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cloverfarm · 20 days

Text

— read you like a book

sdv!harvey x f!reader

rated e - 5k

Tags: gentledom/service!dom harvey, mutual pining/ yearning, mention of alcohol, flirting, kissing, begging, teasing, body worship, oral sex, vaginal fingering, implied squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: had the thought that Harvey would know just how to take care of you, and wanted to explore that idea (and still deep in my Harvey-is-a-dirty-talker era)

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” Harvey rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

“I was thinking-,” A finger slips beneath the band, testing the elastic. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

(Or - Harvey overhears about your past lackluster experiences, and can’t help wanting to lend a hand)

There’s the clack of pool balls colliding in your corner of the Stardrop Saloon. The jaunty piano music muted, your fingers wrapping around a sweat-dewed glass.

A late-night Friday evening, the conversation already turning debauched as your off-handed remark of feeling frustrated was quickly misinterpreted and took another turn. Spiraling away from you, with their overlapping ideas.

Your nose crinkling with a suggestion to use the community board, one that has them bent-over with laughter - you could only imagine the shock at seeing such a message.

Help Wanted: Farmer looking to get ploughed. Used to getting a little dirty. If interested, please call…

“Could use an app. Been a while, but I used to do that.” Shane’s wiggles his phone at you, keying in the website for FerngillFlings. Flashing the front page at you, all while you try to ignore the clench of jealousy that flares to life in your stomach.

Sam leans over you, squinting at the screen, “You can’t tell me that works. Your matches come all the way out here?”

“Sure do.” Shane’s shoulder lifts in a shrug, from where his arm rests on the couch behind you. “Haven’t heard any complaints.”

The double-innuendo isn’t missed, your tongue poking into your cheek as your head shakes in exasperation.

“Haven’t heard, or haven’t listened?” Abigail shoots back with a smirk, and he rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Any matches from here?” You can’t help but ask, glancing sideways at him in curiosity.

He slumps a little further in his seat, knee knocking against yours, “Wouldn’t you like to know, farm girl?”

Thick fingers curl around the can before it lifts it to his lips, hiding his own smirk as you stiffen beside him.

Shane infuriated you. Always teasing, never answering a question directly. Deflecting a sly comment with a dry one of his own, until you weren’t sure where you stood with him.

You’d given up a while ago.

Your heart now quite taken with another.

“I think we’d all like to know.” Abigail chimes in, and you send a grin her way.

“I thought we were still talking about Miss Grange Queen?”

Your look turns apologetic - you know Pierre has been prepping all week as well - but she brushes it off, “I don’t care. Honestly, I hope you win this year. But he is right…”

A chipped polished nail taps her lip, before she fixes you with a look of concern, “When was the last time you got laid?”

The gulping swallow of your drink goes down wrong, making you splutter. A solid hand thumps you on the back, as your palm swipes across your mouth.

“What?” You manage, through watery eyes.

“Okay, we definitely gotta know.” The hand still rests against you, pinned against the plush cushion of the couch. Fingers tapping expectantly between your shoulders.

Yoba almighty.

You know they won’t back down. Even Sam lingers, eyebrows raised as his hip rests against the edge of the pool table.

“It’s been… a while.” You hedge, glancing around the room before you can answer. Voice lowering - not worried about the bar, it’s too far away.

More concerned about the booth that sits just across the room. Occupied when you arrived - your gaze flicking to Elliot often as he had sat alone, waiting.

Knowing who would be coming - a little flip in your stomach with Harvey arrived late, red-cheeked from the run, the novel pinched between his fingers.

You thought it was cute. Their little weekly book club. On another night you would have hoped to eavesdrop - figure out what the choice was for this month.

“You talking weeks? Months?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare from Sebastian, the hip check that follows - indicating his turn.

“Pre-farm,” Your head shakes, “Two years, maybe?”

“Years?” Abigail screeches, as your eyes widen - a hand coming to press unconsciously against a burning cheek.

Unable to help the sidelong look at the table across the way. The heat in your cheek rising to your ears when your eyes meet hazel ones, before you’re dropping your gaze.

“It’s not worth it,” You try to rein them in, all but pleading, “It’s not like it’s all that satisfying either, you know?”

“You mean you don’t…?” Abigail suggests - looking at you dubiously, and even Sebastian is turning to give you a pitying look.

“I mean… sometimes, I guess?” Your shoulder lifts, and then drops, “It’s not a big deal.”

You could get there yourself just fine. Have certainly managed, with your current dry spell. Before, you sometimes would afterwards - alone - easing the unresolved pleasure that licks in your belly.

But you’re sure it wasn’t the same as having someone there with you. Having their focus so solely on you.

It’s not something you’re about to explain. This has gotten too deep. You’re used to the tales of Shane’s old one night stands. The occasional complexities that come from Sam and Abigail both dating the same person, but these talks rarely focus on you.

“What kind of guys are you fucking?” Shane asks bluntly, making you gasp.

“Normal guys.” You hiss, “Besides, it’s probably just me.”

Taking a sip of your drink then to deflect, the sharp flavor making you cough.

“You don’t starfish, do you?” Sam pipes up, helpfully.

It has you almost choking again.

Shane smirks, “Maybe it is you, Farm Girl. Should have someone here take a look-”

You miss the end of his comment with the sudden, loud scrape of wood. Heads turning to where Harvey half-stands, his chair pushed back. Staring your way, with lips parted and brow furrowed.

“You got something to say, Doc?” Shane scoffs, his voice a little too loud.

Harvey blinks, and reddens. Coming back to himself, a sharp click of teeth as they close - swiping his half-full glass from the table.

Mumbling something about needing a refill - before his head is dipping, and he makes towards the bar.

Your eyes follow him, before your hand is scrubbing over your face - the heels pressing into your eye sockets. And finally, mercifully, the subject is changed, a collective groan as Sam accidently knocks two stripes in the corner pockets.

But even as the evening fades - you can’t quite shake Harvey’s expression from your mind.

The air is cool, hinting at the coming frost. Your jacket shrugged on as you step outside, before plunking down on the cobblestone path outside of the Stardrop.

It’s dark, late. The scattered streetlights outside offering pockets of the town, the rest cast in hazy shadow.

There’s a flare of light to your side. Sebastian sneaking out for his smoke break, now that Robyn and Demetrius have called it a night. You sometimes go with him, keeping silent company.

Content to let your legs dangle, to listen to the croak and groan of the frogs near the river. To let your mind wander.

Tonight though, it’s still so singularly focused.

You don’t feel embarrassed about what you said, only that he overheard it. Harvey had so much of his life together - surely a man who was there to discuss books and drink wine would not want to spent his evening listening to the lewd gossip of folks younger than him.

What if he took your words to heart, and thought you were not interested? What if he thought you weren’t good? A sigh to yourself then, as you pull yourself together with a reminder. Not that he thinks anything of you.

But… you admit that you had hoped.

It’s only now that you hear voices just down the path, two friends bidding goodbye. That shade of green you’ve come to associate with Harvey has your ears pricking up - catching where they linger, near the park benches.

Bravery steeling itself, in your belly.

“I’m gonna head out,” You hear yourself saying, as you push to your feet, “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks, with a smoky exhale.

“Yeah.” It’s distracted. Giving him a wave, just as you skirt around the door that opens behind you.

Missing the pair of eyes that follow you as you leave.

Too far out of earshot to hear the murmured words, as he exhales another held drag from his cigarette, “You’re missing your chance, man.”

And then the answer, growled out as Shane’s hands shove deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket.

“Never had one.”

“Harvey!” You call out, as he splits from his companion.

Missing how Elliot settles amongst the trio of benches, his book cracking open to finish the chapter under the streetlight.

Harvey lingers, in the middle of the cobblestone path. His expression almost wary, your explanation coming in a rush.

“I am sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” Your hands clasp together, fingers twisting, “We should’ve been more considerate. You and Elliot were there first.”

His expression clears at that, a slight mark between his eyebrows. He’s tall, you’re realizing. Not that you didn’t know, not that you haven’t stood next to him on occasion.

But your heart had never quite pounded like this, never so acutely aware of your proximity - too used to the barrier of the counter in his office.

“No, uh, not at all. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Harvey clarifies, his voice soft, “I certainly didnt mean to try to interrupt. I’m afraid that was rude of me.”

His answer sends your mind careening into overdrive. Not quite taking his half-hearted excuse earlier, but too wrapped up in your embarrassment to truly process it.

That has you thinking - realizing that he had some sort of intention. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, unable to help but wonder.

“Can I ask you something?” Your eyes search his, voice quiet in the night, “You don’t have to answer.”

The slight curve of his lips fall, an almost uneasy look passing his features - though he does not deny you, “If you’d like.”

“What were you going to say?” You ask him “Back in the bar. You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your words hang, for a moment. And then silence, enveloped by the soft sounds of the night.

“Oh.” He hedges, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “It’s, ah… it’s just a shame.”

Your eyebrows lift, worry flooding through you as you wonder what he means.

“That you haven’t had a more… positive experience.” He finishes lamely.

The worry transforms, turning into a heated curiosity.

“Why would it be a shame?”

The shade of pink deepens across his cheeks, hidden in the shadows. A finger unconsciously hooking around his collar and tugging.

“Because there’s no reason satisfaction can’t be mutually inclusive,” He manages, “From uh, the point of view of a medical professional.”

Your lips press together to hide your laugh, charmed by his careful answer, “How I wish that were true.”

And that had him fixing on you, catching you in the brunt of his gaze, “It could be. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

It makes your breath catch. That hope flaring to life again. Reading into his meaning, daring yourself to ask, “Is that right? You know anyone around here?”

Only to watch the way his face goes carefully blank - his words slow, “I’m sure… I’m sure you don’t need my help to find out.”

It’s hard not to feel disappointed. Hoping that there was an offer, woven into his words. The bit you had clung to leaves you, with the next exhale of your breath.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Your smile is small. Deflecting with a joke, because it’s all you know, “I don’t starfish, by the way. If you heard that part.”

He huffs a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I didn’t think you did.”

The look he gives you is at odds with his hesitance in answering. A soft, amused smile that makes your heart flip.

Yoba, you have it bad.

“Goodnight, Harvey.” You smile back - intent on ending the night before you make it worse, “And, thank you.”

His answer echos yours, his feet firmly rooted as you disappear into the night. Silence lingering under the soft glow of the street lamp, as his mind races.

“If you were looking for an invitation, old friend,” An amused voice comes from the benches - where Elliot still sits, his book long forgotten.

“That was it.”

The television blares as you stretch out on the couch - intent on unwinding a bit further, after a long day. Immediately stripping down to your loungewear as soon as you stepped in the door, cracking a window to let in the autumn air.

Your head rests on a pillow, an old quilt pulled haphazardly around your hips as you watch a rerun of The Queen of Sauce - something that fortunately required little attention.

Because your mind is occupied elsewhere, thinking back to the square with both chagrin and disappointment. Hoping that maybe Harvey had drank more wine than you thought - that maybe he wouldn’t remember how you all but threw yourself at him.

Gentleman that he is, he probably just wouldn’t bring it up in the first place. You don’t know if that’s more preferable, or less - perhaps you owe him yet another apology.

A timid knock at the door draws your attention, your feet silent as you slip from the couch. You really should move it - giving yourself a view of the small, narrow porch. Maybe installing another light outside.

But this was Pelican Town, you remind yourself - you’re not in the big city anymore. It was probably Abigail, not wanting to head home yet.

For now, you move to the door, pausing to shrug on the worn, plaid barn coat that hangs by the door, buttoning it in an last-minute attempt at modesty.

Your hand on the frame of the door as you crack the front door open, close enough to grab the old wooden bat you have tucked next to the rickety side table.

Eyes going wide when you realize who it is.

Harvey. His face half-turned away, looking like he’s second-guessing himself from your delay - half-way ready to book it down the steps that lead to the packed dirt road.

“Hi again,” You nudge the door open wider, leaning against the frame.

He turns back, surprise crossing his features again when he sees you. Eyes dipping down, snagging - slowly dragging back up over the bare skin of your legs, the low dip of the collar, as if he has forgotten himself for a moment.

“Hi.” He answers belatedly, blinking as he comes back into the present.

You wait a beat for him to explain, for any sort of sign as to why he’s here. Wondering why he travelled all the way in near-darkness, you knew more than anyone what a trek it could be.

And he must realize, because he blinks again, worry pulling down the edges of his brows, a small crease appearing in the middle.

“I-, well, Elliot-,” Harvey begins, throwing a thumb over his shoulder into the darkness, his other hand still clutching the book from the Saloon. Starting over when he realizes he’s making zero sense, “Back, in the square.”

His lips pressing together for a moment, an inhale of breath before the words rush out, “Am I misreading this?”

An emphasis on ‘this’, a small gesture with his fingers between the two of you. It makes you smile, relief flooding through you - enough to where you’re reaching out, tapping a fingernail against the solid cover of the book.

“I think you’re reading this just fine.” Your head tilts up to look him in the eye, seeing the relief on his own features as well, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” He breathes, and you’re stepping aside with a smile - taking his book from him to rest on the little side table.

Hanging his moss-green jacket on your one good hanger by the door, showing him where to put his shoes.

Steps that make the floorboards creak because he doesn’t know which ones to avoid - not yet - as he lets you guide him to the couch. Carefully sitting on the middle cushion, the sharp, white starch of his dress shirt standing out against the worn, rust-orange fabric.

Your own feet following until you’re standing in from of him. Not quite believing, as your face tilts down to meet the upturned angle of his own.

Harvey was here.

The man who got more than a little bossy with you when you came in to the clinic with a bad scrape, or a cold. Who always has a smile, who listened intently when you keep him up to date about the new crops you’re growing, even though he knows nothing about farming.

Who you never had let yourself daydream about too often, because he had always kept you at arms length. You had always thought it was part of his profession, or that perhaps he just didn’t see you like that.

Like he’s looking at you now - like you’ve hung the stars.

You really want to kiss him.

You hope he’ll let you.

Slowly, like when you’re approaching a new calf, you move toward him. The slight, automatic spread of his knees as you step between them, before your own knees are bending.

Hands resting on the wooden frame of couch as you lower yourself - until you’re straddling his thighs, bare knees pressing into the worn cushions on either side.

“This okay?” You ask, close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave, the solid weight of him beneath you.

Hands that slide from their place at his side, up the curve of your calves, until they’re resting on the bare expanse of your thighs.

“Yes.” The word comes out low, fingers pressing against your skin as your own drop to the thick buttons of your coat, slowly working each one open.

Until you’re shrugging the fabric off to pool on the wooden floor - all bare arms and legs beneath in your too-large t-shirt, a pair of cotton underwear.

About to apologize for your choice in clothing - never actually expecting to take someone home - but the hands rise, cradling your face as he tips it to meet his.

A low sound in your throat at his lips touch yours, your hands resting on his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric. A feather-soft brush until you shift, pressing yourself against him as you lean in.

His groan matches yours. Hands moving, skating down your arms, curving around your hips. Your hips roll on their own, seeking the friction of his trousers. Something warm pooling in your belly, when he deepens the kiss.

Encouraging you, as those hands guide the roll of your hips again. As his tongue brushes against lips that part without thought.

There’s the sharp punch of fruit on his tongue, paired with the taste of him. A heady mixture, making you feel like you could get drunk off just this.

You can feel him harden beneath you. Pressing against your cleft as your thighs inch further apart. It’s only when your hands leave his - reaching for the bottom of your shirt, that he breaks away.

His lips kiss-swollen and pretty. Disheveled, his tie crooked, shirt wrinkled from your fingers. Equally dazed, his eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then further again.

“Not here.” Harvey’s voice is a low rasp, unmoving despite his demand.

It has your pausing, until you catch the way his first two fingers slip under the hem, petting against skin.

“Bedroom?” You offer, and he’s smiling. Leaning forward to kiss you again. Easing you off him but it’s reluctant - his fingers twining with yours as you stumble into the next room.

It’s darker in there, the light from the television flickering against the floor. Dissolving as it reaches your bed, your knees parting this time as he stands between them.

Your eyes greedy, focused on his fingers as he loosens his tie, the first few buttons of his shirt. His own drifting over every inch and curve of you. A short intake of air as you tug the shirt from your shoulders, leaving it to drop on the floor.

It feels like you’re on display, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with the way he looks at you - his eyes snagging on the damp patch between your thighs, the pale fabric darkening with your arousal.

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” He rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

You’re near-mute. Left nodding, as the bed dips. As he urges you back into the pillows, folding himself onto the mattress with you.

“I was thinking-,” He tests the band, a finger slipping beneath. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

You feel yourself clench down around nothing. A low whine in your throat at the tone of his voice. So matter-of fact. Like he knows how to do just what he says.

“Can you?” It comes out strangled, your breath held as his eyes fix on yours, “Could you show me? What it’s like to be taken care of?”

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” He asks - his gaze searching. Slipping a second finger under, the blunt nails grazing sensitive skin.

“Yoba.” Your hips feel like they lift on their own, seeking him, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He smiles again, the moonlight catching on his glasses. A hand running through tousled curls, mussing them further. Fingers joining yours as your panties join the floor, baring yourself fully.

You expect him to touch you and he does - but not in the way you’re thinking. Lowering himself next to you, guiding your mouth to his again. His hand skimming the inside of your thigh. Fingers slipping along the crease where it meet your hip, inches away from where you ache for him.

“Harvey.” You sigh into his mouth. Chasing it when he pulls back, hearing the pleased hum in his throat. Carefully removing his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket.

Then his mouth is dropping to your neck, where your pulse flutters. To your shoulder. All while his fingers trace your skin, making you squirm in anticipation.

When his tongue peeks out to brush against tight, peaked nipple, you hear yourself cry out. Clinging to him again, as teeth graze against your breast - followed by a soothing kiss, his mustache tickling against the soft curve.

“I need you to touch me,” You pant.

Long forgetting what it was like to feel like this. The anticipation swirling in you like a dam about to burst. The desperation - knowing after all this time of wanting him, that tonight he is yours.

Your own hands grasping at him - tugging at the buttons. Pale skin and dark hair appearing with each one that loosens, trying to pull the hem from where it tucks into your trousers.

The hand against your thigh twitches, his gaze dark as he glances up at you. No longer hidden behind frames, you can see how his pupils are blown wide, inching out the hazel.

“I just want to make sure you’re ready, sweetheart.” He rasps, inching closer - fingers parting on either side of your mound.

“Want you nice and wet for me.”

It’s too much. You’re too wound up, needy. In your daydreams you’ve thought of him - in your bed, bent over the table in his office. Everything pales in comparison to this, turning you into a begging mess.

“I am,” You breathe, “Fuck, Harvey. You know I am, I’m-”

The words break off, turning into a ragged moan as he finally touches you. Parting your slick seam, where you’re dripping from the press of his mouth and the teasing glide of his fingers.

“There you are.” He hums, though you can feel the way his hips press against yours. Chasing his own urges, seeking friction where he strains.

Your eyes flutter half-shut as he teases as your entrance. Fingertips slick as he brings them up to circle your clit, sparks going up inside your belly.

Watching as he moves, the careful ease from where he lies next to you - now settling between your thighs.

“Yoba, you’re beautiful.”

He says it so simply, almost as if in awe. Your thighs start to clamp shut around his hand but he’s smiling - his left palm pressing your leg to the bed, opening you further.

Not used to his gaze like this. It flicks from your face, down to where his hands shift - his thumb rolling against your clit, as his middle finger sinks inside you.

He can feel how you clench around him already. Movements slow, drawing himself out just to sink further each time.

“So fucking pretty.” He says it again - you think, just to see you squirm. The way your eyes pull from his, the flex of your muscle under his palm.

Transfixed by the way his fingers move. The pressure against your clit, the way he presses deep. Your small room filled with the little sounds you make and the slick plunge of his finger.

Your panting breath catching, turning sharp as his finger crooks on the next pass. Carefully stroking against your inner walls, a throb of pleasure following.

He catches your sounds, a mark forming between his eyebrows. One you’ve seen before, in the way he focuses when you’re explaining something about your farm. A sweet stretch of pressure when he adds his ring finger, opening you further as he strokes again.

You haven’t felt anything quite like this. A ghost of it, with past lovers. Something that made your muscles tighten, but never so focused.

Like he’s intentionally searching for this spot that makes sparks arc up your spine. Making you ache for more - to be filled by him.

“Mm,” He hums with satisfaction, “Right there. Does that feel good?”

It’s hard to think, with the thrust of his fingers. The circling pressure against your clit. Your own fingers curling - one in the sheets, an anchor. The other drifting up to cup at your breast, unable to help leaning into his ministrations.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

There’s an edge to his voice. One that he uses in his place of authority, one that only stokes the roaring flame in your belly. Everything winding tight in anticipation, each steady pump of his fingers hurtling you towards your peak.

“Yes,” You moan, “Yes. Oh, Harvey-”

His head dips, mouth pressing a kiss against your abdomen.

“Good girl.” He husks, with your answer. The words shoot straight to your cunt, just as you begin to arch into his touch.

“Oh, please-” You whine, eyes sliding shut, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The pinch of your fingers harsh against the tight bud of your nipple. The flicker of pain melding with the tight swirl of his thumb.

“Good.” He all but growls, the words low and rough in his throat, “Come on, honey. Show me.”

Your next moan turns high and long - as that tight string inside you finally snaps. A throbbing pleasure that begins at the apex of your thighs, radiating outwards as you bear down around him.

The hand in your sheets grasping and slipping on your way to him - his hand leaves your thigh to twine with it. Anchoring you as your hips buck into fingers that have gone still, giving you something to clench around.

“Just like that,” He coos, “Ride it out, I’ve got you.”

His breath warm against your skin, a kiss pressed to your stomach again, then hip.

“It’s not you,” Harvey tells you, each kiss moving lower, “You know that, right?”

Your breath catching - it feels like your cunt is still pulsing, when his mouth dips further. Not waiting for your answer this time - driving his point home with the talented tongue that suddenly presses against the bud of your clit, wet and warm.

Ensuring you won’t forget.

A moan is ripped from you, as he teases. Tight pointed licks, a flat lick following. A rough groan as he tastes your orgasm that coats his fingers, only just how beginning to move.

You’re too sensitive, squirming at his touch. Panting breaths and little jerks of your hips, the tight twist of overstimulation bleeding into something smooth and sweet as honey.

He’s ruining you for everyone else. The thought is a blurry one, something you can barely snatch. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’ve already come harder than you ever have.

And is already working you towards a second. A rough groan when you let your fingers leave his to twist in his dark curls. Grasping onto his shoulder with the other one, his shirt wrinkling further.

You want it off. You want all of it off, want him bare and on top of you. Want to taste him on your tongue. Taste yourself against his lips, after this.

Unsure how he’s able to do it. Bring you to the edge again so quickly, but maybe it’s because you’ve never desired someone like this.

Deeper than desire, though you’re not quite ready to admit it.

You’re brought back, as his palm presses beneath your thigh. Hiking it over a shoulder, opening you to be devoured. Those fingers more confident now, sure and slick as they pound into you. Louder now, with the way you coat them, your release smeared across your thighs.

This time when you come, it’s against his tongue.

Brought over with the way his lips close sound and suck. The way he groans at your taste, his clever fingers leaving you breathless.

Choking on your heartbeat as you shatter. His wide palm curled around your thigh, keeping your cunt pinned against his tongue.

This time he can feel your pulse. Each throb of pleasure as it resonates through you. Feel the way you gush for him - his fingers dampening further, across knuckles and the flesh of his palm.

“Fuck.” You moan, when you can breathe again.

You expect him to pull away, after this. He must know you’re more than ready. But instead all you can see is dark eyes, a tongue that slips between the fingers that are still buried in you.

“Harvey,” You gasp, as his tongue then lifts to curl over your clit again, “Don’t you want to-?”

Doesn’t he want to fuck you?

Isn’t he aching, like you are?

“Tonight is about you,” He answers firmly. Lips glossy with your release, and despite his words you don’t miss the way his hips press into the bed.

“Sounds like I got some time to make up for.”

Your head falls back onto the pillow as you huff a laugh, breath catching as you feel his fingers slip free just long enough to work in a third.

Already finding that spot again, as he begins to build towards a third.

If he can read you this easily already, you think dizzily…

You can’t wait to find out everything else he knows.

So here for the Harvey Renaissance 🙏💕 would love to know what you thought! Are you enjoying 1.6? (If so what are your mod recs???)

#just something fun #this was a wip from 2022 💀 but excited to come back to it!!#sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew valley Harvey x reader #sdv harvey imagine #stardew valley smut #sdv harvey

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urfavstargirl1 · 2 years

Text

rainy daze - an eddie munson one shot

eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie takes you back to his trailer on a rainy fall day to cuddle, watch movies, and makeout have fun

ao3 link

Cw: inexperienced!reader with strict parents, fluff, kissing, like ooey gooey fluff, teasing, rainy day hangs with bf!Eddie, meeting Wayne for the first time, nudity

You and Eddie had made plans to hang out after school today. You thought about going to the movies or hanging out at StarCourt, that is until the day finally arrived and by last period it still hadn’t stopped raining.

It was a cool autumn day and the rainfall was welcomed, but all it made you want to do was cuddle up on the couch to a movie and a box of pizza. But as long as you were with Eddie, you didn’t really care what you did.

You and Eddie had recently started dating. The circles you ran in overlapped and after having seen him at enough social functions, you got to talking and started getting closer till one day, it became just the two of you.

You had gone out on several dates and you were sure to become boyfriend and girlfriend soon, but he still hadn’t kissed you, yet. He definitely tried, but you were so nervous because of your lack of experience that anytime he tried to get close enough, you dodged his advances or made some excuse to avoid him.

You were worried he would start to think you weren’t interested in him in that way, which couldn’t be more wrong, but it was too embarrassing to admit the truth. For the time being, he was being respectful enough of your space, but the anticipation of things escalating was eating at you. You tried not to let the thoughts consume you too much. Today would be about spending time with Eddie and not putting any pressure on yourself to do anything you’re not ready for.

You and Eddie had passed notes between classes and agreed that he would meet you up at your locker after school and head over to his trailer to hang out. When your last class of the day let out, you eagerly skipped over to your locker. It was Friday, so you switched out some items you wouldn’t need for the weekend with items you did.

After being in the zone, deciding between books, a pair of arms slinks their way around your waist and a certain someone’s chin finds its place along your shoulder.

“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice cooes in your ear.

You jump slightly, not having heard him approach. You turn your head slightly and see his beautiful brown eyes lovingly gaze into yours. You press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Hi Eddie.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, just need to get some things from my locker,” you say as you pack up the remaining items into your backpack.

Eddie squeezes you tighter, making you giggle. He presses a kiss to your temple, with an audible, “mwah”, before unraveling his arms.

You close the locker door and zip up your backpack. Before you can even sling it over your shoulder, Eddie swipes it from you and slings it over his.

You scoff, “Eddie, I can carry my own backpack.”

“Yeah, I know. Wouldn’t want those precious little arms of yours getting tired though,” Eddie explains as he wiggles his fingers along your arms, making you laugh from the ticklish sensation.

“C’mon,” Eddie leads and the two of you start walking down the hall, walking across the rest of Hawkins High to get to the student parking lot.

“How was your day sweetheart?” Eddie asks as he wraps an arm around your waist. You reciprocate the gesture and lean into his touch.

“It was good. The heater wasn’t working in half of my classes so it was kind of cold. But, in my English class I got that essay I was really stressed about back and I ended up getting a B+ on it!”

“Hey look at you, my smart girl. I told you you’d do great on it.” Eddie cheers as he looks down at you.

“Thanks Eddie,” you blush, “How was your day?”

“It was alright. I was practically army crawling my way through a test in Ms.O’Donnell’s class.”

“Oh, no! That bad?”

“Yeah, it’s whatever though. And then some of the guys from Hellfire club wanted to hang out tonight but I told them I couldn’t. Already made plans with my girl.”

“Your girl,” you smirk at him teasingly.

Suddenly, a large clap of thunder roars outside, slightly rattling the lights hanging overhead.

“That can’t be good,” you say worriedly. There aren’t any windows in the halls, so you have no idea how bad the weather is outside.

“It’s ok darling, you’re safe with me,” Eddie nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

You continue walking with Eddie and as you reach the main doors you see a heavy rain pouring outside. You look at Eddie with concern. A flash of lighting splays across the dark clouds. The rain comes down harder and faster, making it hard to see past a few yards.

You consider waiting out the storm. It’s been raining all day, but not like this. Maybe the intense part will pass soon. You and Eddie decide to wait around a bit to test the theory. You lean against the wall, Eddie caging you in with his arms. You talk about little things to pass the time, twirling your finger in his hair or tracing your fingers along his arms.

At a certain point, a few of the Hellfire boys run into you and say hi to Eddie. They tease him for ditching them for you, but Eddie gives it to them right back and you smile at the boyish camaraderie.

After twenty or thirty minutes have passed, the rain barely slows down. It was still coming down hard, but you could at least see further into the horizon. Eddie’s stomach begins to rumble and you look up at him. You reach forward and rub your hand along the fabric covering the taut skin.

“Are you hungry?”

Eddie nods and exhales through his nose, “Yeah, little bit.”

You look out the window. “Should we just chance it and get out of here? I don’t think the rain is gonna slow down anytime soon.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Will you be okay to drive in the rain like this?”

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” Eddie smiles as you brush your fingers through his bangs. “I’m parked all the way at the edge of the lot though. Up for a little adventure?”

“Always,” you wink.

Eddie grabs your hand and leads you to the door, “Ready to make a run for it?”

You nod and the two of you run out the door and across the parking lot. You dodge a few other students waiting under their umbrellas or cars slowly milling about the parking lot. You bolt across the lot, splashing in the newly formed puddles.

You shriek as you feel your Converse submerge completely in one particularly deep puddle. As you keep running, you feel the rain dampen your sweater and jeans. The cold water pelting against your skin. Eddie holds your hand tightly as you two run in the pouring rain.

By the time you make it inside the van, both of your clothes are drenched. Your hair drips with water along the seats.

“Eddie,” You whine as you laugh at the sight of his hair clinging to his pale skin. He runs a finger through his hair and it flops back down. Little droplets of water hang off his nose and eyelashes. You lean over and press a kiss on his cheek, hand cupping it afterward. He smiles down at you.

“We’re soaking wet,” You say as you feel a shiver run through your skin, “And it’s cold.”

Eddie removes your hand and thumb rubbing over his cheek and presses his lips to the back of your hand. Eddie starts the car and maneuvers the buttons on the dash to turn on the heater.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll get us somewhere warm and dry,” he says as he looks in the rearview mirror.

He expertly pulls out of the parking lot and carefully makes his way to the main road. As they travel further away from the school, the rain dulls to an incessant pitter patter along the car windows.

Black Sabbath plays along the van sound system. The slower songs paired with the gloomy skies outside and the white noise of the raindrops along the glass lull you to a light sleep. When Eddie notices, he looks over at you and smiles in awe.

When you arrive at the trailer, the rain is still pouring, but the skies aren’t as dark or tinged with strikes of lighting.

Eddie nudges you awake and you flutter your eyes open.

“We’re here sweetheart,” he says and you adjust to your new surroundings. You stretch out your arms and unbuckle your seatbelt.

You both rush outside and Eddie opens the door for you. You step through carefully, not wanting to drag in any water or mud.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Eddie calls out from behind you. You look up and see an older man with gray hair and a gray mustache sitting on the couch in front of you. “I brought someone over.”

“You two get caught in the rain?” Wayne asks as he lifts himself up from the couch.

You’ve been over to the trailer before but Wayne was usually out at work. Your eyes widen at the realization that you’re going to be meeting Eddie’s uncle for the first time, in a state like this no less.

“Yeah we did. Y/N this is my Uncle Wayne. Uncle Wayne this is Y/N,” Eddie announces as he shuts the door and takes off his shoes.

Wayne stands in front of you, “So this is the famous Y/N I've been hearing so much about.”

Your eyes widen and you look over at Eddie who’s shaking off his jacket.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Munson,” you greet with a smile as you reach out to shake his hand.

“Please, Mr. Munson was my father, call me Wayne,” Wayne smiles.

Out of respect, you know you probably will not be calling him Wayne but you nod as if you will.

“I apologize for showing up unannounced. The rain kind of put a damper on our plans.”

“No worries dear, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you sir.” You smile at him.

“I did some grocery shopping earlier so the two of you are more than welcome to anything in the kitchen,” Wayne looks from you to Eddie before making his way back to the couch.

Eddie nods and you thank Wayne again. You look at Eddie pointedly and whisper, “Eddie, say thanks to your uncle.”

“What? It’s fine. I don’t need to–”

“Yes you do. It’s the polite thing to do.”

Eddie exhales, “Thanks Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne chuckles and smiles at the two of you, “No problem son. I head out for work later so make yourselves at home.”

“C’mon,” Eddie grumbles as you remove your shoes.

Eddie leads you over to his room and starts rummaging through his drawers.

He gives you a messy pile of clothes, “Here, you can change into these.”

You look up into his eyes and briefly scan the room. “Um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom”

Eddie slightly cocks his head to the side and frowns, “Okay”

You make your way into the small bathroom. You turn the fluorescent light on and close the door behind you. You lock it and proceed to look at yourself in the murky mirror. Your makeup miraculously hasn’t been ruined, but your hair is wet like you just got out of the shower.

You slowly peel off your soaking wet sweater and wring it out in the sink. You search around for a towel and find an extra one under the sink. You dab at your cold wet skin and shiver from the exposure to the air. Your bra is slightly damp, but dry enough to keep on.

You place the faded black tee shirt with a gray skull and skeletons that says black sabbath underneath on. The worn cotton feels warm and dry on your smooth skin. You bring the collar to your nose and smile as you breathe in the scent.

Just like Eddie.

You peel off your socks and jeans. The chafing of the wet raw denim against your skin leaves it smooth and cold. You pat down your legs with the towel and unfold the other garment he gave you. The black and white checkered bottoms appear to be what you can only assume are boxer shorts.

The thought of wearing them brings a nervous flush to your face. Even though they’re presumably clean, these are the sort of thing that Eddie probably wears as underwear which feels incredibly intimate to wear now, even over your own underwear.

You take a deep breath in and put them on anyway, not having much of a choice in terms of dry clothing. You look at yourself in the mirror once more. If you would’ve known a month ago that you would be standing in Eddie Munson’s bathroom, wearing his clothing, you might have laughed at the thought, but now, here you are, nervously giddy about it all.

You move over and drape your wet clothing flat along the bathtub. You gather the towel and use it to wring out and dry off the rest of your hair. When you’re finally satisfied with your appearance, you walk out of the bathroom and slowly pad your way over to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie,” You softly call out, “I’m done with the bath…room.”

You stop short in the doorway as you see Eddie’s bareback. He’s fixing his hair in the mirror across from the doorway while wearing nothing but flannel pajama pants.

You’re frozen in place as you see the muscles contract with every movement of his arms. Eddie spots you in the reflection and smiles, gaze lingering at the exposed skin of your legs. You cross one arm across your stomach to grab onto the other arm.

He turns around and walks over to you. Your gaze travels to his smooth chest and soft stomach and all the tattoos that adorn his milky skin in between.

“Hey sweetheart, are the clothes okay?” He asks as he brings you in for a hug. Your cheek pressed against the surprisingly warm and dry skin of his chest. God does he feel good.

You nod and hum as you nuzzle your cheek against his chest. “Mhm.”

Eddie chuckles and you can feel it vibrate in his body. You pull away slightly and smile up at him.

“You can keep the shirt, you know.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, you’re my girl, you deserve to have my favorite sabbath shirt.”

“Oh,” you whisper with wide eyes, realizing the implications of his words. “Thanks Eddie.”

“You feeling better sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” You nod as Eddie walks past you toward the door way.

“By the way, I used one of the towels from under the sink,” You say, thinking Eddie was going to the bathroom.

“That’s okay,” he replies and shuts the door to his room.

You gulp. A shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not from the cold. In fact, your skin is ablaze and without looking in the mirror, is presumably red from the way it feels.

“Your uncle let’s you bring girls over? And allows you to be alone with them in your room? With the door closed?” You ask as Eddie opens the doors to his closet and searches through it.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. When you put it like that.”

You don't want to state the obvious, but dear god is it astounding to you that something like this is happening. That something like this is possible for other people because there is no way in hell anything like this could transpire under your parent’s roof.

A loud clap of thunder fills the air and you jump slightly from the noise. Eddie looks over at you and you press your lips together to force a smile.

He walks over to you and places his hands on you shoulders. The sight of his damp hair and uncovered skin paired with his proximity is intoxicating. You feel like you can hardly breathe or might pass out. You try to focus instead on his big puppy dog brown eyes.

“You okay?”

You nod. Eddie’s eyes move to the bed next to you. “C’mon.”

He lets go and walks over to the side of the bed. He climbs onto it and you can see the lines of his muscles flexing as he does so. He sits against the bedframe and the skin of his stomach settles into adorable lines.

Your feet are glued to the ground as you observe Eddie. He seems so comfortable. How could anyone be comfortable in the presence of someone of the opposite sex? How could anyone be so comfortable in such an intimate setting?

“C’mere,” Eddie says as he pats the space next to him.

Eddie wants you to be on the bed… with him?

You slowly make your way over, because you do want to be on the bed with him too, but it’s so nerve wracking. You walk to the other side of the bed and stare at it blankly.

“C’mon,” Eddie coaxes as he peels back the comforter and runs his hand along the sheets.

You gulps and climb onto the bed. You sit down, with your back against the headboard, at a respectable distance from him. You avoid his gaze and close your eyes, taking a deep breath in. You try to calm yourself down and pray that Eddie can’t hear how loud and fast your heart is racing.

“Why are you so far away?” Eddie pouts, outstretching his arms, opening and closing his grabby hands to scoop you up and bring you closer to him. “C’mere.”

You open your eyes and look at him nervously. Your legs drape over his lap and he runs his fingers along your shins.

Eddie just his bottom lip out, “Am I that scary you want to be so far away?”

“No I just—“

“I promise I won’t bite,” Eddie says and leans forward lips inches away from yours, “unless you want me to.”

You gasp and look at his shit eating grin with wide eyes.

Your lashes flutter rapidly and heat spreads through your chest. You shake your head and run your hand over your face. He’s so close you can smell him. That mixture of musk emanating from his bare skin, cigarette smoke from the nearby ashtray, and mint on his breath is altogether intoxicating.

“I just want to be close to you, is that okay?”

You peek at him between your fingers. Eddie gingerly brushes his fingers along your own and slowly peels them away. He holds them in his own between your laps.

“Are you okay?”

You look down at your lap. Your brows furrowed in concentration. How do you tell someone that their presence makes you nervous? How do you reconcile the fact that you want to touch someone so badly but feel some unknown force won’t let you.

“Yeah,” You reply.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you say in a high pitch, “Um just nervous I guess.”

“Nervous? Why's that?”

You look up at him and cocks a brow. You flicker your eyes up and down his torso. You wave your hand and look around the room, “I mean look at us.”

Eddie raises a brow, “What about it?”

“I know this might be normal for you but this is not normal for me.”

“I know, but you’re doing so well.” Eddys ducks his head down slightly and peers up at her. She looks into his precious pleading brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You wave a hand in front of his face.

“Like what?” He smugly grins.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You’re doing it right now!”

“I really don’t Y/N”

You huffs, “You know the look Eddie. The soft dazzling eyes. The pouty expressive lips.”

Eddie smirks and you scowl.

“You know why I do it?” Eddie leans closer

You jerk your head back slightly and look at him in confusion.

“I do it because I know how much you like it.”

You scoff, “What? Who says I like any of it? You must be out of your mind Munson.”

You press your pointer finger to his forehead to push it away, but Eddie grabs your hand by the wrist and turns it so your palm faces you. He brings your hand to your chest right above your heart.

“Oh yeah? Then what else could be making your heart beat like that?”

You’re frozen in Eddie’s touch. How could he possibly know?

“What else could bring such an adorable pink flush to those sweet little cheeks,” he says as he cups your face.

You smile at the touch, flustered by his observation but touched by his care.

You look up at him and he’s looking down at you with adoration.

“What’s going on princess,” he whispers as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He asks as his hand drops down to your waist. He rubs circles with his thumb over the fabric of your new shirt.

You furrow your brows in concentration, figuring out the right thing to say.

“I…I like being here with you. And being like this,” You gesture towards your intertwined ligaments, “It’s just really new for me though. It can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

“That’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with, we can do that. Just say the word and I’ll do anything you ask.”

You gaze into his eyes and see a deep sincerity.

“That means if you want me close,” He leans so far forward that your foreheads and noses touch but both your eyes are open so his look like they merge into one and the sight makes you giggle, “Then I can be close.”

He pulls away and leans dramatically backward. In a silly voice he says, “And if you want me far I can be far away.”

You lean over and grab him by the shoulders, pulling him back to you. You smile as you look into his eyes and whisper, “Close… I want you close.”

He shifts his torso to face you, “Yeah? How close?”

He presses his weight onto one hand and uses his upper body strength to climb on top of you. You shift your body down the mattress so you lie down with your head resting on the pillow.

His body hovers above you, arms fully outstretched and locked as if he were about to do a pushup. “This close?”

“Closer,” you giggle.

He leans forward a few inches. “This close?”

“Closer,” you whisper.

And suddenly, like a switch flipped on, you need Eddie. You need every inch of his skin to be touching every inch of your skin. You need the weight of his body on yours. You need your fingers to comb through the waves of that luscious head of hair. You need… Eddie’s lips on yours. And you need it right now.

“Like this?” Eddie asks, this time, close enough that his lips brush yours with every word he speaks.

He’s far enough away that you can still look at him and lock eyes with him.

“Closer,” you whisper before fluttering your eyelids close and letting Eddie close the distance between you. He leans down and presses the weight of his body against yours. He brushes a gentle kiss to your lips. The pressure is light letting you relish in the pillow softness of his lips.

He pulls away and goes back in for another kiss, this time with more pressure. Your hands crawl up to the sides of his head, fingers combing through his hair.

“More,” you whisper against his lips.

“Hm?” he pulls back and looks at you for confirmation.

Your fingers move down to the base of his throat. “I want more. I’m… I’m ready for more Eddie.”

Hunger takes over those big brown eyes you love, till it’s nothing but pupils blown out with lust.

“Ask and you shall receive princess,” Eddie whispers with a cocky grin before leaning down again.

He presses his lips against yours and he begins to move his lips. Instinctively, you move your lips against his. You let your lips explore his till their movement settles in on a perfect rhythm.

You bring your chest up to meet his and return your fingers to their rightful place between tufts of his hair. You pull lightly at the scalp, eliciting a groan from Eddie which vibrates its way into your own mouth. The sensation makes you let out a small gasp.

Eddie chuckles at the sound, admiring the way you’re enjoying yourself. He uses one hand to feel against your skin. He places his hand along your waist, squeezing it as he brings it closer to his own. You moan into the kiss and Eddie smiles.

“You like that?” Eddie asks between kisses.

“Mhm,” is the best response you’re capable of.

Once you’re at a comfortable pace, Eddie kicks things up a notch and starts swiping his tongue along your bottom lip. You gasp as the unexpected sensation, and Eddie uses the moment to gain entrance to your mouth. You imitate his movements and move your lips and tongue to explore his.

“God you taste so good,” You whine along his lips. Eddie smirks and deepens the kiss. Your lips become a game of touch and go, heat emanating from your skin. His touch is needy and fervent and yours is hungry and demanding.

But then Eddie begins to slow down the pace and you’re slightly confused. The confusion continues when Eddie pulls away. You whimper at the loss of contact till you feel it replaced by the touch of his lips along the skin of your cheek, then your jaw, and finally along your neck.

Eddie places sloppy kisses along your neck. His lips go down in an open mouthed kiss along your throat. He presses more kisses in various spots till a certain one elicits a particularly loud gasp from your throat.

You look at Eddie, chest heaving at your breathlessness. He smiles determinedly before returning back to that same place and putting another open-mouthed kiss along it. A moan threatens to bubble up in your throat, but you push it down.

“Wanna hear you,” Eddie mumbles along your skin before he begins nipping at the sensitive spot. He licks a stripe and begins sucking at the spot.

You faintly gasp, picking up on what he’s doing.

“Eddie,” you breathlessly call out. He hums along your skin in acknowledgment.

“Are you giving me a hickey?”

He looks up at you, eyes glossy and in a daze, “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

“It feels good, but what if someone sees it?”

Eddie presses a light kiss to the spot on your neck that hasn’t been touched enough for a bruise to form yet.

“That’s kinda the point baby. Want everyone to know who you belong to.” Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips.

“No, I mean like, what if my parents see. I can’t exactly hide it when it's all the way up here,” you point to the area on your neck.

“Guess I’ll just have to choose some more prime real estate,” he teases.

He kisses you and you two make out for a little while longer before Eddie asks if he can take off your shirt. When you let him, you feel like something shifts. Like he’s not just seeing a new side of you, but you're seeing a new side of him too and even a new side of yourself.

The feeling of his skin on yours is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It feels so perfect to be touching him in this way. And while you’ve never gotten a hickey before, you feel somewhat proud and excited at having many to wake up to on your chest tomorrow morning. You’ll just need to make sure to wear a high collared top at home.

You spent the rest of the afternoon and evening making out with Eddie. At a certain point, the rain slows down and you don’t even register that Wayne has gone till you go out to the living room and call to order a pizza.

You and Eddie hang out on the couch and watch a scary movie as the sun sets. You lay down on him, with a blanket draped over your bodies. You kiss him at any and all random moments. You’re thrilled at the fact that you can now kiss Eddie Munson at any moment you desire which now feels like every waking second.

After the pizza arrives and you’ve downed the majority of the box, saving a few slices for Wayne, you go back to his room to mess around even more. Despite being nervous before, you were glad you took the leap of faith and went to that next level with Eddie.

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fozmeadows · 3 months

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As someone who hasn't read the works of radical feminists like Simone de Beauvoir, could you explain what's wrong and what bothers you about biological essentialism? I'm curious about your opinion after reading your post on radfems (and I'd like a perspective that isn't so based on biological gender essentialism, which I honestly have a hard time moving away from because I don't understand other perspectives well). 👀

The problem with biological essentialism is that purports to answer the eternally unanswered question of nature vs nurture in a wholly one-dimensional way - ie, with biological sex as The Single Most Important Aspect Of Personhood, regardless of any other considerations - while simultaneously ignoring the fact that biological sex is not, in fact, a binary proposition. We've learned in recent decades, for instance, that intersex conditions are much more common and wide-ranging than previously thought, not because scientists have arbitrarily changed the definitions of what counts as an intersex condition, but because our understanding of hormones, chromosomes, karyotpying and other physical permutations has expanded sufficiently to merit the shift. So right away, the idea that humanity is composed of Biological Men and Biological Women with absolutely no ambiguities, overlap or middle ground simply isn't true. Inevitably, though, if you mention this, people with a vested interest in biological essentialism become immediately defensive. They'll start saying things like, oh, but that's only a tiny minority of the population, they're outliers, they don't count, as though their argument doesn't derive its claim to authority from a presumed universality. To use a well-worn example, redheads are also a tiny minority of the population, but that doesn't mean we exclude them when talking about the range of natural human hair colours. But the fact is, even if humans lacked chromosomal diversity beyond XX/XY; even if there were no cases of cis men with internal ovaries or cis women with internal testes or people with ambiguous genitalia - and let's be clear: all of these things exist - the fact is, our individual hormones are in flux throughout our lives.

There are standard ranges for estrogen and testosterone in men and women (which, again, vary according to age and some other factors), but two cis men of the same age and background could still have completely different T-counts, for instance - meaning, even the supposed universal gender factor isn't universal at all. More, while our hormones certainly play a major role in our moods and cognition, so do a ton of other genetic and bodily factors that have nothing to do with the sex we're assigned at birth - and on top of that, there's nurture: the cultural contexts in which we're raised, plus our more individual experiences of living in the world. One of the most common, everyday (and yet completely bullshit) permutations of biological essentialism comes when parents or would-be parents talk about their reasons for wanting a son or a daughter. Very often, there's a strong play to stereotypical assumptions about shared interests and personalities: I want a son to play football with me, for instance, or: I want a daughter to be my shopping buddy. But even within the most mainstream channels of cishet culture, it's understood that these hopes are not, in fact, grounded in any sort of biological certainty. The dad who wants a sporty son might be just as likely to end up with a bookworm, while the mother who wants a little princess might find herself with a tomboy. We know this, and our stories know this! For the entirety of human history - for as long as we've been writing about ourselves - we have records of parental disappointment in the failure of this child or that to embody what's expected of them, gender-wise. More than that: if biological essentialism was real - if men were only and ever One Type Of Man, and women were only and ever One Type Of Woman, with recent progressive moments the sole anonymous blip in an otherwise uniform historical standard - then why is there so much disparity and disagreement throughout human history as to what those roles are? The general conception of women espoused in medieval France is thoroughly different to that espoused in pre-colonial Malawi, for instance, and yet we're meant to believe that there's some innate Gender Template guiding all human beings to behave in accordance with a set, immutable biological binary? And that's before you factor in the broad and fascinating history of trans and nonbinary people throughout history - because despite what TERFs and conservative alarmists have to say on the matter, our records of trans people, and of societies in which various trans and nonbinary identities were widely understood (if not always accepted), are ancient. We know about trans priestesses from thousands of years before Christ; the Talmud has terms describing eight different genders, and those are just two examples. All over the world, all throughout history, different cultures have developed radically different concepts of femininity and masculinity, to say nothing of designations outside of, overlapping with or in between those categories - socially, legally, behaviourally, sexually - and yet we're meant to believe that biology is at all times nudging us towards a set, ideal gender template? There's a lot more I could say, but ultimately, the point is this: people are different. While some aspects of our personhood are inevitably influenced by genetics, hormones, chromosomes and other biological factors, we're also creatures of culture and change and interpersonal experience. The idea that men and women are fundamentally different, even diametrically opposed, at a biological level - that the major separator in terms of our personalities and interests isn't culture, upbringing and personal taste, but what's between our legs - is just... so reductive, and so inaccurate.

We can absolutely have common experiences on the basis of a shared gender, but gender is not the only possible axis of commonality between two people, let alone the most salient one at all times, and the idea that we're all born on one side of an immutable biological equation that cannot possibly be transcended makes me feel insane. According to modern biological essentialism, intersex, trans and nonbinary people are either monstrous, mistakes or imaginary; all men are fundamentally predisposed to violence, all women are designed for motherhood, and we're meant to just hew to our designated places - which, conveniently, tend to echo a very specific form of Christian ideology, but which in any case manifestly fail to account for how variedly gender has been presented throughout history. It's nuts.

#foz answers things #gender #feminism #biological essentialism #history #sociology

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 18 days

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Am I the asshole for saying I prefer to date autistic people?

🐑🐑

So, I am not autistic. I am diagnosed with ADHD and BPD and it can be somewhat similar to autism, but not quite.

A majority, if not all, of my friends are autistic. Including my best friend who I love more than anything, so, I’m constantly surrounded by people on the spectrum.

A few days ago, this subject came up in a discord server I’m in and I explained that I, even as an allistic person, prefer to date autistic people because it’s more comfortable for me. I have some theories as to why this is, but I just get along with people on the spectrum way better than with allistic people.

I think it’s mostly that I struggle with reading people as well, but in a different way. My bpd just always makes me assume that people are pissed at me or don’t like me, but otherwise I do very well in social interactions. I don’t really have this problem with my friends, because they’re the type to tell me if I did something that makes them uncomfortable and then we’ll talk it out. Boom, problem solved.

I don’t like when people make a huge deal out of it and refuse to even tell me what’s wrong. It stresses me out severely, especially when I can clearly tell that something is wrong.

Plus most of my interests just tend to overlap with those of autistic people.

Also, I just want to make clear that autism goes far beyond struggling with social interactions or not recognizing sarcasm. And that those things aren’t even true for a lot of autistic people. Don’t worry, I’m aware of these things, I’m just trying to explain why I feel this way as briefly as possible.

But yeah, I just get along better with autistic people and they make me feel more at ease. When I explained this, one of the people on the discord server told me that’s ableist and fetishisizing. Keep in mind, I talked about it in a very innocent way.

I tried to explain that I’ve mostly only had positive experiences with autistic partners, because they didn’t treat me like a demon for having bpd and actually took the time to educate themselves about it and how to help me out when I need it. And I did the same for them in return. It was always a very loving and supportive relationship. Plus, I usually serve as the sarcasm translator for my friends and partner (I don’t have one atm), which I really enjoy doing.

The discord person said it just sounds weird and belittling, which was not my intention at all. Also, they’re not autistic either. Most of my autistic friends that I’ve talked about this with just agreed and told me it’s perfectly understandable.

But it’s still bothering me, so I just wanted to ask some other people. Just to get a feel for how this sort of statement comes across to others. I’d also love to hear from autistic people!

(please don’t try to diagnose me with autism, I’ve gone through multiple tests and it’s very clear that I’m not on the spectrum)

tl;dr - I, an allistic guy, said I prefer autistic partners because it’s more comfortable for me and another allistic person said it’s weird and ableist.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ftmtftm · 3 months

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Can you talk a bit about tme/tma? I know what the terms mean, and I'm aware of the discourse surrounding them, but I still haven't decided how I feel about them. On one hand it's useful to have a term for someone who experiences transmisogyny as it tells you how valuable their input on the conversation may be compared to someone who doesn't, but on the other hand "tma" seems to just mean "transfem" in most contexts (they're not synonyms but if you claim you're tma while not being transfem you seem to attract suspicion/people won't believe you) and it seems reductive to claim that no one who isn't transfem doesn't experience transmisogyny (or their insight can be completely ignored)

Yeah I totally can because I have extremely strong feelings about them.

I think TMA and TME are functionally useless terms because people use them to mean "trans fem and not trans fem" or "AMAB and AFAB" with a different coat of paint. The way they are functionally used is as a new, useless, racist, intersexist, gender binary to for binary trans people to shove nonbinary people into and to shut down non-White and intersex perspectives in the trans community.

TMA as a term could potentially be an interesting vehicle to talk about a number of well deserving topics of discussion like the way transmisogyny crosses into racism - because Black cis and/or intersex women are often subjects of an intersection of transmisogyny and racism - but it's not. (Because it's born out of White Transfeminism and operates under a view of gender and race as completely separate axies of oppression and doesn't account for where they overlap)

EDIT to add more: But TMA could also be used as a vehicle for discussions on the overlap between transmisogyny and intersexism - my mind immediately goes to someone like @.dabwax who I've been following for years now and is an intersex lesbian with a beard who is regularly subject to transmisogyny - but it's not. (Because it's born out of Intersexist Transfeminism and operates under a view of trans issues and intersex issues as completely separate axies of oppression and doesn't account for where they overlap)

Even then, I think TME is the truly useless term because what is it's function beyond creating a division? What is it's function beyond shutting down a conversation that could actually potentially build a bridge of understanding between trans experiences? Because transmisogyny is not a solid wall of bigotry that zeroes in on every trans woman and only every trans woman, as previously stated. There is no easily defined category of people who aren't targeted or impacted by transmisogyny because there is no form of bigotry that can be so cleanly defined.

You don't have to be part of an oppressed group to be targeted by the same kind of bigotry that also impacts them. So if someone experiences transmisogyny they can just... Talk about it. Trans women and fems are absolutely placed in a powerless position within our society and within the queer community as a whole, but I don't think functionally creating another racist, intersexist, gender binary is actually going to help anyone besides the most advantaged White, perisex, etc. trans people.

So ultimately I think they're kind of silly and unsuccessful in their intended purpose because they are narrow and born out of defensive, exclusionary rhetoric and behavior. At least they are under the lense in which I view and understand the world and systems of oppression and bigotry.

#asks #anon #tma #tme #long post /

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smallhorizons · 9 months

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I find it very interesting when people who vehemently deny or belittle the existence of transmisandry/transandrophobia/anti-transmasculinity (whatever phrase you prefer) … do believe in butchphobia and talk about specific anti-butch oppression & prejudice

How do you not understand that anti-transmasculinity & butchphobia are Basically the Same Thing? How can you acknowledge the need for there to be a specific word for butches to talk about their oppression, but accuse trans men of being whiny babies or men’s rights activists for trying to coin a word to describe their (extremely similar!!) experiences

How do you not understand that anti-transmasculinity & butchphobia are overlapping circles on a Venn diagram?

I genuinely do not understand the thought process here

#transandrophobia #Osiris rambles on

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blackopals-world · 1 year

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"The Colors I Understand"

Blind!femYuu x Dorm Leaders

Yuu can't see colors but she still knows what they are.

Riddle- Red

"Red." Yuu said to herself as she bit into a strawberry "I'm certain."

Riddle's gaze flickered up from his teacup to Yuu who gazed blankly forward. Her lips tilted downward.

"What did you say?" He was confused.

"I feel red." She said again.

"You feel a color?" Riddle asked.

"Do you not?" She asked " You are very red."

Riddle couldn't argue, he was in fact red. Everything around here was red.

"I suppose." He said simply still not understanding how she would understanding the concept of colors.

"Red is heat like the sun. The feeling of a burn. The heat on your face from anger. The feeling of embarrassment. Red is sweet though like the smell of roses or the taste of strawberries and chocolate." Yuu explained.

"Oh, you mean you like the strawberries?" Riddle asked placing a few more fruits on her plate.

Riddle didn't want to come off as the negative parts of being "red". He never yelled around her and kept his voice calm. She would get startled so easily otherwise.

"Yes, but I like red. I feel red when I'm with you. Warm and sweet." Yuu smiled taking a sip of her lukewarm tea.

"I-i feel red too." Riddle blushed.

Leona-Orange

Leona recognized the weakness in Yuu but never talked about it. She was blind but she was still a person. He had no interest in toeing the line around her.

She didn't need to be treated like a doll.

Still, for some reason, he let her do as she pleased. When he napped in the greenhouse he let her cling to him. She enjoyed stroking his ears.

"Orange." Yuu said softly as she buried her cheek into Leona's shoulder.

The lion didn't bother to ask as he grunted in response

"You are orange." She mumbled sleepily. "Not mild, intense, but warm. Like a tropical day. It sounds loud and chaotic. It tastes like orange, sweet but tart. Stinging but good."

If Leona heard he didn't respond but he did pull Yuu down to nap properly with him. He didn't admit that he was purring happily.

Azul-Gray

Dining with Yuu was always am interesting experience. She had a palette unlike anyone else's. She can't judge based on appearances.

"Glass at 2:00 north." Azul said placing Yuu's cup back on the table after refilling it. He had read a guide about eating while visually impaired after an awkward lunch together.

Yuu smiled warmly. At some point during dinner their hands overlapped while they talked.

"Grey." She said thoughtfully to herself.

Azul's quickly looked at his plate to check if the meat had gone bad before remembering the Yuu wouldn't be able to see if it was.

"Sorry, I was just thinking out loud. I just thought you remind me of gray. At first, I thought blue but it's grey." Yuu explained " Not in the way they say boring. You're like a foggy mist or the air after a storm. The scent of ozone. A secure silence. A compromise between extremes. A brokered peace. The steady beat of a metronome or ticking clock. The comfort of a constant place of rest."

Azul took in her words as he held her hand and gently stroked his thumb across her knuckles.

"I see...so why not blue?" He asked.

"You are blue as well. Like when I put my hand in the ocean and it feels cool. Calming and relaxing. But that isn't enough to describe how I feel about you. I like grey."

"You know, I like grey too." Azul smiled, she had no idea that her eyes where that very same color.

Kalim-Yellow

"I like yellow." Yuu said as she sifted her hands through the sand.

Kalim immediately turned to see her from his spot on the lounge chair. They were spending the day at the oasis having their own little beach day. Unfortunately, Kalim didn't know that Yuu didn't like swimming.

She liked the water but would never go further than her hip in the water. She was too nervous to swim even when her peers who also had impaired vision would love the pool.

Kalim tried not to sound too embarrassed but he had a habit of not considering Yuu's needs. Like when he invited her to a party and set off fireworks too close to her. She left almost immediately. She didn't like wild parties or fireworks. He learned to be calmer and that they could still have fun together. Like today. They could still enjoy the water and play in the sand.

"You can see it?!" Kalim yelled esthetically as he rolled off his chair and onto the ground. Right onto Yuu's lap as she yelped.

"No. No. I can't." Yuu said pinching Kalim's cheek as soon as she figured out where his head was.

"Aww,sorrwy." He said apologetically. "But you identified the color of the sand. It's kind-of more yellow-ish."

"I was being more metaphorical."

"Like yellow in spirit?"

Yuu paused for a moment.

"Yes, yellow in spirit."

"What does yellow look like to you?" Kalim asked with wonder in his voice.

"It doesn't have a look. It has a feeling. It smells like mangos or lemons. It sounds like laughter and kids playing. The buzzing of bees The feeling of running against the wind. It tastes like lemonade with honey at a picnic. I like yellow." As she said this she had begun to bury Kalim in the sand.

Kalim listened obediently as she treated him like a corpse being put in a shallow grave.

When she finished burying him up to his head she pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading towards Jamil who was holding her lemonade.

"Are you going to dig me up?" He called.

"I can't find you, I'm blind." She joked.

Vil-Purple

"Did you get dressed in the dark potato?"Vil asked teasingly.

"Actually Vil, I did."Yuu returned the jab.

They had an interesting relationship. Vil is someone obsessed with appearances and Yuu can see said appearance.

Vil felt comfortable around her because when he feels at his worst she can't see it. He pitied her even when he knew he shouldn't. He relied so much more on his sight than on other senses and couldn't imagine being born without it.

Yuu didn't notice or care about her appearance. She relayed on textures instead when it came to clothes.

That being said Vil got her a gift, a silk dress.

"It's like you Villy. Purple." She said.

"Did someone spoil your surprise? Also, don't call me that." Vil said sternly as he heared Yuu giggle.

"No, it's just that it feels like you." Yuu corrected herself but couldn't convey what she meant.

"What?" Vil said with a raised brow.

"It's purple like you are. You know smooth, softer than expected. Rich and expensive. Deep and strong. Purple is like that. Cool to the touch. It smells like lavender and incense. It symbolizes pride and royalty. All of it is like you." Yuu ran her hands over the silk fabric enjoying the feeling.

"Naturally, it suits us well." Vil said giving Yuu a pat on the head for her appropriate praise.

He loved seeing how her head worked.

Idia- Black and White

Yuu was lost. She had a run-in with a bunch of jerks and got pushed off her usual path. She was still trying to reorientate at get back but she was completely lost. She couldn't even find her cane. The best she could do now was wait for someone to walk by to lead her back.

"Yuu-chan! I found your cane!" A familiar voice called. There were no footsteps but there was a low mechanical buzz.

Ortho.

"Ortho, thank god! Can you take me to the main hall?" Yuu reached out tentatively for her cane as Ortho came to a stop in front of her.

Her hand only met with Ortho's firey hair as he pressed against her for praising headpats.

Ortho ended up taking Yuu to class and sitting with her. He was a great aid. Yuu used a braille slate and stylus to take notes and recorded lectures. She wished she could also use online sources and could read more stuff in the library but even in a magic school was impossible. Professor Divus felt appalled by that fact but was firm about keeping Yuu from taking part in making potions.

If Ortho sensed Yuu's inconvenience he didn't say anything at the time.

Ortho was white to her. Like the clouds they tried to describe to her when she held pieces of cotton. Like blank unmarked paper, pure. The whistle of a cool wind rushing past her ears. The taste of fresh water at night. Full of potential and change.

Later the robot boy dragged Yuu to his dorm.

"Can you make Yuu-chan a braille tablet?" He asked.

"W-why? Did you have to come here for that?" Idia said panicked at the sudden intrusion. Even if she couldn't see him she probably didn't need to hear him. The less she sensed his presence the better. She probably had super hearing and stuff like that like in comic books.

Yuu felt nervous. Idia made her feel that way. It wasn't like she didn't like him. It's just she feels like she wants to cry when she sees him.

He was covered black. A heavy oppressive color. The sound of an echo in a cavern. The color of grief and solemn pain. Bad memories. Bitter food. Long silent nights. It was unsettling for her but she tried to understand.

It took time for Idia and Yuu to warm up to each other. After her tablet was finished they learned to play games together. Yuu was really good at rhythm games by listo the sounds.

The black that once scared her became something else. It felt comfortable like a heavy blanket at night. It tasted like dark chocolate, bitter and rich. Smelled like black coffee. And felt like the first few seconds of waking up in the early morning as she came out of a dream.

Black wasn't so bad.

Malleus- Green

"Not there!" Malleus cried pulling Yuu's hand away from a thorn. "You could hurt yourself. Can't we react at the gazebo?"

They had been on a walk and as always the dragon fea guarded her like a hawk.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to pick a few flowers." Yuu said hooking an arm on Malleus's as he escorted her to sit in the arching stone gazebo.

As she sat relaxing in the shade a leaf floated into the palm of her hand, as Malleus returned with an armful of rainbows of flowers. She curled her hands around it as she felt the waxy leaf.

"I love green." She smiled.

"Green? You can sense it?" He asked placing the bouquet down on the table.

"Can't you? Here." She reached out for Malleus's hand who obediently gave it to her like a puppy. She lightly placed the leaf in his palm and curled his fingers around it.

"It's green. You can feel it. I can smell the flowers you brought are green too." Yuu smiled.

"Oh, what else is green?" He asked.

"The sound of a river over rocks. Animals rustling in a bush. The sound of wind in the trees. The smell of grass. The taste of apples and tea. The feeling of going on a walk. The feeling of a calm day." Yuu picked up a flower and breathed in its scent "I love green, it's my favorite color."

Malleus grabbed Yuu's hand and placed it on his cheek.

"My eyes are green." He said pleading as he caressed her hand.

"Then they are probably the loveliest shade of green. I love them too." Yuu said softly as the dragon purred in delight.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #kalim x reader #idia shroud x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader #ortho shroud

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a-polite-melody · 6 months

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It’s interesting that, rather than wanting to see similarity in our experiences and solidarity, some trans people are invested in only ever separating trans men/mascs and trans women/fems to the point they will deny others’ experiences, regardless of identity, if it doesn’t fit their narrative, and sometimes even their own stated experiences. And it often has to do specifically with experiences surrounding perception of masculinity.

What I’m thinking about specifically right now is with the initial coining of and discussion around transunity.

There was, and continues to be in some instances, a push to separate “MTF” and “FTM” experiences from each other. There’s denial of the ability for transmisogyny and transandrophobia to have any overlap in techniques and targets.

And the most relevant to what I’m talking about, and most baffling to me? The people denying that part of the function of transphobia as a whole is forcibly assigning “male” or “female” or “gross other” to a trans person interchangeably depending on the point the transphobe is trying to make with the transphobia.

I don’t know why, my best guess is it’s because people don’t want to recon with facts that cause dysphoria, but people acted like trans people are actively seen and treated as their gender by everyone, including transphobes. The idea that trans women are only ever seen as lesser women—never as dangerous males—became commonplace. But then, it was also commonplace to see trans men the exact same way: failed women but never portrayed as dangerous males. Ignoring very real experiences of being masculinized as a trans person leading to mistreatment as well as mistreatment coming from being feminized.

Does this wrap back around to the radfem influence in online trans spaces? A specific focus on only feminine traits and eschewing of all things masculine? Maybe. I don’t know.

All I know is I can still find posts on my blog where people chime in and outright try to deny TERFs act that trans women are males as a part of their strategy, and I don’t get it.

#my post #kinda a vent because like #this has sat in my head since I first saw it a while ago #it’s been a little while #and I’d like to hope the sentiment hasn’t stuck around #but I have no idea #and something just brought it back up in my head so

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emeraldspiral · 8 months

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A venn diagram of the queer/neurodiverse content depicted in Invader Zim. I've already talked about the inherent queerness of Zim and mentioned a few times that there’s a big overlap with autism/neurodiversity but I thought this would make a handy reference. Note that “neurodiversity” isn’t just autism/ADD/ADHD but also includes mental illness, personality disorders, mood disorders, learning disabilities, and anything else that isn’t “neurotypical”.

On the queer side there is actual canon queer rep in the show and comics:

Irkens are canonically aroace and intersex.

Groyna from the comics was confirmed by Eric Trueheart to be a lesbian.

Commander Poki from the comics may be trans, as she has eyelashes normally only seen on female Irkens, but lacks the curled antenna every other female Irken is shown to possess.

Recap Kid's gender is deliberately ambiguous.

There are also many instances of queer-coding that can be seen throughout the show such as:

The homoerotic rivalry between Zim and Dib.

Red and Purple basically being Zim's two gay dads.

Zim and several other characters having campy and dramatic mannerisms.

Zim using Keef and Tak as beards.

Zim and GIR wearing make-up/cross-dressing and generally not concerning themselves with or even being aware of gender conformity.

That time Dib's personality was copied into the body of a female ship which became very distressed at being told it wasn't really a boy and changed its physical appearance to match its brain.

Other queer elements featured in the show include:

Female characters who aren't love interests/show no interest in romance.

Most characters showing a general lack of visible interest in the opposite sex or romance.

The Membranes being a non-traditional family (single dad with no mom, later acquiring two more dads in the form of Foodio and Clembrane). Irken society not being structured around family units at all.

Satirical depictions of nuclear family units (Zim’s roboparents).

Transhumanism.

Kink/Fetish content including tentacles, bondage, domination, tongues, sadism, mind-control, body morphing, gore, food/eating, bodily fluids/fluids in general, Giger-esque designs, etc…

On the Neurodiverse side we have:

Zim’s food sensitivity.

Zim’s germophobia.

Zim’s dislike of being touched or hugged.

Zim seeming to suffer from sensory issues in general.

Zim getting overstimulated on the bus in Walk of Doom.

Zim and Dib infodumping.

Zim’s idiosyncratic speech mannerisms.

Characters having high intellect paired with poor social skills/low emotional intelligence.

Hyperfixations and special interests.

Zim’s struggles with multi-tasking and keeping his priorities straight.

GIR being easily distracted and unable to focus on anything that doesn’t immediately interest him.

Characters having poor volume control.

Characters having mood swings or trouble regulating their emotions.

Zim’s issues with memory.

Dib hyperfocusing to the point of neglecting hygiene.

Zim’s “problem with listening”.

And in the middle where they overlap there’s:

Zim and Dib being outcasts, misunderstood by everyone around them, and only able to connect with other misfits like Gaz, GIR, Keef, each other, and random hobos.

Zim masking his otherness and putting on performative displays of “normalcy” and having a well-founded fear of the consequences of being discovered.

Dib being open about his otherness and looking for respect and acceptance in the face of overwhelming ridicule and contempt.

Dib being pressured by his father to conform in order to please him.

Dib finding that the social benefits of conformity aren’t enough to outweigh the pain of not being his authentic self in Mopiness of Doom.

Dib’s experiences and perspectives being trivialized, dismissed and medicalized as indicators of mental illness.

Dib actually being mentally ill, but only as a result of not being accepted or supported for being different.

The eugenicist dystopia of the Irken Empire, where Zim is labeled “defective” and sentenced to death rather than treated for the mental health issues caused by the society that created him.

Daddy issues/familial rejection/non-acceptance.

Zim and Dib’s struggles with depression.

Zim and Dib’s need to prove themselves to gain validation and acceptance.

Zim and Dib being victims of bullying and in turn bullying others to feel a sense of power.

Dib’s self-loathing.

Zim’s default state being paranoia and anxiety.

Zim and Dib’s self-image issues.

And of course the one thing that binds us all: alternative fashion.

#invader zim #zadr #zadf #zim #dib #dib membrane #gaz #gaz membrane #tak #invader tak #professor membrane #keef #almighty tallest

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thatlittleegyptologist · 1 year

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What are Hieroglyphs? - A Q&A from a Poll

I ran a poll last week to see what people most wanted to know about how Hieroglyphs and languages such as Old/Middle/Late Egyptian work. While certain responses had more of an interest, the most common tag/comment I was getting was 'umm all of them?'. So, I'm going to do just that, but under a cut, because no one needs a post that's going to be as long as this one is without choosing the colour of the sky. Trust me, this is colour of the sky long.

So, without further ado, these were the results of the poll (yeah it's not finished yet, really, but the percentages haven't moved in 4 days and the poll ends in about 12 hours so here we are):

I'll start with 'least interest' and move onto the bigger things, as some of these I can get out of the way pretty quickly. I'll apologise to screen readers in advance, because you might imagine how difficult it is going to be describe hieroglyphs in a way that makes any meaningful sense, especially if they're using different cultural concepts. So, here we go!

How long does it take to translate?

Honestly, it depends on the text, and to some extent the language I'm translating it from. For me, Late Egyptian is the easiest, so a text in Late Egyptian (with all that entails) is a breeze. Others will find Late Egyptian really difficult because that form of the language (used from the Amarna period onwards when the written language changed to reflect the spoken language...except on monuments and tombs which kept using Middle Egyptian) uses a lot of semitic loanwords and has differences in orthography (the way signs are laid out and spelt), as well as changes in grammar (moves to frontal exposition so all the markers come at the start of a sentence).

Once you're past the 'oh it's in a form of the language I like/hate' you're into 'what kind of bullshit is this text going to pull on me?' and that can be easy or nasty grammar, lots of spelling mistakes/no spelling mistakes, what kind of text it is like biographical (formulaic, tend to be easy) or literary (not formulaic, full of metaphors and strange sentence composition), or religious (formulaic, but *Chalmers pointing* Dear Lord what is happening in there?). You can get a formulaic biography that's nasty to deal with (Tjetji) or a 'I'm so full of metaphors that I can fight god' literary text that's actually pretty nice to deal with.

In any case, if we're talking about something longer than 5 lines of text we're talking hours to translate. It's not like the films where they just read it on the fly (though you can reach some level of that), you are going to need a notepad, a dictionary, and several hours. This obviously lessens the more experience you have.

Why are the signs so specific?

We're dealing with a language whose script communicates in what are essentially pictures with sounds. It's also an art form as well as a written script. This means that it can, through necessity, create a new sign to express something. More often than not, these signs are very specific, which means you don't see them all that often (hello religious texts again) or they've combined two signs together (overlapped them essentially) for space reasons and it's ended up as it's own sign eventually. I mean, if you had the ability between trying to use what you've already got, and drawing an entirely new sign that is literally a picture of what you want...you're gonna draw a picture. This is why you get the penis glyph. There was always going to be one because at least half the population has one. There are also tit hieroglyphs. Equal opportunities and all that. The tit ones have less applications though, sadly.

How do you remember all the values for all the signs?

I'm gonna be annoying and say: Practice

But it's true. Just like children learning to speak, it has to be repetition repetition repetition. The more you see it, the more you're exposed to it, the more likely you are to remember sign values. There are still some signs I have to look up because they never stick in my head, but mostly I'm able to transliterate very very easily. Once you've got sign values down, you're more likely to begin to recognise them in word groups, which means you're more likely to just know the words by sight. It is very much like learning to read. First you learn the letters T, H, & E, and then you learn that T, H, & E together spell the word 'the' and then you simply recognise the letter group as the word from then on. Same principle for hieroglyphs! Some people will be able to remember them effortlessly. Some people will never be able to remember them. It's all about how your brain works, so don't beat yourself up about it.

How do you work out the grammar?

*laughs nervously* erm....so y'know how I'm bad at remembering grammar? This is going to be a wild ride. In the simplest terms, there are markers within the Egyptian, just like we use certain endings (like '-ed' for the past tense or -ing for present action) or markers (! ? . , etc), so do the Egyptians. I'm not going to cover them all here because goddamn no one needs to know those unless they're actually learning the language and it would get LONG. But I'll show you at least the past tense, pronouns, some special markers called Particles, and prepositions.

Pronouns

Simple, yet important. These little guys come at the end of verbs (at least in Middle Egyptian). They have every pronoun we do except the singular 'they'. Now there are several different types of pronouns depending on whether they're the subject/object attached to a verb, or subject/object that are independent of the verb. This is where you get the 'suffix' (attached to the verb as the subject), dependent (not attached to the verb but related to it), and independent (come at the start of the sentence, not attached to the verb but still the subject. Usually Participial Statements have these). I'm only going to deal with the Suffix pronouns here because sweet jesus this is a whole chapter to itself in a normal grammar book and I'm not doing that. They look like this:

For other hieroglyph readers sake: I am of the school of hieroglyphs that uses =i instead of =j, and I don't use z for one of the s signs. That's why you're seeing that difference.

For the rest of you: Sometimes there are variants of types of signs for a pronoun, so I've listed them all. The most common one you'd see when translating is at the start of each entry.

As you can see, the pronouns are fairly distinctive in construction, especially when they come at the end of a verb in a sentence. The only ones that would give you any real issue would be the =n (we/our) and =t (she/her) pronouns. This is because they look like the 'past tense .n' and 'marker of the feminine verb .t' endings (sometimes they omit the plural strokes the =n 'our' pronoun and that's just not cool). When you're starting out, you essentially have to look at the context the word is in, and partially continue with the rest of the translation to see if a pronoun is there or it's a tense/feminine marker. Correctly identifying which one it is, is again down to experience. Thankfully this one is something you pick up pretty quickly, because your sentences won't make much sense otherwise.

An example of a pronoun in action is the following sentence:

You can see that the pronoun =k (you) comes after the verb 'sDm' to hear, and before the object of the sentence miw (cat). Any of the pronouns above can be inserted where =k is, and the sentence will read as necessary.

Prepositions

Prepositions often tell us where one noun is in relation to another (e.g., The coffee is on the table beside you). But they can also indicate more abstract ideas, such as purpose or contrast (e.g., We went for a walk despite the rain). Prepositions also indicate direction, time, location, and spatial relationships, as well as other abstract types of relationships. Just like we say 'the cat is on the mat' or 'the fox at the house', Middle Egyptian can do the same thing. Here's a list of prepositions:

These, of course, occur anywhere within a sentence in Middle Egyptian just like they would for English. They can also take pronouns like xr=f 'under him' in order to give a subject or object for the sentence. If you were translating and you saw one of these, you'd know that you were about to change direction/time/place or get more information on a relationship in that sentence.

I've constructed an example here:

MEg readers: There's probably supposed to be some sort of nominal -pw construction in the first sentence to get the 'is' sense, but it's late and I am le tired, so please ignore this potential glaring error. The gist of the sentence is at least right.

Everyone else: You can see I've used the prepositions xr 'under' and mi 'like' to construct this sentence. If I was translating this from the Egyptian, they would be the grammar markers that tell me something in the sentence has got or changed a location, or that it was a comparison. Basically, if you're looking at a word and it's not a verb/pronoun/adjective/noun, you're probably looking at a preposition.

Particles

These are tiny words, which don't always translate as anything, but give more meaning or information about a sentence. Basically, they have a grammatical function, but don't actually translate. In English the word 'to' performs this function, as it appears with many verbs 'to fly' 'to go' etc, but doesn't actually translate (yes, I'm aware 'to' can also be a preposition). I'll only deal with a couple of the more common particles here because there are a lot of them, and you don't need to know all of them.

iw is probably the most common particle. As far as we're aware it doesn't have a translation (there's debate), but it always comes at the beginning of a clause. We don't even know why they use it, because it's one of the particles that you get taught 'always comes at the beginning of a sentence/clause' but then once you learn more MEg (Middle Egyptian) you realise that it barely shows up at all. Anyway, the little guy looks like this:

In a sentence it looks like this:

This is a few lines from the Shipwrecked Sailor, a literary text from the Middle Kingdom. You can see the 'iw' particle used twice in this sentence and both times it does not impart any direct meaning to the translation, but it does tell us of a new clause.

ir is another particle that turns up semi regularly and has the meaning 'as for/if' depending on the context. The original context for it, is that it stemmed from the preposition 'r' 'to/from' (see table above) and evolved into its own usage. It looks like this:

So if you see it in a sentence before a noun like so:

ir will only translate as 'as for' when before a noun. That's how they mark that sort of grammar.

However, if 'ir' is before a verb, this happens:

The sense becomes 'if' when before a past or present tense, meaning the particle has express a conditional sense. If it was before something other than the past or present tense, the sentence would read entirely differently, and thus wouldn't have ir there in the first place. That's how we know to translate it that way. mutters something about the ir conditionals

Past Tense

I'm not sure I need to explain the past tense to most of you, but rest assured that Middle Egyptian also has the past tense. This can usually be identified by the .n ending after a verb, but before the pronoun. You might be sitting there saying 'wait, lottie. isn't the pronoun for 'we' also an 'n'?' and yeah you'd be right! It's all to do with context.

Let's take a very basic sentence:

You see the 'n' sign above the pronoun =i ? That's the .n of the past! It tells us that the verb preceding it, in this case sDm 'to hear', is being read as the past tense and thus we have to translate it with the -ed past tense ending in English. Yes, it does look very similar to the 'n' pronoun for 'we' (=n) and the preposition for 'to/for (a person)' (n). It's because they are all the same sign, they're just being read in different ways.

What do all the .'s, ='s, and brackets mean in transliteration?

So as I just showed you, the marker of the past tense is denoted with the water sign 'n' which is attached to a verb in transliteration using .n at the end. You've also seen me use the equals sign with the pronouns like =i. In Egyptology, at least, we use these symbols as a way to differentiate between different markers of grammar and basically make it easier to spot when we're just reading someone else's work. Say you've got sDm.n=n mdw r=k 'we heard the words concerning you'. Here are the glyphs:

You can see that sDm is easy to see (the ear reading sDm, and the owl reading m as a phonetic complement, forming the word) and then you've got two water symbols for n, and three vertical strokes. Now, as I've already shown you, the n of the past tense, and the n that's the pronoun for 'we' look pretty much the same, but you know they're different. However, when they're together in one sentence it makes them difficult to distinguish. In order to make them distinct when transliterating we use .'s for marking the endings of verbs be they tense markers or say the feminine .t ending. For pronouns we use ='s so that it's clear they're separate from both the verbs and grammar markers. Otherwise you'd end up with sDmnn mdw rk and it would really tell you absolutely nothing if you were reading it without the glyphs.

I should note at this point that some schools of Hieroglyph teaching use the . for both the verb ending marker and for the pronoun. So it'd look like sDm.n.n and that would be completely fine. I didn't learn this way, so I won't be using it. I'm just mentioning it here for the sake of completeness.

For brackets, I'll do a quick run through: … denotes a lacuna (a hole in the text) with no restoration, [ ] denotes a lacuna with restoration, < > denotes an omission made by the original scribe, whether intentional or accidental, and ( ) denotes a modern addition, usually in the translation to give proper English sense or to provide clarification. In cases where an Egyptian word is legible but the meaning is unclear, ___ denotes an unknown transliteration and a (?) denotes an uncertain translation.

How do you know where a word stops and another one begins?

Ahh the classic! This is a two parter: the first part is 'usually there's a sign that tells you' and the second part is 'more experience with hieroglyphs.' With experience you tend to learn how the most common words are formed, so you know what those look like and how they're spelt. This means that you tend to be able to pick those out of a sentence, and whatever is left must be a word/s you don't know. Over time you'll begin to realise what signs do and do not form words, so if you're trying to read a word and it doesn't make any sense you probably need to separate the signs you're looking at. It really is just practice and becoming more familiar with the language.

The other way, is learning how to spot what are called 'determinatives'. A determinative is a sign that helps to categorise a word without having any consonantal value. It’s just there at the end of a written word, like a man with hand to mouth at the end of the word ‘vomit’ in Egyptian tells the reader (most of whom were illiterate) that the word had something to do with something that comes from the mouth). Not every determinative has the same value as the word it’s written for, and some can even be metaphorical in nature. If I bring back the first sentence I used in this post 'You hear a cat' I can show you what a determinative looks like:

Since you know that sDm is the verb 'to hear' and =k is the pronoun for 'you', then miw must be the word for 'cat'. But there are 5 signs and only 3 consonant values in miw, which ones are we reading? The answer is the first three signs: the m 'owl' the i 'reed leaf' and the w 'quail chick'. So what about the last two signs: the seated cat and the pelt? Well those are the determinatives I told you about. They're part of the word, but they don't have any sound values. They're just there to tell us that the word is about a cat (seated cat!) and an animal (pelt!). Now I could have written the word miw 'cat' with just the seated cat sign, as that by itself has the 3-consonantal value of miw, but here, along with the pelt, it's just being used as a way to reinforce to the reader that this word is animal based and that animal is a feline.

It also helps that words in Egyptian tend to have no more than 2 or 3 consonants in them (some have 4, but they're not as common). So if you're transliterating and you've got a word you don't know that appears to have more consonants in it...you might want to take a look at it because you've probably added two words together, or joined the past tense marker or pronouns into the word you're looking at. In fact, knowing the grammar markers, and the pronouns, and what a determinative looks like is what helps you pick out the words more easily. It's sort of a process of elimination of words/grammar you do know, to see what's left and that's where you get the dictionary out and start looking things up.

I'm going to try my best here to show this in diagram form. Ideally, this would be done in person where I could write it on a board and go through it in real time, but since I can't do that I'll have to go with this:

This is an excerpt from the 'Dialogue Between a Man and His Ba' and you're looking at it going 'oh dear god'. So let's start by marking out where our words separate in blue:

So, these are all the words within this sentence, and I hope it at least shows you where the transliteration is following. However, how do I know this? You can see the pronouns in the transliteration marked with the ='s sign. I'll mark those in pink:

So you can see for four words in these two sentences they end with either the =f 'he' (second person masc.) or =i 'I' (first person masc.) pronouns. Those suffix pronouns only come at the end of words, so those must be the ends of those words, and what comes before is the word. Cool. So, what about determinatives in these sentences? Can seeing them help us see the end of any other words? I've marked them in green:

So, now you can see where the determinatives are. The walking legs determinatives noting a verb of 'motion' appear twice before pronouns, and that's fine, they're marking the end of the word where the pronoun goes anyway! Some of them don't though! The first set that don't are the Ra 'sun' symbol and the single stroke, which are determinatives for the word hrw 'day'. These determinatives are a) showing that the word hrw has something to do with the sun (passing of time), and there's only one of them (hence the single stroke). Thus we know this means 'day'. The next is the bird and plural strokes at the end of qsn.t 'suffering'. Plural strokes don't usually come in the middle of a word, so that helps us to identify the end of a word quite easily. The bird is what's known as the 'bin' or 'bad bird', which turns up as the determinative for words that have bad connotations (not always being used in a bad way though). In this case we have the word 'suffering', so the bad bird is here to tell us that. With those two together, it tells us this is the end of the word qsn.t. After the word 'gs' (meaning 'side') you can see I've highlighted the single stroke determinative. This is because that sign can also be read as 'm' like the owl sign in the sentence before it, and what they're using this sign to denote is that 'hey we're not dealing with a preposition here this is a noun!'. The last set are from the word nHnw 'praise singer'. You have the man with his hand to his mouth indicating that the word is something that comes from the mouth (in this case singing), and then the seated man is not a pronoun (this is one of those cases where you'll have to watch out in your translations!) but another determinative telling us that this is a 'person' word i.e. someone who does the action. Thus we translate it as 'praise singer' rather than 'praise singing'.

There are no tense markers, like the past, in these sentences so I'll skip that. There is another grammar marker of the .t ending in qsn.t, but that would require explaining an entirely different verb form and no one is here for that. I'm just noting it's there for people who can read this and are like 'girl there's one right there!' I know and I'm choosing not to perceive.

Anyway, the last things to look at are prepositions and particles. Do we have any of those in these sentences that could help us identify where words begin/end? I've marked prepositions in red and particles in yellow:

So we have one preposition and it's the preposition 'm' in/from. So we know, thanks to the pronoun before it that it doesn't belong to that word, and since 'm' as a preposition is a single sign, it can't belong to the next signs. Then we have the two particles. One is right at the start and is the 'iw' particle that has no written meaning. It's at the beginning, so we know that this is the opening to a clause and therefore the signs that precede it in the text (which aren't shown here) don't belong to it. The pronoun attached it is the 'he' at the beginning of the clause. The other =f pronoun attached to tkn is what's known as a resumptive pronoun, meaning it's there for emphasis but isn't read in translation.

The other particle is 'mi' 'like', which comes after a determinative stroke for 'gs' (side), and before a lot of signs that end in the two men (hand to mouth and seated). So we know that if 'mi' is a particle by itself, it doesn't belong to the signs that come after it, and therefore is its own word. If you tried to read it with the other words, you'd get miirnHnw and since we know that Egyptian words tend to be 2-3 consonants long, with a max of 4, this is too long to be an actual word. Therefore mi has to be separate from ir and nHnw.

There's another little bit of grammar I didn't cover, because 'too advanced for this post', but for completionist's sake: there's another type of pronoun in here called a demonstrative pronoun. In English it's what the words 'this/that' are referred to. Here the word 'pf' (the sign group with the rectangular box and the horned viper) is performing that function meaning 'over there'. So in the sentence we have: aHa=f 'he should stand' (subjunctive + second person masc.), m 'on' (preposition), pf 'the other' (demonstrative pronoun), gs 'side' (noun), mi 'like' (particle), ir 'does' (infinitive verb), nHnw 'praise singer' (noun). If that makes sense? It probably doesn't, but that's how we know pf isn't connected to either m or gs. Somewhere my lecturers are feeling a weight lifted from them and it's because I'm finally able to express this without confusion. Sadly they'll never see it lmao.

So what do we have left unmarked? Those are all your verbs, nouns, and adjectives! tkn (stay close), hrw (day), qsn.t (suffering), aHa (stand), ir (does), nHnw (praise singer). Once you remove all your grammar markers what you're left with can only be those three. The only one that isn't clearly marked is 'ir', and that's because it tends to just show up as the eye sign, or the eye sign with an r 'mouth' sign beneath it. Here it's just the eye sign, and an inexperienced reader will likely either read it with the particle 'mi' making miir, or with nHnw making irnHnw. Either way they're going to run into some issues, and unfortunately the only way they'll stop making that mistake is experience with translating MEg.

I hope that this post has at least somewhat cleared up the confusion about how Hieroglyphs and Middle Egyptian work. If I'm honest, I think it's more likely to have confused some of you even more. I apologise for that. Trying to explain a dead language, for which most of you have no reference point, on a medium like tumblr is pretty difficult. If what I've said here is too complicated, I would suggest getting yourself a copy of Mark Collier's 'How to Read Egyptian Hieroglyphs'. That book is about £10, and it's really easy to get hold of. The British Museum shop has copies you can buy (it got a reprint thanks to the Hieros exhibit) and I know it's on Amazon too. Go forth and get the book written by the man who taught me how to read them! sorry Mark

Congrats on reaching the bottom of 'Do you know how to read hieroglyphs? Which one?'

𓋹𓍑𓋴 ꜥnḫ wḏꜢ snb

#scheduled #this took me the best part of a week (over several evenings) to write and create all the hieroglyphs for

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