#I need more fuel for the mental illness

[kaylaschaoticrandomness]

Hello good people of tumblr!

I am currently compiling a list of male characters who have gotten the ✨sexy cheekbone cut✨ that is used most commonly for female characters to avoid “tarnishing their beauty” (forehead cuts also accepted under the trope)

This could be from something somewhat reasonable like a knife fight, or totally absurd like the only damage from an explosion.

This is for the sillies and for science (a conversation with my friend)

As my examples I will provide Bucky Barnes in the first Captain America movie:

Even his hair is perfect. He was literally tortured and experimented on! But I get it. Sebastian Stan is too beautiful to tarnish.

Second example! Ianto Jones in season three of Torchwood (Children of Earth Spoilers!)

I’m so sorry for the picture, it was the clearest one I could find. (I finished episode four for the first time last week suffer with me) Again, I get the avoidance of tarnishing his face, but it’s especially noticeable considering that Jack literally exploded from the bomb. Granted, Jack had the bomb inside him, and Ianto had some distance, but still.

Anyways, please give me more examples! I love silly trope subversions like this that are super unserious but just interesting :)

[marzipaint]

zzz

[bilbotargaryen]

Having read some spoilers of the Arcane ending I think I won't be finishing the show...

[mainfaggot]

how do you cut someone off

[fagdykevash]

i have work tomorrow and i'm coping by looking at and saving the same pictures of my blorbos over and over again hey this sounds familiar

[strwbrymlkshake]

LOVE ME THE MOST THE MOST YOU POSSIBLY CAN!!!!!! LOVE ME THE MOST I NEED TO BE THE ONLY THING IN YOUR MIND

[robinsnest2111]

ough..... brain demonssssssssss.......

[fucktoyfelix]

This is actually a useful thing to understand how to spell out. What exactly is wrong with puritanical attitudes towards sexuality? TW: Discusses body image issues, suicide, STIs, sexual assault etc

1. It fosters fear, disgust and loathing of our bodies. By hiding the human body as soon as we are born, and treating it as an object of inherent shame: THAT creates trauma. Shame is one of the primary sources of trauma, its the fuel and lets trauma burn. Those raised in nudist societies, and children raised in households where nudity is treated in a neutral and non-sexual tend to have a much more positive relationship with their bodies as adults. This makes complete sense when you think about it. Going through puberty not knowing if your body is "normal" terrifies children in ways that stick with them for life. In fact, most cultures outside of the Unites States aren't as strange about non-sexual nudity actually...and are healthier for it. We can't have body positivity as long as we are literally criminalized for having an uncovered body. 2. It creates fear, shame and disgust about sex. Most people have sex at some point in their lives. No one would be here at all without it. Most people have sexual desires which lie outside their control. When people are ashamed of those desires, it leads to self hatred, and depression and anxiety. This shame is just as traumatic as bodily shame. When sex is normalized, and treated with the same candor as any other hobby: it becomes less apt to traumatize people.

3. Puritanical attitudes towards sex limit sex education. When people are too ashamed to talk about sex, people don't learn about pregnancy, stis, or consent. All of these things can and do kill people when they aren't addressed with an open dialogue.

Sexual shame leads to people too ashamed to buy condoms, to talk to their doctor about birth control, to ask their partner to use protection, to get tested...the negative health impacts of sexual puritanism have a massive negative effect on society.

4. Sexual shame leads to poorer communication in relationships. Ohh if I had a dime for every person i knew who ruined their relationship because they felt too guilty to talk to their partner about their sexual feelings...Not just that, but the general body shame that comes with puritanism blocks people from connecting to one another too. Have you ever avoided getting close to someone because you were ashamed of your body? If not, I guarantee you know someone who has.

5. Misogyny! Puritanical sexual believes hold that women are not capable of sexual agency. That only men should initiate sex. That women should only ever want babies and not pleasure from sex. All of this rolls right into the next one:

6. Victim blaming in sexual assault. When women are the gatekeepers of sex, its easy to blame them when they 'fail' to protect their chastity when someone violates their trust. This isn't something that just effects women: as the same attitudes hold that men are not capable of experiencing sexual assault. The lack of education and discussion about sex in a sex-negative world inherently prevent the open dialogues necessary for creating and maintaining consent culture.

7. Suppression and marginalization of the queer community. If we're too ashamed to talk about sex, we'll be too ashamed to talk about sexuality. Puritans can't accept any deviation from gender norms either. Anything other than sex between a cis man and a cis woman for the purpose of making a baby is a deviant kink, a mental illness, and needs to be wiped out. Its important to point out that many queer people hold puritanical values about sex: believing that they can achieve sex negativity and queer liberation at the same time. However, sex negative movements always rise with censorship and discrimination of queer people...because queer people are inherently considered deviant by the vast majority of sex negative "allies". It's very dangerous to forget this.

8. Censorship of art. Who decides what is sexual and what is not? Its easy to agree that sex needs to be hidden...but it never takes long before the definition of what is "sexual" expands. Even women's breasts are considered sexual in the United States. Its so normal for Americans to think of them that way that women can't feed their children in public. Drag queens face violence for reading at libraries. Books get taken off the shelves. Artists are bullied offline.

9. Censorship of scientific exploration. Scientific research into reproductive health, sexual behavior, gender identity and more are often hindered due to the "moral objections" of puritans, delaying progress and understanding. That's just off the top of my head. I think its time for people to take how problematic 'puritanism' is more seriously. As we see fascism rear its ugly head all over the world, we're going to see a lot more talk about 'degenerates'...and we know where that kind of talk leads.

[riality-check]

DILF!Steve concert saga, featuring Eddie POV for this part! part 1, part 2

"I have to open it."

"Nope."

"Gareth. I need to open it."

"The vault is sacred," Archie says.

At the same time, Jeff chimes in, "The vault was your idea, Eddie."

Eddie thunks his head against the wall. "I know. But I need-"

"They're on the last song," Archie says, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder. It's probably meant to be comforting, but it feels patronizing as shit.

Eddie is a good friend, though. He doesn't shrug him off.

"Once they're through, I'll unlock it," Jeff says, dangling the key slung around his neck.

"But you could do it now," Eddie protests.

Gareth sits protectively on top of the black lock box. "Absolutely not."

Eddie sighs and waits for the guitar solo onstage to end, nodding his head along to the beat.

It's what he usually does when they're backstage, but this time, it brings a smile to his face. Miss Anna was a natural yesterday for her first time headbanging, and her dad is the reason Eddie wants to break the sacred vault tradition.

He wants, no, needs to know if he got the note. If he decided to write something. If he wants to go a little further than PG flirting.

Eddie for sure wants to go further than that. God. Steve's handsome face and his big hands and his thick thighs (deliciously exposed by his shorts in the summer heat) are all wonderful incentives to skip a few steps and go straight to ramming him into a mattress.

Or, with how that shirt clung to Steve's biceps and how his shorts clung to his ass, let him ram Eddie into the mattress. He isn't picky.

(He isn't desperate, either, thank you very much, Gareth. And no, he won't admit how long it's been since he got laid.)

From the house, the audience roars, and Eddie jumps off the arm of the couch he was laying on.

Gareth sighs and gets off the lock box.

"Jeff, open it," Eddie says, staring at the vault and subconsciously making grabby hands toward it.

"Is that how we ask?"

"I could always yank the key off you."

Archie sighs and, ever the peacemaker, takes the key from Jeff and unlocks the vault. The second it's open, Eddie snatches his phone and turns it on.

Please please please let the DILF text back, he thinks to himself as he waits for this stupid metal brick to turn on and give him a resolution to this whole ridiculous situation.

Because, first, Eddie doesn't really jive with kids. Sure, they flock to him in the same way they flock to every other vaguely cool-looking person, but aside from asking if he has to draw his tattoos on every day or if his mommy is okay with him having his hair that long, they generally leave him alone.

And that's okay. Eddie easily made his peace with not having kids about ten years ago. Between his strong preference for men and the way that significantly decreases those odds and the choice to not pass on his truly abysmal family history of mental illness and addiction, it seemed obvious and a lot more selfless.

But Anna was cool as hell. Smart as hell, too, in a way that made Eddie feel like he was looking back at a time before school punished him for being bright and verbose and energetic.

Anna didn't make him want kids. Again, the whole family history thing is a real vibe killer. But she did give him enough fuel, for just an instant, to think that dating someone with a kid might not be a deal breaker anymore.

Or maybe Steve was just that hot.

He whined a lot yesterday, in the hotel, about how hot Steve was.

His phone turns on, and, front and center, is a text from an unknown number:

I guess I don’t have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we’re even on that front, I’m a teacher, and Anna’s full time job is preschool.

Eddie grins so hard he feels like his face will split in two.

"Is it him?" Jeff asks, trying to look over Eddie's shoulder.

"Of course it is," Gareth scoffs. "Look at his face."

"What did he say?" Archie asks.

Eddie takes the easier way out and lets him have the phone.

Gareth and Jeff crowd over Archie's shoulders, and Eddie watches their faces change as they read the message.

"Oh, he's bitchy," Gareth says.

"That means he's perfect," Jeff says, with a pointed look at Eddie.

Eddie shoots Archie a clear "back me up" look and gets a shrug in return because all his friends are assholes who know his type way too fucking well.

"What do I say?" he asks.

Archie tosses him the phone. "I don't know. Flirt back."

"I don't know how!"

"You ground against a guitar-"

"And kissed me onstage," Jeff continues. "But you don't know how to flirt?"

Eddie puts his head in his hands. "I didn't have enough sex in high school to know how to do this!"

"That's not an excuse when none of us did!" Gareth says.

Jeff barks out a laugh.

"Just ask if he's free tomorrow," Archie says, like the rational, wonderful friend he is. "This was the last stop of tour. It's not like you have to get anywhere else at a specific time."

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that," Eddie says, hyping himself up. Before he can second guess himself, he writes back.

Since it's summer, I'm assuming you both have off. Can you fit it in your busy schedule to have dinner with a humble musician tomorrow night?

"Oh, shit, did you send it?" Gareth asks, snatching his phone.

"Wait," Archie says, like the rational, horrible friend he is. "Do we know if he's single?"

"Oh, shit," Jeff whispers.

Eddie takes his phone back and refuses to look at it. He wants to shut it down. He wants to drop it. He wants to drive to nearest river and throw it there.

"Am I a homewrecker?" he asks absently.

"Only if you succeed," Jeff says.

"He might have a wife," Archie muses. "He might be straight."

"Okay, dude, enough," Gareth says. "This was supposed to be exciting! Eddie was supposed to get ass!"

"He might be ace."

"Archie, shut the fuck up."

He holds his hands up in surrender, and Jeff pats his shoulder, a little comfortingly, a lot condescendingly.

Eddie sits down on the couch. Puts his head in his hands. Breathes.

He's flirting with a married man. He's absolutely flirting with a married man. This is a new low. This is worse than the time he licked the floor of a restaurant, drunk, for five bucks. This is worse than when he greened out in the parking lot of a Chuck E. Cheese. This is worse than when he accidentally told the gas station cashier that he loved them and immediately walked into the glass door behind him.

This is. So bad.

And then his phone rings, so it'll get worse. It has to. That's how these things go.

Eddie has always been self-destructive, so, of course, he looks at the screen.

I can't swing dinner, but how's lunch? Fair warning: it might be a playground picnic if my babysitter bails.

"Holy shit, I'm not a homewrecker," Eddie says.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Jeff says.

"He's single!" Gareth cheers.

"Can I talk now?" Archie teases.

"I'm not a homewrecker!" Eddie says, and he launches off the couch to hug the nearest person, who happens to be Jeff.

They have to get out of the venue. He has to figure out the logistics of the date and how to be normal by the time he gets there and what to wear and everything else.

But, right now, Eddie is over the fucking moon that Steve is even giving him a shot. And he hopes, giddy as all hell and hanging off of Jeff's shoulders, that Steve feels even a little bit like this.

He writes back, once he's calmed down:

Lunch might just become my new favorite meal.

[lua-magic]

Twelfth house and your spiritual powers.

Twelfth house is the house of "letting go", sacrifice, forgiveness, divine, charity and kindness. Wherever, your twelfth Lord goes, you can't expect anything from that house and you have to let go.

If twelfth Lord is in six, eight and twelfth, you need to get rid of all your negative thoughts, beliefs and blocks otherwise it will manifest in the form of physical and mental illness.

You must learn to forgive otherwise, you will suffer materially, mentally and physically..

You have to learn to control your mind and thoughts, otherwise you will keep creating for yourself negative circumstances and situations.

Twelfth Lord first house 🏠 you have to develop kindness and forgiveness.

If you can't forgive and sacrifice then it will become impossible for you to develop or succeed in life. First house is of personality and twelfth house is of let go, you can't be attached to someone or something, if you want to progress spiritually, physically and emotionally then you need to imbibe qualities of twelfth house in your personality like forgiveness, kindness and letting go.

Twelfth Lord in second House .

Don't accumalte things, let it go, more you focus on storing anything either, materially or emotionaly, it will trouble you.

So, detach from your material wealth and learn to give others, you will experience freedom in your life.

"Twelfth Lord in third and eleventh house" natives should not be attached to their desires.

You must learn to let go your attraction and desires.

More you obess over your attractions and desires more you feel suffocated.

Learn to "detach from your desires to manifest it."

If you have twelfth Lord in eleventh house, be mindful of your friends, make only spiritual friends, otherwise, twelfth Lord will take your friends away or push you into isolation.

Twelfth Lord in fourth House 🏠

You will suffer till you don't be spiritual, and let go things. Do meditation and involve in charity.

"Gratitude is the best Attitude" More you work on your mindset and attitude, more free and peaceful your life would become .

Twelfth Lord in fifth house 🏠

Fifth house is of knowledge, and twelfth house is of giving away.

Give your knowledge freely, more you educate, and distribute your knowledge and wisdom, more free you feel

Twelfth Lord in seventh House 🏠

Seventh house is of relationship, twelfth house is of devotion.

Be devoted to your partner, and don't expect instead give to your partner,( as twelfth house is of giving), more you develop patience in relationship, more peaceful your relationship would become.

Twelfth Lord in ninth House 🏠

More you give people, more charity you and more you follow ritousnes in your life, more "Lucky" you get in life.

Develop forgiveness, kindness and letting go, if you want your luck to be with you.

Want to be lucky?

By choosing compassion for yourself and them, you liberate yourself from the chains of resentment and open the door to healing and personal transformation. It's called the freedom of forgiveness; give yourself this precious and priceless gift.

God resides in heart of those where forgiveness resides .

"I love you, I'm sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you."

Above prayer will help you, when you want divine intervention in your life.

Twelfth lord in tenth house 🏠

Learn to work without expectations and give without expectations.

Either you go into spirituality and meditation or wherever, you work, stop expecting, work without any desires and expectations.

Free yourself from the expectations and any rewards, your tenth house will improve.

Focus in your work, and not on results or what and how much you get.

Twelfth house is of divine, when you want divine to guide you, and be with you,

Be thankful, because this pain can be the fuel that propels you toward a life better than you have ever imagined.

Be thankful to your most painful moments, without which you wouldn't have learnt lessons, and without lessons you wouldn't have grown.

Forgiveness frees you from anger and hatred that poisons your soul.

[gooppoo]

jake realize he has a size kink when you’re sat on his lap to aid his wounds and realize how you’re so small compared to him 🤲🏽

size kink is an instant soother for my underlying mental illnesses, thank you.

You're so big!

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: size kink duh, Jake being a lil pervy, tbh...you're being a tease lmao, injury

"Can you promise not to do this again?"

You were perched atop Jake's sizable thighs, massaging some healing ointment into the scrapes on his handsome face. His ears would flick every time your finger tips ran across the wounds, but he tried his hardest not to vocalize his discomfort.

Not only was he trying his hardest to not let his weakness known, he was also desperately trying to avoid provoking the stiffness involuntarily building so close to your groin.

"Jake?" You met his stern gaze, "Promise?"

He met your request with only a hum.

Satisfied enough (with a scowl of course) you returned to treating him. Sometimes you'd have to maneuver in place to reach different areas of his face, and each time Jake couldn't help but notice something else about you that flamed his groin.

The daintiness of your fingers, the harsh contrast of his muscular thighs compared to your softer ones, even the slimness of your expression. It was no debate: you were just tinier.

And this drove Jake nuts. He'd love to display his power by tossing you from position to position, stuffing his length into your delicate center - just knowing it very well could be too big. There was something about your differences that awakened a sex-fueled curiosity, fully expressing itself through his attentive, wide stare.

"Are you alright? Am I being too rough?" The shift in his gaze was not unnoticed. It took more self-control than he wanted to admit to not flash a quick glance down to his half-hard dick.

"Fine, am I done?"

You scoffed, "Yeah right, you have a few cuts I need to stitch."

Jake swore to himself on the inside, and continued to wish away the collection of rushing blood below his loincloth.

You leapt off his lap and sauntered over to a table that had prepared the items for sutures. All the while, you had a pair of wandering eyes observing your every, elegant move. Returning back to Jake, you took back your place on his lap and mindlessly straddled his thigh. Now your true size comparison was obvious.

"Ready?" The needle was next to his skin, he hummed in confirmation.

When he felt the tool pierce his skin he hissed. Jake had gotten stitches before, it was nothing new, but this was part of a ploy to entertain what he was almost sure was his undiscovered size kink. Almost in the same instant, his hand grasped around your wrist and held it still.

His fingers completely circled around your joint. More excitement rushed between his thighs.

"Jake..." your eyes were doe-like, cheeks flushed. Everything about you flashed in Jake's mind in a much different context.

He cleared his throat, "Just take it easy." Disappointed in the departure, he hesitated to let your frail wrist continue its work without his grip.

The stinging on his face distracted him some from his hard-on, and all seemed to be going smoothly. But he noticed something...

It must've been completely unintentional, just your natural flow of movement. Nonetheless, every time you tugged at the suture, your hips shifted forward and back in a rolling motion. Along his much bigger thigh.

"God..." Jake sighed, unaware his curse could double as an outlet for his painful procedure.

"I know, we are almost done." You soothed.

Once more you shuffled and this time further up his leg so your chests dusted against one another. Here, Jake noticed, the comparable size in your torso's and shoulders. He was broad, and more lengthy, whereas you were slim and petite. This crossed his mind and his jaw began to hang.

How he wanted to grab you up then and there to put this whole 'size thing' to the test.

[autisticsupervillain]

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 8

A/N: Hi ducklings! here is illicit 8. It's a bit shorter bc- being honest- I didn't put as much smut in this series as first intended and we needed to see more, and the next part is going to be a bit more action packed. I will definitely be doing blurbs and extras for them to fill in blanks for you guys

Check out our Patreon for early access to the rest of the series and 150+ exclusive writings

Illicit Masterlist

WC- 2.3k

Warnings- mentions of mental illness, stalking, smut, breeding kink/ mention of cumplay

————

“There you go, my sweet girl.” His raspy voice made her shudder in combination of his cock pressing into her and stretching her open. After a night with their friends, Harry had been the needy one, dragging her out and bringing them home to take her the way he wanted. She had been a tease in that dress and he had been quick to rip it off and toss her like a rag doll onto the bed. “Feel that stretch, yeah? Feels good in such a tight cunt.” His nose brushed against hers, smiling to himself at the feeling. “Always feels so fucking good.”

It was addictive. It had always been with them, since their first time, but it only grew every day. He’d never imagined he could love someone so fully, so wholly, but he did. More love than he ever gathered possible seeped out of his skin and tried to sink into her with every time he touched her. She reacted to every single kiss, every brush of his fingers. Being in tune with someone like this had shocked him- but he loved it. 

“Fuck.” Y/N’s head rolled back, neck exposed as his lips trailed down to the silky, delicate skin. It was hard to concentrate on anything when he was making her so full, his lips moving down and leaving hot kisses to the sensitive skin to make her whine. “You fill me so.. so good.” She exhaled, fingers tangled in his hair. Skin against skin always made her feel some type of way, but it was becoming glaringly obvious as months went by that any sort of sex with Harry was more meaningful and intense than anything she’d experienced in the past. 

“Little fuckin’ tease, S’what you are.” He nipped her throat, groaning slightly when he felt her hips buck at the feeling. His sweet girl liked a tiny tinge of pain that he was always happy to deliver. “Put on that dress jus’ so I could take you home and fill you up.” It was ridiculous how easily she could work him up. It was like the woman had a step by step guide on how to make his belly hot and his cock hard, but then her sweetness and giggles made his heart swell and turned him into someone insatiable. After spending a lifetime thinking the only sort of love he was going to have would be for money and power, she had side swept everything off the table and become the centerpiece in his heart. 

“Always want you to take me home and fill me.” She breathed, legs tightening around his waist. “Think- think people were taking pictures of us.” Her breathing caught as he delved his cock in deep, grinding against her as he was stuffed to the brim inside her needy pussy. It was so wet, weeping for him to keep her full, and he was a man who liked to deliver to her. Her words made him smirk. 

“Good.” His head tilted up, letting their swollen mouths brush. “I want them all to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours. No more hiding you. I refuse to keep you hidden when you’re the one I love.” He breathed, placing a kiss on her lips as he pulled out to shallowly thrust back into her. “Cause I love you so much, and you’re going t’be my wife. Gonna be the one to carry my babies and make me a father…” 

He surely felt her clench up at that, her breathing catching in her throat as he spoke like that. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but the knowledge that he wanted her forever- that he was planning on keeping her all to himself and giving her the most intimate and special gift he could? It fueled something in her. Her body got hit over the fact that she was going to be the one to give him children. Fuck Katherine, fuck her leaking their photos, Y/N was the one that was going to win. She already had. Harry was balls deep, inside her guts, telling her he loved her and wanted to marry her and give him babies. What else could she possibly want? 

“Ooohhh… look at that.” He cooed, pulling out and giving a bit of a harder thrust. “Baby likes that, hm? Like knowing M’gonna keep you forever? That you own my heart and soul…. Mm, that I’m going to…” he smirked against her lips, words pausing for a second as the pleasure of her heat wrapped around him felt a tad bit overwhelming. “M’gonna keep cumming in you, all with the hope that I knock you up?” Maybe it wasn’t exactly ethical but sometimes… The man hoped that they’d be in the 0.1% that had a pregnancy despite birth control. “Cause I think about it every single day.” The last three words were spaced with kisses. 

“You do?” She breathed, eyes lulling as she rocked herself against him as he fucked into her. It felt like she was submerged in a warm bath, full and complete with hazy vision and muddy hearing of anything other than them as he nodded. His eyes were full of promise, of a heat she hadn’t realized riled her up so much. Harry didn’t lie to her, he didn’t say shit for the fuck of it. If he was saying it- he meant it. 

“I do.” He chuckled. “I think about it every time I finish inside of you and watch my cum drip out of you. S’why I push myself back in, keep it there for a little while. Sometimes it’s why I keep going and end up making a second, third round. My body keeps telling me… my heart, they tell me to knock you up, sweetheart.” He crooned, hooking his thumb over her chin and pulling her lips open so he could lick into her mouth as he fucked into her with a little more fervor. It wasn’t just Y/N that liked this talk. He was hot under his skin. 

“Think about my ring on your finger and adding my last name to your first… I think about you swollen with my baby, having a piece in me as you walk around. Want you to be known as mine. Let them take those pictures because… it’s going to be so fucking obvious when you’re on my arm, your belly round with my baby in it. Fuck.” He let out a shaky moan before he adjusted,‘spreading her legs out further. “Every fucking day, I hope it catches. Hope that you forget… gives me a chance to fuck my load into you n’give you my baby. My pretty little future wife.” 

Y/N mewled at the words, her tummy sparking with the way he was fucking into her and the added arousal. They could hear she was getting sloppy and wet from the talk, but Harry had always been masterful at words when it came to her. He’d been able to manage to completely unravel her with whispers. She wanted it desperately. The knowledge he loved her that much, was so proud of having her and protective? It was one of the hottest things a man could do. 

“I want it.” She whispered. “I want you to marry me and- and I want your last name and ring…. Please,‘I want your babies.” Her fingers tugged him down and smeared her lips against his as she tried to kiss him the best she could- but it was hard as his thrusts were deep and rustling her on the bed. “M’yours. She-she played pretend but I want your babies. I want them all to know I’m yours, H. Please.” The slight tug on his hair made him growl. 

“M’going to baby. Gonna get you properly bred, fuck my baby into you and… and gonna make sure everyone knows your mine. Make an announcement, tell them all. I don’t care, I want everyone to know.” 

It still astounded him how possessive he managed to be over a lover. It had been a direct change to what he’d known prior. There was an overwhelming need to make sure she and everyone around them would know that he held the key to her heart- but even more so? She held the key to his. No- she held the beating organ, bloody in her hand. It belonged to her. A flip had been switched and he’d understood what all those people talked about in movies and songs, that all encompassing fuzzy feeling in his body when he thought about how much he loved her. Love, romantic love, an emotion he’d never thought he could feel before. Y/N had changed his life in more way than she’d ever know, and now he wanted to build that life into something even greater. 

“Jus’ lay there for me and let me practice putting a baby in you.” He crooned, buried to the hilt inside of her weeping hole. “Cause m’not gonna stop at one. Gonna give you as many as I can.”

—---------

In the bliss of a messy, orgasm filled night- Y/N should be completely boneless and at ease. And to be fair, she mostly was, but that little inkling of unease that had been in her gut since Katherine had gone missing. It was hard to be comfortable knowing she had broken into their safe space not just once, but twice. At least that they’d known of. Their privacy had been invaded and despite the measures Harry took to make sure there were no future break ins, it still had her a bit on edge. 

Moving in for real had helped a lot, knowing that there was now real security in the elevators and outside the doors, even having made friends with the one that was stationed in their foyer. But it was just difficult for her not to be a bit jumpy, rechecking locks and closing curtains even when she knew there was no way someone could see in. While she didn’t think Katherine was actually going to hurt anyone originally, having everything stripped from you and nothing to lose was a dangerous thing. The worry was more so for Harry than herself. The man was not as cautious about his own safety as he was hers and it made her anxious. 

Having a confident man was nice, but she didn’t want that confidence to turn into delusion. Harry had been the catalyst to her downfall and she knew it wasn’t something a woman desperately clinging to the validation she no longer had would take too nicely. 

“It’s been too quiet.” Y/N said against Harry’s bare chest, fingers fiddling with his necklace as he played with her hair. “I’m getting nervous.”

“I don’t know where she’s hiding, but they will find her, baby.” Harry promised, turning to kiss her forehead. He needed them to. He couldn’t propose on good conscience without her behind bars. “I’ve got people looking for her.” Maybe hiring PIs was a bit much but he didn’t like the idea of not knowing where the woman was. She was unhinged enough to break into their home, who knew what else she would do. His reservations mostly followed the idea of Y/N being hurt. He had a good idea on how to take care of himself but his Y/N was a gentle soul. She wouldn’t like any sort of violent confrontation and god knew that Harry would lose his head at the mere idea of someone hurting his love. 

“I know you do.” She mumbled, burying her face into his neck and inhaling his scent. Soap from their shower the night prior, a little bit of sweat considering she was all over him at night, and cigarette. He’d had a smoke in his office before coming back to bed to wake her up. “I’m not one to call people crazy, especially women, but I don’t think she’s well mentally, H.” There was that tinge of guilt in her stomach, though she knew it wasn’t her fault. Realistically, Harry had made the decision to get with her out of the fact that it wasn’t a real relationship. It had been a means to an end and he’d never sugar coated a thing with the girl- there was no sugar coating when it came to this man. “I just hope maybe she’s checked into a mental health rehab or something. I know she relied a lot on validation and superficial things. Maybe she understands how finite those things are and she needs to look deeper?” 

Unlikely, but Y/N was an optimistic, sparkling woman who looked on the bright side. How did she ever end up with cynical, pessimistic Harry? He’d never understood but thanked the skies every day for. His bright sunshine in the cloudy recesses of his mind. 

“I hope so too, baby.” He sighed, pulling her back to lay flat on top of him, pulling the blankets over their forms to trap the body heat in. She ran cool and he made sure to keep her warm as best he could. “I wish I could say I see that as an option, but I don’t. People don’t just change that quickly.” At least, not in that way. He was being a bit hypocritical considering his world had entirely tilted on it’s axis when he met Y/N but he never claimed not to be one. “I’ve got eyes all over the city so I’ll know when she comes back in or if she crawls out of whatever hole she’s been hiding in so far. I’m going to make sure you’re safe at all times, okay?” His voice was the type of soft it only got when they were alone, the truth in it making her relax a bit more. 

“Okay, H.” Her lips brushed over the hair on his chest, pecking right over his beating heart. That was all that mattered to her.  Even in the moment of peace, the lingering unease didn’t disappear completely. The girl just couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. She just didn’t know what.

[chvnnie]

im extremely mentally ill

bro CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT HOW THIS MAN IS THE LITERAL DEFINITION OF A DILF.

idk how i got where i did. this isn’t good. don’t read it it’s so bad but god my mind is going crazy.

Like everyone is well aware of it. You, your friends, strangers on the street. It would be hard not to notice him; effortlessly handsome even when he’s dressed down. Curls puffing out of his hat, twisting up the side of it. The sleeves of his shirt are a little too tight — the fabric stretches every time his involuntary flexes.

God, sometimes you even find yourself staring. You’ve always been head over heels for him, but something about…seeing Chan as a father…

It’s literally just breakfast and you’re already having to fan yourself. He sits across from you, your daughter sleeping soundly against his chest. Your husband hums as he flips through the menu, eyes tracing each word carefully.

His hand flexes. Is it too early to ask for the check?

“What are you getting?” Chan doesn’t look up from the menu.

“Um.” You clear your throat, shaky hands reaching for your glass of water. “I’m not sure yet.”

When he finally looks at you, eyes lighting at the mere sight of the love of his life, he smiles. “Well, what are you hungry for?”

You. “I’m not really—um—too hungry.”

What has gotten into you? Your skin is on fire as if it isn’t almost below freezing outside, your nerves bleeding through your skin like this isn’t your fucking husband.

Your husband. Who now has a hand on his daughter’s head, leaning down to kiss the top of it.

“You need to eat something, baby.” His other hand takes yours. Softly strokes your knuckles. “It’s important to fuel your body.”

Eating is the last thing you want to do right now. If anything, being in the restaurant is nearly suffocating. The urge to be home with your husband, feeling his hands run over your body is all you need for fuel.

“You’re spacey today.” Chan squeezes your hand. “Want to talk about—“

“Can we go home?”

The question catches him off guard, wide eyes blinking as he processes it. “Yeah, of course but why?”

“Because if I spend one more second without you inside me, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

Chan chuckles softly, tongue peeking out to wet his lips. Letting go of your hand, he looks up at the right moment. The waitress, who hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off him either, is headed your way. She barely gets to the table.

“Check, please.”

[siconetribal]

Sick Day

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Illness, feeling sick, alone, fluff, care

Request: I was hoping for a fluff/ comfort one shot fic with the reader suddenly gets sick and loki takes care of her

A/N:

This was a request made by an anon, and I'm hoping I did a good job. I'm sorry it took longer to post this than I anticipated. I hope you like it!

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

You can find this story and my other works on my master post.

Everything hurt, her body felt like lead with an intense gravitational force that kept her plastered to the mattress. A constant throbbing pain slowly pounding in her head, starting from the swollen pressure in your eyes to the rest of her cranium, which felt as if it were waterlogged. The room felt like an icebox, but her body was a furnace running at max, with fuel poured in to keep it blazing hot. The icky clammy sweat was the icing on the cake that made it clear that she was not ok, and would need to call out of work today.

Great, just what I needed on top of everything else. Y/N felt the sting of tears start. She wanted to wish them away or somehow distract herself, but she had not the energy or the drive. After a hellish week of mishaps and terrible luck, she was exhausted. And now, here she was laid up in bed in her apartment, unable to go to the one place that helped keep her hands and mind busy enough to not count the series of unfortunate luck she was having. A good cry could possibly be helpful, she deserved it. Taking a deep breath failed miserably as a series of bone rattling coughs left her more breathless than before and forced her to turn over. Her nose burned, and her sinuses were sealed off. Laying boneless on her mattress, she let out a low whimper. Added to her list of ailments was the inability to use her nose nor have a good cry. Forget icing, the icing ran the cake over with a bulldozer before catapulting it into the next galaxy.

Y/N grabbed her phone and dialed her boss. As much as it hurt to talk, she needed them to hear just how dead she was to know she was faking any of this. With the approval of her sick day, she rolled over and threw off her blanket before her hazy mind slipped back into the depths of sleep.

“What’s the matter, Loki? That’s the tenth time you’ve looked at your phone in the last hour.” Steve raised a brow at the odd behaviors of the odd royal that came to join them. He braced himself for a snippy remark, mentally reminding himself that any reaction would only encourage the ex-villain, but nothing came. He sat back and silently watched the prince. Had he not heard him speak?” Loki, is everything ok?” Still nothing. “Loki.” he called a little louder.

“What?” The younger prince finally looked up to see who was speaking to him. Normally he would show his disdain and reluctance, but that was not important right now. There was something more pressing on his mind that even the brown nosing of the super soldier meant little to him.

“Is everything ok? You keep looking at your phone.” Steve pointed to the device that was face-up on the table. The fact that it was on the table for all to see was a shock in and of itself, since everyone knew how much he disliked the device, considering it a leash for them to keep tabs on him only. 

“Hm, yes,” he absentmindedly mumbles the answer as his gaze fell to the device. He tapped it awake once more and frowned.

“Are you waiting on something?”

“Hm?”

“On the phone, are you waiting for some sort of communication?”

“The mission won’t be an issue. You needn’t worry so much.” Steve let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. Reaching over, he tried to grab for it, but Loki reacted faster. He snatched it off the desk and glared daggers at him, startling the New Yorker. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you can, by answering what I’m asking you. You’ve been hung up on it for the last hour, and you never pay that much attention to it usually. What’s going on?”

“It’s a personal matter, none of your concern.” Loki coolly responded as he pocketed the device for safety. “If you’re concerned about the upcoming mission, you needn’t worry. I’m fully capable of focusing when required. If you’ll excuse me, I've got somewhere to be.” Before Steve could even respond, he was out of his seat and vanished from sight.

The Trickster reappeared in the legal department, walking down the halls until he reached a door with a name engraved into a plaque beside the door, with the title of a lead attorney just below it. Without even knocking, he walked in to see a young woman engrossed in a document on her computer screen.

“Leave the file in the bin, I’ll look at it later. Thanks, Ricky,” she waved to the mesh desk organizer that was already filled with other manila folders.

“Meredith, have you heard from Y/N?”

“Loki?!” She napped her head, shocked to see him. “How many times have I told you not to just appear in my office?”

“I didn’t, I walked in through the door. Now, Y/N, have you heard from her?” He pressed on, taking a seat without her invitation. Normally the annoyance that brought her was pleasant to him, but his focus was elsewhere. The normal treasures of his days were dull and meaningless, painted grey at the concern that gnawed at his mind.

“Y/N, no, not particularly, why?” She frowned, pushing her glasses up to rub her eyes. “Why do you ask, did something happen?”

“She has not answered my text. Granted, she is not always readily available, but she usually replies by noon. If anyone knows anything about her, it would be you.” His matter-of-fact town earned a small twitch from the lawyer.

“Let me check my phone,” she knew better than to argue with him, and Loki smiled in appreciation. He had little time to deal with menial things. Y/N was not answering him, and that was of the utmost importance. Y/N, she was a beautiful and brilliant young woman who found a way to thaw his icy heart and show him that he too deserved kindness and love. That he was not simply a monster because of what he had done. He was flawed, and it was perfectly fine to be flawed. If anyone were to ask him, saying he loved her was far too little. It barely scratched the surface of the many ways she brightened his world and brought color back into his life. It would take ages for him to count the various facets of her that made him smile and feel anything. She was his person, a far off dream that he had long forgotten.

“Yeah, she’s not picking up, one second.” Those words struck sharp and true, giving strength to the fear of the worst.

I have been extremely careful in my meetings with her to avoid any unnecessary attention. I doubt anyone outside of Meredith even knows of our relationship, since she is how we met. What if she came across a thug? Bank robbers infest this city like the rats. There’s a high chance there was some terrible driver who paid no attention in a fit of stupidity. Hasn’t she said that there have been stalkers? Mongrels that leer at any female? Once the thoughts started, they quickly poured out like floodgates ripped open. He watched Meredith as she spoke on the phone. He could see her mouth move, but his thoughts drowned out her voice. What if Y/N is hurt, and I am simply sitting her idly waiting for a text? His right leg began to bounce, the chair softly squeaking from the speed and force. 

“OK, she’s not at work,” he leapt from his seat. “But that’s ok. She is safe.” She quickly and firmly stressed, pausing to watch the words register. “She’s home sick for the day. According to what the boss said, she sounds pretty bad but,” before anymore could be said, Loki was gone in a flash. “She’s probably just tired.” She rolled her eyes at his lack of listening to what else she had to say. “Oh, thank you, Meredith, I’m so glad I came to you for help. Nonsense, Loki, it was my pleasure. She’s my dear friend, after all. Indeed, Meredith, had it not been for you, I would’ve never met her. Oh stop, it was a coincidence!” She grumbled out the imaginary conversation with herself as she put on her glasses as she got back to work.

A cool sensation earned a soft sigh of relief from Y/N. She had been warring with her body temperature on and off for several hours now, but she nothing seemed to work well or long enough. Whatever she had done the last time was clearly the right thing to do. What did I do again? Her sluggish brain tried to recall what she put on her forehead, but she was drawing blanks. Wait, that’s right, I didn’t put anything. She forced her heavy lids open, blinking a few times to get the function working properly. She notices the blinds were down, and her fan was oscillating on a low setting. Her comforter was off to her right, but a light blanket was over her body. 

She carefully reached up to feel a wet towel placed on her forehead and a basin with water was on her bedside. What caused concern was her desk chair. It was not beside her bed instead of across the room. Had she moved it in her feverish state of mind? She slowly sat up, her body groaning in painful protest. The world began to spin, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Breathing from her mouth, she tried to regain some stability.

“Darling, you should not be sitting up so soon. You need to keep the towel on your head.” The distant voice slowly grew louder as a pair of arms helped ease her back, but she resisted. There was only one person who called her darling, and she felt torn.

“No, I don’t wanna.” Y/N mumbled, leaning against him. “Loki, you shouldn’t be here, I’m sick.” She sniffled, one of her sinuses considering this the perfect time to drain itself. Great, I look disgusting, and he’s here to see it all! She tried to pull away, but his grip was stronger.

“Nonsense, whatever diseases you Midgardians carry has no effect on me. I am a Frost Giant, I lack the temperature necessary for such weak viruses to grow. Most importantly, you need someone, and I would be a fool to allow someone else near you in such a vulnerable state! Now, lean back against the pillows. I’ve brought some medicine from that shop a few streets down, and I’ve ordered your favorite soup. According to your precious internet, when someone is sick they must stay well hydrated, take proper medication, rest, and eat. You seemed to have been locked up in your room with no form of air circulation. So I did the best I could without opening your window and possibly worsening your pain.”

“You searched what to do online? On your phone? The ‘brick of uselessness’?” Y/N raised a brow at this sudden deluge of information. Equal parts shock and warmth pooling into her stomach, tugging a smile from her chapped lips. “You didn’t have to come here, it’s fine. I could’ve just ordered food and medicine from the app.”

“You could have, yes, I would never argue that. You are quite capable and very self-sufficient. You live in this tiny hovel and are well-fed through your dedication and hard work. There is no doubt in my mind about what you could have or would have done. I am here because you do not have to. You have me and I, for the first time in my life, want to do for someone else…for you, Y/N. I was a sick with worry when you never messaged me back, and when I learned of your falling ill, I came as quickly as I could. To see you here, so frail and alone, my heart felt as if it would twist right out of my chest. Majority of the day I wasted doing nothing while you were here, suffering alone. Please, do not turn me away. Let me help you, be of some use to you.” He lightly nudged the tissue into her hands.

“Ok,” she softly whispered. It was the only word she could think of saying. How long had it been since someone last cared so much for her? Worried about her and when out of their way to be here? And he even thought highly of her and her occupation, which everyone else probably thought nothing about. Even her own family made remarks from time to time about what a waste it was, or that she should simply marry and stay at home. It was nowhere near as grand as his, and yet he did not belittle her. Her eyes stung with tears that she blinked back and blew her nose.

“Thank you, love. Now, I am no physician, but I’ve managed to gather necessary medications for the most likely ailments you may have.” He pulled up a plastic shopping bag filled with all sorts of syrups and pills, a mix of brand name and store brand. The long receipt tumbled out as he fished through it, unfurling into a large mess beside him as he pulled out the necessary painkillers and fever reducers. An image of him standing in the aisles, seriously reading through every single item flashed through her mind and she giggled. He was about to open every single one of the boxes when her hands shot out and grabbed his.

“I don’t need to take all of those, that’d be a different issue of overmedicating. I’ll take some cough syrup and maybe one of the painkillers when I eat. Better to have something in case my stomach is a bit sensitive.” She explained, grabbing the brand she normally used.

“Is that so? No one said anything about that when I was looking online. If such a thing is possible, they should be more mindful and make it clear that everything can be dangerous to your kind.” Loki frowned, eyeing the bag suspiciously as she took it.

“Everyone knows it, so it’s not something normally.” Y/N lightly shook her head, wincing at the taste and pain from swallowing. “I just hope this fever breaks soon.” She leaned back into the pillows.

“Yes, they said a cold towel to the head would be useful, but perhaps I can offer something better?” She let her head roll to the side to look at him. There was a glimmer in his blue eyes, a glimmer that normally screamed danger, and he should be stopped at all costs. 

What could he possibly suggest that would be dangerous? I’m sick in bed anyway, not like I can physically stop him. “And your idea is?” She hesitantly asked, unsure if it was wise to given even this small inch of an opening. He remained silent, eyeing her for a moment before standing up from his seat. To her surprise, he untucked his shirt and undid the top two buttons before climbing onto the bed with her and wrapping her up in his arms. Alarm bells blared in her mind, screaming danger and telling her to run, but she was a deer caught in the trap with no way or nowhere to run.

“This, I will be your personal cooler until you feel better. It’s certainly far more efficient than a silly little towel, and I get to hold you. It is what you call a win-win. Ah, ah, before you protest, I do not get effected by the pathetic weak viruses of your race. Now, be a good girl and let me take care of you.” He pressed his lips to her temple.

The danger is him and to my heart! I’m going to be even more overheated than before! She quickly hid her red face from his sight. Perhaps my luck isn’t so bad after all. She snuck a peek at him to see his eyebrows furrowed together as he intently read the cough syrup information. I get to spend time with him. She smiled to herself as she rested her weight against his cooler body. “Best sick day ever.”

Tags: @queenofstarsign85 @vbecker10

[scrupulosity-comics]

hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.