I think I missed the “names for gasolines in the u.s.” class along with the “obvious things about christianity” class, that I was apparently mocked for not knowing last time (never said I was an expert - actually the opposite)
Steven Universe Live Action CW Reboot (circa 2036)
Steven is now a depressed 27 year old who’s addicted to drugs to cope with his traumatic childhood.
Lots of offensive and harmful portrayals of Steven’s mental illnesses.
He’s in a turbulent, on and off relationship with Connie who is demanding and bitchy towards him for some reason and is played by someone with light skin.
Pearl is a womanizer who has one night stands with random human women and then ghosts them afterwards. Garnet is portrayed as cold and careless while Amethyst gets into fights with people all the time and is overall aggressive and rude. She also sells cocaine apparently, which is how Steven gets it.
Greg is now a lazy, deadbeat dad who was never there for Steven and resents him for being the reason Rose is gone.
Speaking of Rose, it’s revealed at the end of season 1 that she was still alive this whole time.
When Steven finds out he goes on a rant filled with lines you’d find on Riverdale. “You know what? I’ve got demons. Demons all inside my mind, and you put them there!”
Peridot speaks exclusively in outdated memes and is one of those nerdy fangirl type characters who was written by someone who hates teenage girls and women.
The Diamonds are really sexy(I mean, they already are hot. But I mean the live action adult TV show kind of sexy where they’re always wearing bikinis)
Unnessessary sex scene with Steven and Connie to show the viewers look!!! They’re adults!!! See!!!!! They have sexy sex!!!!!!
Jasper is predatory butch wlw stereotype.
Ruby and Sapphire sex scene written by a straight man.
Lots of on screen shatterings because edgy.
Connie is pregnant but it turns out Steven’s not the father because she was cheating on him after they had a big fight.
Little Homeworld has become a red light district because??? Idk???
That’s all I can come up with, I can’t continue this any longer it hurts too much.
The thing about being interested in true crime is that you can’t really tell people you’re interested in true crime because they’ll either think you want to fuck Ted Bundy, or that you’re like Bailey Sarian, and I’m not associated with either of those fuckers
SOME nudity is sexual. Other nudity isn’t. Context, consent, and behavior are all factors that play into it. BUT treating all nudity like it is inherently sexual and perverted is an unhealthy mindset.
Summary: Saxon Osier learns from Therrin’s letter that his little brother is alive.
CW: fantasy/medieval whump, fictional politics, referenced political prisoner, consensual sex mentions, threesome, prostitution mention, saxon ponders the nature of consent between him and Therrin, alcohol and drunkenness, problem drinking, grief and death mentions, a timid servant girl is afraid of saxon a little bit
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Saxon Osier snapped at a servant girl to leave him, feeling a small twinge of regret as she ducked out of the room like she’d been kicked.
He poured another cup of strongwine, ignoring the drops that slipped from the lip of the bottle and stained the table.
He remembered Tayla, the girl he and Therrin shared for a night, years ago now. She had shown him how to twist the bottle at the end of the pour so no wine was wasted. He’d messed it up on purpose, landing a few drops on the table so she’d roll her pretty eyes at him.
“He’s a brute,” Therrin had said, balancing his chair on its hind legs in the noisy tavern. “What’d you expect?”
“And you, Therrin?” Tayla flirted shamelessly. “Aren’t all you Muirish men uncouth beasts who take whatever they please without asking?”
Therrin’s eyes seemed to smile at her over his cup as he took a drink of his strongwine. “One way to find out.”
It was then, he thought, Talya was struck with the idea of taking them both upstairs. She was brazen and self assured, and they were drawn to her like flies to honey. The two of them were used to highborn girls with their constant chaperones, or else bored prostitutes at the brothel Therrin had been whipped for their visiting.
Drunk as they were, they were rather unsubtle, and the rumor was rampant by the following morning that Saxon Osier and the northern ward had shared a tavern girl— had gone into a room together and not come back out til daylight.
It was true, of course, but Saxon’s memory of the actual act was hazy. He always wondered if that night they shared Talya made it easier, when he and Therrin finally turned to each other.
It was Therrin who had kissed him. Therrin who stopped his hand once while tending his whip-welts and brought it to the front of his breeches, holding it there.
Therrin had wanted him.
Hadn’t he?
Saxon took a healthy swig of strongwine, bitter and black. His tongue was stained with it, his lips. He would have a pounding headache in the morning, no doubt, but he was already too far down in its blessed numb depths to care about that. Morning Saxon was not his problem, and his father was no longer lucid enough to make a comment if he was visibly hungover.
Therrin was the one who wanted to play their power games so badly, feigning helplessness and calling him by his official title in bed. Saxon had gotten off on it too, like nothing else, but it was not real.
Not once had it gotten too real, he thought, staring blearily at an unopened letter on the table. It was sealed in red wax with a hand scratched B, for lack of an official royal seal yet.
There was never any force. He was not some vile Lord’s son who would use his power over a ward in such a way. Like a slave. Like a prisoner.
Did he hate you the whole time? You did your best to make it easier on him here. Did he think you wanted that in exchange? In payment? Are you really so clueless that it could be so, and you thought it love?
Or was he using you?
Saxon believed what the southerlands deserved was its sovereignty back. But he would not claim himself a King once his ailing father passed, it was not about that. Rather, he and Martin Spearly of Aepoli would form an alliance, both vowing to protect and trade with the other so new independent governments could be established in both provinces.
They would be fragile republics in their infancy, and would need to be protected against outside invasion and inside corruption both.
Most crucially, they would need a strong treaty with the King of the Muirs. An admission of their sovereignty.
There was a time Saxon would’ve been certain Therrin would support this endeavor. Would support him. They would work together to achieve this goal, pushing away from the overstretched rule of Kings.
That was before Therrin went behind his back and took the crown by force and blood. Before he declared himself King and demanded tax and tribute like some tyrant, the very thing he had ranted against the Trulys for from the time they were thirteen.
And it begged the question; if he couldn’t trust Therrin, how in the hell was he supposed to trust Martin fucking Spearly not to double cross him?
Spearly could say he was interested in this plan—almost embarrassing in its idealistic naivety at times— and all the while be shaking hands behind his back with Therrin, plotting to replace him.
Saxon took another numbing drink.
“Lord Osier?”
He turned his head slowly, so the room would not tilt. In the archway stood the girl he’d snapped at not ten minutes earlier.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but… the messenger said it was of high importance. Utmost, he said.”
“Well, if it’s utmost,” he teased. “Better get on with it.”
“It’s…a letter from the Muirlands.” She took a long envelope from behind her back as if apologizing for it. “They said to deliver it now.”
“More demands from our benevolent King,” he tried not to slur. He couldn’t tell if he had or not. He waved the girl closer. Rather offensively, she hesitated.
“Oh please. You look at me as if I’ve ever given you a reason to fear me. I’m a little bit drunk, not rabid.”
She came closer, until she was standing right in front of him. He put his boots on the table, crossing one ankle over the other. “Do you read?”
“If it please you, my Lord.”
“Open it. Read it. I don’t want to look at his handwriting. I’m still trying to enjoy my evening.”
He drank as the girl struggled to snap the seal and unfolded the letter, reading Therrin’s bold words in her soft voice.
As Saxon listened he stared at one of his dogs in the rushes, happily chewing marrow from a bone. The letter was humble, so far. More personal than the first touches had been, which were just scribe copies of tax documents.
The servant faltered, looking up at him over the top of the letter.
“You’re doing fine. Keep going.”
Her eyes were shining in open fear, her face gone pale.
“M-matteo is alive,” she read in a trembling, reluctant voice. “I have no way to soften this news… and… and though joyous, I—”
Saxon swung his legs off the table. He took the letter from her hands and placed it facedown against the table, as if pinning an unruly fish. The dog looked up from its bone, licking its teeth.
“It’s alright,” he told her. Her eyes had gone wide and her hands remained frozen where they had been holding the letter, like a statue in the gardens.
“It’s alright. But don’t repeat that. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
Saxon took her by the chin, careful not to pinch too tight and bruise her. His strength got away from him when he was drinking, sometimes. Everything felt as if he were holding it through a glove.
“I have rarely meant anything so seriously. Do not repeat what you just read. To anyone. Do I have your word, Gisella?”
“Yes, Lord Osier,” she breathed. “I swear.”
“Go.”
She stared at him, frozen.
“Go,” he said again.
She turned and picked up her long aprons so she would not trip, nearly running from the room.
Saxon tried to calm his pounding heart.
Therrin would not lie to you about this. He wouldn’t.
Matteo… alive. Was it possible? He didn’t dare to hope. The disappointment would be too cruel.
They’d never received a body, it was true. But still… after so many months and months? Where? How?
He stayed with you as you cried beside that empty grave, that day by the sea. Therrin Blackmuir would not lie to you about Matteo.
The letter was still pinned beneath his hand. He closed his eyes. Already, a headache was gathering behind his temples.
He turned it over, and forced himself to start from the beginning.
Hello everyone… I hope you all had an amazing winter break and holiday :)
However, there is something important I need to talk about. It’s something I have brought up several times before, and needs to be mentioned again.
I recently logged back onto tumblr after a two week break, I can back to an astonishing amount of nsfw, ddlg/cgl, and very triggering blogs such as e!d blogs and s!h following me, interacting, and reblogging from me. Please.. it’s starting to affect me a lot, I’m a **minor** as well as an age regressor, and someone with trauma and mental illnesses. If you see my dni and this post and decide to follow anyways, that is absolutely unacceptable and I will report your account.
Aside from that.. I have made the very hard decision to let this go. I will be staying on the platform, and create a lot more original content, and I will (unfortunately) try my best to stop monitoring my account. This is hard, as I will most likely have a lot more uncomfy interaction, but the stress of constantly monitoring and checking every blog that follows me is honestly just too much. I NEVER wanted to have to make this decision, but if my boundaries won’t be respected anyways, there’s no point in trying to uphold them
If you are an age regressor, a sfw caregiver, a petre, a supporter, or ANYONE in the **cglre** community, please please interact, please spread this message as many other underage and age accounts also have this problem.. thank you for reading <33 and have an amazing day :)
~Bun
I did the same thing, because constantly checking blogs ended up triggering almost constant intrusive thoughts and made me unconsciously mentally link my agere with nsfw stuff, which of course made me really stressed an uncomfortable. It’s really sad that this is an actual problem in this community.
I hope your stress eases, and that life treats you well.
I think what’s wrong with me is that my dad loved making boiled peanuts but when you say “boiled peanuts” in a thick Mississippi Delta accent it sounds like “bald penis” and we were forbidden from acknowledging that
My dad, internally: “The children must be fed nutriment. I have in my possession a very large pot and a propane burner; I shall make a sojourn to the grocer’s and procure peanuts.”
My dad, aloud: “‘Ey, y'all wansum bald penis?”
All of us, internally: “Ah yes, such a delectable summertime treat that will be.”
All of us, aloud: “'Ey, shitchea. Daddy boutta bal up some bald penis!”
They take on a delightful texture similar to water chestnuts and get infused with whatever seasonings you put in the water. It is literally so fucking delicious and if you don’t know about bald penis then you are Deprived. The food of the gods.
Honey, darling, listen to me. Would I lie to you? No, I wouldn’t. If you ever find yourself driving around in the rural southern US, you simply must keep an eye out for one of these gentlemen:
For a very reasonable price you’ll be provided a cup of absolutely delectable provincial delicacies that will surely equal any hors d'ouvers you might find on the continent. I promise, darling, it is the most délicieuse dining experience you’re likely to find, and it will surely–as my dear departed grandmama used to say–“make yer tongue slap yer brains out”
This gentleman has spelled peanuts three different ways on his stall.
In honor of Women’s History Month, we’ve published an article highlighting the experience of women, women-aligned, and feminine-aligned ace people: https://taaap.org/2022/03/26/ace-women/
Thank you to all our contributors!
[ID: “I wish [allos] knew that just because women are asexual, it does not correlate to religion, purity culture, or what society has told us.” - Jasmine. “I’m white, which means that it’s easy for my asexuality to be read as “purity” that must be “protected,” a privilege that non-white ace women don’t have access to. In order to be a good ally to all in the ace community, I have to actively disrupt the way white supremacy has always wielded white women’s purity as a favorite weapon.“ - Brooke. "When I finally began to define myself as ace, I didn’t question or change my gender identity, but it did make me feel more comfortable about where I was.” - Jessie.
“Society often views feminine people as not being interested in sex as "the norm,” often leading people to believe that the label is just me trying to be a “special snowflake”. When really, that statement is both factually wrong and invalidating.“ - Kaye. "A recent viral tweet challenged Mexican women not to "hit the wall” at age 22, as if we have to stay consumable.“ - Tori R. "People often don’t take my asexuality seriously, because they think that the only reason I haven’t had sex is because of religious celibacy, while in fact, asexuality and not experiencing sexual attraction play a big, possibly even bigger, part in that.” - Passant. End ID.]
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