#i get it that the experiences can overlap but the last thing we want to imply is that these marginalized identities are interchangeable

[jesncin]

it's Lunar New Year today so I'll be resharing Private Interview tonight! As always please be kind, it's not a trans story- it's an immigrant story. If you want a trans immigrant story you can either pick up my graphic novel Lunar Boy or wait for me to do something to martian manhunter-

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Intoxication [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

wc: 9.2k

Summary: when Spencer and reader accidentally consume aphrodisiacs, it seems impossible to maintain control of themselves. It all comes down to who will lose their mind first.

warnings: +18, mdni!! alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, unintentional use of aphrodisiacs, explicit descriptions, oral (f receiving) fingering, kissing, porn with plot, p in v, protected sex, no y/n!

It had been just over half an hour since I entered the fraternity building, fully aware that within the first second, I’d feel the need to leave. Attending any gathering wasn’t a regular thing for me. The noise, the crowds, and the multitude of germs everywhere were reason enough to avoid them.

However, that time, I thought, why not? I had never been to one of those university parties and wanted to experience it. However, I never considered the fact that, to enjoy one, you either: a) went with a group of friends or b) drank until you forgot your name and the discomfort you felt about yourself. I didn’t have the first option, nor did I want to do the second. So, after a few minutes of reflection, I decided I would walk back to my apartment and go straight to bed.

The place was huge, and since my postgraduate program didn’t include the benefit of dormitories, I rarely found myself in places like that. I was about to leave when a hand grabbed my forearm to stop me. In front of me, smiling widely, was her. The moment I saw her, I could swear my face lit up.

“Hi”

“Spencer! I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Without letting go of my arm, she came closer, wrapping me in a hug and planting a kiss on my cheek before I could react.

I quickly glanced at her, and in the dim light, I noticed her wearing a fitted, spaghetti-strap dress in a deep burgundy red with delicate floral embroidery that looked hand-drawn on the sheer fabric. The material, likely chiffon or tulle, clung to her figure as if custom-made. I tried to focus on her leather jacket instead because the last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable by staring too long.

“I was just about to leave, actually.”

“Why?” she asked, noticing my sigh.

“It’s just... I don’t know anyone here.”

“Well, that problem is now solved,” she kindly murmured.

I didn’t even get the chance to respond when she had already walked over to another girl, whispering something in her ear, probably to let her know she’d be away for a while.

Even though I wanted to decline to stay, the truth was that I genuinely enjoyed her company. Rejecting her would have been too rude. We had met some time ago thanks to the advanced classes she took, which overlapped with mine. She was younger than me, of course, but only by one or two years.

She had always been kind to me, attentive, and one could say she was a friend. After all, I trusted her enough to let her hold my hand and guide me through the crowd, despite my aversion to physical contact… and people.

“It’d be a crime to let you leave so early after finally coming to a party,” she breathed once we were both seated on a tiny couch where the noise was slightly muffled. At least she had been considerate in that regard.

“I don’t even know why I came,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. She was leaning against one side, legs crossed, looking at me with a smile. “I don’t like parties.”

“Do you like drinking?” she asked. I shook my head “Maybe that’s the root of the problem.”

“Getting drunk to the point of losing control isn’t my thing,” I replied.

“That’s not what it’s about,” she murmured almost compassionately “It’s more like… fuel for your social battery, you know? You don’t have to deal with these people. I don’t even know half of them, but the guys in this fraternity are disgustingly rich and just want to get as many girls drunk as possible to sleep with whoever they can. They won’t mind if you drink a little. Enough to have fun, but not so much you end up in some stranger’s bed.”

I thought about it for a second and silently nodded. I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of her by saying I didn’t want to drink because, come on, what kind of university student doesn’t drink?

“I understand your point, and I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but alcohol has a more complex impact than it seems. It’s not just something that ‘fuels your social battery’; it’s a central nervous system depressant, which means it slows down brain and motor functions. That initial feeling of euphoria or relaxation happens because it inhibits the prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain that regulates judgment and self-awareness. So, technically, drinking a little might make you feel more uninhibited or confident, but it can also impair your ability to make rational decisions if you overdo it, even if you don’t notice right away.”

I paused, gauging how much more I should say before losing her interest. Hearing no objections, I continued:

“Additionally, strong liquors, which have high ethanol concentrations, can hit your system faster than diluted drinks. And if you drink too quickly, you could easily exceed your liver’s ability to metabolize the alcohol. The excess ethanol stays in your bloodstream, raising your blood alcohol levels and increasing the risk of intoxication.”

I avoided looking directly at her, partly because I didn’t want to get distracted by her gaze and partly because I was nervous around her.

“It’s not that I want to ruin your fun, but if you’re going to drink, you should do it slowly, alternating with water, and never on an empty stomach. Not to seem smarter than everyone else, but because staying in control can be the difference between a fun night and a situation you don’t want to be in.”

I expected her to look bored, confused, or even indifferent, assuming she’d left halfway through my rambling. But when I looked at her, I was surprised by the admiration shining in her eyes, accompanied by an amused smile.

“All right, genius boy, if you know all that and basically have the perfect recipe for not making stupid mistakes while drinking, why do you still refuse?” she teased playfully. I didn’t know what to say, but luckily, she answered for me “Listen, I drove here. How about we make a deal? We can drink a little, have a good time, maybe dance if you want, and if either of us starts doing something embarrassing, the soberest one will make sure to drag the other to the car and drive them home. Deal?”

She handed me her car keys, and I wasn’t sure if the brush of her hand against mine was intentional or if she had decided to linger a little longer.

I agreed to her proposal, and a second later, she was already off her seat, walking toward where I assumed the kitchen was. No one noticed us entering, too absorbed in their own business to care if we were strangers.

There was every type of alcohol scattered around, and she took the liberty of pouring me a shot of a clear liquid, which I guessed was vodka. She warned me to drink it in one gulp, and when the warmth hit my throat, I barely managed to avoid coughing. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“Tastes like… strawberry.”

“It’s good, right?” she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful nudge.

Our previous seat was already taken, so she opted for us to stand in a quiet corner. I have to admit that, although I still felt slightly awkward, the vodka was having the desired effect; making me feel more animated to talk.

Talking to her was almost hypnotic. Maybe it was the rhythmic movement of her lips, still stained with traces of what had once been red lipstick, or perhaps it was her tone, but it made me feel like I had to watch her. She never faltered when she spoke, always exuding confidence and calm, no matter the topic.

On the other hand, whenever I responded, I completely lost focus. No matter what I said, she kept looking at me with a wide smile, nodding, and even leaning closer when something made her laugh. But her laugh wasn’t mocking—no, it was as if she genuinely found my intellectual jokes or nonsensical remarks funny.

Gradually, my glass emptied, and she guided me back to the kitchen, serving us moderately but consistently. After an hour, all my nerves had vanished, leaving only a normal guy enjoying the terrible background music, unconcerned about how dirty the place was, and utterly captivated by the woman next to him.

“It’s strange, you know? I didn’t think I’d enjoy something like this. Parties always seemed so… chaotic,”

She looked around with a slight smile.

“That’s true. They’re not exactly calm, but in a way, the chaos has its charm. It lets you leave everything else behind for a while.”

“I suppose you’re right. Sometimes, you just need to disconnect.”

“You seem less tense now, huh? Are you sure it’s not the vodka helping with that?”

She moved closer, almost leaning against my chest in a friendly way, and seeing her looking up at me made my face feel hot.

“Maybe. But it’s also largely due to the company.”

She seemed surprised by my sudden boldness and let out a laugh that I interpreted as a sign of approval. We continued drinking, laughing, and soon my stomach demanded food. Even in my slightly tipsy state, I still remembered that eating would help lessen the effects of the alcohol.

I have to admit that the way I held her waist to guide her to the kitchen was entirely intentional. However, she didn’t seem bothered by the contact. By this point, I’d realized that no one really cared about what we took or didn’t take, so we felt free to rummage through the pantry.

“There are chips, pretzels, Cheetos, some cookies...” she began listing, handing me each package she found.

I grabbed a stray cookie, and suddenly, she let out a sigh of admiration.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate,” she murmured happily. It was a half-eaten, luxurious-looking golden package with no label “Do you want some?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Chocolate has properties that can slightly boost energy and mood. Both alcohol and chocolate can be hard for the body to handle, especially with a combination of high sugar and alcohol content. This can lead to stomach discomfort, dizziness, or a stronger hangover the next day.”

But she wasn’t listening. She had already popped a sizeable piece of chocolate into her mouth. Immediately, she offered me a piece, slightly bigger than hers.

“You have to try it,” she moaned.

I resisted, but I have to admit that the fact she grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer caught me off guard enough to let her slip the chocolate into my mouth.

“Hey!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

It was delicious, that’s for sure. Like a pair of sneaky raccoons, we kept scavenging for snacks in the kitchen until we were satisfied. She grabbed a bag of chips, and I took the bag of pretzels.

After our little break, she poured us another round of drinks, and something inside me told me it was time to stop. I decided that would be my last glass for the night.

Let’s dance she suddenly whispered, and once again, I let her lead me toward the crowd.

I didn’t know how to dance; I think that was pretty obvious. But the situation managed to make me forget that fact.

She was patient with me and laughed every time I made a mistake. Even though there was smoke around me, probably from weed, that didn't stop me from staring intently, and even somewhat intimidated, at my friend. Beautiful, statuesque, and drunk friend.

We danced for a long time until something in her swaying movements, in the way she smiled at me, began to make my head spin. It was as if the atmosphere was charged with something more—something I couldn’t identify at first.

She leaned closer, and my pulse began to quicken slightly. Her hands rose to tangle in my neck, bringing a warm sensation that followed: my thoughts seemed clearer, sharper. I wondered if it was the alcohol, but then something different began to course through my skin.

The warmth intensified, not just in my body but in my mind as well. I felt more alert, more awake, yet the calmness of the vodka lingered, balancing the sensation. My skin felt more sensitive, as if every little touch sent vibrations through me in a more intense way.

My eyes focused more on her movements, her voice, and the way the air filled with her perfume. I wanted to get closer, as if there were an invisible force pulling me toward her. And though my body responded with a soft yearning, my mind remained present, conscious of every second.

By the way she was looking at me, I imagined I wasn’t the only one experiencing these kinds of emotions.

“Sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“Can we sit down for a moment? I’m completely sweaty, and the smell of weed is starting to bother me.”

“Of course.”

My hands rested on her waist, unsure of where else to go, and we stumbled out of the crowd, finding a couch to collapse onto.

I was sweaty too, and we were both breathing heavily. When I saw her lean her head back against the seat, leaving her neck exposed, something stirred inside me.

“You move well, Reid.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I mean it. You just need a little confidence,” she smiled. Perhaps the alcohol dulled her sense of personal space, which is why she leaned so close to me. “You’re so smart that, with a bit of practice, you’d be the most skilled at a lot of physical activities.”

Did she know how nervous she was making me? My face was already flushed from the alcohol, the effort, and now from the way she was looking at me while twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

I wanted to say something else, but a voice interrupted mine: a tall, burly guy accompanied by two others who seemed to be flanking him. Probably a member of the fraternity hosting the party.

He specifically addressed her, asking how she was enjoying the party and throwing in a compliment, clearly with ulterior motives. For a moment, I felt disheartened. Of course, she could have gone with him and I would have understood. I was far too used to rejection.

“I’m having a great time—with my friend. Thanks,” she exclaimed, cordial but curt.

“Want a drink?”

“Honestly, no.”

By the uncomfortable smile she gave the men, I assumed she was politely ending the conversation. With some reluctance, the guys walked away.

Suddenly, my breath caught when I felt her hand rest on my thigh, sliding painfully slowly down to my knee. I couldn’t even hear her words over the heat of her fingers on my pants.

“Sorry?”

“I thought you were going to say something, earlier.”

“No,” I quickly replied, smiling like an idiot because of the way she had leaned toward me. “Nothing.”

“I like listening to you. You know so many things, and you don’t make me feel dumb when you explain them. That’s very sexy.”

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, because I’d replied in a voice an octave higher than normal. “You are very sexy.”

Her compliment was followed by a soft, distracted kiss on the line of my jaw, which sent my brain into overdrive.

“Uhm… you… you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.”

My clumsy compliment seemed to please her, and I felt one of her nails, long and painted black, tracing circles on the skin of my knee. Each small movement felt deliberate, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Did you know fireflies don’t just glow to communicate but also to… attract?”

Her voice broke the silence between us, soft but layered with a double meaning that made me lift my eyes to her.

“Yes, I know,” I responded automatically, my brain switching to autopilot. “Bioluminescent signals are a form of courtship. The light patterns vary by species and can be very specific.”

She turned her head toward me, her lips curving into a lazy smile.

“Of course you’d know that. But tell me something—do you think it actually works? Making someone notice you just by glowing?”

My throat went dry. There was something about the way she was looking at me, like she was expecting a more personal answer than a scientific one.

“I guess it depends on who you’re trying to attract,” I murmured, feeling ridiculously exposed under her gaze.

“That makes sense.”

Her hand slid slightly—barely noticeable—toward the edge of my knee. After tapping her fingers on my pants, she withdrew it.

She didn’t move from the couch, and neither did I. There was something about her posture that held me captive—the way she leaned back against the seat, relaxed yet naturally elegant. Her dress had ridden up slightly along her thighs, revealing more skin than I felt prepared to handle at that moment. I tried to look elsewhere, but it was as if my eyes had a will of their own, always returning to the same place.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Yes, of course,” I replied quickly, turning my head in the other direction. Perhaps too quickly, because my neck cracked slightly in the process.

She didn’t say anything, but her suppressed laughter made me feel even more awkward. In the silence that followed, I forced myself to focus on something safer: the empty glass on the table, the flickering lights through the window, anything but the curve of her leg or the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?” she commented suddenly, with almost theatrical casualness. Then, without warning, she leaned forward as if to adjust her shoe, causing the neckline of her dress to dip even further.

“Do you think so?” I muttered, my voice raspier than I intended.

She smiled, a gesture somewhere between innocence and knowing.

“Yes, definitely. Though maybe it’s because we’re sitting so close,” she said, glancing around as if she had only just noticed the temperature.

Her words felt like both a slap and a caress at the same time. I tried to keep my gaze fixed on her face, but it didn’t help that her eyes shone with a kind of mischievous intent. Then she lifted one leg, bending it to get more comfortable on the couch, and her knee accidentally brushed against my thigh.

“Did you know you have a very particular way of distracting yourself?” she remarked while toying with the hem of her dress, as if unaware of the chaos she was causing in my head.

“Do I?” my voice sounded weak, almost a whisper.

She nodded slowly, leaning in a bit closer until I could feel the warmth of her proximity.

“Yes. It’s like you’re trying to avoid something but… you can’t.”

My throat went dry. I wanted to say something clever, to steer the conversation away, anything to regain some ground. But instead, all that came out was a nervous, forced laugh.

She didn’t stop looking at me. Then, with exasperating slowness, she smoothed the fabric of her dress over her thigh—a casual gesture.

“You know, sometimes you seem so self-aware. It’s something that can be endearing, but also… well, how do I put it?” she paused for a moment, bringing a finger to her lips as if she were reflecting. “It makes you seem easier to impress.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, Reid. It’s just me rambling” her voice softened, and I felt the lightest touch on my nose as her finger grazed it. I tried to ignore the fact that her gaze had lingered on my lips “Scattered thoughts I have in my head.”

Without warning, she let out a loud exhale and leaned back into the couch, arching her back as if trying to relieve some muscle tension. I know she probably wasn’t aware of the movement, but it was what finally made me lose the little composure I had left.

“I need to use the restroom. Can you give me a moment?”

I escaped. Cowardly, completely, I got up and practically bolted toward the bathroom, desperate for a moment of peace. As soon as I entered, I realized I had an obvious problem in my pants—I was hard as a rock, and that wasn’t good. I looked at myself in the mirror, surprised at how flushed my face was. My pupils were dilated, my lips dry… What the hell was happening to me?

It quickly became clear that she was the reason for my situation.

The alcohol prevented me from feeling the embarrassment I surely deserved, and instead, I felt like my head was spinning. I placed a hand over the fabric of my pants, letting out a frustrated, pained groan.

I stayed there for a while, trying to think of something that would make my erection go away, but nothing worked. A couple of knocks on the door startled me, and that forced me to leave. Once in the hallway, I walked for a bit until I bumped into someone.

“Spencer! I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?”

“No! I mean, yes… it’s just…”

I needed to think of something quickly—something believable, but not catastrophic. However, it was hard to concentrate with her body so close to mine, mere inches away from her noticing my situation.

“Did you throw up?”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s nothing. I think the vodka didn’t sit well with me, uh, maybe I got dizzy from dancing, I don’t know. I think it’s best if I leave.”

“Poor thing,” she murmured, pouting “I’ll take you home right now.”

“I can take a cab.”

“Nonsense. That was our agreement, remember? If one of us was in bad shape, the other would take care of them. Plus, I was the one who encouraged you to drink. I’d feel bad if something happened to you.”

She was already putting on her jacket—she’d been holding it, probably suspecting the situation—and tried to find the keys in her pocket. My outstretched hand reminded her that she’d already given them to me earlier.

When she placed her hand on the small of my back to guide me out, my breathing deepened. The sensation of excitement coursed through me in a way I couldn’t ignore. I realized that something in me desperately wanted her. Too much.

It wasn’t an impulsive desire but a subtle one that had been building throughout the night—with every glance, every gesture. Perhaps the vodka had intensified my evident attraction to her, but whatever the reason, it had turned into something far more palpable.

It was almost as if my body was begging me to stop her right then and there, to kiss her recklessly, and maybe, just maybe, ease the relentless ache inside me.

The cool night air made me feel better, and as the noise faded behind us, I began to calm down. I fervently tried to hide the bulge in my pants, but the truth was she didn’t even seem to notice. Then again, it would’ve been strange to catch her staring at my crotch, right?

“Are you sure you’re in a condition to drive?”

“I’ve driven home in far worse states of drunkenness. Don’t worry,” she smiled.

She looked more lucid now, as if her intoxication had vanished in an instant. I decided to trust her abilities.

The drive home was silent, and I kept shifting in my seat, trying to find strategic positions to avoid embarrassment. I guess she attributed my silence to the supposed discomfort I was feeling, as she didn’t try to start a conversation.

She didn’t say anything when she caught me looking at her through the rearview mirror. It was an innocent glance, at least on my part, simply admiring her. Her lips were driving me crazy, her eyes, slightly narrowed from the lack of light and smudged with mascara, seemed the most beautiful to me. I didn’t know what she saw in me, but I think—no, I feel—that it was something she liked.

“Thank you so much for bringing me home… and for everything.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Quite a lot, actually.”

“We should do this more often.”

“Go to university parties?”

“Just go out in general. To a bar, grab some drinks, a coffee, the library if you’d prefer,” she laughed “The place doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re there.”

Was she implying she wanted a date with me? I swallowed hard and looked at her, trying to decipher what she wanted me to do. I couldn’t figure it out.

“I’d like that, yes. We can talk about that later. Thanks again for the ride.”

A kiss on my cheek marked her goodbye, and I rushed out, eager to get inside my apartment. I was about to unlock the building’s door when the sound of a car horn made me turn around.

“Hey, would you mind if I use your bathroom? I’ll be quick,” she promised.

I needed to get to the shower and turn on the cold water, but I didn’t protest when she turned off the car engine.

Almost no one visited me in the apartment, so I kept the space however I pleased. It wasn’t really messy, but there were plenty of things on the desk and several books scattered around.

She entered, as she had said, rushing to the bathroom. It was only then that I dared to put a hand over my pants, swallowing a moan that was about to escape from my throat.

In my limited sexual experiences, nothing like this had ever happened to me, and I wondered what the cause might have been. Alcohol couldn’t be blamed, of course, but it was responsible for ruining my ability to react enough to find another explanation.

The shirt began to feel heavy on me, and almost out of necessity, I undid the first buttons to let myself breathe. I tried to ventilate my skin by tugging at the fabric with the tips of my fingers, but it was useless. I sighed.

I glanced around the room, just wanting to make sure nothing was embarrassing in view, and at that moment, she came out of the bathroom. She looked flushed and had some wet hair, as if she had washed her face.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just… suddenly felt a bit feverish”

“Let me check”

My intentions were purely medical when I cupped her face with one hand, putting the back of the other against her forehead to confirm or deny my suspicions. Of course, I hadn’t considered how close we would be. Or maybe I had, subconsciously, and that’s why I moved forward.

My choice of words wasn't the best either.

“You’re hot,”

“I don’t think it’s as much as you.”

A daring smile slid across her lips, and I held my breath as her fingers traced up to the line of my collarbone, exposed by my shirt.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s just… I don’t understand it.”

A soft laugh echoed in my ears.

“Well, I think you’re very handsome. Would there be any other reason for that?”

I swallowed deeply. She noticed the movement of my Adam’s apple.

“No… I think… I think not. It’s the most logical thing.”

“Don’t they tell you that often?” she murmured, genuinely confused. I shook my head “That’s a shame.”

Her hand, which had been tentatively caressing my skin, moved up to my neck and pulled me just a few inches closer to her.

“Hey, Spencer.”

“Yes?”

“Could I kiss you?”

A chill ran down my spine. And without thinking, I answered yes.

Her mouth found mine with a softness that contrasted with the whirlwind of sensations inside me. It was a heady contrast: the sweetness of her lips against the intensity of the desire that had been building up in every fiber of my being.

My hands instinctively moved to her waist, hesitating for a moment, as if fearing that this might just be a product of my imagination. But she didn’t hesitate. Her body leaned into me, closing any distance that remained.

Her lips were insistent, demanding, and before I could process what was happening, her hand slid down to my chest, pushing me gently back until my back collided with the wall.

“I’m sorry…” I managed to murmur between kisses, pulling my face slightly away. My voice came out more trembly than I wanted.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her face toward mine, her fingers now brushing my jawline.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“For this” my gaze dropped quickly before returning to her eyes. “No… I didn’t want you to feel it. It’s embarrassing.”

For a moment, I thought she would pull away, that the spell of the moment would break. But instead, her lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Embarrassing? I thought I was the only one feeling all this tension,” her tone was low, almost a whisper, but filled with a certainty that made my breath grow even more erratic.

Before I could respond, her lips captured mine again, this time with more intensity. The kiss was everything I didn’t know I needed: desperate, intoxicating, completely consumed by the connection between us. I felt her body press against mine, her curves fitting perfectly as if they were made to be there. And then, all my doubts, all my attempts to hold back, vanished.

My mind was a whirlwind. Every touch of her lips, every time her tongue sought mine, was like a fire I couldn’t put out. My face was hot, yes, but now not because of the alcohol, not even from the effort of holding myself back. It was her closeness, her touch, her condescending voice still echoing in my head.

She knows what she’s doing. And she’s slowly killing me.

“Hey, wait…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you feel okay with this?”

“A lot. Do you want to stop?”

“No. It’s just that… you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you” my voice came out hoarse, full of doubt and repressed desire.

Her eyes met mine, firm and warm at the same time, as if her gaze could completely disarm me.

“Relax. You’ve been drinking too, pretty, and I think if anyone could make that accusation, it would be you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?”

“No”

“I’m fully aware of everything. I don’t even feel drunk anymore. The only thing that’s making me dizzy right now is you, Spencer…”

I shivered when I heard my name on her lips like that. She continued:

“I’m just as anxious as you are. I’ve been holding back all night, trying not to make this too obvious, but I can’t anymore. Please, don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt what I want. I want you”

Her confession hit my heart like a blow and ignited a spark that set my entire body on fire. My hand moved up her back until it tangled in her hair, while the other rested on her hip. The pull was gentle but enough for her to understand that my inner struggle had ended. I wasn’t resisting this anymore.

I wanted her too. I wanted her now.

“I never imagined…”

My words were barely audible as our lips brushed in a kiss that was both an explosion of emotions and a long-awaited relief. Her mouth was soft, and so perfectly synchronized with mine that I felt like the world stopped at that moment.

Her hands gripped my shoulders, anchoring the connection between us, while my thumb traced a slow path along her jawline, savoring every detail of her skin. It was more than a kiss. It was the confirmation of something that had been lingering all evening.

When we parted just a centimeter to breathe, our foreheads stayed pressed together.

“Did that clear your doubts?”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say all that,” I replied with a weak smile, the only one my pounding heart allowed me to form.

“Then stop overthinking”

The space between us disappeared again as we kissed with desperation we had both been suppressing. Her low laugh vibrated against my lips, and I couldn’t help but smile. How did she do it? How did she drive me crazy with so little effort?

But now wasn’t the time for questions. It was time to feel.

The whole world had reduced itself to him: his warm breath, his lips that wavered between soft and desperate, and the hands that roamed my waist with a mix of reverence and clumsiness, making me want him even more. Spencer had always been an enigma to me, a balance between restraint and passion that I didn't know how to decipher... until now.

I had waited for this moment more than I would ever admit. Maybe it had been the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice, or the warmth in his voice when he said my name, as if it were something sacred. But now, with his body pressed against mine and his doubts finally gone, I knew I hadn't imagined anything.

It was as if the pieces of a puzzle I had been trying to put together in the dark finally clicked into place, and the resulting image was more beautiful than I had ever dreamed.

Wanting to reverse the roles, it was now him who gently pushed me against the wall, and I felt the control he always seemed to have begin to crack. His breath was heavy, his body trembling slightly, a sign that this was as new and overwhelming for him as it was for me.

"Spencer..." I murmured his name again, feeling it resonate in my chest at the same time his lips moved more intensely against mine. "Can I ask you something?"

I received an affirmative exhalation, and to let me speak, his lips moved to the hollow of my neck. Although my mouth was free, the soft and wet kisses I was receiving blurred my judgment a bit.

"Tell me”

"Did you really feel bad at the party? Or was it just..."

"I didn't want you to notice what you were doing to me. Although I think at this point it doesn't matter much, right?"

Contrary to what I expected, Spencer pushed his hips against mine, as if he wanted to prove that it was true. I could even call it a claim, something that said: look what you did to me. And I wanted him to know just how much my body was begging for him.

Carefully, I moved one of his hands from my waist, and before he could protest, I guided it to one of my thighs, dangerously close to my core. I was glad I had thought of lingerie as a great complement to my dress, maybe in an attempt to feel sexy even if no one saw it. But now, he was going to see it.

Spencer understood my silent request. Those long, slender fingers, which seemed made for more than just flipping through the pages of a book or scribbling frantic notes on paper, slid across my smooth skin. I sighed as I remembered the veins tracing a map under his fair skin, like rivers of contained energy.

Until they finally reached where I needed them. And his touch... God, his touch was something else. They were hands made for discovery, for holding, for exploring, but in those moments, they seemed to be made only for me.

Spencer wasn't an overly bold guy, so it didn't surprise me that he just traced shapes above my panties, as if he wanted to diagnose my anatomy before making any move. My sighs at his ear seemed to please him.

Suddenly, he stopped kissing me, and I huffed, since I liked the attention he was giving my shoulder, until I felt his lips drop just slightly. A loud, pathetic moan escaped me when he squeezed my tits while burying his face to leave an experimental kiss.

I was barely processing that when he knelt in front of me and, carefully, took the edge of my dress and lifted it.

My legs trembled with anticipation at the thought of what he was going to do next, and then I felt his lips brush my thigh. He started gentle, kind, but soon he began sucking every bit of skin he could, and in the end, he made sure to leave bites strong enough to make me whimper.

Who would have thought that this man, seemingly so inexperienced, turned out to offer the best foreplay a woman could desire?

I squealed as I felt his kisses trail down to the fabric of my panties, pausing for a moment to lick the length of my still-clothed pussy.

“You’re dripping wet,” he observed. I was too focused on not giving in right then and there to say anything "Is oral something you're into?"

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed honestly. I didn’t care how vulnerable I looked as I confessed that no man had ever dared to give me head “You?”

“It’s an idea that piques my curiosity, yes.”

Gently he slid some of the fabric aside to clear the way for his tongue, and I felt as if my entire body was only aware of the parts he was probing, kissing, sucking. When he raised my thigh to shoulder height, deepening his thrusts, I felt like I was going to pass out.

I lowered my hand to his thick head and tried, in vain, to push him away from me. I honestly didn’t have the strength or desire to do so, much less when he had picked up the pace.

I moaned a sweet nickname out loud and then Spencer pulled away, looking up at me with glossy, swollen lips.

“Take me to bed, please.”

He didn’t need me to say it twice as he immediately stood up and took me by the waist to guide me to said spot. I was able to taste myself on his lips and for some reason that only turned me on.

Once we hit the mattress the way he laid me down was gentle and I sighed at that. How could he be so sweet all the time? I wondered. And worse yet, how much would this little adventure affect my future expectations?

Because if it was about standards, I was finding out that Spencer Reid was the standard.

Seemingly more enthralled now by my lips than my pussy, he continued with the make-out session we were having. With each touch we had, my excitement was increasing more and more. In the midst of it all I managed to unbutton his shirt and take it off to leave it somewhere on the bed; the semi-darkness of the room shielded any insecurities he might be feeling, as well as my own.

“You are painfully stunning, did you know?”

My tone was one of reproach, and he laughed at that, looking down almost embarrassed. Maybe he wasn't used to compliments, but something told me he was definitely enjoying it.

I heard him murmur something under his breath about me, while he took down the straps of my dress. My hands almost instinctively went to unbuckle his belt, and before I could do anything, he pulled away from me. Needless to say, this left me confused.

"Sorry, I..."

“You don't want to?” I murmured understandingly. I thought maybe he wasn't a big fan of these situations, and I understood, but somehow I felt hurt.

"No! Sure I want to. I want it a lot, but..." he tried not to look at me, as if avoiding confrontation "It's just that I don't have any protection here”

A laugh escaped my lips, and I feared he might interpret it as mockery, so I stretched my neck to steal another kiss.

"One would think there are many girls who pass through these sheets."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you. It's cute, actually. It even makes me feel guilty," I murmured, smiling "For a second, I was afraid something had made you uncomfortable."

"No, it's not that."

I hesitated for a second whether I should suggest what was on my mind.

"We could do it like this. It doesn't bother me."

"It's not just about avoiding an unwanted pregnancy..." he began. At that moment, I saw him return to his usual nerdy mode. "Although, of course, that counts. But there are things like sexually transmitted infections, some of which don't even show symptoms at first and could complicate things if not detected on time. I know this doesn't sound very attractive, but believe me, protection isn't just for avoiding future problems; it's also to take care of you now, so you don't have issues later: because sometimes men can transmit diseases we're asymptomatic for, and to be honest, I've never done those kinds of tests. A lot of people don't think about it, but the risks are real. And don't get me wrong, I trust you, but even though you trust me, diseases don't discriminate. And I'd like us both to have that peace of mind. Prevention is never too much."

“You conflict me deeply. On the one hand, I admire how responsible you are; it's very cute. But on the other hand, I just urgently need you to fuck me deep and cum inside me”

Spencer was surprised by my desperate whining and tensed when I placed one of my legs around his waist, trying to persuade him. But I was even more surprised when I felt him pull completely away to stand beside the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the pharmacy," he announced, putting a jacket over his bare torso.

"Are you serious?" I laughed widely, sitting on the bed now that my companion had moved away.

"Definitely. I feel like I can't handle it any longer, it’s physically painful, and when you talk to me like that, it just drives me crazy” he groaned, joining in the fun. It was the first time something like this happened, and I honestly thought it was absolutely hilarious “I'll be back in a minute, I swear! Please, don't go...”

"I couldn't," I murmured sweetly. He came closer, and I took the opportunity to kiss him again "Be quick. I'll be waiting anxiously for you."

Something in my tone of voice affected the man, or maybe it was the wink I gave him, but I saw him bolt out the door. I flopped back onto the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening.

I have to admit that my classmate had always been attractive to me, but I never thought he could feel the same way. Not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be waiting for him in his bed so that, with any luck, he could ravish me without holding back.

As I reached out my arms, I could feel the fabric of the shirt I had previously removed from him, and then I brought it up to my nose, inhaling without thinking. A familiar scent hit me immediately: the mix of sweet cocktails he had drank during the party and a subtle trace of cannabis, as if the night was still impregnated in him. I could distinguish a hint of wood, perhaps from the furniture in the place, combined with a light scent of sweat that was not bothersome, but rather natural. And then, among all that, there was his perfume: a citrus and spicy aroma that evoked something fresh, but also deep, sensual, as if every molecule of his being was waiting for something more. I breathed harder, feeling that this aroma, this moment, defined him.

I didn't know why that particular night my whole body was screaming for his closeness. I was crazy about him and it wasn't the alcohol's fault, because I'd had too many drinks to know. Neither of us had ever done drugs and for a moment I was terrified by the idea that I could want to be with someone like that, with such fervor that it was worrying.

Still dizzy from the excitement of the moment, I lowered one of my hands to my crotch to get rid of my panties. I thought about him, wondering how skilled he was. Not that I doubted his abilities, but just like I’d told him that night, he might need some practice.

I started to fantasize about helping him through this situation, maybe guiding him or pampering him by just asking him to lay back so I could do all the work. Spencer was the kind of man who invited you to please him, the kind of man you wanted to satisfy because he never pressured you into it.

Playing with myself, I sniffed his shirt again, desperately wishing I could have the source of said scent with me, until my brain was filled only with daydreams in which he was the protagonist and my fingers were replaced by his. That's why I didn't notice when he opened the apartment. And that's why I didn't know he was watching me from the door frame until I heard him let out a ragged sigh.

Being caught in that position made me feel embarrassed at first, but the way he practically lunged at me and kissed me more decisively than before, I figured he liked seeing me like that.

"Busy?"

I was caught off guard by his sassiness and I knew he was proud of it by the smile I felt on my neck.

“I guess you found what we need, right?”

“Uh-huh”

“Have you read any books on female anatomy?”

“Quite a few”

“So I guess you know a lot about sexuality, don’t you?”

“In theory, yes. Unfortunately, I haven’t had many opportunities to put it into practice.”

A smile spread across my face, which luckily he couldn't see because he was too busy leaving a trail of kisses along the top of my torso.

“How unfortunate, considering you’re a scientist. I wouldn’t mind becoming an object of your study, though, you know?”

He subtly slid the straps of my dress and revealed my bra, from which a considerable part of my boobs protruded, which he happily kissed.

At the same time his hand came down to caress me, making me shiver with anticipation, resting on just the right spots. It was the least I could expect from such an intellectual man, one who definitely knew about the thousands of nerve endings concentrated in my clitoris, which he was definitely tapping into to satisfy me.

“May I?” he whispered, looking at the little underwear he still had on.

I nodded immediately and arched my back to make it easier for him to unbutton it, which didn't take too long. He was practically worshipping every inch of my skin, which, combined with his gentle yet firm fingers rubbing me, was driving me crazy.

We both moaned in unison as he pushed a finger into me. It felt just as good as I had imagined.

I had read somewhere that, physiologically, women need more time to achieve an orgasm and although none of my exes had cared about that, this one seemed to know that fact. Maybe that was why he was giving me such attention, which I was undoubtedly grateful for.

“Honey…” I choked out “you’re doing great, really, really good, but would you mind if we replaced those fingers? I want to feel you inside me,” I practically begged.

I never begged, I felt like a fool doing it, but if that got me the intensity of the kiss he gave me, I wouldn't mind starting to do it.

Spencer pulled away from me, searching for the packet of condoms he'd run off to get, and while he unbuttoned his pants I got rid of my dress, which by this point was just a mass of fabric around my waist.

My body wasn't perfect, but I figured that wouldn't matter to him. Besides, I doubt he'd be rude enough to mention it.

“Need a hand?” I joked playfully, noticing that he was struggling to open the silver package.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little nervous,” he said to himself, hoping I wouldn’t mind too much.

I wanted to reward him for treating me so well a few moments ago and I took the package from his hands, placing my palm on his chest until I laid him down against the mattress. Once in that position it wasn't difficult to get rid of the wrapping to place the piece of latex on him, thinking that I didn't have a single complaint about his body.

My hands on him made him nervous and I watched him turn into a mess as I began pumping his cock up and down to make sure he had the condom on properly.

“You don’t have to hold back. I like the sounds you make,” I exclaimed in a velvety tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible “That way I know you’re enjoying it.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out for much longer,” he confessed, as my hand continued to move along his length. Although I wished I could take better care of him, I understood the situation.

“Your wish is my command”

He didn't complain when I put each leg on his sides and he bravely hardened as I teased him for a moment before sinking my pussy onto his dick. I started slow, trying to make him last as long as possible, but with each second it was getting harder to keep up a pace.

I tried my best to ride him, trying to give him the best experience as a thank you for all his hospitality. And from the whimpers coming out of his throat I assume I was doing my job well.

At some point his hands ended up on my hips, guiding me as he pleased. Sometimes he pushed me down, as if he wanted to get to the bottom of me, and other times he manipulated me so that the thrusts were fast.

He wasn't lying when he said he would cum in no time, as the repressed desire added to the previous sexual actions had him on the edge of the abyss. I knew he had reached orgasm when he closed his eyes and his hips slammed against me, in erratic movements.

I kept riding him a little longer, chasing my own climax, and when I got it I put my hands against his chest, arching in pleasure. Spencer, breathing heavily, grabbed my wrists in his hands and then pulled me so that I was against his torso, my lips too close to his.

He placed his palm on my cheek and pulled me in his direction, seemingly asking for a kiss. I granted it.

“Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” I sighed wryly. It was cute that he didn’t know that sometimes girls don’t even make it. “How was it for you?”

“I'm speechless.”

I laughed and, to a certain extent, felt flattered that I had left a man who knew a million ways to express himself in that state.

We enjoyed the high we had just had for a few minutes and waited for our breathing to slow down; when our sighs took the same rhythm, he spoke again.

“You should go to the bathroom. It’s, uh… healthy for you to do it after every encounter.”

I reached for the garment he had been wearing and, trying to protect myself from the cold air, I put it on over myself.

“Do you mind lending it to me?”

“Nu-huh,” he hummed, eyeing me as if I were a cupcake. I would later learn how affected he was to see me using his clothes to slide out of bed.

When I came out of the bathroom he already had his boxers on, probably wanting to maintain modesty, and when he went to attend to his needs I also looked for my panties. It wasn't long before he returned to keep me company.

“Do you want to cuddle? I’d feel like a whore if I just left”

“Yes, of course I want”

He made sure to throw anything that was on the bed onto the floor and patted the pillows to make them more comfortable. I settled into the space next to him, leaning against his chest, right at heart level.

One of his arms was holding me from behind and in some strange way that made me feel safe; protected.

“Your feet are frozen, are you cold?”

"Not much"

“Do you want me to get you some socks?”

“I’m fine, Spencer,” I laughed softly. I brushed my cheek against his skin and tried to snuggle closer to him. “It’ll just get colder if you leave.”

“Did you know that the human body is incredibly efficient at maintaining its temperature? When two bodies are nearby, like… now,” he paused, settling a little closer to me, “heat transfer occurs due to thermal radiation and direct conduction. Essentially, each body generates heat that helps the other maintain a stable core temperature.”

“So you’re like a human blanket”

“That’s right. In fact, in situations of severe hypothermia, sharing body heat in this way can literally save lives.”

I raised my head to look at him and noticed an excited gleam in his eyes, the one he always had when he shared something from his vast knowledge.

“I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what you said earlier, about female anatomy,” seeing him frown, I continued, “No field of study considers one experimentation enough, right? Everything needs to be replicated two, three, four times. Ten times if necessary.”

“Your guess is quite accurate.”

“Say no more. We must give everything if it is in the name of science”

From the smile on his face, I knew that my joke had pleased him and that my proposal seemed to please him. To seal the deal I reached up and kissed him softly. We remained silent for a while, him caressing me over his own shirt and me enjoying the closeness.

“I like you a lot”

“I had a feeling,” I teased, earning a soft laugh from him “I really like you, too."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and for some stupid reason a blush crept up my cheeks, even though we had just had sex. I carefully placed myself on top of his body and buried my face in his neck, feeling him hug me around the waist.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, I could tell by how calm his breathing was becoming, and I tried to enjoy the peace he emanated a little longer, until, eventually, Morpheus picked me up in his arms too.

@spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @shuichiakainx @gghostwriter @cafters @weallhaveadestiny @your-left-sock @jaeminsmilk @tmrs-basilisk @kristennotstewart @lostinwonderland314 @f4tpo3s @lortheswiftie @dark-unicorn222 @samsienichole @blackholegladiator @gretaandthatsit @cherrysprlte @halfbloodwriter @piercethefic @reidingandallthat @ariel-23-19 @zorrasucia @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @juluina @kylakins88 @tinainaction @sadroses98 @dumbbunnys-safes @bowerfeithwk @freyafriggafrey

Thank you very much for your interest! I hope you liked it, if you feel like it, let me know what you think :)

[susiephone]

wtf is dracula daily?

i’ve seen a couple people ask this question on my posts about it, so i thought i’d go ahead and clear it up here!

ok so, the classic horror novel “dracula” is an epistolary novel - that means it’s told via letters, diary entries, ship logs, and news articles. (technically the term “epistolary novel” refers to works told solely through letters or emails, but many have expanded it to mean any work that is told via in-universe documents, hence why diaries and logs often get included as well. “frankenstein” is another classic example; the whole framing device is robert walton is recounting the story he heard from victor to his sister via letter. a modern example would be “several people are typing,” which is told via slack messages, or “the perks of being a wallflower,” which is told via letters from charlie to his anonymous pen pal, which is functionally more like you’re reading his diary.)

because of the nature of the narrative, we actually know the exact day nearly everything in dracula happens - the letters, news articles, diary entries, etc. are all dated.

“dracula daily” is a substack project where the novel is broken up into parts, with people who are subscribed to the project getting emails every day something in dracula happens - for example, the novel opens with jonathan harker’s journal entry on may 3, so on may 3, subscribers are emailed that entry. the action of dracula takes place from may 3 - november 6, plus an epilogue set some years later. the project started in 2021 (i think), but fucking BLEW UP in 2022, and they’re doing it again this year! lots of us are very excited - especially people like me who fell behind last time.

why not just read the book?

valid! due to some parts of dracula being told out of chronological order, dracula daily does reorder some things. for example, the first section of dracula is told entirely from jonathan harker’s pov, then the second section switches the pov to mina murray. their sections have some overlap in the timeline, so dracula daily jumps back and forth between their perspectives.

if you want to read the book as bram stoker intended, dracula daily may not be for you. but for a lot of people (myself included!), it breaks up a very long text into easily digestible chunks (....mostly. there is one entry that is 10k words), and the fact that it’s a big project means there are a lot of people reading along with you.

i think there’s also something valuable about experience the slow revelation of wtf is going on along with the characters. the book which you might otherwise get through in a few days is stretched out into months of suspense and agony as you wait for the other shoe to drop, and it’s great.

plus, the whiplash between “jonathan harker’s neverending horror” vs “lucy is basically on the bachelorette” that you get in dracula daily is very very funny.

how do i sign up?

right here! and if you sign up and fall behind in the emails, no worries - the dracula daily website posts past entries so you can catch up.

what if i prefer audiobooks?

have i got great news for you!

like i mentioned before, i couldn’t keep up with the emails last year. part of it is that it is much easier for me to focus on an audiobook or keep up with a podcast than it is for me to sit down and read, especially with longer entries.

this year, there is going to be a podcast titled “re: dracula” that was inspired by dracula daily. every episode will be a dracula daily entry, with a full voice cast! (seriously, if you listen to british podcasts, you will recognize some of these names. the magnus archives and wooden overcoats girlies are WINNING.) you can find that here.

there is also a podcast called “cryptic canticles” that has an already-completed audiodrama of dracula that i’m told is also extremely good, and was also broken up by date. you can find that here.

why do i keep hearing about paprika/the boyfriend squad/lizard fashion/cowboys?

you’ll see.

oh god am i gonna hear about this nerd shit for the rest of the year

yes. sorry.

[sootsz]

qsmp has accidentally stumbled into a psychology experiment that would make the stanford prison experiment sob in fear. they’ve gotten a bunch of cc’s, and tens of thousands of viewers, to be deeply emotionally connected to pixel eggs. in doing so they’ve presented a problem:

how the fuck do you get outta this

the eggs were obviously never intended to be permanent (logging on every day to do tasks isn’t feasible to upkeep forever) and they were even given a vague limit of When Mama Dragon Comes Back (and then, of course, the “6 days til they die” thing). now you’ve made it so quackity (and his team) have a big ol dilemma, where two things are true: 1) they can’t keep the eggs forever since it’s not sustainable 2) you can’t take away the eggs without, oopsies, emotionally damaging your friends that you invited to have fun on your server.

turns out, when you give a group of humans all their own fully-realized individual who presents as a (weak, vulnerable) child that is in need of care from them, whatever instinct has kept us alive for generations goes “!!!!!” which is both really cool and compassionate, but also kinda concerning!

because, well: not sustainable! and if the eggs aren’t sustainable, what’s the alternative? killing them?? no! just look at jaiden’s reaction to bobby “losing” a life, even when it wasn’t his last one. or bad’s genuinely heart wrenching reaction to dapper losing a life. or how quiet and angry phil got after chayanne and tallulah had a “nightmare,” before it was resolved. that’s not acting. that’s real. what the hell will they do if the eggs actually die? from what i see, the cc’s are taking the “6 days til death” thing as something that’s avoidable. a threat that can be overcome. and for their sake, i hope it is.

ever played a dnd game where you actually feel insulted bc of smth someone’s pc did? yeah. that x20 because there’s SO much overlap between “streamer persona” and “literally just who they are”. and this level of roleplay character bleeding is cool, but i hope the eggs are handled carefully, or all those involved might end up actually hurt.

there’s also the whole added element of fans, many of whom only tune into the streams for egg content. the plot is very egg-centric. the roleplaying and characterization that the cc’s are doing is all centered around the eggs in one way or another. it’s been going on for a month, but it does not feel at all resolved, and plot-wise it would completely mess up so many plot threads happening if the eggs were all to go (charlie’s unresolved deal with lil j, quackity’s goal to bond with tallulah, the trial, etc etc) so if you take away the eggs, you risk messing up the whole vibe they’ve got going on, and facing backlash from fans who are also emotionally compromised by pixel eggs

we inherently want to protect the cute and vulnerable, and by god are these eggs cute and so very fragile. (then, there’s another layer of people’s own issues that they project onto the eggs. be it desire for paternity, some kind of maternal instinct, or, even in the matter of chayanne, using chayanne as a sort of way to cope with loss by making connections between chayanne and technoblade. which is beautiful and very sweet but would give chayanne dying some additional emotionally charged elements which i think should be avoided at all costs). there’s a reason that movies and other media generally do not kill named children characters—audiences really hate it. it’s taboo for good reason.

which leads us to

schrodinger’s egg: until sunday, they r both alive and dead. and this is both good and bad. god help us all

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod (The Mountain Goats)

Held under these smothering waves/By your strong and thick-veined hand/But one of these days/I'm gonna wriggle up on dry land

"Songs about abusive parents dont normally get to me but john darnielle just has such a way with words that this one made me cry the first time i heard it. hes really good at taking just a snapshot of a situation and coloring it with so much depth that you feel like you know exactly how the singer (in this case his childhood self) is feeling in this very specific moment, ankitd it hits so much harder when your experiences overlap. the metaphor of surviving abuse as evolution against all odds is incredibly powerful to me. maybe this tournament is supposed to be more for songs to think about fictional characters to so apologies if this is too personal for what youre going for lol"

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[koolades-world]

hiii i was wondering if you could write abt an asian mc ? with the brothers or the dateables i don't mind! i just think it would be funny to see yk asian mc who's a high achiever (so even at RAD when they know nothing abt magic they'll try to score high), always take off their shoes before entering a place (entering a place with shoes is forbidden !!), always cook rice or stuff from their country when on cooking duties ("wdym we already ate that when it was my turn last time?"), will make you special herbal tea if you're sick (first time i suggested to make tea for my ill white friend they laughed :( ), tells you to eat more and in the same fashion, whose love language is giving you food, etc... bonus point if mc swears in their mother tongue. And if the MC was living in their native country before going to the devildom, their ability to just nap anywhere as if it's normal.

As someone who grew up in an asian household it's just regular to me but i can picture the face Lucifer would make if the first time mc enter Dia's castle they take off their shoes casually or like MC stuffing Beel's mouth with food as if he just didn't swallow the biggest mouthful of udon ever saying "come on Beel you need food, you need strength to play Fangol"

For the nap thing i was thinking about my relatives who take nap on their wooden bad or just the floor during summer (cause its fresh yk). My grandma always said a hard bed is good for the back lol

Anyway no pressure!! Have a nice day and take care !

hi!! yes of course :)

i'm a different flavor of asian but some of the culture overlaps so this was fun to write! haha the amount of times my grandma has urged me to eat more is hard to count. oh and the amount of tea i drank when we went to visit. i'll never forget watching her make the tea because it was a whole experience

i'm half indian and someone actually requested an indian mc so that will be out tomorrow because doing these requests back to back easiest for me!

enjoy <3

Asian Mc

Lucifer

you're ALWAYS on him for the amount of coffee he drinks

you also always make sure he takes a break to eat dinner because he needs to eat in order to continue his work

despite how bothered he might seem sometimes, he really does value what you do for him

plus, you not only keep yourself in line, sometimes you do his brothers for him too. thanks on his behalf!

Mammon

once you grow closer, he's asking you to teach him swear words so he can cuss out lucifer

if you don’t, well, he’ll just pick them up when you swear and hope he can figure out what it means haha

if you want, feed him random words, or even compliments so when lucifer hears them, he'll just be confused haha

despite the fact that he's the demon, maybe you can help him in class

Levi

when he first meets you, he'd not sure what to expect

however he quickly learns you're the best at everything you do

this includes video games and everything of that manner

he's got competition now, but he has no clue how you got so good considering it was probably your first time at all of the games you've tried

Satan

he's impressed by your work ethic and desire to achieve

you got dropped in a totally new environment and instead of struggling to adjust like he predicted, you bounced back almost immediately and were at the top of your class like it was nothing!

he tried to ask you once why you seemed so determine to get the best grade and never asked again after the look you gave him

something the two of you can bond over, though, is tea! he can often be seen with a cup of tea so that's an easy conversation starter between the two of you if not homework instead

Asmo

while initially he thought you two might not get along, you actually do quite well

he's huge on no shoes in the house and especially in his room

after all, he wants to avoid bringing as many outside germs into his room as possible

can and will ask you to teach him how you make your special herbal teas because he hates being sick and genuinely just wants to know

Beel

he falls in love with your rice cooker

rice that easy and that quick? sign him up! if he didn't already love rice you've put him on it

he doesn't think he could ever part with you and your wonderful cooking

even if you do cook the same thing every time it's your turn, he will inhale it because not only is it delicious, but you're an amazing cook

Belphie

even he's impressed by your ability to fall asleep anywhere

at least he's always with his pillow and maybe a blanket but he's seen you just curled up on the porch waiting for someone to get home

but that sighting was rare, because he felt like he always saw you doing something

however he really appreciated all the little things you did for him, such as making his bed

[separatist-apologist]

How do you keep boundaries and find balance around your fandom experience?

I feel so bad saying this bc everyone is so nice but I feel pressure to keep up with and promote mutuals’ work and its starting to burn me out from being able to write

I hear this all the time and maybe this is the depression talking but oh man I want to respond to this.

People write SO. FAST. Can you imagine if I got angry every time one of my mutuals didn't reblog/comment/read one of my fics? I'd have no mutuals, no friends, nothing at all. Like at some point you have to trust your mutuals are actually your friends and they're not going to get upset if you don't hype every project they do.

And if they DO get upset, well...thats a reciprocal relationship built on a foundation of weeds and if it can crumble so easily, were you ever actually friends/mutuals at all? I know this is common in fandom spaces and I talk to people all the time who are like, so-and-so doesn't interact with me anymore since I didn't review/read/WHATEVER their last fic and I'm always like. Couldn't be me.

There are a million fics I'd like to read and a million more I'm 10+ chapters behind on. It's just not possible. And I think about like...me and @ablogofsapphicpanic who has only read the fics I've written FOR her. We talk every single day about everything and nothing at all. Or me and @the-lonelybarricade who spent so much time beta-ing for each other that if you went through our work during that time period, you'd probably find SO much overlap in our phrasing/structuring/whatever else. It was never a conscious decision to stop, just kind of a mutual recognition we were busy with our own things but were supporting the other (loudly!) from the sidelines.

My POINT is that this is your hobby! And of course engagement is important- we should hype up our mutuals whenever possible, and read their excellent work because we like what they do. And I think its okay to free yourself from the pressure of trying to do ALL of it, all of the time.

[sinning-23]

Can we have a first kiss scenario with bertholdt and whoever else you want, thanks

OF COURSEEE! HERES PT 2 of the my first kiss headcannons!

Ps. Sorry this took so long I had to rewrite a part after it got deleted and it made my UPSETTI

Bertholdt

Your first kiss was in secret. You had been dating the tall and quiet brunette for a while and after dinner in the dinning hall you two had decided to walk for a bit together. He was a hel of a whole lot taller than you so when you did finally kiss he was bent down to meet your lips. He’s quick to have a grip around the back of your neck as the kiss manages to deepen. Times like these the height difference is a nuisance, so he doesn’t hesitate to pull you up a bit more while you stand on your tiptoes.

His face is beet red and you can’t help but laugh.

“Did you want to walk jsut so you could kiss me away from everyone?” You ask, your hand overlapping his, which was still on your neck.

His blush darkens. Guilty

"I-I just dont like the idea of everyone see us do that. I get teased you know." He admits as you chuckle, pressing another kiss to his lips and soon his cheek, and finally all over his face.

Levi

It was an accident. You had only done it out of reflex. Everyone deserved forehead kisses before a good night rest. Thats just like- science (Hanji strongly disagrees that it’s science)

Anyway, yo u had been up finishing paperwork with one another and he had slipped into a nap, his head was rested against his hand and he would sometimes fall forward, startling himself awake. This time however, he hadn’t dropped his head at all, and his breathing had become far deeper.

A smile falls over your lips and you stupidly pressed your lips to the captains temple.

He shoots awake, glaring at you as if you were spontaneously combusting.

“Did you just kiss my forehead l/n?

You are free, trying to find a way to explain yourself without coming across as a complete and utter fool.

"I-I...Captain, I apologize. It was out of habit." You gulp, seeing him furrow his brows a bit before resting his head completely don't he desk.

"Uh-huh. Dismissed l/n."

Erwin

It wasn’t common knowledge that Erwin was a married man, but even though you were somewhat secret, you relished in being his lifelong partner. You first kiss was actually at the wedding.

It was the tiniest ceremony, only some of Erwin’s closest colleagues and friends. He said a few words, the whole scene feeling as if you two eloped more than got married.

PDA wasnt particualart something Erwin favored and given both of your current positions it was wise to keep your relationship hidden, especially when Erwin had plant y targets on his back. The last thing he wanted was for harmt o come to you.

On the day of your 'ceremony' You decided that you should at least be out of uniform and dressed nicely with one of your favorite shirts and pants. Ernwin had done the same and here you were standing in front of one another.

He doesnr speak whwn he slips teh ring onto your finger, he only lingers there, his eyes fxated on the band now secure on your body. Like some form of ownership. it was odd but somewhat comforting? It would have relieved him far more if he had know you'd felt the same that day. whe you slipped the metal loop onto his had in return.

"I suppose this makes me your wife now." You hum, hand creeping up to child his face. He's exhausted, but so are you. Taking a chance eon love in this world was a risk but one he was open to talking with you.

"I suppose so." He responds, his lips pressing to yours in a sweet, and sealing kiss.

Hanji

Hanji was chaotic to say the least, but that was all the more reason to love them. On this particularly hot summer evening, There was much work to be done while they filed the reports from their experiments. You on the other hand simply sat pretty atop the center while they paced back and forth between stored specimens and paper to scribble on.

You'd quite fond of them, sticking around at hours of the night to listen to ramblings about titans and new discoveries. Of course, you hadn't told them that seeing as you were supposed to remain professional and a crush on your superior was far from that. Anyway, Hanji had asked is you seen this super important vial they needed and lo and behold it was behind you.

So, like any sensible person would, you grabbed it and handed it to them with a soft smile.

“AH! I could just kiss you!” Hanji cheers, holding your face before pressing the silliest, most comical kiss to your forehead before strutting out the lab to complete whatever new task was at the forefront of their mind.

Miche

It wasn’t your first kiss…but your last. Apparently there had been a breach in the wall and now you were tasked with evacuating near by villages. Miche, was talked with the obvious titan issue and your stomach dropped to the soles of your feet. You didn’t doubt your husband’s capabilities, no. He was highly skilled, but your intuition was harder ever wrong…and something bad was bound to happen if you two split up right now. Your panicking, hands shaking in the handles of your swords, the situations options limited.

You fight the oncoming panic and move to the roof he was currently standing on. He turns to face you, the look nothing short of confused and slight anger.

“You need to go. Now.” He speaks, more of an order than anything excised god knows if he’s show you jsut how wallet your panicked state effected him, he’s follow you in a heartbeat.

“I won’t say everything will be okay-“

“When you come back everything will be okay.” You explain, voice shaking. It breaks his heart

You can feel your eyes burn, tough he was skilled, you felt as if there was no fighting the feeling of impending doom.

You press your lips to his, your faces melting together like two puzzle pieces. How facial hair is scratching your face but you would have it any other way.

His face is tinted afterwards, and his lips purse as if he wished to say something. It was easy to see what it was so you said it instead.

Love is such a funny and cruel thing in this life

[deanmarywinchester]

okay too-earnest longpost about erotica below the cut. everyone look away

this has definitely been said before i just needed to articulate my thoughts on it but. the operative fantasy of a huge percentage of explicit fic isn’t falling in love, or specific kinks, it’s “a novel sexual experience, that I don’t have to negotiate or ask for, that completely turns my brain off (and kinks on/undoes my deep-seated psychological issues) in a way I didn’t previously know I needed.” from my limited experience with romance novels there’s some overlap but some stuff here feels specific to fic. and obviously this is a huge generalization, caveat that it applies /in general/ to the more popular fics in the mostly-genre fiction fandoms ive been part of in the last ten years, etc etc. Okay.

there’s a lot I could raise as examples here but one is this specific ofmd fic (for all ofmd created one of the most embarrassing fandoms ever it also brought some of the most talented and deranged fic writers out of the woodwork). in it, Izzy Hands, mr. pain kink dogmotif himself, stops pining for his boss Ed to care about him long enough to have mindbogglingly unsafe sex with a certain pirate from a different tv show, which makes ed crazy enough to give izzy what he actually wanted. and I have no actionable desire to be kept at knifepoint and bitten bloody but this fic is still blisteringly hot because 1) it’s a fantasy of someone immediately and unspokenly clocking what gets you off (in a way nobody, maybe even you, has before) and 2) it gets at izzy’s issues re: nobody liking him enough to claim him and the fact that he desires pain as a proxy for that kind of claiming

and I feel like this is why the “it was nothing like kissing a woman—women were Soft and Feminine while kissing Guy McMan was like Sandpaper and Whiskey” thing that we all make fun of now was an extant trope — it’s the misogyny, yes, but it’s also the novelty, the “i never knew I wanted this before but knowing that I want it has fixed me.” as a supernatural fandom scholar I can use the fandom popularity of rhonda hurley’s, uh, contribution to dean winchester’s psyche as another example here. and as a throuple scholar this is also the power behind leverage’s Hardison/Parker/for-the-first-time Eliot fic, and challengers “any two of us are at each others’ throats but add the third and for the first time I feel completely understood” fic. novelty! someone knowing you in a way you don’t have to ask for or explain to them! with your dick out!

and the second part of the phrase, “a novel sexual experience that kinks on/undoes your psychological issues” is also a big part of the fantasy, like. this is why it’s fun for people to start a new piece of media and point a “praise kink” beam at the guy who’s never felt good enough, or hit characters who grew up under oppressive institutional authority with hammers the cat o’nine tails.

and marinating in this soup does funny things to your sexual development. as a longtime fic reader you might not end up with a forcefem kink but instead a “watching The Character realizing they have a forcefem kink” kink. I don’t have a thing for pain, I have a thing for “being in someone else’s brain as they experience pain as sexual for the first time and get an endorphin high.” much different disorders that can come from getting your sex ed from worse places than extremely online writers but disorders nonetheless

[kaelidascope]

Fandom and LGBTQ Hostility and My Experiences Trying to Exist in Both Spaces Online

I came into these spaces with a very strict rule that I would not react or do anything cancel-worthy out of an overabundance of caution. Digital footprints are dangerous. The things you say online will follow you around forever. I know that first hand. I’ve bottled up and stayed silent about a lot of things I’ve either witnessed first-hand or experienced because I was trying to maintain a clean online persona. I’m not an ‘airing out dirty laundry’ type person. 

In light of recent events however, it’s gotten so bad that I can no longer sit here and not say something about how I feel. I’m disappointed and frustrated with the experiences I’ve had both in fandom and LGBTQ+ spaces and I can’t be complacent. I’m tired of getting treated like this, I’m fed up and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I feel it’s important I voice what I’ve been watching and what’s happened and how I’m not going to tolerate it anymore by calling it out first hand. 

This is a two-topic rant. They overlap in some instances, but it directly has to do with how fandoms behave in general towards each other on Twitter and Tumblr, and also how absolutely hostile LGBTQ+ individuals are nowadays to each other on the same platforms. 

I come from a different generation and a different social media platform. I wasn’t on Twitter and Tumblr until last year. I’m not dismissing the fact that I may have missed out on decades worth of culture and social expectation. The places where I come from aren’t exactly fantastic either, but at least here, more queer people are interacting with each other with shared interests much more widely than in places like DeviantArt. The amount of culture and information I’ve absorbed in one year is more than I ever had within the past twenty years. It should be a good thing, and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t. 

This is not the way I wanted to come out online to anyone. I’ve been figuring out where I sit on the gender and sexuality spectrum for a while now. I will not document a specific timeline for anyone because that’s nobody’s business but my own. Within the last year, I took a massive stride forward in exploring things I legally didn’t think I was allowed to. I expected backlash from cishets and the usual thing I see LGBTQ+ folks write essays over, about how the world hates us, but at least we have each other. Shockingly, the backlash didn’t come from straight people. It came from other queers. 

I am 27 years old and I am entirely self-sufficient. I’m mixed Puerto Rican living in a red state. English wasn’t even my first language. I don’t have a network, so I’m teaching myself these things. I'm asking questions. I'm reading materials and expressions of self-experience and self-identity through fanworks and other autobiographical content. I'm actively trying to seek community and support through transgender and non-binary individuals with shared interests and so far all I've been met with is hostility and assumptions. So much so that I've now been made to feel like I'm on a timeline to figure it out so I can have a well-practiced, short introduction to copy and paste to every person who comes across me. And the only reason I even need one is so that they can make the decision to pass judgement over whether or not I'm allowed to speak, write, draw, wear, act, breathe the things I do. I'm disappointed. I'm anxious. I honestly feel more shoved into the closet now than I ever did before and I shouldn't be. Nobody should be treated this way when trying to figure out who they are. I probably won't even get an apology for the things that were said to me, either. I pride myself on the extraordinary caution I take to be politically correct, vetted through reputable sources, and as close to authentic as possible. And yet somehow I’m still getting called things like terf, transmisogynistic, triggering, when I’m fucking trans myself and all of my content gets vetted/REQUESTED by trans individuals. I get promised up and down that people are kind and welcoming in these sorts of spaces and honey, they aren’t. The people you choose to be friends with aren't as inclusive and friendly as you think they are. You don’t even know me and what body parts I have. The fact that you need to know in order to decide whether or not to treat me with respect is telling of an internal issue that has nothing to do with me. 

I have no reference point. I live in a place where laws ban anything gender and trans. I have no local resources or community. I've barely met any LGBTQ people in person. If I have, they never came out publicly. Most of my queer exposure has been online, and the fact that I've seen nothing but angry, mean, exclusive and discriminating behavior without any sort of reasoning why other than selfish defensiveness, I don't know where else I'm supposed to go for support. Something a lot of you guys need to take into retrospect is anyone who identifies as LGBTQ gets shot where I live. We have sundown towns here. If you don’t even know what that is, good, but also that’s telling of your privilege that you need to consider when talking to others not from blue states. I didn’t grow up in an environment where we had these highly liberal culture points and the word ‘gay’ was never allowed to be said out loud. We did not have gay clubs in school. I'm about as fucking late to this as you possibly can get. The only reason I know anything about our history, representation, and barely anything about what's socially acceptable and what's not, is because of the internet. So many of you had the privilege of being exposed to this information as young as under the age of 10. I didn’t. Sue me for not immediately knowing what every gender label means right off the bat. Half that stuff isn’t even legal here. 

I can't believe it's boiled down to the fact that I have to somehow justify my existence on this Earth and give an explanation that fits into predetermined boxes just to do anything to engage with other people. I have no time or space to figure it out. I’m disorganized and overwhelmed because I can’t ask questions about ‘can butches do this?’ ‘How versatile is transmasc/transfem?’ ‘Am I more genderqueer or do I fit under the trans umbrella?’ Gender and identity is fluid and ever changing. I have actually seen people harp and attack individuals for "defaulting" or "detransitioning" when they change their mind after giving this big coming out speech. It’s like support on these platforms is entirely conditional and a one-time thing. Y'all really expect people to wear the first style of shirt they buy for the rest of their life? Are we not allowed to do anything unless we know for sure? How’s college working out for you, for those who believe this mindset?

The vocally aggressive ones who use big words that contradict their statements can do, say, and be whatever they want.  But people like me can't. The ones who have to straight pass in public to keep their jobs and maintain their life safely. Some of us have been on our own since 19 with no family support. Consider the environment someone lives in before assigning your harsh assumptions. I can’t just change myself on a whim without doing significant damage control. Half the jobs I work for don’t even allow unnatural hair colors. If we list our pronouns as anything other than our assigned sex at birth, it causes legality issues with taxes. The way I have to navigate how to explore my identity and also keep a roof over my head and my bills paid may seem highly conservative to most. It’s in no way shape or form meant to reflect disrespect on how others live and express themselves. I am doing the best with the environment I have. The way I do things is not meant to be read as a message of ‘you’re doing it wrong because you’re not doing it the way I do.’ None of us are wrong. That should not be the subliminal message here. 

You know someone actually challenged me on that? Saying I was being harmful for purposefully straight presenting in public? Please research your country and state specific laws before you say that to me. If I could afford to live somewhere safer and queer-friendly, this conversation would be different. I am working on getting the fuck out of this state. But I don’t have a partner or parents money to default on. I’m doing this by myself. It’s not impossible, just a slow process. 

I'm disappointed and fed up. I've reached my limit, and I don't really care anymore if someone uses this essay to try and cancel me 5 or 10 years from now when the world goes through another gender renaissance of terms and identities. I will not put up with being treated like this when you refuse to listen to anyone else other than the sound of your own voice. I’m trying my best to learn, adapt, and express myself. I do not need to be lectured or be called derogatory things just because you think I’m coming from a malicious place.  

It’s not just about the hostility and gate-keeping behavior exhibited in online queer spaces. The same exact thing happens in fandom spaces too. People get pissy about queer headcanons and presentations so much to the point of taking it upon themselves to police the fandom and scrub it clean of “impurities.” I’ve watched y’all go through people's social media pages for any type of ammunition for justification of a personal grievance. It shocks me how much hyperfixation gets put on specific and morally harmless things when there are people out there writing diabolical shit way worse than what I have to offer. And y’all happily support them too but bark at me about what I make cus that author fits your social criteria and you assumed I didn’t. Don't think I'm ignorant to every single scrap of hate mail and harassment I've gotten over the past year and a half in my inboxes. Including the passive aggressive posts about my work, vague tweets, and discussions about me in discord servers. Over what? Have you actually read my work? If it’s actually as problematic as you say it is, provide me with a modern and unbiased example why this particular scene and execution is harmful. And not because you got triggered or disliked the kink, or read the summary/tags and assumed it was something it’s not. I don’t know how much more caution tape, massive warnings, obvious clear-cut tags (that were provided to me by queer individuals to PUT on there in the first place) out of insane amounts of caution I can do. I have always been willing to provide spoilers and explicit details in case someone is unsure how they’ll be affected by something I make. If you already don’t like it based on my warnings, that’s always been more than okay! My work is not for everyone. I’m getting tired of politely and respectfully saying please move on, because the message seems to be getting lost in translation. So let me be clear; 

Get off my pages if you don’t like what I make. It’s not for you. It will never be for you. Dead dove. DO NOT EAT. PREFERRED DEMOGRAPHIC 25+ ADULT CONTENT RATED E FOR EXPLICIT. I can recommend so many other fantastic creators with better suited content for you! If I could hide my content behind a roped off section deliberately keeping you from seeing it, I would. BLOCK ME. 

If your response to this section is ‘well then just don’t write it’. Honey, there’s people out here in the RWBY fandom writing trans incest actively commenting on all your shit and you respond back. A magic grimm-goo strap and monster smut featuring a transfem character (again, requested by literally 3 trans people and WRITTEN by one) should be the least of your worries. 

I have actively chosen not to address the harassment and hate mail, because it's sad that half of you hate me so much you need to make a point of telling me so regularly. I sincerely hope moving on with your lives will grant you peace of mind. Truly.

This is why I barely interact with anyone. Nothing but hostility, harassment, and expectation to behave in ways I cannot emotionally commit to. I am exhausted, uninspired, and have such a bad taste in my mouth it's proving extremely difficult to want to do anything creative. It’s been worse with my recent exploration of my gender identity. Opening one door to write about certain things somehow, miraculously, closes ones I previously existed in. I’m practically getting kicked out if I’m not 100% one way or another. I don’t go out of my way to shove my content down your throats. Why you feel the need to come to me and tell me you dislike my existence because you read it, despite me stating this is not for everyone and probably not for you, doesn’t have anything to do with me. Idk what else I can do. Disappear off the face of the planet, I guess. That seems to be what the overall solution is when y’all find something you don’t like. I can't believe I witnessed grown adults in their mid twenties with self-proclaimed senses of rightness start a trend on Twitter to go through people's mutuals and their likes to see if they’re socially acceptable in Fandom spaces or not. That was fucking ridiculous. And especially not fair to those who had their private accounts leaked and put on blast when it was already behind an vetted follower wall. Believe it or not, people draw weird, lewd, diabolical shit. They’re actually being responsible by putting it behind a paywall, or some type of ‘proof of age before following’ requirement. It falls on the people who go on there, take screenshots, and post them publicly for minors and non-consenting individuals to see without filters what was previously hidden. It’s irresponsible and immature. 

For fear of getting canceled by the Fandom, I moved all 600+ accounts I was following onto a private alt. I don't interact with my main anymore. I went so far into hiding and didn’t dare share anything about liking content made by people I wasn’t allowed to like, because that’s how cruel it is out here. It's honestly stupid I even felt like I had to do that. For what? People glazed over the brief moment of drama within a few weeks and went right back to posting the same shit they always have. They find new things to gossip about on their privs. New enemies to cancel on Twitter. New things to deem problematic and attack. 

I will be heard with this letter. I don’t care to be associated with anyone who treats people like this. I don’t believe in it, I won’t support it, and I’d rather have a small circle of people who won’t be rude or attack other people for existing. I’m not going to sit here and take the abuse any longer. Leave me in peace. There is no reason any of this should be happening. 

This is not meant to undermine the support I have gotten from the few who know what I'm going through and have given me the space to figure it out. I appreciate every question answered and insight provided as much as your abilities allow. I'm so grateful for it. I just wish it wasn't 2 people while everyone else is an asshole.

[bettsfic]

Have you written about kicking your phone addiction? I'm half way there but I'm interested in hearing other people's experience.

i have! but as always it's a long, meandering post of self-reflection and egregious declaration that basically boils down to: remove your phone's positive reinforcement and replace it with different positive reinforcement. (the post is more about social media than phone usage, but there's a lot of overlap.)

relevant excerpt:

the thing about getting away from social media is that it’s slow. i don’t think you can really go cold turkey. when i got home from the residency, i went on a long hiatus and had all these strict rules for myself about when i was allowed to look at my phone and when i wasn’t, but that didn’t really work for me. but i did delete all the social media apps from my phone, and on my computer i logged out of all of them and deleted my saved passwords, so if i wanted to check them, i had to go to that extra step of logging in and even typing in my password. and that doesn’t seem like a lot, but when you’re checking social media out of habit, muscle memory, something to attend to that might give you a brief blip of dopamine, having to type your password is just one step too far. the brief pleasure i would get from checking my notifications was less than the hassle of logging in. and that’s what it all comes down to: feeling good. in the moment, it feels good to check a social media app, to see that somebody has interacted with your content or maybe with you directly. it’s that tiny subconscious exclamation point, the feeling we get when somebody politely smiles or waves at us, when a dog comes up to us wagging his tail, when a well-meaning stranger compliments your outfit. that’s the social part of social media. but that’s also the part that keeps us cycling through our apps out of habit and boredom. so you have to take away that stimulus from yourself, and you have to create positive stimuli elsewhere. to take away the positive stimulus of social media, you have to stop posting content on it. content is the mind killer. when you tweet something, your impulse might be to check that someone has interacted with it. but if you step away from the great conversation of social media, nobody speaks back to you, and you develop more patience for the longer-term good feelings of reading a book.

one year update to this post:

i intended to share a screencap of my average daily phone use, which is around ~30 minutes, but uh. i don't remember where i put my phone.

my mentality has continued to be "replace glowing screens with sensory/tactile satisfaction" and that's worked really well for me. so well that i wrote a newsletter about it last month.

[another-lost-mc]

On the subject of your latest world building post: fallen angels…

Can we talk about what happened when Azra fell? (If we wanna chat AU - Meta as well POOR SWEET BABY META) And how when the brothers fell it impacted Azra’s relationship with Lucifer (especially where it concerns Meta if we’re talking AU)? We got so much to unpack here with the fallen angel OCs. 😭😭

Firstly, I love exploring fallen angel lore because it's like the perfect way to view all sides and history of the Celestial Realm and Devildom. They're perfect if you want to explore the perspective of someone that has lived in both realms and who loves and hates them for different reasons.

We got a peek at old timey Devildom history when we got to see how the realm reacted after Lucifer and his siblings fell. The problem is that the game doesn't really go into a lot of detail exploring the history before that happened, and some of those new additions to the story weren't explored in much detail. That means I have a lot of gaps to fill with my own world building while I cherry pick the stuff from Nightbringer that makes sense and disregard the stuff that doesn't fit.

The fact that angels and demons have insanely long life spans also means that social norms and attitudes probably shifted over time. "Older" fallen angels and "newer" ones (like the demon brothers) would have completely different experiences that shape their perspective. We got to see the Devildom through the eyes of Lucifer and the others as they adjusted to life as demons - we have no idea how other fallen angels managed to cope with their own personal hardships or trauma from the fall. In general, I think most fallen angels (that survived the fall) think the demon brothers had it easy.

Anyway, to explain why that's the case, I should probably explain some of the fundamentals. I don't think the demon brothers were the first angels to be cast out to the Devildom, and I don't think they were the last. I do think that Diavolo being in charge shifted the realm's attitudes and treatment of fallen angels to some extent, but angels who fell before that time were at a clear disadvantage.

(Some of the discussion below contains vague references to violence/blood and other demon-typical behaviours.)

The Devildom was far from welcoming. Why would it be? It felt less like a mutual agreement that the Devildom would give fallen angels a home and more like Father ruthlessly discarding his disgraced angels to a place that didn't want them either. not me comparing it to Dumbledore abandoning baby Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep and ignoring the years of abuse and neglect that followed as the boy was clearly unwanted For world building purposes, Purgatory isn't the realm that separates the human world from the Devildom, but the realm that separates the Devildom from the Celestial Realm. Falling isn't stepping through a portal and being greeted safely at the Demon Lord's Castle, it's plunging through a no-man's-land plane of existence, the metaphysical barrier that's supposed to keep the two realms apart, and crash-landing at some random location with no promise of survival (or safety should they live that long).

Before I get to that, I should probably clarify how the various OC stories overlap and connect to each other. Even though I originally wrote most of them so they could be independent characters in their own version of the OM narrative, they all have the potential to coexist in the same world. While some of them know each other personally because of their shared history, some of them don't - but the potential for them to live in the same universe is there, because I've tried to write the missing lore for the Devildom in a consistent way for all of them. They all do things that directly or indirectly affect each other and don't even realize it.

I probably need to do a timeline/order of events in another post but to give you an idea of how their stories intersect:

Azra, as my first OC, has the most connections to other characters. A lot of the world building relates in some way to his experiences living as an angel in the Celestial Realm and his life as a demon in the Devildom. The angel OCs (Metatron, Seraphiel, Gabriel, Uriel, Habuhiah) and the demons Belial and Zekhan are all important to his backstory, and in a small way, he also interacts with the Demon King.

Belial, who would become one of the most powerful demon lords, has directly and indirectly shaped a lot of the past Devildom history and continues to influence the realm's social structure and economic sectors. At one point during the Demon King's rule, Belial is responsible for creating conflict with the Celestial Realm and shortly after, Azra falls. However, the outcome of his interference has direct consequences that affect Tenebris' own story as well.

Tenebris and Bathin's history share the most overlap and influence. It's mostly told from Tenebris' perspective because Bathin is...well, he's dead for most of it. But his death is an important part of that history (and Mephisto's own character/story, especially once Bathin is reborn later on).

A lot of the events leading up to the demon brothers' fall is overseen by the Demon King, Diavolo's father. Tenebris and Belial have the most direct, personal interaction with him above all the other OCs, but it's actually through the Demon King's eyes that the shared history across nearly all the OCs is consistent. The last part of the story I had to flesh out was how Diavolo came into power and why the Demon King appointed the Avatars of Sin, an act of such significance that practically all of the Devildom (including the different OCs) were affected by it.

I've talked about Azra's backstory in detail now (a very brief TL;DR version of it is on his biography page) but I should probably explain Belial's history a bit too. Even though he and Azra have some similar opinions about Diavolo and the demon brothers, their experiences as newly-fallen angels were wildly different and that affects their opinions later on.

BELIAL

Belial wasn't the first angel to fall, but he's one of the oldest. He's also one of the first ones to make waves in the Devildom considering how ruthless he would later become. He wasn't too badly injured after the fall, all things considered - if you ignore the missing wings - but he was furious when he realized what happened.

I've mentioned how previous demon rulers had their own eccentricities and way of governing things. Some of them were fueled by the chaotic nature of their sins and the realm had periods of unrest and instability because of it. Unhinged rulers encouraged or even participated in things like "hunting" fallen angels for sport, for no other reason than their existence and misery were fun to exploit.

Anyway, Belial fell during a time when that sort of thing was accepted. Angels falling to the Devildom were visible to the naked eye, like a comet plummeting from the sky. Observant demons simply had to travel in that direction. Part of the fun was catching disoriented or wounded angels off-guard. Belial was found by one of those hunting parties but he still had his wits about him, and thankfully he was armed when he was cast out. Most angels aren't given a chance to pack their things when they're forced to leave and whatever they have with them - their clothes, maybe some weapons if they're lucky - is all they're left with. Belial's worst crime, aside from his last explosive argument with Michael, was being a powerful warrior that was too arrogant and prideful for his own good. The demons that found him never stood a chance. Belial made a mockery of them all by pledging his loyalty to the Devildom's ruler at the time. He offered the heads of his slain would-be murderers and grinned manically as their blood stained the throne room floor. He was able to walk away despite the insult because keeping him alive proved to be more entertaining than killing him outright.

That's how Belial got his start. After earning his initial windfall - inherited from the first demons he defeated - he set on a reckless path of overthrowing weaker demon lords than himself and creating an unbreakable foothold in the realm. Stories of his deeds were still exaggerated beyond imagination and he had a reputation for being bloodthirsty, power-hungry, and insane. He was considered aggressive and wildly unpredictable, but that's only partly true: he hides his intelligence and manipulations behind the guise of being chaos incarnate. He became a demon lord that was respected and feared almost in equal measure, and that's why it was important for the Demon King (and Diavolo to a lesser extent) to manage his temperamental behaviour while ensuring he remained loyal and kept his legions in line.

AZRA (and META's AU)

Azra falls partly because Belial is a manipulative bastard. Unlike most fallen angels that are alone and left to survive on their own in the Devildom, Azra has the unique advantage of having Belial's assistance. Even though their relationship is tense at first (since Belial wanted Azra to fall and worked hard to make that happen) it's still beneficial for both of them in the long run. It's ironic that Azra and Lucifer share that parallel that they're both protected by a powerful demon benefactor where most other fallen angels struggle without one.

Still, Azra faces a lot of hardships that the demon brothers can't relate to. Even though Belial helps Azra, that help isn't free - he wants something in return, and with nothing else to do but to try and make a name for himself, Azra feels obligated to obey him. Meeting Zekhan makes it easier for Azra to forge an independent life so he doesn't have to work for Belial long-term. Azra works hard to quickly stake a claim in the Devildom for himself. It's no surprise that the fallen angels like him, who were literally stripped of their former identities and forced to start new lives in such a hostile place, would want to gain enough power and security so that their lives can never be broken like that again. Azra's goal isn't fame or wealth, it's the power to ensure his own survival and live the life he wants.

In the AU where Metatron falls with Azra, their beginnings in the Devildom are very similar to Azra's story where he falls alone. However, Azra's motivations shift slightly because he has Metatron to care for, and despite his best intentions, things aren't easy for them even if they're in the Devildom together.

Meta's experience as a demon is also significantly different from Azra's. Where Azra is a rising socialite and quickly gaining popularity after opening The Fall, Meta's presence is much smaller, almost to the point where most demons don't know (or forget) that he even exists. It's almost a complete role reversal from their lives as angels where Metatron was popular and one of the most powerful Seraphs and Azra was just an ordinary angel in comparison.

Azra's reputation and social standing in the Devildom does protect him from some criticism and anti-angel sentiment that still exists, but unfortunately, Meta faces a lot more ridicule and criticism. He's treated almost like a leper because he struggles to blend in and play the part of a "real" demon - there's still something Celestial about him that rubs a lot of demons the wrong way at first. The fact that he was a Seraph doesn't help much. Azra fails to notice this and it's actually Solomon's appearance in both their lives that causes things to change, for better and for worse. The next shake-up for the status quo doesn't happen until they learn about the demon brothers coming to the Devildom, and that causes a lot of new problems for both of them.

WHEN LUCIFER FALLS

Nightbringer gave us an idea of what it was like in the Devildom in the aftermath of Lucifer and his siblings being cast out. A lot of uneasiness, a lot of prejudice, and they were protected by Diavolo who took them into his personal care and helped them acclimate to their new lives as demons.

Angels that fell before them have a lot of complicated feelings on the matter, some of which aren't positive. Some of them are downright hostile because of it. From their perspectives:

Lucifer is a hypocrite. He probably helped condemn a lot of them personally. None of them were worth the fight to save, until it came to one of his siblings, and he was willing to start civil war to defend Lilith from persecution.

Related to that, a harsh but unspoken feeling amongst fallen angels: Lilith knew the rules and broke them and should've accepted the consequences like they all had to. Nothing made her more special or deserving of another chance, except that one of her brothers just happened to be Lucifer who seemed willing to bend the rules when it affected someone close to him.

The demon brothers had an easier time after the fall because of the Demon King's actions and Diavolo's interest in them. They all suffered injury and trauma from the fall. They all lost their home, they all lost someone or something they loved. That shared pain is universal, but the demon brothers were coddled through it.

Some of the demon brothers didn't deserve the power the Demon King bestowed upon them. While Lucifer, Mammon and Beel were uniquely powerful in their own right, the fact that the other less powerful siblings were elevated to such an extreme rubs some of the fallen angels the wrong way. Part of it is petty jealousy, but they see it as another form of nepotism - their relation to Lucifer gives them an unfair advantage in the Devildom as much as it did in the Celestial Realm.

Belial's mostly baffled by the hypocrisy of it all and pretends (badly) that he's not bitter about it. He was one of the Cherubim before he fell, he wanted to be a Seraph - he was well aware of the formal rules and intricacies and hidden politics involved with governing the Celestial Realm. He also doesn't share a lot of sympathy regarding Lilith's fate either. A lot of his earlier interactions with Lucifer and his brothers are met with condescension and and contempt.

Azra's anger is mostly directed at Lucifer for very personal reasons. As an angel, Azra asked Michael and Lucifer for help (with a situation regarding Metatron) and neither of them did. Michael acted like there was no problem, and Lucifer reinforced that by refusing to get more involved. As far as Azra's concerned, their disregard forced his hand and ultimately led to him falling; seeing Lucifer willing to rally against Michael for his own personal problems feels like a slap in the face.

When Azra and Lucifer meet, a lot of that bitterness comes out. Lucifer sees the sort of demon Azra has become (in order to survive a situation he never wanted), and Azra sees Lucifer as a hypocrite who was willing to risk everything to protect his siblings and couldn't even do that right. So yeah, they're not on great terms.

In the AU where Meta and Azra fall together, some of Azra's bitterness is gone because at least in that story, he and Meta are still together in the Devildom even if their circumstances are...not great. Because Meta's made it more obvious that the Devildom's treatment of fallen angels was sorely lacking in the past, it's implied that Diavolo makes more of an effort to help the demon brothers adapt so they can avoid the same difficulties Azra and Meta experienced themselves.

Another consequence of Lucifer and his brothers coming to the Devildom is the almost instantaneous outrage among some of the demon lords and the legions they command. Many of them had to fight Lucifer or his siblings in previous wars with the Celestial Realm, and some undoubtedly lost friends or loved ones during those conflicts. Having your former enemy and his family being treated like royalty by the newly crowned prince, who is controversial in his own right, created a huge social upheaval. Anti-angel sentiments grew among the demon lords that were upset that the Demon King established the Avatars of Sin and gave them so much power. The lesser demons who were part of the realm's armies were furious that they suddenly had to obey the whims of the naïve prince and his pet angels.

(Diavolo was right to shield the demon brothers within the Demon King's Castle until he could ensure that public tensions had died down and they could live safely on their own. Fallen angels such as Belial and Azra were popular and strong enough that most demons wouldn't dare attack them, even if they insulted them privately. In the AU where he falls too, Meta doesn't walk away from that ordeal unharmed.)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mom to stop singing?

okay so a couple months back i (a uni student) moved out of my old apartment and back in with my parents while i try to find a new one. the only issue is, since i first moved away, my parents had moved into a smaller house than they had when me and my siblings were growing up. they now have their bedroom and my dad's study, but no additional bed or guest rooms. for this reason, i have been sleeping on their living room couch.

my mom also doesn't have a room of her own, so her laptop is also in the living room, as is mine. so basically the living room is our shared domain for the time we spend at home. i have class and friends to spend time with, so i'm away relatively frequently (though i'm on winter break now of course), while my mom is retired and is at home basically 95% of the time year-round.

me and my mom both listen to music a lot and our tastes do not overlap basically at all. i listen mostly to indie, folk, rock, the kind of stuff white queer kids love, while my mom's music is almost entirely soulful christian pop about big j and stuff.

up until recently, my mom didn't wear headphones. she'd play music directly from her laptop speakers. this obviously bothered me somewhat, but i hadn't said anything about it. recently (i.e. a couple weeks ago) i asked her if she'd consider starting to wear headphones, which she has for the most part, though sometimes she forgets. i just kinda let her do whatever if she does, i haven't mentioned it again since.

so that's the first time i asked my mom to be quieter, and i don't think i'm an asshole for that. my worry is about the second time. you see, over the last week, she's taken to singing along to her tunes. maybe she did that before and i just didn't notice over the actual song itself? anyway, i can definitely hear it now.

and of course it's not the best musical performance, it's a lady with little singing experience belting along to her favourite songs, but it's not really about the quality of the singing. i don't like the music she likes and would prefer not to listen to it, is all.

today, whilst she was singing, i gently asked her: "could you stop singing?" i didn't mean forever, just in that moment. i really tried to say it in a nice way, and i don't think i sounded particularly rude? it should be noted, though, that my parents do seem to think of me as some kind of sensitive sally intent on criticizing every little thing they do. that feeling does kind of go both ways, but i admit sometimes i can be harsh on my mom, because she can be overbearing and a bit neurotic, and i don't really get to have the space i wish i could, especially not now when i'm living with them.

anyway, so i ask: "could you stop singing?" and my mom says something like "okay- well, i would prefer not to." the way she said it really made it sound like i had hurt her feelings. so i said, "okay. that's alright. you can sing." she stopped singing and has been sort of running around for the last 10 minutes or so restlessly doing random things.

my parents are that kind of people who are really really deep in "politeness" and genuinely baffle me since i'm autistic (like, a couple of days ago we had some leftover cake, and my dad straight up forced me to take half of what was left over even though i said i didn't want it. i still don't really know why?) so i'm sure even though i said "okay, nevermind then," my mom didn't believe me.

while she was running around doing random things, i told her, "sorry if i hurt your feelings." and she said, "oh, it's nothing." i genuinely don't know if i'm in the wrong here. i feel like, on the one hand, this is a space we have to share, and i should have the right to ask her not to make noise (i always wear headphones and never sing along to music or vc with friends when my parents are around), but on the other hand, it's her house, and she should have the right to sing in it, right? i don't know.

TL;DR: i asked my mom to stop singing in the only space for our computers in the house and i'm pretty sure it upset her. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[intothedysphoria]

Apparently Robin didn’t buy the cholera excuse. Something about “what are you, a fucking Victorian waif?”

Well, considering he was being forced back into the social group he’d had in high school, cholera wasn’t far off.

Carol and Tommy were ok. So was McKinney. And even Byers, from what Steve had heard of him, ignoring the whole dating his ex aspect of it. Munson, Holloway, Carver, nothing Steve couldn’t handle.

Hargrove was a different story, especially after the incident.

The incident Robin would never let him forget, despite his pleas to just fucking drop it, for his own sanity.

The night Steve had, after pretty spectacularly falling off the pool table, propositioned Hargrove for a threesome in a closet then had been looked at with such disdain he just left.

Steve wasn’t real excited to relive that joyous experience. Not when he hadn’t really done anything to redeem himself of that truly horrendous experience in the last five years.

Even just examining Billy’s social media, it was clear how inadequate Steve was. He’d qualified for the world championships for surfing, was funny and had actually retained the friends he’d had in high school. None of those things applied to Steve and the last video he’d uploaded to tiktok was his eating an entire bowl of trifle in under a minute.

When they made it to the quiet, indie cafe on the outskirts of town, Steve found that he’d been assigned a seat next to Hargrove. Clearly he was being punished for some unknown evil.

Steve had been in many awkward situations in his young life, over half in Synagogue because his Rabbi had a habit of wanting to “mix things up.” Nothing had quite come close to sitting next to Hargrove in excruciating silence, both sipping a coffee that had been ordered for, not by them.

Despite the fact that under normal circumstances Steve would rather die than have to look at Hargrove again, he looked so pained by the tension that Steve decided to save him.

“So, how’s Missy doing?”

Missy was Max’s golden lab. She was notably beloved across all overlapping friendship groups, but given that Billy was Max’s older brother, he’d have by far the most time with her.

Hargrove visibly deflated like a helium balloon after being asked a question and happily jumped into a monologue about Missy’s various exploits, primarily shoe related.

Mercifully the incident didn’t get brought up once.

Maybe it was because Robin thought being forced to sit next to Hargrove was pain enough, maybe it was because her friends had simply moved on with what they found funny but the last thing Steve was going to do was look this gift horse in the mouth.

Instead, he found himself becoming increasingly engaged in talking to Billy, who didn’t seem to mind being stuck with him that much. In fact, he was talking up a storm, telling Steve about his surfing career, his mental health after therapy, his favourite Instagram filters. It was a wide range of topics that seemed to truly broach who Billy the man was at twenty three.

Robin didn’t attempt to interject at all. She’d grouped the rest of the group all at one side of the table where they sat like a tableau, occasionally staring at Billy. Waiting for Steve to get punched for a second time, no doubt.

Billy flat out insisted in covering the bill by the time they’d finished and then hung around awkwardly after the rest of the group had started to filter out. Steve, not wanting anyone to be left alone, stuck around.

“Steve can we talk?”

Yes they could talk, despite Steve’s heart rate seemingly doubling from resting.

“About that night” Billy started and Steve prepared himself to run. Maybe to New Zealand. The weather was nice this time of year.

“I wasn’t actually pissed at you”

Now that was unexpected.

“I did really like you but I’m just awkward and my face doesn’t show when I’m happy all the time then you just ran away and I’m really just sorry that I scared you. And that I’m doing a shit job of explaining myself. “

All Steve could really say was “oh.”

He knew he was beaming from ear to ear but he didn’t care.

“Thank you for your apology. And uh, if it’s not obvious I like you back.”

They smiled at each other like dorks for a few seconds before Billy obviously regained his confidence, now smirking.

“So. Dinner?”

Even Steve could pick up those inferences.

They went to Billy’s together, squeezing each other’s hands and Steve let himself feel calm.

For @thissortofsorcery

[sysmedsaresexist]

Hello same Anon from before (https://www.tumblr.com/sysmedsaresexist/772569901323993088/hello-there-im-coming-from-a-place-of-genuine?source=share).

First of all, thank you for the insightful reply, I really appreciate it and im glad I didn't cause much distress or anger there! Altho apologies for my question(s) being a bit unclear.

To reply, I do see your POVs and having read other posts, I def know that there's been issues concerning the treatment of CDD systems by those in the Plural community in the past, and that parts of the community may have harmful believes (such as the whole "Integration = Bad", etc). At the same time I have my own thoughts on a lot of things said, as well as additional questions which I have organized here.

At its core I do disagree with the idea that CDD systems should be excluded from the Plural term. Regardless of origins, any community can change for the better or worse depending on how organized they are and who can, for lack of a better term, "Shepherd" the community. I always saw the term Plural as more of an identity which is usually loosely experience-based compared to how the list of criteria for a diagnosis is usually followed strictly. While I don't think a label should be forced on anyone (and truthfully, the Plural community has nothing to gain by forcing CDD systems to adopt the Plural label), should a CDD system experience themselves in a way that fits the Plural label the all power to them; I feel when it comes to these things, individual comfort and internal narrative is something important to account for. At least with the CDD systems I know, that sense of community is very comforting; I guess the way I see it, being on the Autism Spectrum, I don't relate to those with other mental health conditions, but we do find commonality in the sense of being neurodiverse.

Elaborating on what I brought up at the start of the last bullet point, I do partly believe that a lot of the issues found in the Plural community are the result of disorganization, infighting, and many sides trying to prove their own validity and not communicating well; this is def something both sides are guilty of. For instance, a lot of what TPA says is harmful for CDD systems from what you've said, I won't deny this, but its hard to fight against it when for a long while its been the only resource validating Endo systems, as such its... bound to make various defensive. While a Plural community may not be able to provide the trauma recovery or healing space that CDD systems can get from a dedicated DID community, I see no reason that outside of recovery a CDD system can't be part of the Plural community if they want to, and in turn the Plural community as a whole can adapt to acknowledge the intrinsic differences in how CDD systems function?

Furthermore, wouldn't separating communities create an echo chamber? Realistically speaking, we are past the point that this separation can happen without having either side have some knowledge of the other. I feel such separation may result in the revival of the whole "Natural Systems" thing from back then. This in turn, can lead to harm if a system within the Plural community were to discovery they are in fact a CDD system (For some the comfort of having that community there is what helps them discover they are a system; and in turn later discover they are in fact CDD).

I hope im not bothering too much with these, im just not sure what to think.

I'd certainly love to discuss things more but gotta remain anonymous, dunno if there's any other way to reach out let alone if you'd be comfortable with that... ^^;

Before we get into this one, which is very likely to turn into a bit of rant-- not at you, in general, I'm very passionate, I need to reiterate-- these experiences DO overlap. My intention with the last post wasn't to gatekeep the term or experience because there are people who like and appreciate the term plural and the EXPERIENCE it stands for.

Dropping in a cut here just because of the length.

To summarize very quickly, I think brain scans will be the deciding factor in this one. CDDs come with very specific trauma-related biomarkers. In MY opinion, this is where the inherent differences in CDD and plural come into play. I say this little blurb frequently.

These "injuries" to the brain affect the way we perceive and relate to the world. They affect the way we think, not only in relation to ourselves, but to others. It changes the way we interact with, hold, and access memories and emotions. It's tied to inherent triggers, behaviors, and how we react to people and things around us. These injuries never go away. We can re-learn healthier habits and train ourselves to path new neurological processes, but the brain is forever altered. We will always have a CDD.

There are things that I believe endogenic systems don't experience. If they ARE struggling with amnesia and volatile reactions to triggers, it's potentially smart to take a second look at CDDs, BEARING IN MIND, that treatment for PTSD is different than CPTSD, and figuring out which you're dealing with is very important. You can have PTSD without a CDD. People seem to forget this.

This is where we really get into the anti/pro stuff, and I'm DESPERATE to hear more experiences and thoughts. My most recent post asking for replies was about this topic-- the overlap of self-determination and labeling vs a physical reality in the form of scans. The use of MRI to help in the diagnosis of CDDs may never be mainstream, but it seems likely that it'll be utilized one day. How will this affect the syscourse landscape, and what will antis do when the proof is in front of them?

Because I DO expect we'll see differences in these presentations-- plural vs CDD.

How will this kind of thing affect the interactions of the communities? What about those who label one way and appear another on scans?

This is INCREDIBLY fascinating to me.

This stance does not discount the existence or possibility of endogenic systems.

The Stanford Tulpa Studies have already shown that the brain can be trained to act independently alongside its host, theories on consciousness grew right alongside Freud's and Janet's trauma focused theories, people have been describing multiplicity in nonpathological ways for centuries under various names, endogenic and plural just being the newest ones.

This stance only seeks to investigate those differences and correct misinformation on CDDs.

Point blank.

But to me, the plural vs. CDD divide may be the hot ticket everyone is looking for. Antis really just want a division in language, so these experiences are notably different for new people coming into the communities. The biggest fears antis have TYPICALLY have to do with vulnerable, young CDD systems falling into plural spaces and causing more harm for themselves. This happens. A lot, honestly.

In my opinion, by presenting plural and CDD as different experiences, we can make it easier for those struggling with their multiplicity to figure out where to go for help.

A divide in language doesn't call for a divide in spaces, and I didn't clarify that in the last post. I HAVE a mixed origin space with people that I respect and adore that have helped me become a better person. These shared spaces have value and benefit, so long as differences are acknowledged. My friends accept and understand that I don't relate to "plural" at all, but I equally respect their experiences, and we use the language that's comfortable for each other. These things don't need to cause arguments or fights.

This is a really watered-down explanation, like I could ramble on and on, but I hope that kind of gives a bit of a glimpse into my thinking?

So, let's push on and get into a history lesson.

Now that I've clarified that I don't mind plural for those use who want to use it, let's get into why I REALLY hate it.

Speaking of, to pause here, if you come off anon, I won't post it, but I'll reach out from my main if you want to talk more and we can go from there! The option is there, if you'd like, or we can just continue in asks if you want to carry on :) You seem very knowledgeable, so there's a big chance you're already aware of a lot of what I'm going to say now, so what I'm about to get into is for everyone, and maybe you, maybe not, let's see!

HISTORY TIME

Plural was coined specifically to be an anti psych alternative. Plural was the word used to get away from multiple, which was seen as too similar to MPD. It's a word based in anti psych rhetoric because its entire purpose was to get away from psychiatry by choosing a word about grammar instead to describe their nondisordered experiences. Here's the coining post.

I have a hard time understanding why any CDD system would want to use it, and it's incredibly frustrating to see anti endos co-opt the term as their own and then demand endogenic systems make a new one. They did that. It's plural.

They did the thing antis wanted. Of course, it's not good enough, but they did.

System is such a vague, overused word that no one has a claim to it. Let everyone be systems, and let plural and CDD be that dividing line.

Again, I don't get it, but I do. CDD systems can relate heavily to the plural experience and what it stands for, and while I want to say all the power to them, I also wonder where they got the idea that the CDD experience is so limited that it can't have those same sentiments of personhood, family, wholeness, and health.

Oh, wait, yes, I do. TPA. Sorority. Crisses. Big names that actively shit on CDD systems daily, push debunked research, and say it's a limited experience based on misreadings and misinformation.

This doesn't even get into my favorite topic-- sophie is going to hate me, GO REBLOG YOUR OWN POST ABOUT FREUD, THIS ONE IS MINE, SHOO

Freud's use of "endogenic" to refer to the fantasy theory, which was completely overlooked by the coiner, who then attacked those upset by this fact.

Personally, prefer plural over endogenic.

I 1000% agree that disorganization on both sides is a huge problem, but IN MY OPINION, it boils down to a complete lack of interest in researching CDD history on the plural side. Antis react to that with anger and scream for extreme separation that often leads to straight up fakeclaiming plurals. Syscourse happens. Just as a very simple example, mediumship is very much a system-adjacent experience, but there's no fighting there and people know the difference quite well because the language doesn't overlap. I think this can happen for plurality and CDDs, too.

I want to jump in here to say, I'm not discounting the damage antis do to the plural community. I see it, I hear about it from my friends, I'm learning. It's not something I can speak on, I haven't experienced it firsthand. I imagine it's a terrible feeling, and it's this behaviour that made me leave the anti community. My own unique way of contributing to syscourse doesn't directly address this and I don't know how to help, other than to keep trying to educate antis and promote kindness and discussion over hostility and total separation.

There HAS to be an exchange in these conversations. For example, if I'm going to broaden my very personal spiritual beliefs to talk to someone, or reassess my entire understanding of human consciousness, the least they can do is acknowledge the history of the term endogenic.

As a reminder, that didn't go very well.

I think it boils down to both sides not wanting to be the bad guy. The plural community has harmed the CDD community just as much as the anti community has harmed the plural community (note that CDD/anti distinction, some of you all are getting way too comfortable conflating the two again), it's just different types of damage. If we're going to organize both communities, this needs to be acknowledged, worked on, and put in the past.

Unfortunately, we're still working on getting it acknowledged, and there's still a lot of work to be done.

Which goes into the next point-- echo chambers.

Having clarified that I DO support shared spaces, this is a bit easier to tackle.

... I don't actually really know what to say. I think both sides are stuck in echo chambers, but how do you even fix that? My reach is limited, and just because of who I am, my following, my past, my activity in syscourse, I refuse to join discord servers unless invited, and I think these servers are the biggest culprit.

In an ideal world, it could be really simple. Have someone look over the rules and any resource channels, make suggestions for changes, help educate the moderators and prepare them with standard replies for when arguments come up between members. Maybe it's a standard outside resource shared around, but I've YET to see one created by plurals that DOESN'T include the paper Normal Dimensions, which is a fucking paper fakeclaiming all systemhood.

And despite me pointing out this paper to several creators of these resources, only one has ever removed it, and it took a different person bringing it up to FINALLY have it removed.

But going back to the "bad guys" thing, no one actually wants this. No one wants to acknowledge that they had bad information up for others to view and integrate into their own thoughts.

I'm not suggesting myself, I'm one person, I'm educated, but I've been out of the field for over a decade. How do you determine who's trustworthy to assess this information?

Echo chambers are a massive problem... I have no idea how it could be tackled.

All I can really do is just keep pushing BOTH types of research out to BOTH sides of the community, and trust they're making the right choices about what resources they're pushing to their members, to further spread themselves.

We're still in the acknowledgment phase. Tackling some of these problems is a LONG way off.

I hope... this was okay??? I hope it answered your questions.

[otter-pup]

historical scenario:

as the prince, your parents have spared no expense getting you the finest tutors to prepare you to ascend to the throne (though your father remains in good health, long may he reign). you’re excellent with languages, accomplished with swordplay, know how to navigate the treacherous waters of court life with relative ease. a comprehensive education, with just one gap that you feel might be a massive oversight:

magic. alchemy. uncovering the hidden, intricate workings of Creation.

the king and queen don’t believe that sorcery is a pursuit worthy of your time (“That’s what the court astrologer is for,” your mother says, waving in my direction). after discussions turning into arguments, they outright forbid you to begin lessons with me.

so, of course, you come to my quarters at an odd hour of night, demanding, pleading with me to teach you in secret.

i wonder if your parents had other reasons to keep you from studying privately with me.

i shouldn’t. i really shouldn’t. it’s my neck on the line if they find out.

but alchemy is a complex, volatile frontier, and i could certainly use an assistant… i usher you in.

it is dull, arduous work, with a good deal of sweeping, grand theory, and only occasionally any tangible reward. but i part the veil for you. the divine mechanism of the stars, the basic elements of world, the Great Work. piece by piece, your understanding of reality shifts and expands, and… it is wonderful. breathtaking.

one evening, an experiment comes to its culmination— success. the two of us look in awe as the substances combine, swirl, and ignite— a striking, unearthly glow in the candlelit laboratory. as it dies down, we are both ranting excitedly, talking over each other as i ensure the concoction is safely stoppered and you document everything in the shorthand i taught you. we cheer, we grab each other and dance, and finally we are still for a moment, breathing heavily, holding each other, and i look down into your wide, shining eyes.

“It worked,” is all i say.

we combine. we swirl. we ignite. on the work table, against my bookcases. i help you see stars.

soon, it’s not just your understanding of reality that’s expanding.

- 🦑

i'm endlessly curious, much to my parents' dismay when all the tutoring they can offer me isn't enough to sate it. i want to know More -- more dangerous, tedious things that are meant to be told to me, not found by me.

so of course i come to you. i need to know, curiosity burning insatiable in my core, and you're the only one who can teach me. and, against my parents' wishes, with all the risk that entails, you do.

teaching me properly is very hands-on, to say the least - your hands overlapping mine as you show me the proper way to stir each individual concoction for the proper result, the proper way to hold the vials when pouring to keep it from spilling. soon enough, each touch is lighting more of a fire than it's sating, though i refuse to voice it and risk my unofficial, unauthorized apprenticeship.

and then we succeed. something we'd been working towards for months finally comes to fruition. and as soon as it's done, we're touching again with no real need, dancing around the workshop, and from there? the second fire you lit in me is finally sated - if it ever can be sated.

i can't be sure why i get so big so fast, if it's a side effect of my constant interaction with the arcane or if i'm simply that fertile naturally. regardless, my parents cannot simply get rid of the sire of the next royal children, saving you from their wrath.

i'm glad for it, because even as i'm still growing, i know this is far from the last litter i'll carry, and i want you to give me each one, to teach me more about seeing stars and about expansion each time.