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hillbillyoracle · 2 years

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Fuck Goals, Fuck Vision Boards

Task Management for Planning Averse

AKA Even People with Zero Direction in Life Deserve Nice Things

So if you don’t already follow Dana K. White on YouTube, you should. She’s the author of the blog A Slob Comes Clean and several books. What I’m going to talk about below is heavily inspired by her work which is why I wanted to cite her upfront but also seriously go check her videos out if you’re trying to declutter and get organized.

Right now I’m mostly using her videos and it’s genuinely the only decluttering method that has ever worked for me. And one of the reasons it works for me where others haven’t is that it is a system that doesn’t rely on feelings or valuation.

I realized that as I’ve gotten better at task management in my life - though lord knows the move has made that more complicated - I realized that not using feelings or judgement based questions is what really helped me. I also realized that I had 100% completely given up on goals. I had neglected to set goals for a couple years now and weirdly I got more productive, not less. What gives?

Step 0: Give Up on Goals and the Fantasy Self

What I realized is that goals were really just a product of what a lot of decluttering folks call my “fantasy self”. My fantasy self woke up at 5am and did little work out videos but trying to leap to become that fantasy self fucking sucked. It was not enjoyable once the novelty wore off and it largely didn’t present enough benefit to justify doing it.

Which meant I would stop and then I would feel bad about myself and I’d pick up bad habits to cope with the feeling and then I was worse off than before.

So when I stopped setting goals, I stopped declining at least because there wasn’t that rebound effect where I self soothed using way too much ice cream and binge watching whatever I could find. I hit a baseline that wasn’t amazing but the stability was helpful. Only when I gave up on the fantasy life did my actual life get better.

Capitalism loves the fantasy self. People spend so much money to try to become their fantasy self and often don’t even benefit that much from it. Then the guilt of seeing that stuff around can lead folks to by more stuff to cope with the guilt. The only people winning are the companies who you buy from.

Also, folks with executive dysfunction have a very hard time picturing what done looks like. So trying to picture your “ideal day” is low key a nightmare experience for someone like me. Mission Statements can be real intimidating when you’re not totally sure what those words will mean for the decisions you make. Vision boards...I’m sorry I know some folks love them but I really do not enjoy them. They’re a sensory overload of an experience to me from the crafting to taking them in. I’ve never made a vision board that really did much for me.

I’ve also recently learned about The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin and I am definitely a Rebel. So too much pressure internal or external and I will find the quickest exit possible. Rebels are a small but sizeable portion of folks according to the authors research. Which means there are likely other people out there who also find goals to be way too much fucking pressure.

This is all to say - fuck goals. But you’ve still got a life to live so how do you move the needle in the positive direction?

Step 1: Initial Brain Dump

People would always tell me to brain dump but never really explained how. They were like “Yeah just get all this stuff in your head out on paper” and I’m like...I don’t even know what’s in my head unless I go looking for it.

So I offer you two questions and two methods of gathering answers.

When trying to brain dump, ask yourself:

What do I spend a lot of time thinking about?

What are the specific tasks associated with these subjects?

If you can’t think of next specific tasks associated with those subjects, it does necessarily mean you need to strike it off you list, it’ll just be a little tougher to know where it fits.

Sometimes I’m able to sit down and answer these questions all in one go. And sometimes it’s much easier to keep a running list in my phone and when I realize I’ve been thinking a lot about something I add it to the list. Then later I can sit down and come up with specific tasks or process it in step 2.

Step 2: Task Punnett

In step 2 I look at my list and ask myself two questions:

Do I already spend time doing this?

Will I face a negative result if I don’t do this?

This gives four categories a list item can be sorted into.

Yes/Yes

The goal here is to prevent burnout so you don’t stop spending time doing these. Common ones are cooking, cleaning, or seeing friends. So it’s important to look at each of these and make sure they’re as easy and enjoyable as possible.

It also helps to know what your minimum is for each so that if you’re burning out you can scale back to your minimum effective dose is that allows you to avoid the material harm but give you a break - like getting take out or having freezer meals on hand, knowing what the most important cleaning tasks are and only doing those, and at least sending texts or voice memos to friends to connect.

Yes/No

The goal here is to protect this time as much as possible. It’s what tends to go when Yes/Yes and No/Yes tasks start to get out of hand. That will look different for different people but it almost always involves capping Yes/Yes and No/Yes time and not allowing yourself to go over. As you might have guess most hobbies go here.

Some people will need other people to help encourage them to keep doing it. Some people will need flexibility so it feels like they’re truly choosing it. Some people will need to refresh their memory that these kinds of activities are just as necessary as other types of tasks.

Guilt and shame is a big one that keeps people from having many things going in this box but it can also be a lack of self knowledge too. We’re not exactly encouraged to explore what we truly deeply love. Mental illness can also make this box tricky as anhedonia can make everything feel bleh.

In all of these cases, I really suggest making some sort of reflective practice something you try to keep in this box so you can notice what triggers guilt, what sparks joy, and what just isn’t working after a while. Doesn’t have to be journaling in the traditional sense. I used to turn on my computer cam and just talk but now that I need more audio privacy, this has been really helping me.

No/Yes

I fucking hate this box in all honesty. It’s the one that drains me and makes me feel like shit to look at this list but also I feel the most badass when I actually complete something off of it.

The goal with this box is to figure out what’s blocking you from this being a Yes/Yes. Basically finish the sentence “I don’t really want to do this because...” and you’re on your way. Most barriers can be dealt with. I used to not believe this but I promise it’s true.

This is where having a therapist, good friend, or community where you can bounce ideas off of can really make all the difference. A reflection practice can also really help get a different perspective too. Sometimes the barriers loom so large in our mind that adaptation seems ridiculous or impossible. Take advantage of different perspectives.

Automation, delegation, and congregation (body double or a group) are incredibly useful tools here. Don’t do more here than you need to.

What’s key in the second question for this section is that this is something you have the power to impact the outcome of. If you don’t have the power to change the outcome or you’ve done all you can, then the task is bracing, mitigating, and accepting, not dealing with the topic/task head on.

No/No

There are 2 main things I find in this category - shit I agreed to because I felt obligated and someday maybe projects. For shit I agreed to, the only remedy is to just get out of it, to bail in the most graceful way possible. I also try to prevent stuff from winding up here to begin with (no more event planning for me for a while).

For someday maybe projects, I like to keep a space - usually Notion - where I can collect my thoughts on it, projects, and pain a picture of what it would take to make it a Yes/No task someday in the future - always keeping in mind what I could do with the materials and time I have available right now. I’ve picked a quite a few of my No/No tasks this way and made them things I do regularly because I left myself those breadcrumbs for later.

Step 3: Prioritizing without Feelings

So now you have your tasks organized into these buckets and know what to keep in mind with each. So...what do you do with them?

A lot of people will tell you to prioritize and do the hardest first while your willpower is strong but I say fuck that my willpower is never strong so we’re going to do easiest first to build up some confidence.

No/No - For obligations that no longer serve me, I bail. For someday maybe projects, I write up some quick notes in my little system in Notion.

Yes/No - gather and prep materials, block out time, ask someone to do it with you or find a group if needed

Yes/Yes - gather and prep materials, if burning out, switch to minimum viable

No/Yes - figure out the barriers, automate, delegate, congregate, list next steps

Stuck Tasks - Too much to go into here but this video is helpful.

Sometimes I bounce around a bit - dealing with a Yes/Yes task will suddenly give me the guts to deal with a stuck task, getting out of a No/No obligation will make a No/Yes task look easier. So I don’t limit myself to this. But when I’m having trouble I go back to the list and just trust.

If I have avoided doing a No/Yes task for anywhere from several days to several weeks - it’s official a stuck task and I bounce it there while I work through other No/Yes tasks to deal with later.

Sometimes time pressures will dictate that things need to be handled before others - that’s fine. But usually a crunch will either show you that you will not in fact face a negative consequence after all or give you a motivation boost to carry you through some of the difficult tasks.

Step 4: Doing it again

So when do you do it again?

I do my brain dumps on Sundays and sort them into area of life lists so I can work on them by theme or focus but honestly whenever. When I was really in the throws of some bad mood shit I’d only do it every few weeks or so. Any amount of doing this generally had lead to a better life though.

What about stuff I’m not thinking a lot about?

That usually means either you’ve got such a good system for it that it’s running on autopilot so why mess with success, the possible reward is not appealing enough, or the possible consequences don’t freak you out enough.

This isn’t really a system I use for creating like...a good life by a neurotypical standard. It’s what I use to manage the stress, concern, and daydreams I’m having right now, to get things off of my plate and grow my confidence.

So will this mean everything gets managed? No. But it does mean the stuff most likely to keep you up at night does. Which is a huge fucking boon.

Conclusion

There’s some more intricacies in this too like moving No/No projects to Yes/No and No/Yes projects to Yes/Yes - it’s not the same strategies in my experience - but this is already running long.

Hope this helps someone else out too!

#studyblr #adhd #autism #planning #fuck goals

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burninlovebutler · 1 year

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Just an Intern // Part 4.1

pairing: austin x intern lol | word count: 4.7k-ish?

summary: the consequences of austin’s behavior catches up to him amidst battling the paranoia of an impending media shit storm. when a familiar stagehand nuance instigates a conflict, austin helps intern escape.

warnings/notes: usual angst, oral f receiving, jealousy, dom!intern / sub!austin ?? if you squint?, orgasm denial, protective!austin, physical altercation, 18+ mdni

notes: austin's POV was suggested / requested - i prefer/am better at writing in first person so, i really enjoyed doing this. writing from male character's perspective is something i love doing so - i apologize if it's not your forte. y/n is being addressed as Intern bc i want to make her an oc but am afraid of the commitment so lol i hope you give it a chance anyway ♡

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | see masterlist for all other fics ♡

vibes: just an intern playlist ⛓️

This girl is a gun, before you know it, it’s done

And you’ll be wishing that you crossed your fingers

- Girl is a Gun - Halsey -

-AUSTIN-

I closed Intern’s hotel room door behind me after our argument. I headed towards the front desk, scuffing my feet across the glossy wood floor, my hand gripping the handles of my duffle bag. The hallways of the lodge were always so vacant despite being overly booked. The silence only amplified the cycling thoughts in my head. I didn’t know what the fuck I was thinking – talking to her like that, talking about her like that. I didn’t know what comes over me when I was around her.

But I felt it that first day in the trailer, this insatiable feeling of hatred. Everything about her annoyed the fuck out of me, and yet all my body wants to do is get on my knees and bury my tongue in her pussy. I shook my head of the thought. That’s what I got for being on a social media detox. I thought of hopping on Hinge or whatever app just to find something to fuck. But decided against it – besides, we were stuffed like abominable snowmen in that fucking wooden cage. Another idea of finding one of the extras to hook up with lit up like a glass bulb in my head, but it quickly dimmed. Extras were too easy, and desperation seeped through their pores like dirty nicotine. There was no challenge, no fun. And so, it destined to be a long, lonely night.

Regardless of the confinement and inconvenience, this little unplanned vacation brought a much-needed gift – no service. At least very little and I didn’t bother paying for wi-fi. I needed a break from my managers, and the unforeseen weather anomaly gave me an excuse to ignore them completely. If I ignored the rumors that were festering like an open wound on Twitter or the looming tension of the next big scandal, maybe it would all go away.

I’d always been quite good at that – ignoring and avoiding anything that bothered me.

Thankfully the extra room was still available and once inside I swung my leather duffle bag onto a blue fabric-covered wingback chair. I let out a sigh and pressed myself against the wooden dresser that was identical to the one in the room I shared with Intern. I both felt and heard a loud hunger pain rumble in my stomach and that’s when I remembered that the last thing I had eaten was those fries from the night before. I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth and tapped my fingertips along the dresser assessing my options. The memory of the heaping bowl of fries – drenched in salt and grease – looped in my brain. Layered atop that memory came a sense of guilt, I couldn’t tell if it was about the meal or my actions in the lounge bar. Either way it evoked the same response.

Another loud hunger growl ripped through me and I rolled my eyes at the dramatics of my empty stomach. I pushed myself off the wooden furniture and went to the glass-door mini fridge. I tugged it open and steal a branded water, cracking it open and taking a sip. The cold water immediately soothed the length of my esophagus and pooled satisfaction in my belly.

-4 Days Later-

When the snow melted, it took the peace of my cellular detox with it. Being snowed in on a mountain top was no longer a suitable excuse for neglecting the incessant phone calls and Twitter news updates from my management team. For those couple days in that stupid little lodge, I was able to just fucking breathe for the first time in months.

Not surprisingly, word got to the higher ups about the fight with her, they even heard about the small fight with Landon. I was reprimanded three separate times because of the events. If it weren’t for my integral role in the film’s publicity I would’ve surely been dropped. My career was hanging by a thread as it was, I needed to get my shit together. If anything got leaked it would collapse the shit storm that my team was so precariously balancing for me.

The three of us, Landon, Intern and I were all temporarily separated to different areas on set for the past few days. They finally brought on another makeup artist; a flamboyant man named Nick. Nick took over my makeup in the time we were separated. While he seemed to be relatively the same skill level as Intern, he was placed under her, making her his direct manager. I suppose he was the new “Intern” now, but she’d always be that for me – whatever that meant.

I regretted everything with her. Everything. The good and the bad. I didn’t know why I was so awful to her, only that she infuriated me so much.

And yet, I found myself noticing her absence on my side of the set. I noticed the lack of fluttery annoyance she usually brought and the quippy banter we’d exchange. I even noticed the quiet that filled the days without our incessantly heated back-and-forth. I noticed everything about her being gone. Perhaps noticed wasn’t the right word.

Maybe I missed the noise.

That morning we had new girls on set for some bar scenes and they needed more intricate makeup so, Intern was back in my domain. There was some unsettling feeling that came with her proximity, a confusion perhaps.

There were three new extras for this scene, a girl-next-door brunette, a freckly redhead and a busty blonde. On any other day, the blonde would be wrapped around my finger but today she was about as enticing as a plain bagel. That didn’t mean stop her though.

The petite blonde sporting frayed jean shorts and a plain white v-neck eyed me, while she stood next to the other extras and Intern. Her sauntered over to where I was leaned on my bike only a few feet from them. I squinted the sun out of my eye to look up at her, “Can I help you?” I asked, sounding more bothered than welcoming.

“Sure ya can darlin’” Her pink filled lips curled to a flirtatious smirk with a poorly mimicked southern accent. “You can take me for a ride.”

I offered a small scoff, “Didn’t realize I looked like a ferris wheel.” The remark made her light brows scrunch in a confused way, like when a mall-santa claus is rude. I felt a pair of eyes on me instantly, but when I followed the feeling I was disappointed by the origin. Tom. He shot a warning glare reminding me that I needed to behave to prevent further repercussions. It annoyed me but it was a necessary reminder and I quickly turned on my press charm. I gave her a forced smile, “Sorry, I’ve just had a hard morning.” At least I was honest.

“It’s okay I forgive ya, my name’s Chloe.” The edges of her glossy lips turned upwards and stepped a foot at each side of my crossed ones. “Maybe I could make your day better.” Her suggestive voice quiet but not quite enough. My gaze wandered to Intern who’s face visibly twisted at the overheard remark but focusing on adding eyeshadow to the redhead’s eyes.

“Hey,” Snapped the blonde extra snapping fingers in front of my face bring my attention back to her, “I just gave you a pretty good offer and you can’t even look at me?”

Annoyance bubbled in me that I had swallow down.

Bitch I wouldn’t touch you with a 10-foot pole

-Is what I wanted to say but instead, “Sorry like I said, I had a shit morning.”

“Incredible, “ She sneered and propped her hands on her hips, “You’re exactly the monster the media portrays you to be.”

The last thing I needed was this dumb blonde who had only known me all of 5 seconds to be setting me off at 7 in the fucking morning. My jaw clenched holding back what I wanted to say but I knew my transparent poker face was giving away just how pissed I was getting. “Listen bi-“ I caught myself, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. “Chloe, you don’t know me at all, and I don’t think you should make assumptions of someone you barely know.” Attempting my best at keeping my temper tame.

An infuriatingly taunting cackle slipped her lips, “You know I didn’t believe the accusations, but I bet you really did everything that Madi-”

I shot up so fast I nearly knocked over my bike, “You don’t get to come on my set and talk to me like that, about shit you have no fucking idea about.” The hiss came out more apprehensive than I would’ve liked. I didn’t dare look over at Intern, I just prayed she wasn’t paying attention. I knew what she thought of me, she could think whatever she wanted. But her hearing any of the latest rumors swirling about me, would somehow be worse than anything I could’ve done to her.

She laughed at the fear in my tone, “Your set? You’re lucky you even landed this role with everything-“

“Who the fuck are you? You’re far too cocky for an extra, know your fucking place.” I growled, shoving past her and headed into the saloon set where we’d be filming.

I curled fingers so tightly into my palms as I heard steps following me, a vein pulsed in my forehead ready to burst open. I quickly pivoted back around, “What the fuck do y-” But instead of Chloe I found Intern, “Oh, hi.” My tone much softer, “What do you, um, what do you want?”

“I need to do your makeup.” She stated firmly while keeping her eyes focused on my chest, not looking at me.

“Right.” I nodded and followed her when she turned and walked towards her tented makeup station. I pulled myself onto the wood and fabric chair as she mixed up some foundation onto a metal palette. Then, she took a smooth flat brush and began painting the product down my face.

“So,” I hesitated as an awkward fog suspended in the air, “How’ve you been?”

She clenched her jaw and stayed silent.

“Isn’t it a little ridiculous that they separated us on set over a little rumor-”

“I see you found a new victim.” She sliced flatly, still not looking at me.

“Chloe?” I scoffed and her eyes snapped at me with a I’m-not-stupid glare. I sighed, I knew she wasn’t buying it, “Chloe? Are you kidding me?” I asked, then remembered how we got here in the first place.

She just raised her eyebrows in a ‘that’s not totally unbelievable’ kind of way.

I looked up at the tent as she patted makeup below my eyes with a small round brush. “If you think my taste is so low that I’d touch Chloe – you must not think very highly of yourself.”

She pressed her lips together before speaking again, “I just didn’t think you had standards, that’s all.” Her tone was light & bubbly, but the intention clearly wasn’t.

Anger began to pipe hot steam into my chest for the second time that early morning. I swore she tried to provoke me on purpose. My hands curled around the thick wooden arm rests and my nails dug into the grain. “And to think I almost missed you.” Her now powdered swiping motions halted as soon as she processed my words, her hand just barely trembling and her eyes locked on the area she was working. I couldn’t tell if I was mortified or glad that the words had left my mouth. Either way, it felt freeing, like I had finally told some secret I’d been hiding.

She continued finishing the work on my face in silence and stepped back. She set the black barreled brush down and kept her eyes low as she went to speak. “You’re done. Get out of my chair.”

I never thought pretending to seduce a pretty girl on screen would be as difficult as it was in my scene with Chloe. Regardless I felt Intern’s glare on me the entire time. My ego wanted to think it was jealousy but after what I pulled at the ski lodge and just before in the makeup chair, I knew it definitely wasn’t jealousy. Why the fuck would she be jealous after everything I’d done. Regardless, her stare burned like hot coals into my skin.

Directors cut for a 30 and I snatched a water bottle dodging every cast or crew member to find my bike. In the months of filming the vehicle had become some sort of comfort for me. Maybe it was me tapping into my character or the fact that it was the only thing that was constant, the only thing I could control.

I propped myself against the Harley unscrewing the cap of the bottle with a crack and taking a much-needed gulp. Before I could escape, Intern was making a b-line for me and I braced myself for whatever acid she was about to spew at me. But she walked past me, knocking my shoulder back and in a curt, but stern, tone, “I need to put something on your face.” Heading towards a trailer.

I let out a sigh, knowing whatever she was going to say would be even worse than I could imagine. I deserved it of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. I followed her to the trailer, pausing before the metallic door and taking a deep inhale before tugging it open. “We have no fight scenes Intern,” I exhaled clicking the door in place behind me, “What could you possibly need to put on my face?”

She straightened up, crossed her arms and puffed her chest out a bit appearing more intimidating, though there wasn’t much threatening about her. “Me.” She stated seriously, though her attempt at being menacing was almost comical.

“What?” I slightly stuttered not fully processing her words.

She shifted from one foot to the other before regaining her anger-fueled confidence. “I want to be on your face, I want to cash in my apology.” She blurted out quickly.

“I mean- I’m not saying no but just…why?” I questioned; I didn’t expect her to ever cash it in, nonetheless so soon.

“You and Chloe are fucking annoying and I just-“ Her was flustered, a light pink tinging her cheeks. Her fist balled at her side. “I don’t know, I just want my apology.” Her tone laced with false conviction. “I want my apology.”

“Okay…” I stated timidly, eyeing her wearily, “Are you sure?”

“Shut the fuck up and eat me out.” She sniped back, catching me off guard.

“Well I-“ Instinctively going to argue then realizing I had absolutely no problem with her request so, I shrugged, “Okay.” I looked her over, taking her in fully. I was trying to strategize how I was going to fulfil her request. She wore one of her flowy dresses, the ones that drive me insane – this one was powder blue with little white flowers. The dress hugged every part of her I enjoyed the most – it was tight around her waist and ruched around her full chest. The rest flowed down around her hips and thighs. I said a silent thank you to the universe for making it a warmer day. My gaze must’ve lingered on her too long because she took matters into her own hands.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” She groaned impatiently, taking my face in her hands and practically smashing our lips together.

I let the inherent magnetism between us take over and took her face in my hands connecting our lips. She froze beneath my touch but quickly gave in, reciprocating the passionate kiss. Having her lips on mine again felt like a sip of cold water after a long drought – like an addict getting their first fix after sobriety. Her hands tangled into my perfectly styled hair for whatever scene I was meant to do next. Her tongue asked for entrance and I met hers voraciously. My hands trailed down to her sides and shoved her into the nearest wall. “Fuck.” I breathed out with my forehead pressed against hers. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes fluttered up at me with flushed cheeks. “Make me believe it.”

My fingertips were on fire every place they met her skin, and I could’ve sworn I had become a vampire from how every part of me was screaming to sink my teeth into her neck. But the sugar high I was getting from her lips won the battle. Pulling away for a fleeting second, “I’m sorry.” I said against her lips.

Almost completely in sync, she wrapped her arms around my neck as I picked her up effortlessly pulling her legs around my hips. I carried her over to one of the empty makeup vanities and sat her on the edge – all while our lips were still locked with our tongues dancing in time. I drew away again, cupping her cheeks in my rugged hands, gazing down at her lust-dazed eyes, “I’m sorry.”

There was a glimmer in her eyes that made me think maybe she believed that one. “Beg for it.” She demanded.

My hands squeezed her thighs all the way up to her hips, pulling her dress up with it. I swiftly grasped her hips and drew her to the very edge of the table. I began peppering kisses down her neck, she tilted her head to the side for more access. “I’m sorry.” I mumbled against the skin below her ear and she let out a small whine.

“Keep going.” She breathed out, her body melting and reacting to my touch.

I pulled her skin into a suck, just soft enough to not leave a mark, “I’m sorry.”

“More.”

“I’m sorry.” Working my way down till I reached her collar bones. My hands trailed up her sides, lingering on the curves I liked most before they molded around her breasts. She let out another small moan as my thumbs traced over her peaked nipples through the sheer dress.

Her breath hitched as my lips savored every inch of her skin down her chest, “More.”

I kneeled in front of her, her legs easily parted for me and already had a damp spot on her baby pink panties. I trailed soft, but hungry, kisses up her thigh, accompanying each one with an apology. I hooked my index fingers at the waist band and slowly pulled down her panties down her legs, tossing them only a few feet from us.

“I’m sorry.” I mumbled against her lips and I could feel her writhing beneath my mouth. I drew my tongue slowly up her folds, tasting the juices I thought I’d never taste again. I let out a grown from her flavor and it gained a hand tangled in my hair, rougher than normal.

I swirled my tongue over her clit and she let out a surprised moan. “Fuck, Austin.” She struggled to get out. Her response only fueled my work on her. My tongue swirled around her swollen nub and my hand traveled up her thigh. I teased her at her entrance with my middle and ring finger before slowly sliding them in. She let out a slow whine as they slid inside her and began pumping into her sweet spot. In a rhythmic manner, my fingers and tongue danced where she needed me.

“You taste so fucking good.” I hummed against her heat as her juices filled my mouth and ran down my fingers. She tasted sweet, sweet like honey and I ate her like I had an insatiable sweet tooth.

My work on her distracted me from how hard I was, painfully restrained in my jeans. My free hand went to unzip them to fuck myself while I devoured her, but she tugged at my hair. “No.” She growled. “This an apology is to me, and you don’t deserve to feel good.”

This was new for me. I’d never had a woman talk like to me during sex before. But there was something so fucking sexy about it and it only made my cock throb more for her.

It seemed her little shift into dominance turned her on just as much as it did me, her moans increasing in volume and her hand gripping my hair-spray drenched hair. I knew she was close with the way her walls clenched around my fingers and her legs trembled around my head. I gazed up at her as she began coming undone – I always thought women were their most beautiful in the throughs of their orgasm, but this was different. The way she glowed in her climax made me want to keep making her look like that. She was angelic and her moans were harmonies – the sort of songs you just want to replay over and over, practically getting high off of them.

Sometimes I would get this twist in my stomach when I’m in business meetings where I know the executives are swindling me, or when I’m in interviews and I can tell they’re going to butcher my words for a scandal. In college I’d get it when I was at parties that would get raided or in high school when intimidating seniors would corner me. That looming churn bloomed in my stomach whenever I was in danger – and I could feel it when I looked at her just then.

Once she was finally spent, I hesitantly pulled myself up from the floor and wiped the excess juices from my mouth. I watched her, disheveled with her chest heaving, still coming down from the high. “So, am I forgiven?”

Her hooded eyes weakly reached mine. I expected there to be more light in them than before, I expected them to be softer and less angry. She pulled herself off the table and smoothed out her dress before looking me dead in the eyes, “No. Not even close.” She took a step closer to me. “But it’s definitely a start.” She spoke with a tone that felt like I was just the gum under her shoe.

She glared at me as if she was disgusted with how I made her feel and tugging the hefty trailer door open and disappearing behind it. It was only then that I realized how utterly foolish it was to think that eating her cunt would erase all the damage I’d done.

I recognized that warning sign in my stomach when I looked at her.

She was a warning I needed to head.

-3 Days Later-

We were stationed along a long dirt road getting various riding and chase scenes. Bikes lined the side of the sandy road having to cut scenes constantly due to the still wet mud from last night’s unprecedented rain gunking up our tires and covering the ever-important sponsored logos on the bikes. The excessive wind whipping sand against us was also causing interruptions as Intern had to keep cleaning us up and reapplying. Between the shitty weather, the constant interruptions, and our fucking directors still hounding my ass harder since the ski lodge debacles, the day was not going well, and my patience was wearing thin.

I stood just beside my bike, trying to just breathe through the aggravation from the last cut as Intern used a brush to flick off the sand that had built up on my face. She used her pinky to dust off some extra then returned to the brush. Even though the brush was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt, it still mimicked steel wool compared to her touch. Out of everything that happened between us, and out of every memory that would make itself known to me, her touch was the one that lingered the longest. Sure, I thought about that night in the hotel where my cock was buried inside her as she rode me, or when I chained her to the trailer door… I thought about them a lot. But the ones that flickered constantly in my brain like flashing clicks of paparazzi cameras, was us in the hot tub or on the floor of that disgusting restaurant we broke into. My body seemed to remember her warmth on me when she was clinging onto me in the tub or when she held my face as I kissed her on the floor.

I’d never had memories or fantasies rile me up just as much as sexual ones. But my hands burned at the thought of touching her again, they ached just to be on her. I felt it when she was near me, when she touched me. It was magnetic. My cock craved her, of course, but my hands did too – it was something so foreign to me. And I fucking hated it.

It couldn’t happen again. I couldn’t let this happen again. Especially not after the warning siren that blared in the pit of my stomach every time she looked at me. One bitch was already on track to nearly ruin my career, I didn’t need another one. And from our track record, Intern wasn’t looking like the safest option anyway – already causing me fuck up in front of our cast and crew.

She was a warning I needed to head

I just needed to make it through the holidays and the rest of shooting, and I’d be done. I could forget all about her.

I kept my eyes on the floating clouds above us, just letting my thoughts flow in my head when I heard my bike engine rev and felt a splash of thick mud coat the side of my body. The sharp squeal from Intern told me she’d been hit too. “What the fuck!” Looking over at a stagehand, Ryan, the same one from the truth or dare debacle, being the only evidence of a culprit with hands on the vehicle.

He let out a cocky laugh, “Sorry man, was just tryin’ to clean up the bike.”

“You ruined my brushes!” Exclaimed Intern as she looked over the leather brush roll that thankfully covered all the products inside the cosmetic case. While the products inside were safe, her entire arsenal of tools were covered in mud.

This was the tipping point of the day, everything that had pissed me off culminated into the rage that coursed through me. The fact that it was Ryan and that I was now coated in mud, but most of all it was the mud on Intern’s brushes. I made it into Ryan’s face faster than I thought and grabbed him by his shirt. The threats from the directors and management were now faint memories as I held his shirt wrapped around my wrist. “What the fuck were you thinking.” I growled in his face.

“Austin! Let him go!” Shouted one of the crew members but I was too blinded with anger to decipher who.

“Who fucking told you you could touch my bike?” My fist tightening around the dark material.

Yet Ryan looked unbothered, “Sorry man, was just tryna clean it up.” He repeated though his voice was laced in competitive snide.

“Austin!” An even more aggressive shout, “Take a thirty!”

“I can’t work on anything more!” Perked up Intern shouting across set, her forced innocent voice didn’t fool me, she was livid. “My brushes are fu- ruined!”

“Fine. All three of you, call it a day. Go home.” Followed by a ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ muttered beneath the director’s tone.

I released Ryan’s shirt and shoved him back, “Fine, I’m fucking out of here.” Rounding the bike, throwing my leg over it and kicking off the stand.

Before I even moved, I glanced over at Intern looking absolutely defeated and furious, picking through her now destroyed tools.

“You comin’?” I asked over the engine rumbling, and she snapped her head up. Her frustrated watery eyes swirled with conflict; I knew she didn’t want to come with me, but I could get her out of there. She looked around weighing her options and ultimately her anger won. Her gaze landed on Nick, who gave her a little nod saying ‘I got this, go ahead’.

She quickly paced over to me, “Get me the fuck out of here.” She snapped in a whisper, and swung her leg over behind me, wrapping both arms around my torso.

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If you'd like to be tagged in Part 4.2 + further parts, please comment 🩶

thank you all SO much for all the love and support on this story, it has truly been overwhelming. i know my numbers aren't as big as others but they're big to me - appreciate EVERY comment, message, ask, etc. even if i’m not the best at replying 😭 i love you guys so much - i never expected this fic to get that much attention so again, thank you xx

if you enjoyed this story/my writing pls consider giving my main fic, Forever Winter, a read - if you like angsty sad smutty you’ll probably like it lol

also pls consider giving this a like, comment or reblog ♡

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drdemonprince · 3 months

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Something I think you're missing in how you talk about trans men: how recently you transitioned.

I came out circa 2007, and there was almost no information about us, no community where I lived (the local support group was all older trans women), no media outside of "Boys Don't Cry" and the way-better-but-still-basic "Parrotfish," no anything at all except TERF lesbian communities that coveted and hated us in equal measure, and general GSAs that were sweet, but dominated by cis people. I learned that the worst thing in the world I could be was a trans man - to be a trans man was to be a regressive agent of the patriarchy, and if I couldn't force myself to be nonbinary or a cis woman, I was evil.

In the early 2010s I attended a conference where a trans woman, a national celebrity I looked up to, made a joke about how useless trans men are during her keynote speech. I walked out of that room crying because as far as I knew, she was right - I was almost an elder by the standards of an atomized community where we were expected to die young, and even I couldn't name a single trans man in history who'd mattered.

We take it for granted now that trans men like Lou Sullivan made a difference, but to bring attention to him, folks like me had to swim upstream against a wave of accusations of misogyny from TERFs, and sometimes even from trans women. The acceptance you rejoice in at bathhouses? That was hard won through outreach by trans men. I even remember a specific trans male-run ambassador program in San Francisco circa 2013 dedicated to integrating trans men into the queer male community.

The world that's welcomed you was built by trans men who, like me, felt agonizingly alone and unwanted in both cis and trans communities. You paint a picture of lazy hangers-on who don't understand how good they have it, and maybe that's true for the folks you're looking at, but they don't reflect the hard work trans men have been putting in at every level of organizing for much longer than our efforts have been recognized. I've been involved in the fight for our liberation since I was a teenager, working on school and state-level policy change, medical access, the preservation of history, mentorship, dodging evictions, and all the little jobs my tired, autistic ass can take on, and I've never been rewarded for it outside the thanks of the people I've helped. All I ever wanted was to make things better for the generations that came after me.

I'd just like to have that reality acknowledged - that those of us who came before you built what you're now able to enjoy, and we can use that history to empower and encourage younger generations to continue doing the work instead of implying that no one's been doing it at all.

Thank you for this message. I would like to read a lot more about your perspective on this history. Please let me know your @ -- in private if you prefer. There are some elements of how this is framed here that do make me go, hm (the view was the worst thing you could be was a trans man?) but I am also appreciative of this this glimpse at what I don't know I don't know, and am interested to learn more about it.

But I also want to push back against the idea that I have no knowledge of how things were during the times you're talking about -- I was a queer, gender-questioning adult at that time too, and I was active in many trans spaces.

My medical transition is very recent in the grand scheme of things but I've been rolling deep with trans guys and going to trans masc events since 2003-2004 (in Cleveland and Columbus). I remember how the not-full-blown TERFY yet still very toxic radfems spoke about men, sexually preyed upon trans guys in some cases, and sometimes said things critical of transition. I knew several trans guys who had quite a guilt complex about becoming a "man" because they had internalized that men were inherently predatory and evil. Personally, I'd always thought that line of thinking was absurd and a very poor excuse for feminism, so it didn't get under my skin in the same way. Instead of making me not want to be a man, it made me not want to be a feminist. Which is pretty typical sexist bro shit to do really. Again, no big evidence of transmisandry here. certainly experiences that were emotionally very fraught and challenging for people, but not misandry or transmisandry.

These queer and feminist groups that I moved within were VASTLY more exclusionary to the trans femmes in the city, who were not even permitted to attend events for sexual assault survivors in the Columbus scene. I DID see trans women on the social periphery of these groups be discouraged from transitioning, and I did hear just about every vile transmisogynistic slur and exclusionary idea you can think of be passed around by many without challenge.

The transmisogyny stood out to me even back then as particularly egregious and rampant -- it disgusted me and caused me to distance myself from those groups of people in 2007-8. It was the outspoken hatred of anyone with an "amab" body and frothing transmisogyny that made me not want to be associated with that crowd or to contemplate transition, honestly -- not any kind of widespread anti-transmasc sentiment. These groups held top surgery fundraisers and hormone start date celebrates for trans guys and expressed desire for trans men openly and included them warmly in just about everything while treating trans women like predators and telling them they should just be feminine men (far, far away from them).

So my experience just does not track with what you are saying. I imagine we have two very different vantage points on similar periods of time, and I think there certainly is a lot more about trans masc history I could stand to learn and so many trans masc elders' whose names I should be putting more respect on. And I'd be very open to hearing more about that from you. But I do have to push back against the characterization of the era as someone who very much was there.

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 months

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New World (6)

Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff

Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.

Warnings: old men and their rituals

Word Count: @justiceiswater your comment is the reason I got myself to write this chapter quickly.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

When one thinks about a Bamboo Village, one imagines bamboo being a part of every household in that village. But what we are looking at, or rather, walking through- does not do justice to the name. The entrance of the village is the endless lush bamboo trees with the freshest tone of green; grown up as if to infinity, but never preventing the sunrays from bouncing through the sturdy mesh throughout this little forest. The filtered sun rays are welcomed by your sun-starved skin, bringing a much-needed calmness to your mind as your lips curve into a smile and your eyes close to face the direction of the filtering sun.

Itachi is watching the worry wash away from your face slowly but surely. That little guarded emotion in his chest seems to have eased up a little on seeing you smile at the scenic entrance and the warming sun. And in place of that guarded emotion, another hue of something heavier- but positive- seems to take place. His mind is curious as to what is this new feeling in his chest. But his eyes are stuck on you. Those dark pupils are somewhat lighter in today's sun.

"Welcome to the Bamboo Village! Our humble home," the Chief announces from above his ride and Naruto is the first one to gasp in bewilderment. Where the bamboos end starts an entire village at the edge of a hill made structures entirely out of bamboos- bridges, houses, furniture, you name it. And at the top of the hill sits a lone structure etched in stone- a temple.

The village is lively with the happy cries of children and surprisingly melodious calls of merchants and hawkers in the marketplace. "There's the hot springs!" Naruto points to the farther edge of the village where the caravan can see steam rising by the end of the hill crafted into smoother edges. Before Naruto can break into a dash for it, Kakashi grabs him by the collar. Chief chuckles at the agitated yellow-haired ninja. "You can soak in the hot springs all want. But before that, I would like you to meet our village elders. At the temple. Come. They have been around for about hundred years now-" he continues to talk while directing his ox towards the road that leads to the temple, and the rest follow- "so it is safe to say there is no one wiser than them in our homeland. And they will be able to explain our problem better than us. And then hopefully, Kakashi, you will be able to help us." Kakashi smiles under his mask. "As long as my comrades are safe, we are willing to help in any way we can." He does not look behind him but he- along with the rest of the members- can sense the heat of guilt rising in Fukaboshi and Izo's cheeks. Itachi can make out that they do not want to be here but they cannot say no to the chief's orders after the massive blow he has given to their egos. It does make our village's assassin happy internally.

The road finally ends up to a huge staircase, where the animals are left and the caravan climbs on foot, leading to a courtyard which overlooks the mountains and hills surrounding them and a clean breath of air gently plays around the temple in the centre of it all. Everyone stands at the steps of the temple door. The Chief takes a step to the door to bow in respect, a signal for the two elders chanting hymns inside the temple to get up and be greeted by the guests waiting outside. Fukaboshi and Izo are standing at either end of the group while Kakashi is humble enough to wait at the back and let the young ones be the first to receive the blessings. But that does to stop the Konoha's silver blade from having his eyes and ears out for any movement out of the ordinary. Even though Kozuki seems to have joined him at the back with a suppressed smile that does not seem suspicious at all. Itachi, on the other hand, seems to have an itch because suddenly, you are standing in the very front with Toge taking the place next to you. Naruto standing on your other side and Nami is standing behind Toge, trying to get a good look at the two bowls being picked up by the temple monks with purple and golden beads in one hand. "Wait-" Nami sounds confused- "Kakashi that is a-" "Do not speak unless you are spoken to," Toge tuts from the front, cutting out whatever it is that Nami is about to speak. "But-" Izo shushes Nami, for which the latter takes full offence. One monk takes the string of purple beads in one hand and the other takes a string of golden ones. Both of them start to sing a deep-throated hymn as they step down the stairs. Itachi furrows his brows at the shade of fear setting in Nami's eyes. The monks have stepped down and are now standing in front of the group. The elder of the two dips his fingers in the copper bowl in his hand and takes them out to sprinkle it over you and Toge. "What's wrong?" Itachi whispers, leaning towards Nami. And suddenly as if a thought strikes her as his voice collides with her thoughts, she grabs the back of Toge's jacket and pulls him back, while at the same time using her other free hand to push Itachi forward in Toge's position instead. "WHAT THE-" Toge is hushed by the second monk. While he is trying to make sense of what just happened, the monk takes your left hand and ties the string of purple beads on your wrist. Next, he takes Itachi's right hand and ties the golden beads on his wrist. The bowl is used again to sprinkle the contents on both of you, with the hymn still going. "Can I have one too?" Naruto whispers in the direction of the monks, grinning with all of his teeth.

Kakashi can see from the back the flustered and confused expression of the chief, who seems to want to stop the monks but isn't allowed to do so for fear of stopping something sacred. Unlike him, Fukaboshi and Izo are facepalming themselves discreetly before the former- who is also standing closer to Toge- whispers through his teeth, "You had one job." The elder monk takes the string-wrapped wrists of both of you and puts your hand in Itachi's, chanting something known only to the elders. You stand there with no thoughts behind your eyes, only following what the monks do. Itachi is trying to calculate the base of this ritual. The second monk dips his finger in his bowl and out comes the index painted red, which lands on your palm to draw one single symbol. And with that, the chanting comes to an end.

Toge is breathing furiously, his face red with anger as he glares at Nami with the intent of murder. You curiously look into your palm to make sense of the symbol. The monks bow to the chief and the caravan. "Shinzo-san, these are our guests!" the Chief explains, exasperated. Suddenly a chuckle bursts out of Kozuki that slowly turns into a cackle. Kakashi tilts his head in confusion. "Did we do something wrong?" You and Itachi look at each other with a blank gaze, neither of moving your hands away. A single crow continuously croaks at the edge of the temple roof, as if he too is laughing at something. "What's so funny, Kozuki?" Naruto shouts, "And why won't the monk-sama give me these beads?" he tries to grab one in the second monk's belt. His hand is thwapped away with a smack on his wrist at the speed of lightning, the elder never breaking from that peaceful glow on his face. "Izo!" the chief shouts in anger, "is this your doing as well??!" The old man seems to be at his wit's end. Kozuki is clapping and laughing like a seal by now until her stomach hurts and she moves in front of the group to finally look at your disoriented figure waiting for answers. "Congratulations!" She exclaims with pure joy, her voice reverberating through the temple, "Uchiha Itachi and Y/L/N Y/N, by the powers vested in these old monks by our Gods, you are now officially married!!"

#itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi x y/n #itachi fluff #itachi smut #itachi uchiha fanfic #itachi fic #new world #maladaptive ninja returns

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sparklepirate · 11 months

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Alright, final thoughts on Brisingr.

You know what half the book was dwarven politics but I ate that shit up.

The more I read these again the more I appreciate the nuance of Eragon's character. It's super rare for me to like a main protagonist as much as I like him, but he has so many things going on. He's heroic, but in a deeply existentialist way, which leads him to be a bit cruel/callous towards his brother. He is smart and a quick learner, both academically and on his feet, but he does and thinks some of the stupidest things sometimes. He was forced to grow up so fast, so while he often comes across as mature and self-assured, internally he is still just a kid, or perhaps a very, very young man, and that kid part of him still shines through sometimes. He does and will do what he has to do to help the world, but he is constantly surprised to find new avenues of guilt when confronted with various consequences of his actions, but he still presses on. He is still learning his place in life not only as a dragon rider and a hero, but just as a person in general, and I think that's so cool and interesting to read! And he's also dealing with the trauma of the everything that's happening to him, but doesn't quite yet seem to realize that he isn't alone in his feelings. He is a dork, and I love him, and I want to be his friend, and I want him to accrue a whole squad of older sibling figures to help him through his stuff.

Along the lines of trauma, I hope he and Roran get to talk about this stuff. They both have moments of berating themselves over being weak for having strong feelings about killing and participating in a war, and I wish they would talk to each other and realize they were not alone. ... Murtagh too but that's just wishful thinking. I'll just have to write that myself I suppose.

Saphira is also so good queen of my heart and my soul she is beauty she is grace if she were a human she would rip apart a rat with her bare hands and teeth and do a kegstand immediately afterwards with the blood still dripping down her face but her makeup would be FLAWLESS while she did it ❤️

This felt like the first book that really drove the point home of how close the two of them are, because this is the first time they had to be truly separated from each other. Every time they reunited and they were just so filled with joy and love I just 🥺

As always- Murtagh deserves better!!! He and Thorn!!! He is in this position because he was too compassionate for Eragon (being led to the Varden), and then Thorn (swearing fealty to save him), and no one really cares about him but he still hopes and he still loves!!! Obviously, like, being on opposite sides of the conflict no one is going to not try to kill him, they kind of don't have a choice, but... Damn. I won't say too much more about him until after Inheritance but like. Damn. Justice for my husband.

On that note, the absolute betrayal he must have felt upon finding out that Oromis and Glaedr existed. Granted, by him becoming a dragon rider it was already too late for them to help him, but still. It's just kind of a tragic circumstance that everyone was so powerless in this situation, and like... Being literally possessed by Galbatorix for a bit there was. Hmm. Bad. I'm sure we'll be dissecting THAT in the new book.

It makes me wonder how much of this situation could have been prevented if the elves and the dwarves weren't so consistently self-serving. I think that's what makes Nasuada such an effective leader in comparison to them. She will get shit done, and she will set aside pride whenever she needs to to achieve the best results. Now, she has her flaws, which I know are explored more in Inheritance, but I can understand her constant frustration with the other kingdoms refusal to help or share important secrets that could have helped them sooner/prevented bloodshed.

And as far as secrets go... I don't know. It's hard to gauge "should have" or "shouldn't have" with most of the things Oromis and Glaedr neglected to tell Eragon and Saphira (or anyone), but the eldunarí feels like the most cut and dry. I guess they weren't anticipating Thron hatching but like. If that's the source of Galbatorix's power... It might have been useful for literally anyone to know about that before now. Arya didn't even know, for god's sake.

Speaking of Arya, I like her way way more this read through!!! And I do not ship her and Eragon literally at all sorry I'm a hater ❤️

RIP Oromis though sucks that you died.

Onto Inheritance!

#ashna reads the inheritance cycle #brisingr #inheritance cycle #eragon #murtagh morzansson #saphira

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mutable-manifestation · 8 months

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"So he pasted on a stoic expression and gave a simple "No.""

Here's where we differentiated because I shifted to Damian's POV and kinda forced the matter. So we could Get Damian's perspective on Danny's cover." After that was the stuff I couldn't figure out because of this spot right here! Danny's answer had to be "no" the misunderstanding doesn't sink as well if it doesn't.

The memory of tests, the pre-established no-codewords *chef's kiss* because it is always going to be safer for Danny to make contact in some other way. With invisibility and intangiblity even more so.

Closing the box cutter like that, perfect. Danny knows better than to attempt to rival Damian, especially when he's under the assumption that Damian is still acting heir. Oof I can't think of any reason getting called back wouldn't spell trouble.

I love the slight implication with the evil billionaires list and tuckers unspoken question, to me it reads like Lex has also tried to clone Phantom. Which I don't think was intended but, it tracks! He totally would!

Tim's questions, Danny looking to Damian for orders. Yes. Just yes, perfection, right there in front of my face but the question didn't even occur to me. Wonderful.

Everything that follows, YOUR TAGS they look like my notes we were on the same wavelength I swear!

Do you have plans to keep going with this? Can we collab if you do?

See I couldn't bring myself to use the Damian POV because in my mind his internal dialogue would just be. Static.

Like, yes, he's a highly trained assassin. And idk too much about batman timeline but I've seen stuff about how he's had character growth and gotten better about things over time. If he came to them at 10 and he's 16 now, that's 6 years for his personal growth. Learning to care about people again.

But outside of missions the batfam are all hot garbage and personal interaction, and I imagine Damian's had enough growth by this point to get to the "people matter to me as more than murder tools/mission tolls" idea, but without any of the understanding of how to deal without a given context.

And with Danny, the context has always been "avoid/ignore."

Danny isn't a classmate. He isn't one of his adopted brothers that he has learned how to squabble/get along with over time. And, most of all, whatever Danny might believe, he is not a League member. Which leaves Damian with no framework for how to deal with him.

Damian had/has a hard enough time getting over his League training, how does he help Danny get over his? Especially when 10 years of it would have been training he did to himself.

How does he interact with someone he was raised to hold at arms-length^2?

So I figured doing his POV would be too difficult because I couldn't think of much beyond static, panicked rambling, and several mock-conversations on how to break it to Danny that the League is gone without him going off on a suicide mission against the coup-people.

Which is kind of a shame, because you could fit a lot of angst in ala grief for Danny's seemingly emotionless state and guilt for forgetting him (which, not Damian's fault the League just sucks, but people don't stop blaming themselves for things just because they know they don't need to. Emotions be cray).

"Oof I can't think of any reason getting called back wouldn't spell trouble"

idk why but this made me think of an AU version where Damian intercepted the letter but the League actually was calling Danny back at the time (no coup), so they try to find him in Nanda Parbat only to find the (fake) dead body to the resulting tune of: Batfam Grief Rampage Time (TM). Except the League called him back because they found out what he was leaving out of his reports (about the portal & tech, not about him being a halfa) so when the batfam go to Amity to talk to the Fenton's about their "dead" son Amity is walled off w/an anti-liminal shield & armed to the teeth waiting for assassins (bc u know the whole town is in danger of being conscripted after bathing in portal radiation for so long. Call that "League of Assassins Park" at that point - sans the whole cult aspect. Unless u count the Phantom Phans).

"I love the slight implication with the evil billionaires list and tuckers unspoken question, to me it reads like Lex has also tried to clone Phantom. Which I don't think was intended but, it tracks! He totally would!"

You know that really wasn't the implication I was going for, but I could totally see Lex trying to clone Phantom. Maybe he heard about the whole overshadowing thing and was like "yo loyal clone to control the actual superman is way better than a second superman that could (did) go rogue! And this one can even be a (former) human!!!"

"Tim's questions, Danny looking to Damian for orders. Yes. Just yes, perfection, right there in front of my face but the question didn't even occur to me. Wonderful."

Am basking in the positive feedback like a lizard in the sun thanks ☀️🦎🥰

"Do you have plans to keep going with this? Can we collab if you do?"

I thought about making a follow-up, but the stuff others tagged on kinda satisfied the brain itch for me.

But! I could totally see this turning into a fully fleshed-out fic, and I think I'd enjoy writing for it, so if you want to make it happen I'd be happy to collab :)

#dpxdc

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wraithsoutlaws · 8 months

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its a weird and silly thing but for a while i felt very self-conscious playing male characters in games, i always *wanted* to but i somehow would convince myself that im supposed to play female characters (as an afab person) because! what would people think if they saw me always playing dudes!!! surely they would see something in myself that at the time i was afraid to confront. and i never felt attached to those female characters (whether an rpg or not), it was always a soulless decision and it never felt like what was right for me. i even went through a time where i would guilt myself because obviously this means im an internalized misogynist and now i have to overcompensate for that.

even when I first started cyberpunk i forced myself to run my first playthrough with a fem v even though I didn't want to and its just recently where I've been able to unashamedly allow myself to indulge in little things like making a male character instead and its not much but it feels so much better and so much more authentic even though i don't exclusively identify as he/him

idk I was just thinking about this because I didn't have to think about it even for a second when I started up starfield or palia a few weeks ago, like whatever else genderfuckery I feel at least I'm not forcing myself into a fem box anymore

#just thinkin thoughts re: gender

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aspd-culture · 10 months

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is guilt-based anxiety (example: scared of being a burden), depression (example: feeling guilty for being alive, for being a burden and all that low self-esteem nonsense) and guilt/moral-based ocd (example: feeling like youre an abuser or committed a heinous crime that you didnt commit, like S/A-OCD or P-OCD), or themes of guilt in schz (example: delusions where you think youre guilty of having done something you havent, like murder for instance, or hallucinations of voices who encourage the themes stated in the example i gave for depression) or ptsd/trauma (example: for experiencing trauma) etc. possible in aspd? and/or how would these things present in someone with aspd (as opposed to someone without aspd? people w/o ASPD (generally) feel a lot of (genuine) guilt and remorse and i experience... walmart-brand guilt. i feel anxious and "guilty" but only because of 1. whatever remnants of christian doctrination is in my brain 2. my phobias 3. my need for control, or 4. a byproduct of my mental illnesses. (probably a learned thought process for me - its not really natural for me, not really out of care for others (unless you count ocd), and the thought pattern is what ive been told throughout my life/otherwise originated from others)

All of that is very possible and actually very relevant to my experience as a pwASPD, as well as OCD, PTSD, and religious trauma. Hopefully that means I can give you a relatively in-depth explanation of what this feels like for me firsthand.

So all of these types of Great Value guilt are moreso examples of shame. Religious trauma causes shame, guilt OCD is generally a misnomer for shame, and shame is a *major* symptom of clinical depression and of PTSD. Shame is a more personal take on guilt, in that it affects your opinion of who you are as a person, and it can (and often does) exist outside of actually having done something wrong both in prosocials and pwASPD. Guilt is an instinct when you have done something wrong to admit it and work to change the behavior in the future and make up for the harm it caused or had the potential to cause. Shame doesn’t care if you’ve actually wronged anyone nor does it care if you change the behavior in the future - and it doesn’t believe you can *ever* make up for it. Shame says you are a terrible horrible no-good very bad person because of *insert reason* and for that you must work your ass off to try to be redeemed while knowing you are never ever going to be. Shame is irrational while guilt is (considered by prosocials to be) rational.

In pwASPD, shame tends to be polarizing. I have talked to pwASPD who felt shame *much* more intensely because they had no experience with guilt to temper it, so the feeling was entirely foreign (this is how I experience it, although I’ve done some work to unlearn that), and I’ve met other pwASPD who can completely ignore the feeling of shame because they can easily identify it as not beneficial and therefore ignore it. I think part of it depends on how you take on things like ableism as well - it seems to correlate that people who don’t internalize any ableism are better at pushing away feelings of shame, whilst people like me who struggle with internalizing ableism are more distressed by shame.

It’s also worth noting that shame specifically associated with PTSD from the same place that led to the ASPD (so in other words, related to childhood trauma) can end up being the pwASPD’s only definition of guilt, and feel very all-encompassing because of that. They may feel haunted by any little thing they do that would have been wrong in the eyes of the person who caused the trauma. This can result in a pwASPD who is very timid and/or shows few symptoms. In my case, issues with this led me to lean away from the more obvious symptoms of my ASPD, which is why I had to fight myself on whether or not I truly had it before I was diagnosed. I was fairly meek for most of my life, and the classic behaviors many pwASPD experience like violent outbursts leading to breaking things and/or hurting animals or other children, breaking rules and defying authority, etc. was, for me, replaced by the more covert versions of those things. I broke things - but they were my things that I knew wouldn’t be missed. I would get bursts of rage and take it out on things I knew could take it or that I could excuse as being lost, or better yet, things that could have easily been broken by other means. For example, I had a tendency to break pencils when I was angry, so I would intentionally pick up any pencils I found on the floor at school and break *those* when I was angry, and for the same reason I washed and saved popsicle sticks “for arts and crafts”. I fell into the manipulation and deception (besides of my main caregiver who is an Exception) side more than the rule-breaking and violence side due to that trauma. The shame for the actions was something I could only tolerate if I could tell myself “nobody but you knows what you did” or “the only thing you broke are things that don’t mean anything to anybody and would be in the trash otherwise”.

I would say the biggest thing that pwASPD dealing with that intense shame feeling would do differently than most other pwASPD is to appear more “in control”. ASPD forms from trauma, so if that traumatic shame (and yes, growing up with OCD without knowing it and without having safe support *is* very often traumatic) is constantly beating on you as a part of the trauma, certain symptoms may not show up the same way as they would for someone where they didn’t have that. It’s not the same as not doing something because you can control the urge/impulse - what I’ve described here is just redirection of said impulse - and it’s not the same as feeling guilt. It’s a symptom of one or multiple other disorders playing in tandem with the ASPD symptoms.

As for how pwASPD deal with this shame compared to prosocials, I would say that it has the potential seriously numb us in a way that it doesn’t to prosocials. Generally, prosocials have a better idea of how to identify between the feelings of guilt vs shame, which is how most of them learn to recognize and act on one while not taking in the other. At the point where they can’t, it usually creates an anxiety disorder on top of whatever is causing the shame. In pwASPD however, if we feel shame like this, it often makes us even *less* receptive to the feeling of true guilt. For those of us who easily ignore the shame, guilt just gets lumped in with that and they move on, and for those of us that internalize the shame, guilt pales in comparison and we don’t see it as intrusive enough to listen to.

All of this is, as always, fairly anecdotal, but this is how I experience it combined with how people I have talked to describe it. It’s worth noting that many elitists will claim that feeling shame means you can’t have ASPD. I simply do not have the bandwidth to go into the details of *how ridiculous* that is right now, but it is in no way true. There is zero reason, in my opinion, to say that a symptom of another disorder cannot exist at the same time as ASPD. Afaik, there is currently no disorder that excludes you from the diagnosis of ASPD. The only disorders that even come close are bipolar disorder, schizophrenia/other disorders causing psychosis, and substance abuse disorder - but none of these truly exclude you from an ASPD diagnosis, they just require extra examination to make sure the symptoms do not only occur when manic, in psychosis, or while h1gh/drvnk respectively.

Sorry if this is a bit of a novel, I’m getting used to being back and trying to be concise again.

#tw trauma #tw ptsd #tw ocd #tw shame #tw religious guilt #tw religion #aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome

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iheartnimbassacity · 10 months

Text

Nimbasa City Police Department

Internal Document: Interrogation of Amaryllis, B

Officer on duty: [Redacted]

Transcript follows.

Officer: Good evening, Mr. Amaryllis. It's good to get to talk to you.

Amaryllis: Is it now. And it's Professor Amaryllis. Or Doctor if you prefer. I've earned my titles and I will have people use them.

Officer: Professor, of course. Please, take a seat. I'm sure you have had quite the day, between what occurred yesterday and finding the true nature of your husband. We have some evidence to show you about Dreda.

Amaryllis: Dave. His name is Dave and I will have you use it.

Officer: Dave. Alright.Truly, we are sorry this is how you had to find out. I'm sure you love the man, but you can't deny what he has done. What has he told you, Professor?

[Subject is presented with evidence file]

Amaryllis: You said you were here to show me things. Not to ask questions.

Officer: Both, really. We have gotten information out of Dre- Dave, already.He's dangerous, Professor. It's a surprise it took him this long to hurt someone.

[Subject is presented with evidence video 12a. They seem slightly shaken]

Amaryllis: This is a child. How can you look at this and not see a victim of the same violence that the others are living… She didn't want to hurt me.

Officer: He was old enough to know better, Professor. He still murdered people with little remorse. He was still willing to kill Blizz. We saw what that doctor said, it would have died. No matter how you spin it, your husband is dangerous. Did he ever show violent tendencies before this?

Amaryllis: The child in this photo is what, eight maybe, nine? Do you think children that old have that sort of agency, the strength to tie this man to that chair? Dave is the gentlest man I have ever known. More so than myself. She was in an impossible situation and face to face with a creature your culture reveres as a deity. Is it so hard to understand lashing out at the person you felt was responsible for all that?

Officer: He could have left, reports show he had many chances that he didn’t take. He can't be all that gentle when he almost killed you. He even stole from you what I can only imagine is a sentimental item. He was even wearing it around his neck when we found him. You cannot deny the facts, Professor. He needs to be locked up.

[Subject becomes agitated.]

Amaryllis: The facts? The facts are that that was a traumatized, abused child that was forced to do things she never wanted to do because they did not know that there was another option. Do you know, officer, what that kind of abuse does to a child? The learned helplessness, the fear of you taking a wrong step? Do you know how impossible it can feel so survive it, no less escape it? That necklace is sentimental, yes. Because I Had It Made For My Husband.

Officer: You know more than you are letting on. Do you want to see the tapes? Where your husband tortures a man to death, you can see the joy in his eyes. He thrived in Rocket, the death of his parents a plan gone wrong. That man is sick.

Amaryllis: So now we are assuming crimes that you have no evidence for, along with assigning guilt to an abused child that only their parents should have held. That sounds very much like 'Innocent until proven guilty. Dave is a good man. A kind man. None of this rests on his shoulders, and you know that a jury would agree. Is any of this even admissible? Where. Is. My. Wife.

Officer: You can't see him. He's still being questioned. It's a fair assumption, considering his past endeavors. Even if you believe he was just an 'abused child', he kept stealing into adulthood. I don't doubt he would have gone on a killing spree if he got on his feet before he met you. Have you considered that he was just lying? To get close to you, to make you trust him, for his safety against those who may try to punish him for his crimes?

[Evidence video 17c is played. Subject visibly recoils.]

Amaryllis: He wasn't lying to me. I know him better than you ever will. We wouldn't. He wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose, not if she had a choice. She's a good person.

Officer: So you knew, and did nothing? Did you ever confront him? Did you not watch the video? No matter how you look at it, he enjoys causing pain. He's dangerous. How can you say he's a good person after what you have seen?

Amaryllis: You're wrong. You're wrong about all of this. That isn't enjoyment that's fucking dissociation. That- …I have seen the kindness he is capable of, I have seen how afraid he is of hurting others, how gentle she is. I would like to see my wife.

Officer: How can you be sure that isn't a mask, Professor? You're a smart man, you think he wouldn't just lie to you? We cannot let you two meet. He's dangerous, only certain people can see him.

[Subject becomes visibly angry]

Amaryllis: He's not Dangerous! He wouldn't ever hurt me. He would not.

Officer: Answer me. What reason do you think Dave is more than just a flimsy mask of a liar?

Amaryllis: He's more of a man then you will ever be. You have nothing real, nothing you can use, you would not be trying to hound me for answers if you did. He isn't lying to me. He didn't ... He didn't lie.

Officer: He told you a half truth, didn't he? He didn't tell you the whole truth, isn't that right? Professor, you need to know when to cut your losses.

Amaryllis:This interview is fucking over. You have nothing, just cowards trying to justify their pathetic existence by hurting people who have actually decided to do some good in the world. If any of this meant anything you wouldn't be trying so hard to turn me on the man I love. I will be back, and I will make you all regret not seeing reason.

[Subject storms out]

#pkmn irl #pkmn rp #high stakes pokereality #all is revealed arc #tw tourture mention #((only under the cut because this is a long post.

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stxrshxpxd · 2 years

Text

"that's not why you're asking" || 90s damon

pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

word count: 929

warnings: post car accident

prompt: damon has ended up in the hospital after a drunken car accident. much to the reader's embarrassment he remembers everything from last night...

* * *

He’d had dried blood around his left nostril and down to his top lip when I’d involuntarily fallen asleep. He must’ve swallowed a bunch of it because I remember the heavy flow, yet his chin was clean. Clean, pale, stubbly. I woke from my slumber and within a split second I was ripped right back into panic. My hands fell to grasp the bar on the side of the hospital bed and my eyes scanned his face. There was no longer any trace of blood around his nose.

“Damon,” I whispered even though I didn’t know what my next line would be if he'd answered. I’m sorry? How are you? We shouldn’t have taken the car? …What would’ve happened?

“Y/N,” he answered after a beat, his whisper hoarse and derived from pain.

“Have you been here all night?” he filled in the gap in the air where I was supposed to have said something. Further guilt haunted me.

“Graham practically begged me to go and get some proper rest,” I breathed. I couldn’t conjure a steady voice.

“Probably because he wanted me for himself.”

Damon smirked and his head fell to the side, his vibrant eyes staring at me from behind half closed lids.

“You’re not very entertaining in this state,” I laughed quietly and Damon’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Why have you stuck around then?”

I stayed quiet. Not necessarily because I was withholding an answer, but because I couldn’t settle on one.

“You feel guilty.”

“I hate when you do that,” I chuckled again, my gaze dropping to my gripping hands and his relaxed arm that laid next to it. “Decide things for me as if you know me better than I know myself.”

“Because I’m smarter than you.”

My mind still clung to that comment about my guilt.

“Do you remember last night?”

Damon was the quiet one now. But when I looked up there was still a crooked smile on his dry lips.

“Just cause… They think you might have brain damage. Maybe amnesia.”

“Are you asking because you’re worried about my brain?”

“Of course I’m worried about your brain.”

“But that’s not why you’re asking.”

“Clearly your brain is fine.” I cleared my throat and stood up, only to pace around in a circle with my hands in my hair.

“Clearly you’re blushing.”

“Clearly you need more sleep.”

“I remember that offer about a lap dance. I hope it still stands. Maybe I deserve more now that I nearly died.”

My cheeks were burning up now, replaying the scenes from last night. We had run into one another in the same bar, both already tipsy. A mission to get the other drunk had ensued and lines had blurred by the minute. Certain feelings had risen to the surface and a sloppy kiss had been shared, before we’d stumbled out to my car. I had insisted I could safely drive us to my place, but we had ended up in the hospital instead.

“I’m not sure your internal bleeding would like that.”

“I think my internal bleeding has no say in the matter.”

Silence returned to the dim hospital room and I let my gaze trail off to scan the subtle pattern in the off-white walls around us. Damon took a deep breath and held in the better half of a grunt as he tried to adjust his position on the bed. I snapped my eyes back to him, worry filling up my chest again.

“Actually I am having trouble remembering some parts…” He took another deep breath and found eye contact with me again. “..What was it you said when we talked about how long we’ve known each other? Something.. Something about you fancying me since day one?”

My heart jumped inside my chest and my cheeks reddened again. The only colour in his face were the deep red and mulberry shades in the cut across his cheek and his bruised nose.

“You’ve obviously got brain damage,” I muttered, sinking down in my chair again. He laughed weakly, amused with himself.

“You’re a good kisser,” he said after another beat of silence.

“I’m much better when I’m not blackout drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’re so annoying,” I laughed and shook my head, avoiding his eye contact.

“Prove you’re a better kisser when you’re sober.”

“I’m barely sober-”

“Prove it.”

I knew he would never back down and the last thing I wanted was to further strain him or his brain, so I sighed and grabbed his hand. I kissed the back of it shortly, tasting the slight saltiness in the cold sweat on his skin.

“That was not better,” he chuckled. “I remember you biting my lip at one point.”

“Will you shut up and get some sleep if I kiss you?” I raised my voice slightly, sitting on the edge of my seat now. Damon continued grinning.

“Okay,” he said softly.

With a roll of the eyes I stood up and leaned in closer to him. I placed a soft kiss on his lips. Right as I pulled away that desire to prove him wrong kicked in and I went in for another kiss, this one with passion dripping out of me. I could taste the faint flavour of blood still on his lips and the tip of his tongue. The smell of alcohol from his breath lingered in my nose as I pulled away and sat back down, once again faced with his grin.

“Night then,” he mumbled from behind his smirk and closed his eyes softly.

#damon albarn #alex james #dave rowntree #graham coxon #blur #90s #britpop #fluff #smut #angst #fic #imagine #blurb #au #y/n #damon albarn x reader

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loevhyuck · 7 months

Note

let me ask you a genuine question. idols have no obligation to tell us any personal info whatsoever and their privacy is #1. i have tho, read mark saying multiple times over the last few years that there is still a part of him that he doesn’t love yet/doesn’t know if he will ever love/accept. and it struck me so deeply because i used to say the same thing. what do you think he means by that?

oh hello. so. here we are. this is the most awful thing i can say, but i have often noticed that he and i are very similar in some topics. and theme about self-dislike i feel especially acutely. in all the years that i've been following mark, he still seems to me to be a very insecure person. this was especially intensified after he confessed in the documentary. the one where his parents had more hopes for his brother than for him. and i think this is one of the reasons, although he will never blame his family, this is one of the important components of his life. but the first place we find ourselves is our relatives, and unfortunately, especially when it’s a younger child, they don’t believe in them so much. and i am sure that he will always not do enough for himself. no matter how he kills himself at work and almost breaks down like a toy. that he works little, labors little and tries to do more to be accepted, to be seen. he is his own biggest enemy, as are his thoughts. as it seems, he takes too much responsibility upon himself. he was used to being alone, like a person who left home in early childhood. and i was always really sad that mark didn’t believe in himself until the end. that it’s as if he doesn’t find a place in himself. but the funny thing is that he is most confident on stage. and perhaps the fact that he became an artist saves him for the most part. but in another he sees his whole fate and the trauma of a child alone as a nightmare and that he is still alone, a canadian who moved to korea.

but now i would like to raise a slightly different topic. when he says he is a bad person. that he's really not that good, even though we all know he's not. everyone in the industry loves him and almost everyone in the group mentioned that they are grateful to mark for everything. and i always wondered why there was so much uncertainty in him that he was a good person, but he had such a big heart. the same mark who is in love with the sky, a hopeless romantic and a great team player. and every time i asked myself this question, it was as if I was both so close and so far from the answer. because we each have our own reasons for considering ourselves a bad person. from attitude to other people, to life, to fans. and most importantly to yourself. and i don't think cark can't take sides because of the type of artist he is. or let's say appearance. or family. because he is growing and growing, perhaps he is overcome by frustration about advancing in two units, but also. his family is always close to him, and everything seems to be smooth with his fans. i think this is something that sits deep within him and is part of him.

if I don't love and can't accept myself, then how can I move on.

'you’re normal. you’re doing fine. sometimes you’re doing better, sometimes you’re doing worse but at the end, it’s you. so, i just want you to have no regrets. i want you to feel yourself grow and i just want you to also love yourself' but I began to notice that after child it began to rise especially often. that he wants to grow up and love himself. perhaps this is not only his appearance and his creativity, where he is still trying to find himself, or an internal conflict due to character, but something deeper.

the only thing is, I don’t want to bring up the topic of religious guilt/trauma, as well as sexuality, because i never want to speculate on such things on the internet publicly. but personally i have this. that sometimes I still cannot accept some things on this basis, my bisexuality in particular. i can’t understand who I am and finally understand myself 100%. because everything would be easier if I were different.

thank you for this interesting question, if there is anything else to discuss, you can write to me or ask another question. I hope that I got at least a little into the reasoning. i will write more later. <3. p.s. i also don’t like myself and will never be able to accept some things. and it's because of the way i treat people, they see me too as a good person, but i never have been and never will be.

#mark #we're the same person tho #my friends told me....#what do you guys think #and thank you again <3

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pevensiechase · 4 months

Text

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS DISNEY + (2023) SPOILERS AHEAD

Okay, I watched the first two episodes of the series...and I have....thoughts.

ALSO THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK SERIES, SO IF YOU'RE WAITING TO READ THE BOOKS UNTIL AFTER THE SHOW, BE WARNED

I don't remember everything I reacted to, but here are some major ones. I'm going to start off with the negative points because I need to get them off my chest, so if you don't want to read the negativity, then here is your warning to leave.

My first issue has always been with the casting.

The main issue that Percy is blond. I'm biased because the POWER dark haired Percy held over all the fangirls because the black hair, green eyes combo had them (myself included) in a chokehold. Like, Percy Jackson is literally the basis for my type in men. Dark hair, green eyes. Also, Sally says that Percy looks like his father in the books, so what's Poseidon going to look like.

Also Luke is brunette, and he's supposed to be blond, which is significant because he's, like, the perfect all-American boy with a white house in Connecticut. He's met his dad, unlike the other campers, and he's a white blond boy with an athletic build and blue eyes. His main thing is that he CHOSE this life despite having it better than many other campers. Also, there are MANY parallels to (Heroes of Olympus Spoilers) Jason in the Heroes of Olympus. They are basically foils of each other. Luke is kinda like Jason's evil twin. Because Jason is also the all-American blond boy with blue eyes who had reason to go rogue (being abandoned by his mother), but he didn't.

AND, there's supposed to be a stark contrast between Jason and Thalia with her having dark hair and him having blond, but they share the same eyes. So, either Jason and Luke aren't going to look alike, or Jason is going to look different, and defeats the purpose of his contrast with Thalia.

Another issue I had was with the characterization

Many things felt wrong, and it took me several hours to realize they made everyone WAY more confident than normal.

In the books, a constant struggle (even into HoO) is that Percy is always seen in a certain light and even when he's accomplished things, internally he thinks "I'm not as great as you think, guys". He's always been self-conscious about his abilities, his leadership, his authority, and even his appearance. But in the tv show he's like "I'm gonna find my dad and MAKE him notice me because he owes me that much". Percy has always believed that people think he's better than he is and that he will let them down. He constantly compares himself to Luke and Jason.

Annabeth is also more sure of herself. In the books she acts tough, but it's to cover up the fact that she's had to prove herself her whole life to be worth something. She has to prove to her mom/Chiron that she is worthy enough to go on a quest, she had to prove that she could be head counselor, and she struggled with people underestimating her (appearances aside, because those still can be said with Leah as the actress). She's always felt like she needed to do better and achieve more to fully feel her worth.

And Grover in the books is supposed to be timid and awkward. And he makes jokes in poor taste because he's nervous, and usually he's described as anxious, but they don't show that in the tv show. He eats tin cans and furniture when he's nervous. He doesn't believe that Percy should trust him, and he's still holding onto the guilt from Thalia (Though more of this could be shown through the next few episodes). He always thinks that Annabeth and Percy would be better without him.

ANOTHER THING. They took out Grover's crutches because he's supposed to walk weird due to him being a satyr, so he uses braces/crutches. I hate to say it, but man, even the MOVIES had that little bit of lore. I know, I know, it would've been hard to show in that time span, but come on.

Even Sally has a huge character arc which goes from putting up with her Gabe, though with some quiet acts of rebellion--blue food--to turning him to stone with the head of Medusa in the end. But in the tv series, she yells back and gets into verbal disagreements with him boldly. She's portrayed as having more power than she did in the book. Like, in the book, she convinced Gabe to let them take the car out very gently and with bribing him with his favorite dip, almost how you would act around a bomb, being careful what she said because both she and Percy knew that he could

*trigger warning* fly off the handles and abuse them if he was feeling a certain way. He's stated to have hit her before. THAT IS A TRAUMA RESPONSE *trigger warning end*

But in the tv show, she seems more...girl-boss-ish. She raises her voice to meet his. I don't know. To me, Sally has always been, quietly strong. Like a stone. She isn't loud like a firework, though she can be, but she has the determination that isn't heard but seen. Also they had her (who canonically listens to like the White Stripes) listen to "logical" by Olivia Rodrigo…like what? I'm hoping that was just background music and not what she was actually listening to.

Gabe also just felt...off. I think it's because Disney can't show physical abuse because it's Disney, so they had to make him seem like a jerk a different way, but he kinda just felt like a bum, rather than someone who actively bullied Percy. Like, he tried to coerce Percy into giving him poker money in the book. He's also hurt Percy and told Percy not to tell his mother or else it would be worse. Like, Gabe is seriously TERRIBLE.

The last thing I had issues with was plot points that were changed when they could have been kept

Luke had a weird obsession with glory, that I don't really understand. That was even their capture the flag chant.

The whole bathroom scene was WRONG because Annabeth was the one who was supposed to be showing him around camp, and she was with him with Clarisse dragged him into the bathroom during their tour. I don't understand why they pushed back Annabeth and Percy's official meeting as far as they did.

I admit, the scene where Percy was supposed to be on watch but was instead doing the floss dance, sleeping, looking at a gecko was entertaining, but in the novel he was more nervous than anything.

Also, they took out the hellhound scene (after they win capture the flag but before Percy gets claimed)...which in the grand scheme of things probably wasn't that bad, but it sets up for Luke's betrayal later. Because monsters can't get beyond the border unless someone summons them, and it's revealed at the end of book that Luke summoned the hellhound that attacked Percy, and that's the catalyst for sending Percy on the quest.

This one, I will acknowledge for saving time and not drawing it out, but the whole scene where Sally was explaining what a demigod felt wrong. Percy is confused for a good portion of the novel because he's trying to figure stuff out, but it seems like he gets a crash course in demigodliness from Sally, and that takes out his utter confusion.

Also, Grover was supposed to be passed out during the Minotaur scene, and Percy has to drag him up the hill. There was a major point of the Council of the Cloven Elders shaming Grover for being unconscious while taking his ward into camp. AND GROVER doesn't know what happened to Sally. Why was that plot point in there. It was supposed to be motivation for Percy to go on the quest, but, like, the whole reason was because Chiron didn't believe camp was safe, due to the aforementioned hellhound.

EDIT: ALSO THE SCENE WITH MRS. DODD'S WAS WEIRD. In the book, she took him into a different part of the museum so it would be easier for her to attack him without people around. But in the series...it just happened. And Mr. Brunner gave him the pen long before. I wanted the scene where he came in and said "what ho! Percy" and threw him the pen. AND, there wasn't the bit where Mr. Brunner was asking the class questions about Kronos and his kids and Percy answers, giving more foreshadowing to his Greek myth heritage. And the aftermath where Grover lies about what Percy did to Nancy Bobofit. It made the rift between them seem so much bigger.

Edit (2): I DON'T LIKE HOW THEY TOOK OUT THE NECTAR AND AMBROSIA SCENE. That scene was so cute because he's a mama's boy and he's like "they taste like my mom's chocolate chip cookies".

Edit (3): I hope this is the last one, but I keep remembering stuff. The weird cut scenes where commercials would go if it were on TV. Those transitions could be smoother, and the "cut to black" is just really abrupt, and it kinda kills the vibe.

Edit (4): I really really hope this is the last one. But the only thing I have against Gabe not having a job and only playing poker online (though I like how it just makes him seem like more of pathetic loser), is that we can't have that scene from the end of The Lightning Thief book. Where Percy gets on national television, puts on a whole act of getting choked up and the, wait I need to find the quote:

“All I want,” I said, choking back my tears, “Is to see my loving stepfather again. Everytime I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew… somehow… we would be okay. And I know he’ll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here’s the phone number.”

THIS SCENE IS A NEED.

Okay, this is getting long, so I'll do the positive things in another post. I'm sure there are other things that bothered me, but I can't remember them right now.

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