Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
DDBA S2 DEX STALKING HOT NUN AT THE CHURCH ACROSS THE STREET (i will literally crawl on my hands and knees for you, i beg)
ask and you shall receive my child 😇
blessing in disguise.
word count: 1.6k
Dex had the curtains of the windows in his living room pulled open, and he stood in front of the one on the right, waiting patiently. From across the street, he had a perfect view of the back of Clinton church and the little garden behind it. The sky was overcast this morning, dense clouds of dark grey blocking the golden rays of daylight, but Dex knew she would still be there. He’d been watching her for two and a half months now, and he knew her routine like the back of his hand. Every Saturday morning, from nine thirty to ten, she was out there. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, and delight curved at the edge of his mouth.
9:29 am.
The heat from the coffee in his hands permeated through the paper, warming his fingers and his palm, and the scent of hazelnut escaped through the small hole towards the edge of the plastic lid. The flavor had grown on him. He’d gotten a headstart this morning, heading down early to the cafe two blocks over so he’d be back in time to see her. His eyes flickered to the clock once again.
9:30 am.
When she finally appeared, Dex felt the coils of anticipation unravel within him, and his posture relaxed as if the air of calmness that always followed her made its way to him through the pane of glass. His own lips spread almost instantly to mirror the smile present on hers. It didn’t matter that the sun was still hidden and the absence of it created a faint chill, she brought the warmth and light with her wherever she went.
She always started with the flowers. He often wondered what it would feel like for her fingertips to gently caress his skin the way she did those soft petals. He’d snuck into the garden after hours a few times, following the path she took every week through the garden, letting his own fingers brush over the velvet vibrancies as he looked between them and the book he’d gotten from the library to learn what each one was. Dahlias and peonies, a couple Chrysanthemums, some Roses and Marigolds, and a few Dandelions.
After watering the soil and deadheading the wilting blooms, she usually cut a few stems for the arrangements she made inside, and then ventured over to the side where the herbs grew. He watched her cut some stems from the Rosemary and Sage, the staples she used in a lot of her breads for the church bake sales, before turning her attention to the Lavender and Eucalyptus. Every move she made was so effortless and graceful, and it was incredibly soothing to him to watch. When she got to the Basil, he knew it was time to leave. She always saved Basil for last.
Dex looped around the opposite side of the church and went down a block before turning to head back so that it would look like he was coming from the direction of the cafe. He held the coffee cup in his hand, the logo intentionally facing out, and reached the wrought iron fence surrounding the back of the church right as she was finishing up.
“Good morning, Sister Y/N.”
As she turned her head, a bright smile stretched at the edges of her mouth, the same one that always appeared when she saw him. He still remembered the first time she’d gifted him with it two and a half months ago, the one that had initiated this unrelenting magnetic pull in his chest. It still felt electric every single time.
“Oh, good morning, Ben.”
Dex leaned casually against the fence, taking a sip from the coffee cup before gesturing towards the garden with it.
“So, you’re the reason this always looks so good.”
He caught the way her smile dimmed slightly with modesty, and she averted her gaze to her own work with a flush beginning to tint her cheeks.
“Well, the other nuns help too, but I do love gardening. It’s relaxing for me. And I like to use the herbs when I bake.”
Dex’s lips spread into a charming grin.
“The fresh herbs definitely make a difference. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as good as that Rosemary parmesan sourdough you made for the last bake sale. I should’ve bought two.”
He relished in the way she subtly bit her bottom lip before her lips spread into something bashful, a hint of pride sparkling in her eyes.
“You don’t have to wait for the next bake sale, I could always make you another.”
Dex turned to face the fence fully now, resting his elbows on the dull speared tips of the posts, looking appropriately grateful but purposefully hesitant.
“I wouldn’t ask you to go through all that trouble just for me.”
“It’s no trouble, I make fresh loaves every week.”
“Well I can’t pass up an offer like that.”
He lightly tapped his index finger twice against the cup, a gesture that would appear unconscious, but it was an intentional signal to draw her attention to it. He watched her eyes drop down to it just as he’d intended, seeing the recognition sparking in them, and he had to make an effort to contain his pleased smirk when he saw the excited smile on her face as she pointed to it.
“I love that place.”
Dex looked down at the cup, feigning surprise as if he’d forgotten it was in his hand and dangled right in front of her like enticing bait.
“Oh yeah? Me too. Best coffee I’ve found in the city. You ever tried their pastries? They have a pretty good chocolate croissant.”
He watched her face light up with the same elation that always appeared on someone’s face when they discovered they had something in common with someone. It was a universal desire in the human experience, finding invisible tethers of connection that reduced the ache of loneliness. As she slipped off her gardening gloves and came closer to the fence, the sound of her soft laughter ignited a thrill that rushed through him.
“I love their chocolate croissants. I always get one with my hazelnut cappuccino."
Dex let out a dry laugh, feigning disbelief at this revelation he’d known for two and a half months already. Every Saturday when she finished up in the garden, she walked the two blocks to the cafe to get a chocolate croissant and a hazelnut cappuccino, every single time, which had consequently become Dex’s order.
“You’re joking. That’s what I get.”
She seemed genuinely surprised by this, and he watched that effortless excitement fade just slightly. It would’ve been almost imperceptible to anyone else, but Dex never missed anything. She looked him up and down as if studying him, and there was just the faintest sliver of suspicion in her gaze.
“Really? I pictured you as a black coffee guy.”
He knew she was thinking the odds didn’t seem plausible, or that he was lying, feigning a shared interest in the way people did when they wanted to get closer to someone, which…he was doing. But he’d prepared an explanation for that. He gave a subtle shrug of his shoulders with an easy smile.
“No, never been a black coffee guy. It’s too bitter for my liking. Tell you the truth, I was on a vanilla latte kick for a while, but they gave me the wrong order by accident one time, and I was quickly converted. Turns out I really like hazelnut.”
The rehearsed lie slipped from his tongue with ease, and the bright smile that returned to her lips told him she bought it.
“Blessing in disguise.”
“It definitely was.”
He let just a hint of the burning intensity he felt for her flicker in his eyes and dropped his voice to a more intimate tone, just to gauge her reaction to the dual meaning. He saw the subtle working of her throat as she swallowed, averting her gaze for a moment as that heat returned to her cheeks. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t overshot his little experiment too much.
“I…I usually go there every Saturday, after I’m done here.”
He detected a trace of hesitance in her voice, and he could see it when she looked at him again. His lungs were beginning to burn from depriving them of oxygen, but he was waiting to see which direction she was taking with this. She fiddled with one of the fingers of her gardening gloves, a subconscious action he’d learned to associate with anxiety or lack of confidence in a situation.
“If you…I mean…you just went there this morning, so you might not want-”
“I could go again.”
Dex quickly interjected before she talked herself out of what he hoped she was asking.
The apprehension seemed to fade with his reassurance, and as if she held some kind of divinity in her fingertips, the clouds finally divided to let the sunlight slip through when her sweet smile parted her lips, like she’d commanded the heavens to reopen with just one gesture. The golden rays that were suddenly cast upon her face made her look like an angel standing in front of him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
the real answer to almost every "does [identity A] belong in [identity B] spaces" question is actually just "these spaces are informal social groups and if you're cool you can hang, don't worry about it"
I was an American Jew in the diaspora that did not want to tie myself to Israel. I was only tangentially aware of it, and in pure young adult fashion, rebelliously annoyed to be reminded of it by the Jews around me. I talked about Israel not at all. If you had asked me, I was opposed to it.
That changed with Operation Cast Lead. I had no idea what it was called at the time. I was checked out completely. I was starting my PhD, and had no idea that there was anything happening in Israel. If it was mentioned, I just kind of glazed over and forgot about it. I was American, what did I care?
But the people around me in academia? They knew. They cared. They saw my posts on Facebook spending time with a cousin who lived there; a trip to Tel Aviv five years ago.
This was all it took.
I was asked by other students about Israel, where I stood on it, what I thought. These questions carried an air of accusation that puzzled me. When I said I do not know, and I do not care, the questions became more pointed, more hostile. Was I a Zionist?
What is a Zionist, I asked.
I did not know. I heard the term only in circumstances of it being in the title of Jewish organizations mentioned in temple conversations. I wasn't there for that, though, I wanted a second helping of kugel and the ladies gossiping at the post-services buffet were in the way.
My ignorance and nearly complete disinterest in Israel did not matter. I was tied to Israel whether I liked it or not. My dark eyes, tan skin, long dark curly hair, Mediterranean features, my Jewish husband who wore a kippah to fancy occasions... inquiring minds needed to know, was a good Jew or a bad Jew?
It was a game, and I did not know the rules. Tails they win, heads I lose. I quickly learned that unless I verbally prostrated myself and proclaimed the most violent of antisemitic terrorists had a point, I had to answer for Israel. Even if I did that, I would still have to answer for Israel.
Israel did not make me a Zionist. My Judaism did not make me a Zionist. Antizionists, who have always been antisemitic, always been hostile, made me a Zionist. Because I was not allowed to be anything but that, not if I wanted to have any respect for myself.
we gotta get back to torrent distribution, i just watched someone eat eight grand in bandwidth charges because they ran a direct-download piracy site with local file hosting through cloudflare. torrents were invented literally for this exact reason
i have a file or folder on my pc that i want to share with other people. let's call it gayshit.mp3
unfortunately gayshit.mp3 is 750mb and im not paying for discord nitro so i need another way to send it
i put it into qbittorrent and it makes a torrent file. this is essentially a very small file that points to gayshit.mp3 so other computers can find it. kinda like a treasure map
i send this tiny file to my friend, who loads it into qbittorrent. their computer takes a moment to find mine over the vast expanse of cyberspace and then (as long as my pc is running and the file is still where it should be), it gets copied from my hard drive to theirs
this is the cool part: if somebody else loads that tiny file, they can download it from both of us. if i'm offline but my friend is on, the third person can still get it. this also means that if two people have separate halves of the file, they can download the other half from each other. as long as some combination of people have the pieces between them, they can all have the whole thing.
crucially this does not require a server!!! you can just upload the file to a few people and as long as they keep it, it's still accessible. as long as somebody, somewhere is still connected, it's available forever. the only way it goes away is if everybody disconnects from it.
i want to put my thoughts behind this: this was supposed to be a piece for pride month, titled "you were loved". the sky is the color of the aroace flag (just upside down)!
basically, i wanted to show an aroace person — an old aroace person, to be precise. being aroace myself, i am always told that i will forever be lonely and miserable if i don't get a partner. so showing grace, who is aroace to me, as old and happy and fulfilled and oh so loved by his best friend, was really important to me <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
