#evidence: like SO much group therapy

[tortoise-teapot]

solas haters are so annoying

like i promise you there are a million other perfectly good reasons to not like him besides "he's full of himself." which is the impression some people get after his dialogue in haven, and usually what they bring up in their crit posts. like... that's not even really accurate. hes a bit self centered sure (he's the type of guy who leaves only 1/8th cup milk in the bottle and doesn't write it on the shopping list) but at that time he's just infodumping.

if you're gonna hate him at least pick a reason that is true 🙄 for example unless you stop him he full on murders a scared guy who made a mistake out of ignorance.

"but robin he has killed a whole bunch of people! notoriously so!" i hear you i hear your point. the difference is that this time it was personal and in cold blood.

[catboybiologist]

So y'all may have noticed I've been posting a lot about progesterone lately. I'm at the point on HRT (just passed the 9 month mark [with the asterisk that my levels didn't get good until 7 months or so]) where I'm actively considering it. I'm waiting a bit more for a couple reasons, but its still on my mind a lot.

And it bothers me how much the "no compelling evidence for progesterone" line is floated around. And this is true, for the exact case of breast size in transgender women. And yeah, maybe this study has been done.

But I have two things that I think should be said about this:

1, there will never be a clinical study that studies the exact niche case of person that you are. That's why thinking about when results can be translated from a different group that has been studied, to your group. In my opinion, most information about cis female hormones can be translated to trans women. There's far less of a physiological difference than people think, and most of those differences are dictated by hormones anyways.

2, progesterone has an enormous number of effects beyond breast development, in both cis and trans women.

Why do I bring these up?

Take a look at this review paper (if you can meaningfully read it):

This is a review paper that I somehow only just stumbled upon that summarizes a lot of my thoughts about progesterone that I developed from other sources.

It primarily uses data from cis women, but also supplements with data from trans women when applicable, about the effects of progesterone. And, as can be seen just by the sheer number of topics addressed, it finds a diverse set of functions that it regulates and improves. At that point, any breast growth that may or may not occur is a happy side effect.

Progesterone is part of normal female physiology, just like estrogen. So why the hell is it not standard practice with HRT the same way that estradiol is? It just needs to be applied later. That's pretty much it.

[clrasecretdiary]

omggg ive really wanted to see a fluff fic where the BAU go ice skating as like a team building thing or whatever and Spencer keeps slipping and falling and holding on to the reader its so cute HISJHFSJKD

I'd pick you up and we'd go back in time | Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

just fluff!!

warnings: none

word count: 716 words

a/n: Heey! Just finished this one, it's my first ask (tysm btw!! <3). Hope you guys like it and hope i did justice to what you were imagining for the fic!!

It's the end of December and, surprisingly, you and the team are officially off duty until the next year. You guys decided to go out and have some fun, settling on the idea to go ice skating and then to dinner.

 Much to the dismay of Spencer, which besides being an academic genius, did not have any talent when it came to sports. If it wasn't for the scientific evidence, he would pretty much argue that he was born without the ability to balance himself, so any activity that demanded that skill was his worst nightmare.

"C'mon, spence, I can convince the team to go to your favorite restaurant after!" You said to Spencer over the phone, after he said that he was not going. 

"I don't know… you know I hate sports, I'll probably just fall and annoy you guys" 

"I'll teach you, and you know you won't annoy us. Also, we really miss you." You say, in reality wanting to say "I miss you" but scared that Spencer might pick up on your hidden feelings. 

He reluctantly agreed to go, but he was super nervous about it, scared that he would embarrass himself in front of his friends, or more importantly, in front of you. 

—

It now was the day you and the team had agreed on going ice skating, you put on your cute winter clothes and head out to the rink.

" Hey everyone, missed you guys so much!!" You say, getting close to the group that was standing at the entrance and greeting them all 

"Hi honey, you look stunning" Garcia says pulling you to a hug

"Thank you pen" You say, smiling to her. "Hey spence, i did not actually believe you we're going to come here!" 

"Yeah, me either. But I decided to do some exposure therapy, actually did you guys know that it was idealized by Ivan Pavlov in the late 1800s as part of is conditioning experiments?" - Spencer says, doing his usual rambling that you found extremely adorable. 

"Alright pretty boy, enough lectures, let's get in the rink" Derek says, making the team laugh. 

Upon entering the place, you happily notice that besides you and the team, it was pretty much empty, giving you guys a chance to have fun without worrying about others. You guys all get your skates, and put them on. As soon as you guys step on the ice, you felt a hand holding your arm, you look over and see spencer that looked as if his life was in danger. 

"It's fine spence, try standing up right and walking a bit, I'll be here to hold you so you don't fall down" 

"Alright then, if I die, please make sure my books don't get mold" He says, trying to take a few steps, surprisingly he did not immediately fall down, which gave him a bit of confidence to try and actually skate, also wanting to look tough for you. "I think you don't need to hold me anymore, y/n" 

"You sure Spence? Alright then" You let go of his arm and take a few steps back, still keeping a close eye on him. 

Spencer was able to skate for a bit, but somehow he managed to stumble on his own feet, luckily since you were still close he tried to hold onto your arm, not so luckily, since you did not expect that, you both feel onto the ice. The whole team looked over to you guys, as you stood up and helped spencer to also get up. 

You both we're blushing as the team laughed at you guys

 "hey Reid, at least you fell onto a pretty girl, could be worse" Morgan said, tapping spencer's shoulder and laughing. 

That made you guys blush even harder. 

"Hey spence, you ok? " You say, feeling a bit guilty for making him do this 

"It's fine y/n, falling is part of the fun I guess" He said, not sure he meant it but happy that he got to spend time with you outside the office. 

You spent the next hour teaching Spencer, and honestly you could not be happier, he looked adorable. It was one of the best evenings you had in a long time, and it just made your silly workplace crush worse. You also paid for his favorite desert at the restaurant to thank him for giving it a chance.

[tinydefector]

Ok ok i thought about this and for me it's sounds funny.

Sooo on the comic where everyone just found out that Rung is god you know where Rodimus, Rachet, Whirl and Tyrest and others having existing crisis and the part where Whirl said "God was my therapist" and then I thought about it, how funny it would be if cybertronian or human MC/reader said something like "I was fuck by said God" like if said cybertronian/human was in relationship with Rung and everyone reaction (plus Tyrest too since I think he's a god fanatic) 😂😂😂😂

XD omg so I had a bit of a joke piece about fucking God over in this fic. But it gets even better that thought of Tyrest being a God fanatic and hating Organics. The horror when he finds out Primus is with a human, watch this mech just break down.

Everyone's optics and eyes are on Rung, and the mech stands there wishing attention wasn't on him. Rodimus paces back and forth, Ratchet just stares off into a wall wish above all he wasn't here right now. Whirl, for the first time, is so quiet that it makes everyone so uncomfortable. And then there was the human just looking up at Rung in shock, dismay? They really didn't know how they felt in that moment.

Rodimus finally speaks. "OK, ok, but how the Frag!, Your Primus! All this time, you have just been what? Hiding on cybertron, having a vacation!" He asked. He was bitter about this, as much as he wanted to blame Rung for everything, cybertron falling apart, his home, and the matrix in truth it wasn't his fault. After all wasn't he doing the exact same thing, running away because he didn't want to be a prime, he wasn't suited for it, he didn't want to live in Optimus' shadow and have that shame over him. He'd take being co captain with Megatron over having to be in Optimus' shadow any cycle.

Ratchet, on the other hand, just wants a strong drink. He had never been a believe in gods, yet here he was finding out the the mech who had been the Lost Light's therapist, had been a neutral throughout the war, had a space ship collection older then some mechs was Primus. It was just his luck. "Does anyone else know?" He asked, trying to be the level-headed one of the group.

Rung removes his glasses, and the stress and exhaustion are very visible on his faceplate. "Drift, I believe, he's, he's always suspected something," Rung explains. He wasn't sure, but he's rather sure that Drift knows what he is.

Whirl finally laughs. "This is Fragged. How in the Pit did I end up this fragging, unlucky that my slagging therapist is Fragging Primus!" They shout, they don't know if they are angry, hurt or just overwhelmed, so much had been fried in their circuitry after the Emputra but this, this felt like a sick joke. All the things he had told Rung now feel like they were confessions.

Tyrest is baffled. He doesn't know whether to fall to his knees or call blasphemy, but the evidence is right there in front of his optics.

Rung is sheepish as he looks to the human. He's hoping they don't hate him. "I know this is alot for you all to take in, I'm sorry you all had to find out this way, I'm sincerely sorry for everything that has happened" He calls out to the group. He goes to continue only to be cut off.

"Fuck my life, Swerve is never going to let me live this down" the human stammers out. Everyone's optics are on them, a flush tints Rungs plating. "Please we don't need to bring that-" He's cut off again.

"The fact that I've unknowingly been getting Railed by Primus!" They exclaim only for Rung to hide behind one of his servos as multiple mech's Jaws drop at those words.

"HAH, and i thought I was Fragged!" Whirl screeched, finding humour in the situation. The other mechs look just as shocked and disgusted. "No, I refuse. That's blasphemy. Please tell me you haven't been interfacing with an organic!" Tyrest almost pleaded, hoping by the all spark that it wasn't true.

Rodimus pinches his brow ridge. He could feel his processor hurting from all this information. "Slagging Pit," he grumbles. " I Owe Sunstreaker so much Shainx now," he huffs. "OK, ok. Rung's Primus, and he's fragging a human." He throws his servos up in the air, being overly dramatic.

Ratchet just glares at the two. "They both of you are to report to medical for an examination after this, You" he points right at Rung. " I have some rather choice words for you," he states before stalking off, leaving.

The human looks at the floor, and the true panic is taking over. "Oh fuck, I've been fucking an Alien God who's also my therapist" they mutter to themself, tears starting to well up in their eyes and Rung kneels down cupping their face and wiping the tears away. "I didn't mean to upset you," he says softly. Optics focused on them. " I don't want this to change anything between us. You mean a great deal to me, and I don't want to lose you," he murmurs to them, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead.

The sound of the others arguing and fighting drowns out as Rung focuses on his little lover. "I'm not angry, Rung, Primus, or whatever name you want to go by, but... but I'm a human, a random fucking human so why me. Why me? " they nearly sob as he scoops them up, pulling them against his frame.

"My dear, I'm the the holy being everyone believes I am, I'm just a very old mech, who did what he could to stop something bad from happening, alot fo the tales told are very twisted stories. I'm just a mech, I'm not some holy being. And as for why you. You were the first person to remember my name, you took an interest in my hobbies, I would have happily faded into dust unknown but you choose me" he coos softly. Digits tracing their cheeks as he looks at them in pure love.

"But an Organic!" Tyrest hisses out as he watches how sweet and tender Rung is with the human. Is Rodimus who speaks up next. "Ah ah, remember each time to talk badly about organic races you lose Shanix which goes right into my account!~" Rodimus sings out, trying to make light of the situation for his own mental stability.

"You two are fragged and Slag, and I thought I had issues!" Whirl huffs before pointing at Rung. "Not a word about our therapy session to anyone, God or not, I will end you." Whirl nearly snarls before transforming and taking off.

"But you are Primus! You could have your choice of any cybertronian, pillars in your name cities, why have you hidden for so long!" Tyrest utters, he wants to be angry, but at the same time, this was Primus. How could he.

Rung meets his optics. "Because that's not the type of mech I am, I did what I had to to stop Unicron, I got sick of people trying to put me on a pedestal, I wanted to live, live my life, to enjoy hobbies, travel, I gave up my old frame for the ability to live" he states. He wouldn't change his choices even if he had the ability to. He was content.

________

MC: "Swerve get me a strong drink!"

Swerve: "heya what got you so rilled up, partner problems? Give me all the juicy details."

MC: staring him dead in the optics. "Swerve, Rung is Primus"

Swerve: "Well, I wouldn't call him that, I mean, he must be a good frag but doubt that"

MC: "No Swerve, Rung is Primus, I've been fucking your God, why me, how did I get to this point"

Swerve: "you know what let me get you a double"

--

Rung: "this is a mess, I need to get myself a Therapist"

Swerve: "well doc tell me all your woos, I'm the closest your gonna get for therapy"

Rung: " ships having a meltdown over my past and the fact I'm with a human"

Swerve: " eh, heard worse, your squishy things your Primus"

Rung: " yes, well that's also part of the issue"

---

Whirl: "soo.... Rung huh?"

Mc: "Please, I don't want to talk about it"

Whirl: "What part, the part where you're fragging the ships Therapist or the part where your Fragging Primus."

MC: "Oh my fucking God Whirl!"

Whirl: "Ah, ah, your fucking my God not the other way round!"

---

MC: "fuck you Tyrest, you owe Rodimus more money now, from being a Xenophobe."

Tyrest: "Like, I would ever let you within five meters of my frame you disgusting little creatin. Your insults mean nothing to me. Filthy little flesh thing"

MC: " just remember it's your Beloved Primus who's fragging me!, yea!, your beloved God prefers fragging me!"

Tyrest: *the most horrified noise ever* " You take the Blastphamy Back!"

__________

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[brucewaynehater101]

I want Duke included in batfam family fics. being the older sibling Damian needs, relatable yet guiding. Tim being ‘Dukes robin’ and having lots of respect for Tim yet he’d also steal his slice of pie. Duke and Jason hanging out, and Jason appreciating how he never tries to lecture him. Duke and dick matching vibes (or as much as they can) when on patrol and somewhat in the family, and both trying to make their brothers calm tf down. Bruce trying desperately to not fuck up with Duke like he did his other sons, only serving to confuse and slightly alarm Duke. Alfred and duke being the only ones with more then *1* braincell.

he also has so much potential for angst of being a meta in a family everyone thinks hates metas, and people somehow forget him???

(I have more just don’t have the energy to write it all down)

Heck yes! I agree that Duke needs to be included in more batfam fics (and especially as a more pivotal role). I personally try to add him a bit, but I fear I do not include him enough as a key member of the batfam.

Duke is hella important and should be treated as such. I'd love to see more fics with him pissing off GCPD for fun. Just chaos and pranks against GCPD, rogues, Batman, and the Batkids. Also, he should he allowed to punch (or kick) as many JL members as he pleases (Hal was just the first).

Duke and Dick having similar fashion ideas is a cute idea I've seen in the fandom. I would also just love to see more fanart of Duke rocking some fun outfits for galas (especially if the galas follow the AU of Gotham being super weird with their social norms). Duke being featured on magazine covers, being asked to model, and being interviewed would be cool fanwork ideas to play around with. I've seen so many of the other batboys and none with Duke as a magazine cover.

Here's my ideas on how Duke could interact with different batfam members. Feel free to reblog if you have ideas yourself or think the dynamic should be different.

I feel like Duke and Cass would get along really well as chaos gremlins who get away with their shenanigans. Messing with Commissioner Gordon is a favorite pass time of theirs. For some reason, even when presented with evidence, Bruce doesn't believe that Duke and Cass would do the things they get away with. It's both impressive and annoying to the other batkids.

Duke could have a weird relationship with Tim. On one hand, Tim is Duke's Robin. The cases he's solved, feats he's accomplished, and respect Gotham has for Tim's Robin in general (for being Batman's therapy kid) are unfathomable. On the other hand, he's seen Tim walk into the same wall four times within three minutes. They both share a love for riddles, but Tim can be an idiot at interpersonal relationships.

For Damian, Duke has seen how the world picks up kids and spits them out. He's seen kids lashing out, how they merely want to defend themselves, and how fantastic they are once you get to know them. He's been angry and spiteful at the world too. For Damian, Duke's hella impressed at the kid's heart despite all the shit he's been dealt. Duke would encourage chaos, talk with the kid about how different emotions have impacted Duke's actions and life, and is an overall supportive figure. They can often be seen doing both wild stunts and "common for their age group" activities for fun (although the game Sorry is banned because of them).

Jason and Duke would probably have a complicated relationship due to Red Hood's actions. Their similar childhoods (as far as economically and location based) would lead to jokes and shared customs that they chat with Steph about (such as Creepy Toe Joe or that specific gas station or the phrase they say as they passed that one pothole). Despite that, they have different viewpoints on Bruce and murder.

Duke is probably one of the more emotionally intelligent and communicative batfam members. If Alfred is the sassy version, Duke would get a good laugh out of those remarks and the astute observations.

Bruce and Duke angst could go hard. Bruce is trying so hard not to make his past mistakes. Duke and his perception of Bruce (he holds Bruce in high regard) and how that affects their relationship.

As far as Duke being in a "perceived to hate metas" family, that could either be hilarious or angst. I imagine people trying to intervene or "save" Duke from the Bats would be infuriating and sad to see.

Duke could also laugh at the batkids' superhero friends and how they, even as adults, are banned from entering Gotham. Duke is free to live in the manor and come and go as he pleases. Any of the batkid's meta friends have to be snuck into Gotham.

[i-like-rocks22]

I watched the Squid Game reality series so you don't have to.

1. It is just as grim and psychologically intense as the show. I went into it not knowing anything about the set up and expecting the format to have been changed to be less nightmarish; maybe the games would be fun versions, maybe smaller prizes would be available for individuals or teams, or different stages of the game would have different casts. Nope.

2. It isn't funny. It's overly dramatised (it's produced in the style of US reality shows so it really focuses on the worst in people). Something I didn't expect and was absolutely astounded to see is that the contestants have to fake being shot as a black inkpack on their chest explodes when they're eliminated. Some of them have a bit of fun doing an over dramatic fall to the ground. Most just sit down looking completely destroyed which, when you consider the format and the reasons people are there (severely in debt, can't retire, disabled children that need care) it's just absolutely vile.

(Honourable mention to the only funny bit of editing in the show: when the remaining 20 contestants get together in a circle to discuss the next task, the very American team captain gives a motivational pep talk consisting entirely of buzz words, then goes 'let's pray' and it immediately swaps to focus on the remaining Brits who look absolutely horrified (for those outside of the UK most Brits are either non-religious or very quietly religious and find overt showings of religion like group prayer really weird)).

3. Deeply uncomfortable by the editing and voiceover choices that repeatedly portrayed black people, particularly black women, as the 'villains'. It was very very noticeable. There was a particular interaction where a black woman was shown in a very negative light, and I am still unclear on what happened during the show (due to the choppy and unclear editing) and cagey responses from contestants in interviews after. VERY very strange, and has led to that black contestant receiving a lot of hate.

4. The amount of contestants breaking down emotionally through the show makes so much sense not only when you consider the conditions they were being kept in, but the sheer amount of bonus psychological fuckery that was included. Not just the main tasks but additional challenges, individual tasks, and public votes for eliminations. A lot of these happened at random in the dorm rooms meaning they had no true safe space in which to relax. The filming was evidently over at least a week and I can't imagine how emotionally exhausted they must have been. I hope the contestants would have been offered some therapy on leaving but I don't think that's likely.

5. The one shining light in the whole show was how, very differently to the original series, individuals started to work together much earlier and more thoroughly through the tasks. Lots of people offered support and words of kindness to those struggling and appeared to really bond. In the end, while a grim and unsatisfying watch, that was the one thing I took away.

I am perfectly happy to watch some trashy TV from time to time and I don't believe every thing you watch should necessarily be dissected for it's greater meaning. But, not surprisingly when considering the source material, this was so far beyond trashy; it was exploitative and depressing and I can't believe it actually got (excuse the pun) green lit.

TL:DR; the black mirror episode that would be based off of squid game? Yeah that was it.

[polychaeteworm]

Some otherkin positivity today:

I know a lot of us keep it a secret or start out not telling therapists because we think they will invalidate us because they don't get it, even though there's definitely psychological evidence of it.

So I'm really grateful for the therapists that have a "meet you where you are" approach.

My therapist is familiar with otherkin concepts and has stated he has other patients who are otherkin, but that my system is his first encounter with aliens. We are always the first group of aliens a therapist has met, even if they are familiar with otherkin and this guys way of dealing with it is so so so much better than every other therapist I've had and it's actually funny in a validating way.

He treats therapy like he's the human that has made First Contact and he's paid to do it. when I talk about the delusion I have where I feel like people are gonna find out I'm not human, in like a bad way, he will ask what might give me away and then happily say that "you'll be relieved to know humans do that too, AND we also worry about it!" In a tone that is more "wow the universe is amazing" than it is "c'mon snap outta it."

Good therapy exists.

[hiskillingjar]

Genderbend (All/MC)

day 28: genderbend second person. cw for dubious consent (drunk sex) and some (reclaimed) slur use. also general heads up for a trans woman's junk being referred to as a cock. be cool.

love you lesbians xo

🥀

"Mmph,"

You groaned softly against Law's lips as she pressed her body close, her slim hips bucking down against yours while she was perched in your lap. Her long skirt rode up her long legs and around her (heavily scarred) thighs, a firm grip on your shoulders, as she kept your body still with her own, rutting together on top of her bed.

"Ahhnn..."

You had gone round to her apartment after group therapy, since she had been kind enough to invite you round. You understood, in a way. You had spilled something particularly difficult during circle talk, and you were feeling delicate for one reason or another, and...well, one thing had led to another, as they often tended to do with the two of you.

Law kissed the same way she spoke at therapy; not at all and then all at once, her hungry mouth pressing down against yours and her probing tongue running over your parted lips as she inched closer, like she was desperate to have you, desperate to claim every inch of you as her own.

You kind of liked that. 

You'd always had kind of a thing for possessive girls, after all.

"Is this okay?" She murmured hotly against your lips, running the (bumped) bridge of her nose against yours as her blonde brows furrowed beneath her bangs, just slightly, worry clear on her pretty face. "I mean, I know group was...hard for you today. You said something pretty intense, so I just wanted to be sure-"

"Yes, Law, everything is fine," You interrupted her, curtly enough that she pulled back from the kiss, her face flushed and her kiss-bitten lips parting with a little surprise. "I mean...ah, sorry, I just don't need to talk about it, especially not right now and...you know, not with you. You know how it is..."

"Yeah," She nodded, reaching up to gently sweep a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear (her nails were painted black like yours were), nibbling her lip shyly. "Yeah, don't worry, I know what you mean...I won't mention it again."

"Thank you," You replied with a slightly uneasy smile, wiping your wet lips with the back of your hand as you slid your palm down her back to pull her in closer, enjoying her comforting warmth against you. "But, ah...do you think we can change this over?" 

"Hm?" She blinked her doe-grey eyes down at you, her expression curious despite how much her body trembled under your touch. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," You murmured into her shoulder, peering at where her laptop was perched on her desk, playing a video. "Jeez, Law, did you have to put on one of your websites again? This is...kind of distracting..."

Maybe you wouldn't have minded if she was playing something random, a romance movie or a bad porno, something to set the mood and to get the two of you hot and bothered.

But... 

Law's watching habits were a little, uh...unhealthy to say the least. 

You had tried to pretend the 'Best Gore' compilation she watched every time you were around, the times when the two of you would smoke yourselves silly and fuck all night long, was just footage from a particularly graphic horror movie, things you were acquainted with and enjoyed plenty, but...

You couldn't pretend every time.

You took a guess that this clip was someone getting hit by a car. Not the worst you'd seen, there was barely any blood and no audio, but still...it was just dehumanising and repulsive all the same, seeing someone die on screen. 

"It's...it's not that bad," She replied, though her cheeks were flushed a little darker like she had been caught doing something that she shouldn't have. You had a sense that she was self-conscious about this habit of hers, but evidently not enough to actually stop it. "Really, there's...a lot worse out there. This is a pretty tame one."

"I don't like that you said that," You mumbled, pressing your face into her shoulder, doing your best to not look at the screen as your hands slipped from her back and down to her hips, doing your best to still her as she moved. “I don’t like that there’s tame and…like, extreme to you. You shouldn’t watch this stuff.”

Your hands evidently did nothing to stop her since she groaned softly, rocking her hips down against yours and giving away instantly how excited she was. You would have been turned on, maybe even desperately, if your eyes didn't keep flitting to her laptop screen with a little frown.

"And it's really grossing me out," In your peripheral vision, you saw the next clip start to play; the grating teeth of a saw cutting through a living subject, a war injury, you assumed, while the guy screamed bloody murder. You instantly pressed your face a little harder into her skin and clung to her tight. "And killing the mood, ya know."

"Come on," She whispered, her low voice a gentle coo (almost maternal, if you wanted to get even more fucked up and Freudian and god, if she wanted you to call her 'mommy', you just might have), as she stroked through your hair and pressed closer too, letting her legs spread even more so that her skirt had ridden up completely, exposing the tight waistband of her tights, the straining gusset of her dark boyshorts underneath, the hard line of her cock. "It's just...how life is, you know? Sometimes, it's good to see death to make you appreciate how good you have it."

"Okay, John Kramer," You said with an uncomfortable laugh, though you could tell that she didn't get your joke when she kept going, taking one of your hands from her hips and guiding it up to her chest. Her small breast filled your palm nicely when you pushed your hand past her low-cut shirt and into the cup of her bralette, and she clearly enjoyed it when you touched her cool skin, since she was still moaning. "C'mon, Law, let's watch a porno or something. I wanna get in the mood for when you fuck me..."

"I don't want to watch porn. I don't like porn." Lawrence murmured with a little pout, shifting in your lap and reaching up to unbutton her shirt and slide it down her shoulders exposing her skimpy bralette and pale, freckled shoulders and chest, before placing her hands between your legs and unzipping your jeans. "Besides...you like horror movies, don't you? Just…think of this like one of those."

Once your jeans were open, her hand moved up to your stomach and slipped inside your underwear.

"Ahhhn..." You moaned as she pressed her fingers into your panties, shivering a little more as you held her tight and shifted your hips upwards, trying to urge her to press even deeper, feel the wetness of your cunt. "Law, please..."

"You know you like it," Her lips brushed against your ear in a gentle kiss, her voice going quieter than before as her fingers brushed up against each nerve inside you, relishing in your slick wetness. "Well, I know you do, anyway...and that's probably all that matters."

🦊

"Oh, shit!" 

You dashed out of the open doorway of the convention's midnight rave at the familiar sound of retching, running to the aid of the familiar girl who was hunched over in an alley by herself, fighting through your own intoxication and inebriation to help someone in need.

"Ohmigod, Ren, are you okay?" You said, kneeling behind her and rubbing a hand up and down her back, the silk of her cheap cosplay outfit smooth on your palm. "I'm soooo sorry I lost you at the rave, did you drink too much?"

"H-Huh?"

Ren glanced back at you over her shoulder, her short hair poking out under her wig, she was so disheveled, and vomit streaked down her chin, messing up her make-up. 

"Mph...y-yeah, I drank a little," She murmured with a heavy sigh, evidently fighting to keep in what little contents were still in her stomach, reaching up to wipe her teary eyes (and staining her gloves as she did so). "Guys kept buying me drinks while I was standing at the bar waiting for you too. Totally gross." She stuck her tongue out with a frown, letting her heavy head rest back against the brick wall of the alleyway. "H-How about you, are you drunk too?"

"Mmhmm," You said with a bashful smile, sitting down with her on the wet cement floor and rubbing her back encouragingly, trying to help her stomach settle. "I didn't get bought drinks though, so I'm not puking my guts out like you are."

"Mm, I'm not surprised," She replied with a tipsy, little giggle, letting her head rest on your shoulder as she curled up close, her tail grazing your ankles as it curled around you. "Like, I do look pretty cute. I think I deserve more attention because of that."

"Lower that ego, honey," You chuckled with a roll of your eyes, nuzzling your face against the shiny plastic crown of her wig, giving it a light tug. "Or don't...that confidence might actually have been pretty sexy if you weren't covered in vomit."

"Well, you're pretty sexy, too." She said, pressing her sweaty face up against your neck, scenting you, enjoying you as her tail began to wag more. "I think the nerdy guys didn't hit on you, because they were intimidated by how hot you are in this outfit. Not like I blame them, either."

"Oh yeah?" You said with a raised brow and a slight smirk, letting your hand drift down her neck, toying with the stiff collar of her blouse, down her slim shoulder. "You like my outfit, Ren?"

"Mmm, you know it." She purred (despite how much her voice was still slurring from intoxication), rubbing her nose against your neck as her own hands drifted down your front, feeling your soft chest while her golden eyes flitted up and down your face, landing on your lips. "I don't think I could keep my hands off you..."

You tilted your head, your smirk growing a little broader.

"Maybe you shouldn't keep your hands off of me then..." You suggested, leaning in a little closer, running your lips off of hers. "If you want to, of course."

Ren gave your collar a playful tug with a sharp-toothed grin, her fangs grazing over yours, before she placed a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a close kiss. Your body was supple and pliable in her hands, and you groaned softly into the kiss, pressing closer to her as she gripped the collar a little tighter, pinning your lips against hers, asserting her control, her dominance, even when she was drunk.

"Mine," She whispered against your lips, continuing to run kisses across your face and down your exposed neck, her hands roving over your body, feeling your skin beneath the cheap cosplay. Her breath was hot and warm on your throat and made you shiver. "Mine..."

“Possessive,” You murmured, chasing after another kiss as you threaded your arms around her neck, keeping her close. “And you taste like vomit.”

She giggled softly, her hands running further down your body, over the tight elastic of your thigh-high stocking and to the soft flesh spilling over the top.

"I think you taste worse." She pressed her mouth further down your neck, digging her nails into your thighs and letting her fingers slip up a little further, against the slowly soaking gusset of your panties beneath your skirt. “I’m gonna get a better taste, I think…”

Before you could stop her, she sank down onto her knees, the wet damp of the cement floor soaking into her own thigh highs, nestling her face beneath your skirt and cheap petticoat, and ran her tongue over the front of your panties, doing her best to get a taste of you.

You shrieked with delight at the action, letting your fingers curl into the cheap fibers of her wig and pull her even closer, rutting your hips down against her face, her tongue.

"Hm, I thought so." She teased, pulling back to breathe hotly against your cunt, your trembling thighs, pressing a harsh bite against the soft flesh. "Maybe I'll get the chance to do even more if I can drag you somewhere... quieter,” She cut herself off by pressing another bite left into your thigh, sure to bruise. “More private. So I can have you like I want you.”

"Why do you wanna do that?" You asked softly, a slight pout to your lips as you reached your fingers into the netting of her wig and tried to pull her in closer. "Whyyyy, Ren?~"

"I think you're cute when you're a little tipsy." She whispered with a teasing grin, pressing another hungry kiss against the front of your panties, her trembling hands on your thighs as they flinched at the action, making you moan. "That's why."

“Ngh, god,” You moaned, biting your lips as your hips shifted forward a little more, your heeled boots doing nothing to support your body as you slid slowly against the cement and the rough brick wall. “Ren, we’re both drunk, we shouldn’t…hah…”

“I don’t care about that, and neither do you.” She chided, almost condescendingly, and it was enough to make you blush (even if she was a lot drunker than you). “I want to have fun with you, you know that." She pressed another hot kiss against your panties, one hand reaching forward to tug at the sodden gusset and tug them to the side of your puffy labia. “And I’m going to have fun…and you’re going to, too, if you play along with me.”

She ran her tongue over the hot slit of your cunt, her golden eyes going hazy at your taste, at the sound of your hungry moan, at the feel of your fingers pushing her wig aside and fist into her hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” You moaned loudly, your head falling backward. “I’ll play along, I will.”

🔨

"Alright, let me just get the door."

Strade's voice was cheerful behind you, cutting through the haze of drunkenness on your mind as she took a set of house keys from a carabiner attached to her belt loop, giving it an idle twirl around her finger before she slotted it into the front door of her house. 

"You'll have to forgive me if the place is a bit of a mess," She mused with a hum, opening the door (and clipping the keys back to her belt) and running a hand through her short brown hair, before placing her hands on her full hips. "I've always been lousy at keeping a house. So much for gender roles, right?

You laughed a little uncomfortably as she gave you a playful nudge in the side with her elbow. She was a little shorter than you, but she still managed to make you nervous, which you're certain you would have been, even if you weren't a little drunk.

"Y-Yeah," You muttered, pushing your hair out of your face with a shaking hand as you followed her inside the house. "Um, do you think I can have some water or something? I'm feeling kind of nauseous."

"Sure thing, buddy." She said with an easy smile and a slight nod of her head. "Go sit down and I'll get you something to drink. Just relax, and I'll take good care of you"

Strade leaves you to it, making her way through the dark house and turning on the kitchen light at your side, still humming to herself, comfortable in the face of your obvious discomfort.

You let out a quiet sigh as you shambled into the living room of the house, noticing, even in the dark, a fairly tidy space, albeit one that had nowhere near the amount of personality that Strade seemed to have. Either way, you didn't let yourself worry too much about it as you sat down on the couch, resting your hands in your lap and letting your head droop down and your hair cover your face again, to stop it from spinning too much. 

You were really drunk. You couldn't remember how much you drank at the bar, but surely, not enough to feel like this.

You sighed again, covering your mouth as you began to feel queasy, a little worried that you might be sick before you reached back to your back pocket to get your phone, to shoot a text to your housemate so she knew you were okay, and maybe call an Uber to pick you up, hiked fare be damned.

Strade had been nice enough to look after you at the bar and take you home, but you really didn't want to be more of a nuisance to her than you already had been. 

She was really way too nice.

"Drink up." 

You flinched at the sound of Strade's voice in the silence of the house, glancing over your shoulder as she paced into the living room with a glass of water for you. You stopped feeling around for your phone when you couldn't immediately find it and gave her an appreciative smile.

"You're looking pretty rough," She teased with a little smirk, passing you the glass and sitting at your side, crossing her legs, a heavy army boot on her knee, and leaning back into the couch, a thick arm almost draping over your shoulder. "If you puke on my carpet, I'm gonna be pretty annoyed."

"I won't puke," You murmured around the rim of the glass after a long swallow of water, giving your head a quick shake, to which she laughed and reached over to pat your back and rub your shoulder. "Um, did you see my phone in your car, by the way? I can't...seem to find it."

"Hm?" She raised a dark brow in your direction before she let out another chuckle, her golden eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah, you mean this one?"

She took the phone from one of her front pockets, giving it a little wave as she held it up for you to see. The screen was black, which you could only interpret as it being dead.

"Mmhmm, thank you," You nodded, leaning forward to take the phone, and blinking curiously when she held it out of your reach with a teasing chuckle.

"What'll you give me for it?" She asked, her voice taking on a lower, slightly more sultry tone, distinctly different from the bright and cheerful voice you heard in the bar, enough to make you blush and flounder.

"Um...S-Strade, I'm pretty drunk," You said with an uncomfortable chuckle. "It wouldn't be right for us to...do something."

"Mm, you were the one who was thinking it though," She laughed, placing the phone down on her side of the couch, before moving in a little closer and placing a firm hand on your thigh. "Come on. I won't tell if you don't. It can be our little secret, hm?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes flitting down to her hand on your thigh, as her fingers toyed with one of the ladders in your tights and felt your hot skin. 

"I don't...think this is a good idea," You murmured again, holding the glass a little tighter, your hands shaking.

"So don't think," She said. "Just do."

You couldn't hold back a cry as she reached up to tangle her fingers into your hair roughly, pulling your head down to her broad thigh (making you drop your glass in the process) as her other hand reached up to unzip her trousers and wrestle them down her spread legs.

You were too drunk to really fight back as she pulled your head upwards and forced your face against the front of her underwear (she was wearing boxers, to your surprise), and your body was totally slack as she gradually began to buck her hips up against your face, a long groan on her lips as she bit her lips, her eyes open and feral and hungry.

"You know, I said I'd be annoyed if you puked on my carpet," She started, her voice a little more rasped as she reached up to pull at the waistband of her boxers. "But, ah...I guess I wouldn't care too much." She let out a dirty chuckle, as she pulled one leg from her trousers and boxers and raised it high, resting it on the back of the couch, spreading herself out for you. "As long as you cleaned up your mess."

Your mouth went dry as you looked at her, her thick legs spread, her cunt so wet that it was making the dark, matted hair that covered it and her inner thighs shine in the low light of the living room. 

Had she been this turned on when she was just speaking to you at the bar?

Or was it having you in her house, vulnerable, waiting to be taken?

You were too drunk to really consent to any of this, but you wouldn't have gone home with an older woman if you hadn't been hammered. Did the matter of consent really matter that much?

You didn't think so, not now, and clearly, Strade thought the same way.

"Go on," She said, gripping a thicker chunk of your hair and urging your face down to the hot heat of her spread cunt. "Eat my pussy like I know you want to."

You did as you were told, lowering your head to run your tongue over her slit, tasting the thick musk of pre-cum and sweat and hair, and everything.

Strade groaned through her teeth, low at the back of her throat, gripping your hair more tightly as she shifted her hips upwards to feel your tongue even deeper, your nose bumping against her erect clit and giving her a little more stimulation.

"Are you sure you're not a dyke?" She asked with another rough chuckle, as her spread leg hooked around your neck and pulled you closer towards her, tethering you and keeping you still. "Or have you just done this a few times before?"

You groaned softly at the slur, her rough voice and language, and the new tightness around your neck as you managed to run your tongue over the damp hairs of her cunt and circle it towards her clit, wanting to please her and to offer yourself a little relief at the same time.

"I'm gonna keep you here tonight," She crooned, rubbing her fingers against your scalp, bucking her hips against your mouth with such ferocity, that you were almost worried that she might break your nose. "I've got a cock upstairs with your name on it...mm, maybe something else too, I can get as rough as you want, baby."

"Mmph," You moaned, your eyes fluttering as your arousal gradually began to supersede your intoxication, and you grew more desperate for her approval. "S-Strade, please..."

"What's that, fraulein ?" Her voice was a surprisingly seductive purr, her thick accent growing thicker when she used her native language. "You want me to fuck you? You wanna take my strap-on like the good, little dog that I know you are? Is that it?~"

You really should have ordered that Uber.

"Please.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Kevin Ray

Published: Jun 27, 2024

I’m a gay man who is skeptical of the existence of a so-called “LGBT community.” The idea of this community is a belief rather than an objective truth, and I don’t affirm its existence for the sake of social niceties. Endorsing subjective beliefs to “be kind” is the behavior that landed society in the wreckage of Critical Social Justice activism. People have a right to their beliefs, and I have the right to write about why I don’t share those beliefs. 

Although there are indications that the tide is incrementally shifting, on much of the left, it is still the fashion of the day to view any dissenting arguments to popular subjective beliefs held by or about minority groups as anything from “not nice” to outright “hate.” I’d like this trend to go the way of bell-bottom jeans. That’s not going to happen until people get back into the habit of voicing their opposing views. In the interest of taking one small step toward ending “Cancel Culture,” I don’t ever say, “LGBT community.” 

The claim that an “LGBT community” exists must be supported by evidence that withstands scrutiny. The only evidence supporting this claim is a population of self-identified gay men, lesbian women, bisexual and transgender people living openly across the globe. But a population doesn’t make a community. Communities of affinity exist when members participate in events together and have a shared set of values. Many people within the LGBT population participate in communal events, but many don’t. The identity groups that comprise the “LGBT community” have extremely divergent interests, behaviors, and concerns—and share little in common aside from minority status that some relish in and others resent. Also, people who are gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender vary in a myriad of other identity characteristics and affinities, including age, race, political affiliation, citizenship status, income, and education level. The life experiences within this population are also varied. An out gay man in Seattle who enjoys the liberty of marching hand-in-hand with his boyfriend in a public parade has a wildly different life than his closeted counterpart in Tehran, who can be legally punished with up to 99 lashes or execution if convicted of sodomy under Islamic law. Everyone in this population does not meet together in communal celebrations, and they don’t share a monolithic set of values, behaviors, or life experiences.

Also, who is of this supposed community? Is a twenty-something man in a romantic relationship with a woman who, every now and then, decides to “take a walk on the wild side” with another man of the community? Is a thirty-something woman whose struggle with gender dysphoria desisted after years of exploratory psychodynamic therapy of the community? Was she of the community when she identified as male? Is she excommunicated now that her dysphoria has subsided? 

What about me? I happen to be a gay man; does that alone make me of this community? I used to go to gay bars, but I don’t anymore. I don’t attend events at the LGBT Center, and I don’t support it (or any LGBT organization) through monetary donations. I’ve never watched an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I don’t identify as “queer,” and I reject its political aspirations. Despite living in New York City for over thirty years, I’ve never set foot on the gay mecca known as Fire Island, and I haven’t been to a Pride parade since 2007. Am I to understand that, merely because I am romantically, intimately, and sexually attracted to other men, this makes me of a community? Do I decide what communities I belong to, or does someone else decide that for me? 

I believe this decision is being made for me to satiate other people’s political agendas. When the incantation of an “LGBT community” is cast, it is often followed by political jujitsu, asserting this “community” has a unified belief, cause, or demand, which I’ve already argued is false. In truth, this mythical community is frequently conjured as a cudgel wielded by the left to blame, shame, and expunge those not willing to capitulate to the latest LGBTQIAA2S+ youth activist temper tantrum. Conversely, it’s used by the right as a political “wedge issue” to frighten voters away from electing any Democratic candidate, be they moderate centrists, radical progressives, or anywhere in between. 

Worse, viewing the population as a community can superimpose the idea that this group needs protection. This impulse to protect had disastrous outcomes during the monkeypox (Mpox) outbreak that began in May 2022. On July 15 of that year, The NYC Department of Health and Mental Hygiene (DOHMH) decided to change its messaging about how the virus is contracted. Some within the department feared promoting abstinence might “stigmatize” gay men. Instead of honestly telling people about the risks of contracting the virus during sex, DOHMH said, “[f]or those who choose to have sex while sick, … sores should be covered with clothing or sealed bandages.” Whistleblower Dr. Don Weiss, a senior epidemiologist at DOHMH, knew this approach was dangerous, and took his concerns to The New York Times. In their response statement, DOHMH said, “For decades, the L.G.B.T.Q.+ community has had their sex lives dissected, prescribed, and proscribed in myriad ways, mostly by heterosexual and cis people.” However, when I am at risk of contracting a virus that causes extreme pain and possible lifelong scarring, I can’t afford other people’s identity politics and their virtue-signaling protection of imaginary “communities.” Rather, I want the best medical advice available and I don’t care about the identity of the person who gives it to me or what “community” the person giving me the advice comes from! Ironically, it was not the “heterosexual and cis people” at DOHMH who gave me the best advice about avoiding Mpox. It was Andrew Sullivan, a gay male journalist who took to his podcasst The Weekly Dish along with gay activist Peter Staley. Their advice was, “cool it for a month.” Sullivan and Staley did not make me feel “stigmatized” by promoting abstinence. They told me the truth, which made me feel that somebody cared about me and my well-being. 

Identity divisiveness needs to stop. I don’t use the term “LGBT community” because I don’t believe it exists, it reduces a diverse population into a blunt, monolithic group, it reinforces an “us vs. them” mentality, and, as I just illustrated, it could be dangerous to my health. It fuels division at a time when Americans desperately need to come together. 

This Pride Month, it’s worth remembering that rights for LGBT people were secured because of the common humanity appeal made by those who said, “We live, laugh, and love just like you, all we want is the same rights everyone else has.” It’s time to stop segregating LGBT people into a “community” that is separate and apart from our wider society. It’s also time to realize that much of this divisive impulse is coming from within the LGBT population, and something needs to be done about it.

Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender adults need to stop being afraid of what young LGBTQIAA2S+ activists might say and start speaking up. Each day that we don’t stand up to activist fits is one more day that someone else might get bullied, canceled, or worse. The inappropriate behavior of young activists must be confronted by adults who believe their behavior is harmful. LGBT grown-ups need to proudly re-assert that here and now is the best place and time to be out and proud, and it will only get better if activists stop behaving like the bullies who once persecuted us. Pride does not call for revenge for past injustices. The attacks on heteronormativity, the patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and the pronoun wars need to end; if civil rights for LGBT people are rolled back, it won’t be by “conservative” political maneuvering, it will be a self-inflicted wound caused by LGBTQIAA2S+ activists and their overblown tirades that eroded the goodwill and trust built over time by people who made advances through a common humanity appeal. Activists may not like “heteronormativity,” but they all have to learn to live in a world where the majority are heterosexual. Let's be frank—none of them would be alive without some heteronormative behavior, and they should show a little gratitude toward those who brought them into this world. 

If I were to speak to one of these young activists, I would share my message for Pride 2024, which would be this:

Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people are a minority, and that comes with challenges. Facing obstacles and overcoming them gives me a reason to get up in the morning—it gives purpose and meaning to my life. It’s also true that most people have challenges to navigate, so those who are LGBT are not unique in this regard. A life well-lived is not one spent wallowing in identity grievance and pursuing revenge for injustices you did not directly experience. Nobody is advocating for forgetting the wrongs that occurred in the past; it’s possible to recognize the history of injustices inflicted upon LGBT people in the past while also expressing gratitude for the wonderful advances that have been made. It’s your job to make the most of the hard-won rights that have been earned for you so you might use those rights to pursue a life of joy and fulfillment despite the challenges inherent in being a minority. It’s not always going to be easy. There will be good days and bad days. And while I can’t say there is a “community” to support you, there are many people among a population that know what you’re going through and want you to live life to the fullest. 

Happy Pride!

==

"A population doesn't make a community."

[charliespringverse]

i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time

and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary

whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty

but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him

and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here

it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth

but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)

anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine the Marvel cast finding out you’re suicidal.

It was strange, how you basically dropped off the face of the planet between shooting the movies that you were in, for the MCU. You had formed such a great family relationship with everyone, even the ‘originals’ like Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Robert Downy Jr, thinking of you as one of their kinds almost. You were the youngest, even younger than Tom Holland, so when they received nothing but radio silence, and there wasn’t a single story about you in the tabloids, for four months, they all grew concerned.

When you did come in for the first day of shooting, you looked tired. The make up artists did what they could for your dark circles, but it was evident that you had been through something. All throughout the day, Scarlett, Chris Evans, Elizabeth Olsen, they all asked you if you were okay and you gave them the thumbs up but they could all see that something was wrong.

You continued to wave them off but it got exhausting, so after the long day of shooting, you asked them to meet you by your trailer. The group grew larger - everyone that cared about you came out - The Chris’, Robert, Mark, Scarlet, Tom, Paul, Elizabeth, even Benedict was there, all of them looking at you with concern and curiosity.

“I only want to say this once,” You said, a little nervously. You couldn’t look anybody in the eye, not even Tom Holland, who was your best friend on set. “And then I don’t really want to talk about it again. But um - the reason why I didn’t reach out to anyone the last couple of months was because ... I was in the hospital.”

Instantly, Chris Evans put a comforting arm around you, worry filling his face. Everyone was expecting now some sort of medical diagnosis - especially after what had happened with Chadwick. They didn’t want to lose another friend. Another member of the team.

“I um -” You said, really not wanting to say it out loud. But you had been going to therapy, having to admit to your problems wasn’t anything all that new anymore. “I have depression. And ... I tried to kill myself.”

There were collective gasps and instant questions but you put your hand up. “I’ve been being treated for it and ... I think we’ve finally found the right combination of medication and therapy so ... I mostly just .. want to ask that you be a bit patient with me. I didn’t mean to blow any of you off. You all mean the world to me.”

You were met with the utmost support. Hugs and encouraging words and they all promised you their patience. But it was when they were alone, each one of them in their trailers for the night, that their minds really started to delve in on this new information. You were so young, you had so much potential, so much life ahead of you, what had gone wrong to make you have such terrible thoughts about yourself, about the world?

It made their mindsets different. And it made them treat you different, even though you had specifically requested no special treatment. They almost lost you, and they were going to do everything - bringing you breakfast to your trailer, running to you first to tell you a joke that they heard, sending you memes - they could to make sure that they never actually did.

Requested by: Anonymous

[carefulfears]

Can you compare the Irresistible hug and the Milagro hug please !!!!!!!!! I love Milagro so much

okay our best and brightest @scullysflannel already talked about this once but let's chat on it (+ unruhe because i watched it last night) just for you babes xxx

/ irresistible

irresistible is my favorite of the three, and my favorite scully trauma™ episode, as it's the most dedicated to the emotional progression.

this episode encapsulates an understanding that the x-files never shied from, that the scariest monsters are human men, it's pointless to pretend otherwise.

fresh off her abduction, a violation and loss of autonomy that she still doesn't understand, scully's reaction to the crimes of donnie pfaster is intimate: his victims are the dead, a group she's always been more connected with than most.

her grief and discomfort at the desecration of women that she's bearing witness to is so overwhelming, and it's something that she's alone in, as the men around her continue with business as usual.

as the investigation continues, scully decides to go back to washington, telling mulder that she'll "better drive this investigation" if she focuses on the evidence.

SCULLY: I'm not having trouble, Mulder.

MULDER: I'd understand, Scully. This isn't exactly easy to stomach.

SCULLY: I'm fine with it. Really. I just think we're a long way from catching this guy. If we could get a print, we'd have something to go on. Right now we're at a standstill.

MULDER: I think it's a good idea. I just don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me, Scully. I've seen agents with twenty years in the field fall apart on cases like this.

Scully: I'm fine, Mulder. I can handle it.

i love this scene. his response here is so perfect. apart from checking in and asking if she's okay a couple of times, he hasn't commented on her state of mind in this situation, but he knows she's having a hard time. he supports her decision to take a step back, playing along that it's a "good idea" for her to direct her attention to the tangible evidence, but encourages her to communicate how she's feeling.

and he tells her that to struggle with a case like this is understandable, it doesn't matter how much experience you have or your position, it's normal.

(another understanding that this show always had: to react emotionally to the brutality of the world and the exploitation of the vulnerable is human, it's the people who look at destruction unflinching who are wrong.)

back in D.C., scully sees her therapist. she tries, you guys. scully's "i'm fine" complex has never meant that she ignores a problem or shuts down, she tries to cope in a way that she's comfortable with. she removes herself from the scene. she goes where she'll be more useful. she schedules therapy.

MULDER: Are you staying on there, Scully?

SCULLY: No. I'm coming back tonight.

MULDER: Look, Scully. I know this is a pretty horrific case -

SCULLY: I'm okay with it, Mulder. Besides, you can use my help.

MULDER: Always.

after her session, scully decides to go back. she's okay with it. she's going to keep trying.

this is one of my favorite moments. she spends this entire episode putting on a front, he spends it meeting her exactly where she is; saying, "i see you," but only to comfort, not expose.

her "you can use my help," is one of their jokes. a way to say, "i'm okay, i'm ready," that's lighthearted and doesn't show too much. when he responds, "always," his voice has such a different tone. it's so earnest, and sweet. his response takes her very seriously, her contribution and state of mind and comfort.

she'd told her therapist, "i trust [my partner] as much as anyone. i trust him with my life...but i don't want him to know how much this is bothering me." he already knows.

(her smile on the phone, they are best friends)

i'm gonna borrow from the post linked up top for this next bit:

"Scully’s abduction is the major turning point in terms of how much the job affects her, and Irresistible is basically a replay of her abduction that gives her more control: she gets the catharsis of a fight, and she knows who she’s fighting (men)."

after being taken by pfaster, when she's found, she pulls out one more "i'm fine," but her suppression and image can't withstand confrontation. mulder gently lifts her chin, and the moment she meets his eye, she breaks down crying into his chest. she tries so hard, she has "always been the strong one," she did not want him to know that this was bothering her. but you can't survive it without facing it.

i didn't notice until today that her gag is still around her neck, she's still so ensnared. police are still making arrangements around them. it all just fades away though.

(he's whispering "it's alright," just for her to hear. when she moves her arms to hold onto him, pull him closer, his face breaks. he closes his eyes to keep from crying. he's so careful with her after her abduction, he's never had anyone come back before. this is a moment they're in together, a sort of catharsis after she returned. it's so foreign and painful to be needed, for the first time in so long.)

/ unruhe

unruhe, written by my beloved vince gilligan, is the most introspective that the x-files ever gets on the dichotomous reactions to gendered violence.

"She can hear him, still stomping around inside the trailer, no doubt looking through the pictures carefully, hoping for yet more insight into the depths of the now-dead serial killer’s mind. In the back of her throat, burning acid threatens to force its way up. The luxury of curiosity, she thinks."

-selbst

throughout unruhe, mulder is hyper-focused on gaining an understanding, attempting to find the killer (and at first, the abducted women) by looking into what has been left behind, and dismissing any other courses of action.

ultimately, nothing he does assists in the case at all, and it's scully's connections and discernments that locate schnauz, mulder and herself never on the same page. unlike irresistible's quiet contemplation and gentle understanding, they're consistently frustrated with each other.

(note that in this episode, scully is bound and held captive by a man obsessed with the loss of his sister. a dynamic that she is very aware of, as she asks schnauz, "why [do i need to be saved]? do i remind you of your sister?")

from the moment that schnauz's first victim resurfaces and they do the PET scan (something that only scully is able to read and understand, not mulder. something again rooted in her personal background), there is a shift in scully.

these women are being lobotomized, and they're being lobotomized incorrectly. schnauz is weaponizing medicine that he doesn't have proper knowledge of, and reducing these women into nothing. when mary lefante is found, she is unable to speak, except to repeat over and over the motivation of her captor ("unruhe," the german word for "unrest.")

things escalate when the body of the second victim is found, and in my favorite scene of the episode, mulder and scully quietly observe the remains in horror, before scully just walks off and gets back in the car (in the driver's seat, a rare occurrence).

MULDER: Hey, Scully, that word "unruhe", "unrest", is bothering me. Maybe he thought he was curing them somehow, saving them from damnation, from those things in the pictures, you know, he called them the "howlers."

SCULLY: It's over, Mulder.

MULDER: Well, then that photo wouldn't be his fantasy. It would be his nightmare.

SCULLY: What the hell does it matter?

MULDER: Because I want to know.

SCULLY: I don't.

(She starts the engine. Mulder stares at her for a second, then gets in the car.)

when mulder approaches the car to ramble about "unruhe," scully never looks over at him or makes eye contact. she doesn't wait for him to get in the car before putting on her seatbelt and starting it. it is over.

i've written about this before (in the previously linked post), but mulder always wants to believe that people who do evil things have a good reason, that they didn't really mean to. that they were just trying to help, or were just following a biological imperative. scully knows that it doesn't matter.

it's the ending of 2shy, when mulder is right, incanto is only killing women because he needs their fatty tissue to survive. and he looks at scully and says, "when you look at me, you see a monster, but i was just feeding the hunger." and scully answers, "you're more than a monster. you didn't just feed on their bodies, you fed on their minds."

what the hell does it matter?

ultimately, scully is forced to "empathize" with schnauz, to survive. she has to utilize the insights that mulder gleamed about him to forge a connection with him, and stall. (she is always listening, and she knows mulder is right. sometimes it just doesn't make things any better.)

as the situation progresses, when she hears mulder outside she's able to wrestle her arm out of its constraint and rip the tape off of her mouth. by the time mulder breaks in and shoots schnauz, she's all but freed herself.

mulder takes her hand and helps her up, and she bypasses him, walking out of the trailer into the light, with one last look back at schnauz. she leaves mulder with the body, as he's looking at the photos. (the luxury of curiosity.)

the only time that we see scully show emotion or vulnerability in this episode, is in the final frame. sitting alone in her apartment, she looks at the altered photos of herself, and her lip quivers as we cut to the ending credits.

where irresistible saw her actively trying to gain control, unruhe is more genuine. she's not trying to conceal anything, she's just tired, and she's alone.

/ milagro

ah, milagro. quintessentially season 6 in a way that i can never establish as positive or negative.

milagro is all about desire: a desire for attention, for approval, for relevance. it's only fitting that it should be so punishing.

ultimately, milagro is about voyeurism, and we have this represented through our monster-of-the-week: scully's stalker phillip padgett.

when scully meets padgett (who had recently moved into the apartment next to mulder) in a church, it's to observe the painting displayed there, "my divine heart."

as he reveals that he knew she would be there to see the painting, as well as many personal details that he has "noticed" about her, it's a heavily emotional discomfort to be so seen.

so much of this episode builds in padgett's apartment, just one door over from mulder. when scully knocks, she tells padgett she was on her way next door and just thought she'd stop and return the milagro charm that he'd given her (a symbol of a burning heart) because she "can't return the gesture."

we talked about this when we talked about small potatoes, but this episode is...embarrassing for her! the kind of attention that she craves is embarrassing to her.

when she comes into padgett's apartment, padgett remarks that it's because she's "curious." she notices things too.

SCULLY: Well, you lead a curious life.

PHILLIP PADGETT: It's not so different from yours I imagine-- lonely.

SCULLY: Loneliness is a choice.

loneliness is a choice, babes! the way that small potatoes ended in classification of mulder as a "loser by choice" (for all of the things he could have, and all of the things he chooses not to pursue), and scully absolving him of that criticism, milagro puts the agency of this mutual repression back onto scully.

(choice and agency is a very important reiterated theme in scully's character. this whole thing only works if she chooses to be here.)

and when mulder comes in to arrest padgett based on evidence found in the murder case, scully is in his bedroom by choice. (very very embarrassing for her)

like these tags said, "psychologist mulder taking two years to connect the dots scully laid out for him in never again."

god, this episode makes me so uncomfortable. it's also the only one of these three that i've never rewatched, so that's why i'm a little more lax in discussing it.

MULDER: No one can predict human behavior. No one can tell you what another person's going to do.

SCULLY: Well, isn't that what you do, Mulder, as a behavioral profiler? You … you imagine the killer's mind so well that you know what they're going to do next.

MULDER: If he imagines it, it's a priori-- before the fact. I think that's pretty clear from what he wrote about you.

laughs nervously...isn't that what you do!! don't you know people's minds and desires!!

when mulder tells scully that padgett's book ends with her having sex with the narrator, and asks, "i'm assuming that's a priori too?" it's so reminiscent of office desks and tattoo ink.

when she replies, "i think you know me better than that," they're both thinking of philadelphia, of something etched in her back that they've never put to words. that too, ended in fire, with desire punished.

(i'm always slack jawed at him asking her flat-out if she fucked the stalker. quintessential season 6, baby! eat your heart out!)

PHILLIP PADGETT: I made a mistake myself.

MULDER: What's that, Mr. Padgett?

PHILLIP PADGETT: In my book, I'd written that Agent Scully falls in love but that's obviously impossible. (looking at MULDER) Agent Scully is already in love.

agent scully is already in love, agent scully already desires so viscerally, (agent scully is making things personal, as mulder had rebutted in defense of diana, not long enough ago)

i know a lot of people love this line, but it just makes me want to weep for her. scully is such a discreet person, she values her privacy so much, and has so little of it left. it's the emotional equivalent of her physical exploitation, to have her most personal and intimate feelings exposed like this. 

loneliness is a choice, and that’s her’s to make, the way mulder’s choice was affirmed in small potatoes.

(padgett as a character is a stand-in, he represents the voyeurism of an audience, of projecting a persona onto someone for personal gratification. he isn't ascribed any motive. but this to me, feels like a power trip, even if unintentional. he's perhaps just being honest, but he's recognizing that he can't have her body, so he exposes her soul. he also doesn't know scully as well as he thinks he does.)

both never again and milagro are about a caricaturized self, embracing or rebuking who you are in someone else's eyes. whether scully is perceiving herself as mulder's loyal first mate who "always does as told" or padgett's lonely object of lust, she responds by leaning into that exposure, going where she's wanted, and continuing her ascribed "cycle" of devotion and rebellion.

the reveal in the end, is that this week's monster is not truly padgett, but a character that he's created, who is committing the murders described in his book.

like padgett himself, the killer is a personification of longing; it's him who declares that the only way for the book to conclude, is for scully to die.

but just as jerse did in never again, padgett throws himself in the fire to narrowly absolve scully of the fated ending, and sacrifices his heart for hers.

when mulder realizes what's happening and races back up into his apartment, the sight is bone-chilling. she actually looks dead, unconscious and covered in blood, from a wound that's now healing.

when she wakes up and sees him over her, she reaches for him as abruptly as she opens her eyes. she claws into him, her fingers never stop grabbing at him, pulling him closer and closer and sobbing into his neck.

so little of it actually matters. she almost died without him there. this is after tithonus, and she's remembering those lessons again. (what about love? you don't want to be around when it's gone.)

and just as in irresistible, mulder breaks too, feeling the weight with her.

/

anon, to compare the three, i would say they each represent the theme of their particular place in the narrative and scully's characterization.

irresistible is the fragile dependence of a post-abduction season 2: perceiving comfort as a weakness, fear as a burden, but needing it anyway. recognizing who you trust, what that means, and that wounds can't heal in detachment. from each other and from the brutalization of the world itself.

unruhe is the building isolation of season 4: going where someone can’t follow, whether in societal experience or the looming instability that’s close ahead.

and milagro is the painfully confrontational tension of season 6. having your heart ripped out of your chest, bleeding, in attempts to be understood. just clutching what you need, weeping, in the end: there’s no use fighting it. (or hiding it. loneliness is a choice, but there’s freedom in being stripped of options)

it is a growth, in a diminishment of pretense and self-consciousness. it just comes at a cost.

i also want to bring it back to @scullysflannel’s post on this topic, because she summarized another aspect of it that i didn’t touch on:

“Scully tells the therapist in Irresistible that she doesn’t want Mulder to think he has to protect her, and I feel like the end of Milagro is about Scully accepting his type of protection, and by extension his type of love. Padgett makes her want Mulder to pursue her in a way he’s never done, but Padgett also ultimately shows her the danger of being sought after like that, and it makes Mulder’s straightforward protectiveness look pretty good. it doesn’t matter right then if Mulder is giving her everything she wants. she needs him.”

milagro is about desire, and ultimately it’s about a relinquishing of desire. scully is drawn to padgett because he offers her something that mulder doesn’t (won’t?) give her, and she’s ripped to pieces because of it.

it is punishing, to want something so badly. ultimately, when she almost loses it all, she’s clinging to what she has.

(but mulder is learning too, and they’ll get there. they’ll get to all of it.)

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

It doesn't seem to get discussed very often, but what's it like to have comorbid ASD and NPD?

hard

No but seriously it's like playing Squid Games when you don't know the rules (and everyone else does). How do I suppose to get my social validation without understanding what people expect from me??

Also it makes treatment very hard because line between maladaptive NPD pattern and adaptive ASD strategy is very blurry. For example, one therapist told me that I need to stop thinking so much about how other see me. Because that's narcissistic and constant performing prevents me form forming genuine connections. Okay Gretchen, but have you ever experienced consequences of smooching your classmate on the lips in front of everyone because being 7 you were convinced that kissing is just expression of love and you loved your best friend? And you had no idea that people have different boundaries and it's socially unacceptable for girls to kiss girls, even platonically? Cause I did and that's why I know I can't just "stop thinking" what is acceptable, and what is not. Not only for my own benefit of being liked but also to not make others uncomfortable.

It's also a constant internal struggle to identify if something I do/feel is just me being autistic (normal, I can't help it) or me being narcissistic (bad, evil, should be treated). Or maybe it's all narcissistic, I just use autism as an excuse because narcissism is undesirable pathology so ofc as a narcissist I would like to distance myself from it? Seriously stigma around narcissism fucked me up. Additionally it severly influences the way NPD is treated by medical professionals. One German psychiatrist I know told me that his hospital avoids giving poeple NPD diagnosis because "it's like telling someone that they are certified shitty person". My friend I met during the group therapy was constantly criticized for forgetting about stuff and being "insensitive to others needs" and therapists blamed it on his narcissism, that "makes him so self absorbed he's incapable of paying attention to the outside world". It turned out the guy just has ADHD. It's seriously such a struggle to explain people that suppose to help you that you are not that bad, you are not careless, you seriously want to be a well adjusted person but there are some things you cannot easily change.

Also it fascinates me how little research exists about connection between NPD and neurodivesity (I have some theories why's that but I don't have enough evidence to make any serious claims). It's an anecdotal evidence but out of 11 people with diagnosed NPD I know, 7 of them have ASD or ADHD. And to me it makes so much sense because one of major factors influencing development of NPD is feeling of inadequacy. Yeah, constantly failing at social interactions and basic chores while everyone seems to be doing just fine and you have no idea what you could do better makes you feel pretty fuckin inadequate. Of course there are other things required to form PD but that's a great start.

[anna-hawk]

Lonely as You

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock Fandom: The Punisher/Daredevil Rating: E 🔞 Word count: ~2k

Summary: After one particularly hard mission, Frank realizes that Matt has a tough time dealing with his emotions.

Tags and warnings: angst – porn with feelings – emotional hurt comfort – canon typical violence (mentioned) – bathtub sex

This is yet again inspired by @nkeiiin, who struck again and hit me straight in the feels with this drawing.

Also read on AO3

“Hey, come on, Red,” Frank muttered softly, as he stooped low enough to get a hold of one of Matt’s elbows and help him up from where the man was sitting on hard concrete. “Let’s go… Nothin’ we can do anymore. The cops’ll be down here in a sec.” 

Matt didn’t move for a few seconds, his head still facing in the direction of the scene they’d brought an end to only a few minutes ago. Almost too late. Definitely too late to spare the kids they saved the future nightmares and hours of therapy. 

At least they got to go home, right?

Glancing at the small group of kids sitting huddled in a corner of the basement they were in, Frank tugged at Matt’s arm more urgently when he heard the sounds of police sirens just outside the large house. Thankfully, Matt finally moved and let Frank pull him through a door that led to a small tunnel and outside through a hidden trap in the backyard. They’d made sure to compile all the evidence they’d gotten on the trafficking ring on a USB stick, the hidden entrance included, and leave it for the police to find, along with the knocked out or dead criminals. 

Back outside, the two vigilantes quickly made their way towards Frank’s van that was parked in a secluded place a few yards away from the house and hidden from the police’s view. They took the direction of one of Frank's safe houses that they’d used during their planning for tonight, the small house only fifteen minutes away. The whole drive was done in utter silence, which wasn’t the real issue here, since that was more or less the norm between them. It was either bickering and bantering or being silent as they worked together. When they weren’t fucking it out afterward, for that matter. Frank didn’t mind any of the ways that he spent with Matt. As much as Frank was used to working alone, he was sometimes glad that he didn’t have to. Especially if it was Matt he was teaming up with. 

The current silence, however, felt deafening and left Frank with a bad feeling in his gut. He kept throwing Matt small glances and could practically feel each of Matt’s negative emotions coming off of him in waves, as if Frank were the one with the heightened senses. It was really because he knew Matt well enough to know what must be going through the man’s head. Probably stuff along the same lines as Frank's thoughts about what those kids had had to go through before they saved them. 

Parking in front of the house on the outskirts of NYC, Frank got out of the car after Matt had done the same and made his way to the entrance door. The smell of their lunch was still in the air, but it made Frank’s stomach roil with disgust this time; any hunger had fled him completely after tonight. Focusing his attention back on Matt, Frank followed the man into the tiny kitchen and watched him duck his head under the faucet to drink deeply. After he’d closed the water off, Matt stood there for a moment, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. 

“We should get cleaned up,” Frank tried, slightly unnerved by Matt’s unusual kind of silence. 

Frank had killed some of the men tonight, the situation and his rage getting the best of him. Was that the reason for Matt’s behavior? As much as they argued, the only true sticking point between them was the way they dealt with criminals. Matt refused to kill and continuously tried to stop Frank from doing so. Frank did try to hold back on the lethal blows, but on nights like today, it was impossible for him. 

Matt only nodded briefly and walked to the bathroom, Frank automatically following him. He didn’t really know why, but he felt like either of them being alone right now wasn’t a good idea. With his back to Frank, Matt turned on the faucet in the bathtub and plugged it closed as soon as the water turned hot. He slowly began removing his gear, starting with the helmet, and let each item fall to the tiles. Frank remained quiet and unmoving, thinking hard. He wanted to reach for Matt, but since he didn’t manage to get a read on the man, he refrained from it. He sighed when Matt was almost fully undressed, but still hadn't really acknowledged Frank's presence.

“Listen, Red… I know what you’re thinkin’… But those guys? They didn’t deserve to live. Honestly? They deserved far worse before I put a bullet in their heads, but-”

“You’re right,” Matt cut in softly, stopping Frank in his agitated explanation. 

Frank watched as Matt put a hand over his eyes and tilted his head back with a sound that almost sounded like a sob. His eyebrows creased while his gut clenched at the sight of utter misery in front of him. 

“I’m glad they’re gone, Frank,” Matt admitted, his voice raspy as he turned to face Frank at last, revealing every emotion to him. “That’s the only thing I could think of,” he laughed without humor. “I listened to their heart beats slowing down, and I wanted them to stop, I…” He turned his head away and shook it. 

“Wishin' for someone’s death and killin’ someone ain’t the same thing, Red,” Frank spoke gently as he took a step closer to Matt. “Everyone’s havin’ those kinda thoughts. Still don’t mean you wanna do it. Gonna do it.” 

Matt shook his head again and swallowed hard. “It’s not the first time I’ve wanted to… nearly did it, too.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Didn’t I? Tonight? I didn’t stop you, Frank… You know I could’ve. Sometimes I can’t, sometimes you’re too quick and… but not tonight. What happened in that basement? Sometimes I think I’ve seen it all and then… Fuck… I watched you do it, Frank, and-”

Frank cupped Matt’s jaw with both hands, and Matt’s hands came up to circle Frank’s wrists on reflex. 

“Stop.” He said it gently, but the tone was firm. “You ain’t me, Red. And I’d kill any last one of those motherfuckers we fight if it means you ain’t ever gonna fall to my level.” 

Matt gritted his teeth and leaned his forehead against Frank’s. 

“I don’t want you to do that. Not for me, either. Killing isn’t…” Matt went silent, much to Frank’s relief. Tonight wouldn’t be one of the nights they’d argue about God and who did or didn't deserve to die. Tonight, Matt was closer to Frank’s way of thinking, but Frank wasn’t happy about it in the slightest. Not if it almost broke Matt to admit it. 

The hands on Frank’s wrists vanished, only for them to appear at the hem of Frank’s body armor and go for the fastenings. Frank didn’t question it, and wasn’t surprised in the least by Matt leaning away briefly to tilt Frank’s face in the right position with one hand and kiss him. The exchange had nothing soft in it. It was demanding and desperate at the same time. A sharp breath left Frank as he kissed Matt back hard before taking a step away from the man's scorching touch to get out of his clothes. Matt wasn’t a silent observer, though. He went for Frank’s belt buckle, as Frank was pulling off his shirt, and made quick work of unzipping and lowering Frank's jeans. Frank nearly stumbled as he tried to undo his combat boots with his pants at mid-thigh, but he kicked them off and reached for Matt again as soon as he was fully naked as well. His hands went to Matt’s ass and pulled him closer as Matt’s tongue glided over his with a groan. Matt pulled away slightly and led Frank to the bathtub. After getting in, Matt turned off the faucet since the water had reached the desired level, and Frank joined him a second later. Thankfully, the bathtub was large enough for what Matt had in mind. He lowered himself into the water and laid back, silently beckoning Frank to slip between his parted legs before drawing him down for another needy kiss. The water sloshed against the sides as they moved into position, with Matt’s legs folding over Frank’s hips while Frank held himself up with one hand on the edge of the tub. Their hard lengths slid together in the hot water as their hips moved against each other, making both men groan into the kiss. 

“Fuck me, Frank,” Matt moaned against Frank’s mouth, before slipping his tongue back into it. 

Frank growled and kissed Matt deeply. “Ain’t got anythin’ in here to-”

“I don’t care. Just like that, Frank. Need this.” 

Frank huffed, while his own desperation for closeness shot through him. Lifting his head, he caught sight of the bottle of shampoo sitting in the corner of the tub and reached for it. Better than nothing. He was fine if Matt didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t want to actually hurt him. 

“Frank,” Matt breathed, tugging and pulling at Frank. 

“Water ain’t fuckin’ lube, Red. Just…” Frank managed to single-handedly get some of the shampoo onto his hand and lifted his hips until their lower parts were out of the water. He coated his dick and quickly slid a slick finger inside Matt, before pressing the head of his cock against Matt’s entrance. 

“Fuckin’… Christ,” Frank grunted, while he pushed against the tight ring of muscle and was granted slow access. 

Matt hissed, but his mouth fell open on a whine of utter pleasure once the first inches of Frank’s cock breached him. It was slow work, but Frank was soon lowering them back into the water and began to move. One of Matt’s arms wrapped under Frank’s while the other one went over Frank’s shoulder, both hands gripping at Frank’s back, the fingers digging into the muscles. Frank pressed his face against the side of Matt’s neck as he fucked him with long and deep thrusts. The hand that had gone for the shampoo was now under Matt’s leg to open him wider for Frank. Matt’s moans and cries of pleasure reverberated all around the tiled room, while more and more water slapped against the sides of the tub and ultimately over them, drenching the floor around it. Neither of the men paid it any mind, their focus solely on each other and the need to feel the other, forget everything else around them. 

Matt suddenly came with a choked out sound without either of them ever touching his cock, his arms wrapping tighter around Frank’s back as he jerked under the larger man. As if Matt’s orgasm finally allowed Frank to let go as well, Frank lifted his head to capture Matt’s lips as he pushed into the other man a few more times before he was following Matt over the edge. He could feel his release coating the inside of Matt’s hole, and groaned at the way Matt contracted around him with aftershocks. 

After a minute of silence, this one more comfortable than the previous one, Frank gently pulled out. As Matt groaned, Frank felt glad that they were already inside a bath, so they could shower off quickly, his body feeling heavy after everything that had happened that evening. Matt shifted under Frank and pulled the bathtub’s plug to let the dirty water run down the drain. Frank stood and pulled Matt to his feet, before he reached for the shower part of the bathtub. They rapidly cleaned up and dressed in the same silence.

After reaching the bedroom, Frank looked back to a hesitant Matt. Generally, they didn’t spend the night together, not in bed anyway, but Frank didn’t think twice about catching Matt’s forearm and drawing him inside the room behind him. Matt uttered a small sigh of relief and went quietly. He settled inside the bed and Frank wrapped his arms around him from behind, his forehead to Matt's nape. 

Frank knew that nothing had changed, Matt would keep warring inside his mind with his far from catholic thoughts, but at least he wasn’t alone. 

Not anymore.

[red-umbrella-811]

Okay, so I wrote this on reddit to a depression doomer, but I want someone who might have an iota of openness to considering it to read it, so I'm posting it here. I assume there will be doomers here too, because depression is depressing. All of these things are things that I've tried, and all of them are things that have made my life better than it was before. All of them I have started in an incredibly janky way and they've still helped. If anyone is interested (or I receive the same combination of depression-based hostility and intense focus), I'll make separate posts on how to actually do the thing.

Things that might make a person's depression improve that don't involved going to a therapist:

Aerobic exercise 4x/week

Membership in a community/close relationships/human touch/human interaction. I'm bundling these together, because in a practical sense, you're making about the same decisions yourself, and the interactions with other people will follow. I recommend finding a "Third Place," such as a sports league or dance community (see exercise), game/knitting/metaphysical store, bar, cafe, meetup group, adult learning class, regular volunteering gig, music venue, RPG group, book club, brunch group...you get the idea. The best ones are open to the public if you're socially isolated or looking to date, because you'll meet a greater variety of people, but anywhere where the same amorphous or literal group of people shows up at a place and time will help you build relationships.

Omega 3 Fatty acids, Vitamin D, Vitamin B-complex, Magnesium: I'm not a doctor and this is not medical advice. They might give you energy and run your body more smoothly.

St. John's Wort: I'm giving this its own thing because the above are supplements that the body gets in its diet, this is a drug™, but you can purchase it over the counter. It inhibits the reuptake of serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine, for which there is some evidence that it helps depression on a chemical level. It has mad drug interactions and PLEASE do your research before taking it.

A lot of things in the cognitive behavioral therapy realm. Gratitude practices, affirmations, I'm sure there are CBT workbooks for depression that one could find. The idea is to reframe your thoughts to make sure they are a) true and b) priming you to feel emotions and take actions that will make your life suck less.

Going outside. Living in a suboptimal space is depressing, and so many of us do it. We do better when we see and hear trees. We do better when we see and feel the sun. We process things when our brains run electricity back and forth between the two sides, as happens when walking (drumming is also good for this, or bilateral stimulation from something else).

Accomplish things. I know. This, even more than the many difficult things I've listed, probably feels impossible, but I'm writing it anyway, because it really does help. If you have small tasks you've been putting off, try and get one done. Break up big tasks into accomplishable steps. Not like "Clean the house" to "Clean the bathroom," like "Clean the house" to "throw all the trash on the couch in the trash can" or "get out all the products to clean the bathroom" (the second kind doesn't vibe with me but some people like it)

You'll notice none of this is going to fix the world, except for the shitty little corner the person doing it is sitting in. That's the point. There is so much wrong with the world, and it asks a lot of us to fix it: our labor, yes, and also our joy. And also, our ability to get out of bed in the morning, our ability to send emails, our ability to check in on each other, our ability to keep ourselves out of entanglements with the state and other institutions. I'm not saying this because it's fair, I'm saying it because it's the way out I see in front of us.

[kookygobbledygook]

Okay, I am about to piss off both sides of the debate.

I believe Cassandra shouldn't be articulate.

On one hand, yes, Cassandra Cain is infantalised by the fandom and that is in part due to her start in comics with being non-verbal and neuroatypical due to David Cain's training. It is rooted in ablism, racism and misogyny.

HOWEVER, as not only a person who has worked for over a decade in group homes for disabled people, but as a neuroatypical woman who grew up with multiple speech impediment, a stutter, and who had to do so much speech therapy as a kid that it ironed out my Australian accent, I hate that the discourse seems to be divided down the line of non-verbal, illiterate Cass is infantilising and verbal, literate Cass is empowered.

When you work in disability you soon learn there is a wide canyon between having an intellectual disability and being stupid. I have worked with dozens of people with intellectual disabilities over the years. None of them had been stupid. The most significantly disabled person I worked with never learnt to talk, needed help feeding himself, with personal care and almost all aspects of his daily life. He was also stubborn, cheeky, funny, impatient, enthusiastic about life, and had the best bullshit meter on the planet. He knew if you were there to help him or if you weren't worthy of his trust and that trust was hard earned. He was a fully fleshed-out, complete, adult man, with likes and interest and opinions which he couldexpressvery clearly. He passed away a few years ago and I miss him daily.

And he wasn't stupid. You see what I'm getting at?

So to loop back around to Cass, it annoys me that some people seem to think that Cass needs to be as articulate as an average person or write and read at the same level as her peers, to have her character progress. Why can't she improve and these areas still be a struggle for her? Why can't she be a bit underdeveloped in these areas not matter how hard she tries? To me it's like how there are people who learn as second language and are easily fluent, while there are other who will always struggle with articles, or tenses or the order of words or the use of plurals. That's not a sign of intelligence, why should it be that way in Cass' case?

I know people have shown examples of Cass speaking in lengthy sentences in the comics as evidence that Cass is articulate now and... yeah? But I kind of hate it? To me it's like the writers have given up on trying to depict what someone who struggles with language sounds like and have just ignored it, and treated Cass' dialogue like anyone else's. It makes her a flatter character imo.

One of the reasons I was drawn to Cass as a character was because she was so unlike me in many respects but in others so similar. The difficulty in articulating myself was a big one. And I hate that's been slowly wittled away by the writers at DC and now the fandom.

I still have a stutter. It's not a typical st-st-stutter. My brain blocks of the word before I even start to say it. But most people don't notice because on a completely subconscious level I search out synonyms. It's weird because if you got me to read out of a book, I would end up saying different words to what are written down, but they would still mean the same thing. And I don't even notice I'm doing it! Brains are weird. They compensate.

BUT I still have a stutter. Just because I work around it, and just because it's invisible in most situations doesn't mean it's not there.

We rail against other media when they find a magic cure to someone's disability. Hell I remember the outcry when DC decided to get Bab's out of the wheelchair. But because Cass' disability is invisible and more complicated to convey, we seem fine with it being watered down and framing that as character progression.

I want to see a Cass who is disabled and also an adult:

A Cass in speaks as much as she can in short clipped monosyllabic sentences because it's easier for her

A Cass who uses gestures and face expressions more often if she can

A Cass who struggles to find the right term sometimes and comes up with something left-of-field like people who have english as a second language calling a slug a "snail with no home" or calling raisins "elderly grapes"

A Cass who takes photos of crime scenes instead of writing down clues

A Cass who listens to audiobooks because physically reading is so much effort it takes the joy out of the story

A Cass who uses voice-to-text on her phone, but if she does resort to physically texting, she uses emojis

A Cass who struggles to hold down a typical job, and knows she's not built for university despite her intelligence because the type of intelligence she has is not valued or accommodated for

A Cass that leans more into the vigilante side of her life because this is the area that she is undisputedly a genius and where she doesn't feel as vulnerable

A Cass and a Babs who love each other but get into conflict because Babs does value the more typical hallmarks of intelligence as a computer genius librarian

A Cass who struggles with bills and banking and paperwork because it's deliberately set up to be labyrinthine to people who don't struggle with reading and writing. What chance does she have?

A Cass who not only has to deal with ablism but the intersection of ablism and racism as well as ablism and misogyny

A Cass who needs help with this stuff but is too afraid to ask for it because she's worried she'd be judged or looked down on or patronised

A Cass who IS judged or looked down on or patronised - even by people close to her, because even people we love have internalised ablism

A Cass who, in spite of being quiet is not stoic or shy, but acts the way she actually is. Funny, sharp, cheeky, cheerful, feral and kind. It's just her words are carefully selected precision strikes that can take down the other Bats in a single word.

That's the Cassandra Cain I want to see. And unfortunately I don't think I will, even in regular DC comics or in fandom spaces.

Because the idea that someone can struggle with developmental disability and also be smart is too much for people to wrap their heads around