#having a space I can go and be alone will be very good

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MDNI 18+

Thinking about having a good ol dick measuring contest with your very much straight friend, having him claim “it’s not a big deal every guy does it “ while having his ears burn, and fingers shake as he whips out his dick for you, hearing him uttering a choked fuck as your dicks stand side by side, and you can’t help but mindlessly comment on how much smaller he is while you’re shamelessly gauging his dick, not even noticing how weak he gets at the knees with each word that escapes your lips, even more so when you daringly cup his small cock, even going as far as to teasingly flick his tip

“what do you plan on doing with that eh?” You say with a small laugh, sounding as if you couldn’t ever imagine him using his dick. “Bet the girls don’t even cum when you fuck them,”

Instead of feeling hurt he can’t help but be turned on by your words and for a brief moment he thinks he’s gone insane because what straight man gets turned on by another man scrutinizing his dick “don’t - ah don’t say that, man, you don’t know shit ”

Between the exchange of words your hand finds its way to his balls and gently fondles them “no I’m being serious, can’t imagine a girl finishing like this, are you even hard hm?” you say sounding oblivious as ever as if he’s not standing there with his eyes squeezed shut, weeping at the tip, cock throbbing and ready to burst from just a little caressing.

Before he can utter a response you slap your dick over his, causing the other man to jerk in place as a loud gasps escapes his lips. “Hah fuck!”

“Christ look at this, can’t even see it no more,” You say, through a breathy laugh, gaze locked on the space between your bodies.

Upon looking down he’s met with the sight of your cock completely engulfing his, can feel the warmth of your skin seeping into him, even feels you weighting him down and if he wasn’t about to pass about from that alone he sure will when you start stroking your dicks”Hey, hey - what ah - what are you doing?”

“Come on it’s not a big deal, all guys do it,” you drawl out as you set a steady pace with your hand “I’ll even make you cum I promise,besides I don’t think it’ll be much of a challenge”

[osakanone]

Speaking as someone with a traumatic brain injury, I'm not sure that PSAs alone will never be enough. I do have an idea, and I am curious about your thoughts.

If you want effective change you have to reach out to the people either do not remember PSAs or more likely, don't read PSAs, who think they are good people but are actually terrible in ways they cannot accept and thus cannot grow from -- who chase respectability as social clout instead of making babysteps needed to get things done.

So here it is:

Your alternatives don't work for sociolinguistic reasons

Your chosen word of interest is an adjective form of a verb.

R-word can be used easily, interchangably and with little effort when someone is stressed because every form of it is grammatically correct and socially incorrect, which is what is usually craved in an insult.

Language is an ecology: A space of predator words and prey words based on which words replace each in their fashionableness.

As with any ecology, there are niches: pockets of success where a need exists and a word slips into the gap to fill it.

In Europe we didn't get your word of interest until the mid 2000's, and it was occupied by a form of the word spastic (the medical condition) shortened to the slur "spaz" (which I've been on the recieving end of many times).

Consequences create martyrs and those seeking to differentiate themselves will adopt waning or discouraged language to differentiate themselves (PSA culture got us edgelord culture).

When a word goes out of popularity is when another word which is significantly cleverer takes its place, which is more biting and more cutting.

A great example is how "the slur beginning in F ending in T" in many progressive circles is front-loaded with the expectation of one word, and then instead people say "fascist" and everybody smiles.

It is one of the ways of controlling language:

You take the second-association added to an instrinsic thing eg, the "other" meaning of gay used on xbox live) and you attach it to something else

You outsource sentiment to a different target.

You retire one word, and inject another which better aligns with your sentiment and intentionality.

You MUST do this in a way which punches up instead of down, or you risk watering down the perception of a word -- and you must likewise be able to answer the question "how is that <other word>?" on the spot with a single sentence and shut down a conversation.

Back to this context, I genuinely use

"mentally redacted",

This replaced my previous go-to

"mentally retired",

which I felt licked of ageism and made me uncomfortable.

Meaning, that something was censored or removed or deleted intentionally. I make this about thoughtless intentionality of action, not intrinsic nature of a person or their situation or whatever has happened to them.

It shifts from medicalism to mentality.

The imperfectionism of it is the scar-tissue of culture as words fall out of favour.

Maybe that's not good enough for Americans? I don't know!

Does it just read of hiding the word and playing slight of hand instead? Does it have some third other reason? There's no good answer here, I feel.

But it makes me personally feel one hell of a lot better about my slowness instead of slipping up when talking about myself and throwing a slur at the person I'm talking to.

I'd genuinely like to know your thoughts!

e:

There's a great bit in the notes by op about how swearing disrupts civility; disruption is the only way to make any protest get noticed. I will say, a slur is often just a culturally acceptable swearword, which again is miserable. I hate to say it but we do need to get meaner if we're gonna survive. We do need to invent our own words about the people who oppress us that are robust descriptors with ride recognition.

e2:

I came very close to using dysthymic as an insult to describe "I need more" greedy "more lanes bro" VC/corpo-brain types before realizing good people would be caught in the cross-fire despite the fact dysthymia is one of the major medical roots of their behavior and damn that is a hard one for me to figure out. The great thing about medicine is it gives us lots of great complex descriptors that are easy to look up. The downside is when we use medicalization as a callout or attack there is always friendly fire. An oppressor will never care about friendly fire, which means we are always stuck playing defense and its fucking bullshit and makes me so mad.

e3:

I really wish there was a way to make words which disrupted civility without... disrupting... civility... okay that's a paradox. Fine, then are there words which can disrupt anti-civility? I want those.

e4:

Found one. The crushing response. "human pet guy"

Since the r-slur is making a comeback (you know, the word that starts with R, has six letters, and ends in D), I'm gonna make a little PSA:

Yes, it's an ableist slur.

Terms like "asshat," "head-up-ass," "up their own ass," and "high on their own farts" exist. There's also words like crap, dogshit, half-assed, assclown, and chucklefuck. And on the less vulgar side, there are terms like ridiculous, nonsense, train wreck, pointless, insipid, self-absorbed, pretentious, annoying, boring, contemptible, vile, and disgusting.

Substituting words like restarted, poptarted, brain damaged, smoothbrain, etc. is still ableist, because either 1. you obviously still mean the r-word, or 2. you're still using disability as an insult.

[anxiouspotionofgloom]

Grian calls him back to the mountains. Not calling, really, just two little words covering the distance between them, but Scar can hear his voice all the same.

"I gotta come back." He says, distracted, words slipping out from his teeth like they hadn't quite realized their existence yet - the almost tangible bond in between them tugging him up the stairs with a speed his thoughts can't match.

His fingers still shake from the adrenaline, frozen in the phantom sensation of pulling back the string of his bow. There's a giggle stuck in the back of his throat.

A cheap move he'd called it - frustrated around the edges, self-deprecation staining the corner of his lips - but now all he can think about is the arc of Grian's fall, a parabola no mathematical formula will ever understand.

He gets there alone, sun high in the way it means it's burning, and Grian is waiting for him with two bright red blocks of TNT by his side.

"You deserve this." His hair sticks out in all directions, kinetic energy from the fall that had nowhere else to go, and Scar almost thinks himself back to the start of the session when time slowed down to the millisecond of destruction - a spark, a flame, that familiar hiss that always made your heart skip a beat in instinctive fear.

The wooden boards are shattered in an instant.

His "NO!" is loud, but the feelings behind it are half-assed, an emotional reciprocity to Grian's frazzled look he just simply can't bring himself to match. The truth is that he's pissed a little bit, but that damn giggle is still stuck to the wall of his trachea, threatening to escape with every little breath.

Grian shifts on his feet a little, idly nudging a pebble to fall into the newly formed hole with an echoing click. "That's how little that reputation board meant, I was in good favour Scar!"

It takes him a second to blink. "Wait, no you weren't! You were on 0 with a sad face!" It's easy to act outraged, and easier still to step closer to Grian - the darkness of the night closing in on them, clinging to the sharp angle of Grian's nose and twisting his face into a frown. "Okay well-"

Scar cuts him short, pressing, eager for a way to get back under his skin in a way that makes him whole. "Maybe we're even now!"The answer is instantaneous. "No. That's not how this works!" His words are laced with the hint of a laugh there, and Scar knows he's already almost won him over.

Grian takes a step closer - toying the line of reaching for Scar's coat, his narrowed eyes piercing him all the way to his heart. "You know I wouldn't be able to kill you anyways," He parrots, the white of his teeth gleaming in the light. "Where did that go, huh?"

The sheepish smile is impossible to swallow back. "Well you see it was- it was a lapse of judgment! Can you really blame a man for being a bit depressed none of his traps worked?"

Grian rolls his eyes. "You got two kills this session Scar, I don't think you're very deserving of my pity there. Skizz got none!"

"He could have if he'd pressed that lever faster than Jimmy."

An incredulous look is thrown his way. "And kill me and Mumbo? I don't know what kind of teammates you've got, but that's not how we do this." His face is scrunched up in annoyance, lips flattened in that particular way that always made Scar want to kiss them until they opened in the shape of his name.

But red had cradled his cheeks just not that long ago, and it seemed his neurons hadn't had time to settle back into being green, because self-restraint doesn't bind his limbs back under control when he succumbs to the impulsion of kissing Grian.

His first impression is that he tastes like smoke, with a heavy touch of explosion - the detonator to a bomb Scar can feel buried in his heart.

There's a surprised little noise in the microscopic space between their lips, before Grian kisses him back hard enough to bruise.

"You respawned in my bed again." Scar pants in between kisses, like it will explain anything. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, but he's too busy burying his nails into Grian's waist to care much for it.

And then, because they don't have time, because it's day again and Scar's bow is still hanging up on his back, they pull away with one last touch that almost feels regretful.

Scar steps back, rolling on his heels a little before turning to where Grian's teammates are with a smile. "I'm glad we're even now, thank god!"

The speed at which Grian's face becomes infuriated again is so comical that Scar nearly trips on his descent. "That's not how it works!" It sounds like he's gritting his teeth, red bitten lips pursed yet again, but the angry tone is betrayed by the fondness hiding underneath.

The words fade away as Scar tumbles his way down to Mumbo and Skizz but Grian's laugh stays, a sharp and hypnotic sound dancing in the air.

-

(this session made me a little bit insane about them, so take this <3 Shoutout to my friend Sparrow who convinced me to post this on here <3 skkdjdskjks the potion do be anxious sometime 😔)

[yappielestappie]

Some lestappen thoughts in these trying times:

I think Max and Charles have a bond unlike anyone else in F1, even though they’re not that close of friends. I’d even go so far as to say they’re trauma bonded.

We all know Jos was downright horrible. It’s quite reasonable to assume that this was very hard on Max as a child, and that he felt alienated and alone (recall the quote of him saying it would’ve been nice to be able to play football with kids his age, sometimes). The only times he got to hang around with kids his age was on the race track. And who was always there? Always at the top? Always challenging him? Charles Leclerc.

Charles, meanwhile, had the opposite. He had a entire support system built around his racing career. He had both brothers and his godfather with him, and a fathers love to guide him through. In his teens, he lost both Jules and his father, and suddenly, the only consistent familiar part of racing that remainder from his childhood, would have been Max.

Meanwhile, while Charles was suffering this loss, Max was in Formula 1, in a top team, doing quite well, and had picked up a support system (albeit a likely limited one) in Daniel Riccardo. I think Charles was extremely jealous of Max when he also got to F1 in 2018. Their whole lives, they’d been opponents, and then Max beat him to F1 by 3 years & had everything Charles did not (a good seat, a father, an older F1 driver to guide him). I also think that’s why the Austria 2019 podium ended up being such a big conflict. It was a lot more than just a win to Charles. It was proving himself.

Now, they’ve both matured (Daniel helped Max and Seb helped Charles). They can look back on their karting days fondly, and they both recognize that the only real supportive part of their karting careers that still remains, is each other. All the hatred they had for one another has turned into support, and a kind of respect that very few drivers have for one another.

They have something special. It’s undeniable. There’s no other drivers on the grid that have history anything like them (Pierresteban could be discussed but that’s a whole mess). And now I think they’re old enough to realize they have something special.

Max genuinely cares about Charles. It’s obvious. Their racing is so much different to anyone else Max goes wheel to wheel with. Leclerc is the only driver I’ve ever seen him apologize to. The whole “Charlie I’ve got a space for you!” Thing is still blowing my mind. Max talks about Charles like he’s the only one Max actually wants to race, like Charles is the only person worthy of challenging him. He rates Charles over everyone else even when he fucks up “come on Charles man, too many mistakes” comes to mind.

And Charles is the same way right back, he just usually has a bit more shame. It’s worth noting that he speaks highly about a lot of other drivers, but Max always seems special. He compliments max out the wazoo sometimes. It’s clear that he sees Max as the very best - as the benchmark to beat. But more than that, he defends Max just like we do. Charles always supports Max’s moves on Lando, even when they’re clearly in the wrong. He supports Max’s aggressive racing, claims to LIKE it even, when Max is being constantly harassed by the fans and media.

There’s something between them. Some unspoken reason why they support each other like this and the only conclusion I can come to is that the memories they have of each other are inseparable from their memories of racing. They’ve been competing at the top since they were 6 years old. They know how to be rivals better than they know how to do anything else in the world.

I don’t know if they ever hang out outside of F1. I don’t know if we’ll ever see them interact again once Max retires. But I do know that they’ve shaped each other in a way that will impact them until the day they die. Every untainted memory from their childhoods is about each other. All the memories of loss and abuse are separate to their memories of each other. They are the only thing that remains.

The most fundamental part of racing for Max, is beating Charles. And the most fundamental part of racing for Charles, is beating Max. Everyone else on the grid is irrelevant- an obstacle. They are two halves of the same story and I think that’s more beautiful than any romance book I’ve ever read.

oh anon you are so absolutely right. listen for me, it's the fact that we can talk all day about lestappen and ship them or let our imaginations and minds go wild with w/e but fundamentally? at the end of the day? there is also substance to it - even any form of fandom aside, there are simply facts about them that make them such a beautiful dynamic. there is something so mesmerizing about the level on which they drive, perform, their talents and skills and the way they grew up with and around each other in a sense. the beautiful juxtapositions, the red strings of fate, the way their paths kept crossing and intertwining even before they raced each other again (suzuka being max' first proper f1 test drives and then jules etc.)... there is just something cosmic about them that (as stated in some previous post) almost boils down to THEM BOTH BEING LIBRAS which is still driving me insane. the balance. the way this just screams UNIVERSE just as partners in life, as twin flames, as two sides of the same coin, two weights on a scale... again, not even saying this is related to the fandom angle of romance. like you said it almost runs deeper than that. and i, personally, refuse to be normal about it the same way the two of them are never truly normal about each other.

[challenger-fan-club]

Patrick edging Art with edibles. Send tweet.

“Cmon, it’s just a brownie.” Patrick waves it in Arts face. “I know, I’ve never done it before and I don’t want to mess with my game.” Patrick rolls his eyes at him. “Stop being a baby, I spent all day baking, like im your wife. I promise it’ll be fine.” Patrick takes a bite to show Art it’s okay. “It’s weed, it’s not like you’re gonna try to fly or anything plus I’ll be here to look after you.” This was spring break and Art knew he was getting into Stanford. He didn’t want to go to college without having a bit of experience but it still made him nervous. Art is the guy to pay attention to all of the lessons about the effect of drugs and how weed can be a gateway drug. Art holds the plate that Patrick hands him and looks at him for reassurance. He did want to do it but conflict raged inside of him. “Art, I promise it’s good, it just spaces you out a bit. Gets you out of your pretty little head.” Art almost blushed at the thought that Patrick thinks he’s pretty. “Just have one, it might not even do anything.” Art picks up the brownie, it did just look like a treat. Patrick sat beside Art on his bed. “Trust me.”

Art takes a few bites of the brownie. It’s dry in his mouth as he chews as he finishes the smaller piece. Patrick smiles and budges him with his shoulder. “Good job.” Patrick leans back on Arts bed and puts the tv on and flicks to find something to watch. He uses Arts pillows to make himself comfortable and encourages Art to lean back. About thirty minutes go past and Patrick starts to feel the effects, laughing a bit harder at things which might not be funny. It’s taking time to effect Art. “I’m not feeling anything.” Patrick is leaning against the walls. “Have another bite, you took the edge so it might not have gotten to that bit.” Art doesn’t know any better and eats the brownie. He downs some pop that’s in the room to counteract his dry mouth. Another 15 minutes pass and Art is feeling more spaced out. The boys haven’t spoken, staring at the tv.

“You good?” Patrick smiles seeing Art slightly glazed over. Art nods, he’s made himself comfortable on the bed and leans his head on Patrick. “Sure you’re okay?” Art feels the warmth of his body and starts to feel relaxed. “I feel really happy.” Art mumbles and Patrick wraps his arm around Art pulling him closer. They’re close to lying together in the bed. Art starts to nuzzle into Patrick’s shoulder, rubbing his cheeks against his body. “Feels good.” Art smiles before looking up to Patrick. There’s a moment where the boys stare at each other. Patrick leans in slightly and keeps his mouth away from Art, just inches as they stare at each other. Art shuts his eyes and pulled Patrick closer. It’s not usual for Art to make the first move, with anyone let alone Patrick. Patrick takes the hint and starts kissing him. His mouth is also dry but the kiss is light to start. Art lets out a small moan and Patrick runs his hands through his hard and takes control, kissing him harder, using his tongue to meet in Arts mouth.

Patrick quickly sheds Arts clothes and makes him comfortable in the bed, repeatedly checking in that Arts okay. Arts eyes feel heavy but he doesn’t want Patrick to stop as he kisses his body. Patrick is very aware of Arts erection (as well as his own) and is taking every opportunity to push his body against Arts. “Are you sure?” Patrick kisses his chest, soft, so unlike his own. He wonders if Art shaves everywhere but Art puts his hand on the back of his neck. “Please. I need it really bad.” Patrick feels like he’s living in a dream as he reaches down to feel outside Arts boxers. Patrick sees he’s already made a wet patch, being so reactive to Patrick’s kiss and touch.

Patrick pulls his boxers off and Art wriggles out of his lying on the bed. His body feels heavy as Patrick starts to rub Arts tip. Arts already squirming just at the touch before Patrick spits, letting it run down Arts hard cock. “Ughhhh, mm.” Art is almost humping the air, waiting for Patrick to resume touching him. “Can I? I mean, can we?” Patrick’s fingers run along his balls and then down further down to his ass. Art nods enthusiastically, fighting to keep his gaze on Patrick. Patrick pulls a condom from the bedside table and places it beside him on the bed. He grabs lube before placing some on his fingers, teasing Arts skin. He places his mouth over his cock, sucking softly, running his tongue over him. He places his fingers at his entrance before slowly pushing them in. Art gasps, propelling his body up slightly, making Patrick take his cock deeper in his throat. Patrick gags slightly unexpectedly as he pulls back, telling him to relax as his fingers push deeper inside him. “Mmm feels good, faster.” Art begs as Patrick keeps the same rhythm. “I’ll make you feel so good, trust me.” He smiles as he withdraws his fingers. He rips open the package with his teeth before rolling the condom over his own erection. Art moans at the lack of attention for the brief time Patrick is away from him. Patrick lines himself up and rubs the outside of Arts ass. “Please, please god I want it so badly.” Art moans as Patrick watches him below him. He starts slowly, teasing himself inside of Art, allowing him to adjust. Art is already close and Patrick wants to keep him there as long as possible.

Patrick get into a rhythm, taking his thrusts slowly as Art moans. “Shit I’m close already.” Art bites his lip watching Patrick thrusts his hips into him. “I know baby. Just hold it, you’re being so good.” Patrick looks over to the plate of brownies. “You should have another one.” Patrick slightly worried that if he stops being high, he might want to stop. Art doesn’t want to stop. Art wants to live in this moment forever. He grabs one from the plate and puts it at Arts mouth. He starts to chew as Patrick keeps going. “Good boy. You’re so fucking good.” Patrick can’t stop complimenting him. He’s fucked up and looks so fucking pretty around his cock. He keeps glancing down at Arts hard cock, Art doing everything he can to get something to let him cum. Patrick wants to eek it out as long as possible.

Art moans like a girl, it’s high pitched and Patrick loves being the one to make him moan. “Faster please I want to cum.” Patrick stays at the same pace, hitting his sweet spot to make him moan. Arts moans get louder and Patrick keeps himself on the edge. He allows himself to move faster, not letting Art get too comfortable. “Aaaa, fuck that’s it Pat, fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. You’re making me cum.” Patrick slows again, hearing Art groan as it slows down. Art is on the verge of tears but Patrick is obsessed with the control he has over him. Patrick doesn’t stop his movements, he just takes it very slow. Patrick starts kissing him again, thrusting slow and slowly rubbing his tip. “Another bite baby.” Patrick whispers in Arts ear. Art already feels so good, he wants to do anything Patrick wants. “One more bite and I’ll let you cum.” Art is so hard and needs to cum so bad it’s starting to hurt so he takes another bite. He chews slowly and Patrick watches his jaw as he takes him slower, almost agony for both of them. “Swallow.” Patrick commands and the submissive in Art makes him want to please. Patrick kisses his neck as Art is blissed out when he swallows. “You’re so fucking hot like this, so fucking good, so fucking pretty taking my cock.” Patrick bites his neck and Art moans, his mouth is so dry from being open and moaning. “Please please I need to cum. Please.” Art begs. “Pat make me cum, I’m so close, I’ve been so good, I’ll do anything. I need it. Daddy pleaseeee.” Patrick groans so hard at Art calling him daddy. It wasn’t expected and Patrick fights to not let go right there.

“Is that what you want baby? Daddy to take care of you?” Patrick holds himself in front of Arts face, making him look at him in the eyes. “Yes please please.” Art doesn’t want to disappoint and needs to be told when he can cum. He’s so high and so needy. Patrick moves faster and holds Art down. He places his hands above his head as he starts to fuck him quicker. Arts fighting tears to hold himself back as he hears Patrick smacking himself inside of him. “Hold it, be good, you’re so fucking… good.” Patrick finds himself almost as close as Art but he doesn’t want it to end. “One more bite baby.” He reaches over and places it in Arts mouth. Art would do anything for release and he quickly swallows. “How do you feel?” Patrick checks in. “So good, so fucking good but daddy I need to cum. I need to. Please, please, please, please.” He can’t stop repeating like it’s a mantra.

“Cum for me. Make a mess.” Patrick finally lets Art finish as he pounds into him. “Thank you thank you thank you” Art moans as he finally releases so much on his stomach as Patrick watches. The sight of a ruined Art under him making him fill the condom inside of Art. Patrick is now panting as his thrusts slow, his legs are like jelly. “You’re so fucking perfect.” Patrick holds Arts face and Art blushes. “I can see why women just fling themself at you.” Art giggles as Patrick pulls himself from him. Art already missing the feeling of being full. “It’s never been like that with anyone else I can promise you that.” Art notes that he’s not referring just to women. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Art tries to get his breath back under control as he pats the bed beside him. “I just need to nip to the bathroom.” Patrick smiles. “Hurry back, I need you.” Arts eyes finally get heavy to close and Patrick rushes to the bathroom and back. Art is almost asleep when Patrick comes back. He’s almost pained when he sees his eyes are shut. “Cmere.” Art mumbles, lifting his head to let Patrick get under him. Art starts to nuzzle into him and kisses his chest. “Thank you.” Art mumbles. “Best first experience.” Patrick wonders if he means the weed or something else. “Thank you for trusting me.” Art smiles as he starts to fall asleep. Patrick is wide awake watching Art sleep, already thinking of making his next batch of brownies.

[ace-of-bass]

Also: Building community is not just an outreach tool. It is a tool of keeping ourselves safe and keeping resources available to all. Offering things on social media like rides to abortion clinics, or diy hrt, or anything else that is perhaps not-totally-legal in all places, is not a great strategy. For one, you shouldn't trust strangers on the internet with information that sensitive, so those you are offering those services to would do well not to trust you. If you want to meaningfully contribute to providing things such as the above, or even more legal-but-logistically-complex things like feeding a large number of people, handing out narcan, etc, you need to organize in person. How do you organize in person? By meeting people in person, aka building community.

If this is your goal, you can start with people who are very similar to you! You don't have to start by reaching out to Alt Right David or even Annoying Uncle Bill - you can start by going to a local show or a group that meets at the library or hanging out with your D&D group when you're not actively playing D&D. Then, you have friends that you can rely on to take care of you, and who you might be able to plan some cool mutual aid shit with. I've been working on building community for awhile, at first not intentionally and lately very intentionally, and here's how I met the group of friends I started a monthly free store with:

1. Met Friend A at a choir thing since I like to sing and was looking for friends after moving somewhere new. Friend A ultimately left choir but we stayed friends, and at one point I told Friend A I'm ace.

2. Friend A said, "oh you'd love my friend B, who's also ace! She's doing a comedy show, let's go see her perform together and then you can meet her!"

3. Friend B and I become friends, and start a local peer support group for aspec people, based mostly on Friend B's existing communities and our sheer determination.

4. Fast forward a year and a half, Friend C comes to our aspec peer support group and I become friends with her.

5. Friend C and I are talking about activism, and Friend C says a lot of the things I'm interested in aligns with what Friend D has talked to her about. Friend C introduces me to Friend D.

6. Independently, I have been building a community space on my street, in the rough neighborhood of where Friend C, Friend D, and I live.

7. Friend D and I want to create a solarpunk future but decide to start small. Friend D ropes in several of his friends, one of whom I happen to know from the community space mentioned in 6.

8. This group of friends runs a free store once a month in the community space, open for all to donate to and all to attend. As we find out about others who are doing/want to do similar things, we try to join forces. In this way we've expanded from just a free store to a free store + clothing swap, and we're only on our third time hosting it.

All of these friends are lefty, and all of them are queer in some way or another. The free store friends are explicitly anarchist, like me. I think OP's point is useful for deradicalization and for growing the movement, but if you are alone and you are scared, encouragement to build community is just as much about finding your people in person as it is about forming coalitions with those different in you.

Another important note is that finding people like you should be a starting point, not an ending point. The goal of this is not to find friends, though that's a good start. The goal is to build dual power, which is done by working together with others and having open doors to join the movement. Once you've found some friends or communities, work to ensure that they are open to all, that you are reaching the people who most need the work you are doing, and that you are not simply making yourself feel good or just having a good time with your friends.

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[n0tamused]

Albedo Headcanons

A/n: Since I don't have much to post rn, I decided to go back to some of my old headcanons that I didn't publish and expand on them. These ones are all the way back from 2022 even, but I'm still happy with my portrayal of Albedo lol. Hope you all enjoy them too! I did work on these a little more, but I didn't take in consideration all the new events with Albedo after 2022. Keep that in mind.

Contents: General platonic and romantic headcanons, Albedo x GN!Reader, fluff, dash of angst if you squint really hard, self indulgent, possible grammar mistakes

General headcanons:

- Albedo is not a person who really indulges much, or at all, in friendships and relationships. He can understand the appeal, but he simply does not care as much as an average individual. He has his work to get to and his research to keep going, and the continuously taxing process of keeping relationships in general are tiring for him

- He prefers his solitude much more than any other company. He may not be in love with people much, but he is in love with the trees, the branches, the snow falling and the frozen lakes of Dragonspine - every new day means a new love for him, and he cannot wait to do his homework on anything and everything, even things he understands fully now. One thing you can equate this love of his to is the snow of Dragonspine itself, countless snowflakes hugging the lands, buried deep in crevices and cracks, trying to get to the center of the world.

- Since he has researched so much, even the smallest of new discoveries are very exciting for him, it’s those small joys that show his inner being through the smile that lights his eyes and makes the corners of them crinkle.

- Due to his drawn back nature, and his origins, he isn't so well met with emotions, so those are one of his many interests and curiosities.  He is well mannered, he knows how to maneuver a situation, but when he looks back at it, he can't help but feel distant and confused - why did they get so excited over such a small thing? Why did she blush so easily? Why did that boy get so scared by some wind? Why did he find himself observing the contours of someone’s face when he didn’t know them? Why did he wish to sketch them?..etc 

- He doesn't think he feels sorrow/regret like the others, he isn't like the others that much is certain. Sometimes when he is alone in some comfortable space he will just stare somewhere and wonder.... how would have he turned out if he just...felt more.. What does true happiness without limitations feel like? What is freedom? Does it come without regrets? In those moments he understands what sadness is. All these thoughts make him feel so heavy, his chest is heavy and tight and his heart feels lonely. At times he thinks what would happen if one of his close co workers were to suffer an injury or quit their work for greener pastures, the field of alchemy certainly wasn’t any easy one for everyone. He knows he’d miss their presence.

- There are many more complex questions that plague him late at nights, only to shrug them off like a coat in the morning in favor of his Alchemist coat 

- This all being said, getting close to him is more on the difficult side. Unless you are willing to pull a little more work than him and frequently check in, he simply wouldn't know how to act. He does his best where he sees he can, though. He isn’t emotionless, just a bit clueless.

 - He would gladly help you, and guide you in the field of Alchemy in case you are curious about it, although he would much rather point you in the direction of a "starter mentor" first, before he offers himself as a mentor. It's not that he's underestimating you, but he feels as if giving you a good, solid start with a teacher of an "average" Alchemist would be a much easier way into the field of alchemy. In a way, you could say he’s underestimating himself in handing you the knowledge he has in a way you’ll understand. 

- Klee is one person he feels most close to. Sucrose is a capable lady, smart and close to Albedo, but Klee is someone who simply touches Albedo's heart in more ways than one. He wishes to keep her close and protect her, she feels familiar to him and gives him more sense of grounding to this world even if the responsibility of taking care of her wasn’t something he initially took on by choice

- That being mentioned he definitely has great patience with her, and slowly, even if she is not really able to understand, she is teaching him to feel

Romantic:

- Everyone knows the great Alchemist is also a great artist - everyone who has gazed upon his works would say so with 100 percent certainty paired with a couple more flattering words. Yet Albedo would shrug those compliments off and politely counter their words; a simple thank you does it

- He does not really see much of sentiment in those pieces of artwork as much as he does in the art he did of you

- Those are his favorite pieces. He loves to capture every detail of you whenever he can - the way your nose scrunches, the way your brow quirks, the way you lay down after a long day, the way the wind blows through your hair, the way your hands are after having them soaked in water for too long or when they’re cold..

- He is still quite reluctant about initiating contact, especially the physical one due to his lack of proper experience on the topic. Most information he has was read from books or heard from his fellow Knights, but none worth mentioning or trying in practice in interactions with you

- So it takes much, much for him to warm up to the ideas, you will have to initiate things slowly, so he can warm up to those touches initiated by you as well but he does his own part in reciprocating and returning those small affections

- The best ways of bonding together is babysitting Klee honestly; drawing, searching nature for anything of interest..etc. So that being said his love languages are quality time, after that it would be acts of service and after that words of affirmation. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day/good night. May I request an Alucard x Reader where the reading keeps needing to touch him (holding his hand, hugging him, leaning against him or standing as close as possible by him) because the Reader is touch starved?

“Can I help you with something?” Alcuard asked [Y/N] as they sat beside him. To which they look up at him curiously.

They had been beside him all afternoon, as they traveled to the next village, but slowly encroaching on his space every few moments as they journeyed on. It came to the point a few times that he almost tripped over them they were so close. Now they were all but slid into his bunk on his side of the fire.

“Oh…the…wind was blowing the smoke in my eyes.”

“The wind is to the east.” Alucard told them. “What’s really going on? You aren’t scared, are you?”

“No!” [Y/N] insisted. Which he had to admit was a silly question. They were fiercer than anyone, in Alucard’s opinion. “I just….wanted to be close to you.”

The dhampir was surprised by their confession, but understood the sentiment. He had been alone for a very long time. He knew what loneliness was. To be so lonely that you needed to be physically close to someone to quell the ache.

Alucard opened his great coat and wrapped part of it around [Y/N]. “Next time just ask.” He told them. “You don’t have to be coy or subversive when you want to be near me. You’re not very good at it anyway.”

[Y/N] scrunched their brow, then tweaked at his side, but sad nothing. The two of them just spent the rest of the evening looking into the fire. Waiting for night to cast over and for their journey to continue to together.

[magpies-gold]

I have both eyes and they're both technically functional but I still relate to a lot of this because I also have monocular vision. In my case, the problem is with my brain, actually. It can only process images from one eye at a time because of a defect when I was born that required surgical intervention. Even after the fix, my brain just never learned that I still had two eyes, so it has no capacity to combine the image data like normal people do. As a result, I have no depth perception and I have a dominant eye that I use 90% of the time.

I also have visual snow that's especially noticeable when I close my eyes and at night in the dark, but as there isn't a lot of research on visual snow, I'm not sure if that's related or coincidental. In case people want to know a bit more about life as a person with monocular vision in a two-eyeballs kind of situation: I have a weird trick that I can do that seems to astound folks with binocular vision: I can consciously switch eyes. It's like flexing a muscle and I can decide to use the left one or the right in the same way that I can choose to wave my left or right hand. Trying to use both at the same time just doesn't work, though. If I really try, there's just this pressure feeling in my head, like I'm trying to imagine a colour that doesn't exist, but I can't make the two work together at all. This is likely just a me thing but my non-dominant eye is much worse than my dominant eye, and its been getting worse over the course of my life. It's still useful, but extremely near-sighted, so much so that it alone is legally blind and makes my optometrist and all their staff wince. But I can read very, very tiny close-up writing with it, so it comes in handy when I'm doing things like reading. My dominant eye is a little near sighted but not much. It's pretty stable. Also probably just a me thing: I have one lazy eye, but it relates to the monocular vision. It's my dominant one. If I use the non-dominant eye, you can actually tell when I've switched to it because my dominant eye "switches off" and rolls a little bit up and out. It was worse when I was a kid (my mom saying "Meghan, are you looking at me?" was a common thing) but it still happens nowadays. My non-dominant eye isn't lazy, so when I'm looking around normally with my dominant eye you can't tell that there's anything different about me than your average Joe. It's a mostly invisible disability for me (and I still feel strange calling it a disability because it's just how I've always seen, and yet here I am making a list of complexities regarding my vision, so....) A final possibly-just-me thing is that I hold my pencil like a space alien and always have. The reasoning I've given since I was a kid was because of which eye I use, I wouldn't be able to see what the end of my pencil was doing if I were holding it "correctly", so I draw and write like this:

(Video here, if you want to see the rest of that: https://www.tumblr.com/magpies-gold/699322866172346368?source=share) Can confirm from the above that head-tilt is a thing when one has monocular vision, even with two eyes. Because of the head tilt, I also get people startling me on my non-dominant side a lot, possibly because with my "blind" side tilted back and away from what I'm looking at, they think I'll see them sooner since that eye is closer to looking behind me. Therefore they don't think they're sneaking up on me. That is, right up until they appear, as if by magic, in my field of vision and I go AAAA!

Depth perception problems that I personally encounter: I don't drive so I don't have a lot to add there except that trying to learn scared me too much to proceed. I was not comfortable with how much slower my reaction time was on my left side or how I couldn't accurately judge where exactly objects in front of me were, so I gave it up in my teenage years in favour of a good pair of sneakers and a transit pass. But I will loudly say that going down stairs sucks. I am very opinionated on how much I love and appreciate when stairs have the bright yellow stripe at the edge, or some other marker to aim for. If stairs are all one uniform colour I am hesitant as hell putting my feet down because I can't tell how far a drop it is. I'm slow on descents on unfamiliar stairs and I desperately need the railing to hold on to. Going up stairs isn't bad because I have other visual cues to help me, and I'm much faster there. I also don't do well on really uneven terrain, like the rocky shores we have on beaches here. Watching my fiancé go hopping and skipping over rocks like a mountain goat gives me light wistful despair because I know if I tried that I would miscalculate almost immediately and break all my bones. My tactic is to get low and go slow if I have to cross anything where distances get tricky to guesstimate. I become a crab. I also have friends who know to slow down and will also let me hold their hand (bless). I do have peripheral vision ghosts on the non-dominant side even with two eyes. The most common thing I see is ghost cats. I'll see my cat jump up on a counter in my peripheral vision only to turn and find nothing there. Sometimes my brain will also suggest there might be a person walking in my peripheral vision. It's just overcompensating for what it has to fill in the blanks on. I can't catch things that are thrown at me except by sheer luck. Sports like baseball and badminton were brutal in high school and I got into many a verbal confrontation with my teacher while trying to explain that I had a very good reason to be afraid of the projectile coming for my face. I told him more than once to go close one eye and try it for himself and see what it's like. No peeking! I can't peek. Similarly, I can't fly a drone. I learned that very quickly when I accidentally flew Tim's full tilt into a wall. Oops. >> Drone was okay. I, on the other hand, was absolutely boggled by how I just could not tell where it was in space until boom, I'd crashed it. And that's because another thing is that I was personally born the way that I am, so I'm fully acclimated to it. I know nothing else, and I don't notice all the micro calculations that I do to translate my 2D view into 3D space so that I can move around in it. At least, I don't until I have a situation where the object I'm working with suddenly has no context, like a drone in mid-air, and then I suddenly notice my limitations. 3D movies largely don't work for me. They're basically just regular 2D movies involving stupid glasses. -shrug- Finally, video games with a lot of icons around the edges of the screen are a nightmare for me because I can't see all of my monitor at once. Again: slow as balls reaction time because I have to re-calibrate and turn my head a lot. The concept of a wide-screen monitors makes me go "Jesus, why?"

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[transastronautistic]

More context:

my therapist and I have been talking about meltdowns, and she helped me realize I’ve internalized this idea that I must Always Avoid Meldowns, that they’re to be repressed at all costs —

And she was like “By all means do what you can to regulate yourself so that you don’t get to the point of a meltdown, but if you get to that point you just gotta let it out man”

And I was like. Oh. Oh damn. 🤯

“But I don’t wanna scream so loud my neighbors get worried!”

So my therapy homework was to create a space where I’d feel safe to have meltdowns when I need to. And my wife has been so sweet — the moment I told her about it she was online looking for stuff to put in it, and putting together a design plan 🥹

I know she’s really glad to have a, like, actionable way to help me with my mental health stuff. She needs a Project and this has been just the thing.

…anyone else have a meltdown / sensory safe space?

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[zebratimw]

Spirit animal SQH

[tea-time-terrier]

The violent urge to declutter and deep clean vs. the respect you have for your roomate and their things.

[seaweedstarshine]

You know that time in the comics when the Doctor is so depressed, he shuts off the lights, turns on an interrogation spotlight, locks himself in the console room, and argues with a bunch of judgmental shadow-figures resembling his past incarnations?

And all the TARDIS' lights go out and her interior becomes a maze to keep his companions out of the console room, all from her psychic connection with the Doctor (“moodbleed”)?

And his companions are left wandering in circles for two days as the air goes “stale,” not knowing where he is but thinking the worst, while he hallucinates in a dark room?

...because I'm thinking again about the times this definitely happened when he was with the Ponds.

[im-still-a-robot]

Sailor Merope!!!

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan