shut to keep it down. No matter what I did, my intestines simply rejected it. I could never feel full. I could never feel hungry. I had learnt to accept it long ago, but I could never feel truly alive.

I took up my old place at the table, in the corner next to the old bookshelf. It was still there, though its contents were devoid of all my young adult romances. “What are you?” Allison had a slight roundness to her eyes. Fear. I felt the same when she clenched her fist up. Old though she was, even a single blow from her had the potential to kill me.

“I am a girl who walked into a strange train station in the middle of the street twenty years ago, and wandered for two decades since,” I told her bluntly. It was the same line I gave all my hosts. “How are Qi Le and Betty?”

My mother's brow crinkled and she blinked away a couple of tears. “Is it really you? I- I mean- It's been so long, and you haven't aged a bit. You know, Qi Le's got a little boy. He's hardly younger than you were when you…” She shrugged.

“Wandered off,” I finished. I crossed my arms. “Qi Le would never have a kid. She's deathly afraid of pregnancy. So the question remains: How do I know it's really you?” I glanced down at her leg, the skirt covering her calf. “Still have your tattoo?”

It might have been better to walk off there and then. Damn, but I wanted to go back. I actually wanted to be back on my train and my endless worlds. “Of course it's me,” Allison snarled, sharper than my mother ever would have at me. “And Qi Le adopted, for heaven's sakes! You're the one who doesn't eat or drink, who hasn't blinked since you came in, and whose expression barely changes!”

“Your tattoo,” I repeated. I had come to terms with what I was long ago. It was… tolerable.

My ‘mother’ went peculiar. Her face slackened and eyes went blank, like a marionette without a puppeteer. I got up and began walking to the door. Of course it was a lie. Twenty years wandering, and I still had the foolishness to believe rumours? I was worse than Hama.

“Maya, right?” My ‘father’ waved to me from his place in the kitchen, as I crossed the door's threshold. “Pardon your mother. We aren't so young anymore, kiddo. The stress has been a bit too much for her.” He wheeled himself up the ramp, which had not been there when I last at my house, and gently prodded Allison. She jerked herself back upright and inhaled sharply.

“I’m fine,” my ‘mother’ snapped. “And as for my tattoo, I had it removed. My wrinkling skin was ruining it. It's been twenty years, Mayra. Twenty years, and you haven't aged a day. What the hell happened to you?”

Mayra was my name. Or, it had been many years ago. “I don't know,” I admitted. “It just did.” What was I even doing here? On the tiny, tiny off chance that this was real, it would only hurt me. “Qi Le's got a kid? What's he like?”

With the same exhaustion that permeated her entire being, my mother sighed. “Here, take this and phone her.” She handed me a little metal slide.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” I shook it slightly. “And where's the cordless? It was dope.” I had been so proud of the old thing.

“Oh, sweetie,” James said. “It's been twenty years. Things have changed since then. Phones are smaller these days, and they're all cordless.” He took the phone from me and tapped on it.

That settled it. I had seen my fair share of strange technologies, and nothing from the world I once came from looked even slightly like this. Even so, I accepted the phone when James returned it, and pressed it to my ear.

“Hey, QL,” I said, when she picked up the call. “It's me.”

There was nothing but static on the other end. Finally, she responded, sniffling slightly as she did so. “If this is a prank, it's not a very good one. Mayra died a long time ago, but that doesn't make it alright to joke about it.” Her voice was so husky, so unlike her.

“It's me,” I repeated. “Did you get to go with Kyle to prom?”

Qi Le took a shuddering breath. “Where have you been, you idiot? And no, Kyle went with Gwen. You know, the stupid mean girl in our class? Yeah, and she's the CEO of some big shot company now. Kyle married a man. I got to go to their wedding. Damn it, I spent three years hunting all over the country for you. Your parents- They cried themselves to sleep every night. How could you?”

There had never been a Gwen in our class. Had my memory failed me, or was this a lie that swept by? And Kyle- Kyle who always talked about girl's looks? Ridiculous. I listened to her tirade silently. “Hey- Mayra, you still there? I'm sorry, it's just been a long day. Kai got detention, you know, and God, I'm just so worried about him.”

“Kai's your son?” The idea of Qi Le, ever the rebel, being upset over her kid getting detention seemed hypocritical to me.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “He's a little brat, but he tries his best. He goes to the school that replaced ours. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. We can chat in person. That is, if you want.”

“Tell me something first,” I murmured into the phone. “What was my last name?”

Qi Le scoffed. “It's been two decades, May. I don't remember things as good as I used to. Also, you still sound like a kid.” She exhaled loudly. “It was Brown, wasn't it? Mayra Brown.”

“Hmm,” I replied, noncommittal. “Mom? Pops?’

The people who called themselves my parents perked up. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“What's our last name?”

My father laughed. “Have you forgotten all that already? It's Brown. You used to say it was the colour of your hair.”

I smiled wanly. “QL? You still there?” The vague sound of water came from the phone.

“Yeah, just gotta wash the dishes. You need me to pick you up?” I could picture her, wearing gloves up to her elbows to protect her overly sensitive skin. The motherly tone in her voice matched nothing I ever remembered, however.

Damn, but I wanted to go… Home.

There. I said it. I missed home. I missed the world I had once lived in. I missed my family, my school and my friends. Perhaps, just perhaps, this had been home once. Certainly, if I squinted, it looked similar enough. But my friends had grown up, my school was torn down, my parents old and withered.

The home I remembered was no more. But I could start over, just like Haru and Venn and all the other wanderers who had settled down.

“No,” I said. “It's fine. I'm already home. Thanks for everything. Tell Betty to keep grooving, and hopefully without those fugly bell jeans.” Before she could respond, I hung up.

Turning to my parents, I threw my arms around my mother, then bent down to hug my father. “If you really are my parents,” I whispered, just loud enough to hear, “Then I'm grateful to see you again.”

With the same caution I had thrown to the wind earlier, I disentangled myself from them. They smelled different, of pills and age. My mother brushed my cheek slightly. “Come on, Mayra, and tell us everything.”

“Alright,” I said, and allowed myself to be led back home.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finickyfelix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @oliolioxenfreewrites (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #spilled ink #short story

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fatedbutblinking · 24 hours

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meeting the parents. jason grace x eros daughter

jason and eros' only half-blood daughter are in love

everyone knew that about them but they refused to admit that it was true to everyone, each other and themselves

then they 'accidentally' sleep with each other one night

despite trying to be the perfect and detached leader, jason can't help but confess first

not only is she the most beautiful girl that he has ever seen, but she pushes him to be the best version of himself. she's caring but biting. she's excited him since the day he met her. and she is really good in bed so

and she thinks his arms are sexy

then comes parent day, one day a year where all the gods are forced to spend the full day on earth with their children

as the only daughter of eros and with jason being one of zeus' only children, zeus and eros decide to take them out for a nice meal

zeus and eros aren't keen on each other, because eros keeps trying to shoot arrows at him and human ladies to piss off zeus' wife hera

soo it's a bit awkward

'i can't believe you're in love with a boy who looks like he should be on a cereal box.'

jason almost spits out his water.

'dad,' she hisses.

'it's like dating peter pan on steroids.'

'nice,' jason jokes.

'don't push it, eros,' she hisses again.

'they're barely dating. of course my son is going to be drawn to a barbie doll.'

'don't talk about her like that,' jason says sternly.

'it's not bad to admit that. she's shiny. it's a good break for you, son.'

jason shakes his head. 'you're such a --'

eros ignores what zeus says and continues to her. 'i know you're in love with him. i can feel how much you do, trust me, and i know he loves you more -- obviously -- but you should still keep your options open.'

zeus puffs his chest. 'of course you're encouraging disloyalty, eros.'

'you're not exactly a saint, zeusy.'

'and whose fault is that?'

'the arrows don't force you to fall in love. they only make you do what you otherwise would if logic wasn't in the picture.'

'i'm already tired of being here.'

'then you shouldn't have made the plan.'

'i had to. you would have taken them to a brothel otherwise.'

'fuck off.'

and so zeus and eros argue

jason and her look at each other. she grasps his hand.

'i'm sorry.'

'no, i'm sorry. your hair is very shiny, but i love you for a lot more than that.'

'really now?' she teases.

'yeah. i like your face, your body, your lips...'

'very funny, grace.'

'i'm more than my looks as well, you know.'

'i don't know. i think he's right about you looking like peter pan. the buffer, sexier, more stupid version.'

'ha-ha-ha.'

'i am sorry, jase. you'd think my dad being the god of love and affection would mean he'd be nice.'

'don't be sorry. they're gods. they're always going to think they're right.'

'but they're our fathers.'

'even more reason for them to think they're right.'

'i love you.'

'i love you more. your dad's not wrong about that part.'

suddenly they notice it is really quiet around them. both zeus and eros are staring at them, having listened to part of their conversation. they seem to be a little bit shocked, but regain their composure quickly. eros ends up smirking, folding his arms on his chest and leaning back as he stares at them. zeus watches them with curiosity, eating an olive.

'what?' he asks. 'what is it?'

'have you two picked what you want to eat?' zeus asks, motioning to the menu.

'i thought you guys wanted to leave,' she says.

'it just happens that you're obsessed with each other,' cupid explains. 'i should at least try to find out why.'

zeus nods. that's the first time that they agree with each other. both of their heads dart towards the menu as they bicker over what food they're going to get.

jason smiles softly and holds her hand. she is a bit in shock now.

'guess we're hard to deny,' he says.

'we? i'm the shiny one,' she jokes, squeezing his hand back.

#jason grace #percyjacksonxreader #percy jackson headcanon #jason grace x reader #jason grace x eros daughter #jason x reader #greek god #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x oc #hoo

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pillars-of-salt · 7 months

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It feels so surreal and unbelievable to be living my life each day safe, fed, in my home, while half a world away Palestine continues to be bombed. I can't think about anything else. I'm crying every day, grieving and caring for people I won't ever meet, whose suffering I am helpless to stop in any direct way. I don't even have words for this, for 10,000 people to lose their lives, kids, families, first responders and reporters, hospitals and schools and refugee camps bombed while the world looks on. entire families lost to rubble. it is horrific. I am sorry. I feel insane. How is this the world we live in? How can this be allowed to happen? while all we can do is watch?

#I know it is far beyond me to act as an authority or like it's about my feelings at all and i'm not trying to do that.#i just need to get these thoughts articulated somehow #i feel like i'm going insane seeing how world leaders are responding. where is your humanity?? do you not understand what's happening??#how are you not falling to your knees weeping and tearing your hair out? how can you see people suffering like this and be detached from it #i am so sorry. i don't know. this shouldn't be happening.#the resilience and hope and care palestinians are showing is incredible beyond belief. i wish they did not have to be strong like this.#i would pray but if god exists he should be begging the people of palestine to forgive him for allowing this to happen #i feel so helpless. so guilty. so full of grief. i wish i could hold all those kids and comfort them and rock them to sleep.

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navree · 3 months

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unfortunately the percy jackson show means percy jackson discourse which means i once more have to see dogshit takes about rachel elizabeth dare, who did literally nothing except have a relationship with a boy she liked for a couple months, but the freaks are at it again because there's no worse crime in the world than being a girl getting in the way of a ship for a nanosecond

#personal #if i am not defending rachel elizabeth dare from freaks it's because i'm dead #'a greedy and ungenerous soul' she was fifteen???? calm down????#why are you at your big age talking like that about a literal child??????#like sorry that annabeth was incapable of opening her mouth about her crush and someone else happened to be more verbose #that ain't rachel's fault #if annabeth didn't want percy dating she should have communicated better that's not anyone else's problem #rachel and percy liked each other so they went out and then they ended the relationship like that's so normal #and from a doylist perspective it's painfully obvious rachel was there as a lil bump in the road before percy and annabeth got together #so why are you getting bent out of shape about it she was never a threat #and if you shouldn't be pissy about it now anyway when they've been together for like multiple series at this point #and are gonna get together in the show too #like goddamn i'm two steps away from going full percabeth anti just because people can't be normal about rachel for some reason #and i LIKE percabeth #honestly i don't know why twitter feels the need to show me fandom takes they're never good no matter which fandom it is

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tankgotstuckinthecircusgate · 2 months

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i could draw anything but i decided to draw this. carlo and rocco in 1932 aka my headache

#^ this isnt real ofc but its what happening inside their heads (well in carlo's at least)#mfs when their old friend doesn't break under manipulation #“Lift up the receiver I'll make you a believer” punching the wall with fist #rocco was the underboss not eddie can u hear me!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO!!!!!!!!! (capo henry situation in terms of complexity)#no m2 did smth to my brain and now im incapable of writing normal relationship between people #anyway. things that makes sense only to me rn unfortunately:#“AND YET ALAS I WELCOME YOU KNOWING ABOUT YOU” its carlo @ rocco but works both ways i think. RAHHHHHHHHH #YET YOU THINK WE'RE THE SAME RAHHHHHHHHH #youre not who u are to anyone these days im not who i am to anyone no not me at all these days not at all RAHHHHHHHHH #carlo who was afraid of rocco (for a reason) when he started to run the family rahhhhhhhhh #“That son of a bitch!.. I fuckin’ knew it!” <-watch me put a lot more meaning into a phrase that shouldn't make so much sense #2kczech need to pay me for developing rocco's character btw if u even care . and for writing this fucking falcone family backstory #“Холодный и острый осколок гранита; Смерть Голиафа в руке Давида”#<- “A cold and sharp shard of granite; Goliath's death in David's hand”#i've listened to this song too much it became certifed rocco song to me #let's say rocco helped carlo a lot w preparing moretti family for a new don. just bc i don't think it was this simple #“your capo killed your don lets all pretend that its cool and normal and it doesn't matter that he ran the family for 23 years😋😘”#avart #m2 #i wont tag this w fandom tags dear god this shit is so delusional #dear god rocco been a gap and a blank spot in this story for so long but now i genuinely like him #tho i'm still not done with his character yet but there's enough for me to like him #sorry. not normal bout them. not at all .#rocco & carlo

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peppermintmochafem · 9 days

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#Um she told me she's in love with me and if anything happens to know I'm hot and she wants me #And then went into a lot of detail just repeating over and over the things she wants / fantasies about me incoherently #Which I'm sure means nothing right #I know this is complicated for her she hates being attracted to me but it is hard to have her be like this is bad when she says she wants m #I don't know what to do #personal #tbdeleted #Triggering for me yikes #messy messy messy #Honestly think she is just grieving so its latching onto me as a woman she can love in a safe way #And I am glad I can be that I guess like obviously she needs that and I want to keep her safe #But I know I can't and she even said it #Like I know she will go home and then be gone forever #I think I am already grieving her in a way #And she has hurt many people I love dearly #Hurt them in deeply upsetting triggering ways that aren't okay and don't make me feel safe #She really lacks understanding of consent and that hurts people but I know she does want me and i think if I tried to stop her I could #I shouldn't be in situations where I am unsure of that though but at the same time it's like if something happens it happens #Idk how much of this is my own issues and thinking I'm not deserving of safe respectful sex and intimacy and my own guilt for everything #And how much of it is her own issues and guilt and grief #But I know I can be safe and loving for her #And I do know there is genuine love there no matter what other factors there are #Anyways sorry if you read all that I am giving you the biggest forehead kisses #I just think about how different it might have been if I had *** **** *** ** *** *** ****** ** *****#I thought I couldn't cope if I had but how can I cope that I didnt #I should have *** *** *** when I could have #This is unrelated but its all tangled up and it's just been bad trauma day already #If I had **** * ****** **** if I had *** *** if I had **** ***** or #Anyways **** ***** ****** **

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steakout-05 · 3 months

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eeuuaghh i would like everyone to know that i apologise if i have not responded to your reblogs/mentions/posts on tumblr, i have really terrible social anxiety and for some reason people talking to me makes my nervous system think i'm being hunted for sport by a resident evil boss. sorry if i havent responded i'm not being rude i'm just having a panic attack :P

additionally: social anxiety is actually the reason why a lot of my old posts from late 2022 had weird spacing and spelling mistakes. i was too anxious to type properly

#sorry this seems like a random thing to post but it has been bugging me for a little bit now and i want to post it #and by a little bit i mean the entire time i've been on this website #as for the reason i have social anxiety: i went to a really terrible high school full of dangerous people-#-who were literally like. the worst most bigoted people ever. not everyone there was bad of course but 90% of them were-#-and that stunted by social development by 5-6 years and now every time someone talks to me i feel like i'm about to get murdered #also primary school was. bad. the other kids could sniff out the autism in me and didn't like me for it #this post isn't directed towards anyone specifically but also it kinda is because there's a DM from someone-#-that i haven't responded to in literally 8 months and every time i think about it i get anxious #i'm sorry!!! i'm not trying to ignore you on purpose and i want to say something but my brain literally will not let me out of fear :(#i'm not used to getting talked to directly so every time i do my entire nervous system starts screaming and running in circles #it's kinda ridiculous because it's like. come on. why are you having a panic attack over a message on tumblr it's LITERALLY just words on-#-a screen what are you freaking out about. but also it's like hhhhh unfamiliar social situation scary. help.#unrelated to that but i am very worried about what people will think of me and like i know i really shouldn't worry about that-#-because i can't control what other people think of me and it really shouldn't be any of my or their business. but also-#-i have legitimate trauma that backs my fears up and every time someone is even slightly critical towards me my brain just goes-#-''see? it happened again i TOLD you it would happen again. idiot. you shouldn't have said anything''#and then i hide and cry and lay in bed thinking about how i'm going to die until i suddenly snap out of it and think-#-''wait hang on why should i care. i love being a weirdo on the internet why should i let my anxieties stop me''#and then it happens AGAIN and it's just a viscous cycle at that point #be silly on the internet -> detect slight criticism -> think everyone hates you again -> go back on your bullshit after 3 days of crying #and it makes sense because that exact same pattern happened to me countless times as a child.#be silly in school -> get made fun of for it -> get hated for it -> rinse and repeat until you think everyone is dangerous and they hate yo #if i could put it in a metaphor it would be like me being a little rabbit who thinks everyone is a scary wolf because of their big shadows-#-even though they're all also rabbits and i'm just paying attention to the scariest parts of them because i only know what wolves look like #trauma does fucked up things to your psyche lemmie tell you #social anxiety #anxiety disorder #i'm literally the ''too scared to order food'' stereotype except it's not a stereotype because it's real and every time i look at the 7/11-#-at my campus i go ''hm but what if they hate me for the food i buy there'' even though they're LITERALLY SELLING IT what is WRONG with me #anyway um. social anxiety sucks and i don't mean to not reply ro everyone who talks to me i am sorr y

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musical-chick-13 · 11 months

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Well folks, it finally happened. After over ten years of creating (and even occasionally posting!) fic......I am finally writing m/m.

#seems like we're going from zero to 100 right out of the gate on this first outing too #okay it's more like. zero to 80 probably #but you know. still.#I saw a Thing™ and I got. Mad. so now we're creating out of spite :)#part of me is surprised that THIS is the pairing that finally got me here but like honestly I really shouldn't be #this is what happens when people are needlessly mean to characters I like #my god I hope I don't regret this I do not have a handle on this particular pairing at ALL #there's not a mentally troubled woman involved what do I even DO here #*crossing my fingers praying to every deity anyone has ever believed in* please just be a 3k fic please just be a 3k fic please just be-#(^if it becomes much longer than that I am putting it on hold and going back to Other Things IMMEDIATELY)#I am so sorry to anyone who had any investment in me completing literally anything else ;-;

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bonebirds · 1 year

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This got long but I'm fucking pissed. Content warnings for abuse mentions, trafficking mentions, discourse about discourse to prevent future discourse, "proshipper" nonsense, grooming, etc.

This is gonna be the one time I open my mouth about this because haha, hey, years of internalized fear and shame. I'm trying to lay down a boundary and that comes with so much anticipated backlash.

I do, for the record, have a background in Yelling about the crossroads of media/culture/literature/academia/games studies/trauma/capitalism. Which is a wide range and we can thank my comp exams in the PhD for that.

Since this is tumblr I also gotta just do the fuckin' disclaimer before anyone else feels like doing the "if you don't publicly condemn xyz then I'm gonna make your day worse" thing:

I don't participate in fandom and I don't ship things. I'm not about to defend specific instances or pairings because everything exists in subjective contexts, and texts especially so. But also, I have graduate degrees in English and text analysis and lived experience with CSA and trafficking that went on for a long fucking time. And I am very, very tired of being called the worst things you can call a trauma survivor because I don't care about shipping.

I'm not anti-ship, or whatever. I am not down for imposing my own trauma, feelings about it, and opinions on others in order to censor their art. Call me a proshipper if you want -- ignoring the part where I don't write fanfic or participate in fandom -- because I agree with them. I condemn CSA/CSEM, abusers, predators, the entire evil side of humanity but people who write fic aren't that. Neither are people who read it, even the most problematic of the problematic.

People can write, as fiction, as fantasy, whatever they want. There are no real people being harmed. I can distinguish between those things and, again, am a survivor of some very intense abuse. You're welcome to disagree. I'm fine with that if you're fine with me. I don't believe in absolutes when it comes to topics this complicated (and it is). I spent years on the opposite side, actually, because just the MENTION of things like incest or age gaps triggered me. And then I would do the same and get mad at the people writing it.

This is not healthy and it is not healing on either side of the argument.

But also in treating everything like such a monolithic moral purity test, where you're either good or deserve to suffer -- a test that I fail, because there is no room for things like Complexity -- you just spent a lot of time telling me I'm as bad as the people who trafficked me. Because of fiction. Because of fake things happening to fake people, based on an idea in someone else's head, people's real harm and real trauma means we're as bad as their abusers. That is so heavily the implication in so much of this talk. If I don't disregard my degrees, my training, my own experiences, my own principles and take a stand against people shipping things on the internet, I must basically be a predator!

That is violent and fucked up.

I don't want you around here, so block me and get it over with.

I (like a lot of people with trauma histories) use fiction and writing to process and heal. I don't even post them. A lot of that writing, and being able to seek it out, was helpful. It was a connection to someone else out in the world who maybe understood a little bit of the pain and fear and confusion.

There's a difference between fiction and real abuse. And the "but predators use it to groom vulnerable children" angle barely holds water -- predators use anything. Mainstream TV shows. Vending machine snacks. Gumballs. Access to a remote control to change a channel. A lot of things are more accessible and friendly to kids than making them read. Advocating for censorship, especially in today's political hellhouse, is not actually helpful. It just feels really righteous.

Which doesn't mean there aren't those trying to leverage fic to "normalize" abuse and grooming, I absolutely believe they have and do, but that does not justify externalizing your pain and trauma onto others, or policing them, or trying to take control back by claiming an imaginary moral high ground and pinning other people to it. It also doesn't mean that censoring the internet of all things icky to you saves the world, the kids, anything. It just means they'll find easier avenues, of which there are already so many. It also means you're all just attacking people from a place of presumed hurt rather than compassion, curiosity, anything like that.

So.

Anyone whose stance on this entire thing boils down to "you agree with me or you're a secret pedo enabler," you need to leave.

I'm happy to talk about it if you want! I don't think people trying to draw those lines are right but I think they're well-intentioned, until they start calling me shit that triggers entire mental collapses. You know. In the name of saving the children. Which hasn't been a red flag for conservatism and oppression for hundreds of years or anything, either. How many kids do you think are protected by shutting down places they can actually go and talk about the darkest shit in their heads? How many of us just suffer unbearable pain and isolation because the culture around us is shame-based and if you think about things like that, you're Just Like Them?

This ain't about protecting kids, basically. This discourse never has been. It's about being righteous and never examining why that is. It's about lashing out and displacement. I think the concern for victims is real, like I said, but that concern can translate to actual, real help elsewhere. People are DOING the work to make the internet safer. This? Is not that work.

You are responsible for how you manage your trauma and pain, and that has to include not taking it out on others. Full stop. Even when you disagree. Even when everything in your brain is going DANGER ALARMS DANGER ALARMS DANGER ALARMS WE MUST STOP THIS because someone ships something you think is wrong or uncomfortable. It sucks, and it sucks we have to do that, and it sucks we have to learn how. None of us asked to. None of us wanted to end up here. It's not victim blaming to say you're accountable for your own recovery.

But while you are here, maybe consider that the name/shame/blame model hasn't been working either. For hundreds of fucking years. We know shame doesn't motivate people to care, or learn.

But especially when you're weaponizing shame against trauma survivors for recognizing their own experiences in literature, art, stories. We all struggle with toxic shame. Using it against people until they agree with you?

Holy shit just look in the mirror one day, I guess. But block me first.

#sorry but i really am done being called this shit #by people who don't know me or my history and shouldn't feel entitled to knowing it so i can #the things saving people are being done in places other than twitter and tumblr #pass some bullshit binary test in their brain #by people who know what they're doing #not oh my god can't overstate this #not by attacking traumatized people because you think you got this equation figured out #thousands of years of philosophy and art but yes you found the answer #and it's conveniently so simple and straightforward!#sorry I'm obviously triggered and going #...none of these are new opinions for the record #talking just to change my mind is not gonna happen #like please just go i can't deal and i hope yall find less toxic and actually actionable ways to help people at risk #the look on my therapist's face when i had to be like children are cyberbullying me for liking fucked up fiction #because no one off the internet thinks like this

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