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bill-the-dog-for-the-check · 2 months

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I want to go back to how things were.

I want to go back to when I believed that the progressives were on the right side of history, fighting against oppression in all its forms, and had critical thinking, honest compassion, and understanding in a way that the right--inundated with racist conspiracy theories and absurd lies--did not.

In many ways, I'm a perfect demographic fit in the pro-Palestine circles. I'm bisexual. I'm a young university student who's been progressive for as long as he knew what progressivism was, and I never experienced genuine economic insecurity or wondered if I'd eat that night. In another timeline, maybe I'd be there marching and shouting their horrible slogans. But there's one, teeny little thing that ruins it, which makes me fall through the cracks and renders me politically homeless, outcast by the progressive left and the MAGA right.

I'm a Jew.

And I'm trying so, so hard to hold compassion for the suffering of minorities who have not extended us that same compassion. I'm trying to maintain my progressivist urge to go out and help minorities in solidarity, but it's so hard when they make it clear that they hate us and want our state dead and gone. I supported BLM, but Al Sharpton, Leonard Jeffries, Alice Walker, James Baldwin, Louis Farrakhan, Malcom X, Jesse Jackson and many others either were or are wildly antisemitic, especially Sharpton and Walker, and so are the BLM movement's leaders, who openly sneered at Jews for being shocked by them by announcing, "I guess their activism was just transactional. How (((Zionist))) of them!"

And the queer community forced me out of their ranks for merely questioning whether the war in Gaza is a genocide, for pushing back against them saying that Hamas is fighting oppression. And spread antisemitic lies about me, claims of harassment and supporting genocide to my friends because I dared to question them. And they've chosen to side with those who would throw both of us off roofs for being queer. Cast out by the outcasts.

Like, what do I do? Our only allies are Hindus, Iranians, Kurds, Republicans, and Christian Zionists (respect to all of these groups for that... even you Republicans. This is one of our only points of agreement). That's literally it. No loud show of from indigenous nations supporting what is effectively the most successful anticolonial land back movement in human history. No push from "antiracist progressives" against rising antisemitism and genocidal terrorism from a reactionary fundamentalist group against a historically discriminated group.

And they aren't even just leaning back and being silent--many members of these groups are being actively antisemitic--especially the progressive left, which has morphed into the most antisemitic mainstream political movement since the Nazis. Instead, we're 'Zionazis' and genocidal colonizers who aren't even oppressed anyway, that's just evil Jewish Zionist lies designed to stoke sympathy for their unrelentingly evil nature, which we can't even help. The notion that Jews are intrinsically predisposed to evil acts and deception--never heard that one before.

So now, when I look at pictures of Pride Parades, a celebration of an identity of which I am a part and would have previously killed to attend--I wonder... would I be allowed to hold up a rainbow flag with a Magen David on it? If I asked any of their views on the state of Israel, what will they say? What about on Zionists who support its existence? Would all parts of my identity be respected, valued, and celebrated? Or would I be forced to leave the Star of David flag at home, pretend I don't notice their antisemitic views, and pass the litmus test of disavowing Israel before being accepted?

I feel suspicious and wary of the very community which I am 'supposed' to belong in. I feel uncomfortable. I hate, hate, hate that I feel this way. That I've become more closed, more cynical, more angry. Those of us who fall through the cracks, who hold multiple marginalized identities--queer and Jewish, black and Jewish, Indigenous and Jewish--we are ignored and silenced, our voices and experiences entirely spat upon as being a front for 'Zionist crimes' or whatever new buzzwords they create.

I've decided that first and foremost, I am Jewish. The me that was proud to be a part of the queer community is dead. I want to support the progressive causes of antiracism and social justice, but they hate us. They want us dead. They wouldn't view my participation as being a genuine gesture of solidarity, but an evil Jew Zionist seeking to con them and co-opt support in order to aid our evil apartheid genocidal settler-colonialist white supremacist illegitimate entity in a land that should really be given to Hamas anyway.

How am I supposed to hold space for other minorities when nobody is holding space for us right now?

#antisemitism #jewish #jumblr #leftist antisemitism #left wing antisemitism #jewblr #antizionism #progressivism

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Hey you were looking for a polyfic so here you go!

LanOscar or Lando x Max

(Idk if you write smut but the if you do you can encourparate it into this plot)

Plot: The reader becomes pregnant after a wild night (shall we say) and between the two boys they are convinced that it's their child. But when the baby is born it is one of the drivers from the ship above (I don't mind which one either driver of any ship is fine) and they are proud of it, and the other driver is slightly jealous that it isn't his. But he grows to love the child as the months pass and the reader says how the next child that is put in her is his.

I really don't know if this makes sense upon which I do apologise.

Hope your Well <3

Gonna do norstappen bc I got a landoscar one coming

It was meant to be a threesome, a one night experience, not a throuple. But they worked together, so it was pretty hard to stay away

Whether it was lingering gazes and touches, or moments spent too long in each others presence without much explanation.

But this only lasted a few weeks, a month at most, before came the dreaded pregnancy test.

It was bought in a moment of anxiety. Her period was only late by a day and she had no other symptoms of pregnancy, but she was so worried that she ran to the store and bought one that afternoon.

She didn't tell the boys. Why should she when she's definitely not pregnant? But she wasn't definitely not pregnant.

The two lines stared back at her. Fuck, she really was pregnant. Holy fuck she was going to throw up.

As soon as she was done throwing up, she grabbed her phone and sent a picture of the pregnancy test to the groupchat she had with Max and Lando.

They rushed straight over. Thank god they all resided in Monaco. It was just one of the perks of being drivers, she supposed. Well, not that she'd be driving at the minute.

Her thoughts started spiralling down the path of who would be driving the Ferrari alongside Charles Leclerc in her place. She would have loved to see Arthur Leclerc drive alongside his brother, bit Ollie Bearman was an incredibly talented candidate, too.

It was only when Max and Lando knocked on her door that she snapped out of it. They wore grins on their faces as she pulled the door open. "So," Lando began, his boyish smile playing on his lips. "Who's is it?"

She rolled her eyes and let them into her apartment. "Does it matter?" She asked and Max shook his head, but Lando nodded.

Of course he did. There was nothing simple about Lando Norris. "Yeah, because whoever isn't the dad gets the next go, right?"

Her eyes went wide at that suggestion. "Jeez Lando, we haven't even had the first yet," she said as she sat on the sofa beside Max.

He instantly pulled her into his body and kissed the top of her head. "We'll be with you every step of the way," he said and she turned to kiss him properly.

And they were with her every step of the way. They were with her when she told her team principl and they were there when her absence was announced on social media (along with the announcement of the promising young F2 driver that would be her stand in). Of course, the media weren't told why she was missing the races for the year, just that it was medical.

They were there when her bump started to show, there to buy her maternity clothes. They were there for the late night cravings and for the emotional breakdowns over things she later thought to be insignificant.

They were there to set up a room for the baby, decorated with race cars, of course. "Project Hamilton," she had jokes as they painted a track onto the wall.

When the baby was born, they got a paternity test. Just to find out if the baby would be predisposed to any conditions of any kid. The only condition he was predisposed to was being part Dutch.

As soon as the results came that he was Max's son, Lando was pouty as all hell. He didn't want it to affect the way he loved this child, tried so hard not to let it, but he couldn't help it.

Max constantly reminded Lando that he was just his son, he was Lando's son, too. The four of them were one big family, didn't matter who was really the father.

It took some time, and some forced bonding from her and Max, but Lando came to love their son as if they were blood.

But he was still convinced it was his job to knock her up next. He was a man obsessed. As soon as he could he had her on the bed with her ankles in the air.

Max hadn't touched her pussy in weeks. He wasn't allowed to, not unless he wanted to get jumped by Lando.

But, sure enough, another positive pregnancy test sat on the bathroom sink. Lando Norris was a smug little shit, because this one was definitely his.

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descendant-of-truth · 1 year

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Honestly? So much of Sonic Prime happens the way it does because Sonic is unabashedly, wholeheartedly neurodivergent, and I wanna talk about that in detail for several reasons

I think most people assume he has ADHD, and while I agree, I think they tend to leave it at "he's hyperactive and impulsive" when there's actually a lot more going on there.

For example, he lacks a filter. He says exactly what he's thinking, all the time, regardless of who's listening. I wouldn't be surprised if he does it as a type of vocal stim, considering that he talks to himself as much as he does to other people. Maybe he dislikes the way silence feels on his ears, too?

Something I noticed was that when Thorn gets on his case for this, asking if he ever stops talking, the way he says "eh, not really" sounds... almost resigned?

He could have easily said it in a more jokey way, but his tone (and the wide camera shot) gives me the impression that this isn't a trait of his that he feels especially positive about.

It's not cool or funny to him, at least not in this instance; it's just something he does, which further proves to me that it's more of an unconscious stim than anything else.

On the topic of the jungle world though, it also shows us a couple instances of him not being able to read others' intentions very well. Prim lies to him about knowing what the Prism shard is, and Thorn uses him to get to said shard - and despite how hostile they are, he takes both of them at their word.

He only realizes Thorn's intentions after she hits him across the clearing - not for the first time that day, mind you - and Sonic berates himself a little for not seeing this coming.

But it's not like this is the only time he has difficulty understanding intent; just look at his interactions with Shadow.

This is not the behavior of someone who understands why Shadow's picking a fight with him. He doesn't understand the implications of "you literally shook the world" because he doesn't know about the Weirder aspects of the explosion. In his mind, he just messed up a mountain.

Though I think his attitude implies another thing about his dynamic with Shadow that might explain why he was so quick to dismiss what he was talking about, which is. I don't think Sonic usually understands why they fight??

Shadow is a person of few words and Sonic has a hard time picking up on subtleties, that's a recipe for miscommunication already. And if Sonic's already predisposed to thinking that Shadow fights him Just Because, then of course he didn't take this particular instance seriously.

Though going back to "he only registered the physical effect of the explosion," Sonic is actually pretty consistent with understanding things that are tangible a lot better than anything else. Case in point: that One Palm Tree

His first reaction to seeing it presented as a gift is that it must be a trick. because he doesn't see the tangible point of the tree, and isn't enough of a symbolism guy to see the sentimental point of it, either.

Don't get me wrong, he is being insensitive here, but I don't think it's on purpose in any way. Look at his body language and expressions:

Even as he's getting on their case for being too sentimental, he's not unhappy or uncomfortable with them. He's just completely failing to recognize that this was supposed to be a big deal for them, so he's treating it way more casually than is appropriate.

Which is like. a classic social flub for neurodivergent folks

(Quick side note - this specific "huh" that he makes as Tails is flying away before Sonic realizes he's upset is a whole mood. I don't know how to explain it but this is Exactly what it feels like when you can sorta tell something's not clicking but you don't know what yet)

(Look at him. brain static)

I could go on with the detailed explanations but some of that would just be me repeating past posts I've made, so I'll leave it at "he is clearly not handling change well either" and link back to an example.

So anyway, this is what I meant when I said that so much of the show is impacted by Sonic being neurodivergent. It affects how we hear his thoughts as viewers, it affects his ability to understand and connect with his friends, it's why he dismisses Shadow, it's why he impulsively smashes the Paradox Prism, the list goes on.

And he's not stupid because of any of these traits, either. None of what I've described has to do with intelligence, but I've seen "Sonic is too dumb" as a reason to criticize the show, and that's just not what's happening here.

If anything, I'm actually really impressed with how well the writers have managed to portray a more nuanced take on what a character with ADHD would look like. Because he's not just being hyperactive and chatty, you can tell it affects how he perceives things too.

Which is a much bigger part of the overall experience, and it's really cool to see in a cartoon like this - and in the lovable main character, to boot! Who cherishes his friends despite his struggles to understand them! Why is it so good!

In conclusion Sonic is the ADHD king we both needed and deserved, thanks for coming to my TED talk

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #analysis #meta #He might also have autism because there's a lot of overlap there #I mostly just went with ADHD because it seems to be the consensus #and it takes too long to specify that it could be either or both in the main post

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tobiotetsu · 9 months

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the beast’s beauty

fushiguro toji x f!reader

description: because of your father's mistake, the infamous toji zenin forced you into imprisonment in order to pay his debt. however, what you never expected was to fall in love with the monster he was.

genre: angst, historical au, 18+, mini series

warnings/tags: explicit smut(vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, ) violence, mentions of stockholm syndrome & misogyny, blackmail, character injury, blood, profanity, mdni, grammar mistakes

a/n: to welcome our fav dilf to the jjk screen, here's a little beauty and the best retelling for toji:) reblogs are truly appreciated <3 (taglist: open) (wc:1k)

general masterlist

part one ♕ part two ♕ part three ♕ part four ♕ part five

You never enjoyed the company your father kept. Drunks, assassins, mobsters, gamblers. You would always find yourself pulling him out of taverns in the early hours of 2 to 4 am. Usually, fear would course through women’s veins if they had to enter an establishment of this kind however, that wasn't your case. You were predisposed to bars, and whore houses since you were 10.

Now here, age 22 as you make your way through the liveliest bar in town. The air stank of beer and fresh cigarettes; a smell that you've grown more than used to. Your upbringing was merited to being the only daughter of a single father. Your mother died in childbirth and your father never chose to remarry. When you were younger you thought of it as romantic, but as time went on you saw it for what it really was.

He gained a free pass to hoard whores. Your house doors welcomed a new woman every week. The most motherly advice you gained was how to seduce a man and how to keep your tits perky.

The bar was more full than it usually was. Sweaty bodies stood, all facing the same direction. A poker game was at play. By the looks of the chips stacked in the center, it looked rather intense. Your feet began to move faster as a small anxious feeling nipped at your stomach. Shoving arms and legs, you squeeze into the front of the table.

Two men were sitting at opposite ends of the table. The left side of the table was far more crowded than the right. Women were draped over the man who was seated. A hand covered the majority of his face so all that was in view were his eyes. Dark green eyes shined brightly, even though the mess of dark hair was in front of it.

‘He looked focused’ you thought. He stared ahead, not giving any attention to the women around him. You could see why they were all interested in him. Physically, he was very attractive. His legs were spread out under the table, arms crossed and sat straight. His shirt fit on his body like a glove. His shoulders, chest, and even the muscles on his torso were visible through the cloth.

Before you could notice anything a familiar voice caught your attention. At the other end of the table, you see a familiar ratted navy coat. With a far lonelier crowd, your father was squinting at the four cards in his palm.

“All in” he shouted as he pushed all his chips closer to the dark-haired man.

“Dad!” you jumped to him, clasping your hand on his wrist. As you opened your mouth to protest, a deep voice intercepted.

“Sorry, cap.” was all the man said as he displayed his cards. The faces and noise around you felt dull. Muffled voices and blurry vision were all you had as you watched your father’s cards get trumped by a royal flush.

“How much money did you bet, Dad?” The urgency in your voice was a cover for the panic. He had no money. Whatever money he did earn at his sales job was put towards the tavern and prostitutes. Whatever was left was the sum you had earned at the library.

“Sweet pea, I-I messed up,” there was a shake in your father's voice. One that you had never heard before. “It wasn’t money. Gu- I need to get”

You couldn't understand the slurred speech your father spewed.

“Gu? What are you saying, Dad?” you held your father steady near the back entrance of the building.

“Guns” your body jumped at the sound of another voice joining your conversation. You spun around to be faced with familiar eyes. They look much darker at night. The only thing illuminating the scene was a candle hanging beside the door in between you two.

“He didn’t bet money. Your father owes me guns.”

Your eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

He must be confused with someone else.

In an effort to clear your father's name you turn to him for reassurance, but all you are met with is disappointment.

“Mmm sorry. I sold the guns and I didn’t have anything else to give” Your father's voice fell flat.

“Dad, What are you talking about? Why do you have guns? What are you in?” your hands grasp his arms and shake his drunk body hoping to shake the truth out of him.”

“Your father works for my business. And he fucked up and sold my guns for bitch money.” the man said. His head tilted to the right, allowing for his face to be seen. The first thing you saw was a scar that ran through the right corner of his mouth. He was taller than you assumed he was. As he inched towards you his size grew.

“What do you want?” your voice dripped in fear.

“Well, your father here, he bet me something to act as a placeholder, till I get my guns.” he fished in his pockets as he spoke those chilling words. He retrieved a small syringe from his pocket.

Your worried eyes turned to your father but before you could protest, rough hands brushed your lips, pressing your mouth shut. You felt your skin break as a cool needle was stuck in your neck. Tears welled up in your eyes as your fear was confirmed.

You felt your own body turning into mush, your muscles stopped protesting the man's actions and started to skin into him. Your back hit his chest and your head rolled onto his shoulder. With what little power you had you flailed your limbs, but all of your efforts were met with failure.

You couldn't hear anymore, couldn't distinguish voices. Couldn't yell and scream at your father for pimping you like a whore to a beast. You didn't know whose voice it was but you were hoping their word was true, as those were the last words that you heard before you blacked out.

“I'll take care of you, I promise.”

[ jjk gen taglist: @meepmoop12w @thepsychicartist ]

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transmutationisms · 9 months

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I have always been wary of the psychiatric industry, but its only very recently that i started to read anti-psychiatric works. Your blog is the first time i saw that the "chemical imbalances causing mental illness" is a myth, and honestly its something im having a hard time wrapping my head around.

Is it that mood regulation struggles, labelled as a mental illnesses, has more to do with outside factors instead of the person "just being that way"? Is it therefore unlikely for someone to have struggles with mood regulation if they cant identify any external causes that would cause them to be, for example, extremely agoraphobic or to have anger management issues? Im asking this for myself mainly, cause i always had intense agoraphobia no matter how i often go outside my home (in fact it was worse when i was a teen and i was outside the house in even more back then). I cant think of any reason for me to be like this than chemical imbalances in my brain.

the specific 'chemical imbalance' myth i was talking about in this post is the idea that depression is caused by low serotonin, and that therefore SSRIs—serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, ie drugs that cause a higher level of serotonin in the brain—ought to cure or at least ameliorate depression. this conjecture is belied by the fact that SSRIs don't, at a population level, reliably perform better than placebo.

although a neurobiological cause of 'mental illness' has long been the holy grail of psychiatry, the serotonin imbalance myth is far from the only hypothesis that psychiatrists and neuroscientists have proposed. so, a critique of the serotonin myth is not synonymous with, or generalisable to, a critique of every neurobiological mechanism purported to explain psychiatric diagnoses. you may be interested to know, though, that genomics and neuroscience have not identified a biological cause of any psychiatric diagnosis (p. 851).

all human experiences are biologically instantiated, including in the brain and wider nervous system. we are embodied beings. however, it is a leap to assume that such instantiation is automatically equivalent to a causal explanation or disease etiology. in other words, to deny that psychiatric diagnoses are known to be biologically caused does not mean we deny that thoughts and thought patterns express in the physical matter of neuroanatomy. this is a major philosophical sticking point to keep in mind whenever you're looking at something like, eg, a study that purports to show 'brain differences' in those assigned a certain psychiatric diagnosis. another thing to consider is whether these papers are plagued with methodological issues or financial conflicts of interest.

i can't possibly tell you why you exhibit agoraphobia. however, when i talk about social, economic, and environmental factors that may contribute to the patterns of behaviour labelled as 'mental illness', i'm talking about much more than the individual choice to leave your house. since phobias are 'anxiety disorders', i might start by probing into questions like: is the world you live in safe? do you perceive it as safe? do you or your community face existential threats that may confront you more obviously when you go outside? are you nervous around other people, and if so, might that be connected to fears (well-founded or not) about interpersonal violence and harm? do you think any of these anxieties may be connected to the hostility and inaccessible design of the social environment and economic conditions?

human behaviour and thought varies. some of those variations may be totally benign; others may be helpful or harmful to the person living with them. it would be weird if every single one of the 8 billion people on earth experienced precisely the same amount of anxiety about any situation, no? all of this is to say: yeah, it's entirely possible you have been, for one reason or another (genetic, neuroanatomical, social, &c) predisposed to experience high, even debilitating levels of anxiety when leaving your home. most human characteristics develop from a tangle of social, environmental, material causes—ie, from a combination of 'nature' and 'nurture'. what doesn't follow, though, is the claim that there is therefore a discrete, 'diseased' element of your brain or brain functioning that can simply be cured or eliminated through psychiatric intervention.

it is a critical point of anti-psychiatry to challenge psychiatric and neuroscientific claims to neurobiological determinism where psychiatric diagnoses are concerned. this is for many reasons, including: a) that these claims have not been demonstrated to actually be true [see above]; b) that they rob pathologised people of agency and self-determination [see: you're too sick to know you're sick, and the doctor will fix you now]; c) that they are often pushed by pharmaceutical companies with financial interests, or grant-funded researchers with... financial interests; d) that they are politically seductive in various eugenic, hereditarian discourses that seek to eliminate the biologically 'unfit' element from society.

#psychiatry

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kremlin · 2 months

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@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

#posts i will be deleting

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eveningepiphany · 8 months

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welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #hslot #love on tour #i just love finalshowrry #love u too #hopefully part four doesn’t take me also two weeks to write HAHA

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neonoddeye · 10 months

Note

may i humbly request literally any interaction between mihawk and cats? super ultra mega bonus points if it’s fluffy and silly

I’d love to! The world needs more Mihawk content!

Includes: Mihawk x Gn! Reader moments in which you live on his island with him

Mihawk + Cats

Mihawk was genetically predisposed to be a cat dad. His facial hair is literally in the shape of a cat’s face

I have a fairly well thought-out headcanon that Mihawk has become the adoptive dad of a horde of stray cats on Kuraigana

As all well-mannered, strong men do, Mihawk attracts animals. Like, he even canonically influenced an entire army of baboons to be like him.

One day, a tiny stray kitten shows up near him while he’s watering his plants, clearly very hungry.

He’s already cooking fish, and a strong force compels him to save just a little bit of that fish for this poor, hungry cat.

“Found a new friend?” you inquire, noticing the small creature at your Mihawk’s feet.

“It was annoying me while I was gardening, I’m just going to feed it,” Mihawk replies bluntly, dodging the kitten as it runs between the swordsman’s legs.

As much as your partner likes to hide his emotions behind a cool exterior, you easily sense his affinity for the cat as he watches it eat a hearty amount of dinner. When he pets it, he swears up and down he’s “just making sure nothing is in its fur”, but the creature has already taken a liking to Mihawk, nuzzling against him and staying nearby for the rest of the night.

Little did he know that more cats would visit him over time, and once you grew attached to the one, he just couldn’t ignore the others

One day, you caught him drinking wine with a cat on his lap, and he looked like you just found out his darkest secret

But he looked so at ease, so calm, and he knew he couldn’t get himself out of this one

Eventually names them all after swords, save three for perona, zoro, and you

“Has Yoru Jr. been fed yet?”

“Mihawk, Zoro got in a fight with Perona.”

“I hope you mean the cats”

Would 1000% end up growing catnip for them. It’s like, 15 cats at this point, he can’t even deny it anymore

Somehow never gets cat hair on Yoru. It’s an unsolved mystery to you

The last thing Zoro was expecting on Mihawk’s island was an army of stray cats, barreling towards him at full speed

The poor swordsman just happened to get incredibly lost take a walk near dinner time, and the cats got in his way.

It’s the shortest amount of time it’s taken Zoro to get back to the castle.

Zoro’s footwork in battle improves tremendously over the training period, and he’ll never admit it’s because he was avoiding stepping on cat tails.

But in all seriousness, it’s a nice change of pace to see your stoic partner grow fond over such tiny, fluffy creatures. With all the stress he holds on his back (literally), you’ve seen him loosen up a little while caring for the kittens, and not seeing them turn into savage beasts. All Mihawk wants at the end of the day is to retire with his 15 cat children and you, his beloved.

I hope this is good!! It’s my first request, and writing for Mihawk was a challenge bc I wanted to get him right!

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece drabble #one piece headcanons #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk x you #anime #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #dracule mihawk x reader #we need more mihawk content!#one piece x gn reader

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xxlovelynovaxx · 7 months

Text

Lost a friend today because he refused to listen about how harmful the concept of narcissistic abuse is, despite knowing I have NPD and that I'm a victim of the exact same kind of abuse he was (literally, he described my experience down to the letter).

He was one of my and my partner's closest friends, so today has been really rough.

Please listen to people with NPD about how this harms us. We're neurodivergent people with a largely traumagenic disorder, usually from abuse and/or neglect. We're not monsters, predisposed towards an abusive nature, or capable of a unique kind of abuse. We're just people who struggle with self-esteem because we base our ego primarily on our perception of what others think of us.

We're not saying this can never influence toxic behaviors, we're just pointing out that that's not more true of our disorder any more than any other health condition, from autism and ADHD to OCD to PTSD to addiction to eating disorders to bipolar to depression to anxiety.

We're also not trying to take language from other abuse victims. We're asking you to not be ableist (a form a structured societal abuse) towards other abuse victims. Call it what it is: emotional abuse. Emotional abuse is such a wider category than people realize, and it's important to talk about that. I hear what people are saying when they say they're wanting to describe a specific subtype of emotional abuse, so let's make words for that!

Manipulative abuse, coercive abuse, gaslighting abuse, guilt-tripping abuse, even safety abuse - that last for when people use their own mental health state and threaten self harm or suicide to get their way.

These can all be factors in emotional abuse - what's commonly described as narc abuse is what's standard for emotional abuse, involving a wide variety of tactics to exert control in the absence of physical or sexual abuse - which also can and usually are partly emotional in nature as well.

I'd love to open a conversation about terms that better describe what we went through! I'm just asking that we don't use the ones that further demonize a badly misunderstood disorder, and that people be willing to recognize that their understanding of it is based on a LOT of misinformation.

Just, please, listen to us. Be willing to be open-minded. We aren't your abusers, and we know that you deserved better and deserve a chance to heal to the fullest extent possible. We do too. Please, help make a safe space for us all to do so together.

#NPD #cw narc abuse mention

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jpitha · 6 months

Text

Superweapon Surprise

Gemilin bounds into the cafe, practically skipping. Their tail swishes and their ears and eyes are roving the crowd, looking for someone. Finally, the K’laxi sees who they’re looking for.

“Lina! Lina! I need your help!” Without waiting to be invited to sit, she joins Lina at her table.

“What is it you need, Gem?” Lina is pretty sure that she’s Gem’s only human friend, so she tends to find her when she has a question about humanity. She’s also pretty sure Gem has a crush on her, but she tactfully doesn’t mention that part.

“Can you design a weapon for me please?”

Lina almost chokes on her coffee. The cafe is one of the few places the popular stimulant is allowed, and all other sapient species have to sign a waver to enter. Lina is one of the humans who visits every day for coffee. “Gem, I work on thrusters all day long. I don’t design weapons!”

Gemilin nods excitedly, her ears flicking. “Yes, yes, I know, but you’re also a human. You are practically predisposed to designing weapons that would make the rest of the Galaxy splorch their vivnax!”

Lina turns her head to the side. “What was that Gem, I don’t recognize those words?”

“I know! Isn’t it neat! Hari over in Environmental Processing said it would sound ‘cute’ if I colored my speaking with words from my birth language. Is it cute?” Gem’s fur ripples a blush and she is practically vibrating with excitement.

“Gem… did you drink any coffee? You are sure… animated today.”

“No, silly! That level of stim would kill me. So, a weapon?”

Lina puts down her coffee cup and busies herself putting her silverware and napkin on her now empty tray. “Why though? Why me? Why a weapon?”

“I already said! Humans are great at weapons. As for you, well-“ Just for a little bit, Gemilin looks down at the floor. “-You’re the only human I know that would actually try and come up with an answer instead of just brushing me off.”

“Hmm. Okay then. Walk with me.” Lina stands up and makes her way to the bussing table. She drops off her tray and coffee cup and starts down the hall. Gem follows, trotting just a bit to keep up with Lina’s long strides.

“Okay, so the thing that I’ve been thinking about is the fact that we’ve had the wormhole generators for hundreds of years, and haven’t really tried to weaponize them yet, right?”

Gem stops, but Lina doesn’t notice. She bounds to catch back up. “The… wormhole generators? How would you weaponize them.”

“Well, they take the ship and open a wormhole and the ship moves through the wormhole to any other part of the galaxy pick right? So long as we have the energy and the navigation solution, it works. What if we didn’t use a ship.”

“What would you use instead Lina?”

“Well, like a bomb for example. Or!” Lina is becoming more animated. She’s looking up as she thinks and walks. “Okay, try this. We take a stardrive from an old Starjumper, stick it on a few thousand tonnes of tungsten, then accelerate it up to around 80% C.”

“Yes, a relativistic impactor. You used them against New Wellington.”

Lina’s head snaps down to Gem. “That was Parvati, not me, I’m from High Mars Lilac. Anyway, how did you know about that?”

Lina’s reaction causes Gem to flinch. “Sorry! I forgot that it was Parvati. I learned it when I was looking up human weapons.”

“Anyway. Yes, like a relativistic impactor, except this one also has a wormhole generator. Now, once it’s up to speed you link a few thousand feet over the surface of a planet.”

“Not to strike the planet?” Gem’s bouncy nature is gone, and she is giving Lina her full attention.

“No, that’s too wasteful. Send it over the city you want to destroy. The wormhole link will open, and the impactor will scream into the atmosphere. At 80% C it would generate all kinds of wild particles and interactions with the atmosphere. With those speeds any atmosphere would be like hitting a wall. The impactor would still be destroyed of course, but the devastation would be so much greater! With good enough maps, you could set it to strike multiple cities just by virtue of the size of the explosion. It would be like a lance of gamma radiation and exotic particles stabbing multiple cities instantly.”

Gem stops walking. Lina notices this time and stops along side her. They’re both at one of the large windows that are along the promenade. Gem’s ears are flat against her head and her tail is limp. “You… you did it. Lina, that weapon would kill millions.”

Lina nods. “Hundreds of millions depending on where and when you struck. And, I haven’t heard of it being done before. So there, I made you a weapon.”

The small K’laxi looks around for a bench and flops into it. Lina sits down next to her and looks down at her friend. “What’s the matter? You asked for a weapon.”

Gem looks up at Lina’s kind face. “I didn’t think you could do it though. And so easily… and with such destruction. If someone asked me to come up with a weapon I’d probably say something like ‘a human slug thrower but bigger.’ You thought of a way to destroy civilizations… off the cuff. Do all humans think like you?”

Lina looked out the window. Space was large enough that one really could not see the traffic around the station, but she knew it was there, circling like shoals of fish. “I don’t know, Gemilin. I haven’t met every human. Lots do though. We’re pretty good at thinking of unusual ways to use things, especially when it comes to fighting and weapons.” She turns back to Gem. “Now, will you tell me why you wanted me to come up with a weapon?”

Gem’s shoulders fall. “I was just looking for an excuse to talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything else, and Pen in traffic control said that humans are good at weapons. They thought that it might be a line of conversation.”

“Oh, Gem.” Lina smiled sadly. She reached down and ruffled the fur between Gem’s ears. Her head moved slightly to get a better angle from the touch. “You didn’t need to make up an excuse to talk to me. I’m always happy to talk to my friends.” Lina’s pad chimes angrily at her. She glances at it. “I have to go back to work, but I’m free tonight. Do you want to get dinner? We can talk about whatever you want, just… no superweapons, okay?”

Gem’s fur rippled a blush. “I’d… I’d like that Lina. I’ll see you tonight.”

#writing #humans are deathworlders #sci fi writing #humans and aliens #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras #jpitha

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contemplatingoutlander · 7 months

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youtube

THOM HARTMANN: Science Explains Why Republicans Can’t Accept Trump’s Guilt (Sept. 12, 2023)

Scientists discovered a fascinating reason why Republicans can’t accept criticism of Donald Trump. Thom explains.

In the above video, Thom Hartmann refers to a Raw Story column by cognitive neuroscientist Bobby Azarian, PhD (shown below):

Here are some excerpts from Azarian's column:

In 2009, a study published in PLOS ONE challenged our understanding of belief systems. Researchers placed participants into the confines of an fMRI scanner and presented them with a mixture of factual and abstract statements. The results were illuminating. Disbelief, it turns out, is cognitively demanding. It requires more mental effort than simply accepting a statement as true. From an evolutionary perspective, this preference for easy belief makes sense; a perpetually skeptical individual questioning every piece of information would struggle to adapt in a fast-paced world. What does all this have to do with Trump supporters? Well, it’s far less cognitively demanding for them to believe anything their leader tells them. Any challenge to what Trump tells them is true takes mental work. This means there is a psychological incentive for Trump loyalists to maintain their loyalty. (I wrote about this phenomenon in a slightly different context in the Daily Beast article "Religious Fundamentalism: A Side Effect of Lazy Brains?") Molding of belief: neuroplasticity at play Now, let's consider the unique predicament faced by individuals who staunchly support Trump and want him to again become president. From the moment Trump began his political career and his social engineering career, his supporters have been exposed to narratives — Trump doesn't lie, Democrats are communists, the media is an enemy of the people — that emphasize loyalty and trust in their political idol. These narratives often steer away from critical examination and instead encourage blind faith. When coupled with the brain's inherent tendency to accept rather than question, it creates an ideal environment for unwavering allegiance. No matter that Trump, time and again, has been revealed to be a serial liar, habitually misrepresenting matters of great consequence, from elections to economics to public health. For example, in the Psychology Today article "Why Evangelicals are Wired to Believe Trump’s Falsehoods," I explain that the children of Christian fundamentalists typically begin to suppress critical thinking at an early age. This is required if one is to accept Biblical stories as literal truth, rather than metaphors for how to live life practically and with purpose. Attributing natural occurrences to mystical causes discourages youth from seeking evidence to back their beliefs. Consequently, the brain structures that support critical thinking and logical reasoning don't fully mature. This paves the way for heightened vulnerability to deceit and manipulative narratives, especially from cunning political figures. Such increased suggestibility arises from a mix of the brain's propensity to accept unverified claims and intense indoctrination. Given the brain's neuroplastic nature, which allows it to shape according to experiences, some religious followers are more predisposed to accept improbable assertions. In other words, our brains are remarkably adaptable and continuously evolving landscapes. For ardent Trump supporters, residing in an environment that prioritizes faith over empirical evidence can reshape the neural circuits within their brains. [color emphasis added]

[edited]

#why republicans can't accept trump's guilt #donald trump #neuroscience #the brain and disbelief #christian fundamentalists #maga republicans #thom hartmann #bobby azarian #youtube video #raw story #Youtube

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apoemaday · 1 month

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Field of Skulls

by Mary Karr

Stare hard enough at the fabric of night, and if you're predisposed to dark — let’s say the window you’ve picked is a black postage stamp you spend hours at, sleepless, drinking gin after the I Love Lucy reruns have gone off — stare

like your eyes have force, and behind any night’s taut scrim will come the forms you expect pressing from the other side. For you: a field of skulls, angled jaws and eye-sockets, a zillion scooped-out crania. They’re plain once you think to look.

You know such fields exist, for criminals roam your very block, and even history lists monsters like Adolf and Uncle Joe who stalk the earth’s orb, plus minor baby-eaters unidentified, probably in your very midst. Perhaps that disgruntled mail clerk from your job

has already scratched your name on a bullet — that’s him rustling in the azaleas. You caress the thought, for it proves there’s no better spot for you than here, your square-yard of chintz sofa, hearing the bad news piped steady from your head. The night is black. You stare and furious stare,

confident there are no gods out there. In this way, you’re blind to your own eye’s intricate machine and to the light it sees by, to the luck of birth and all your remembered loves. If the skulls are there — let’s say they do press toward you against night’s scrim — could they not stare with slack jawed envy at the fine flesh that covers your scalp, the numbered hairs, at the force your hands hold?

#poetry #mary karr #field of skulls #a personal favorite

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txttletale · 15 days

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What are your thoughts (lorewise) on Warhammer fantasy so far and what's your favorite faction

i love skaven. ive been a skaven fan for like 20000 years ever since i briefly played actual tabletop. they're just funny little guys :)

when warhammer is good it's because it's embracing its original 80s gonzo spirit of 'just throw any old pop cultuire shit in there and figure it out later' -- i love how the skaven are, like, cartoon mad scientists with nuclear power and genetic engineering and also stupid rats who love scheming and betrayal anbd they waltz around with giant fucking flesh monsters and gatling guns and Combat Hamster Wheels. ther'es other stuff in this vein that's good too: orcs being english football hooligans is never going to stop delighting me, the tomb kings are a really cool concept, the vampire pirates (as far as i'm aware a CA invention?) are so fucking goofy and they rule so so hard.

overall though there's al ot of really really uncomfortable undertones to the world of warhammer fantasy. first of all there is the straight up racist shit, i love the lizardmen (i am currently deep into a mazdamundi campaign) and some of their lore is really interesting and in some ways avoids some of the common pitfalls of 'fantasy indigenous peoples'--it's made very clear they are an advanced society, technologically and socially complex, with a rich culture and history. but the lazy aping and blending of half-remembered maya/aztec aesthetics and the '''''funny''''' joke names they have and the fact that they are ancient and mystical and Not Of This Age just adds up to them being a really racist caricature of mesoamerican societies.

also WHF leans really really really hard into the biological determinism stuff. i love the skaven but the fact that they're a rapidly breeding menace that secretly infiltrates your cities and kidnaps people and gorge themselves on resources and have an Evil Religion and are As A Race predisposed to treachery and viciousness and are depicted as literal vermin brings to mind yknow the place all these tropes hold in the racist and antisemitic cultural imaginary and it definitely makes me kind of uncomfortable. i think the same can be said of the (also straight-up racist) depiction of beastmen as Tribes and Hordes that are very literally More Animal Than Human. like, there's so much of That Shit, of X Race are Biologically Fundamentally Like This, and the Like This often happens to coincide with a constellation of tropes used to demonize and justify the extermination of real people, and i really hate That Shit.

i also find the (also quite typical of fantasy) Order (Good) and Chaos (Evil) moral distinction to be pretty ideologically repugnant

so overall, yknow. mixed feelings innit. that said i'm having an absolute blast with TWWH2 this shit rules im driving my big dinosaur around and eating mother fuckers

#ask #also i have never once in my life thought about age of sigm ar

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georgevilliers · 2 months

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Mary & George thots

I watched all 7 episodes this morning starting at 4:30am on about 4 hours of sleep so here are all of my very sleep deprived but professional opinions. Also, I read the book The King's Assassin by Benjamin Woolley so i have Extra Opinions

(spoilers and lengthy thots beneath the cut)

These are not going to be in any specific order because I can not be bothered (see: me being up since 4am on 4 hours of sleep) and as a blanket statement I loved the show!!!!! Most of the things I will say are going to be neutral statements relating to differences I saw between what I read in the book and what was in the show. These are not good or bad things, just observations! I think it's fun and interesting to look at the things they changed to make it more interesting and palatable for a tv viewing audience, and I don't think it changes the quality of the product at all! With that out of the way, let's get on to the content:

we'll start with the things I loved

NICHOLAS GALITZINE. Like. HELLO??? I am very familiar with his work (watched everything he's been in and recorded a podcast about it) and I know he's been criminally undervalued in almost every project he's ever done but this really, really tested his limits and I mean that in a very good way. You can tell this whole project was a test of his abilities as an actor both physically and mentally and he really rose to the challenge in such an impressive way. I'm not really sure if this is ever going to be Emmy/awards fodder (if they meant it to be they released it at a very poor time but thats a different discussion for another time) but I do think this is going to lead to some very interesting places for him. People (important decision making ones) are going to see this and realise what his abilities are and this is a very good thing.

The costumes are so incredible. The details, the colours, the cuts, the CAMP. I'm not a costuming expert so I have no way of knowing how accurate any of the costuming was but damn did it look good.

On that note the CAMP. Oh my god. This really had that je ne sais quoi that makes something camp in the way only queer people can make something camp, so really hats off to everyone involved in the production value.

I should mention all of the actors here, including Julianne Moore and Tony Curran. I am biased, being that I now seem to only exist to consume Nicky G media, but everyone did such a great job.

The script is so complex and rich, I really don't envy the actors having to memorize some of the tongue twisters that were part of the dialogue.

I think they did a really good job of crafting George as a character. As someone who is predisposed to love Nick's face (lol) I really did feel a bit of hatred towards him sometimes. I found him embarrassing, hot headed, full of himself, and pitiable, sometimes all within a few scenes!

Let's talk about some of the big changes I noticed

they really REALLY made up about 95% of Mary's storyline, I would say. This is just going off the King's Assassin, mind you, but from what I learned about Mary from that book is that essentially her only role in the course George's life took was the initial bit: sending him to France to become a learned gentleman, and sending him to London to try to catch the king's attention. If anyone has any recommendations for sources about Mary's life I could read about I would be very interested in it in order to piece together more fact and fiction! In general, I would just assume the vast majority of Mary's storyline did not happen, but it was fun though! One thing that is mentioned in the book is that her and the king did become good friends.

I really missed the use of nicknames from James. I guess it was hard to show most of them on screen as a lot of them appeared in letters they wrote to each other when they were apart, but James often referred to him as "Steenie" referring to St Stephen who apparently "had the face of an angel", amongst numerous other nicknames such as wife, dog, and child etc.

I also really wish they had included this famous speech of King James' to his privy council, because it is burned into my brain I can literally recite it word for word now: "You may be sure that I love the Earl of Buckingham more than anyone else, and more than you who are here assembled. I wish to speak in my own behalf and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus Christ did the same, and therefore I cannot be blamed. Christ had John, and I have George."

I think they sort of removed some of George's abilities in order to make him rely on Mary more to involve her character in the storylines. In reality he made all of his own political decisions, knew how to play the king without help if he needed, and was a competent (if not terrible and easily swayed by bribery and trying to level up his own interests) member of the government

One of my favourite things to learn from the book is that when George took a wife (which, I believe in reality he was all too happy to marry in order to secure his possessions with an heir) she was welcomed by the king with open arms. King James became besties with Katie and he considered her as sort of part of their "family". In general I think they played up the "jealousies" from King James.

While it is alleged that George did kill James, it was not by asphyxiation. According to the book, he was suffering what is now known as malaria and had a violent fit, thought to be brought on by a "medication" George gave him which was provided by a doctor but actually administered by George, which is what ended up finally killing him

In general I wish the end hadn't felt so...rushed? Maybe it only felt that way because I know how it actually plays out and maybe if I rewatch while not trying to think about real life events so much, it might feel less so. But the whole issue with Spain took up such a small amount of time in the show when in real life it was like...a problem spanning multiple years. And I know they obviously can not show all of that within a 7 episode television show, it does seem like maybe they should have left it out altogether if they weren't really going to see it to its full justice?

My other small complaint is that it felt to me in some parts that the love between King James and George wasn't there. Certainly it feels to me like perhaps George did not feel the same level of love towards King James as the king felt for him, but the king certainly felt so much love for George. There were multiple instances outlined in the book in which they were "on the outs" because George started ignoring him in favour of Charles, or for other reasons, and it seemed to really tear at the king and he seemed to often be the one reaching out to George trying to keep his love close, rather than George trying to rein the king back in under his power. At that point, George had all of the power he needed and the king was so passive and loved him so much, he stayed the king's favourite until death, and George had very little to worry about in that regard.

There! That's all I can think of for now, and I think this has gone on quite long enough. I feel I need to rewatch the show and try harder to not think about real life situations and just enjoy the story. The fiction in the series is greater than the fact but I still think it's fun! And I recognise that there is a need to dramatize things greatly because the way things really played out in reality would not make good television at all. I hope no real history scholars find this post, and if you do please be gentle with me! I am not really an expert, just a history fan (even though I do find myself wanting to quit my job and become a George Villiers scholar).

If you read all of this you really deserve a medal, and you have all my thanks!

#text post #my posts #mary and george #mary & george #nicholas galitzine

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