#however his father is french i believe… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incorrectbatfam · 1 year

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The batfam as teacher comment section in report card.

Dick: Mr. Grayson brings a contagious energy to the class and his enthusiasm is well-appreciated. However, he tends to channel that energy very physically and while that may benefit his learning, it's a disruption to other students. This is a frequently recurring issue that I would like to discuss with a parent or guardian.

Translation – Is this kid ADHD because he won't sit the FUCK down

Jason: Mr. Todd has displayed remarkable attention to detail and a love of literature that I can only attribute to positive reinforcement at home, and he's always a pleasure to have in class. As much as I appreciate seeing him apply his lessons outside of school hours, I believe there are more productive avenues of discussing Shakespearean playwriting with his peers than what he has been reportedly doing.

Translation – Stop biting your thumb at people

Tim: Mr. Drake continues to exceed expectations in his schoolwork, but his attendance and participation may become a detriment to his overall grades if unaddressed. I have caught him sleeping in class on multiple occasions but he has yet to provide me a reason why he is so tired. Additionally, last month one of our monitors caught him loitering in the bathroom with a note that I did not recall writing.

Translation – Get some sleep and also you can't make your own hall passes

Damian: I have had the privilege of teaching the Wayne family through my decades at this institution and I believe that Damian takes after his father the most in more ways than expected. His grades are stellar and he is well-organized, but I'm noticing familiar and concerning traits in his attitude and social interactions. I am requesting a meeting with his parent to understand the full context so I can devise a plan for out how to best support him.

Translation – Forget falling, the apple is still on the damn tree

Duke: Mr. Thomas has been a pleasure to have in my chemistry lab and is always willing to help classmates who are struggling. However, after last week's minor combustion reaction mishap, I think it would be worthwhile to review the lab safety packet that all students received at the beginning of the year.

Translation – How did you set water on fire

Cullen: Mr. Row displays a passion for transformative literature and demonstrates a clear understanding of modern media culture that has helped him synthesize a lot of our complex readings. However, I'm concerned about his laptop being a distraction, especially with numerous incidences of him looking at non-academic material.

Translation – Quit reading fanfics in class

Stephanie: You should be pleased to know that Miss Brown consistently keeps the well-being of her peers in mind. This semester, she launched a meal initiative for students whose needs could not be met by the school cafeteria. While we value her good intentions, she has been causing hallway obstructions and there are some regulatory concerns that we need to discuss.

Translation – She sold pancakes in the halls without a permit

Cassandra: Although Miss Cain is relatively quiet in class, she continues to blow me away with her breadth of knowledge not just on class materials, but also interpersonal details. While this is a good skill to cultivate, we ask that she dial it back especially with our faculty. Additionally, please remember that the teacher's lounge is a staff-only space and students should remain in the common areas.

Translation – She knows too much

Barbara: Miss Gordon is easily one of the best AP Computer Science students I've seen in my twenty years of teaching. She even went above and beyond the scope of our class to apply what we've learned to a greater school context. While that is deserving of credit, I'd also like to remind her that, in the future, certain ideas should be subjected to careful consideration before actions are taken.

Translation – She hacked the lunch menu to make every day French Fry Friday

Harper: Miss Row has a remarkable aptitude for the engineering process that exceeds beyond what students her age can typically grasp, and she is very inventive in her own right. That being said, I would appreciate it if she followed our lesson plans more closely and reviewed our guidelines for woodshop safety so everyone can continue to have a positive experience.

Translation – She made a working crossbow out of popsicle sticks

Carrie: Miss Kelley is a bright student who brings positive energy that is very much needed, especially in morning classes. However, she's been falling behind with several missing assignments at this point, and her explanations for why she cannot finish her work don't seem to be sufficient.

Translation – "Killer Croc ate my homework" Yeah and I'm Batman

Kate: Miss Kane seems to be very eager to move forward to the next stage of her life, as evidenced by her Career Day presentation. While I believe young people should be free to explore their passions, I also think that Kate would benefit from some workshops outlining more feasible options.

Translation – "Get bitches" isn't a career goal

Alfred: Mr. Pennyworth is easily one of the best students this institution has seen, both in his academic record and extracurricular activities. He recently expressed interest in the sharpshooting team, which I will not discourage him from, seeing how highly accurate he is. As of this year, I will be retiring as the coach for the team, but I wish him all the best.

Translation – I'm not about to get on his bad side

Selina: Miss Kyle's resourcefulness continues to astound me. Earlier in the semester, she forgot her locker combination and quickly improvised a mechanism to safely unlock it using only the materials around her. The speed and accuracy with which she did that will surely benefit her in the future.

Translation – Did... did she just pick a lock with another lock?

Bruce: No further comments.

Translation – whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

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mysterycitrus · 2 months

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could we please hear some more about french dick grayson? I'm very invested now! <3

yes the graysons are my favourite topic so!!!! i personally enjoy the idea that dick isn’t american and had very little exposure to american culture before his parents death. imagine ur first encounter with americanisms being gotham city. no wonder he’s like that.

when i was writing persephone i did a lot of reading about different rromani groups in europe to try and map out where his parents might’ve come from, and eventually landed on southern france for his mother (specifically from the sinti-manouche romani) and dobruja, romania for his father (with a turkish father and romanian mother). we see that reflected in how dick refers to them in his head — always by maman and tati, and never by their names. were they actually ever the flying graysons, or was the name grayson itself anglicised? we just don’t know.

i didn’t want it to be lip service, and i didn’t want it to be something casual tossed in the bg like we see in taylors run (what the hell does romani smile mean, tom??) because that’s how we see flattened, stereotypical storytelling. i can’t decide whether i was successful or not, but it would be nice to see any professional dc writer out in some effort to dicks backstory that isn’t court of owls or [x character] was at the circus when the graysons fell. at this point it’s more of a red flag that random goon no.4 wasn’t there.

with that in mind, dicks relative isolation in gotham being not only from his own grief but also because he’s literally on another continent, speaking a language that isn’t his, and totally away from everything he’d known, makes such an interesting counter to bruce’s own journey with loss. dick is transient, while bruce is (literally and metaphorically) rooted in the house his parents lived in.

however the primary reason i enjoy him being french is because i believe damian would make fun of him for it (lovingly)

#dick grayson #nightwing #dc comics #robin #bruce Wayne #the ask and the answer #persephone tag

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flowerandblood · 6 months

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Laughter from the depths (Oneshot)

[ nobility! • Aemond x rusalka demon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, angst, smut, violence, descriptions of injuries, mention of murder ]

[ description: Aemond and his family are deprived of their main estate in the capital in favour of his half-sister and have to move to a rural mansion that has long been neglected. There is a superstition among the village people that the nearby lake is home to Rusalki, beautiful female demons who tickle boys who peep at them to death. Angst, slavic demonology. ]

This oneshot is something special for me because it focuses on the lives of the people in the Slavic villages from which all my ancestors came. I am Polish, so what I am writing about has references to Polish beliefs and Polish traditions, but I suspect it was the same for all our Slavic neighbours.

In order to convey the realism of the era and the atmosphere that prevailed there, the nobility talk among themselves in French, and Polish, which I have also used here, replaces the language of Old Valyria, as some kind of relic of the past, something unworldly in the eyes of the aristocracy. Of course, all the dialogues are translated into English in brackets, but I wanted to show what my national Slavic language looks like.

I would like to point out that until the 1970s, superstitions about rusalki and other demons were very, very strong in the villages. The large percentage of people who could not write or read, the fear-mongering by local priests and organists who made money from exorcisms and banishing demons did not help at all in rationalising the events of their lives.

Slavic demonology is incredibly rich and elaborate, and often the same demons are named differently in different countries. The name Rusalka came to Poland from the territory of present-day Belarus; the same water demons were previously called topielice, panny wodne or boginki. However, the name Rusalka was adopted by Romantic writers such as Adam Mickiewicz and is therefore used most frequently today.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

They were finished. The moment his father died, he, his mother, sister and brothers lost their main residence in the capital, which from now on belonged to his half-sister, his father's daughter from his first marriage. His last will came as an unpleasant surprise to them all.

He had bequeathed them his country estate where no one had lived for years, filled with dampness and mustiness. For weeks their mother tried to get the manor house in order, pretending that their father's decision did not hurt her at all, that they would at least get a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Although he loved her he laughed cruelly at her words, shaking his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. Their servants and farmhands were simple villagers who could not even sign their names.

The only ones who knew the magical skill of writing and reading were the local priest and the Jews. The Jews were the ones Aegon was most friendly with, spending whole nights in their inns.

He and his family were decent Catholics attending church every Sunday.

They attracted great interest when they arrived in their carriage. The simple-minded people often came to church from distant villages barefoot and washed their feet in a nearby lake, only then putting on their shoes, usually having only one pair that they could not destroy.

Although he and his family knew the language of his ancestors, they preferred to talk to each other in French so that no one would understand them. However, he listened one day to a loud conversation between two boys, the sons of the village miller, who lived by the lake with other children.

"Tutaj mieszkają prawdzie rusałki! Wodne panny! Boginki! Nocą tańczą i śmieją się głośno, jak gdyby miały biesiadę, demony szatana. (This is where the true Rusalki lives! Water maidens! Goddesses! At night they dance and laugh loudly, as if they were having a feast, demons of Satan.)" Described one of them excitedly, swallowing his saliva quickly seeing that everyone was listening to him.

"Nie zwracają uwagi na dzieci, ale nasz kuzyn, Janek, raz próbował złapać jedną z nich, został wciągnięty i załaskotały go na śmierć! A miał się chłopak żenić na wiosnę! I na co mu to było? (They don't pay any attention to the children, but our older cousin, Janek, once tried to catch one of them, got pulled in and they tickled him to death! The boy was supposed to get married in the spring! And what good was that to him?)"

Shaking his head as he listened to this nonsense, his younger brother approached him, looking at them curiously.

"As-tu entendu, frère? J'ai lu que les Rusalki sont comme des nymphes grecques, belles, vêtues de robes blanches translucides avec des fleurs dans les cheveux, qu'elles dansent pendant la pleine lune et jouent toute la nuit. (Have you heard, brother? I've read that Rusalki are like Greek nymphs, beautiful, dressed in translucent white robes with flowers in their hair, that they dance during the full moon and play all night.)" He whispered, and he snorted, adjusting the material of his black cuff.

"Je t'en prie. C'est une absurdité. Les superstitions des villageois ordinaires. (Please. This is some nonsense. The superstitions of ordinary villagers)." He said lowly, Daeron fell silent and lowered his head, ashamed, never bringing up this subject again.

During the sermon, the priest made it clear that he was worried that the local people still used witches and quacks, believing in all sorts of demonic activities that were obviously the result of infernal forces.

"Za stosowaną opłatą ja bądź organista zajdziemy do Waszych domów by wypędzić te bestie. (For an applicable fee, I or the organist will visit your homes to exorcise these beasts)." Said the priest, and he pressed his lips together and chuckled under his breath, arousing the interest of his mother, unable to believe that someone even so well-read was preying on the naivety of these poor people.

They didn't understand what real medicine or science was, they didn't understand that when a disabled child was born to them it wasn't the fault of a charm or that a goddess had stolen their infant, but a congenital disease.

That when gales and hailstorms came it was not the Hanged Man, the demons that suicides who died by hanging themselves became walking through the fields, but it was ordinary weather, no demonic activity.

He was appalled at how much separated him from these people, dirty, simple, living in their own dark and cruel world, housing whole families in single rooms, sleeping sometimes even with their own cattle.

Although his attitude towards the people who, after all, worked on his manor, handled his crops and harvested for a pittance was harsh, he was not a man without compassion or heart.

When it was reported in the evening that the miller's son had fallen from a height into the water and almost drowned, that he had broken his leg and needed a doctor he rushed there on horseback together with his sister.

When they arrived people were standing with candles, crying and wailing all around him, begging him to call a doctor, that they could not afford it.

He and Helaena approached the boy, he couldn't have been more than twelve years old, he had an open break in his leg, his bone sticking out of the wound, he was pale and unconscious, shaking from the cold.

"Mówię Wam, ludzie, przysięgam, to Rusałki go z wody wyciągały, uciekły z piskiem gdy wybiegłem! To pewnie one swym śpiewem go przyciągnęły! (I'm telling you, people, I swear, it was the Rusalki that pulled him out of the water, they ran away with a squeal when I rushed out! It must have been them with their singing that attracted him!)" His father mumbled beside him, but he didn't listen to them recognising that he was talking such nonsense because he was in shock.

"Retournez au manoir et ordonnez à notre mère d'appeler un médecin. Sans médicaments, il aura de la fièvre et ne passera pas la nuit. (Ride back to the manor and order our mother to call a doctor. Without medicine he will get a fever and won't survive the night)." He said to her coolly, Helaena nodded.

He looked around, feeling his heart pounding hard and then he spotted her. He saw her face between the reeds, her big, curious, bright eyes clad in long lashes, when she noticed that he had caught sight of her she furrowed her black eyebrows and sank back into the water.

He looked there thinking that she was just a girl who had decided to swim, that it was impossible for what they were saying to be true, but no one surfaced there again.

He shuddered when a villager said to him that he had brought his cart and horse, that he would follow him to the manor, and he agreed.

The boy was laid in one of the rooms meant for servants, when the doctor arrived from a nearby village after a few hours the boy already had a fever and convulsions. The doctor said he was in an agonal state and there was no point in treating him anymore.

His mother decided to give him medication anyway.

Helaena and her maid kept vigil with him all night. He went back to his room and locked himself in it, trying to sleep, but all he could think about were these bright eyes shining between the lake reeds in the moonlight.

Despite the doctor's assurances that the boy would not survive, he lasted the night, but with such a monstrous break he had to be taken to the hospital in town, where he was transported by cart along with his family at his mother's expense.

The next day, the people of the village gathered outside their manor house to give them gifts, homemade cakes and breads, eggs, vegetables, milk and cheese. Everything they had, everything of value in gratitude for their act of grace.

He thought with pain as he watched his mother and sister's conversation with these people through the window, that he had judged them as clueless and simple-minded, seeing them as a mere grey mass, when they were simply people like him, for some reason condemned by God to such a harsh, ungrateful fate.

These thoughts kept him awake, and even though he knew it was madness, he thought about going to the lake in the evening to see for himself if what he had seen was true or just a mere prediction.

He had to prove to the rational side of his mind that it was just a figment of his imagination that had occurred under the influence of extreme emotion.

Therefore, he left the manor during the warm summer night, dressed in just a white chemise, tucked into his breeches with braces. He walked through the fields, hearing the loud pounding of his heart, having the feeling that the space around him at night was incredibly unsettled and dangerous, that something was lurking and watching him in the shadows.

He had the feeling that he was losing his sanity.

And then he heard it - loud splashes and laughter.

He stopped between the trees, breathing nervously, and that's when he spotted them, the star-shining figures of young girls, water flowers woven into their loose hair, dressed in beautiful white, embroidered, translucent robes from under which one could clearly see their bodies, some of them completely naked, standing in water up to their waist, apparently just taking a bath.

They were talking animatedly to each other, comfortably spread out on the grass or dancing, eating fruits, some of them swimming or splashing the others with water, taking it as a form of teasing and fun.

He had the impression that he was looking at some mythological scene, that he was just watching nymphs in the bath, beautiful, wild and unpredictable.

His heart was pounding like mad, he could not take his eyes off them.

However, one of them spotted him in the distance and squealed loudly, the others immediately rose up, frightening him, reminding him of the boy's words about killing men who peeped at them.

But they fled instead, one by one sinking into the depths of the water, disappearing beneath its mirror, leaving him with only the restless sound of the water and the silence around him.

He walked on trembling legs closer to the shore on the rustling grass, breathing unevenly, feeling as if his heart would leap out of his chest.

He sat down on the sand, looking at the depths in front of him and the great reflection of the moon that was painted on it, thinking only that this was true, that all around him lived beings that could not be comprehended by the human mind.

He shuddered and jumped up in place, moving away, hearing rustling among the reeds, noticing the same pale face as before, her eyes shining with concern and curiosity, her hair wet, some of its strands stuck to her face, on her head a wreath of tiny fresh flowers she must have woven for herself that night.

"Chłopiec. (The little boy)." He heard her voice, trembling, uncertain, determined, frightened. "Przeżył? (Did he survive?)"

He thanked God that as a child he had applied himself to learning the language of his ancestors, that he had even felt proud to speak it until he discovered that everyone in the salons of the capital spoke only French.

"Tak. (Yes)." He heard his own low voice, and felt a shudder at the thought that he had forgotten how melodious and pleasant the language was, at once hard and soft, rustling like the leaves of the trees, reeds and grasses around them.

They looked at each other for a long moment in silence, her gaze softening slightly.

"Uratowałeś go. (You saved him)." She said after a moment, her voice tender and warm, incredibly pleasant to his ear. "Ty i dziewczyna z włosami jasnymi jak księżyc. Czy to Twoja żona? (You and the girl with hair as light as the moon. Is that your wife?)"

He licked his lower lip, looking at her with wide-open eyes, feeling his heart pounding like mad, his body all tensed up.

"Nie. To moja siostra. (No. She's my sister)." He replied in a trembling voice and she blinked, cocking her head as if she didn't understand the meaning of the word.

He drew in the air loudly when he heard the loud splash of water as she rose from her knees, walking slowly towards him among the tall grasses and lily pads, the level of the lake now only reaching her thighs.

He could see her robe, all soaked through, clinging to her beautiful naked body, her skin the colour of pearls, her nipples were darker, like gemstones placed on her soft, firm chest.

He had never seen a naked woman before in his life.

She emerged from the grasses onto the shore, standing before him without a shadow of shame or fear, as if she understood perfectly how beautiful her body was and that he could admire her was merely an act of her grace.

"Ktoś odebrał Ci coś, co do niego nie należało. (Someone took from you something that didn't belong to them)." She said quietly, as if in surprise, and he realised, horrified and embarrassed, that she was talking about his eye patch, his scar on his cheek and in the presence of her beauty he was overwhelmed by the magnitude of his ugliness.

He swallowed with difficulty, terrified and shocked as she moved slowly, lightly towards him, afraid to make any move, not knowing if she would then suddenly transform into an aggressive, terrifying beast.

He felt both discomfort and excitement at the same time when she sat down next to him and he could look at her shamelessly naked body from so close, her robe all wet, covering absolutely nothing. He shuddered and drew in the air loudly as she reached up with a slight movement to his eye patch and grabbed her aggressively by the wrist.

Her pupils narrowed dangerously in rage, her expression changed, she pulled away from him and took a few steps back as if she was about to scream and call out to her friends, but she hesitated, looking at him with wide eyes.

He raised his trembling hand to his eyepatch, breathing loudly, he could see that she was watching his every move alertly, that what he did now weighed on whether he would live or die.

He slid the material off his face, for the first time in front of a stranger, for the first time in front of a woman, feeling oddly exposed and weak even though she was the one who was naked.

He was afraid that he would see disgust, that she would run away screaming, but he saw that her gaze slowly became gentle and curious again, her expression calm once more, her forehead straight and clear.

It seemed to him that she was reactive and curious about everything like a small child.

He swallowed loudly as she moved across the sand on her knees towards him, not a trace of her earlier aggression and rage. She sat even closer to him than before, leaning over the scarred part of his face, over his artificial white eye.

She looked at him with some kind of disbelief and shock, her lips slightly parted, as if he were some kind of magical being, not her. To his surprise, however, the expression on her face did not show any terror, he could feel the drops of water from her hair and her robe dripping onto his trousers, his hands clenched into fists on the grass.

He had no idea what he was feeling, many emotions running through him at once.

Fear, anxiety, excitement, curiosity, delight.

He gasped, pale, as she raised her hand, this time glancing at his face, as if to see if he would once again try to touch her. He didn't move, though; he didn't want to make the same mistake.

He felt a shudder when her moist, warm, soft, delicate fingers touched his scar and ran over it in a gentle motion that seemed to him like the ruffling of a feather.

"Czy sprawiam Ci ból? (Am I causing you pain?)" She asked quietly, glancing at his healthy eye, and he only shook his head, enchanted, his throat compressed, unable to get the words out, his heart pounding like mad.

He fascinated her.

She didn't run away from him.

He wondered if he could ask her a question.

Would he enrage her again if he tried?

He feared she was about to leave once and for all and he would never see her again, regretting for the rest of his life that he had remained silent when she sat being so close.

"Uratowałaś go? Tego chłopca. (You saved him? That young boy.)" He muttered lowly, looking at her with wide eyes. She took her hand away immediately, frightened, looking at him anxiously, her lips tightening as if she wondered if she should speak to him.

She looked down at her thighs, running her fingers over the sand, all around them was the pleasant, quiet sound of water, the rustling of grass and the singing of crickets.

"Tak. Topił się. Taki młody. (Yes. He was drowning. So young)." She whispered, and he licked his lips dried with stress, feeling that this was his chance, that he had won her trust.

"Nie zabijacie dzieci ani kobiet. (You don't kill children or women)." He murmured, and she looked at him alertly, measuring him with a gaze so impenetrable that a shudder went through him.

"Nie. Tylko mężczyzni próbują wziąć to co nie ich. Jak gdyby byli naszymi mężami. (No. Only men try to take what is not theirs. As if they were our husbands)." She said coldly. He pressed his lips together and swallowed loudly, subconsciously understanding what she was talking about.

They were killing men who tried to take them by force.

"Ale Ty nie próbowałeś mnie dotknąć. I uratowałeś tego chłopca, mężczyzno z białym okiem. (But you don't try to touch me. And you saved that boy, man with the white eye)." She said softly, looking at him curiously, leaning on one hand, her body curving like a spiral, slender and beautiful, shining in the moonlight.

He tried to look at her face but did so with difficulty, feeling a strong throbbing in his breeches. He was afraid she would see it, so he lifted his knees higher to shield himself.

She shuddered when he made the move, alert, but when she saw that he had merely changed position she relaxed again, settling down next to him in a half-lying position.

"Dlaczego mężczyźni to robią? Co takiego robią swoim żonom, że aż tak bardzo tego pragną? (Why do men do this? What do they do to their wives that makes them want it so much?)" She asked curiously, looking at him with a lightness that surprised him; he had the impression that her mood was as changeable as the weather.

He swallowed loudly, wondering how he should explain it to her, what to say to her to please her.

"Gdy mężczyzna bierze kobietę za żonę, stają się jednym w obliczu Boga i całego świata. Łączą się podczas nocy poślubnej swoimi ciałami. (When a man takes a woman as his wife, they become one in the face of God and the whole world. They unite during their wedding night with their bodies)." He said in a trembling voice, and she blinked, turning her head, her gaze bright and intrigued, listening to him intently.

"Ciałami? Dlatego próbują nas dotknąć? (With their bodies? Is that why they try to touch us?)" She asked as if she had just solved a riddle, and he nodded, not knowing what more he could say, embarrassed.

"Dlaczego są tak agresywni? Czy to bolesne? Krzywdzicie swoje żony? (Why are they so aggressive? Is it painful? Are you hurting your wives?)" She asked, wrinkling her eyebrows, clearly trying to compare the behaviour of the men she'd experienced with what he'd said and form a meaningful picture in her head.

He swallowed loudly, feeling his heart pounding hard as he played with the fingers of his hands.

"Nie. Dobry mąż nie krzywdzi swojej żony, tylko daje jej przyjemność. (No. A good husband doesn't hurt his wife, he just gives her pleasure)." He said uncertainly, her eyes shining, she moved closer to him, so close that he could smell her skin, the scent of water and flowers, her face flushed and soft, on her eyelashes the drops sparkled like small diamonds.

"A Ty? Jesteś dobrym mężem? (And you? Are you a good husband?)" She asked warmly, as if she recognised that she liked him, that she would not hurt him. He looked at her with slightly parted lips.

"Ja...ja nie mam jeszcze żony. (I…I don't have a wife yet)." He mumbled, breathing unevenly, feeling that he was already completely hard, she was so incredibly beautiful that he couldn't believe she was actually sitting in front of him.

He thought despairingly, although he had always laughed at men who ran after women, that he must have just fallen in love.

She blinked at his words, looking intently at his face, her gaze roaming over his nose, his lips, his cheeks, feeling that he was hot even though the night was pleasantly cool.

"Dlaczego? (Why?)" She asked and smiled. He felt a tightness in his throat, he was having increasing trouble putting his thoughts together into meaningful sentences.

"Nie wiem. (I don't know.)" He muttered, himself having no idea why, at the age he was, he still refused his mother when she said he had found a suitable candidate.

He didn't want to take as his wife a girl who would only be with him out of an unpleasant obligation, unable to look at his face every day.

"Skąd mężczyzna i kobieta wiedzą, że chcą zostać jednym? (How do a man and a woman know that they want to become one?)" She asked curiously, and he gave her a quick, embarrassed look.

He was silent for a long moment, unable to say anything.

"Gdy kobieta pragnie mężczyzny, staje się mokra między udami. Gdy mężczyzna pragnie kobiety, staje się tam twardy. (When a woman desires a man, she becomes wet between her thighs. When a man desires a woman, he becomes hard there)." He said in a trembling voice, watching her reactions, but she seemed even more intrigued by his words and drew in air loudly, her cheeks blushing a little more.

"Kiedy jest tak mokra jak ja? (When she's as wet as I am?)" She asked innocently surprising him completely, taking his hand in hers and slipping it between her warm thighs, pressing it against her womanhood, sticky and moist with her juices.

He looked up at her in disbelief, breathing rapidly, terrified and aroused, he felt like his length was about to explode with desire.

"Tak. (Yes)." He whispered, she parted her lips slightly as he ran his fingers over her soft folds, he felt a point under her skin from which her whole body shuddered, looking at him with fear and warmth at the same time.

She began to breathe faster and relaxed her grip on his wrist as he began to massage her in slow, circular motions, just as he had read in books in which he had discovered with embarrassment how men satisfy women.

He felt her involuntarily spread her thighs in front of him, allowing him to sink his fingers into her hot flesh, her almost naked breasts rising and falling in quickened, rippling breaths, her beautiful face all red, her lips puffy and glistening.

"− oh −" She mumbled simultaneously pulling away and pressing herself against his hand, herself unsure of what she felt, his fingers growing stickier and stickier with her moisture, his movements accompanied by a loud, wet click.

He saw her hand rise uncertainly to his knee and slide down his thigh, making a powerful shudder run through him. Her fingers ran over the bulge beneath his breeches, and he groaned low, surprised.

"Jesteś twardy. (You're hard)." She hummed with some kind of warmth, and he nodded, licking his lips, unable to focus on anything other than the touch of her soft hands between his thighs.

"Mocniej. (Harder)." He gasped, and she obeyed him, pressing her fingers against his manhood and hiding under the material of his trousers, trailing them up and down in a slow motion.

"Cały pulsujesz. (It's throbbing all over)." She whispered, and he closed his eyes, unsure if he had ever been so aroused before in his life, so thirsty for anyone's touch, breathing loudly along with her, their hips moving against each other in the direction of the movements of their hands.

"Czy to oznacza, że powinieneś wziąć mnie za swoją żonę? (Does this mean you should take me as your wife?)" She asked quietly, and he simply nodded.

"Tak. (Yes)."

She moaned sweetly, innocently, surprised, as his finger made its way inside her, teasing her, her body began to push against him, wanting to feel him deeper, her nipples all hard and stiff seeping through the transparent material of her robe.

"Weź mnie. (Take me)." She whispered and he thrust against her, drinking himself into her sweet, wet lips, she moaned loudly into his mouth, clamping her hands in his hair, spreading her thighs in front of him, watching carefully as he pulled his braces off his shoulders and quickly unbuttoned his breeches.

"To może odrobinę zaboleć. Nie obawiaj się, jeśli zechcesz, przestanę. Nie skrzywdzę Cię. (This might hurt a bit. Don't be frightened, if you want me to, I'll stop. I won't hurt you)." He mumbled out, breathing loudly, feeling how much they were both trembling, and she nodded, looking at him with a trusting expression that took him completely by surprise.

He slid into her with difficulty, her insides clenching against him, trying to resist him, however to no avail, the desperate thrusts of his hips and her slippery wetness allowed him to slip all the way into her.

She parted her lips wide and sighed helplessly, wrinkling her eyebrows as if in worry, certain she had never felt anything like this before in her life, this kind of fullness.

With an involuntary, subconscious movements, he began to move inside her, with sure thrusts of his hips filling her, each time he rubbed her right at her entrance a loud, surprised cry came from her lips.

"− czy będę teraz twoją żoną? (will I be your wife now?) −" She exhaled, stroking his scarred cheek with her soft fingers, her breasts bouncing slightly at each of his thrusts, his length pulsed hard inside her at her question.

"− tak (yes) − od teraz będziesz tylko moja (you'll only be mine from now on) −" He muttered and she blushed, looking up at him with a warmth from which he sped up, her insides so wonderfully tight and hot that he lost control completely, their bodies bumping against each other with a loud splat.

"− a ty? (and you?) − będziesz tylko mój? (will you be only mine?) −" She asked softly and he whispered that he will, before he pressed himself into her lips, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat, muffling her moans as his fingers tightened on her thighs, his length piercing her with all the strength he had in his hips.

"− o kurwa (oh fuck) −" He panted into her mouth, knowing, after all, that he was a devoted believer and servant of the church, that he prayed every Sunday, however, no prayer now seemed as salutary to him as the thought that he was about to come deep inside her, that he was about to cum in that tight, wet cunt.

They fucked like a couple in a brothel, like villagers on straw in a barn, wild and hot, their hands clenched on each other's bodies in a final decision that they would not let go until they had experienced fulfilment.

He saw her eyes close as she threw her head back with her mouth wide open and moaned helplessly, almost crying as waves of hot pleasure shook her body, her walls began to clench against him, making him start to moan low, giving in completely, letting his hot seed fill her.

He collapsed on top of her, crushing her with the weight of his body, trembling all over, her small hands embracing his waist, both of them unable to calm down, breathing loudly, writhing beneath each other, his hips moving inside her for a moment longer.

"− zapomnisz o mnie (you'll forget me) − już nigdy nie wrócisz (you'll never come back) −" She whispered in a quivering voice, and he pressed his face against her wet cheek, running the tip of his nose over her skin hot with exertion.

"− mylisz się (you're wrong) − zabiorę Cię z sobą (I'll take you with me) − miejsce żony jest z jej mężem (a wife's place is with her husband) −"

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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agendabymooner · 9 months

Text

the royal resemblance ! esteban o. x ofc (british princess!ofc)

summary: albertine (spencer) ocon lived to give her estranged family a heart attack by simply existing and giving birth to a daughter who looked so much like her... and her mother.

OR the youngest royal and the alpine driver had finally set their boundaries when it came to the british royal press as a way to maintain the privacy that they had managed to preserve throughout their years of relationship and marriage.

content warning: use of explicit language, princess ofc with a lack of princess manner (aka being more upfront), dad!estie x mom!ofc, fluff?? fictional news articles + posts

note: i need to post this otherwise my storage will continue to be full as hell 🤡

masterlist

THE FAST LANE DAILY

PRINCESS ALBERTINE MAKES GRAND ENTRANCE AT STATE BANQUET, WEARING DIANA-INSPIRED ATTIRE

london, uk - in a stunning display of elegance and style, princess albertine, the youngest daughter of king charles iii, attended the highly anticipated state banquet alongside her husband, french formula one alpine driver esteban ocon. the event marked the first time the couple appeared together as a married couple, capturing the attention of the media and royal enthusiasts alike.

princess albertine, born in 1996, has had a unique journey within the royal family. her custody was passed to her maternal grandmother and eventually to her uncle, leading her to distance herself from her royal title. instead, she chose to use the surname spencer, a nod to her mother's family. however, after tying the knot with ocon, she decided to adopt his surname, solidifying their union.

the british media had been eagerly awaiting a glimpse into the couple's private life, but it was not until three months after their wedding that princess albertine and ocon officially announced their marriage. this secrecy only added to the intrigue surrounding their relationship.

princess albertine had previously declined offers to attend the state banquet on two occasions. however, with the assurance that her brother, prince harry, would also be in attendance, she finally accepted the invitation, making her presence known in a truly unforgettable manner.

stepping into the grand hall, princess albertine made a striking entrance, wearing a dress reminiscent of her late mother, princess diana's iconic style. her haircut, bearing a striking resemblance to diana's, caused a stir among attendees, including her father, king charles iii, and her brother, prince william, the prince of wales.

to complete her regal ensemble, princess albertine donned a breathtaking aquamarine tiara, drawing attention away from the working royals, including queen camilla. the tiara, a personal collection piece, was a gift from dodi fayed's father, who maintained a connection with albertine despite the tragic loss of both her mother and his son. complementing the tiara, she wore a set of aquamarine jewelry, including a wedding band that matched ocon's, which held sentimental value as an heirloom from diana.

the couple's appearance at the state banquet as a married couple was met with great excitement and speculation. many believe that such a rare occurrence would not have taken place had prince harry not been in attendance as well. the presence of both siblings added an air of unity and significance to the event, captivating the attention of all those present.

as princess albertine and ocon gracefully mingled with dignitaries and fellow guests, their radiant presence and homage to princess diana's legacy left a lasting impression. their appearance at the state banquet not only showcased their love and commitment but also hinted at a new chapter in the royal family's history, one that embraces change and celebrates individuality.

with their enchanting presence, princess albertine and ocon have undoubtedly left an indelible mark on the hearts of the british public, reigniting the fascination and admiration for the royal family.

THE FAST LANE DAILY

PRINCESS ALBERTINE AND ROYAL FAMILY'S PLAN FOR LIMITED NEWS COVERAGE

in a surprising turn of events, princess albertine, a member of the british royal family has expressed her lack of connection to her father, king charles iii, and her desire to lead a normal life away from the public eye. despite her lack of close relationships within the royal family, the palace has announced plans to provide limited news coverage about her and her family.

princess albertine's custody was passed to her maternal grandmother following the tragic death of her mother, diana spencer, in paris in 1997. at just one year old, she was separated from her father, resulting in a distant relationship with the royal family. her only remaining connection, prince harry, has also distanced himself from the family.

recently, princess albertine made headlines for her portrayal of her late mother, princess diana, in the popular television series, the crown. the palace remained tight-lipped about the news, while insiders expressed disappointment over the portrayal, hinting at the royal family's disapproval.

despite her strained relationship with her father, princess albertine has managed to retain her royal title, thanks to a strategic divorce between her parents shortly after her birth. this decision ensured the preservation of her legitimacy and her connection to charles' bloodline.

in a surprising twist, princess albertine secretly tied the knot with esteban ocon, a formula one driver. the couple managed to keep their marriage under wraps for three months, evading the prying eyes of the british media. this unexpected union further solidified princess albertine's desire for privacy and independence.

expressing her desire to distance herself from her family's public relations agenda, princess albertine has made it clear that she wants no involvement with the royal family. while the palace has agreed to respect her wishes, they have also stated that certain announcements will be made on her behalf. however, they have emphasized that no further details will be provided, allowing princess albertine the opportunity to discuss these matters herself.

princess albertine and her husband, esteban ocon, are not pleased with this arrangement but reluctantly agreed to the clause in order to appease the royal family. it is evident that they wish to maintain control over their own lives and decisions, free from the constraints of the palace's public relations machinery.

as princess albertine and esteban ocon navigate their newfound marriage and life together, it remains to be seen how they will handle the delicate balance between their desire for privacy and the royal family's need for limited news coverage. the world eagerly awaits any further developments from this intriguing royal couple.

THE BUCKINGHAM PALACE'S ISSUED STATEMENT - MAY 2026

THE BUCKINGHAM PALACE'S ISSUED STATEMENT - JANUARY 2027

MAY 2027

tagged albertinespencer

liked by mickschumacher, lance_stroll, pierregasly

user1 HER NAME IS DITTY I LOVE THAT SO MUCH 😭

user2 ok but who'd name their baby ditty? bffr

user3 gurl albie's cousin is literally named kitty fuck outta here 😩

user4 little albie 🤩

mickschumacher itty bitty ditty 😍 liked by estebanocon

user5 itty bitty ditty???

lance_stroll i cannot believe she had grown sooo much ugh 🥲 are you sure she's still not allowed to the paddock? liked by estebanocon

albertinespencer what's in it for the tired parents?

lance_stroll uncle lance as a date night babysitter?

albertinespencer i can take that

pierregasly i'm so excited to take her on a bicycle ride around the track liked by estebanocon

lance_stroll cool story pierre but i have a basket to put her in on our bicycle ride, what do you have? liked by estebanocon

mickschumacher that's cool but uncle mick already got a wagon in the merc garage to put her in for a ride 😎 liked by estebanocon

mercedesamgf1 mick if there's a report of a break-in in our garage we are blaming this on you- we've told you about the wagon in secret

user6 i live for the grid uncles comments

user7 she is princess d coded 👑

albertinespencer she's just cheering for her papa in here, don't mind her 🤔😍 liked by estebanocon

estebanocon my number one fans ❤️

albertinespencer once an ocon fan, always an ocon fan 💖 liked and pinned by estebanocon

charles_leclerc so glad to be there for her christening, lad! liked by estebanocon

landonorris the all-white party- so iconic liked by estebanocon

estebanocon glad you guys could make it before the pre-testing!

albertinespencer she def loves all of you!

landonorris she better- otherwise idk why i had a little mclaren car made for her

tagged estebanocon

liked by charles_leclerc, kitty.spencer, maxverstappen1

comments have been limited

maxverstappen1 she's the sweetest girl ever 😍 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer just say that you're glad she hasn't thrown up on you 🤣

maxverstappen1 no i'm relieved though 😅

kitty.spencer i should fly to switzerland just to spend more time with ditty 😊 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer please!!! it's becoming more boring without estie here 😄

kitty.spencer omw my love!!! 💖

oscarpiastri born in 31st? esteban's driver number? sheesh, a dedicated fan you've got there albie liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer she's an absolute devotee 🤪

landonorris she's the frenchest british princess ever tbh 😕🤭 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer she's born in switzerland but word ig 🤠

lewishamilton sending my love in her way!!! ❤️ liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer thank you lewis! though, you meant it in a metaphorical sense right because i just received a package of baby mercedes things in here with your name on it 🤔

lewishamilton busted 😅

alpineracingf1 lewis please ditty's dad drives for us

estebanocon i love her so much i wish i can come home and ditch the triple header 😕😭 liked by albertinespencer

albertinespencer it's not encouraged but it is an option...?

alpineracingf1 albie we still need to make you and ditty proud please don't encourage him

PS albie and estie's baby

diana marie-françois elisabeth 'ditty' ocon

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gartenofbanny · 6 months

Text

I believe Mammon is basic and boring as a Sin and Antagonist in Helluva Boss. But in a series where a portion of the villains are just one-note, Mammon is a really really special case to me.

Mammon is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and Helluva Boss tends to put their own unique twist regarding them for better or for worse. It really just depends on your preference.

Lucifer, despite being the Prince of Pride, loves his daughter Charlie and his wife, Lilith, presumably putting his family first before himself. Asmodeus, despite being the Sin of Lust, is in a healthy relationship with a Demon that isn't a succubus. Lastly, Beelzebub who, despite being the Sin of Gluttony, was worried about Blitzo's emotional state after he downed an entire gallon of the alcoholic beverage she likely made. Despite embodying sins, these characters moreso embody the more positive aspect of them, which again is for better or worse depending on your preference.

And then there's Mammon. He's the Sin of Greed, and for some reason, he's the only Sin who embodies the Sinful aspect of greediness. Asmodeus proclaims that Mammon has always been like this since the "start of Hell" meaning he has always been a greedy asshole and will always be a greedy asshole because that's what he is.

Excuse my french, but what a lazy ass character Mammon is.

The reason I've really decided to make this post is because a friend sent me a scene from Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood. I haven't watched the anime, but this scene, in particular, really opened my eyes to how the Greediness isn't just about money. How Greed like the other sins have Virtues to them.

youtube

Now I'm not expecting Helluva Boss to have FMA: Brotherhood level of writing, but I will ask this. If Vivziepop is able to portray the sin of Lust and Gluttony in complex or somewhat redeemable lights, then why not do so for the Sin of Greed?

This series took the most basic understanding of Greed and just made an antagonist out of it, and that's really why Mammon feels very basic to me. It doesn't feel as if much thought was put into him compared to Asmodeus and Beelzebub.

Mammon is evil because he's greedy and he wants money, so he exploits his cash clown for cash. Now, if he was the only antagonist like that, I wouldn't care, but Stella and Crimson are two villains in Helluva Boss who have basic ass motives with no cause behind them. Stella is a dick to Stolas and wants to abuse him just because. Crimson is a bad father towards Moxxie and treats him like shit..just because (I thought mafias were all about family)

How can I take Mammon as a serious villain when he's just like Crimson and Stella? Well, at least in terms of voice acting and design, he's unique, but in terms of character motivation and writing. Mammon isn't it.

However, critics and fans alike, if you think otherwise, I'd love to read them.

Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I hope you all have a nice day! ❤️

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss #vivziepop #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss critique #vivienne medrano #helluva critical #Youtube

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

Text

Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn’t real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn’t long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can’t even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he’s so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he’s bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it’s important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

#cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #kurt wagner #x men #nightcrawler #marvel #xmen #x men comics #marvel x men #r5 #the derry girls #derry girls #sister michael

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sgiandubh · 3 months

Note

What about Grandma then? In recent days, that Barbour issue has been discussed in several corners of this fandon, as you said. Well, the day before yesterday Garance was posting stories showing off his Barbour coats...Obviously those two also follow the topics discussed on Tumblr. 🤷‍♀️

Dear Garance Anon,

You will have to forgive me for the very, very late answer. I wanted to give it my full, undivided attention, because I believe we never spoke seriously about Mrs. Mariline Fiori, aka Garance Doré.

The short answer to your comment is 'oh, but we know they do, as we know they are not the only ones'. Unlike S&C, though, the McGrandmas might see us as a free, useful toolbox of sorts, where readily available ideas congregate. Remember they have deliberately calibrated their public couple personas on exactly what SC are unable and/or unwilling to give/show this fandom. To some extent, it works and, as any good Frenchwoman, Garance understood she was savvy to play the atout charme joker card. Which is exactly what she does - also, being French, she knows exactly what type of European public is instantly attracted to the Barbour reference: a public whose wallets she needs.

But as I just said, your post made me think about Mrs. Doré. Who is she, really? So, sorry, Anon, if I use you as a springboard for my musings.

She was, as I said, born Mariline Fiori, on May 1st (same day as JAMMF, LOL) 1977, in Ajaccio, Corsica's main town and birthplace of Napoleon Bonaparte. Not a Corsican, though (same as Napoleon, LOL): Italian father, French/Algerian mom. People who left Algeria when it became independent, after the Evian Peace Accords, and whom the metropolitan French still call, to these day, 'pieds-noirs' (literally and quite derogatorily, 'black feet'). Her family's social status is, however, a bit unclear, as Mrs. Fiori successively played with her personal story in interviews, in what the French also sarcastically call 'des petits arrangements avec la vérité'/ a bit of tinkering with the truth.

In this 2019 interview to Elle UK, for example, her parents are described as owning a restaurant in Corsica (https://www.elle.com/uk/life-and-culture/a29758314/garance-dore-original-influencer/):

But in another 2013 interview to The Talks, her mother was a shrink (https://the-talks.com/interview/garance-dore/):

Also, for the sake of clarity:

Oh, well: different country, different crowd/market, different agenda and perhaps older and wiser when talking to Elle UK, you would think?

Not necessarily and still a divisive figure for the international press/blogosphere. People did not appreciate her frequent flying and luxury travels during COVID, for example, along with her 'white, bourgeois woman entitlement'. Both in New Zealand...

(Source: https://www.ensemblemagazine.co.nz/articles/garance-dore-new-zealand - I think you should read the entire article, as it is absolutely enlightening, also something I wouldn't go polemic about, you make up your own mind, really).

...and in France, where they apparently are not very fond of her 'cult of personality' approach to social media, to say the least:

(Source: https://www.madmoizelle.com/a-t-on-vraiment-besoin-de-preter-attention-aux-conseils-antivax-des-influenceuses-1145916 Non Francophones could use Google Translate, but considerably lose in doing so the ferocity of the writing - but then, again, the French press is particularly sarcastic & ferocious, when set against someone or something. I love them to bits.)

The translation is clear, and I deliberately did not insist on the political stance of the article, whose title gives a straightforward idea: 'Do we really have to pay attention to the influencers' antivax advice?':

'This influencer cannot singlehandedly convert a part of her fans to antivaxing, via Instagram, but this comforts those who already thought so and keeps them even more hooked. This is because Instagram is a social media whose model heavily relies on shared affinities, meaning that it congregates likeminded people and creates bubble phenomena, of which GD is a good example.

GD, who built an empire around her handle which she turned into a brand and transformed her own lifestyle into her best product might very well turn her cult of personality into an economic model. Many celebrities already do so and are perfectly entitled to. But in her case, we are not talking about sending a birthday personalized cameo, we are talking about dispensing health advice during a pandemic.'

Truly, Ha-wa-wee 2.0 sounds like kindergarten compared to the above and never made it so far and wide in the international press. But hey, don't we know, double standard is the law of this land.

But to cut the story short, because it's 5 AM in here and we'd be talking about Mrs. McGrandma until tomorrow evening, do we really imagine someone so well versed in the ways and means of social media not following Tumblr?

Yeah, thought so, too.

#anon #fandom #shitshow #BoozeWars

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aresianrepose · 1 year

Text

Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria.

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story.

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically.

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman).

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions.

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices.

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society.

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.)

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape.

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them.

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate.

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses.

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was.

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father.

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting.

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood.

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it???

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag.

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility.

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story.

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman).

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman).

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria.

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light.

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters).

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman.

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

#jason todd #bruce wayne #hysteria #dc #meta #clovis writes #listen I regularly have to write 20-30 page research papers on therapy theory and mental health #I'm so sorry this is so long but it is actually impossible to shorten it #one of my profs once said I write in a way that's academic but still readable and know the meaning of brevity #and I was like: sir I've never been accused of brevity before #this took 3 days to write and get my thoughts straight on it #remember: you asked for this lol #holy fuck the word count on this is nearly 5k I'm so sorry #I literally can't proof read this because my brain has shut off from reading this post #there's probably some stuff misspelled and also missing from this but I'm done with it lol

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estrellami-1 · 8 months

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Tagged by @apomaro-mellow @i-less-than-three-you @every-aj-needs-an-angel… hopefully I got everyone! 😅

Rules: generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! Tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge! (If you don’t like your 5 words, try again. This is supposed to be fun!)

My words: mosh, boulangerie, smuggle (technically it was ‘smuggling’ but y’know. Semantics), pearl, fawn

They met at a mosh pit in Indianapolis.

It was rather funny, the way fate works, if you ask Steve, considering he’s from France and Eddie’s from…

Well. He’s not entirely sure, to be honest. He speaks French rather well, but there’s an accent that attests to him being a transplant instead of a native.

Still, they meet and hit it off; they’re sharing the same hotel, same floor, even, so they split the cost of one room.

When in Rome—or, in this case, Indianapolis—do as the locals do.

In this case, as Eddie’d put it with a salacious grin: fuck like rabbits.

They’re on the same plane back to France too, as fate would have it. Steve to go back to his boulangerie, and Eddie to do whatever it is he does in France.

Steve privately thinks Eddie’s in France just to annoy Steve. He’s finding it increasingly hard to care.

They hook up again, more than once, more often than not in Steve’s flat.

He begins to find things missing.

There’s a pearl necklace from his mother. He’s had it ever since she passed, and it was his idea to give it to his daughter, if he should ever have one.

There’s a fawn-colored overcoat from his father. A little loose in the shoulders, but it fits Steve fairly well, and it keeps him warm in the colder months.

There’s a pie dish. Ordinarily he wouldn’t care, but this one is his favorite, for inexplicable reasons.

He asks Robin and Dustin, his friends-slash-employees. He asks his regular customers. He asks Eddie.

No one has any idea, or at least that’s what they say, but Steve’s pretty good at reading people and he feels like Eddie’s lying.

But Eddie’s hot, and a great lay, so Steve keeps his mouth shut, keeps inviting Eddie over, and does his best to keep a closer eye on him.

Things keep disappearing.

It all comes to a head when Eddie barges in one morning, wild-haired and wide-eyed, early enough that the bakery is barely open, that Steve himself is barely awake.

“Where’s the fire?” He teases, but it falls flat when Eddie smacks his hands on the counter and stares into Steve’s eyes.

“I fucked up.”

Steve blinks, thinks maybe Eddie needs a pastry or twelve, and places a gentle hand over Eddie’s, smiling at him. “It’s alright, we can fix it. What do you need?”

Eddie bites his lip, glances behind him. “To hide.”

Steve blinks. Okay, he thinks, maybe it’s more of a crazy ex situation. He nods. “Go upstairs,” he says. “My apartment. I’ll be up as soon as Robin is in. We can figure this out, okay?”

Eddie makes a sound that resembles a whine. “You’re gonna hate me.”

Steve raises a brow. “I find that hard to believe, actually, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He leans forward, presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Go upstairs. I’ll be up in an hour.”

Eddie stares for a moment, presses a bruising kiss to Steve’s lips, and jumps the counter. Steve hears him sprinting upstairs, and he smiles as he shakes his head, continuing his task of placing pastries in the glass cabinet.

An hour later, Robin gets in, and Steve lets her take over, taking off his apron as he heads upstairs.

“Eddie?” He asks, as soon as he’s up.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, standing up from the couch.

“Hey,” he smiles. He takes Eddie in, sees the way he’s holding himself, the way he’s been running his hands through his hair, and pulls him into a hug. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “C’mon, let’s sit down. Do you want a cup of tea?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I fucked up, Steve, you’re gonna hate me.”

“Like I said before, I find that hard to believe, but go ahead. Try and convince me.”

Eddie takes a breath, scoots away from Steve. Steve tries not to let any expression show. “There’s a reason I haven’t ever told you what I do,” he murmurs, not looking at Steve. Steve’s heart drops. “You mentioned the things that went missing. The truth is… I do know what happened to them.” He rubs his hands together, picks at a nail. “I’m a smuggler, a grifter, a thief… whatever pays the bills, really. Your mom’s necklace was real pearls. Your dad’s jacket wasn’t a knockoff, like you thought. It was the real deal, they both were.”

Steve sets his mouth. “And the pie tin?”

Eddie smiles in a way that makes him look like he’d rather be doing anything else. “That… was purely personal. I thought… if I couldn’t have you… something of yours would have to do.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighs. “The law’s after me. Again. I still have all of your things. I couldn’t bring myself to sell or smuggle them. If you want them… what am I saying, of course you want them. I- shit, Steve, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you in the first place… you just make it so easy.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “I make what so easy? I make an easy target? An easy mark? An easy fuck?”

“Well,” Eddie says, with the beginnings of a grin, “you kinda do make an easy fuck. But no, I meant… you make it so easy just to be. Just to be a person. Not a criminal, not someone who’s run their entire life. You make it easy to pretend that I can have everything I want. You’re… you’re the hardest target, the hardest mark, because… I care about you, Steve. I’m falling for you. And I know I ruined every chance I ever might’ve had with you, but you’re… you’re so good, and even if you never speak to me again, I thought… maybe you’d help me.”

Steve sighs. “Just answer one question for me.”

“Anything,” Eddie immediately says.

“When we’re… together. Are you putting on an act? Trying to get me to like you, to trust you, so you could steal from right under my nose?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “No,” he swears. “I mean… Maybe I didn’t show you every part of me, but that’s just because I like you, and I wanted you to like me too. I didn’t want to scare you off.” He offers Steve a crooked grin. “I’ve been told I can be a lot.”

Steve regards him, sends him a crooked almost-grin back. “I’ve been told the same.”

He stands, presses a kiss to Eddie’s lips, and steps back. “You’re good with money, which is one thing my business is sorely lacking. Bring back my things, bring whatever you want to keep for yourself. You start Monday.”

Eddie blinks. “So… I didn’t just irreparably fuck everything up.”

Steve grins. “Oh, you’ll make it up to me. Don’t worry. But for now, go get your things. I’m going to make a call. Who’s after you? What got you spooked?”

“Right now, just the police. But who knows, if they find anything…”

Steve nods. “I’ll make a call. They’ll be off your case by the end of the day, but you should lay low for a while anyways.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Is this an example of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve tuts, leans in until their lips barely brush, and Eddie’s eyes are closing. “I’m going to do things to you that I’d never dream of doing to my enemies.”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “Promise?”

Steve pulls back just as Eddie’s patience wears thin and he leans in to kiss Steve. “Go get your things,” he says, smiling when Eddie blinks confused eyes open at him again. “We’re going to have fun tonight.”

Tagging: @steddieas-shegoes @nburkhardt @thatonegreyghost @ghosttotheparty @wynnyfryd and whoever else wants to do it! Feel free to ignore if you’ve already been tagged. ❤️

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #tag game #writing #does this make complete sense? probably not #but I had FUN and that’s what matters #starambles

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