#these are all questions we can ask ourselves

[certifiedsexed]

hi, I’m asking for some clarification on the idea that Virginity is a social construct. the thing I actually understand and AGREE with the points and explanations on why, but aren’t those just the connotations around being a virgin, not the actual concept of being a virgin. I wholeheartedly agree that being a virgin shouldn’t be seen as more “pure” and “innocent” but like, what’s wrong with “person that has not had sex before”?

Hi! So, you've practically invited me to ramble, Anon, I'm so excited. T_T

To be clear, this is a great question!! Thank you so much for being interested in learning!

Let's start with the fact that "virgin", by definition, has not ever meant "person that has not had sex before".

It's a term that's specifically, repeatedly, worldwide, has been used to refer to women and girls who have not had "sexual intercourse", specifically "PIV" sex. It's still used that way, in many places, all over the world.

It has many, many definitions, I don't deny that. The closest it's got to what you're talking about is "person who hasn't had sexual intercourse", which is not the same as "person that has not had sex".

There are many ways to have sex without having intercourse. Masturbation, for example, is a type of sex and yet, people who have only masturbated still count as virgins. In fact, in many places, you can give and receive blow jobs, anal sex, oral sex, mutual masturbation and still count as a virgin!

As a Sex Ed Scholar, I think it's very important to acknowledge that things like masturbation, oral sex, etc, are all types of sex. Not just because it's misogynistic and cisheteronormative to claim they aren't but because we live under a culture that encourages rape and general sexual abuse.

To not be clear about what is and isn't sex is very dangerous and plays into rape culture.

I also think it's important we ask ourselves why we need the term virgin. Do we? What purpose does it serve? Do we want a word for people who have not had sex, or people who have not had sex with others? Why?

[Maybe to talk about STI/Ds? Except people who haven't had sex at all can still have an STD! So. not that.]

Maybe you want it for some type of research! But why virgin specifically, a term with a million and one bigotries dragging behind it? Why a term more insult than objective? Why a term that many people will not identify with, or even want to be involved with?

Why not create a new term altogether?

To be clear, I don't think anyone is evil for using the term virgin. But I think maybe we should consider if we're past the point where we need to be using that word at all and asking ourselves what use it even has.

Okay, I hope this helps explain a little more, Anon. If not, feel free to ask me to ramble more. I love discussing this shit, you've hit the jackpot, so fr, if you didn't understand or wonder more, knock yourself out. <33

[igglemouse]

Hey look who's here to kick off my day, Niklas, the man of destiny himself. I'm not surprised but he is sporting a big smile on his face which I love to see! It's supposed to be Summerday, by the way, but as you can tell the weather here doesn't really think so.

"I was thinking," Niklas says after I invite him inside, his cheerful mood radiating off of him and bringing a smile to my face too. "It's summer, maybe we can go out and do some summery stuff?"

"Oh?" I glance at one of the windows and peer beyond the glass to see the dreary gray morning that is common here oft times in Windenburg. "It sure doesn't feel like summer."

"That's Windenburg for you!" he agrees with a laugh and yeah, can't argue there but what kind of summery things can we do with a day like this?

"What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"Just something simple, maybe, head out to the public pool?"

I can't help but smirk and tease him a little, it is a good idea buuuut I have a feeling I know why he's thinking about a little date out to the pool. "Ah, wanting to see me in a swimsuit then?"

So we head to the Bathe De Rill and thankfully we're a little early so the pool is pretty much empty. It's also raining which probably explains the lack of people but honestly why would rain stop a trip to the pool? You're going to get wet any ways, so what's the difference? Ah well, public pools are no fun if there's too much of a crowd.

After a few casual laps, nothing competitive, but we both use enough energy so that we had to pause and catch our breaths giving us a perfect time to start a conversation. "So, any water tricks you can show me?"

"Hmm? No," he gives his head a little shake, wading restlessly in the water. "It's always hard to manipulate the elements. Fire, water, air, those forces take a lot of skill and power to get a handle of."

"I can imagine but you're telling me you have no tricks at all!?" He's so lame sometimes! "Not even a bubble or a little sprout of water or-"

"Oh, I know a trick I can do with water?" He says but his tone is a little too playful now and it makes me suspicious of what he might say next and yet I can't help but ask.

"Yesss?" my eyes narrow, knowing the set up suddenly, it's going to be a lewd joke isn't it?

"I can show you later tonight."

Ugh, I knew it! Let me guess, something something make me wet something something? Yeah, that's He's also snickering like a child too as if he's told the most clever of jokes! All I can do is groan, roll my eyes, and float over to the edge of pool to make my exit.

He follows me outside of the pool and we both decide to hang out a little longer here. For a while we just walk, letting ourselves dry with the help of a very mild sun and a slight breeze but eventually we find somewhere to stop. Away from the trickle of people who have waited out the rain to visit the famous Bathe de Rill. I am mostly focused though on his watch, there is something about it that draws the eyes, it looks ordinary and yet clearly it isn't.

"So is that thing waterproof?" I ask, my eyes glaring at it as if it had asked me a question instead.

"Yea, fireproof too. It can withstand a lot, it's...well, it's very old. My great grandmother had her house burned down in a fire, attempted arson we think, but she later retrieved it in the ashes as if it were brand new."

"That...that thing seems pretty powerful?" Fire usually is all powerful, after all, it's like pure energy. Fire kills everything, doesn't it? Except for his watch I guess.

He shrugs as if it the answer was obvious. "Yeah, it is, but honestly it's a passive kind of power. Not an active kind of power."

"So you say it points you to where you need to be but for what purpose like...is it trying to help you succeed or..."

Another shrug. "Simply where I need to be, whatever that means. It's not always serving me, at least that's what I've been told but honestly I don't think my father even knows what it does."

"What do you mean?" I ask, because the more I hear about it the more confusing it gets. He used it to claim that that we were meant to be but what if it dragged him my way for another reason?

"It's...hard to explain," he rubs the back of his neck for lack of a better answer. "It's not trying to make me rich or anything, it's just simply...where I need to be."

"Ugh, I'm starting to understand why you avoid magic!"

I head back home with Niklas because by the time we left the pool night had fallen and you know he insisted on walking me home. He warned of vampires and werewolves and the mothman and bigfoot too...okay, he only warned me about vampires because he seriously has a hatred for them.

Either way, I mentioned to him that he couldn't stay long because I had some cleaning to do and once again he deployed his magic to help me out. Cleaning the tub with a few swirls of his arms and some sparkly sparkles on top of it and voila, a clean tub! Yeah so, that's a neat trick! I'd be fine with just learning that honestly.

Also, yes, he never did change out of his swimshorts? Yeah so, that was my day, I guess I made the most of it.

Episode List - Next Episode 3.3

[m4iya]

⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Strawberry Muffins with cookie dough to eat in for @ailurophile

Club Manager ft. Tetsurou Kuroo (fluff)

w.c 2k

Spoilers for the Battle at the Garbage Dump movie!!

“It’s already our second year, are you sure you aren’t going to join a club at all?” The girl spoke while glancing over at her friend, whose head was slumped on the table.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to at all, but the thought of asking would be too embarrassing. It was already the fourth week of school, and everyone seemed to have joined a club already. She hadn’t joined one in her first year, so how would she gain the confidence to join one now?

“It’d stand out on your resume” She grinned convincingly.

“I know..” The girl groaned. “It’s hard for me to just waltz up to an already established club and ask to join.”

“You can be so awkward.”

“I know.”

Though, it seemed someone had overheard her from across the classroom, as when she was packing her bag for the day, she was approached by a timid boy.

“Um.. I overheard you and your friend from across the class..” He spoke with a soft tone, avoiding her gaze. She titled her head in confusion.

“About?”

“Joining a club.”

“Right..” She chuckled.

The boy stuck his hand into his pocket, taking a phone out. “We have a spot at the volleyball club. The team is looking for a manager.. I can call our captain if you want to join” He offered.

“Oh! Um… I don’t really know much about volleyball. I’ve never even seen a game, I don’t think I’d be much help.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“It’s fine. I had to start somewhere too.”

Nodding in agreement, she zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She weighed her options; she could join a club now, and continue with it until her third year. Or she’d reach her third year, having not joined any clubs or made any friends outside her small circle.

And after three whole years, she’d leave school with so many things she could’ve partook in. She’d be the one person who always stood off to the side while everybody else took the opportunity to grow.

“I guess I’ll join.” She smiled warmly.

“I’ll call him then..” The boy’s voice trailed off as he pulled out his phone, dialling somebody. Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone from outside the classroom inched closer alongside a set of footsteps.

“Is he outside?” She questioned

“Give it a few seconds,” he replied “He’ll probably let it ring out.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, a tall student slid the door to the classroom open. The first thing that stood out to her was his very messy bedhead.

She stifled a laugh.

“Kuroo, this girl said she’ll be our manager.” He said, stepping aside.

“Hello..” She waved.

Kuroo let out a hearty laugh as he walked towards the pair. “Kenma, you actually spoke to someone you didn’t know? Without anyone else?”

“It was for the club.”

As he stood in front of her, she was reminded how tall the third year students were in comparison to her.

“Our new manager?”

“I don’t have any experience, so..” She replied, shy.

“We’ll teach you the ropes!” He grinned, slinging an arm over the boy who looked as though he wanted to leave immediately.

After introducing themselves, the three of them, headed for the gymnasium with Kenma lagging behind. It seemed he was distracted by a game on his phone.

She felt nervous, walking next to this boy who she’d never seen before today. Not to mention how tall he was; if she’d turn her head to the side, his shoulder would block her view.

“Say..” She began, aware of his gaze turning towards her. “Is there a reason why you waited until now to recruit a manager?”

“Well, we usually do all the manager work ourselves.” He admitted. “But for us to grow as a team, we need every member - even the substitutes - focused on enhancing their skills.”

She had never involved herself in something like this before, having no idea that it required this level of perseverance. She wondered if this new role of hers would inspire her to pursue a goal of her own.

“..And why did you wait until now to join a club?” He teased, almost scoldingly.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she raised a hand to rub her neck, eyes locked onto the hallway in front of her. She didn’t even think about turning to face him – not from this close.

“I don’t know.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “I guess I’m a bit lazy.”

Through a sideways glance, she caught a glimpse of a smile forming on his lips. “To be honest with you, some guys on our team want a female manager” He blurted out casually.

Eyes wide with surprise, she giggled “What?”

Listening as Kuroo explained the situation with Karasuno’s manager – forming an unspoken rivalry between two boys on each team.

As the minutes passed, her speech began to flow more than usual. She hadn’t expected to be this at ease when talking to somebody new – especially someone who seemed as intense as he did. She found herself sneaking glances at him as he spoke, her gaze lingering longer each time.

He continued, answering her basic questions about volleyball theatrically. The corners of her lips curved upwards as she was unable to stop the constant laughs escaping her as he spoke.

Their walk to the gymnasium seemed to last way longer than any usual circumstance. Their initial brisk pace gradually slowed down.

As he spoke, it was as though he singlehandedly untied the knot in her chest. It was then when she began noticing the smallest things. The way his genuine laughter would sound in her ears, the brightness in his eyes despite their oak hue, the softness in his expression when he spoke of his friends on the team. The way he’d lean over to hear her when she wasn’t clear enough.

Amongst dozens of students passing by, each engrossed in their own conversations, and through all the lingering shouts and laughter, her attention remained focused on him.

And just like that, he introduced her to the rest of the team. Met with a warm welcome, she didn’t feel any of the pressure she had imagined.

She watched as they trained, playing practice matches on a weekly basis with multiple other schools, each team member striving to work on their weaknesses.

Alongside her new friendships with the team members, something separate happened to be blooming on the side.

Whether during class time or practice – it became a joke amongst the team members that if you saw Kuroo, you’d probaby see her, and vice versa.

“Kuroo, eyes on the ball!” Yaku shouted from behind the defence line.

He was usually hyper-focused when on the court. Though, something had uncharacteristically been weighing down his thoughts lately.

The libero’s shout broke Kuroo’s distraction, and with a forward glance, the flying spike rushed into his face and sent him to the ground.

“You okay?” Taketora yelled from the opposite side of the net.

“I’m fine..” He replied, standing back up despite feeling a little dizzy.

“Someone’s been pretty distracted lately.” Yaku teased, walking up to Kuroo and slapping his back.

“Excuse me?” He defensively responds, crossing his arms. “Kenma, you tell them.”

“He’s always talking about our manager.”

“Hey!”               

The rest of the team bursts out in laughter as not even Kenma could disagree that he’d definitely been distracted by something lately.

As if right on cue, she walked into the gym holding water bottles for the team, handing one to each of them as they regrouped for a break. His eyes softened upon seeing her face again, something that he’d been doing subconsciously as of late. Upon handing him a bottle, she noticed his face was visibly wounded.

“Did you hurt yourself?!” She gasped, leaning forward for a closer look.

Kuroo’s eyes widened, darting to the side “I’m good..!” He nervously chuckled, taking a gulp of water. He knew he was distracted and was well aware of how he was acting – especially around her.

Bright lights, roaring crowds and dozens of teams, each representing their prefecture. 52 whole teams. It was one of the first times she’d been somewhere so intense, and although she wasn’t playing, she felt extremely nervous.

Nekoma had made it to the quarterfinals – facing their long awaited opponents. She heard about the rivalry from Coach Nekomata; she could only imagine the stress weighing down on the shoulders of both teams.

Though, she herself had been thinking of something for a while. After clarifying with one of the team members, he confirmed that this would be the last match for the third years unless they make it through.

That also meant her last match as Kuroo’s manager.

She had a feeling that he’d been thinking of the same thing as well. Though, she’d avoided mentioning it. If she was the captain of a team playing a national match that generations had been waiting to see, she’d probably try to drown out distractions.

All she could do was sit on the bench, record details, and  keep things organised for their time-outs.

She watched as each team fought tooth and nail for every point, treating each play like it was their last. The tension weighed heavy, Nekomas persistent defence paired with Karasuno’s intense offence. Every point scored, every set passed inched closer to the conclusion of the match.

Then it came – Karasuno’s match point of the last set. Gripping her book and pen tightly in her hands, her eyes darted across the court, following the course of the ball. Both teams’ exhaustion was reaching its limit.  

She watched as Kenma briskly stepped back, raising his arms for a set as Taketora ran outwards for a quick start to his jump. It all happened so quickly – the next thing she knew, the ball had hit the floor on their side of the net.

Everyone seemed to pause for a moment, taking time to process everything that had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

The whistle sounded, marking the end of the match. She watched as the boys shook hands with the opposing team, not a single one bearing a semblance of anger at the other.

Remaining seated on the bench, her lips began to quiver. She kept her gaze downwards at her feet, her vision becoming clouded by the layer of tears glossing her eyes.

The team then regrouped in front of the coach to hear a few words from him. She stood beside them, unable to look anyone in the eye; she flicked through her book, making annotations here and there to keep herself distracted.

He had noticed her uncharacteristic silence - usually, she’d be all over the place, making jokes and whatnot. Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she had been so quiet.

As she stood behind the bench, stuffing her notebook and pen into her backpack, she noticed a familiar pair of black shoes in her peripheral.

Looking up at him, she felt tears intensely well up in her eyes, once again distorting her sight.

“Kuroo, I-“

“Not here.” He said gently “Let’s go.”

She followed him as he guided her into the hallway, voices and cheers from the court muffling, and the crowds decreasing. In front of him, she crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to communicate her feelings.

“Come on, why the tears?” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and gently rocking back and forth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the calm and collected manager?”

She sniffed, managing a stifled giggle. Loosening his hold around her, he pulled back momentarily.

She wiped her tears before finally looking up at him. He met her eyes with an expression that read ‘I know’.

“I’ll still be around. After I graduate..” Pausing, his voice softened “..And even after you graduate.”

“It won’t be the same..”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

[sharkneto]

Hey, sorry if this is a bit of a personal question - and feel free to ignore it if it is - but how did you know you wanted to start hrt? I am someone who IDs as transmasc and knows in an ideal world, I would've loved to have been born a guy. But the idea of going on hormones is terrifying because I can't figure out if I really want it... I worry about regretting it, or it making me 'unappealing' physically, or my friends judging me for it. Did you ever struggle with similar worries?

I think every person thinking about and starting HRT goes through this. A rite of passage, if you will, and also not a bad thing to do. HRT is a big step, some of the changes (especially on T) are irreversible. It's good to think through if it's a choice that's right for you or not.

That said, it's also Just A Thing You Can Do. I first started really questioning my gender at the end of 2020 (thank you, Elliot Page, for coming out and making me go "oh shit, you can do that?"). I got a therapist to talk about gender... Mid 2022? And started hormones spring 2023, top surgery a year later.

Before getting the therapist, I spent over a year Just Thinking About It. And a lot of the thoughts were around the changes on T and if I'd like them or not or if I'd regret them. If I'd be ugly, after being conventionally attractive as a woman.

It hits a point, though, where eventually you have to pull the plug one way or another. I spent a lot of time thinking about how my body would change on T. A Lot. With longing. I caught myself putting things off Until I Knew For Sure and because I didn't want to do it while being perceived as a woman. I was sitting, treading water for a hypothetical Later that I could start moving towards at any time. I was scared for the Teenage Round 2 phase, and didn't want to spend months being "ugly and awkward", but then the months passed anyway and I was still in the same spot.

HRT isn't an all-or-nothing thing, you can ease into it on a low dose. My doctor started me on a low dose and we ramped up over months. Some T changes can start pretty quickly (voice dropping, bottom growth - this isn't true for everyone, but was true for me). If these changes excite you, make you feel good - great! Keep going! If they scare you, feel wrong - stop. Assess. Figure out what about it isn't right (a gender therapist for all of this process is a Huge Help). In early days if you stop T, the changes can revert, for the most part. But you can always stop at any time.

The bigger thing I actively worked to wrap my head around before starting HRT is - Who Cares If You're Wrong? What's right for you now might not be right for you later. The idea of detransitioning was scary to me, society has such a weird spotlight on it, the Right uses people who have detransitioned as props against transition. But it shouldn't matter. At the end of the day, if I do change my mind, I'll know myself better, and I don't think it's wrong to chase and find comfort in your own body.

A year+ on T, I've mostly made it through the ugly duck phase, I think. I was lucky, I didn't get bad acne or get too oily or anything (after having horrible acne in my first puberty). Most of what I dealt with was the chronic baby face, where I was getting read as male but a teenager - I'm almost 30 and a woman wanted to card me over a free T-shirt at a baseball game because it had beer logos on it. After some middle months of changes and going "oh my god what am I doing" and not feeling confident in how this was all going to turn out, I think of myself as relatively attractive and I think I'm just going to get more vain as my beard comes in. Some of that is physical, sure, but I think a significant amount of that is me feeling more confident in myself and liking the body I'm in more. I was never a selfie or picture person, now I am. I joke I'm like a budgie, always looking at myself if there's a reflective surface nearby. I'm more excited to exercise, I'm interested in lifting weights for the first time, I'm curious what my body on T can do and become. Keep your eyes on the pieces that are going well, the changes exciting you, and let the rest catch up.

My social circle helped a lot. I'm very lucky and blessed to have great friends and family, all of whom are supportive. If you don't have friends who are supportive of you, that are judging you for exploring yourself rather than lifting you up for it, it's a sign to expand the social circle and find ones that are. Family is harder, but that's a thing you have to navigate for yourself and find your own boundaries for.

So, there's no ~one moment~ where you're 100% certain that medical transition is right for you. It's a huge unknown and you're changing the body you've had your entire life. At some point, though, you just have to jump and see how it lands. Part of being alive is making mistakes and doing things you might regret.

That said, the regret rate for trans people is something like 3%. The regret rate for knee surgery is something like 20%. Trust yourself.

[vzajemnik]

starting to let myself truly believe he wants me for real and is truly having the same revelation i did a month ago

[scuddle-bubble101]

WHY CANT I MAKE MY CAPS BIGGER TO MATCH MY EXCITEMNT AND HAPPY TEARSSSS

JINX IS F*CKING ADORABLE AND WE LOVE HER ALREADY

Hope it's not disrespectful to ask though, how does am alter giving birth make sense? I'm not the best taught and you don't have to answer ofc, I'm just curious

(Also not sure if we can swear on ur blog)

(I'm gonna answer this one. No offense, but this question might make the new papas a little uncomfortable ;w;!)

Again, I don't like answering sys questions as the stuff we are witnessing is more or less in proper context [the past... And, it makes me and my system extremely uncomfortable to explain how we exist lol. We didn't sign up to be teachers.] but! To answer your question. Alters have their own worlds they belong to, they come and go as they please and visit when they want. I can't be anymore specific than that really. Stick and Matrix are their own people, me and Pen know this personally, I will not explain further on this. They simply do as they want. You already know how babies are made, it isn't rocket science.

ps. Swearing is allowed :] If you could hear the amount of times I've heard straight up ALL THE COLOURFUL language under the sun, I'd be living in a mansion X'D

[softmoonlite]

i’m always so confused as to why ppl keep asking if yixing is gonna be in the comeback. like i’ll always be ot9 forever but he did leave sm so like why would he be in the comeback?

idk i just think it’s funny when ppl are like “he left sm not the group” bc i personally feel like ppl are misinterpreting his letter. like obvs he loves the members and in that sense will always be there for them but i don’t actually think that means being part of the group musically (if that makes sense?).

and i also feel like it’s just fans not wanting to accept that he left, which i get that it may suck, especially if you’ve been an exol for so long. but i think in some way it’s sort of disrespectful to yixing to be like “yeah he’s part of exo” when he’s not in any promotions, songs, nor being paid as an “active” member. and like with the way sm has treated all of exo, i wouldn’t wanna be part of that company either lmaooo

also; not that exols have to listen to his solo work, but clearly his own music style (that he enjoys to make) is different from exo’s so it also makes sense as to why he isn’t currently in the groups discography.

so yeah idk i just feel like a lot of fans/exols are deluding themselves and need to accept that he left, which is okay bc at least he didn’t leave on bad terms. and just bc he isn’t part of the group doesn’t mean that his past work with them is any less real. and most importantly he still continues to support the rest of the 8 and they support him so that’s what should really matter! (in their hearts it’s still ot9 😤💓)

[taintedsoul-if]

how will male ro react if female mc asks for open relationship and want or*y with many mens infront of ro's?

Anon squash that thought because that will never happen. No man/woman/person in their right mind would want to see their spouse being treated like a slab of meat. I write nsfw content but I cross the line when it comes on to orgy/sex party.

I am only writing one poly route and that is Cadmus and Atticus. There will be no outsiders in the ROs relationship route. Many would feel turned on in such a situation but unfortunately I don't. This is not some kind of erotic/porn script that is being written. I won't even bother to even give reactions to this kind of ask because in my eyes this is downright insulting/disrespecting my characters.

Anon I am a peaceful person. I do not have the time to have unnecessary arguments with people online. Please respect my characters and me as a writer and don't ask me things like this ever again.

Have a pleasant day and goodbye.

[noahsfault]

Queer 👏 people 👏 are 👏 not 👏 all 👏 fucking 👏 activists 👏

Stop quizzing us on queer history and asking us questions we aren’t qualified to answer about the world and about politics and about our identities

Stop trying to back us into a corner so you can justify your discrimination on the basis that we don’t know what we’re talking about or can’t “defend” ourselves to you

Stop treating every queer person that stands up and says “I want to be treated like a person” as if they’re an activist

Cut that bullshit out

Marginalised people just want to exist and be happy

I don’t know everything, and that doesn’t make me undeserving of your respect or my human rights you fucker

I don’t even owe you the stuff I do know- I still am entitled to basic fucking respect

TLDR; Queer people shouldn’t have to be historians or scientists for you to not be a fucking dick

[lilgynt]

oh so crazy my coworker friend was asking about my date and we’re discussing that i mention the location another coworker jumps into the discussion starts talking at length about his old job there so i talk to him about that for a bit and then go back to my original coworker to talk about my date he comes into the convo again showing photos of said job and it was like uh? oKay????

[purgaytorysupremacy]

crowley telling dean that the problem is that no one hates him more than he hates himself except it's my self-talk on the bus ride home from my grad school's program orientation.

[linecoveredinjellyfish]

i'm founding a new school of media criticism which i've decided to call Bitism. the Bitist school of literary analysis asks a simple question: is this work committed to the bit?

you see, any work of fiction is either committed to the bit or it's not. the worst thing a piece of media can be is ashamed of its own premise, of the genre it in habits, of the tropes and aesthetics we expect from it. to be committed to the bit does not inherently make it good, but it makes it more worthy of respect than those which are not.

also, that's not to say that a story cannot parody or criticize the genre it inhabits or mimics. we can discuss the bit, we can deconstruct the bit, we can ask ourselves whether or not it's a good bit, but to commit to it first will strengthen these discussions, not detract from them. commitment to the bit is, after all, the first step to genuine sincerity. and sincerity will exalt and elevate parody such that it can stand on its own feet.

commitment to the bit turns melodrama into camp, elevates parody to biting commentary, and allows cringe to open up into a resonant, if unpolished, expression of true emotion.

fully expect bitism to take the literary world by storm sometime in the next few years.

[leilansdream]

Interesting! I don't see it like that entirely though... Agatha's trial ended the moment she reacted to Nicolas's name. That's when she stopped taking the energy from Alice. Yes, Alice was already dead, but what made Agatha stop and the door opened, is still her own will to stop her actions, like if her love of her son was able to counter-balance the impulsiveness of her inate powers. At least, that's how i see it... (but i'm not sure)

Still, there is something that feels unfinished with her trial, something different indeed, something not settled. So I wonder what it means... I am still not certain if her trial is truly over?

ANd like you and others, I feel like her trial was different. So was it controled by the Seven? Or by other characters? It's an interesting avenue to look into!!!

Isn't it interesting that the trials for the Potion Witch, Protection Witch and Divination Witch all helped the characters.

Jennifer, Alice and Lilia all worked through their past trauma and got closure for some of what happened to them. Despite what happened to Alice and Lilia, the trials themselves helped them move through their personal obstacles.

Yet, Agatha's trial was designed to punish her.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Telling The LADS Men to Ditch The Condom

Them reacting to you saying you want them to fuck you raw. Warnings : MDNI, sex, oral, handjob, and general smut These banners are mine, please do not reuse them.

Zayne, as a doctor, preached safe sex. He appreciates the responsibility and nothing is more attractive to him than a woman who is aware of her birth control options and doesn’t mind communicating openly with him about these decisions. After all, having sex was such an intimate act for him that he wouldn’t even think about it until you’d been dating for at least a month. He likes the exclusivity and the closeness of sex, and that includes being held accountable for the choices both of you made in the bedroom. So when you tell him to lose the condom, he blinks, making sure he hasn’t misheard you.

“You…want to do it without a condom?”

His head is between your thighs, kissing and nibbling the soft flesh as he edges his way towards the moist and sensitive folds, and he raises up on his elbows to ensure his ears aren’t being obstructed by your legs.

You nod slowly, blushing as his dark eyes fixated on yours, the flecks of amber in them lightening at the idea. His pupils dilate at your affirmation, and he hoists himself up a little higher, resting on your belly, gently stroking your flanks. “You’re sure about this? There’s no pressure you know.”

“I know. But I feel like we’ve been together long enough to allow ourselves to go one step further. And I’m on the pill. We can monitor the situation later if you want to but honestly Zayne, I think any step I take with you isn’t going to be something I regret.” You say the words candidly, reaching down to stroke his black, silky, locks of hair, heart skipping a beat as he plays with the squish of your belly, nuzzling his face into the softness. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

His eyes flutter closed for a second, the ebony eyelashes resting like fans on his cheekbones before he sighs, the little puff of air sending a shiver across your middle. He crawls up towards your face, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss, tongue sliding across the slit of your lips before entering inside. You cup his face and deepen the kiss, heat gathering in your body. Zayne pulls away only to come to your ear, hot breath tickling you as he speaks.

“I don’t think I’ll regret this either.” He licks the shell of your ear, making you twitch. “But remember, if you change your mind, I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

His words are so sincere and spoken with love, adding fuel to the fire. Zayne, patient and considerate, is looking at you with those sharp eyes as if you’re his last meal on earth. He kisses his way down, pausing briefly to shower some attention over your perked nipples, giving them soft licks and kisses that make you mewl and whine with need. Once he’s back at his original spot between your legs, your arousal has increased a hundredfold, your sex soft and swollen, leaking fluid as he parts your folds.

His tongue darts out, tasting you, licking slow lines from cunt to clit, before slurping the swollen pearl into his mouth, suctioning it with his lips. His middle finger flirts with your entrance, teasing it until it starts sucking in his fingertip, drawing a moan from you as he strokes it along your upper wall.

Zayne knew his anatomy and he never wasted a second in touching you exactly in the spot that made you feel like you were turning into a pile of goo. Never in a hurry, always taking his time, coaxing orgasms from you like a hobby, the breath tearing from your throat, your core spasming from the pleasurable waves that radiate throughout your body. Zayne nudges you through the final vestiges of your orgasm before stroking himself, readying his hardened cock.

He’s done this before but what gets to him as he aligns his tip with your hot entrance is how heightened the sensation is, the absence of latex allowing him to profoundly feel every muscle contract and fully experience how wet and welcoming your body truly was. He grits his teeth, his balls throbbing, desire surging through his veins, almost snapping his self-control.

He inches in slowly, splitting you apart, marveling at how you stretch to fit him, the little noises that leave your throat music to his ears. Once fully sheathed, he looks at you, hair tousled and splayed across the pillow, a flush across your face. He thrusts with care, drawing a moan of longing from you and softly rolls his hips, adjusting himself at an angle he knew you liked.

Every movement brushed his mushroomhead against your gspot, soft sighs filling the air, his lips descending onto yours, his thumb working your clit, gradually bringing up your pleasure to another peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he pants, his thrusts becoming steadily faster, his willpower fading away to primal need. “Taking me so well,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

Your body is reeling from the stimulation and with Zayne’s gentle ministrations on your clit you cum with a cry, his hips stuttering as he feels the orgasmic spasms of your core around his cock. He tries to hold on, but it’s too much, his head growing sensitive as your second orgasm sucks him in deeper into your warmth, his balls tightening up and the coil in his belly compressed to a limit until it snaps, and with a grunt, he spills himself into your body.

Afterwards, he holds you tenderly, gently easing out, and cleaning up your messy slit with a warm washcloth, playing with your hair until the both of you fall asleep.

This is a man who’s been taught condoms are the best way to avoid complications. It’s a golden rule that he will not have unprotected sex for both health reasons and to avoid making the person he’s with uncomfortable. You don’t have condoms? He’s running to the pharmacy to get some. He takes these things seriously and understands that it’s simply gentlemanly to be the one to buy condoms. Xavier wants to feel like he can be relied on in situations like this and that you should never feel awkward asking him to make a condom run or any kind of run.

He’s reaching for the box to roll one onto himself when you hold his wrist. Curiously, he looks at you, a sight to behold, a heavenly sight laying on his bed, lips plump and swollen from his kisses, body glistening with sweat from your recent orgasm.

“Ditch the condom Xav,” you murmur, tracing his arm with your fingers, causing goosebumps to bloom on his skin, his usually slow heartbeat picking up a few paces.

“Are you sure angel?” He lays down gathering you in his arms, his erection tickling your belly as he breathes in the perfume of your hair.

“Positive.” You stroke his cheek reassuringly, feeling like you could drown in the depths of his blue eyes, unable to control the little giggle that leaves your throat as he blushes at your confirmation.

“Xavier.” You grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never been more sure. I know I can trust you, rely on you. And right now, I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel you inside me, no barriers.”

He’s shy, his smile so awkward and his face so pink. This was new to him, and the fact that you’re asking so sweetly is pulling at his heartstrings. After hesitating for another moment he places the condom back on the nightstand.

“All right angel. Since you're sure. But tell me if you feel uncomfortable at all ok?” Xavier rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones in circles, a sweet and tender gesture, carefully laying over you, his chest coming into contact with yours as he tips your face up for a kiss, his hands slipping under you and clasping your shoulder blades to bring your body as close to his as he could.

While his tongue explored your mouth, he raises slightly on his knees and effortlessly finds your moist entrance with his tip savoring each tiny inch that envelopes his cock with aching warmth. He's unable to control the sigh that escapes his lips, lost in your mouth as he feels the wet muscles contract around him, pulling him in. The feeling is inexplicable, the intimacy of skin on skin making him feel heady and light, heart racing in his chest.

His brilliant blue eyes begin to darken at the edges, turning into a darker shade of midnight as he bottoms out, little noises of contentment resounding in your throat as you feel the hot velvet column of his cock fill you, feel the way it pulses as he occupies your pussy.

“Xav… You feel amazing,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, his hips coming to lay flush against yours as he thrusts into you, stroking your inner walls and teasing all the right spots inside you. He's hot and flushed, watching your face as it contorts in pleasure, his blush settling across his cheeks and nose like adorable pink freckles. You smile hazily as him and his head dips down to suckle as nipple, his tongue caressing the little bud, turning your moans into sighs of longing.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit you almost cry out from the pleasure of it all, every sensitive spot being hit at the same time with aching perfection. His breath mingles with yours, sweat forming on both your bodies as you rock against each other, creating delicious friction, matching the other rhythm for rhythm, strike against long stroke.

The edges of your vision blur as your climax grows nearer and Xavier’s jaw grows tight, a moan escaping his lips as he tries to hang on, determined not to climaxes before you. His thumb picks up its pace and with a shaky gasp, your orgasm hits, the sweetness of it making you sob as it grips you, feeling your core spasm, and with a final push of triumph, he allows himself to succumb to his own desires, cock twitching and spasming along with your pussy as he cums, coating your walls with his seed.

Tired, he collapses on top of you as gracefully as he can, your hands and soothingly rubbing over his back, kissing his hair, murmuring praise to him as he floats down from his high.

“Angel…you're so wonderful. The best.” his head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he tries to grasp into reality. You can't help but laugh lightly. Xavier always gets pussy drunk and now without the condom it appeared to accelerate to an entirely fucked out state.

His eyes gleam like sapphires as his breathing returns to normal. “Well how am I supposed to be the guy making the condom run now after knowing what it feels like without one?”

You roll your eyes affectionately at him and flick his forehead.

Rafayel isn't unfamiliar with sex and intimate relationships but he doesn't often engage in them. He's quite shy and doesn't tell you what he's thinking. With patience and a little experimentation, Rafayel slowly came out of his shell and learned to feel comfortable enough with you to express his desires and wants. However, he's nervous about how you'll react to him admitting he's been wondering how it would be without a condom so he clams up.

His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half lidded, whining as he rests between your legs, his back against your chest as you pump his erection with aching perfection.

“Feeling good baby?” You coo at him as he writhes under yourself ministrations at your mercy.

“Yeah… So close… Don't stop… “ he pants, hips desperately thrusting up to meet your strokes, feeling his thigh muscles quiver and his abs growing tighter with each passing second.

“Talk to me Raffy… how good am I making you feel?”

“So good…” His eyes, a lovely shade of lavender gray are starting to turn into smoke as his impending climax builds and rises. His cheeks are flushed and there's sweat on his forehead and chest from the exertion, the gentle crescendo of pleasure building to a steady peak.

He gazes up at you in a haze, those adorably plump lips parted as he gasps for air.

“You're so pretty when you pout you know?” you ask teasingly and as predicted his brow furrows, displeased at your amusement.

“Don't… say things like… that!” the color in his cheeks rises and your own control slips slightly as you lean down to give an admonishing nibble on his lower lip. The extra stimulation is enough to push him over the edge and with a groan he pulses, his cock warm and needy in your palm, spilling his cum into your hand.

Your clean hand plays with his pretty hair as you continue to pump him with care ensuring he rides out every drop of his orgasm, a few more more spurts of viscous fluid leaking from his tip before stopping.

Rafayel relaxes on your lap as you reach over to grab a tissue and wipe off your hand. His eyes linger on your messy hand, sticky with his arousal and he feels his cock twitch despite having just cum.

“I wonder what it would look like slipping out of your pussy instead of your hand,” he says in a quiet pondering voice that has you pausing, a wicked grin forming on your face.

“Raffy… Did you just say you wanted to fuck me without a condom?” You emphasize the word ‘fuck’ on purpose because of how flustered he gets when he hears it and sure enough, he pouts, a noise of embarrassment escaping his lips, rolling onto his side to hide his face.

You quickly discard the used tissue and lay down to face him, pulling his struggling hands away from his face which looks like a setting sun now, adorably flushed, eyes bright and averted.

“Raffy tell me what you want.” You reassuringly pull closer to him, nuzzling his warm neck.

His cheek rests on the top of your head and with a sigh he admits with a hint of bashfulness, “I fantasize about it sometimes. But we don't have to,” he adds quickly.

Your laughter is muffled by his neck as you lean back to look at him. “I think we've been together long enough to discuss doing it raw.” You look at him imploringly.

“Cmon baby. We can ditch the condom today. I kinda want to know what it feels like too.”

His smokey lavender roam over your face, still carrying hints of hesitation in them. “You're sure? You're not just doing this because I want to right?”

“Oh Raffy. There's never been a day where you've made me feel forced to do anything. I'm very sure.” You cup his face between both your hands and gaze at him lovingly.

He laughs awkwardly, smiling shyly and you feel his erection press against your thigh as the both of you draw in for a kiss, Rafayel pulls your knee over his hip, stroking your moist folds with his cock. You whine in pleasure as he holds his cockhead up to your clit and you slide along his length, both of you sighing passionately at the intimate touch. His engorged tip cups the base of your clit so perfectly and you feel your core clench in anticipation.

Rafayel drags his length between your folds one more time before sliding down to your needy hole, groaning as your wet heat circles his tip. You push down on him, feeling the heat of his member, enjoying the way he fills you so wonderfully, his head sitting snug against your gspot.

The thrusts were shallow in this position but it allows you to snuggle into his chest, look deeply into his eyes and kiss him at leisure, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you with aching precision. He toys with your clit , pinching and rolling it for your pleasure.

He's amazed at how good you feel, how tight you are around his length, how wet you really are. The condom almost dulled this sensation and it feels like he's woken from a dream and experiencing reality for the first time.

Your orgasm hits sharply, making you cry out and cling to him the combined fondling of your clit and gspot too much for handle. As it starts to settle down you moan in his ear.

“Baby… Give it to me. I want to know what your cum slipping out of my pussy feels like too. Please… Cum for me… Like how I came for you…”

Your voice is whiny and pleading and Rafayel's hips stutter as he reaches his peak, letting out noises of his pleasure into your ear as he cums, and you feel his hot seed fill your eager pussy. As the both of you catch your breath, kissing each other in the afterglow, everything feels right.

Rafayel's erection softens and as it happens you feel the unmistakable feeling of your combined cum sliding out of your pussy, pooling at the crevice of your thigh.

“That's so hot,” you murmur and from Rafayel's expression he's thinking the same thing. He gathers a little bit of your mixed fluids on his finger, fascinatedly tasting it, his eyes intoxicated at the flavor.

“See what happens when you tell me what you want?” you strokes his arm. He nods then gets close to your ear.

“I don't think I want to use a condom ever again.”

Sylus is that guy who loves going in raw but only if he's sure you're into him. And despite the talk of him being the ruthless leader of Onychinus, he's a true gentleman and would never bring the topic of having unprotected sex unless you initiate it. He prides himself on being someone you look to for security amidst the chaos in the N109 zone.

His fingers are knuckle deep into your pussy, wet squelching noises filling the air as his long fingers expertly tease that bundle of nerves inside you while his thumb rubs circles on your clit drawing out a moan of longing from you, your walls clenching around his thick fingers.

“That's it good girl… Give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles in approval as you writhe desperately on his fingers feeling your body tense in anticipation at what was to come.

His lips hover over your collarbone nibbling leisurely and you roll your hips, moaning as your climax washes over you, pussy spasming from the gratification.

He licks his fingers clean, savoring the tang of your arousal before pulling you in for a deep kiss, pulling you snugly against his chest, and pressing kisses to your hair. You taste the musky flavor of your orgasm, transferred from his tongue to yours.

Your hands are already busy with his cock, tickling his thighs and cupping his balls drawing a chuckle from him.

“Easy kitten. We have all night.” His tongue slips between your lips again and gives you a sloppy kiss, a noise of delight leaving you as you stroke the hot velvet of his cock.

“Sylus?” you stroke him in a steady rhythm that has him humming, the noise sounding like a cat purring, his abs contracting in response to your touch.

“Yes doll?” he licks and nibbles down the side of your neck making you shiver. His crimson eyes fixate on you as you hesitate to speak.

“What is it? You know I'll do anything for you right?” He grasps your chin firmly and makes eye contact, feeling flattered when you blush, your nipples perked from your recent orgasm, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, looking divine.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“Um… How would you feel if… we didn't… Useprotection?” the last few words are said in a rush, and your cheeks grow hot as you make your request. It's not normal for you to feel so shy, after all Sylus was incredibly open to experimentation and exploring kinks with you. But there was something so personal about asking this of him, letting a part of him sit within you so intimately and the vulnerability made you feel exposed.

Sylus rises a contemplative eyebrow, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he sees how flustered you're getting.

“The kitten has gotten bold,” he says approvingly. “You wish to have all of me? Feel my cock in all it's exposed glory inside your wet little cunt?”

The crudeness of his words sends a rush of arousal straight into your already dripping core. Heat fills your cheeks and you slap his shoulder.

“Don't say it like that!”

“isn't it the truth though?” Sylus rolls you on top of him as he lays back against the pillows, enjoying the view of your soft body. “Don't you want to feel every inch of my veiny cock fill you, rub your sensitive walls and fuck you senseless? All the while your tight little pussy keeps getting wetter for me and you can't do anything except helplessly moan and let me stuff you with my seed?”

His ruby eyes glitter sinfully as he watches you squirm under his gaze. How cute. His fingers idly stroke your sides, your hands full of his cock but momentarily frozen from his teasing.

“Don't feel like you have to stop on account of me sweetie,” he prompts, then can't stop himself from laughing as you hasten to continue with your strokes. “You fluster so easily.”

“Anyone would if spoken to that way!”

“Oh no sweetie. I doubt anyone else would have such an adorable reaction. Why can't you just admit that you want me in you, no barriers, just raw and primal like animals?”

Your nails scratch over his abs, feeling them quiver. “If you don't want to just say so.”

“Don't be that way.” His red eyes narrow, hands tightening around your waist. “You know I want to.” His large hands cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Then why do you keep laughing like it's funny?” you whine as he twists your nipples, and grind his upper thigh.

Sylus's eyes soften slightly before he leans up to kiss a nipple and pull it softly with his lips. “Mhm… Sy…” your nails scratch his scalp as you cradle his head.

He lets go and blows a puff of air over the hardened peak, causing it to perk up more before circling it with his thumb. “I adore you doll. It’s not that I find it funny. I'm very flattered that you want me that way. But if I let my desire for you consume me, you may find yourself pushed to a limit.”

He traces a finger from between your breasts down to your navel. “You may find me… being rough. More than you're used to. Because kitten…” he leans up with you balanced on his body and with a soft tickle of hot breath on your ear that has you jerking slightly in surprise, he says in a feral whisper, “the thought of burying myself in your cunt with no condom on, feeling how you clench and get turned on for me makes me want to eat you alive.”

Blood rushes to your face and Sylus watches with satisfaction. He caresses your cheek. “Ride me kitten.”

His eyes darken as you glance at him under lowered lashes. You crawl over his body on your hands and knees hovering your slick core over his hard length. He sucks in a breath as you lower your hips, teasingly brushing his tip against your wet hole, the sensation of so inviting it takes all his willpower not to slam into you mercilessly. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was on top, wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking. Putting you in control was the wise choice here.

“Fuck kitten,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so good. So wet for me.”

Sylus's cock stretches you deliciously as you take him in, feeling his veins and heat pulsate achingly inside you. You whine as you fit him in, you whine each time because he's just so big, and it takes a while to adjust and take him. It never fails to make him smirk but today he's watching intently wondering how he's supposed to last with your pussy gripping him like a glove and enveloping him with your needy heat.

When you finally bottom out, both of you take a collective breath and feeling so full, feeling how he fits inside you. Resting your palms on his chest you start to move, lifting your body up feeling him stroke your inner walls and start to ride him.

You start slow, setting a pace that has him groaning, holding your hips so tightly it hurt but you continue, angling your body until you feel his engorged head brush your gspot. His teeth are gritted as he slips a finger between your legs and finds your hardened clit, stroking it to match your movements.

The texture of his cock has you moaning, his gentle movements on your clit pushing you closer to him edge. Sylus lets out a hiss of air, trying not to disturb your pace but his will is being ripped to shreds.

You were so warm. So tight and wet. And claiming you without a condom in his opinion only solidified further that you were his. Marked, claimed, and rightfully his in the most biblical sense.

Your pace picks up as you ride him, needing more friction pathetic noises leaving your throat as you chase your orgasm. Your thighs quiver and burn from the effort but you're so close that you push through the pain, gasping as Sylus firmly presses into the little bud.

“You're so cute like this, struggling on my cock. Let go for me sweetie… Make a mess all over me.”

His words are a sinful request mingling with the sounds of slapping skin and lewd noises of need. With a loud breath of desire, you cum all over him, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable spasms that rock your body.

It's too much for Sylus to handle, and taking advantage of your momentary lack of movements, he thrusts upwards into you, fucking you through your orgasm desperate to cum with you.

The absence of the condom aids him and with a loud bark he feels his balls tightening and his orgasm hits him like a train, holding you tightly as pleasure flows through him, his seed filling into your needy pussy.

Fuck he was addicted. He rolls you onto the bed and holds you close to him.

“You're going to be the death of me kitten.”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[orcboxer]

Okay let me try this one again. The Trolley Problem sets up a scenario that sucks to be in. You either kill one guy, or you kill five guys. Nobody likes these options. We all don't want this be happening. That's kind of the point. It's a moral quandary. It's supposed to feel bad.

Now, according to a recent post floating around on tumblr, choosing either of the two options demonstrates "learned helplessness" and makes you a neolib sheep. The only correct answer, the post states, is to reject the question altogether. (Or to change the parameters of the question to include an option that saves everyone, thus eliminating the moral quandary.)

It sounds nice, doesn't it? Fuck this bad situation, we control our imaginations, so let's imagine a situation that doesn't suck. Hah! Bet you didn't think of that!

Here's the problem. Even though I think most situations generally have at least one solution that is both Feasible and Not Terrible, I have to admit that there are some situations (as in, not zero of them) where all the feasible options are unpleasant. This is a natural consequence of living in a world where A Lot Of Things Suck.

But if shitty situations do exist, even if it's super super rare, then it's not unreasonable to ask, "How should we make decisions when we find ourselves in a shitty situation?"

This is the beginning premise of the Trolley Problem. It says, "Hey what if you were in an unambiguously shitty situation? There are many shitty situations, so let's imagine one that is contrived enough to get everyone on the same page regardless of political affiliation, AND really emphasizes the key parts that I want to discuss."

Tumblr says "let me stop you right there. What if instead...we imagined a different scenario that wasn't as shitty?"

Well, okay, but then we're not talking about the same thing anymore. That doesn't actually count as an answer to the problem, you're just changing the subject to a completely different thing.

Tumblr goes on to say, "Exactly. That's the only thing you should ever do when confronted with an ethical quandary. Frankly the fact that you are willing to even consider a scenario that sucks suggests that you are fundamentally incapable of considering less shitty scenarios."

I just want to say I think that's bullshit. I don't think every problem is a trolley problem, but I do think that some problems are a trolley problem. And I think that those problems are worth discussing, even though they don't feel good. The trolley problem exists as a framework to discuss those problems.

Maybe our aversion to difficult decisions has an impact on our ethical reasoning, and maybe we should actually question how our ethical standards hold up under the weight of that aversion. So maybe moral quandaries like the trolley problem are worth discussing. And if you don't want to engage with the quandary, then don't - you don't have to concoct a whole essay about how the quandary is inherently morally bad.

It's possible that what you really want to say is that it sucks when people treat certain situations as trolley problems, when those specific situations actually do contain unambiguously feasible and unambiguously perfect solutions. I would agree with that.

But like. Let's not pretend that you can reduce all of ethics down to unchallenging black and white moralism.