#it’s post-social rumination

[shoutsindwarvish]

brain: feel shame and guilt!!!

me: but i didn’t do anything wrong???

brain: SHAME

brain: AND

brain: GUILT

[death-rebirth-senshi]

God I have like ten posts in my drafts about that "I hope your male fave marries a woman" post

[maletomboy]

ill be honest what some people are calling "compassion fatigue" might just be ocd

[shrineofdolls]

for transparency sake i thought i should state that i was diagnosed with c-ptsd when i was 18. this was almost 10 years ago, so perhaps the diagnosis is different now. That said, I'd argue that no two psychologists will diagnose somebody exactly the same.

please feel free to unfollow me and take care of yourself if my posting makes you feel uncomfortable. I don't feel my excuse is strong enough and I'm working on maintaining my emotions better so others don't have to see me in pain. i know its uncomfortable and its not really what i want my account to be.

for those of you continuing to stick around, thank you. i hope you are doing it in good faith and also i encourage you to care for yourself as well. i can't guarantee I'll post like i did in the past, but i do wish to aim for more purposeful posting if i decide to continue using social media.

[selectivechaos]

post event rumination. wanted to talk about it. social anxiety can make you regret a social interaction for a long time after. like a long long time. or it can be just for a few hours afterwards. sometimes, might be delayed; like you think the interaction went 'Well' (by social anxiety brain's definition), but then it twists it.

social interactions other people would walk away smiling from, have left me with no energy, terrified, and full of self-hatred.

personally, feels like brain just winces. like automatic negative thoughts (ANTs) hit suddenly; it's a sharp mental pain, triggered by events. one time, had this for about 4 months afterwards, just recurring cycle of rumination. could not get out of head. would be doing something else, and it would just come crashing back. the same thought. over and over again.

it does lessen with time. promise. don't have that thought any more. still sometimes will remember things, but it stings less.🌹🌹🌹

[likelyslumbering]

.

[tamaharu]

also in relation from that comic from earlier ive been meaning to say its pretty funny how with just p5 vanilla you get a bunch of akechi haters (justifiably so) and ren seems sad but fairly neutral and then royal dropped and you can be an akechi hater all you want but its different now cause now rens the freak whos obsessed with him. lol.

[goldenwoods]

This post is about the gaiman situation.

Right off the bat, fuck him and his associates. It's rare for someone in a position of power to get what they deserve but I hope he joins that short list. And I wish the victims well. What a horrible situation to be abused by a man masquerading as a champion for inclusivity and human rights.

That said, I don't understand the vitriol put towards people who're trying to recontextualise their relationship to gaiman's media in light of the revelations. I'm talking about those posts and comments getting angry at people for grieving, accusing them of not prioritising the victims.

Which is such an unwarranted accusation. Obviously, if they're under a post or article about the victim's testimony and they go "my season 3 :(((" or "my poor characters don't deserve this :("in the comment section then yeah, they're pretty disgusting. But the same accusations shouldn't be levied at people trying to come to terms with the fact that their formative experience was written by a monster ON THEIR OWN BLOG.

This isn't putting fictional characters before victims, it's just that there can't be much said about such a black and white situation that isn't already said by a million other posts ("fuck gaiman, fuck his supporters, hope the victims get justice"), whereas how a reader themselves deal with the fall of someone they've put on a pedestal is a much more complicated and nuanced process that they have to think through. If anything, I think it's a sign of a healthy community who treat 'fuck gaiman' as common sense and not something that needs arguments about. I don't know if there are ways to help the victims yet beyond just showing support on social media (let me know if i've missed something), but I don't think going after any fan daring to talk about their own relationship to the text is helpful at all. And I can guarantee you those who're grappling with how they feel towards the text now –– those feeling betrayed and angry –– will be quick to rally to support the victims because they're only feeling conflicted because of how disgusted they are with the author.

(For context, I don't feel attached to Gaiman at all so this is not related to any personal stakes I have in this. I enjoyed GO the show, but never read or watched any of his works otherwise. I was planning to get a copy of GO the book but the allegations surfaced first so that didn't end up happening either. I am partial to David and Michael's acting but even then I'm just a casual fan and if they react in a disappointing way to the Gaiman situation, I feel like I could stop consuming their works without much emotional turmoil.)

EDIT: since this is getting a fair bit of attention, i want to summarise my midnight ramble a bit: the crux of the problem is that lots of people treat this blogspace as a mega-conversation, which is how the 'you're not focussing on the victims enough' accusation come up. Think if you're in a conversation about how person A had been hurt by B: OF COURSE your response should be 'gosh that's fucked up. hope A's doing okay', and if your response ON THE SPOT is 'ohhhhh shit i don't know how to feel about the fact that I used to really like B lemme monologue about my complicated emotions out loud' then yeah you're the problem. But if you respond compassionately but spend a sizeable amount of time afterwards in your own head ruminating over how you used to think B was a really good person? ...then you're just a normal human being with a moral compass. Tumblr is the latter and not the former. It's the collection of dumping grounds for people's thoughts, not an online forum that give you a measure of where people's priorities are.

[skellymom]

@ventresses I meant to get back to you and say WOW great insight and post!

The Myth of Heroic Masculine Purpose, and How it’s Harming Men

This video is worth the time and at least listen (if you don't have time to sit down and actively watch). I was thinking of The Bad Batch's Hunter. Hunter wants to stay home and "do the laundry" settling on Pabu to raise Omega safely. He's done being a soldier. What he is doing is still worthy. Some in the fandom don't agree he should do that and denigrate his character for it. Not everyone can be an Echo or a Rex. We need some people to be on the home front to take care "of the laundry" as this video describes while others go to fight in the Rebellion. In our Earth history, there have been both, and it doesn't necessarily have to be gender specific.

[remcycl333]

STEP 1 - CHANGE WHAT YOU’RE AWARE OF

notes from “the creative use of imagination” by neville goddard 🤍

step 0 is to decide what you want. maybe you want money, or a new place to live, or an sp, or physical appearance changes.

step 1: begin to observe those thoughts and reactions towards the thing you want to manifest.

“to arrive at a certain definition of self, you must begin by uncritically observing your automatic reaction to an event, for your reaction defines your state” -NG

throughout this post, I will use the example of physical appearance change.

maybe throughout your day, you see pictures of other people on social media that you view as more attractive as you, and your reaction to that is “I wish I looked like them, this isn’t fair why am i not as attractive as them, what do I need to do to look like them” etc.

or maybe you see yourself in the mirror and you think “god why do i look like that, why am i not attractive? why hasn’t my face changed yet?” Etc

if you were in the state of having your desired physical appearance, would you be reacting that way to your 3D?

the first step to changing our state is to first learn the way our old state behaves and reacts to things. it is our current dwelling state that is reflecting in our 3d right now, and when you stop and observe your reactions to things, it becomes glaringly obvious how they’re creating your 3d. if you’re ruminating on how ugly you think you are all day long, you cannot be surprised when you look in the mirror and are dissatisfied with what you see.

“If you react to that which is being objectified, you bind yourself to a certain level of awareness, but if you refuse to react, the thread is broken.” -NG

“Only by observing your reactions to life can you find yourself.” -NG

how are you supposed to know what state you are in if you don’t observe your reactions? And once you begin to observe your reactions, Neville says you will be shocked by how deceitful you truly are. but he always urges the importance of uncritical observation. you should not shame yourself for what you find, or even feel bad. these observations are simply meant to show you your current state, and the ins and outs of it so you are able to change it more easily.

“always examine yourself uncritically, for the moment you become critical, you automatically justify your reactions and associate yourself with the thing observed.” -NG

once you begin to observe your reactions, you will become more aware of them when they happen. they’ll grow to become uncomfortable and glaring. they will feel like they don’t fit you anymore. maybe before they were just knee-jerk, unconscious reactions, but now you will feel them take up the space in your head whenever they arrive. and because of this, you will be able to shift your awareness to what you really want your 3d to reflect. you will be able to let go of the parts of yourself you no longer wish to identify with.

“be transformed by the renewing of your mind by changing the ideas planted there, for you cannot change your thinking until you change the ideas from which your thoughts flow.” -NG

your state creates your thoughts, not the other way around. it is critical to understand this if you wish to change your dwelling state. your thoughts are not your enemies. if you constantly battle against your thoughts, without ever paying mine to your state, you will not have much success.

“accept an idea as true. identify yourself with it and it will out-picture itself in your world. but if you do not accept the thought and identify yourself with it through feeling, you are free from its results. you must become very selective and learn not to associate yourself with unlovely thoughts.” -NG

this is not to confused with the term “mental diet.” when you react negatively to something, you have two options. 1) beat the thought down and panic and tell yourself the opposite without believing it to be true, or 2) choosing not to identify with it. remind yourself that this thought is just a thought. it has no power over you, and if you don’t want it to be manifested into your reality, it will not. Neville says if you do not consent to a thought as true, it will not manifest into your world. if you don’t associate your inner being with that thought, it will not come to pass in your 3D.

“start now to consent only to lovely thoughts of fulfilled desires prior to their confirmation by your senses, and give up the animal instinct of suffering and bathing yourself in the feelings of hurt and self-pity.” -NG

ruminating in unpleasant thoughts where your desire remain unfulfilled can be comfortable, and even habitual, but at the end of the day it is a choice. a choice that you have to stop making if you truly want better for yourself. this is something I struggled with a lot at the beginning of my manifestation journey. there was some twisted pleasure and comfort found in picking at scabs in my mind, and feeling sorry for myself, and imagining what would happen if my desire was never realized in my 3d. but eventually I had to choose better for myself, and I had to choose to stop giving so much attention to mental conversations like that.

“control your imagination with steady attention and dare to stand and be heard.” -NG

YOU create the happenings of your imagination, and your imagination creates your reality. do not feel silly or foolish deciding better for yourself in your own imagination. and do not let the logical restrictions of the 3d to tell you what you can and can not give yourself in imagination. give yourself what you want in imagination and stand firm in that, even if your 3d shows the opposite. stop silencing yourself in your own imagination!

this is my thoughts and notes only on the first two chapters of “the creative use of imagination” so more may come as I continue my re-read! 🤍 just wanted to share this :)

[milkoomi]

inner glow up. ᥫ᭡

while we focus on our physical selves to glow up, we tend to forget about our minds and hearts. we also need to focus on letting more light come into ourselves. the way we think, the way we love, the way we expend our energy; all of that can have this aspect of “glowing up” too! in this post, we’re going to discuss how to glow from within and let that beautiful new energy radiate outwards.

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — the mind

deep clean your thoughts

meditation:

take a moment, even if it’s just for 5 minutes, to sit and clear your head. focus on breathing exercises, concentrate on the rhythm of your heart, listen to the ambient noises of your surroundings. meditation is a fantastic way of clearing your mind and removing those overwhelming thoughts that are piling up in your brain! you also don’t need to be sitting, you could also meditate while in the shower! i have an entire guide on how to do so! you can also take meditative walks and focus on your surroundings.

journaling:

just dump all your thoughts onto a page, write down everything that’s on your mind. once you’re done you can even rip up the paper and toss it away! doing these journal dumps can help release those racing thoughts and clear your mind. it may even help to relieve some weight off your shoulders!

decorate your mind with peace & kindness

write down affirmations or go to a mirror and say those affirmations to yourself! fill your head with positive thoughts and calming reassurance.

try recording a voice message & send it to yourself! you can say your affirmations that way or give yourself a motivational mini-speech. this way, you can go back to those messages when you need an uplifting message from someone. and it’s always better to get back up with kindness and love from yourself!

organize your headspace

make room for positivity, peace, and grace and throw out all the negativity that’s tossed around in your head. don’t let negative talk from others, media, or yourself take up space in your head! your mind should never hold a spot for negativity.

distance yourself from those who bring you down

delete social media that no longer serves you or take regular breaks to unplug from your phone

replace negative self-talk with positive affirmations

replace “i can’t” with “i can”

୨ৎ — the heart

nurture your heart

as your mind is an important place to keep thoughts of joy, kindness, and love, your heart needs to feel it!

practice self care

take care of your physical needs (shower, drink water, brush your teeth, eat nutritious and delicious foods, move your body)

write yourself love letters

say “thank you” when receiving compliments

provide protection for your feelings

your heart is scared and access to it should be very limited. don’t let just anyone in. now, i’m not saying you have to put iron walls up around your heart and feelings, but i’m saying that you need to be selective. be picky about who you surround yourself with.

invite people who…

provide genuine & unconditional love

support you and your dreams

encourage you to prioritize your health (physical & mental)

offer guidance when you feel lost

close the doors on people who…

make jokes out of your insecurities

take your passions and dreams as something to laugh about

invalidate your feelings and thoughts

think it’s okay to walk all over you

don’t value your time and space

୨ৎ — letting in the light

i believe our energies attract different things whether we want them to or not. letting dark or bad energy ruminate within yourself and allowing it to consume you can attract misfortune, loss, and sadness which keeps us from reaching our true potential.

let light or good energy flow within you and let that energy be the one that takes up all the space. you’ll attract what you actually want rather than the things you wish to avoid.

light energy can come from…

taking up hobbies you enjoy

listening to music that makes you feel good

spending time with loved ones

going on nature walks

playing with pets

celebrating your accomplishments

final notes —

the biggest take away from this: protect your peace. becoming the best version of yourself comes with knowing how to find peace within yourself and making sure you show yourself love and kindness. the main person you should lean on for that kind of good energy should be you. let your glow up start from within!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[iwoulddieforher]

Pondering Temperature | Casey Novak//&Alex Cabot

Author's Note:

First post ... I have absolutely no clue how tumblr works or how the tumblr social interaction is supposed to be, however, I am so obsessive about these two dumb gay lawyers I had to show up anyway.

No warnings & this is also partially a character study experiment for Casey ... I wanted it to feel like it was vaguely possible a scene like this could exist in canon.

Summary: One dumb gay lawyer has a rough time of it and the other dumb gay lawyer takes her for coffee and then they proceed to have a casual conversation with very gay overtones.

4.4k words, I think?

//Images stolen from either here or Pinterest

Like a breeze that exasperates an already cold New York winter, Alex Cabot made Casey Novak uncomfortable. Not outright agitated or irritable, but just enough of a nuisance that she couldn't push it out of her mind, and if she managed, she would be inevitably reminded of it shortly as the wind picked back up again, scattering snowflakes across her face.

For around a month, she and Cabot had been “sharing” SVU. She had returned from suspension, and Cabot had returned from wherever the hell she was, and the precinct wanted both of them so they just kept sharing caseloads. It should have made her thrilled- another ADA meant she could be even more hands-on in the active cases, be able to study each argument until she could perform all of her movements flawlessly. But with Cabot, it just didn't work right.

They said less than fifty words to each other per day, and none of them were ever in sentences. A quick, “another case came in- mine, or yours?”, “Olivia needs a warrant filled, so I’m going to the courthouse- did you need anything from a judge?” “Warner asked to see you,” “Olivia asked to see you,” “Cragen’s looking for you,” God. People were always looking.

The person giving the curt notice would never expect a response- if anything, a nod or a short “Yeah, on it”, and then exit immediately.

It felt ridiculously awkward. Warmer than greeting a defense counsel, because at least they were fighting the same fight, but compared to the warmth of connection shared by the rest of the squad- yes, okay, bickering was constant, but they cared about each other on a level hard for any outsider to understand- it felt cold.

Cold reminded Casey immediately of the teasing nickname the squad referred to Cabot with- ‘Ice Queen'. It didn't help that for the first months of becoming the Special Victims counselor, Casey was constantly fighting to fill the shoes of Cabot in the squad member's eyes- and now, that legendary blonde was perched casually in the office somewhere near her’s, her annoyingly cooperative naturally blonde hair flowing down her annoyingly straight, always squared back shoulders.

Fighting the squad's fiery rejection with her own fire of determination, setting everything ablaze in a stupid, unnecessary, inefficient inferno that Alexandra Cabot would never struggle with. Amazing.

“Earth to Casey.” Olivia broke through her thoughts, piquing an eyebrow at her and settling down at the chair across from Casey’s desk. The ADA casually slid her eyes down to the detective’s face, having mastered the art of not startling when people try to snap her back to active consciousness.

“Casey’s on Earth,” She hummed, tapping her pen idly on the desk.

"Sure you are." The detective snorted, shaking her head. "If you still had that red hair, I'd make a joke about you being a homesick martian."

Casey didn't have red hair anymore. She had blonde hair, like Alex. Except Alex's hair was a toned, icy blonde, while her own remained stubbornly warm no matter how much toner she tried to use to mask her original dark copper- at some point she quit trying, settling for a blonde so dirty it could possibly pass as light brown. That thought made her internally sigh with the level of rumination over that woman.

"What do you need?"

Benson dropped a case file on her desk, a grimace that reads of determined resignation on her face. "Could you get a warrant?"

Casey's brain clicked back over to work mode, sliding her finger along the side of the case file out of habit before freeing the pages from the bounds of a paperclip and skimming over the words. "This seems straightforward.. oh."

She blinked, slowly, glancing up at Liv without breathing. The police officer doesn't seem to notice anything wrong with her- thank god, sometimes Liv can be very unobservant- although she's very observant where it counts, so perhaps that's a rude musing to make- so she doesn't move to cover her hesitation.

"So, you want to pop the shrink?" She says, tracing the word 'schizophrenic' with the pad of her index finger.

Olivia nods, stiffening her shoulders in the sort of half-shrug motion that thinned her lips that Casey had come to identify with her. "We want to know more about his delusions to see if that matches up with what happened to this woman, but the good doctor just doesn't want to talk. He's also suspicious as hell, so..."

Casey huffs, squinting at a page. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well, that's your job, isn't it?" Olivia snarks, feisty but not overtly mean, just.. Liv-like. The toll of being a detective, Casey supposed, was her sense of urgency overriding politeness. That's fine. That's what she's grown used to, anyway. It doesn't stop Casey from gritting her teeth with a twitched eyebrow as Olivia stalks off.

It takes her a bit longer than she would've liked to prepare to take this into the judge on rotation's chambers. The affidavit was written, and sat unassumingly on her desk, while she tried to steel her nerves. If she's honest, she wished Olivia had chosen to take this to Cabot instead of her. Donnelly's leering eyes as she squinted at Casey around any mention of mental illness in perps made her immensely thrilled said judge was not likely to be inside said court today.

The judge who was inside the building, however, was not very sympathetic to the issue.

In all honesty, Casey doesn't really even understand how the argument happened. One moment she was walking up the steps into the polished, posh building and then she was walking down them, barely contained fury in her eyes and in the way she clenched her jaw.

"But you have to understand," she replays her own voice in her mind, the schooled, smooth tone, "doctor-patient confidentiality does not extend this far. If this man is genuinely a danger to himself and everyone around him, there's no reason this psychiatrist should be permitted to without vital information-"

The way the judge had raised a finger in her face, silencing her as one might a little irritated kid, "If this doctor thought that there was a genuine concern, then of course he would have. But these cases are sensitive, and I will not stand for the usage of these very personal admissions as shock value-"

"I assure you, any information found using this warrant will not be abused, Your Honor, and the detectives-"

"You don't have enough on him to guarantee him as a prime suspect, and could easily lead to a misdirection in the investigation and therefore in this court. Granting this warrant right now would be premature and lead too-"

"I understand and acknowledge what you're wary of, but I can assure you-"

"I don't think you can assure me of anything with a case like this, Novak." The judge had snapped, just shy of a scoff- but they followed it up quickly so it didn't come off too much like a personal jab with a "I see no reason why this is necessary."

Casey internally flared in response, standing utterly still for a moment as it felt like an engine ignition fumbled in her stomach, before exhaling and nodding. "Thank you for your time, Your Honor." She replied as a rehearsed courtesy and nothing more, turning to leave the judge's chambers.

The judge had raised an almost withered looking finger, denying her exit. "Novak, I want you to know, I'm watching your movements on this case. It's not your job to carry out personal justice as you see fit. I don't want a repeat of-"

"I'm aware I've made mistakes in the past, Your Honor, but I assure you I will not repeat prior incidents." Her voice had cracked almost imperceptibly at the end, a motion neither had acknowledged- perhaps the judge hadn't noticed, but Casey had- a sound like a wooden block in a fireplace.

The judge stared at her for a moment, and she had stared back, disguising the fire behind her green eyes with the practiced blanket of professionalism. The judge had then nodded, looking away from her, and she was finally released from the interaction. The sharp, curt sound of her heels on the marble floors as she stalked away had been her tether, fixated on the sound while schooling herself away from obsessing over the blazing anger.

And that led her to the stairs again, on the way out, where she stopped and stood blankly for a moment, staring into the street without registering anything. She ground her teeth against each other, trying her best to wrangle in her fiery temper before she impulsively sunk her teeth into something she could control-

"Casey?"

She jerked her head to the side, where a composed if not a bit concerned Alex Cabot stood, her head tilted just the slightest. Her cold blue eyes bore into Casey's face in a way that strangely was not uncomfortable.

When she didn't immediately grant that with any real response, Cabot followed it up with, "You okay?"

The beast of adrenaline-filled fire in her stomach flared out of her control again, pouncing and writhing in her organs. She wasn't exactly sure what about Alex at this moment had her infuriated, but god, she was.

Her years of experience in court, especially her time with SVU where she'd needed to control her emotions with an iron fist if not to fumble her arguments out of anger and easily-placed personal attachment, had taught her enough to respond in a way that didn't indicate her fury.

To the average person.

Unfortunately, Alex Cabot was not an average person, and her own years of experience allowed her to see right through the younger attorney, which did absolutely nothing for Casey's misplaced anger.

"Peachy," Casey started, before realizing she didn't have anything to follow that up with, so she left it with a curt, overtly controlled nod.

"Sure you are." Alex smiled, jerking her eyebrows up to indicate her sarcasm that definitely didn't need to be further emphasized, and Casey felt like she could deck her. She briefly wondered what Alex would look like beneath her on her floor, pale skin on cold concrete, before deciding that's not exactly an appropriate pondering of her coworker.

Cabot clearly intended for her successor-turned-ally to elaborate on the source of her grievance, but Casey did not particularly feel like explaining herself, so she simply bit the corner of her lip out of habit and looked away from her, tucking her hands in her coat pockets and squaring her shoulders.

If she was honest to herself, she didn't really know what to explain, anyway. She knew that after returning from something as appalling as her Brady-violation-censure, she'd need to work five times as hard to regain the respect she had thus lost, and it was in no way surprising she had gained a reputation for being loose with cases that could relate to her more personally. Alex could understand that, but saying that out loud was not only pathetic but also did not accurately encompass the feeling swirling in the pit of her stomach. And part of her anger, now, was simply due to the presence of the other woman, which she definitely could not verbalize either.

Alex was cool, calm, composed, and her demeanor reminded Casey of the layer of ice built by cold weather on the surface of a lake. Glassy and honest, and in all ways beautiful, but in a way that concealed whatever lurked beneath all that. You could look through it, sure, see the color of the water, but until it melted what you were really standing above was something you could only wonder about.

Standing next to her made Casey feel rather inferior. She had always felt things more strongly than peers, always pictured her anger and her righteousness as altruistic flame, and in the beginning of her career this untethered drive to fight for justice had been a valuable asset, something that drove her to snarl at wrongdoers in white collar in a way other attorneys simply could not. But in special victims? Where everything was so personal, so connected, so intrinsically human? Every spark became an inferno, every morning harder to struggle to leash herself than the last. Once the wildfire was over, everything was laid bare and burnt on the floor of whatever hill Casey had so chosen to die on. And cold, ever-composed Alex Cabot knew nothing of that.

The roar of fire in Casey's heart had no similarity to the tranquility of ice displayed exclusively by Alex. Perhaps that's why Casey would never be able to live up to the legend Cabot was regarded as. It made her feel disgustingly human- something this job did not allow her room for.

"We're getting coffee," Alex says suddenly, snapping Casey out of her internal monologue to herself for the second time. The natural blonde's words were snipped but not unkind, but that didn't stop Casey from raising her eyebrows, trying to muster the icy attitude she just didn't really have in her.

Before she can retort with anything of sustenance, she feels Alex's slim fingers on the back of her coat, right on the curve of her shoulder blade, and the taller woman beginning to lead her in firm strides that she without thinking copied.

"Alex-"

"Are we going to a cafe- perhaps the one down the street, the one with all the monsteras in the windows, so we can sit down, or are we going to the coffee cart over there so we can continue this discussion in the office?"

"What are we continuing, exactly?" Casey bristled, shooting her a look, which Alex met without her proper smile faltering in the slightest.

"My vote," Cabot says casually, "is for the cafe. I like the atmosphere there."

Casey can feel her anger ebbing, but just for the sake of spiting her she indicated with her jaw towards the shape of the coffee cart a hundred meters or so down the street.

She internally groans when she reads through the lines of Alex's brisk side-smirk and behavior to realize the blonde had, in fact, also preferred the coffee cart and knew Casey was going to try to jab in like that- but Novak doesn't change her decision, nor does that realization add to any sort of negative emotion. The fire-monster in her heart growled a soft, "well played," before creeping back into a crevice in her ribcage.

They walk in an odd silence, Alex's hand on Casey's back never relenting despite her now willingness to follow the older woman's direction. Casey doesn't want to admit to herself how she's started easing into the touch.

She misses it just slightly when Alex finally does let her hand slide back to her own side as they approach the coffee cart salesman, but she focuses on reading and contemplating the menu, reaching for her purse before being rewarded with the feeling of Alex's finger brushing her wrist in a way that firmly dismissed the assumption Cabot was going to allow Casey to pay for herself. She raises her eyes in mild surprise, only to find Alex already looking at her, eyes showing a degree of knowingness that makes Casey's insides turn with mild discomfort. In an effort to resolve that, she resigns to allow Alex to cover her.

"I'll have an iced caffé mocha, please," Alex starts, then turning to Casey, who after a blank pause finishes with "and I'll take a cappuccino."

After Alex finds her wallet with a significant lack of fumbling that makes Casey again irritated at her inability to have the most basic human struggles, and after the salesman hands over two paper cups, Casey spins on her heel and begins back towards the DA's office.

"Iced coffee? Really? We live in New York, Alex, it's freezing already." She critiques, although more so simply because it's the only thing she can formulate to say. She finds that she doesn't regret starting with that, though, as Alex wrinkles the tip of her refined nose playfully.

"God knows with our job I need the sugar," Cabot takes a sip, then gestures at the steam rising from the mouthpiece of Casey's coffee's lid, "and I don't have the patience to wait for my coffee to cool enough for me to drink it."

Casey snorts. "You? Without patience? And I just sacrifice my throat."

With that, she takes a defiant sip, soothed in an odd way by the feeling of the too-hot coffee in her throat, although as she was already aware of from the feeling of it in her palm it wasn't really *that* hot. Alex responds with a furrowed brow.

"I'm- I'm not quite sure you should do that, Casey."

"I'm not sure you're in a position to question what I do, Cabot," she snarked, riled up again, before catching herself with a huff and then a slightly shameful, "Sorry."

"It's okay-" Alex starts, and then immediately echoes at Casey's scoff, "no, seriously, it's okay. I snapped at you when I was literally your client, back when you prosecuted my case- remember? So I'll let that one go now. And besides, I do sometimes question what you do, so that's not unfair regardless."

Casey turns her head briskly, an indignant almost-glare of confusion on her face, which Alex responds to with a puff of air that almost sounds like a giggle.

"Not in the way you're thinking, Casey."

The younger woman pauses in her steps, and Alex looks up in mild surprise to realize they've already reached the DA's office. A twinge of fear signals in her heart at Casey's silence, especially because the woman is facing straight and thus Alex could not read her expression, but then Novak briskly says,

"Well, lucky for you, you actually have started a discussion I want to continue. So as per your previous suggestions, we can take this to my office if that-" she turns, and Alex is met with an unreadable expression that doesn't exactly soothe her nerves yet replaces said anxiety with the momentary stun that comes from meeting the eyes of someone beautiful, "is still acceptable with you."

Alex takes an extra millisecond to respond which causes a small crease to appear between Casey's eyebrows, but when she hears the older woman's, "gladly", she visibly relaxes and continues on her path.

They remain in silence, Alex allowing Casey to pave the way ahead of her despite knowing where her office was, until the door had clicked behind both attorneys and Casey was seated on the couch in her office with Alex perched across from her, mirroring the way they had composed themselves years ago when Casey was preparing Alex for trial.

"You said you question me," Casey began bluntly, prodding, "what did you mean by that?"

The younger attorney leans forward, elbow on her knee, short of entering Alex's space but enough that Alex's spine leans automatically backwards.

Alex clears her throat, rather enjoying the way Casey approached the given situation like a courtroom exchange, crossing one lithe leg over the other. Casey pretends like she didn't trace the motion over in her mind, keeping her eyes schooled on Alex's face.

"When you hear about the details of a case, your eyes light up. And I don't mean in the normal expression of, say, 'her eyes lit up in excitement', but your eyes look like a spark ignite behind them and it doesn't go away until you hear that guilty verdict."

"Alright, smooth-talker, that doesn't answer my question-"

"And I question that," Alex cuts in with a tilt of her head, "in the sense that I question how one can be that driven."

With that, the dynamic is suddenly shifted, Alex leaning forward intently while Casey, who is momentarily caught off guard, leans in the opposite direction, her back pressed against the couch, sharp eyes studying Alex's face.

"You sink your teeth into every case you prosecute like a lioness holding out for her own and there's something gorgeous about watching you pace in that courtroom landing blow after blow, until the jury is so sure of your own authenticity it makes every defense counsel seem subpar." Alex continues seamlessly, encouraged by the faintest flush on Casey's cheekbones.

Cabot lets out a sigh, then, "When I go out with the detectives to celebrate a case, I see something similar in their faces- that sort of fierceness, that... that fire. And if I'm honest, I.. I just don't relate."

Casey blinks blankly at her, and Alex shakes her head with a twitched eyebrow. "I'm driven to succeed, obviously. I'm not selling myself short, I really will do everything possible to ensure justice is served. But we're not only prosecutors, we also need to be politicians, and I know that especially because of my uncle being a judge- I ended up working in SVU as a strategic decision. I learned to love working here, to get invested on a deeper level that matters, but... somehow, in maintaining all of that in my head, I just- that personal enrapture with each case you have, I wish I had that. I question that- how you have that, when I can't. I think it makes you an exceptional prosecutor."

The younger ADA's jaw opened as if to respond, but then she bit down on empty air, eyes narrowing as she processed Alex's almost random confession.

"And, to my understanding," Alex started again, "in the beginning, you didn't even want this job. And yet you devour every hardship you encounter now regardless. So I watch you, what you do, how you approach things, and I question that, because I really want to understand."

They sit in silence for a short moment, Casey's eyes so harsh that anyone else would prickle, uncomfortable with the examination, but Alex barely shifts, still leaning forward.

"Jesus, Alex." Casey huffs, finally. "Here I was, jealous as hell of your ability to seem so... unfazed. Nonchalant, even."

Alex offers a small, apologetic smile. "Unfortunately that couldn't be further from the truth. I am very chalant- well, not as much as you, but I wish that I was. That I could be. Lose myself in the case and forget all about the facade."

"The fact that you don't," Novak murmurs, "is what makes you so admirable to me, though." Casey bites the corner of her lip, her eyes dropping to somewhere near Alex's knee, although it's obvious she's neglecting her sense of sight to focus on the mental weight of the conversation. Her voice, normally either curt or rough, sounds like a low hum that Alex decides she wouldn't mind hearing a lot more of.

Casey has the odd urge to divulge her struggles now onto Alex. Tell her about the constant comparison between them she had been faced with, tell her about the way exactly what Alex found interesting in her was what made her be known as a liability or a hazard, whine and ramble and lay herself bare. The last of the indulgent flames flickered to an end as she eased, the air she breathed out heavier as she felt tension leave her spine.

She doesn't really want to verbalize all that, though. And thankfully she doesn't have too, because stupidly attractive Alex Cabot is so perceptive that it's apparent to Casey the older woman had sensed not only the original stress but also the release of it, and Alex's demeanour shifted just slightly to reveal her own satisfaction with eliciting such a reaction from her compliments alone. It's enough, for Casey, though, to know now that perhaps her own scrutinizing comparisons may be more self critical than necessary- or, at least, that Alex seems to believe in her.

They sit there, in silence, for a bit longer than they could ever explain to anyone else, Casey still staring blankly off into space but in the direction of Alex while the latter woman stares very bluntly at Casey.

"So, the next time you get all fired up," Alex says slowly, watching Casey's eyes as they faze back into focus, "I hope you know that's something I appreciate about you. And if you wish, you can come find me, and we'll get coffee again."

"I'll pay, next time," Casey says hurriedly, glancing towards the coffee cups that had been more or less completely forgotten about on her side table. She hesitates, squinting as she tries to figure out which one of them had contained her's.

Alex picks up on the confusion and then becomes similarly conflicted on the coffee cup ownership, tentatively picking up the one closest to her and taking a sip before quickly shaking her head and putting it back down. "Sorry- the cup felt cold, so I thought it was mine. This one's yours, it must have just cooled while we were talking."

She slides it on the table towards Casey, who accepts it, taking a swig. Alex is right- her's had cooled down till it was room temperature, while Alex's had warmed up to meet it.

"You did that." Casey says softly, almost accusingly, using the coffee as an allegory for herself that Alex apparently does not understand based on the furrowed brow she got in response.

Novak waves her hand vaguely, and Alex shrugs to herself, choosing to resign herself from the confusion and instead internally celebrate the fact Casey had just agreed on a 'next time'.

"I've got arraignment, soon," Alex breathed, although something in her itched to stay just the slightest bit longer, to watch Casey's features for just an extra couple seconds, "but I'm glad we had this talk."

"It's given me a lot to think about," Casey responded smoothly, standing with a nod to herself. "Alex... thank you."

A small hint of rosy color graced Alex's smooth skin, and she smiled warmly in a way Casey would have previously doubted she was capable of. The older woman followed Casey to her feet, her hand finding Casey's shoulder again briefly as a goodbye, before Alex nodded kindly and turned to disappear out into the world once more, collecting her coffee cup before she left.

Casey watched her leave, green eyes studying her lithe figure for as long as possible before she really did vanish entirely.

In the back of her mind, she vaguely hoped that this arrangement would continue 'till the summer, because she could bet the cold breeze she had come to associate with Alex Cabot would feel wonderful in warmer weather.

And for now, apparently, she could count on her gorgeous coworker to warm up her day's experience with coffee.

[megaderping]

Something I think goes underappreciated about Persona 4 is the way that it gives you all the tools you need to solve its greatest mysteries if you put the time in to explore. There are special NPC interactions throughout the year with plot relevant characters like the Moel Gas Station attendant, Mitsuo Kubo, and Namatame that give insights to their roles in the story.

Take the attendant, for example:

This character ONLY appears on rainy days. Persona 4 teaches you that rainy days are important. The Midnight Channel, your rescue deadlines, all of it links back to rain, so if you go to the gas station on those days, you get dialogue. This NPC is never available on any other day. So, if you catch onto this pattern, the gas station attendant becomes more significant than if you never explore the town on rainy days and just focus on your story objectives, Social Links, etc.

But it's not just the gas station attendant. This applies to other plot significant characters, too.

Taro Namatame is a special NPC who only appears around set dates in the game's calendar, but one who appears throughout the entire story. The game teaches you he's important by giving him a portrait. Portrait characters are always going to be more meaningful, which actually makes the gas station attendant a fascinating subversion by having a distinct design and even a voice actor in his introduction, but not a portrait until the game's final day.

But if you interact with Namatame, you will get insight to his feelings and get early evidence that he did not kill Saki or Mayumi Yamano. If you explore, if you investigate, you will have the tools you need months in advance to confront the game's red herrings and see through the fog.

But you have to put in the effort. You have to commit yourself to the investigation and leave no stone unturned. Persona 4 embraces the mystery genre even in its game design by encouraging exploration and interaction with Inaba itself.

Mitsuo is another example. He's introduced earlier with a portrait and appears on the overworld for a few months before he becomes plot relevant. During this time, you do get glimmers of... possible concern intermixed with his less pleasant personality.

But he genuinely is furious at the police for their inability to catch the killer. He may not be nice, he may look creepy, and he may be a copycat killer who wants the attention, but with his dungeon painting this action as a result of social ostracization, expulsion, and possibly even neglect, he becomes a much more layered, if ultimately still antagonistic character. For more on that, I recommend this tumblr post. So, once again, you are given a hint that he's a red herring, if you pay attention, remember those interactions, and ruminate on them.

There are other really cool NPC interactions that update throughout the game, like the shopkeepers, but I bring these examples up specifically because they demonstrate how Persona 4's game design sets you up with all the tools you need to solve the case that I think go underdiscussed.

[ihatetaxes99]

Alrighty, fun theory time: What if Neito Monoma was actually brain-damaged?

I swear, this isn't a joke post, this is a genuine headcanon/theory I like to consider that possibly explains the... Sharp shift in his behaviour. Of course, it obviously isn't actually canon, I don't think anyone would believe that for a second, but it's an idea I like to ruminate upon. That said, time to elaborate:

It's no secret that when the character of Neito Monoma was introduced during the Sports Festival story arc of the Boku No Hero manga, he was rather different from his later portrayals.

Unless I'm forgetting something, this was the first proper panel introducing Monoma in the series:

As you can see, there were some... Changes later on down the line:

Anyone can tell that something happened here. Anyone who has a basic knowledge of the manga is aware that this second image is not an outlier. Monoma has been consistently portrayed as arrogant, over-the-top and borderline mentally unwell. There's clearly something wrong with this boy, this isn't just a kid being energetic.

Monoma in his initial appearance was clearly a bit underhanded, yes. He was a schemer, a trickster, almost like the heroes' version of Mr. Compress (I had to fit a reference to my G in there somehow) in how he relies on subterfuge and deception over raw strength; None of this translates to the psychopathic brat he became as early as the Training Camp arc. The question is, what happened to cause this? I mean, yeah, there are a few pretty good guesses as to why his personality was retconned out-of-universe (I've always taken an interest in the theory that his insanity was turned up to make Kendo's behaviour towards him seem more justified, somehow, and have her come off as less unlikeable, though there is also the popular theory that Bakugo's popularity had a hand in things as well, which I won't get into here), but that's boring. I am an Autist, and what I want is an in-universe explanation to use as my personal headcanon.

And so, we come to this delightful little panel:

Acquired Brain Injury (ABI) refers to a form of brain injury brought about by physical trauma or other damage caused sometime after birth, as opposed to genetic brain damage. As listed by the Scottish Acquired Brain Injury Network, symptoms of ABI can include:

Reduced motivation.

Reduced ability to initiate activity.

Reduced motivation.

Reduced empathy.

Emotional Lability

Reduced impulse control (i.e. reduced ability to control expression of emotions and behaviour).

Agitation.

Aggressive behaviour.

Impaired judgement.

Socially inappropriate behaviour.

Sexually disinhibited behaviour.

Reduced insight/awareness of the consequences of brain injury and its impact.

Obviously, not all of these symptoms are relevant to Monoma's case, but some - such as emotional lability, reduced impulse control, agitation, aggressive behaviour, impaired judgement and socially inappropriate behaviour - sound very familiar.

In short, it's proven that physical trauma to the head can very much influence and alter a person's personality, resulting in instability. And as we can see from the image, Bakugo very nearly blew Monoma's head off during the climax of the chariot battle. The way that his head snaps back is clearly indicative of receiving some sort of sharp blow.

And that is where the basis of my theory is formed. Neito Monoma starts out his UA career as a somewhat ambitious and devious, but intelligent and well put-together kid. Then, during the Sports Festival, he receives a severe blow to the head from Bakugo. Given the nature of UA's training regiment, it's even possible that he would sustain more injuries off-panel between the end of the Festival and his next appearance at the Training Camp, possibly even developing the situation into Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. And that's not even considering all of the times Kendo has been seen striking him hard enough to knock him out cold. We're also well aware of how lax UA is in regards to their medical care, with a kiss from Recovery Girl and a few days' rest typically being seen as the best way to deal with incidents. In this environment, Monoma's head trauma would go on to manifest itself in more and more personality defects, transforming him over time as his intellectual capabilities were diminished and his aggressive and socially unaware behaviour grew more and more pronounced. It puts a tragic spin on what is essentially a mishandled joke character, holding the lens to UA's negligent behaviour that the manga barely touched in any real depth.

Of course, as I said, obviously none of this is the case. Monoma was rewritten to be a joke after the Sports Festival and that is the long and short of it. There isn't really anything deeper going on there, not intentionally at least. But I like to dream. And I've really grown rather fond of this little headcanon.

[hiskillingjar]

Please plspls write sexed up abusive lesbians law x strade 🤞🤞

sorry lesbians, sorry dykes, this is a post for fucked up transfems and quasi-chasers now. sorry :(

4000+ words, cw for slurs, they are the worst grindr hookup in the world and i'm obsessed with themmmmm (this may have a part 2 if the people don't execute me)

also crossposted on ao3 give me attentionnnnnuh

"hey cutie, having a good night?"

Lawrence almost flinched after hearing the foreign notification ‘blllip’ on their phone. 

It was late, they had just gotten home from work and they were sifting through their saved videos (car crashes, open-faced surgery, execution porn and the like) to get to sleep, their body heavy on the mattress, their head heavier with drugged intoxication from a short smoking circle at the warehouse before they left.

They blinked sleepy grey (dead) eyes as they opened the app with a slide of their thumb, the orange-and-black interface unfamiliar, they used it so little.

Right. They downloaded this to buy weed from the new guy at work, didn’t they? 

Did they even have a profile set up? Apparently so, if someone nearby had found them.

They let out a short sigh through their nose, moving onto their back under the heavy, weighted blankets as they typed out a reply to ‘strade 36 verse’.

‘Verse’. What did that even mean?

"Hi."

Lawrence barely had time to rub their eyes before the orange bubble was typing again. 

"hi!"

An instant reply. ‘Strade 36 verse’ must have been online then.

They sat up with another sigh and their lips pursed in a thoughtful pout, wondering if they should respond further, and what to say if they did. 

They didn’t really know the etiquette of most social media, after all. The most exposure they’d had to it was a Tumblr account that was quickly taken down when they posted an especially gory work-in-progress photo of a new sculpture (for “violating community guidelines’ they said when they’d asked), and they’d left it at that, so this was new to them. 

It wasn't like they’d been on something as casual as a dating app before, so they had no prior experience or point of reference on how these kinds of interactions generally played out.

So, in place of another message, they decided to wait for ‘Strade 36 verse’ to reply again, to send the dreaded ‘double text’ or lose interest in their flaky response, before they did anything on their own.

They wouldn’t have to wait long for that, though.

"nice pics, you’re very, very cute." He praised, sending through a winking-face emoji and a blonde angel emoji, referencing the badly taken, but well-cropped mirror selfies on their profile, just so the weed guy knew who they were when they messaged. "are you down for anything tonight?"

Lawrence frowned, idly worrying their bottom lip between their crooked teeth as they pushed a hand into their greasy hair. They’d shower before work tomorrow. Or not.

They weren't entirely sure what ‘down for anything’ meant and weren't sure if they necessarily wanted to know either.

"Thank you.” They typed, well-trained to be polite to compliments. “Down for anything like what, exactly?"

"lol, you're adorable"

"like hooking up? lol"

Lawrence nearly dropped their phone at that.

Their face burned a hot red as they sat upright quickly, pushing aside their weighted blankets and ruminating in silence for several long moments on how to respond to Strade’s outright forwardness.

Was everyone on this app like this?

"I don't know you.” They wrote with another deep frown. “I only really use this app to buy weed. What do you want from me?"

"haha that's hilarious!" Strade wrote back quickly with a series of laughing emojis, which just made Lawrence frown even more. What did he find so funny? "cute pics for a burner account tho. what's that for?~"

They felt their face burning hotter and hotter as they stared at Strade's response, dumbfounded at his capacity to play along with such unwilling prey, before setting the phone down in their lap and pressing the heels of both hands to their eyes, too tired and (frankly) too high to make sense of what this guy was trying to do to them.

‘...cute pics...?’

They took a breath and picked up their phone again, trying to respond as normally as they could without cussing the guy out.

"What do you mean cute? It's just my face."

"it’s a cute face," He sent with a virtual wink.

They took another short moment, trying to collect themself, long, trembling fingers hovering over the keyboard on their phone, before they typed out another response. 

"I don't know about cute...but thanks, I think."

"you're so welcome~"

There was a pause as Strade typed another string of words, punctuated by an orange bubble and animated ellipses.

"if you're not here to hook up, maybe we could just exchange pics hm?"

"Pictures of...what exactly?"

"i'll show you mine if you show me yours," He wrote, punctuated by an eggplant emoji, a peach emoji and…a water spray emoji.

Lawrence didn’t need to be a genius in social media lingo to know exactly what that meant.

They tried to swallow the growing lump in their throat before reluctantly replying.

"What makes you think I'd send you a picture like that? I don't even know what you look like."

"i have a profile pic sweetheart," He wrote with another winking emoji, making Lawrence flush that they hadn’t even taken the time to look at Strade’s profile before they started talking to him. "but fair point! wanna make sure i’m not a catfish, huh?"

'Sweetheart...'

The nickname sent a little chill down Lawrence’s spine, but…not in a wholly unpleasant way.

It might have even been kind of nice to be called that, even if it was from a stranger on a dating app of all places.

There were a few moments of ‘silence’ before their phone ‘blllipped’ with a notification that Strade had sent them a picture, which they quickly opened. 

He looked like...well, he looked like a totally normal guy in his thirties, relaxing on a couch as if he’d just gotten home from work after a hard day. Tan skin, dark stubble, a handsome smile, everything people liked in a man. He was shirtless, showing off a soft chest and the beginnings of a slightly softer stomach, but that was probably the nature of the app.

"You're...very good-looking. Nice muscles." Lawrence typed honestly, a little hesitantly, staring at the picture for a prolonged moment before swapping back to the chat.

"thanks cutie," He wrote with a beating heart emoji, making Lawrence’s own heart tighten in their chest. "how are you looking right now?"

They idly chewed the inside of their cheek and looked down at themself. 

They weren’t anything special and never considered themself to be, wearing a pair of tattered pyjama pants and a loose-fitting top printed with the warehouse’s logo. 

That probably wasn’t the vibe for this interaction, was it?

"I mean, not good like you. I'm wearing pyjamas right now."

"maybe i'll decide what looks good, hm?"

"send me something."

They felt their face flush hotter when the second message popped up, bringing the edge of their phone to their mouth with a shuddering little sigh that fogged up the cracked glass.

This was getting pretty embarrassing, but, at the same time, it was...kind of exciting.

They’d never done anything like this before, certainly not with a stranger, and…Strade had such an authoritative vibe about him without even being in the room.

They felt almost compelled to obey him, even if there was no side effect to not.

Lawrence shifted over the side of the bed and reluctantly lifted the phone for a selfie, reaching up with their other hand to cover their mouth and most of their jaw, keeping the focus on their messy hair, their sleepy eyes, their slender neck, their collar bone, the low collar of their shirt…things that they guessed Strade might like in a conversation partner.

Once they had taken the picture, they sent it over quickly before they could think too long and change their mind.

Strade responded almost immediately.

"awwww~" He wrote, with a heart eyes emoji and another angel emoji. "very cute!"

Oh God, they really weren’t used to being called cute this much.

Their heart was racing as they read the short string of messages, their pale cheeks flushing and their dead eyes fluttering a little as their thighs pressed together tightly.

"You...really think so?"

"i know so~" He complimented again. "you’re such a good girl for listening to me too <3"

'Good girl-!?'

Lawrence's heart was beating even faster now, just from that one little compliment, and they found themself sinking back against the bed and staring at the popcorn, mould-dotted ceiling, feeling all the heat in their body rush right down to their cock.

It seemed kind of...demeaning to be called a 'good girl' in this scenario, but at the same time, it felt...so amazing.

They just hoped that Strade wasn’t getting the wrong idea.

“Thank you…but I’m not a girl though.” They typed when their brain started working again, resting their phone on their chest, their legs trembling and bopping up and down, nervously.

"oh no? apologies for assuming but you do have trans stuff in your bio lol"

"you look pretty enough to be a girl. figuring stuff out?"

The instinct to cringe subsided quickly when they clicked on their profile, noticing the absence of the gender marker that Strade had (‘M’), and their pronouns (‘they/them, any/all’) listed along with their location, the only information they had provided the app, barring their picture.

"That was an accident...I didn't know what it was asking me." They typed out, explaining their mix-up.

‘Pretty enough to be a girl...’ 

They suddenly found themself feeling…warm all over as those words repeated in their head, feeling the sincerity behind them, the authenticity behind them. 

Maybe they weren’t a girl, at least, not a girl they had ever been close to before, but there was the…well, the fact that Strade had assumed their gender incorrectly several times now, and they had done nothing to correct him. 

"happy accidents, eh?" Strade replied quickly with another laughing emoji, though this one felt more fond and affectionate than the others had been. "do you like being a good girl, law?"

They swallowed tightly and managed to type out a response, their hands trembling with excitement.

"Yeah…I mean, yeah I think I do."

"thought so." Another virtual wink. This guy used a lot of emojis. "can i see something else now, angel?" He wrote, like no part of that conversation happened, and even though it was phrased like a question, Lawrence had that good sense that it was not to be taken as one.

They felt their face burning hotter than ever as they typed out a response.

"What do you want me to show you…?”

"show me your body.” 

“do you have a mirror so i can see all of you?"

Lawrence had to stop and close their eyes, knees tightly pressed together as they tried to collect themself and slow the pounding of their racing heart.

They’d never felt like this before. It felt good.

It felt good. 

Why weren’t they used to feeling good?

They took in a deep breath, trying to calm themself down, before they got to their feet and walked over to their bathroom, hesitantly taking a full-body (or, well, as close to full-body as they could manage) picture in the bathroom cabinet mirror, using the phone to cover their face and focus on their body.

They looked so…boring in the reflection, wearing that old, baggy top and those loose-fitting pants. 

Strade can’t really be that interested in them, can he?

"aw, you're so little. like you wouldn't be able to fight me off if i pinned you down <3"

Those immediate words set butterflies fluttering around in their stomach.

They were definitely not tiny by any metric, standing at almost six foot and easily taller than most of the guys in the warehouse, but the idea of being...pinned down by a stranger of all people, was making their brain short circuit.

And fine, they weren’t sure if Strade meant it in an affectionate way or…a creepy way, talking about their body like it was a piece of meat and he was an animal feeding on them, but Lawrence couldn’t think of a reason to be scared of the obvious red flags coming out of their conversation.

They swallowed past the ever-growing lump in their throat as they paced back to their bed, sitting down and trying their best to keep their responses coherent as they typed out another anxious reply.

"Oh yeah..? Think so?"

"i know so..."

God, he was quick.

"mind pulling those pants down?"

They chewed the inside of their cheek again, hesitating for maybe a moment before they began to slowly pull their pyjama bottoms down their skinny hips, exposing their boxer briefs and the bulge of their cock. 

They felt so exposed, like someone could just walk in and see them right now, and yet...

They took another picture and sent it to Strade without a word, feeling the flush spread across their face as they did so.

"those look pretty tight, baby," He wrote after a pause. "like that cute girlcock is desperate for something its not gonna get. too cute <3"

What the fuck, girlcock-?!

Every word of the message made them shiver more and more, making the aching feeling in their chest that much more intense and tight, so tight it was almost painful. 

God, they couldn’t even begin to describe how this fucking stranger was making them feel. 

They were starting to feel desperate, like he said they were, their girlcock stirring and pressing even tighter against the taut fabric of their briefs, denying them anything close to relief.

They swallowed again, their tongue poking out to wet their dry lips as they typed a needy response.

"Please…just keep talking to me like that…”

"you're such a good girl," Strade continued to praise with another beating heart emoji. "spread your legs, make those panties nice and tight for me so i can see your girlcock press up there…"

They had to close their eyes momentarily and take in a deep, shaky breath to calm themself before they even attempted a response.

It was almost hard to type with how worked up they were, how much their fucking girlcock was stirring, how much their hands were shaking. They felt so submissive and helpless, like they wouldn’t even be able to think without Strade telling them to. 

They just wanted to do whatever he told them to do.

Their legs parted as far as they could (while still framed nicely in the camera) and they jutted their hips slightly, making the thick bulge of their cock the focus of the picture. Light blonde hair covered their tummy and thighs, and they almost felt self-conscious about it, for the first time in their life.

A girl shouldn’t have that there…at least, not a good girl.

"fuck, you're killing me," He wrote with that angel emoji again. "you little tease. what i wouldn't give to have you here now."

Lawrence closed their eyes with a soft moan as they held the pose, trying to imagine what it would be like if he was here instead of just ordering them around over the phone.

They were still trembling but they couldn’t help but smile coyly to themself as they thought out another response.

"What would you do to me if I was there right now?"

"you really want to know, sweetheart?"

They swallowed hard, their grey eyes wide and unnervingly alive, and replied, almost without a thought.

"Yes. Tell me please…I want to know."

…

…

…

"i wouldn't let anyone else even get the chance to look at you, let alone touch you, before i’m through with you, lawrence"

"i'd take you down in my basement and make you scream. hurt you. cut you. fuck you even if you fought me back. ruin that cute little body and torture your girlcock until you begged me to stop."

"and i wouldn't stop <3 even if you screamed and cried and behaved like suuuuch a good girl for me, angel <3"

…

…

…

"You’d do that to me…?"

…

…

…

"yeah. i like ruining pretty things." He wrote. "and you're the prettiest thing i've seen in weeks."

Lawrence could feel themself almost trembling as they stared at their phone, their hands shaking. 

They managed to type out a response, each letter in their reply feeling like a tremendous amount of effort when their fingers were shaking like jelly, just holding onto the phone.

"You really think I’m…pretty…?"

Their heart was pounding as they waited for a reply, waited for those tell-tale orange dots to move again, their once-dead eyes wide and alive and ready for more as their head spun behind them. 

It was like they were experiencing an entirely new high, one more dangerous and more pleasurable than any drug could give them.

They could see themself getting quickly addicted to it, and knew that this addiction was sure to kill them faster than any other vice would.

“haha you're kind of a freak law," Strade seemed to tease when his reply finally popped up, though it was lacking the emojis that typically gave his teasing nature away. "i like that a lot. pretty girls are never usually as filthy as you~"

Their head canted slightly as they read the message, wetting their lips again as they reached down and idly palmed their cock, feeling the hard flesh between their long fingers and wishing that Strade was the one doing the touching instead.

Freak. Filth. Words growing on them like mould grew on spoiled food. 

They were gradually getting infected by whatever disease Strade must have had to enjoy this, and they couldn’t have been happier

They flopped back heavily on the bed with a shaky exhale, that same feeling of twisted pride they got when he called them a “good girl” washing over them.

They managed to respond with one hand occupied (still squeezing their rotten cock that was enjoying every moment of this), their fingers still trembling.

"Yeah, I’m kind of a freak I guess…”

A pretty freak…a pretty girl…

Their cock pulsed hotter.

"yeah.”

“even the most poorly-adjusted tranny has the self-respect not to put up with all of this. what's the matter, law, you don't have any of that?"

They whimpered softly and bit their lip hard (so hard, they could practically taste blood), before rolling onto their side and bringing their knees up to their heaving chest as their cock twitched incessantly between their trembling legs, their slack body shivering all over as they squeezed their thighs tightly together.

Fuck, this was so awful. So, so fucking awful.

Then why was their head pounding, their chest heaving, their cock throbbing harder and harder (and harder and harder), the worse it got?

They swallowed hard, the lump in their throat almost painful to gulp past, as they read the message again, and despite themself, they reached down and started tugging on their cock as they typed, their heart continuing to race at an impossible pace from the mix of excitement and dread at feeling so vulnerable and exposed to this man.

"Why would I want self-respect if it means I can’t talk to you…?”

"good answer <3"

They couldn’t help but smile upon reading the new text, cradling the phone to their shuddering chest with one hand, as the other tightened the hold on their cock, the veins in their wrist pulsating as it jerked up and down their length. 

God, they were just completely hooked on this fucking stranger, addicted to his praise, his threats, his dirty talk (if it could even be called that).

They lay there for a moment, just jerking themself off with wet gasps and shifting skin on skin, trying to even think of what to do next. 

Their mind was so fuzzy and filled with thoughts of Strade, Strade, Strade that they could hardly concentrate, even without the initial fuzz the weed had given them.

It was a perfect sensation.

"what are you doing now, law?"

“I’m…touching myself.”

“show me.”

Like everything else with Strade, it was phrased like a question but Lawrence knew that they didn’t have the luxury of disagreeing with him.

Like they even wanted that luxury to begin with.

They obediently moved backwards, up their bed, lying flat on their back (belly up, like a prey animal offering itself to a rightful predator) and parting their trembling thighs again, wrenching their briefs all the down their legs and taking an awkward picture of their cock in hand, the flushed head and firm length framed by the thin, milky white pillars of their scarred thighs.

They were just glad that this app didn’t have access to their storage and that any pictures exchanged in the chat wouldn’t be saved.

That would have been incredibly fucking embarrassing. 

"haha wtf you're fucking huge," Strade quickly wrote back in response, making fun of them, though, again, the message was lacking his usual emojis (as had many of the previous messages, actually). "talk about wasted potential, eh, law?"

“What do you mean, wasted potential…”

“it means when i fuck you,” When, not if, when, NOT IF. “i'm not letting you top for a single day of the rest of your wretched, little life”

They licked their lips hungrily, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Is…is that a threat…or a promise…?”

"both <3"

God.

GOD. 

They felt like they were going insane.

They just wanted more and more of his words, wanted to take everything this man was saying to them and amplify it, make it worse, make it despicable, diabolical, disgusting, more, more, more-

“God, I hope so…” They typed, the jerking of their wrist faster as heat coiled up, hot and tight, in their belly. “You make me feel like I’m losing my mind…”

"won't need a mind for what i'm planning for you, sweetheart"

“Fuck…” They stammered softly to themself, words falling past their parted lips in a helpless whimper, as they squeezed their cock harder, a thick bead of pre-cum drooling over their bony knuckles. They didn’t touch themself that often, all of their saved videos were no longer able to scratch the itch of their deadened arousal, but now, they were feeling it, so close, so desperate-

“i want you to stop touching yourself now, law”

Their hand stilled instantly, their pale brows knitting together as another typing bubble popped up.

“you don’t work weekends, do you?”

They swallowed hard, typing out a reply while anticipating the next message.

“No, not usually…why?”

“you know the braying mule in town? just next to that new whole foods?” Donkey emoji, beer glass emoji, wilting leaf emoji.

Lawrence took a moment to think about the spot Strade was describing. 

It wasn’t too far from the warehouse, now that they were thinking about it, in a slightly sketchier place in town that was facing a wave of gentrification (hence the Whole Foods that they, unfortunately, did frequent for tea ingredients and discount granola).

“Yeah…?”

“are you gonna meet me there next saturday?”

Once again, phrased like a question but Lawrence knew there was no option to say no.

Like they would have said no.

“I guess I am.”

“good girl.” Angel emoji, beating heart emoji. “and are you going to give yourself anyyyy relief before then?”

He was teasing again, and the praise and indirect order was enough to send another pulse of heat to their cock, making it that much more painful and unsatisfying when they let go of it and lay back on the bed.

“I…guess I’m not.”

“she’s smart for a poorly-adjusted faggot, isn’t she?”

God, he was just so demeaning, and they were absolutely obsessed with it.

That warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of their stomach was back, and it felt even stronger than before. 

They almost had to resist the urge to bite their bottom lip and start jerking off again…and they could only muster the shakiest of responses.

“Yeah…she is.”

“such a good girl, law.” He wrote, and Lawrence could practically see the shit-eating grin on his handsome face. “i’m looking forward to meeting you <3”

“Me too…”

[selectivechaos]

so many things ‘go Wrong’ in social interactions when you have social anxiety. my brain always evaluate afterwards. never misses a chance to tell me what ‘went wrong’. made a sound, moved awkwardly, bumped into someone etc.

thing is, when these things happen consecutively, with no chance to reconcile with yourself afterwards, it makes you feel very unsafe, and keeps u in that anxiety response. and then youre stuck in a cage of self-deprecation.

i try to use fork theory. like tons of tiny forks sticking in me. i take a pause. go out for a breath of fresh air. or lie down in dark room for a bit. or listen to a particular song that ive always only listened to when calm. i take that fork out, so they don’t build up.

and when i can’t take them out; because they just keep coming, i reconcile it once i get out the situation. sit with my brain and tell it it’s safe now.

and when there’s one big fork. for example a couple of years ago, there was a Deeply Embarassing Situation for me (due to my social anxiety. in objective truth, it was a positive situation that anyone else would have been happy about). when there’s an event so painful and causing so much anxiety and rumination, i slowly try to wedge out the fork. that takes such a long long time. but it will go. for example, yesterday i actually spent time with a person i never thought i could face again because i spoke to them once.

post event rumination is long and hard; may take couple of months or years. but it will end. 🌹🌹