#not things you call yourself or things that are inherently part of you that you cant change

[urghost-andurboo]

Hiya! I was wondering if you knew of any literature about reforming the psych system because I agree its broken AF and as someone who's a part of it I want to be able to do better. No worries if not, I just saw posts you've reblogged and thought you'd be a good person to ask!

i do have some recommendations!

"mind fixers: psychology's troubled search for the biology of mental illness" by anne harrington and "comfortably numb: how psychiatry is medicating a nation" by charles barber both give a history of the medicalization of mental illness and critique the biomedical model. (hint: there's a lot of BAD science that makes up the core of psychiatry - the evidence for there being a biological basis for mental illness and psych meds working at all is very flimsy.)

the disorderland podcast debunks bad science, especially pop science, talks about the commodification of mental health, and explores whether the symptoms we pathologize are actually symptoms.

"madness and oppression" by fireweed collective is a workbook that helps you see how you're not crazy -- you're oppressed. it looks at how what a psychologist/psychiatrist would consider a symptom is actually a very rational and normal response to being oppressed.

"on your own: patient-controlled alternatives to the mental health system" by judi chamberlain is written by a psych survivor, and goes into her own experiences as well as what alternatives exist to the system. great for learning about peer support!

"stolen" by elizabeth gilpin is a memoir by a psych survivor. she was abducted and taken to a "treatment" program in Appalachia, then went to a boarding school that functioned more like a prison with abusive group therapy. this one's good for humanizing mental illness BUT can be triggering as hell to psych survivors - so proceed with caution.

"the zyprexa papers" by jim gottstein is probably my favorite on the list, it's about how the antipsychotic zyprexa causes diabetes and metabolic disorders, and is still commonly prescribed (this is how i got diabetes). it shows how psych med regulations are not enforced, especially since zyprexa is often prescribed off-label for conditions it hasn't been shown to be clinically effective for, and has led to death in some cases.

madinamerica.com is a good site to explore for psych abolition, debunking psychology research, new psychology research that centers patient's autonomy and rights, and personal accounts of mental illness. it's been around for a decade so there's a lot of quality content to sift through!

i also recommend reading about peer support and peer respite houses - i don't have any particular books or articles about them, but that can be a good jumping off point to looking for an alternative model to the current psych system.

[wwwyzzerdd420]

I want to be heard but I don't want to be screamed at

[snekdood]

i just struggle to believe theres any ethical way to harvest meat. farm animal dying of old age? yeah. ok. sure. but farm animals aren't going to be perpetually dying of old age enough to fulfill the demand for their meats. you can make better and more convincing arguments to me for ethically harvesting eggs, wool and milk rather than meat.

[ventbloglite]

I think we need to sit down and talk about malgendering.

Not misgendering, malgendering.

We all know what misgendering means. Misgendering is when a trans person (or to be honest, even a cis person) has their gender denied to them in some fashion by implying, suggesting or outright stating that their gender is actually Something Else and not the one they identify as.

e.g. A trans woman being told she cannot attend a certain class because it's 'just for women'.

Malgendering is when the trans persons gender is not questioned or denied and may even be affirmed - but only in a context in which it can be used against them in some fashion (to make judgements on them as a person, to exclude them from something, to incite bigotry towards them etc).

e.g. That same trans woman taking her shirt off on a hot day and being arrested for indecent exposure.

This is misgendering;- "You're not a woman, you're a man." This is malgendering;- "Trans women are women, so obviously they exist to serve men."* *obvs it is also transmisogyny and all malgendering is transphobia.

But what you don't want to hear is that malgendering is a form of transphobia mainly used against trans masculine people and nonbinary people.

Most people recognise malgendering when it's;

Using the term 'theyfab' to ridicule an agender person or making jokes about how an agender they/them user looks (to you) to be a completely cis woman.

But you need to look out for how;

Malgendering is treating trans men like their transition has turned them into women-hating predators because of your own predjudices towards men/trans man were always inherently women-hating predators because maleness is what makes you those things not your actual thoughts, words and actions.

Malgendering is not listening to how trans masc people are marginalised 'because men aren't oppressed though' as if that's not ignoring a huge part of their identity (the being trans part) and how that works.

Malgendering is telling trans men 'this is just what it's like to be a man, people treat you like shit and you have to take it or not transition'.

Malgendering is insisting that any trans man who calls any attention to the fact that he is indeed, trans, and has/had female anatomy and faces misogyny due to being raised and still perceived (by transphobes) as a woman is misgendering himself, all other trans men and 'weaponising his AFABness'

All of this is transphobia. All of this is bigotry. This kind of predjudice and bullying doesn't magically become 'OK' once you find the 'right' group to do it to. You either want to end bigotry and transphobia and identity-specific targetted hate or you want to perpetuate it. But you can't call yourself a trans ally, or escape the bigotry allegations whilst malgendering people. And no you're not being sneaky by slipping in your hateful predjudice comments and actions whilst validating their gender.

Malgendering is transphobia.

[autisticlee]

About the label thing. I agree with you. Recently I've read a book where someone argued against labels (and autism diagnosis etc) claiming that labels hold people back. As if someone who would get an autism diagnosis wouldn't act autistic if they're not labelled autistic... That author believes that if you believe in something enough it comes true so if you say you can't do something it's your fault for not believing you can do it... Like of course positivity and trying out things has it's place but some take it too far so that accepting realistic limitations is out of the picture. Like realistically there are things people just have a harder time with compared to someone who isn't autistic. Besides people who say don't make autism your personality, didn't people already have that personality before getting the label that explains the behaviour and personality type...

sounds like toxic positivity to me. which can be just as harmful as being too negative. some people really don't get that and think being realistic or honest = negativity and think toxic positivity is the Right/Only way.

but seriously. the reason I got diagnosed with autism is because I wanted to know the reason why I had autistic traits and was severely struggling in life and couldn't make them go away no matter how hard I tried. i'm not acting autistic because I was told I am lmao it's always been here

[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[tofixtheshadows]

You guys really need to stop and consider the ways you're talking about Kabru I am dead fucking serious. Like I know that flattening characters is just what fandom does to a certain extent, but Kabru's actual personality is getting lost to the fandom hivemind insisting that he's aggressive/cruel/sociopathic/hateful, and these are particularly concerning takes to see leveled at the only brown character in the main cast day after day. "My poor sweet golden child Laios needs to be protected from this scary brown man" is not a good look! Like, it's very telling that the bulk of the hate and bad faith readings are reserved for Toshiro and Kabru. Everyone else's flaws get to be discussed and validated and forgiven (or erased), meanwhile people are straight making up things to be mad about with Toshiro and Kabru but patting themselves on the back for being smart.

The worst part is how undeserved it all is. I'm trying to lay off anime-onlys because we're still kind of in the red herring stage of getting to know Kabru, but I would still like to gently suggest that even if you think Kabru is up to something, you don't gave to get in the tags of every fan creator's post and bring up how you hate him or You Can Tell he's totally evil. Sometimes I think Kabru's blue eyes give people license to say things about his appearance that they know would sound completely racist otherwise, but referring to his blue eyes acts as a get-out-of-racism free card. The jokes about the dog with brown contacts are getting old, by the way.

For people who have read the manga, it's disappointing. Kabru is one of the most complex and important characters in the story, and if you base your interpretation of him and all your fandom interactions on shallow first impressions you are completely missing out.

I know part of this is because Dungeon Meshi is a comedy, but the story also wants to be taken seriously. For example, it's admittedly really funny when Chilchuck calls Laios "sick in the head", but that doesn't change the fact that the way Chilchuck casually belittles Laios caused him to hide the fact that he was "hallucinating" from his friends for weeks. Those feelings matter.

Like, this

is funny.

But this?

Is not. This is just a very clear example of a brown boy with PTSD. As someone else with PTSD, just looking at this fucking sucks, man.

The only reason why Kabru thinks about killing Laios is because he is in the middle of a flashback. He's struggling through a panic attack. If he truly wanted to kill Laios because he's violent or because he finds Laios inherently annoying, he wouldn't otherwise talk with Laios normally. Notice how he doesn't act this way at any other point in the story- it's just because he's triggered by monsters. Even when he's thinking about his plans to "deal with" Laios later, he's reluctant to actually kill him and only considers it to prevent another tragedy. Despite his deadly skills, Kabru relies far more on "soft" power- insight, persuasion, diplomacy. He's a rare example of a character who absolutely is, or at least can be, manipulative, but seems to use his abilities for good. He's not a pathological liar, he isn't looking down on everyone behind a smile. He's someone who is extremely emotionally intelligent, and he's willing to put aside all his own basic wants and needs to stop the cycle of dungeons devouring humans.

I'm going to cut a potential thesis on his character short and just give some examples of things that fandom should consider about his personality more:

Racism in fandom isn't just about whitewashing in fan art, or using racial slurs. The insidiousness of bad faith readings, reductions to racist tropes, lack of fan content for characters of color, and dismissal of a character's complexity are far more common. You can believe yourself to be completely neutral or even positive about a character and still churn out low-grade bile about them into fandom's collective unconscious. Fandom reflects real life.

And I have been around fandom long enough to see how these behaviors (mostly from my fellow white fans) affect fans of color, how it makes a fandom feel hostile and unwelcome to them. It's fun to make jokes and memes, I'm absolutely not saying that everything needs to be a deeply nuanced take, but we need to be careful that it doesn't veer into toxicity. Please think about how our contributions to fandom come across, and what sort of vibes they cultivate in this communal space.

[mortalityplays]

incendiary take time. I think part of the reason some people are gunning so hard for platforms to outright ban AI art/writing is that they've cultivated communities of taste that eschew critical evaluation and hold all ('human-made') creative works to be innately worthy and valuable by merit of being made by a very special little guy. when you're not allowed to say 'this isn't very good' or 'this doesn't mean anything' because that's mean / the artist didn't ask / taste is subjective / the divine comedy is basically fanfiction, you sacrifice the most basic reason AI art sucks (that it...sucks) and HAVE to resort to gerrymandering the definition of art to eliminate it from the pool of inherently unique and laudable creative expression.

when you can't say 'this chatGPT dreck is complete shit', either because there's no air in the room for calling anything shit or because you've spent so long playing nursery school compliment games with your fellow artists that you don't have the vocabulary or insight to identify 1. that it's shit 2. why it's shit, all you can do is demand that nobody ever shows it to you. because if they do you might be tricked, and if you're tricked you might embarrass yourself by liking something profane. and if you like something the machine made...well, then human art isn't innately special and divine at all, is it bud? maybe the thing that makes it good is a level of craft, thought, insight and articulation that we should all be conversant in.

but that means we all have to accept that not everything we make is perfect. that means we have to take criticism on the chin. yucky. let's police the purity of people's workflows instead. everyone knows only moral upright artists make good art.

[stench-core]

I find it a bit strange how it's okay and normal to say trans men have 'afab privilege' but if you say trans women have 'amab privilege', that's bad and wrong and incorrect and also maybe you should kill yourself. strange stuff

somehow trans men were 'socialised female' and therefore can 'get away with being women' but trans women were not 'socialised male' and can't 'get away with being men' cos there's something inherently feminine, inherently queer about them.

though, i spent my whole life being called gay, getting asked if i was a butch lesbian, getting asked if i was a tranny, cos i wore pants [girls!] instead of skirts, cos i wore shirts [girls!] instead of blouses, cos i wouldn't wear dresses and would prefer [girls!] formal wear that weren't dresses, cos i liked bionicle instead of dolls, cos i played video games, cos i swore, cos i liked heavier music, cos my favourite colour wasn't pink, cos i wore caps. i would not say i fit into girlhood at all, actually.

but this masculinity was inherent to me, it still is, i couldn't and can not change it (despite trying, very hard, to my detriment) so i ALWAYS stuck out as being 'too masculine' for other girls. and then i come into queer spaces and i'm 'too masculine' for other queer people - but that's besides the point, currently.

so, currently, when i see people say 'trans women aren't "socialised male," that's not real, they always stick out as "other"' and then turn around and say 'trans men have afab privilege, they can be women to get away with things, they fit into girlhood so well' I can't help but become incredibly fucking frustrated. this is not true and actually it's something we have in common! neither of us were socialised 'correctly' cos we're both trans and raised amongst peers who were not trans!

everything from masculine girls to trans men do not fit into 'girlhood' cos masculinity is not what girlhood is meant to be. this shouldn't be hard to grasp. this is why the 'socialised' concept is bullshit cos it's founded on whatever was forced upon you as a kid and if you don't fit that standard you will not be socialised that way due to, in large part, being fucking ostracised from everyone else. and that doesn't mean there won't be things to unlearn, i know very many trans men who were very feminine for a long time and the opposite for trans women, but someone who clearly cannot fit what's being pushed onto them is going to come off as 'strange' and 'uncanny' to the people who can fit into what's pushed onto them.

but the way people talk about this really highlights to me that yous don't want to consider us trans in the first place - transness is for trans women and not for trans men, socialisation concepts are fake when it comes to trans women but real when it comes to trans men cos they're not really trans, 'amab privilege' would get you branded a TERF or radfem saying it to a trans woman but it's fine to say trans men, trans men have 'afab privilege' cos we're not trans, we're just women. you know until we get a little too rowdy and then we're not trans, we're just men.

maybe i'm just jaded and bitter. idk

[dollfacefantasy]

INFECTED WITH INFATUATION ♡

pairing: carlos oliveira x fem!reader

summary: you and carlos are out on a mission when you come into contact with an unfamiliar plant specimen. the effects are unexpected to say the least.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon (cause of the pollen), sex pollen, breeding kink, overstimulation

wc: 6k

a/n: omggg kinktober already over halfway done. crazyyy. i hope you guys like this one. it was fun to write so thank you to the person who requested. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 17 - sex pollen

"Carlos, watch out!" you shout.

Your partner, the man you called out to, takes heed of your warning as soon as it hits his ears. He ducks down, giving you a clear shot at the overgrown spider crawling down the hedged corridor at the two of you. The moment you have a lock on the target, you shoot. You never hesitate in the field. It only took you one day of dealing with bioweapons to learn that lesson.

Your finger presses down on the trigger of your gun hard, firing multiple rounds right at the creature. The bullets tear through its flesh. Its limbs fumble, and it crumples to the ground. Your heart slows down a little. The sight of its death helps to calm your nerves.

Carlos pops back up, his black hair swishing out of his face with the motion. He turns to you with an approving smirk across his lips.

"Nice work, sharpshooter," he says.

You roll your eyes at the nickname. He'd given it to you after your first mission together in which you encountered an infected dog and managed to miss every single shot you fired at the thing. It had been first day nerves you insisted, and so far, that had proven to be true. But that wouldn't stop Carlos from making fun of you.

The two of you walk over to the deceased organism. You silently thank every possible higher power that this mission is almost over. There's only one more sector after this one, and then the two of you are done for a few weeks.

You hesitate to get too close to the arachnid. Even though it lies there motionless, some sort of innate survival instinct told you no. Your eyes scan it with disgust, looking at the coarse hairs and the multitude of eyes. Gross. You would just have to step around the thing.

With extreme caution, you traverse over its large legs. You wonder what kind of psychopath would want to engineer spiders and make them this big. Your feet land firmly on the ground with every stride you take. The absolute worst case scenario here would be falling over onto it and finding out it still has some life left. Another few steps though, and you're in the clear.

However, your partner apparently does not possess the same inherent fear of spiders you do. He walks over the dead thing without any extra care. In the process, his boot catches on the end of its thorax.

You watch as a baby spider bursts from it and bolts away from the body, making a beeline towards you. And you know it's ridiculous. You know it's humiliating. But you scream.

You're not sure if it's because it's tinier and faster or because it's appearance is so sudden. Either way, you shriek. You recoil before you can control your reaction. Shooting at it would probably be smarter, but in your panic, you don't want to blow a hole through Carlos's foot. You just jerk back and accidentally send yourself tumbling into a bush.

Luckily, he's quick to get to it, not discharging his weapon at all. He simply stomps on it with his large boot. It squishes beneath the sole and splatters on the dirt. His eyes then turn to you in the foliage.

Laughing a little, he heads over to you and parts the leaves. He looks at you with that same smug expression and extends a hand.

"Need some help down there?" he asks.

You glare at him but still accept the offer. It would be easier to get out of this mess of branches and little pink flowers with his aid. You reach out and wrap your fingers around his palm, feeling the warmth of it in your grasp. He pulls you up, and you shamefully watch his bicep flex as he does.

On the way to your feet though, he hisses in pain.

"Ah, fuck," he mutters, letting go of you as soon as you're upright.

He pulls back and brings his arm to his body, holding it there and examining the source of pain. You step closer to try and look too. Your eyes catch the sight of the injury almost right away. It would be hard for anyone to miss.

A red stripe spans from the outer side of his forearm to up just past his elbow. The ending of the cut seems like a deep gash while the beginning is only a thin line. Blood already begins to trickle onto his skin. It looks like a thorn had snagged him while helping you off the ground.

You pull a small cloth from the pouch attached to your belt.

"Here, let me see," you offer, your voice softer as your mind snaps into a more caring frame. It's the one you used to use everyday when you worked as a medic. Before you had been roped into this mess with mercenaries.

He offers his limb up to you without resistance. If there was anyone he trusted to look at him, it was you. After most missions, he stayed with the doctors Umbrella provided for the mandatory observation period, but you were the one to actually patch him up. With you, there were no ulterior motives or chances of being double-crossed. You wanted to help people, and that's what you did for him.

You do it right now as you take the small piece of material and dab up the crimson fluid seeping from his wound. He grunts as you get closer to the source.

"Sorry," you say. You try extra to remain gentle, lightly swiping at the edges of the injury. "Looks like a piece of the plant caught you. I can take a better look at it later, but for now, you should be fine. You're not bleeding too much," you tell him.

He nods and gets back to holding his weapon in the proper position. The two of you continue onward in the direction of your target. You only hope you've seen the last of those spiders.

Fortunately, your wish had been granted. You and Carlos hadn't encountered any more spiders, big or small, for the rest of the mission. The path to the objective from the sight of the last one had been pretty easy, presenting no real challenges.

The two of you made it back to the nearest Umbrella base for the night following a short ride there. You had to get checked out first and now stay overnight for the waiting period as was the procedure for all field operatives. The idea was to ensure you all didn't harbor any infections that remained undetected during the examination. But after that, you'd be home free.

You'd already completed the mandatory screening with the doctor. After finding nothing out of the ordinary, you headed to the assigned room they'd given you for the next twelve hours. It was pretty small, just a bed, table, chair, and shelf. You didn't need anything more though.

You change out of your grimy cargo pants and black sweater and pull on a much more comfortable pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt matching in color. Laying on the stiff mattress, you take a few moments to decompress from the earlier events. Your body seems to hold a dull ache all over, something you attribute to the heightened stress you experienced for hours on end. Your adrenaline has started to wear off, and as it recedes, the ability to feel in entirety returns.

Some time goes by, and Carlos knocks on the frame of your door. It feels like only moments have passed, but in reality, you're sure it's closer to thirty minutes. You look up at him with curious eyes.

"You need something?" you ask.

He walks in, and you see he's also changed. A charcoal t-shirt covers his upper body while gray sweatpants adorn his waist. You try to keep your gaze casual although it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that he looks statuesque in them.

"I was wondering if you're too tired to take another look?" he asks.

Sitting up, you pat the space next to you on the small bed. "Never too tired for my favorite patient," you answer with a small smile.

He returns the fond expression and takes a seat. You take your medical pouch off the table next to the bed. Unzipping it, you pull out the few things you predict you'll need. He rolls up his sleeve even though it's not necessary, allowing you to see his arm in full glory.

"You know they do have doctors here. Ones with much better equipment than me," you say teasingly as you rip open a small cleaning wipe.

He looks at you and shrugs. "I doubt they'd know how to use it as well," he says.

You shake your head and rub the alcohol-soaked patch across his wound. He hisses from the sting but manages to hold still. Your fingers work as quickly as they can, not wanting to prolong his suffering. You clean the dried blood off and make sure the open cut has been completely tended to. But your eyes narrow as you look at his skin.

"The doctors did look at you, right?" you ask.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

"They cleared you?" you check.

And he nods. Maybe he was right not to trust them.

"Well, this doesn't really look normal," you say with uncertainty, "You have some discoloration around the cut. Your veins look a bit darker than they should. It could be an infection."

His eyes find yours. You can see in his stare that he's looking for reassurance.

"Does it hurt at all?" you continue.

"No. I mean, a little. Feels like I have a giant scrape on my arm. But not more than normal," he says.

A puff of air leaves your nose as you try to think. "Hm. You might be ok then, could be just some abnormal pigmentation," you offer, "I've never seen an infection manifest this fast, but if it were already showing, you'd probably have some symptoms too."

"So you think I'll live?" he jokes.

You scoff and nudge his arm away, putting up a playful front. 

"Don't ask me that," you say. 

In truth, you didn't want to think about Carlos dying. You'd seen so many people die since joining this task force. Your worst fear when coming into work was seeing that happen to the one you care most about.

"Alright," he concedes and surrenders, but his attitude doesn't dampen any.

You pull up your small roll of gauze next and begin to bandage him up. With careful hands, you rotate the thin material around his forearm, making sure to cover the entire scratch in a durable layer. The room is so quiet. There's no sounds except for the two of you breathing. You're tempted to say something and cut through the silence, but you don't. The moment feels intimate. It feels wrong to try and interrupt it.

When you finish wrapping his arm, you tear the gauze and tuck it under to keep it in place. Clearing your throat, you pat his shoulder and give him another sweet smile.

"All done," you say.

"Do I get a reward for being so well-behaved?" he asks. His voice lowers, and he leans in the slightest bit closer to you.

Heat blooms in your stomach and spreads up to your chest, but you'd never let him see the effect he has on you.

"Get outta here," you say and give him a light push.

He laughs and rises to his feet. He heads over to the door but doesn't leave before turning back to look at you again.

"Thanks, sharpshooter," he says.

"You got it, soldier," you respond with a small mock salute.

He shuts the door behind him after that. You put your things back in your pouch and lay back in bed again. A sudden wave of tiredness crashes into you. Sighing, you rub your face and yawn. Tonight it didn't seem like you'd have any trouble sleeping, a rare blessing as of late.

Rolling over, you wince as you feel a small burst of pain in the back of your thigh. You're so exhausted though that you chalk it up to a pulled muscle and resign to check it out when you wake. All you really want to do right now is knock out until the sun is up and the transport vehicle is ready to drop you off at the airport to go home.

It's still dark out when your eyes flutter open. The lids feel heavy with sleep. Your brain wants to be unconscious again, but something has pulled you from the comfort of sleep. It might be the fact that you're burning up.

Your entire body feels as though fire rages within it. Sweat coats your skin and causes your t-shirt to stick to you. You can feel your pillowcase beneath your head damp with it. You sit up, but you have to do so slowly because of how the simple motion causes the room to spin. You try to blink the dizziness away to no avail.

Once you're upright, you feel more conscious though. You're able to better assess your symptoms and maybe pinpoint the cause. You register that you feel tingly. Fizzling sparks rampage all throughout your body; though, the most intense area seems to be the back of your thigh. You peel down your sweats a bit and arch your back to try and get a look.

Your eyes widen as you find a puncture wound with the same discoloration you saw on Carlos.

Fuck, you must have landed on a thorn in that bush and not realized it with everything else going on. Panic rushes through you at the thought of being infected with something that shows symptoms so fast, but a more intense surge of it floods you when you realize that this means Carlos has it too.

You try to get out of bed to go inform him of your discovery, but a round of cramps doubles you over and has you curling up on the twin-sized mattress to ride out the pain. Small whimpers exit your lips. They were so intense, worse than any period cramps or stomach aches you'd ever experienced.

They start to ease up after about a minute, but it's then that you begin to notice the constant throbbing between your thighs. In the midst of all this other stuff coming to light in your groggy condition, you hadn't really noted how consistent it was, but it seems to have grown stronger after that bout of pain.

A strong pulse emanates from your clit. You whine and shove your hand in your panties to try and rub it away. A few strokes bring little pleasure, but not enough to ward it off for good.

You realize your breasts feel heavy too. With every breath you take, they call out for a pair of hands to cup them and squeeze them, to fondle them and toy with your nipples. Just some form of stimulation.

Your legs bend up to your chest while your hand still fruitlessly fumbles around between your thighs. You whimper in frustration now. These symptoms are unlike any of the infections you've encountered in your career. You're not sure what to do.

As you're trying to formulate some sort of plan, your door opens. Carlos stumbles in. He looks to be in the same condition as you. The gray fabric of his t-shirt is soaked in sweat at the underarms and neckline. His skin glimmers in the dim light while he looks at you with hooded eyes. The door shuts behind him, and the air between you feels thick. His scent drifts to you across the room, making you squeeze your thighs together hard with desire.

It takes everything you have to not lunge across the room and pounce on him like an animal in heat. From the strained expression on his face, it's not a wild guess to imagine he feels similar. He's panting, leaning against the wall for support.

"Safe to say we're infected with something, huh?" he chokes out.

You turn your head and nod against your pillow, unable to bring yourself to look at him anymore. If you did that, you wouldn't be able to control your reaction.

"What should we do?" he asks.

You have no clue how he's managing to stand or speak or even think through these questions. All your mind can conjure at the moment are visions of him on top of you. They're so vivid you can almost feel the sensations of them. You see him above you with your legs over his shoulders, plowing into your cunt with no reserve or hesitation. Visions of you on your stomach also flash through your mind. You picture him with an iron grip on your hips, pumping his thick, meaty cock into your dripping hole over and over and over.

It's enough to bring a moan out of you. Carlos winces at the sound, and he approaches your bed. You're visibly faring worse than him. Maybe it's because you have a puncture wound, and he has a simple scratch. Or maybe it's just a difference in your biology. You're not sure, and there's no way you're going to figure it out while you feel like this.

He cautiously lays a hand on your arm, and you moan again. But this time the sound is so much needier. It echoes between the four walls of this small bedroom, the volume enough to cause concern that you would wake other employees here. He pulls his hand back and looks down at you. Your hips rock on your hand, humping it desperately in an attempt for friction.

Your eyes crack open and cast onto him. You intend to look up at his face, but with where he's standing, right at eye level is the huge tent in his pants.

His cock strains against the gray material. You can see the outline perfectly. The sight makes your mouth water. You don't know what's happening with you. Sure, you'd always found Carlos attractive. Maybe you could say you have a little crush on him, but it was never anything so raw. You thought he was charming more than anything. Never before had you just wanted to tear off both your own and his clothes and start going at it.

He sees where your eyes lock on, and he feels a strong burst of arousal in his stomach.

"Hey, hey. Look at me," he instructs and pushes you by the shoulder onto your back.

You look up into his eyes. Your mind finds peace in them. They're serene and calm and offer a sense of comfort despite every other part of your body going haywire.

Your own hand reaches up and wraps around his wrist. You tug his palm down onto your breast. His brows raise, but he makes no move to pull it away. Instead, he gives the mound a squeeze, relishing the way you arch your back and mewl for him.

"Wait," he tries to resist, tries to be the responsible one, "Are you sure we should... do this kind of stuff? What if it makes this worse? We don't know what's happening yet."

If you weren't so wound up, you'd probably laugh at the way he poses the question. The man who could flirt with you like there was no tomorrow asking if you should do "stuff." But you don't laugh because "stuff" is all you want to do.

"I don't know what's happening. All I know is I need you," you rasp and start pulling his arm more, trying to get his entire body on top of your own.

He half indulges you, beginning to climb on the bed before stopping above you. Looking down at your lust-stricken form, he wants you so bad. His cock leaks precum with the urge to just slip inside. But at the same time, Carlos does like you. Really likes you. It isn't a maybe with him - he has a crush on you. And while thoughts of you spread beneath him happen to be what he jerks off to each morning in the shower, part of him can't help worrying that if he takes advantage of this, things between you two will shift and fracture.

"Are... are you sure?" he asks. Words are hard when your scent clouds the air around him and you look up at him with needy eyes like this.

You want to tell him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless already, but your lust-stricken brain seems to comprehend that in order to get fucked dumb, you have to handle his concerns first.

"I want it. I need you inside me. Please just give it to me," you whine. Your legs squirm, and you tug on him again. He's still hesitant. Looking into his eyes, you whimper, "You'll still be my favorite."

And that's apparently good enough for him. That brief statement of reassurance shatters the thin pane of resistance he had left. After hearing those words, he collapses on top of you in a flurry of passion. His lips collide with yours. He pants against your face and squeezes your hips.

Your tongues meet and slide against each other as your mouths move. One of your hands slides around the back of his head to grip his shaggy, dark locks. He groans and bucks his hips against your thigh. Your other hand rubs his chest, fingers digging into the muscle with desire.

He leans back for a split second and rips off his shirt. Under more delicate circumstances, you probably would have admired his sculpted figure. You would have traced your fingertips along the defined lines of his abs, swirled the delicate pads around his nipples and up to his collarbone. 

But not right now.

You don't possess the ability to move with that much focus or care right now. Instead, you reach out and pull him back down again, almost crushing yourself with his bulky frame. It's worth it though because you lick up his happy trail, tracing your tongue over the contours of his muscles. He moans from the light touch before scooting down so he can remove your shirt and have access to your breasts.

"Look at these. Fuck," he says in awe. He gropes them, hands rough as they feel up the plump flesh.

He lowers himself on top of you again and kisses down your collarbone to your chest. You whimper as his mouth glides over the swells of your breasts before latching onto one nipple. He sucks with fervor, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the task. You gasp and moan. Between your legs, he ruts against the mattress.

His tongue swirls around your stiffening bud. He laves the smooth wetness over it a few times before switching to the other and giving it the same treatment.

"Been wanting to see these tits so fuckin' bad," he mumbles.

"You have?" you whimper, still squirming from the attention directed at your chest.

"Course I have. Those tight little sweaters you wear, the way they bounce every time you fucking move. God, drives me crazy," he mutters.

He spends some more time on your breasts before relenting and shoving down his sweats. His cock all but jumps out, eager for some attention as well.

"I've been wanting to see that so bad," you breathe.

You have to rub your thighs together once you get a look at his length. It's long and meaty just like you predicted. There are prominent veins spanning from the base upward. The tip is already leaking for you, oozing sticky white precum. His heavy balls hang below. All you can think about is how bad you need them drained inside of you.

He tears off your soaked panties and wastes no time slotting himself at your wanting hole. With both of you in frenzies of carnality, there's no teasing. He doesn't rub it over your folds or work himself in. No. In one go, he slams himself inside. A deep, guttural sound rumbles in his chest while a breathy whine erupts from you.

Your eyes roll back while your toes curl down below. You nearly cum from that stroke alone. He just fits you so perfectly. Even through the amorous fog that clouds your mind, you can't help wondering why you didn't do this sooner.

Just like in the flashes you saw minutes ago, his hands clamp around your waist. He doesn't take time to set a pace or give you a few moments to adjust to the girth of him. As soon as he's had the first taste of that warm, wet heat, he's slamming in and out of your little pussy with no thought.

His hot skin slaps against yours. Both of you pant with exertion while the cot below you scrapes against the concrete floor. Your legs bend upwards and you hold them to make sure nothing gets in the way of his thrusts.

Each time his cock slides all the way in, you think you see heaven. Your vision blots with white and then splotches of color. Your brain feels as though it's melting out your ears in the most blissful sensation. You're pretty sure you don't actually need thoughts anymore. Why would you when this seems like the only thing you'll wanna do ever again?

You bounce around with his strength pounding against you. Your head bobbles while your tits sway up and down. His head has been tilted back for a while, but he drops it now to look at the sight of you before him.

"Fuck, baby. You take my dick like you were made for it," he grunts.

Your walls squeeze him tight as a reward for saying that. He groans and fucks into you harder. The rhythm breaks for a moment. He has to slow down to deliver the small collection of particularly harsh thrusts.

With each one, his tip rams further inside you. The fourth one strikes some trigger inside you that rips a yelp from you and rockets you over the edge. Your body shudders hard beneath him while your walls spasm desperately.

"Hnghhh- Carlos- ah! You're fuckinmesogood," you babble out, eyes drooping so much they're practically closed.

You hear him growl above you and then feel his weight collapse onto your body. Your thighs are smooshed between the two of you, keeping you bent in half. He's as deep as physically possible now. That you're certain of. His cock kisses the opening of your womb with each jolt of his pelvis, making you cry out in an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.

His head closes in on yours, connecting the two of you in a sloppy kiss. You move without sense. Every action stems from a place of pure desire.

He knows he's getting close. And he also knows he should pull out. But he honestly doesn't know if he can right now. He's burning so hot for you that in his head, the loss of your tight walls wrapped around him may seriously result in death. It doesn't just feel good, it's pure euphoria. He's not even at the peak yet, but this feeling right now is more intense than any orgasm he's had before.

"Fuck-" he growls, trying to work up the will to slide back and burst on your stomach instead. His mouth falls away from yours, landing against the crook of your neck. "You're making this so hard for me, sweetheart," he grumbles.

You're so shaky and blissed out that the words almost pass you by, but his close proximity allows you to catch them. You know what he means without him having to say it because you feel it too. A deep yearning in the most carnal recesses of your soul, a craving for him to sate the most base desire burning within you.

"Just do it," you whimper, lazily rolling your hips up, "Cum inside."

His muscles tense. You can feel them twitching against you.

"Don't say that," he breathes.

A petulant whine seeps from between your lips. You pull him closer by the shoulders with more force, digging your nails into the skin.

"Finish inside, Carlos. Pleaseeeeee," you try again, "I'll worry about it later. Just need you to fill me up so fucking bad."

His resolve chips away piece by piece with each strike from your pleas. Reasons to detach from you that had seemed logical moments ago lose whatever little appeal they had. His mind feels overcome by the desire to pump you full of his release, to fuck his seed deep inside your awaiting cunt, to let it take.

With a rough snap, he throws his head back and groans. His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your hips. The high overcomes him in a powerful blow, whisking the air from his lungs. It makes him feel lightheaded, actions completely guided by impulse created under the influence of whatever that plant had sapped into the two of you.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot against your inner walls. You whine at the sensation, eyes fluttering and rolling back in satisfaction. He works it into you over and over till the urge is sated.

Finally, he feels like he won't lose all capability to function if he pulls out. He eases his hips back, slowly freeing himself from the sinful confines of your slick walls. Every inch he reveals shimmers with the combined gloss of his and your fluids. It coats the area between your thighs thoroughly, marking the site of your connection.

While the throbbing in your clit and the burning throughout your bones has lessened, dull remnants of them remain. Your chest puffs up and down as you catch your breath and recover from the intensity of before. The air still feels thick, just less like a landmine than before.

But when you gaze down between the two of you, your eyes land on his cock. He's still fully hard. The shaft stands forward proudly while the tip remains darkened in color. His need for more of you plainly visible to anyone who looked.

Your eyes flit from it up to his eyes, connecting in a tentative stare. The question between the two of you is left unspoken. Neither of you really need the words to understand that you both want more.

His hands fly to your waist again and flip you over onto your stomach. Your face squishes against the pillows as he boosts your hips to the right angle and slides right back inside. You whine at the intrusion, fingers gripping the pillow for some way to ground yourself.

He gives your ass a firm smack before leaning forward and boxing you in beneath him. You have no way of knowing for sure, but you're almost certain the thrusts reach deeper now. He's moving at the same frantic pace from before, yet every stroke feels like it bumps a sweet spot within you. That or you're just more sensitive from your previous release.

You can hear him panting in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. Every small grunt and soft growl drifts out behind your head.

"Fuck... think we should just do this till we're all better," he murmurs and nips at your shoulder.

"Mhm," you whine, arching your back and pushing your hips against him further. The next set of words comes out slurred and muffled both from your position against the pillow and the blurry state of your mind. "Never wanna stop. Just want you all the time."

He huffs out a laugh. "Yeah? That's what you wanna do, huh? Let me fuck you nonstop? Use you till you can't fucking move anymore? Breed you till I've had my fill?"

You mewl sharply and nod eagerly. "Uh huh, give it all to me till- ah! mmm... till we're both better," you whimper.

Skin continues slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet of the room. In the back of your mind, you wonder how far down the hall the sound echoes. It's a fleeting thought though, quickly overwhelmed by the repeated thoughts of how good you feel.

"Yeah? Maybe a baby in your belly is what you need. Maybe that's what we're supposed to do. Can't get this thing out of our system till we meet nature's demands," he rasps.

He doesn't even know what he's saying. He assumes the sudden desire to procreate comes from the infection, but the words feel as though they blossom from somewhere deeper. Whatever the case, it's obvious you like them. You clamp around his cock like you're trying to drain him dry.

"I'd probably fuck you like this every night if I saw you nice and round with my baby, sweetheart. Fuck, you'd look so good. Swollen in all the right places, aching for me to take care of you," he mumbles out.

"Give it to me. Want it so bad. Wanna... mmm fuck," you trail off, panting out the lasts of your desires.

The peak builds much faster for you two this time around. You squeeze around him till your rhythmic convulsions devolve into a burst of spasms. His thrusts land hard throughout his high, but you feel his muscles tense as he pumps another load into you.

Drops of his spend leak from your cunt and smear against both of your skin. This time he doesn't even bother pulling out. He knows he's still hard and that he has one, if not more, rounds in him. He keeps fucking you hard, through your cries of overstimulation and desperate squirming.

The rest of the night is a blur. You don't count how many times you go at it or keep track of the variety of positions you do it in. You know at one point you were on top, at another your head dangled off the edge of the mattress and bobbled around like that of a doll's. The intense passion and lust pervades all memories and casts the experience in a hazy fog.

All you're sure of is that now you feel better. For the moment, the two of you are satisfied, your bodies no longer alive with an electric craving for one another. Your head rests on his chest while the rest of you presses against his side. His hand rubs up and down your back in lazy, thoughtless strokes.

Neither of you say anything. Dashes of sunlight begin to shine through the windows that sit high on the wall. Both of you bask in the calm of the moment as you grapple with what happened.

"You think that cured us?" he asks softly after a while.

You pause before shrugging. "Can't say for sure, we'll have to wait and see," you say, looking up at him.

Somewhere inside of you, you believe that was it. That was the magic fix. You're almost certain that you fucked whatever that was out of your systems, but you want to be honest with him. Still, you can't help offering a little reassurance.

"We'll be ok," you say with a small smile.

He returns it. "If you're the one taking care of me, I don't doubt that," he teases.

You hum and squeeze your arms around his waist. Questions of a changed relationship status or potential future together going forward plague your mind, but you know it's not the time. If your supervisors hadn't heard the racket coming from in here, they'd realize something was up as soon as you and Carlos emerged from the same bedroom. You decide to take what semblance of peace with him you can get before having to face a possible onslaught of hazmat suits and probing tests.

Your eyes flutter shut as the beating of his heart lulls you into a state of peace. Even without the confirmation, you aren't worried about your connection. You're pretty confident that he'll be more than just your favorite patient in the coming weeks.

[monstercangirlofficial]

People have to understand that, as soon as you are in a callout, you are marked, and are labelled with a discrediting attribute that you're burdened with. This reduces and delegitimazes your voice and your ability to be trusted and interacted with, leading to being ostracized and excluded. That is the point of the callout. After being marked and labelled, those who aren't stigmatized will avoid contact with the "stigma bearer." When marked, anytime the stigma bearer is recognized, they generate a response of aversion and disgust in those who have seen or are aware of the callout, which they rationalize and justify through the notion that those who receive callouts "deserved it"

This way, the stigma is seen by others as transferable by association and as a threat that's understood as a fair and legitimate reason to keep a safe distance, as to avoid becoming a stigma bearer. When those who aren't associated, and are sufficiently separated from the stigma bearer, support and defend the stigmatized, they become "infected" by association. But, those directly marked will always be affected the most, as they're exposed first and more widely. When labelled as a stigma bearer, the perception of you being unsafe is spread around as a warning, which is done under the guise of maintaining the safety and sanctity of the community

People don't even have to believe in the callout for the stigma to work. They don't even have to see the original post, if others relay the information through other means. Once the stigma is created, it stays almost permanently. When the callout has been around for long enough misinformation will also become easier to spread, as the original source is harder to track, and it becomes "common knowledge." It may even become in fuel for another callout, creating a history or track record, as "they were already called out before." This is why the callout is inherently effective. The callout is designed to be a weapon first, making sure it damages and stigmatizes the "brand" of a user. This way, their url, name, mutuals, posts and even profile picture bear the stigma

This policing of "bad actors" is weaponized to get rid of those that are undesirable within the community, and callouts are used against those that are marginalized, as they usually lack the social resources to retaliate, and because they're seen as "reasonably capable" of doing what they're accused of. Those that divert from the norm are also the most likely to be in risk of suffering real life consequences when separated from their communities and support nets, and callouts are intentionally made to socially murder them and their brand. This is why these warnings are shared "just in case," so people can feel morally righteous for defending the community, as it is easier than taking tangible actions to stop actual issues

Callout post are designed and intentionally spread to socially murder others, and the more likely the targets are believed to be guilty, the more effective the callout post is. People will only jump to defend targets of callouts when they're sure they're innocent (which you can only know if you personally know who's being targeted). But nobody deserves callout posts, and thinking that people who are guilty deserve them too, perpetuates this problem, and is part of the reason why callouts are so effective. Callouts don't stop abusers or abuse

Evidence will be fabricated, people will lie, spread rumors, and things will be blown out of proportions, but, even if the accusations are real, ask yourself what narrative a callout is fabricating. People making callouts know that most victims of them haven't actually harmed anyone, so they instead paint them as groups that "have the potential to harm others." You're left to fill in the blanks with whatever morally repugnant thing they could've done. Just the suggestion of possible fault and wrongdoing will make most people react with aversion and disgust, and this is enough to turn a target into a stigma bearer. People will avoid them, because the feeling of rejection is strong enough to rationalize stigma bearers as abusers

The weaponization of "the truth" is also an issue in itself. People making callouts will lie, and then it's on the stigma bearer to prove that's a lie, but only to their audience. It's also specially difficult for a stigma bearer, because they have to prove they didn't do something, and how do you prove you didn't do it when your voice is being put into question by the callout? Once the callout is out there, any statement in it will be taken at face value and spread, unless challenged or ignored. Focusing on "what parts are true" is also a weapon of the callout, as the debate of the validity of a callout also helps it to spread, as stigma bearers want to clear their names, but this leads to curiosity in onlookers, which spreads the stigma

When you're targeted by a callout post (and survive the social isolation), you don't learn a lesson, you don't grow, you're not allowed to change and be reintroduced to your community. It doesn't matter if you're innocent or guilty, because people don't even have to believe a callout post in order to act on the implicit call to action and harassment. If others consider you a danger you will be isolated and bullied, sometimes to the point of suicide, and the people who decided to target you will consider this a victory. Callouts aren't interested in rehabilitation and growth, they're not interested in questioning the institutions and contexts that allow for the abuse of power and real harm to be done. Callouts are a means for quickly obtaining social capital for removing "bad actors" and keeping the community "clean"

[nuttylittlefruitcake]

The Narcissistic Abuse Believer To New Age/Alt-Right Conspiracy Theorist Pipeline

Let’s say that you are an abuse survivor. Let’s say that you had an abusive parent and/or ex. Let’s say you’re looking for support for abuse survivors, and a lot of the things you’re finding reference the concept of narcissistic abuse. You read more on the topic and begin to identify with a lot of what narcissistic abuse is supposed to be. You think to yourself “yes! this is exactly what I went through!” You research more about narcissists, how to spot them, what makes them tick, all the ways in which they would use and abuse you. You may not even know that NPD is a real disorder. You may not realize that narcissists are, more often than not, survivors of abuse just like you. Maybe you’re just genuinely misinformed. Maybe you just don’t care. A lot of people are here on the pipeline. Granted, this is not a good place to be (nowhere on the pipeline is) as it’s still incredibly harmful to pwNPD, but this is only the beginning.

Enter the Empath. The empath is allegedly a figure who experiences great empathy and compassion and, in turn, seeks to help others. They are generally portrayed as a kind and loving figure. Likewise, the Narcissist is the opposite. They’re evil manipulative abusers who only seek out vulnerable people to hurt, while not caring about the needs or feelings of others. You’ve been doing research for a while, and so you obviously know about the Empath. Let’s say you’ve internalized this idea that the Empath and the Narcissist are juxtaposed figures. Now, let’s take it a step further and say you’ve begun to believe that they have supernatural powers and that they use these powers for good/evil depending on their alignment. Let’s even say that you believe there’s a war going on between the two, that the empaths have to stop the narcissists from enacting their evil onto the world.

Supernatural powers like:

One very important thing we need to understand is that in New Age belief, The Empath and The Narcissist are two very particular figures that play a role in the belief system. To them, it’s not a disorder, it’s something else entirely. You might have noticed that the way some people talk about narcissists is wrapped up in spiritual, new agey language. Many years ago, I came across a YouTube channel that, in hindsight, was very new agey and ableist. I go back to that channel and what is the second video I see?

And if we go down a little further?

Spiritual language. Comparing us to demons, claiming we’re here to sabotage people on their (likely spiritual) paths. That is what a narcissist is in New Age belief. Empaths are here to do good and narcissists are here to do evil.

Now here’s where we get to the good part. If you reject the inherent truth that anyone has the capability of choosing to be a good or bad person, and instead believe that there’s a group of people sent here to do good and a group of people sent here to do evil, then I honestly don’t believe you’re too far off from believing in Starseeds vs Reptillians.

Starseeds are a concept founded in fascism, antisemitism, and white supremacy. It is believed that there is an ongoing spiritual war between the starseeds and the Reptillians, a group said to have been secretly running various organizations on Earth for thousands of years (sound familiar?) The starseeds want to help the Earth ascend to a new age, 5D, the Age of Aquarius, whatever you want to call it, while the Reptillians essentially want to keep that from happening. Honestly, just replace empaths with starseeds and narcissists with Reptillians and it’s pretty much the exact same thing. To New Agers, there’s practically no difference. And once you’ve made it to New Age territory, you might as well be knocking on the alt-right’s door.

There’s so much more about starseeds and Reptillians, and honestly New Age in general, that I just can’t fit into this post, but if you want to learn more, creature-wizard is a good blog with a lot of resources on the subject. I understand that it’s fun to joke about the ridiculous things people say about us (demons and such) but it’s also important to recognize how deeply dangerous narcissistic abuse rhetoric is, and that it leads to nowhere good for anyone. New Age ideology has always been ableist and eugenicist, and it’s been talked about how “starseed signs” are just autistic/ADHD traits, but I feel like the anti narc ableism also needs to be acknowledged. I’ll leave off with this:

If you genuinely believe in narcissistic abuse, then you are on this pipeline. Think long and hard about whether or not this is really where you want to be

[inbarfink]

I think a lot about the Concept of ‘choices that matter’ in video games. Like, in terms of what it is that makes a choice ‘really matter’, what do we perceive as a choice that matters or has a consequence, how do different games with different amounts of branching or non-branching storylines play with those ideas…  Especially because Undertale is one of my favorite games of all time, and it has often been hyped as ‘a game where your choices REALLY matter’ and… honestly, I dunno if all of this hype was fully conducive to Undertale.  Because the way it handles the concept of Video Game Choices is actually a lot more interesting and complex than that simplistic descriptor makes it seem.

Because Undertale actually has a lot of choices that ‘don’t really matter’! Lots of dialogue choices and silly little decisions that on a first playthrough seem like they’re some sort of moral choice or a branching plotline but end up always leading to basically the same result regardless of what you do!

And the game doesn’t really try to hide the fact that these choices are kinda 'Fake'. I mean, on a first playthrough a player might assume there’s gonna be some Massive Consequences for picking the ‘wrong’ drink on Undyne’s date, but the game’s narrative expects for there to be multiple playthroughs and pretty much every Choice that Doesn’t Matter is peppered with that Undertale brand of wacky character-focused humor that inherently makes the moment memorable. Papyrus leading Undyne straight to you no matter what you do is basically a cross-timeline running gag.

On some level I see this as a sort of gag that serves as meta-commentary about the expectations around Choices That Matter in Video Games. As in, a lot of games have their Moral Choices happen in clearly easily marked ‘this is a Moral Choice!’ moments within the story, while the actual gameplay (and any violence the player might cause as part of said gameplay) is basically entirely divorced from any element of narrative-branching and doesn't effect the story at all. Undertale basically entirely inverts this dynamic; the most important factor for which Route you’re own is how you handle your FIGHTs, and what seems like clearly-marked and obvious Moral Choices are just goofy insubstantial minor changes in dialogue. 

But also… there is also a level where you must ask yourself ‘what does it mean when we say that these choices Don’t Matter’. I mean, it’s not like they didn't change anything about the game, the Player still made the character say that other thing, the choice probably led to an alternate piece of dialogue, probably a joke with a call-back at the end of the game… The line between a one-off joke and an actual story-changing moment can be a little blurry if you look at it too deeply.

For example, near the end of the Waterfall part of the game, the Player is given the choice to save Monster Kid even at the risk of having to face down Undyne.

Pretty much anyone who isn’t deliberately trying to be an asshole is going to rush to save them and obviously that includes the Pacifist Route Players. But you can actually leave Monster Kid to die without it 'mattering' in the sense that it wouldn't divert you from the Pacifist Route. Undyne saves them instead of you, and ends up with slightly less HP for her battle (which might Matter for Runs when you try and FIGHT her but obviously not in Pacifist Runs) and… by the end of the game, during the extremely happy True Pacifist Ending, they still clearly remember that you abandoned them and are upset by it.

So… does saving Monster Kid ‘matter’ or not? On one hand, choosing not to save them mostly just changes a few lines of dialogue but… these lines of dialogue kinda recontextualize this happy ending and the Player’s actions in general. Despite the True Pacifist Ending otherwise portraying the Player/Frisk as a kind-hearted and brave hero... they still did this undeniably cowardly (and perhaps even cruel) act to one of their friends .

Was running away and leaving Monster Kid to die a brief but significant moment of weakness that the Player regrets and has cost them what could’ve been the start of a lovely friendship? Or is that simply that being a True Pacifist was always more of a matter of pragmatism rather than ideals? Were they only acting as a Pacifist to get that promised 'Best Ending', and only Monster Kid has an inkling they are not as heroic or kind as everyone thinks they are?

And then there’s the Snowman ‘quest’.

A free healing item given early in the game, with your mission being to carry it along in your inventory for as long as you can without ever consuming it. The only reward you will ever see from it is a few lines of dialogue…

But for many, it is more than enough of an incentive to preserve the Snowman’s Piece. You can do whatever you want with the Snowman without it ‘mattering’ in terms of Ending or consequences. You could carry it through all of your adventures with care and kindness... or you could eat it while he can’t see you and then go back to him and tell him that you ‘lost’ it and then get another piece and eat that as well, you could eat it right in front of his face, horrifying him. 

And much like with Monster Kid, you can STILL get the True Pacifist Ending after doing that, all that would change is a few optional pieces of dialogue from the Snowman… 

And a total recontextualization of the Player’s behavior and the ending. The Snowman sees the Player as a cruel and heartless person who is just pretending to be good so they can be liked - the way they acted with this immobile, powerless Snowman who could do nothing for them and their reputation reveals their true self. And he says their friends will realize that too one day...

Doing a True Reset on the Pacifist Ending is, by definition, a (almost) consequence-free action and yet it changes future Pacifist Routes immeasurably. Turning the Player into a Hypocrite doing the exact same thing they were trying to stop Flowey/Asriel from doing - trapping all of their friends into a time-loop so they can play with them forever while never actually letting them to enjoy freedom on the surface, simply because they are not willing to move on or put their friends' wishes and agency above their own. Nothing in the game actually changes, not one character can even suspect that you did something like that, and yet for the Player - this choice makes the entire Meaning of the game flip on its head. 

Even the most famous and heavily-toted Big Consequence in the whole game - selling your soul to Chara after completing a Murder Route… mostly what it does is just… recontextualize the ending of the Game.

As a game, ‘Undertale’ is very much about the ways in which a Player engages with a game can radically recontextualize it. The huge chasm of difference between the Pacifist and Muder Routes is just the most literal example of it. But, in a way, even the tiny little Dialogue Options - where the lack of real choice and consequences is Obviously a Joke - matter. Because of the way they can recontextualize the Player Character’s behavior.

(Okay, maybe not this one, but hear me out…)

Do you trust Papyrus to not betray you, even after you spied on him with Undyne?

Do you have the integrity to admit you forgot something or got it wrong even when there’s no consequences for just lying about it?

Are you a hypocrite for trying to get Alphys to be truthful with Undyne only to then immediately turn around and lie to Undyne yourself?  

None of these choices matter for the ending, some of them don’t even get, like, a call-back joke or anything, but… if you are engaged in this story as a narrative, if you are invested in these characters as if they were people, if you are honestly trying to be the best person you can be, if you are trying to self-reflect at the way you approach this game… even the silliest little dialogue option can suddenly be imbued with deep implications and you can make them matter. 

Undertale is one of the best demonstrations of this concept, but this is absolutely not exclusive to it. For example….

‘Ace Attorney’ is pretty much as far away as you can get from a ‘branching narrative’ within the video game sphere. It is a heavily-linear Visual Novel where 70% of the time it won’t even let you talk to random characters at anything but the exact order it expects you to and any ‘Bad Endings’ are basically just glorified Game Over Screens. (... because this is the Internet and something something piss on the poor, I should probably specify that I am talking about ‘Ace Attorney’ because I love Ace Attorney and these are neutral descriptions of the game and not complaints. There’s nothing wrong with a game being linear.) 

If there’s any Dialogue Choice in AA, it’s generally a very basic ‘right answer-wrong answer’ choice between Progress and a Penalty, or a total non-choice that just gets you to the same final result regardless. Except… Well… as we just talked about, getting to the same final result doesn’t necessarily mean a choice is ‘meaningless’, does it?

There’s actually a lot of great storytelling moments where Ace Attorney, despite its otherwise strict linearity, uses this exact sort of recontextualizing mindset I’ve talked about with Undertale to make choices with some really powerful emotional impact…. Even if technically, the ending is the same ending. It can be something as basic as ‘even if picking this Wrong Answer doesn’t get me a penalty, it still embarrassed my character and disappointed my friends/rivals and thus I feel bad for picking it’. Consequences as recontextualizing your character as more incompetent than they should’ve come across at that moment.

And then there’s moments like the iconic ending of ‘Justice for All’. That moment before Franziska bursts into the Courtroom with the case-making evidence and saves the day. The moment where it seems like Phoenix really is gonna have to pick between protecting his best friend and carrying out a rightful sentence.

The player gets to pick between the two options, but Phoenix never gets to say his choice out loud before Franziska comes running in... and yet… he, and the player, still made that choice. Even if no one ever has to experience the consequences of your choice, even if the rest of the world has no idea what Phoenix Wright would’ve chosen if the Miracle hadn’t happened, we know what we picked and that knowledge of the choice matters. Because of how we feel about this choice and what it says about our interpretation of Phoenix… and about us.

There’s also a bit of this ludonarrative device in ‘The Great Ace Attorney: Adventures’. During “The Adventures of the Runaway Room”, when you investigate the Omnibus for the second time and start finding things that… don’t quite fit together. When you’re finally starting to make progress with proving McGilded’s innocence, while also maybe starting to notice that something is… wrong with these pieces of evidence. 

The unchanging linear narrative of the game is that Ryunosuke does eventually realizes McGilded's trickery, puts truth ahead of victory in court and yet, despite his effort and good intentions - the case still ends with a false Not Guilty verdict. And yet, the Player has the choice to... tweak the details.

There are several points where Ryunosuke can object, where he can call out the inconsistencies even though they help his case, where he can support Van Zieks in his accusations of tempered evidence... or he can not. Not necessarily intentionally misleading the Court as much as subconsciously trying to ignore the inconsistencies in the name of trusting his client.

And yet… in the end it doesn’t matter. Maybe Susato calls out the inconsistency instead of him, maybe Van Zieks does, maybe it remains uncontested but... no matter what you do, the case will end with a Not Guilty verdict (I mean, I guess you can deliberately fail the game but that will not progress the plot), McGilded doesn’t seem like he held a grudge (in the few minutes he had left to live), and a few cases later - Ryunosuke would always be punished for his part at this false verdict.

So it doesn’t really matter what Ryunosuke did back then? Does it matter if he did his best and called out every single inconsistencies or if he kinda half-assed it until he (and the Player) had to? He’s still going to suffer the same consequences down the line. And yet….

And yet, I think there’s something so powerful about giving us that option. About knowing that Ryunosuke, and we, did try and do something about McGilded's dirty tricks- even if it didn’t work. Or alternative, knowing that there was more that Ryunosuke and us could’ve done even if it was not nearly enough. Even if in the eyes of the game and the British Justice system there is no difference, the fact that we know what did and what we could’ve done can radically change the way the player feels about all of the later scenes concerning the truth about McGilded’s trial. It can radically change the way the player interpret Ryunosuke’s feelings about it as well.

Because even though the game itself keeps playing along with the same script regardless, that trial had irrevocable consequences for the Player.

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 24th

leon kennedy x consensual somnophilia

it was never something leon would have ever considered.

sex was always something leon would do with you, not to you — and he wanted it that way. he loved making you beg for it, loved watching your reactions, loved watching you start off shy and end up a mouthy mess, barely making any sense. it was part of the fun.

he’d been coming home late as of recently, either called out onto some kind of ridiculous mission, or stacked high with paperwork that kept him back after hours working overtime. he was making great money, you couldn’t complain — leon using his overtime earnings to spoil you like you deserved, but it was stealing the most valuable thing of all from you, and that was him.

you were needy, needed his physical affection, his cock bruising your insides and strong arms wrapped around you grounding you — reminding you that he was here, and yours, and safe. it just wasn’t possible lately, only seeing him in the mornings before he’d leave. you tried really hard to stay awake when he’d get home, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you’d text him and tell him— but you’d usually get hit with the ‘You need your rest, baby. Go to sleep.’ text response and who are you to argue? you couldn’t if you tried, often falling asleep with the lamp on, sprawled atop the sheets. his tired frame would find you like that when he returns home, shaking his head with a tired chuckle and tucking you in. leon looks after you like that.

you’d awoken with a plan, waking up earlier than leon’s alarm and padding into the kitchen to make him breakfast before he leaves— making his morning easier by laying out his clothes, his badge, his wallet — really playing at housewife, which you both enjoyed.

he was smiling sleepily when he found you in the kitchen, serving up his food to go so that he wasn’t late.

“whats all this, hm?” he smirks as he approaches you, pulling you toward him by the hips and pressing a grateful kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“just wanna treat you right, i know you’re working hard and you’re tired… i miss you though.” you exhale slowly, still sleepy yourself as you burrow your cheek to his chest. his heart pangs a little at your sad tone, stroking down the back of your dishevelled head.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry i’ve been so busy, works been hectic lately but things should be clearing up soon. then i can take some time off, spend time with my number one.” his sympathetic tone fades to a grin, running a thumb over your cheek when you smile with him.

“‘kay.” you seem satisfied, walking him to the door, watching him pull his fur lined jacket on to protect him from the chilly winter weather outside. the jacket makes him seem even bigger than he is, which makes you bite back a needy giggle as you hand him his brown paper bag with his breakfast inside.

“alright, baby. thanks for the food. i’ll be back later.” he pinches your chin affectionately. “wheres my kiss?” he tilts his head a little with a playful smirk, and you don’t wait another second before standing on your tiptoes and planting a kiss to his lips, savouring the feeling knowing you’ll miss him all day. it was then time to propose your plan.

you pull back, and he goes to step away but you speak, as casually as possible.

“oh, and leon. if you come home and you need me, you can use me whilst i sleep if you’d like. i don’t wear panties to bed.” you smile innocently, before pulling back fully. “see you later!” you usher him out as he stares back in shock, not giving him time to respond. you all but kick him out as you giggle, going about your day.

he’d thought about it a lot that day.

he couldn’t do that to you, right? use you whilst you slept. it was… degrading. inherently wrong. his sweet girl, unaware of his touch. and yet, you were so willing, the look in your eyes when you’d permit him access to you whilst you slept haunted him all day. you’d tried to play it cool, but leon knew you too well — knew that needy, neglected look in your eyes. you were practically begging to be touched. had it really been that long?

he’d arrived home late as usual, and by the time he did, with all the work that had been lumped onto him he’d pretty much forgotten momentarily about that morning, that was until he entered the bedroom.

it’s like you’d set the scene perfectly for him.

he puffs out his cheeks a little as he exhales, running hands over his cheeks like he was trying to wipe off water. you were there, fast asleep on the bed wearing just his t-shirt. the blankets had been kicked down to just cover one foot, bunching up on your other side — and your leg was cocked up as you lay on your stomach. he creeps further into the room, sighing at how beautiful you looked illuminated only by the bright moonlight. his tshirt had ridden up, revealing your plump ass and glistening wet cunt in the low light. poor thing, he thinks — you’d gone to bed all needy.

he’s surprised the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it doesn’t wake you, usually having a rather pavlovian effect on you to make you salivate whenever you hear it. he still feels slightly guilty despite the clear permission you’d given ringing bright and new in his memory. there was nothing wrong with just getting comfy and laying beside his girl, right?

he wedges himself gently behind you, still wearing his clothes, and in your sleep you habitually shuffle up closer to him, pressing your bare ass against his cock. he winces, hand coming up to caress the skin there. “fuck.” he murmurs, cock hard in his jeans.

maybe he could just jerk himself off, right here beside you. that wasn’t so bad, right? he pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees and quickly gets to work, the other hand carefully pinching the material of his tshirt and lifting it slowly to reveal more skin to him. he inhales, jaw slacking a little at the sight of your curves as he touches himself— and he feels himself getting more desperate. what’s the harm in playing with you just a little?

he slows his movements on his own cock, bringing his hand slowly to your ass again, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. his hand creeps from there to between your legs, his fingers experimentally swiping through your soaked folds. you must’ve prepared yourself before you slept. a wave of heat rushed through him as he wondered if you went to bed this wet every night since he’d been working so much and not pleasing you. without thought his fingers slide up to your clit, giving it a few affectionate rubs like he usually would. you whine sleepily and he shushes you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s me.”

you don’t seem to stir, and his blood is fucking pumping. he leans over you, using his strong arm to hold himself up and swipes his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick. “so god damn wet.” he hisses, brows knitting. he gets himself into a comfortable position before pushing himself a little just past the tip.

you cry out a little into the pillow, and he hears himself shushing you again. “i know sweet girl, just me.” he sighs, pressing his forehead against your back.

he keeps you like that for a while, arm trembling a little whilst he holds himself up. you just feel so good, swallowing half of him — and he realises just how pent up he’s been since he’d been working overtime. he slowly bottoms out, letting out the most pornographic yet quiet moan, perfectly forming an ‘ugh’ sound in the air as you squeeze around him. he starts to grind in and out of you, and only then you stir — always the heavy sleeper.

you let out a disorientated yet pleased whine, clenching down hard as your consciousness comes to the surface. leon, mounting you still, wraps one thick arm beneath your stomach, effortlessly holding you to him as if you were a pillow or a stuffed animal — the other thick forearm wedged itself beneath you to work at your clit, light but slightly frenzied circles pressed against it. you let out a sleepy sob, drool painting your chin as your noises come out muffled to the pillow.

“you’re okay, pretty girl. s’just me remember. fuck. you still sure you want me up in here?” you feel his clothed stomach against your back.

“mhm!” you rasp, barely awake just drifting in and out of what felt like a perfect wet dream.

soon you’re clenching down hard again, almost trapping his movement. he lets you hump your clit on the heel of his hand as he tried his hardest to look round at you from his position. “you wanna cum on it, baby? yeah?” he cooes, slightly whiny and high pitched signalling he wasn’t far behind you. “such a good girl giving yourself to me like this. gonna treat you all fuckin’ night, make up for lost time.” he really is whining now, the soft sounds of his pelvis clapping against your ass filling the room.

you snuggle against him as best as you can, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself waking up properly to a hearty orgasm on your boyfriends thick cock.

but leon wasn’t done yet. needless to say, he was tired at work the next day.

[junicult]

!! showering w the bachelors for the first time

contains ; mostly fluff. fem!farmer. some suggestive parts. making out. newly established relationships. nsfw in sebastian’s, implied in shane’s & alex’s. afab!farmer. brief mention of fingering. not proofread, will later.

note ; i intended for this to be entirely sfw i swear

harvey.

- the honeymoon phase.

- where he doesn’t even live with you, yet he’s at your house nearly every night, or sometimes vise versa.

- when he uses your stove (with permission) to make you both dinner to share after you’ve finished work.

- where you’re still so in love all you wanna do is gaze into each others eyes and kiss until you can’t breathe.

- that’s exactly what kind of phase you’re in.

- and it’s been a long time since he’s been in that phase.

- you sorta have a whole routine atp.

- whenever he comes over, you make it a plan to wrap up work quickly & spend the evening with him,

- which is why you felt so guilty when you lost track of time, backpack full of rocks and geodes you couldn’t wait for clint to break open the next morning.

- when you glanced down at your watch, you nearly jumped ten feet in the air like a cartoon lmfao

- and you’ll definitely regret running up the ladder one level before you reached another button on the elevator—but right now, you weren’t even focused on that.

- by the time you made it back to your house, a mere two hours after you told harvey you’d be back, it was pitch-black outside.

- thankfully, he didn’t leave. instead, he stood scrubbing the dishes clean, before whipping around at the sudden swing of your front door.

- “harvey! i’m so sorry, i lost track of ti—“

- “oh thank yoba you’re okay,” he sighs, (u already know he wanted to call someone to check up on u but he didn’t want to seem controlling😭😭)

- and he didn’t waste a second to meet you at the door, scanning you just to see if you were injured.

- “i’m fine, i’m fine, just got way too distracted. did you make dinner? did you have to eat alone?? oh, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to—“

- ur word vomit is making him fall in love with you even more. two peas in a pod🫶🫶

- then it’s just back and forth of you constantly questioning and reassuring each other for a few moments.

- “but you made such a nice meal for me, and i kept you waiting, i just—i’m so sorry—“

- “sweetheart, it’s okay, i’m not mad,” he almost chuckles, holding you close.

- as soon as he established you’re not hurt or injured, he’s no longer stressed.

- he understands what it’s like getting carried away at work, so who is he to ever be mad at you for that?

- after you ate and assured him you were fine, that’s when you mentioned it.

- “i’m pretty dirty from the mines, i was gonna shower. make up for lost time with me?”

- his mind doesn’t inherently go to sexual things.

- honestly, he was just excited you wanted to.

- he also doesn’t give a fuck that he took a shower earlier. he just wants to spend time with you lol.

- although ik he’s all organized and has like a little routine where you both keep taking turns under the spray LMFAO

- like you get in first, rinse yourself off, then switch with him while you soap yourself up, switch & rinse, switch and apply shampoo, switch, etc, you get it.

- it’s so fucking funny LMAO.

- but the entire time you’re making casual conversation, some little comments about how much you missed each other, things like that.

- he loves how you look in the shower. not even bc ur naked, it’s just a vulnerable way to see the person you love, and there’s nothing sexual in the way he’s looking at you.

- even when you tug on his neck to pull him down for a kiss, he’s just swooning over your affections.

- unless the implication, or intention of sex came before the shower…he’s probably not approaching anything with that.

- it’s a completely different story if you’ve had a ton of tension all day,

- constantly making passing remarks that make his palms sweat, but unable to go any further because of your busy day,

- and you leave him all hot and bothered until you come home in the evening, and ask him to join you in the shower.

- that’s when he forgets all about the little routine.

sam.

- ah, the start to ur most important routine.

- honestly, i feel like you were the one who started it all.

- the whole, “every time you shower, we shower together” thing.

- at least, that’s what it becomes once you move in together. but before that, anytime he was over & you needed to shower, he’d totally join in.

- it’s not even sexual. there’s only like a 30% chance you’ll end up having sex, or even just do foreplay whenever you shower together.

- he’s just so clingy, and he craves the closeness after he realized how much he enjoyed you being there the first time.

- you both were quietly laying together, watching the tv wordlessly, just enjoying each others company after you two decided he should spend the night.

- which then prompted in him asking, “do you think i could use the shower? i smell bad.” he frowns after taking a whiff of his arm.

- you giggle. “i think you smell good, but go ahead. i don’t have your soap, though.”

- like he could care lmfao.

- “thanks!” he just grins, hopping on his feet and giving you a little kiss on the forehead before he skips off.

- you give it like 5 minutes before you decide u miss him too much (attachment issues😞)

- “sam…y’think you got room for two in there?” you knock before creeping the door open.

- he peeks his shampoo’d head from behind the shower curtain. “you wanna come in?”

- “is that okay?”

- u might’ve just asked him to marry you.

- his whole face lights up, grinning wide and opening the curtain wider as he steps to the side. “the more the merrier!”

- he doesn’t even care ur naked. there’s nothing sexual running through his mind, he’s just excited you’re standing with him rn. now he doesn’t have to rush to go see you.

- he even steps to the side to give you the chance to soak your hair under the spray.

- it’s easily just a little awkward at first.

- you’ve had sex before, that’s not why it’s awkward,

- only because it’s the first time you two are seeing each other completely naked without any intention of sexual advancement. not that it would be such a burden if you did, but neither of you want to.

- while you drench your hair, he can’t help but smile lovingly at the sight of water droplets all over your skin.

- he could easily be thinking about how much fun it’d be to have sex right here, but he’s too focused on how this might actually be his favorite thing you’ve ever done together.

- like minutes of silence pass, nothing but the water running and he’ll just lean in and press a kiss on your temple or shoulder.

- it’s not bc he’s trying to hint at something,

- he just wanted to do it, and he doesn’t really overthink the things he wants to do.

- but the affection makes you smile, and by how pure it was, it doesn’t send any false messages.

- it really doesn’t last that long. probably about 15 minutes of you both washing off and short displays of affection.

- yet it clung to you both so well, that it just became the routine you never skipped out on.

shane.

- it definitely just happened naturally.

- ur relationship at first was strictly sexual.

- to the rest of the town, no one even knew you guys even spoke. which, to be fair, there wasn’t much talking between u two anyways💀💀

- but i wanna say that was only for a couple weeks.

- it was still super slow and progressive. your conversations went from short & passing, to getting to know each other a little more. but the sex was still there.

- it went from instead of him leaving right after you finished, you’d stay up and talk for a couple hours.

- to waking up together, to spending the day together, etc etc.

- now ur relationship was approaching friends w benefits category. except it was unspoken, but neither of you wanted to be friends at this point.

- despite all of this, you’ve still never showered together.

- until you spent the whole day working outside. you feel gross, sticky, and sweaty. he just so happened to stick around after you started working.

- ur checking in on your animals he just follows you lol.

- before u both knew it, the sun was coming down and he spent the whole day helping you.

- the thing was, neither of you wanted to mention it. you were both nervous even bringing it up would spark the implication of wanting him to leave.

- which was not the case.

- not to mention, he’s a huge help. when u passed him ur axe to chop down trees, you almost couldn’t look away 🤷‍♀️

- so after you’ve finished, sun starting to set and sweat dripping from your temples—he’s still standing with you.

- “i feel gross, i’m gonna shower.” you frown, plucking your clothes away from your sticky skin.

- ofc he’s thinking it.

- but he doesn’t have time to make a sly comment before you shoot one over your shoulder, “there’s room for two, y’know.”

- say no more, he’s following close behind you throwing off his shirt.

- “thought you said there was room for two, there’s hardly room for one.” he snorts, squeezing himself beside you in the cramped space.

- “oh c’mon, you’ve never had a problem with making it fit.”

- he’s gonna lose his mind.

- u don’t really waste any time LMFAO

- drenching your hair under the spray before you look over at him,

- and you both just lean in cus it’s unspoken, but obvious you guys aren’t in there just to shower.

- he’s quick to slotting his hands at the small of your back, while you wrap yours around his neck and press yourself against him.

- …not much showering gets done, i’ll just say that.

sebastian.

- i feel like sebastian spends more nights at your house then he does at his own at this point.

- he’s not the type to get super attached very easily, even getting to the step of sleeping together took a while.

- but after it happened, he found your little cottage so comfortable. he liked waking up to you in the morning, and falling asleep in your arms at night.

- the only reason he goes home is to work.

- and the minute he finishes up, he heads back over.

- honestly, if he could pack up his computer and leave it at your house, then he’d never leave—which is probably why you made it clear he can’t do that.

- your relationship is already committed.

- i don’t really think he’d wanna sleep with you if hadn’t discussed a romantic relationship.

- anyways, i feel like bc of this, he’s already showered at your place lol.

- you were too busy to ask, and he knew you wouldn’t mind, so he just jumped in and took a quick shower.

- hours after you already started your chores for the day, he woke up & just sniffed his shirt and winced a little.

- he also did some laundry (for your sake).

- so then it kinda just became a, “hey, do you mind if i take a quick shower?” while you were preoccupied.

- sometimes you’d be the one to ask. like if you were lying together, on your bed in your house, you’d turn to him and say the same thing.

- it never rly occurred to either of u that you could knock out two birds with one stone🤷‍♀️

- one evening you were exhausted. you smelled horrible, you could already tell. you had spent nearly the entire day down in the mines, just covered in dirt and rubble, stinking like sweat yet he still kissed you when you came in.

- “i need to shower,” you groan, still accepting his kiss.

- ugh but he’s already spent the majority of the day without you, why are you going to deprive him of more?

- “i think you smell fine,” he tries his best to persuade, but you won’t budge.

- pressing against his chest, you giggle, “you know that’s not true. i’ll only be a few minutes, promise.”

- he’s honestly so clingy, literally tugging on your arm as you try to walk away and following behind you like a lost puppy.

- and suddenly, “i could use a shower too…” despite him using it earlier.

- you look at him for a second, narrowing your eyes, before you tease, “yeah, you could.”

- he’s much like sam, just less openly enthusiastic.

- when you tell him to get the water running, he’s only nodding, but it’s not hard to miss the way he’s turning to start the water so quick.

- and how he’s undressing like he has somewhere to be, despite presenting so nonchalant about it.

- for him, it’s just a better reason to be so close to you. he likes when you’re around.

- it really depends on how much he was missing you, but for the most part i don’t think it ever leads to anything sexual.

- sure, he stands back to let you rinse yourself off and his eyes wander, but that’s about as much that’ll happen if neither of you are in the mood.

- and even then, if you end up wanting to have sex, it hardly ever happens in the shower. most is just foreplay.

- which he is never opposed to.

- i’ve said it once, i’ll say it a million more times,

- he lovesss fingering you.

- and lowkey, if you’re intending on having sex and starting with foreplay in the shower…phew.

- gently pressing you against the shower wall, the water running all down his back but he doesn’t even care,

- and his lips are making out with yours, which are sloppy in response while his fingers press against that spot inside of you that has your neck craning and moans spilling…

- that’s what he wants when he’s been missing you and joins you in the shower.

alex.

- i actually think he’s similar to sam too.

- he’s a huge fan of showering together.

- for starters, he’s the kind of man who makes himself at home very quickly💀💀

- even when you guys weren’t even dating yet, still just in that getting to know each other and hanging out regularly phase.

- when you’d plan for him to come over once you finished up work and spend time w each other casually.

- the cocky side of him just took your hospitality as flirting.

- which, i mean, isn’t unbelievably far off. you do like him.

- but it was probably like his second time over at your house, and he just casually asked if he could take a shower.

- you might’ve raised an eyebrow, but you still said sure.

- so then it became a pretty normal thing. he never took longer then 10 minutes, so you could appreciate that.

- after you both started dating, and had seen each other naked, it became much more casual.

- the transition between not showering together, to showering together was so subtle.

- it just started with you showering, and he needed to pee so he’d just come in and, well, pee.

- then he’d be showering but you still needed to brush your teeth and do your skincare, so you hung out in the bathroom.

- and pretty soon it was so normal that when you asked if he wanted to join you one evening—you didn’t even think much of it.

- it wasn’t until you were midway through washing your body when you realized he was doing the same thing beside you.

- it was just like a, ‘oh, okay, this is normal now’ kind of realization.

- “can you pass me the shampoo?” like he was asking for the salt at the dinner table.

- it just felt natural, especially after he moved in.

- it became a thing you both do together.

- literally a part of your nightly routine. when you were ready to shower, you’d let him know and he’d start the water while you got undressed.

- so since it was your nightly routine, i feel like the longer you’re together, showering together and having sex doesn’t really pair up.

- you shower 9/10 times together. there’s no way you’d be able to keep up (he can tho lol)

- but that doesn’t mean it’s rare.

- he loves looking at you when you’re naked. no shame.

- there could be zero sexual energy between you two at the moment, and he’s still looking you up and down, admiring.

- he can’t help it! he doesn’t even have to be turned on for his body to react to yours.

- “are you hard right now?” you laugh almost like you’re making fun of him.

- and his response will always be, “well duh,” because you just have that affect on him.

elliott.

- another man that loves to shower with you.

- well…yes he likes to shower together, but he’s definitely a bigger fan of bathing together.

- i’ll get to that in a minute.

- your relationship progressed very steadily. it wasn’t until after a few dates when you actually slept together.

- once you had sex though, i feel like it opened you up into being much more comfortable around each other.

- spending time constantly, always inviting him over, allowing him to see you in more vulnerable ways like in your pj’s or all dirty.

- he approached the idea first, i feel like.

- you’ve been having a stressful week, working nearly every hour you were awake, and you had complained about it prior.

- so he just wanted to help you relax, setting up a nice bath with candles and bath salts and anything to help you relax.

- he’s so sweet about it too, not even intending on joining you until you clasped your hands together and asked him to.

- “join me, please. i’ve hardly seen you all week.”

- and he’s all ears.

- sitting in the opposite end, either sitting in peaceful silence or listening to you recap your day.

- i lowkey think he’d bathe you LMFAO

- like hear me out, he’s offering to wash your hair and he’s all delicate with it, giving you a whole head massage and dipping a cup of water to rinse it out.

- kissing your neck and shoulders, pampering you while you don’t even care to protest.

- and even if you did, he wouldn’t allow it. not when you’re all he wants to focus on right now.

- and despite him loving to bathe with you, i feel like his shower routine is so intensive and meticulous that it’s not often you shower together.

- he never minds your company, i promise you that.

- i just firmly believe he’s a morning showerer and you don’t really have the time for that in the morning.

- if you were to ask for him to join you, i don’t think he’d turn you down. he’d just stand away from the spray and tie his hair back so it doesn’t get wet LOL

- but he’s all for spending as much time as he can get with you.

[dukeofankh]

Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.