#a manual for cleaning women

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

#short story collection #short story collections #a manual for cleaning women #a manual for cleaning women: selected stories #lucia berlin #21st century literature #american literature #english language literature #have you read this short fiction? #book polls #completed polls

[joshcockroft2]

A Manual for Cleaning Women – Lucia Berlin 

7.3.2023

I would like to have read these in the slim collections they were originally published in. The stories are all wonderful, but presented all together there’s a little too much subject repetition, making you focus on the writer more than the characters, (although, as the intro highlights, you never really can pin down exactly who Berlin is, even her characters admit to bending the truth of the thing.) I’ve been reading these on and off for a few months, Bukowski too, which leads to a pretty wet bedside table – but Berlin’s melancholy is brighter, out in the world and interacting with people, rather than holed up in Bukowski’s bedroom with the curtains drawn. 

#Lucia Berlin #A Manual for Cleaning Women #book #books #short stories #fiction #booklr #bookblr #reading list #bukowski #carver #book pile #read #reading

[euno11a]

as promised, a small Drabble about Ghost liking women with hair down there

you were a bit self conscious, marks on your body, a little more hair than other people in places, etc. so when you heard some of the recruits talking about how much their hookups liked seeing and having clean shaved pussy, you felt a little self conscious. You had never fully shaved down there, occasionally doing the manual trimming to keep yourself tidy, but never a full shave.

so when you got back home that day, you decided to shave yourself completely. Looking in the mirror, you weren’t the biggest fan of it or how it looked, but it was done now. This was also supposed to be a surprise for Ghost, something that would make him extremely excited and want you even more.

laying in bed, him overtop of you making out with you and pressing kisses to your sensitive, sweet spot just under your ear felt amazing. You were excited to show him the new…cut you’d given yourself, but what you didn’t expect was him to literally pause and give you what seemed to be the most confused and slightly disgusted look. It made you feel the turtle dove in your chest come up to your throat and choke you up. The thing you hoped he’d like, repulsed him??

“You don’t like it…?” You would ask in a small voice. the voice that knocked him back to reality. But he couldn’t form any words, still just staring down at you there. Your bottom lip trembled as you closed your legs, shifting out from under him and putting on your underwear back on.

you mumbled something about not feeling in the mood anymore, seeing how he physically recoiled as he knew how he reacted was completely wrong. after that, you washed up for bed and fell asleep, his strong arms around you as you silently cried yourself to sleep.

The next few days, you had put off doing anything remotely sexual that would allow Simon to see you down there again. On day four, he broke and found you sitting in the living room on the couch. He stood there, strong and tall, pulling your book from your hands.

“You’re puttin’ shit off, love. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

you asked what he meant, not expecting him to say how he had noticed you wouldn’t shower with him anymore, let him touch you down there or even look at you. This only caused tears to well up in the corner of your eyes as you told him why.

“You looked so disgusted…I thought you’d like it b-but you just stared…and didn’t say anything…”

he knew what you were saying, mentally beating himself up for it.

“Lovie, it’s not because I didn’t like it, I was just…shocked. Never seen my pretty girl like that before, made me lose my mind.”

you wiped at your tears, but Simon wouldn’t let it slide, he pulled down your pants, pulled aside your panties and went to town. He spent a good while between your thighs, worshipping you and how pretty you looked, mumbling against your clit about how pretty you looked for him. When he was done and he cleaned you up, he held you to his chest as he played with your hair. you both got to talking and that’s when he told you why he reacted like that:

“Baby, ya always look so gorgeous t’me. I’ll always love everything bout your body. But I love when my woman has some hair because it shows me how grown you are. You’re not some little girl anymore, you’re a woman. My woman.”

it was safe to say that after that, you never fully shaved again, only trimming.

#ghost fanfiction #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #18+ content #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #smut headcanons #simon riley #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader

[roach-works]

hey roach, no answer needed, but i'd value your perspective. i was talking to a friend about gender, and we got stuck. he said that statistically men are more common in certain manual jobs due to physiological differences - differences that are important to acknowledge in the effort towards true equality. i said that men and women are more alike than not, and if we focus on the differences that's all we see. is there anything you'd add to this? i respect your opinion, is all. have a lovely day!

men are more common in certain manual jobs largely due to HISTORICAL AND PRESENT DAY DISCRIMINATION AND RAMPANT UNCHECKED SEXUAL ABUSE OF THE WOMEN THAT DO SHOW UP.

like, yes, there's certainly a lot of women's jobs that don't involve manual labor, and arguably a lot of women work jobs that don't involve manual labor. but like so do finance jobs, programming, engineering, trucking, data entry, being a fucking CEO? which are male dominated, but are mostly done sitting down.

there's a lot of jobs thought of as feminine, like nursing and waitressing, that involve hauling ass all fucking day, and this is not thought of as hard manual labor, because women do them. similarly, keeping house? cooking, cleaning, caring for children, getting groceries, running errands: these are not sedentary tasks for weak little ladies. this is exercise.

it's like the low pay. women don't take low paying jobs. women are paid less than men, regardless of the job they take. women don't take 'easy' jobs that 'aren't physical'. they're considered to have easy, non-physical jobs because they are seen as weak.

i gained a lot of weight and muscle going into welding, because HRT made it faster and easier for me to get the benefit of the strength training i was deliberately putting myself through. if i had stayed a girl, i would still have become just as strong. it would simply have taken me longer. even now, five or six years in, i don't have the skeletal build for pronounced upper body strength, but i have the ass of a dump truck, and the thighs of two more dump trucks. i can lift whatever i need as long as i can use core strength to heft it, no manly biceps necessary. there's no reason i couldn't be doing the same thing as a woman. one of my friends who is a nurse hauls people around all day and they can pick ME up without trying and they've never done T at all.

tl;dr: women are seen as weak and therefore their jobs are seen as easy. neither perception is actually true.

#gender #roach yells about feminism #YOU KNOW WHAT GAVE OUT ON ME??? MY FUCKIN JOINTS #not the muscles #my damn tendons don't like repetitve tasks so much #it's possible i got started on manual labor too late in life #and don't have the bone structure for it #the way boys who grew up doing sports did #which is a NERD PROBLEM #not a girl problem

[chlorinatedpopsicle]

Are there really people out there who are so stupid poorly educated about female anatomy that they genuinely believe a vagina can be surgically created out of a man’s penis? They’re just playing dumb, right?

First of all, I think it should be established that female and male pelvises are quite different:

The female pelvis is wide and shallow with a pubic arch / subpubic angle usually ranging from 80 to 90+ degrees, while the male pelvis is taller and narrower with a pubic arch / subpubic angle usually ranging from 60 to 70 degrees. This obviously results in women having wider hips and a wider Q angle (Quadriceps angle):

Women’s pelvic structure allows for a greater range of motion in the hips (hence why women do better in gymnastics).

Because the female pelvis is designed to allow for childbirth, the pelvic cavity is significantly wider and rounder than that of the male. Also, in the male pelvis, the sacrum + coccyx (tail bone) projects further into the pelvic cavity.

A man’s 1) narrower pubic arch and 2) significantly less spacious pelvic cavity mean that a “vagina” would sit on his pelvis very differently than it would on a woman’s. (It also makes the idea of a TIM getting a uterus transplant and successfully giving birth absolutely ridiculous, but that's besides the point.)

Even if male and female pelvises were the same, a surgically-created “vagina” still would not be able to function anything like an actual vagina.

The vagina / vaginal canal is an organ lined with powerful muscles, and it is those muscles which give it the ability to expand and contract. A “neovagina” is not an organ, but an inverted pocket of penis skin (and sometimes, if there is not enough penis skin available, colon tissue). It is not lined with muscles, and thus does not have the ability to expand and contract. It’s just a stationary hole—which brings me to the next point:

The vagina is a self-cleaning organ. It naturally flushes out vaginal discharge (dead vaginal/cervical skin cells, vaginal/cervical mucus, and bacteria) on a regular basis to keep itself clean and healthy. No douching or dilating necessary. A surgically-created “vagina” obviously does not have that ability. When bacteria, fungus, pus, blood, and/or dead cells inevitably build up inside the wound, it needs to be manually dilated and cleaned out; a neovagina needs to be dilated (and possibly douched) every single day in order to prevent it from closing up (since it is literally a wound trying to heal itself) and to prevent bacteria buildup / the formation of fungus. Many men who have undergone vaginoplasties describe the daily dilation process as painful and tiresome, and many have also shared horror stories of disgusting smells, various types of fungus growing inside, and even hair growing inside. (Oh, and I'm sure it doesn't help that they also pee out of it. This probably doesn't need to be said, but women don't pee out of their vaginas.)

In the grand majority of cases, getting a vaginoplasty means permanently losing one’s ability to orgasm. It doesn’t take a genius to understand why. It isn’t naturally lubricating like an actual vagina. It doesn’t expand when aroused like an actual vagina. If just dilating the neovagina is painful, how do you think having someone thrust their dick into it would feel? Sometimes, the skin of the inside of the neovagina hardens in an effort to heal itself. When that happens, intercourse is largely sensationless.

Then there’s the fact that, in a neovagina, the “clitoris” is just a nub with none of the abilities of an actual clitoris.

Contrary to popular belief, the clitoris is not just a nub, it’s an entire organ. Most of it is just hidden under the surface:

The role that the clitoris plays in female pleasure is immense; most women can only orgasm if they receive clitoral simulation.

The clitoris has at least 8000 nerve endings. The “wings” of the clitoris also hug and squeeze the labia minora. A neovagina’s pseudo-clitoris isn’t even comparable.

One last thing: The fact that fat works differently in women and men is also an important factor, I think. Women’s bodies require more essential fat, and fat accumulates in different areas on women and men: In women, fat accumulates in the upper arms, the tummy, and, most importantly, the hips, thighs, and buttocks. Women’s much higher level of fat in this area is the reason why women have cellulite and (most) men do not. TIMs can get injections in their hips/thighs/buttocks to try to mimic women's natural fat distribution, but they can never achieve women's natural softness and squishiness.

#mine #TIM bullshit #TRA bullshit #health risks of transition

[brothermoth]

Rdr2 and period accuracy I guess

Bonus points to whoever was in charge of historical details in rdr2 because the amount of spot on, God awful hair and beard styles makes me so happy. 1800-1900 were some of the worst years for decent haircuts. Clothes? Great, wonderful. BUT MUTTON CHOPS??? That stupid middle part slicked-back hair for men? Crimes. War crimes.

Look at this shit. You see this??? Some of these fellas have attractive faces but then they ruined it by doing THAT. Civil war era and regency period are my absolute least favorite times for men. How do you let that hair rope stay on your face?? Half of them look like they're wearing toupees or desperately combing the last bits of balding hair (some of them are, to be fair). Half the NPCs in red dead are utterly unfuckable and I love it. It's really cool when media lets people be ugly and grimy. A lot of the people Arthur comes across are poor, working class people who were often a little gross, especially men living on horseback doing a lot of manual labor. The women wear makeup, but they're not overly polished Hollywood esque pantomimes of historical women. They're allowed to be a little nasty too. Karen absolutely has the pussy equivalent of the Chernobyl elephant's foot and I love that for her! Sometimes media overdoes the unclean factor and makes it like...a metaphor in and of itself for low morals (Pirates of the Caribbean I love you but yeah). Your main characters are shiny and clean where villains are dirty and "unclean".

This is not to say poverty=dirt. At the time though, extreme poverty in cities and places with no natural water sources did equal a bit of funk. They just couldn't afford to pay for baths. Those who cared used perfumes, sponge baths when available. They kept their undergarments regularly washed if they could. The thing is, just like today, some people just didn't care. They lived in the woods and said "fuck it" and didn't bother. Rdr2 says "yeah ain't nobody is washing their ass ♥️" and let that apply to our protagonists too! No matter how much you bathe Arthur that man wears boots with no socks and it's so bad even Sean comments on the man's feet. I can't even wear Crocs without socks because that shit is a biohazard. Imagine BOOTS.

I don't know where I was going with this, but the overall gist is that we should strive for accuracy and a fair portrayal of human bodies as things that do in fact produce ick. And that's okay! You can be hot and also have lack of access to modern hygiene. Unless you have mutton chops, I guess.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #History #Historical rant from an anthropology nerd #arthur morgan #Karen Jones #red dead redemption

[ochipi]

What nobody tells you about archaeology

Dear tumblr people. Archaeology sounds like it’s the most exiting job on the planet. And while I think that’s true for me personally, let us not think Indiana Jones and promises during job interviews or what your professors will try to convince you of. If you want to keep living in dreams, don’t read further (I’m sorry)

You’ll get a new sense of hygiene. Eating with dirty hands? Sure. Clean nails? On what planet even? What you mean my car is dirty? Grocery shopping covering in mud? It’s just soil. Nothing disgusting about it. Sand throughout your house? Just part of the life as an archaeologist

The stereotype says that people ask about dinosaurs, but all they truly want to hear from you is the words “gold” and “treasure”. And you can answer jokingly about two times and than you will be absolutely done with the dumbness of the public

There are a lot of women in archaeology and we do the same manual labor a man does. But construction site workers and the public sometimes too will question your abilities. A woman in a digger is like a theatre show. Women wearing working gear clothes is weird. People will be (overly) worried. Sometimes to the point the public is relieved when you say you’re an archaeologist. Not that they would know if it’s better or not. But is sounds better than sewer pipe cleaner or construction worker or demolition worker. Like hey. We do medieval sewage systems. Respect other peoples jobs please.

I graduated under the promising words that archaeology is a science and you make the world better with your research results and you need to do a good job because you can only do it once or it will be gone forever. No. Archaeology is subject to politics and economics more than the academic world. You are part of a company that has to make money in the end of the day. Everything can be turned into the most ideal outcome for your client or your boss as well. Things can and will be faked. And laws and heritage services are just plain shit

You work terrible hours of manual labor for a very low paycheck. Most work at private companies, they have competition, they have to go cheaper than the other one. And you will suffer for it. Either personally or by the materials you work with i.e. everything is broken and will never be replaced

You will always be subject of impossible expectations. Be it by your boss, the client, the landowner or the heritage department. They are all people with no idea how or why we do what we do. And it sucks. It’s like talking to a brick wall. They will not bend, they can only crack (their ego’s).

#archaeologist #history #stereotypes #indiana jones #archaeology #archaeology meme #meme #archaeology problems #field archaeology #history meme #economy #world problems #geology #anthropology meme #anthropology #paleontology meme #paleontology #historian #human skeleton #human bones #roman empire #ancient greece

[biolizardboils]

Presenting, for possibly the first time anywhere on the entire Internet... the Official 3-D Hypno-Ring instruction manual!

Transcription and extra notes under the cut!

__________________

OFFICIAL 3-D Hypno-Ring™ Instruction Manual

WARNING: Improper use of this ring may result in irreversible mental disturbances and severe psychological trauma. Keep out of reach of mad scientists and evil geniuses.

©1997 The Li’l Wiseguy Novelty Co.

__________________

⚡ WELCOME to the WONDERFUL WORLD of HYPNOSIS! ⚡

In this booklet, you’ll learn how to use your new 3-D Hypno-Ring to amaze your friends, control your enemies, and rule the world!

[NOTE: This ring is for entertainment purposes only. The Li’l Wiseguy Novelty Company hereby disclaims all responsibility for any global conquests which may result from the use or misuse of the 3-D Hypno-Ring.]

__________________

INSTRUCTIONS:

1. Put the 3-D Hypno-Ring on your finger—DANGER: DO NOT STARE DIRECTLY INTO THE RING! 2. Ask a friend to stare directly into the ring. 3. Slowly move the ring back and forth. 4. Instruct your friend to stare deeper and deeper into the ring. Say the word “deeper” over and over again, very slowly.

__________________

5 [sic] Tell your friend that he or she is getting very sleepy. Say the words “very sleepy” again and again, slower and slower. 6. When your friend closes his or her eyes, say these words: “You are under my spell. When I snap my fingers, you will obey my every command!” 7. Now have some fun! Turn them into a dog...or a banana. Tell them to do all your homework from now on...

__________________

...or make ‘em clean your room. Use your imagination- it’s fun! 8. [sic] To safely bring a person out of a trance, just snap your fingers, then give them a hug.

DO NOT POUR WATER ON THEIR HEADS!

[DANGER: The 3-D Hypno Ring [sic] may have an opposite effect on adult females. Who knew?]

__________________

Caution: The 3-D Hypno Ring may cause headaches, nausea, runny nose, diaper rash, watery eyes, post-nasal drip, upset stomach, nervousness, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, increased appetite, hiccups, hives, tunnel vision, projectile diarrhea, gingivitis, temporary hallucinations, irreversible brain damage, halitosis, fever, dizziness, excessive hair growth on the shoulders and upper back, sore throat, coughing, interest in yoga, pink-eye, tennis elbow, runner’s knee, athlete’s foot, bowler’s belly, pitcher’s mound, secretaries’ day, author’s misanthropism, dejà vu...

__________________

...dejà vu, stiffness in joints, stubbed toes, weeping, gnashing of teeth, drooling, snoring, severe belching and flatulence, vertigo, receding hairline, dandruff, ring-around-the-collar, stuffy nose, sneezing, tingling in extremities, achy-breaky heart, stinky-winky feet, split ends, profuse sweating, an uncontrollable urge to watch Bette Midler movies, paranoia, ingrown toenails, and/or chapped lips.

It’s Fun for the Whole Family!

__________________

WARNING!!!

Whatever you do, don’t pour water on anybody’s head while they are in a trance! This will cause the hypnotized person to slip back and forth from trance to reality whenever they hear the sound of fingers snapping.

TM &© 2001 Day [sic] Pilkey

__________________

Notes:

This thing is 4 pages longer than I expected (including the front and back “covers”)?? To think that this vital statistic went undocumented for so long...

The 2001 copyright date on the package sticker has been visible in photos for years; despite this, I’ve hesitated on pinning this as the Ring’s production date. The mention of the Works-Opposite-On-Women thing makes me more confident that the manual, at least, was added to the package in 2001, perhaps close to or after Book 5 dropped that August. (I’d still say the Ring itself is still up in the air, given the multiple claims of it being given out as early as 1997. Which brings up some more questions: Did those early Rings come with a different manual and sticker, or none at all?)

Speaking of the Works-Opposite-On-Women thing, the wording of “may” kills me fghjf. It’s like the Company found this glaring malfunction during testing and went “oh well, off to mass production!” No wonder they got shut down lol

The back cover looks exactly as it appeared in Book 1, down to the sentence breaks! The only addition is the copyright info on the right side.

I’ve been laughing at “Day Pilkey” for 20 minutes now lol. I thought of correcting all the typos in my transcription, but they’re cute to me so I left them in

Somehow it never occurred to me that Dav himself might’ve written this manual. The long list of silly side-effects is a big giveaway. There’s little guarantee he’ll remember the answer after all this time, but it’s a question I’ll be keeping in mind just in case.

The Ring itself is so tiny that I’m scared to wear it fhgjghj, it might get stuck past my knuckle or even break! Also I can’t snap my fingers so it’s not like I could use it anyway

Besides the Black Lenticular Spiral/Red Light-Up Spiral thing, there’s another small difference between this Ring and the Movie-era one. This one has “3-D” printed vertically on its shoulders and “Hypno-Ring” printed horizontally on its halo; the Movie one has the full name on its halo, minus the hyphen between 3 and D. (Look up “ring anatomy” if that sentence doesn’t make sense.)

The package is resealable, so I’ve put everything back in. I’ll be storing it in the little plastic chest I keep my first-edition CU books in, away from excess heat, excess light, and—most importantly—the wrong hands!

I’ve been waiting 20 years to get my hands on this thing. (Well, okay, first I stewed about it for about 1-3 years as a kid, then forgot about it for 11, then suddenly remembered it and stewed for 6 more, but you get this gist.) It’s nuts to finally hold it in my hands, let alone be the first to preserve a piece of it. Let this be a lesson to all: no matter how long it takes or how silly it is, your personal Holy Grail still exists for the taking... though it might cost over 40 bucks!

#captain underpants #dav pilkey #captain underpants the first epic movie #the epic tales of captain underpants #3-d hypno-ring #3d hypno ring #3-d hypno ring #3d hypno-ring #toys #merch #caps tw #hypnosis tw #cu #cu books #long #me talking

[writingwithcolor]

Happy New Year from WWC, Updates, aka we’re alive! (12/31/22)

Hi lovely followers,

First of all, thanks so much for your patience and all your continued support for WritingWithColor. 2022 has been heavily, heartily, devoted to tending to our personal lives, from pressing demands at work, school, mental health, family matters, and so on. All the while, trying to dig through the long backlog of Q's.

2023 should show us some more devotion to WWC. We'll answer more questions, invite fresh mods in the team to balance the load, and last (but not least) get the new Writingwithcolor.org up and running! Your kind donations have gone towards the new blog in progress and will continue to support it. Once that’s all established and stabilized, we’ll look into meeting our other fun goals, such as:

Diverse writing advice e-publications.

Follower giveaways and bonus content.

Charity and community causes.

See support the mods page to donate or learn more

We have made some major strides behind the scenes, though. 

Progress made in 2022

Here's some progress made so far.

1. Writingwithcolor.org, as mentioned, is a thing! Its also been around for a while. It won't forever lead to tumblr, but to our new site, when it's complete. But as long as Tumblr is around and working for us, we'll keep some sort of link between them, so no need for you to fully switch to a new platform to see our content. (Note: you can use that URL to share WWC on other social media. Facebook has blocked all Tumblr URLs, as is.)

2. Major clean-up in the tags, improvements to search. You'll notice both consolidation and separation of some tags. For example, you can search the tags for "Black stereotypes" or even "Black women stereotypes" whereas before they were separated out, which created a less concise search. 

Updated tags and improvements:

X + stereotypes (e.g. Jewish stereotypes, Jewish women stereotypes, etc.)

X + tropes (e.g. Black tropes, Black men tropes, etc.)

X + names (e.g. Indian names, Korean names, etc.)

Colonialism, was colonization

Exotification, was exotic

Fetishization, was fetish

Othering, was other

Microaggressions, was micro-aggressions (the "-” breaks search)

lgbtqia, was lgbtqa+ and lgbtqia+ (the “+” breaks search)

interracial + romance, friendship, relationships, marriage, adoption (it used to all be nestled under "interracial”)

Many more, with some changes ongoing. Check the navigation

What to expect in 2023

     1. Blog askbox re-opening. We haven't determined a exact date yet, but it will be early 2023. | Early 2023

     2. New askbox. Along with re-opening the askbox, we will have a new means for you to submit your questions. | Early 2023

     Our new askbox will:

Streamline the process by organizing the Q's for us (Previously, they’ve been manually screened and organized by Colette with the help of others...oo wee) 

Allow us to respond to questions faster.

Help guide askers through the process to better ensure ask is meeting guidelines, making it more likely to be answered.

     3. New blog launch! Individually hosted and paid for by donation funds from you all! | Spring 2023

     4. Continued blog improvement and cleanup (i.e. tag improvement, outdated post updating or deletion, fixed broken links) | Ongoing, 2023

Again, thanks so much for your support and just enjoying the blog. If you’d like to reply to this post to boost your favorite inclusive books or media of 2022, feel free.

See ya in 2023!

Sincerely,

~Mod Colette and the WWC Team

#wwc #writingwithcolor #wwc updates #books #authors

[buttercuparry]

If your take on many of the characters in the asoiaf series is based on the metaphor of toilet cleaning, with a few jabs thrown in that does nothing but reinforce the same lame ass take that you and your fellow people in the fandom circle agree on, then that in fact is no more clever than a brick resting on a dirt mound.

Now this is a funny post I guess. A clever post, OP thinks for sure. They preface it by saying that the best metric to judge someone is by finding out how, they feel about toilet cleaning. And of course, they say, since Asoiaf is about a bunch of noble borns, their aversion to toilet cleaning shines through in immaculate detail. The few exceptions out of those nobles are included in op's post, but the final conclusion is that all but one of them is normal about toilet cleaning.

And I absolutely have no qualms with Op's conclusion. To each their own after all. But since, in their very own style, the post has the same old flavour of insinuating that Arya Stark only plays at being disadvantaged after Ned Stark's death, I felt like I should impart some more flavour to balance it out.

As we see in the above excerpt of Op's toilet cleaning adventures, it is implied that the problem Arya has is with the toilet cleaning in itself. For those who are still confused, the metaphor of toilet cleaning references the manual labor that goes in running a castle- scrubbing floors, fetching water, delivering messages etc. So the way of life a lowborn is forced to live in Westeros. I can't help but see how even when op uses the word "slave" in reference to Arya's position in Harrenhal, it never really got translated in their understanding of what slavery means. Being a slave/prisoner of war in Harrenhal meant that this wasn't an employment. This was the complete ownership of Arya by those who instructed her and thus by those, who had the command of the castle. Pretty sure that slavery which has been the running theme of Grrm's books is said to be unbearable even when the slave is wearing the golden collar in place of chains (remember Daenerys?). In my understanding, Arya hates herself and everyone involved less for the toilet cleaning and more for the fact that this toilet cleaning is forced on every single prisoner of war, and they can't say no because saying no leads to death. Like pretty sure she witnessed a girl getting raped every night and when the girl finally said no by attacking her rapist, she was promptly cut down. I also have this passage that details what led up to Arya's toilet cleaning slavery at Harrenhal. Let's have a look shall we?

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. One boy of three would not stop calling for his father, so they smashed his face in with a spiked mace. Then the boy's mother started screaming and Raff the Sweetling killed her as well.

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. Most were women and children. The few men were very old or very young; the rest had been chained to that gibbet and left for the wolves and the crows. Gendry was only spared because he'd admitted to forging the horned helm himself; smiths, even apprentice smiths, were too valuable to kill.

They were being taken to serve Lord Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal, the Mountain told them. "You're traitors and rebels, so thank your gods that Lord Tywin's giving you this chance. It's more than you'd get from the outlaws. Obey, serve, and live

Obey, serve and live. That's the toilet cleaning op of the excerpt references to. And then there comes the topic of Arya mellowing out to the toilet cleaning (slavery) after her very own "murder-by-proxy spree". Now I don't mean to assume, but it feels like op has gone down the same drain of Arya the murder baby trope, where it is believed that murdering people is just another way for Arya Stark to decompress after a stressful week at work. When a slave is forced to slavery, and gets the means by which they can attack the slaver to strike down their chains- I am pretty sure it is natural that they would feel some type of way about it. They would feel that now they have some control and is no more the toilet cleaning mouse. The regaining of agency is the difference between the mouse and the wolf. It is less about toilet cleaning and more about agency since, Arya "the once toilet cleaning mouse" seemed to voluntarily want to be a part of the crew onboard of a ship. Now idk much about sailing, but this I can say, being on a ship earning your keep involves a looooot of toilet cleaning for sure.

I have no more energy to dissect the last throwaway statement but I am happy it is finally being recognized that the death cult is truly a way to cope, when half of your family is dead and you can't do anything about it because the people in power have caused that death. Hopefully it would soon translate into seeing the list as a coping mechanism too and no more bullshit about being a mindless murder baby

#arya stark #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls

[internet-sadass]

Mind Over Matter (Outpost!Michael x Reader)

Blurb: Michael has never had the chance to fuck anyone. He’s never found it appealing, even though he knows he is sexually attractive to pretty much anyone he encounters.  Now that he’s in the outpost and has everyone there under his control, he starts to get a few ideas about Y/N, a human gray. Maybe he could be putting her to better uses than scrubbing floors.

Warnings: smut, masturbation, spooky ooky kooky mind control (so slightly non-con??), degradation, sadism, mentions of death

Sex had never been something Michael got to experience, not that he had ever really wanted to. He never thought about sex very much. Of course, plenty of men and women had offered themselves to him. He knew what people were thinking when they stared at him, the lust in their eyes was hardly difficult to decipher. Perhaps the fact he knew he could have it any time made it seem common and uninteresting. He could never grasp why sex seemed to make the world go round for humans.

This all changed after he moved into Outpost three, where he ruled over every other being there. That power he felt when someone did his bidding, obeyed each command, quivered before him since they knew the repercussions of going against his word turned him on. He finally found himself regularly getting hard just thinking about people doing what he wanted them to do or fearing his wrath. Every time he stood in his black tiled shower, fisting his cock whilst steaming water battered his back, he came to the thought of someone whimpering below him, completely under his command. Finally, sex made sense to him; it was all about power. And what he wanted now was someone to exercise complete power over.

Out of all the people who he had decided to allow into the outpost with him, only one of them seemed to be suitable for his purpose. Y/N was a gray who was quiet and nervous. He could practically smell the anxiety radiating off her whenever they crossed paths. She was nothing but a mere human being, someone who he could destroy with a snap of his fingers. The way she never met his eye and shrank away whenever he looked her direction made him smile to himself. She was so docile and obedient, not just to him but to whomever commanded her, even the purples who she didn’t owe respect or obedience. She was, in Michael’s eyes, built for subservience. Built for being overpowered.

That’s why he decided he was going to use her for more than just scrubbing the floors of the outpost.

***

You were on your hands and knees, scrubbing the stone floor with a stiff bristled old brush. Your back was beginning to ache, as were your forearms and shoulders. This manual labour was a far cry from your old life, which you were now realising was a lot cushier than you first thought. In the outpost, you spent nearly every waking moment cleaning or washing clothes without the aid of electrical appliances. Even if sleeping could have been escape from the misery of your new monotonous life, you scarcely got any. Your pre-existing insomnia had gotten worse as your bed was a thin and hard mattress paired with some flea-bitten old blankets. Your nights were spent staring at the ceiling, not sure whether to be grateful you weren’t dead in the nuclear waste land outside or be angry that you were going to be worked to the bone here despite surviving the fucking apocalypse. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts and the rhythmic repetitive movement of the brush that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you. Michael stood, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, watching your hunched figure scrub the floor. He focused on picturing the body under the grubby pinafore, especially as you were unknowingly presenting your ass to him. If he cleared his throat, he bet you would twitch and turn to face him, fear in your E/C eyes, ready to obey whatever words he said.

That, however, would be too easy, too obvious, and too boring. No, Michael wanted something better than that. Mind control of humans, he had found, was very very easy. Right now, he could hear your thoughts. All he needed to do was tap into that stream of consciousness and command your mind or body. Without moving a finger, he made one of your hands move away from the brush and between your thighs. Gently, your fingers brushed against the cotton of your panties, rubbing your clit which hadn’t seen much attention in the past few weeks. 

Dammit, why do I feel turned on right now? I guess no one will see me. Plus, only sex is punishable here, they didn’t say anything about masturbating.

Michael smirked to himself. Your human brain was justifying the actions he was controlling. Your fingers moved quicker, rubbing tight circles on your clit, making a little bit of wetness dampen your panties. Soon, he commanded your fingers to push your panties aside and press into your wet cunt. A soft whimper came from your mouth as you found yourself fingering yourself, biting your lip to prevent yourself from making too much sound. you had no idea why you were touching yourself or why you suddenly felt so horny, but it had hit you like a wave. A moan escaped your lips as you pressed two fingers inside yourself, your fingertips tickling your G-spot. 

Michael’s cock twitched at the sound of your moan. You looked so pathetic and helpless, completely at the mercy at whatever he wanted you to do. Best part was that you didn’t even know it was him doing it. He watched you fuck yourself with your fingers, your moans muffled by your other hand as you attempted to silence yourself. Finally, he decided he was finished toying with you for day. His curiosity and desires were satisfied, his cock was hard and in need of release, and he now knew how easy it was to control you. He transmuted himself back to his room, wasting no time in pulling out his hardened and dripping length. He thrusted into his hand, picturing you on all fours, his length stretching your tight twat and you moaning and begging him to fill your desperate hole. With a deep groan, he came into his hand, shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm.

***

Your eyes snapped open. Stirring from your bed, you found your legs moving without you even deciding to move. Your body was carrying you away without your permission. You tried to stop but you kept on moving, ascending the stairs leading up from the gray quarters. All along the darkened corridors you walked, although you didn’t know where you were walking. Panic set in as you couldn’t regain control over your body, as much as you tried to grab onto the smooth stone walls to stop your relentless pace. Your body rushed past several dark doorways, coming to stop outside the only one with candles lit outside. 

“Oh fuck.” You whispered to yourself, recognising who’s door you were currently stood outside. 

Before you could even form the words ‘Michael Langdon’ in your mind, your hand was on the handle and sliding the door open. The room, however, was empty. You sighed in relief, thankful that you weren’t face to face with an enraged Michael, who would undoubtedly kill you for entering his room so boldly. Your body marched you into his room, taking no notice of your mental protests. 

The door you had left open slammed shut with a bang that made you jump. You wanted to turn around to see who or what had closed the door, but your feet had rooted themselves to the stone floor.

“May I ask why you are in my room, gray?” asked Michael in his seductive drawl, taking agonisingly slow steps towards you as you stood, quivering like a cornered animal, unable to flee or face him.

“I-I am sorry, sir. I will leave immediately.” You squeaked out, feeling like you were being choked. You felt his form loom over you from behind.

“Then leave. Get out of my sight before I decide to do something worse than ask Miss Venable to double your workload for the next four weeks.” He commanded, although the anger in his voice seemed dulled down, not quite as threatening as it usually was. It sounded almost fake, like he was putting it on.

You didn’t want to risk misinterpreting his anger, however. You tried to move your body in the direction of the door but your legs moved in the opposite direction, walking you to the large bed in the centre of the room. You sat, spreading your legs. Your left hand began to creep towards your panties.

“No! No, stop!” You said aloud, grabbing your left wrist and trying to wrench it away. It was no use, as whatever it was that was moving your body for you was far more powerful than you. Defeated, you let your fingers caress the lips of your pussy through your cotton panties.

“You are a filthy human, touching yourself in my presence!” Michael seethed, looking annoyed by your display but also staring intently at the way your fingers moved against the fabric and how the lips of your cunt were stuck to it, already creating a damp patch.

“I don’t mean to; I don’t know has come over me!” You wailed, both frightened and frustrated with whatever was going on with your body. Your fingers kept on stroking your cunt, beginning to move more fervently.

Michael could feel blood rush to his cock. The panic on your face and your confusion over what had caused your body to cease to be under your control enthralled him. You were merciless to his power as he made you yank your panties off and begin fucking yourself. You alternated between moaning and crying, as your body was aroused whilst you were terrified of what Michael was going to do to you for touching yourself in front of him. Tears dripped off your face, wetting your cotton night dress and making it become translucent. To Michael, you were a picture of powerlessness which only made his length harden more, making his black slacks uncomfortably tight.  

As fun as it was to watch you finger-fuck yourself whilst begging him to forgive you, Michael decided to reveal who was controlling your body. After all, he couldn’t have your crying waking everyone up and interrupting his fun.

“Y/N, do you have any idea why you cannot control yourself?” He asked, his voice calm yet cruel.

“No-no, I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know why I’m doing this. I don’t mean to I just c-cant stop.” You said hopelessly, feeling yourself blush as you looked up at him staring at you hungrily. Of course, you thought he was very attractive, you’d have to be blind not to, but that didn’t lessen the embarrassment of having him watch you touch yourself like a horny teenager. 

Your fingers went limp. Your whole body went slack, and you fell backwards onto the bed. Whatever force had been contorting your body had ceased. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked at Michael who was smirking, a look of smug delight on his face. It finally clicked.

He had been controlling your body. 

Not just tonight, but that time when you had begun touching yourself when scrubbing the floor. All sense of fear left you as you glared at his smug face. Michael began laughing, amused by your rage at how he has completely violated you by using your body for his entertainment.

“You…you fucking asshole!” You hissed, so furious you couldn’t even raise your voice. “How dare you do that to me!”

“You’re forgetting that I saved you from perishing out there. By all rights, you belong to me, I can do what I please with you.” Michael stretched out a hand toward you. Your body was flung back up towards the headboard. He was above you in an instant, his honey blonde hair falling about you, blocking the rest of the room from view. 

“You’re nothing but a little fuck toy for me to experiment with. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous that the son of Satan has never indulged in lust? I think it’s high time I changed that, fulfil my role, and you can fulfil yours.” He purred, leaning down so his lips brushed yours as he spoke.

So, this was all about the fact Michael Langdon, the fucking antichrist, has never had sex? Or hadn’t had enough sex (in his eyes anyway)? Maybe if he had just asked you, you would have willingly obliged to fuck him. Something told you it wasn’t just sex he wanted out of this.

You didn’t have much of a chance to ponder on this as Michael drew himself back from you and your body rolled itself over without you wanting to. The cotton nightdress that had scarcely concealed your body was removed and thrown to the floor. Your knees propped your ass up and your face pressed itself against the bed. There was denying that now that you knew it was Michael controlling your body, you felt a lot calmer about this whole ordeal. Many nights you had touched yourself, imagining how it would feel to have him fucking you into the mattress or gripping your hips as you rode him. Now that fantasy was becoming reality, you felt your pussy twitch in anticipation, very much of your own accord. His hands caressed your waist, trailing over the contours of your hip and ass. He dipped his thumb into your cunt as if he was testing you out.

“Tell me how bad you want it. Tell me how much you want me to use you.” He commanded, undoing his belt then removing his shirt and slacks.

“I want your cock to split me in two, sir. I’ve wanted it all along.” You felt embarrassed saying these kinds of things. It felt like a lifetime ago that you and your boyfriend Jim had whispered filthy things to each other on the phone at night. You felt a twang of pain at the memory of your now (most likely) dead boyfriend.

“Go on. Are you going to be my little toy for tonight?” He prompted, snapping you out of your reminiscing.

 “I’ll be your toy, sir. You can use me all night long.” You said, unsure whether you were actually saying these things out of true desire or whether it was out of desperation to feel some form of intimacy after so many months spent alone and without physical contact of any kind.

Michael’s response to your answer was to enter you without warning, using your slick as lube. His hand gripped your hip as he pressed into you going deeper and deeper, as if his cock was bottomless. You groaned into the mattress as your walls stretched around his impressive length. He wasted no time, starting to thrust in and out of your slick cunt, savouring the tightness and silky flesh. It felt vastly more pleasurable than how his hand felt. In fact, it was the greatest indulgence in pleasure he had ever felt. Now he understood why lust was one of the seven deadly sins because the feeling of your cunt sucking him in, twitching around him, and your whimpers of sheer gratification was anything but holy.

Unable to move, you were trapped beneath Michael as he pounded into you, his balls slapping your clit as he ravaged your body. You hated to admit it but this was the best sex you had ever had. Feeling helpless beneath this beauty of a man, being totally used by him for his selfish pleasure was undeniably arousing, as evidenced by how your own slick was beginning to drip onto the black sheets. Even better was the noises Michael was making; he certainly wasn’t shy about moaning and gasping as he explored how far he could push his cock into you. Considering he was technically a virgin, you felt almost honoured to be making him curse and groan whenever he felt you tighten around him. The pressure in your lower stomach was getting too much to bare as you felt your orgasm creep closer with every deep thrust.

The familiar sensation in his cock told Michael he was close to cumming. He was annoyed that he didn’t last longer but your pussy and cute whimpers as you came close to your own orgasm were so much better than his hand and his imagination. Pulling out, he seamlessly made you flip onto your back, legs spread. 

“I want to see your face when I make you cum all down my cock. You’ve been such a good little toy for me, Y/N.”  Michael said, lining himself up with your pussy.

You hated that him calling you by your name made you feel a little bit….loved? You knew he saw you as nothing more than a hole to fill, but after the heartbreak of losing Jim and having no one ever call you by your name anymore, to hear it whispered in a low and lustful tone stirred tenderness within you. Not to mention that the praise he gave you made you feel a little less invisible and a bit more appreciated, even if it was only for his pleasure.

Michael entered you again, moaning at your soft insides wrapping around his cock. He placed a hand on your lower stomach, pressing down gently. You felt your insides contract into an immediate orgasm, your hands grabbing the sheets, your mouth hanging open in shock and bliss. But the orgasm didn’t crest and fall, it just kept going and going, like you were suspended at the peak. Michael bottomed out before thrusting back into your spasming cunt, enjoying how shocked you looked at the unnatural orgasm he was giving you. You were truly under his command, completely within his control and at his disposal. With one last thrust, he came, shooting his load into your awaiting womb. He removed his hand from your stomach, allowing you to come down from your orgasm and fall back against the pillows. 

You felt utterly used; your pussy was full of Michael’s seed and you were dizzy from the sheer level the orgasm had brought you to. It wasn’t something a body was meant to endure and sure enough you were feeling it. Michael pulled out of you, panting from exertion. He had got what he wanted, and it had lived up to his fantasies. You had submitted under him, powerless and under his control. Seeing how pliable your weak human body was and how easy it was to send you into a frenzy of pleasure had converted to him to the idea that sex was something he wanted. Considering he could just make you walk up here whenever he wanted, he was certain that he would have you in here every night.

You went to get up, relieved to feel that your body was once again under your control rather than Michael’s, who looked to be in a daze. Retrieving your nightdress from the floor, you pulled it back on, guessing that now that Michael was finished with you, you were once again just another servant under his command. You snuck out the sliding door, walking back through the silent and dark hallways, trying not to think about what just happened to you.

You didn’t know if you wanted it to happen again or wanted it all to be stored away in your mind as just a terrible nightmare that was never part of reality. 

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x female reader #outpost!michael #outpost!michael x reader #outpost!michael x you #michael langdon fic #michael langdon smut #michael langdon imagine #cody fern #cody fern fic #cody fern imagine #cody fern x reader #american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #ahs smut

[emma-radfemcanu]

I'm only like 100 pages into A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin but it is honestly not an exaggeration to say I think it has changed my life

It's a collection of short stories that she wrote throughout her life, mostly between the 1960s-1980s. I had never heard of her before but I saw it randomly in a bookshop and the title stuck out to me. A lot of the stories are seemingly based on her own life (in the foreword there's a quote from one of her sons saying that she 'wrote true stories, not necessarily autobiographical' which is a sentiment I like)

They're mostly in the first person, and they all depict the lives of working class women and they all feel so real- most of them are just a few pages long and yet you get so invested and the storytelling is incredible. There's one about an abortion clinic, a couple which refer to being a little girl going to a catholic school, the titular story is about a woman on her way to work talking about all the people she cleans for

I am really not doing it justice here (so much for my English lit degree lol I am out of practice) but I have truly never read anything like it. I highly recommend it

[molsno]

when I read about the potential future of housework in women race & class I was kind of surprised that I hadn't even considered the solution angela davis describes as a possibility before. because yeah actually the way housework is currently done is really primitive when you get down to it, and there's no good reason for it other than to keep women occupied with tiresome, thankless work.

housework could be a public service where trained professionals go door to door and use specialized tools to clean more effectively in a fraction of the time. capitalists don't even invest in creating the kinds of tools that would make housework more efficient because it's simply not profitable in most cases, and even when they do exist, they're too specialized for the average person to justify spending the amount of money necessary to buy one for their own use (just look at the price of roombas for example).

in any case, any communist movement needs to seriously address structural misogyny so that women are no longer forced to do intensive and repetitive manual labor for no reward. the solution should not be financial compensation for women, it should be freeing women from the burden of housework altogether!

#txt #sorry for making this one unrebloggable I'm still sheltering myself #just go read women race & class

[not100bees]

i got sucked into a youtube shorts hole and like. the number 1 complaint about mens rights nuts is golddigging women who won't date cheap or poor men and want men to pay for everything and won't get a job. number 2 complaint is that modern women don't cook or clean anymore. they want women to do all of the manual labor of a traditional housewife but they also don't want to be the breadwinner.

[ovaruling]

volunteering at the new sanctuary went great! got a lot of cleaning and scrubbing done and did a lot of the harder manual labor jobs that the older women were very appreciative of help with. i love love love to do that tbh i love showing up to a place and going “so what’s the job people most hate doing here” and just doing that. came home covered in filth and ecstatic. good day. will definitely be back as often as i can. once again i wish i was 10 people

[useless-catalanfacts]

Filomena Sanglas Guiu at the portal of her home. Unknown photographer, around 1920.

Filomena was born in the sharecropper’s farm (masoveria) Can Sanglas in Orís (Central Catalonia), the 19th of March, 1853. In 1880, when she married Jaume Solà Alou, she moved to the farmhouse (masia) el Llobet de Tavertet, near the monastery Sant Pere de Casserres.

Filomena and Jaume had five daughters and four sons. Even though the historical documents refer to Filomena as “without profession”, “domestic” and, even, “those appropriate for her sex”, we know that Filomena did what she had also seen from her mother: she raised her nine children, fed and took care of the health of her family, washed clothes, sewed, and took part of the work in the fields and taking care of the livestock. Her family remember Filomena as a spinner, an activity that she combined with all the other ones.

When her husband died in 1905, Filomena moved to her oldest son’s farmhouse. The last years of her life, grandmother Llobeta (l’àvia Llobeta), as Filomena was known, dedicated her time to spinning and picking medicinal herbs, which then she sold in the nearby marketplaces. She died on February 23rd, 1945, at 93 years old.

Source: Museu del Ter de Manlleu.

I’m sharing this story as one example of many of a common practise in our country, and in many other countries as well. When the documents of the time say that a lower or middle class woman was “without a job” or was a housewife (“domestic”, or what’s understood by “those appropriate for her sex”), that is more often an idealistic vision of what she should be doing, more than a description of what she actually did.

In this case, we see Filomena was a farmer (worked in the fields and with livestock) and a spinner, as well as doing the domestic labour (providing food, cooking, setting the table, washing the dishes, taking care of children, washing clothes, sewing, cleaning the house, making the bed...), and we must remember that washing clothes back then meant going to the river to manually clean them, it took way longer than throwing them in a washing-machine.

We can see that by looking at her hands. How unfair would it be to say that she (and women in general) didn’t work!

#història #catalunya #orís #les masies de roda #manlleu #museu del ter #history #working class history #labor his #women's history #women in history