Having trichotillomania is simultaneously the best and worst sensory experience hope that makes literally any sense
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u cant write a realistic lesbian romance that people actually want to read because realistically it’s just being besties for at least a year and then realising at some point that youre married now. where do u fit the dramatic airport chase/kissing in the rain esque plotlines into this </333
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As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.
I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”
I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .
And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.
Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.
Codependency
What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html
What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.
Compulsory Heterosexuality
What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making.
What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.
Emotional Labor
What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc.
https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/
What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).
Battered Wife Syndrome
What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.
What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.
I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.
What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”
Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”
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Asexual Non-Fiction
Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen
An engaging exploration of what it means to be asexual in a world that's obsessed with sexual attraction, and what we can all learn about desire and identity by using an ace lens to see the world. Through interviews, cultural criticism, and memoir, ACE invites all readers to consider big-picture issues through the lens of asexuality, because every place that sexuality touches our world, asexuality does too.
The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker
In The Invisible Orientation, Julie Sondra Decker outlines what asexuality is, counters misconceptions, provides resources, and puts asexual people's experiences in context as they move through a very sexualized world. It includes information for asexual people to help understand their orientation and what it means for their relationships, as well as tips and facts for those who want to understand their asexual friends and loved ones.
How to Be Ace: A Memoir of Growing Up Asexual by Rebecca Burgess
In this brave, hilarious and empowering graphic memoir, we follow Rebecca as they navigate a culture obsessed with sex—from being bullied at school and trying to fit in with friends, to forcing themself into relationships and experiencing anxiety and OCD—before coming to understand and embrace their asexual identity.
A Quick & Easy Guide to Asexuality by Molly Mulldoon and Will Hernandez
Writer Molly Muldoon and cartoonist Will Hernandez, both in the ace community, are here to shed light on society’s misconceptions of asexuality and what being ace is really like. This book is for anyone who wants to learn about asexuality, and for Ace people themselves, to validate their experiences. Asexuality is a real identity and it’s time the world recognizes it. Here’s to being invisible no more!
Asexualities: Feminist and Queer Perspectives edited by Karli June Cerankowski and Megan Milks
As the first book-length collection of critical essays ever produced on the topic of asexuality, this book serves as a foundational text in a growing field of study. It also aims to reshape the directions of feminist and queer studies, and to radically alter popular conceptions of sex and desire. Including units addressing theories of asexual orientation; the politics of asexuality; asexuality in media culture; masculinity and asexuality; health, disability, and medicalization; and asexual literary theory, Asexualities will be of interest to scholars and students in sexuality, gender, sociology, cultural studies, disability studies, and media culture.
Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown
In this exploration of what it means to be Black and asexual in America today, Sherronda J. Brown offers new perspectives on asexuality. She takes an incisive look at how anti-Blackness, white supremacy, patriarchy, heteronormativity, and capitalism enact harm against asexual people, contextualizing acephobia within a racial framework in the first book of its kind. A necessary and unapologetic reclamation, Refusing Compulsory Sexuality is smart, timely, and an essential read for asexuals, aromantics, queer readers, and anyone looking to better understand sexual politics in America.
I Am Ace: Advice on Living Your Best Asexual Life by Cody Daigle-Orians
Within these pages lie all the advice you need as a questioning ace teen. Tackling everything from what asexuality is, the asexual spectrum and tips on coming out, to intimacy, relationships, acephobia and finding joy, this guide will help you better understand your asexual identity alongside deeply relatable anecdotes drawn from Cody's personal experience. Whether you are ace, demi, gray-ace or not sure yet, this book will give you the courage and confidence to embrace your authentic self and live your best ace life.
Ace Voices: What it Means to Be Asexual, Aromantic, Demi or Grey-Ace by Eris Young
Drawing upon interviews with a wide range of people across the asexual spectrum, Eris Young is here to take you on an empowering, enriching journey through the rich multitudes of asexual life. With chapters spanning everything from dating, relationships and sex, to mental and emotional health, family, community and joy, the inspirational stories and personal experiences within these pages speak to aces living and loving in unique ways. Find support amongst the diverse narratives of aces sex-repulsed and sex-favourable, alongside voices exploring what it means to be black and ace, to be queer and ace, or ace and multi-partnered - and use it as a springboard for your own ace growth.
Asexual Erotics: Intimate Readings of Compulsory Sexuality by Ela Przybylo
Through a wide-ranging analysis of pivotal queer, feminist, and anti-racist movements; television and film; art and photography; and fiction, nonfiction, and theoretical texts, each chapter explores asexual erotics and demonstrates how asexuality has been vital to the formulation of intimate ways of knowing and being. Asexual Erotics assembles a compendium of asexual possibilities that speaks against the centralization of sex and sexuality, asking that we consider the ways in which compulsory sexuality is detrimental not only to asexual and nonsexual people but to all.
Ace Notes by Michele Kirichanskaya
As an ace or questioning person in an oh-so-allo world, you're probably in desperate need of a cheat sheet. Covering everything from coming out, explaining asexuality and understanding different types of attraction, to marriage, relationships, sex, consent, gatekeeping, religion, ace culture and more, this is the ultimate arsenal for whatever the allo world throws at you.
Ace and Aro Journeys: A Guide to Embracing Your Asexual or Aromantic Identity by The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project
Join the The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project (TAAAP) for a deep dive into the process of discovering and embracing your ace and aro identities. Empower yourself to explore the nuances of your identity, find and develop support networks, explore different kinds of partnership, come out to your communities and find real joy within. Combining a rigorous exploration of identity and sexuality models with hundreds of candid and poignant testimonials - this companion vouches for your personal truth, wherever you lie on the aspec spectrum.
Sounds Fake But Okay: An Asexual and Aromantic Perspective on Love, Relationships, Sex, and Pretty Much Anything Else by Sarah Costello and Kayla Kaszyca
Drawing on Sarah and Kayla's personal stories, and those of aspec friends all over the world, prepare to explore your microlabels, investigate different models of partnership, delve into the intersection of gender norms and compulsory sexuality and reconsider the meaning of sex - when allosexual attraction is out of the equation.
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✎ yandere! loser headcanons . . .
✎ warnings . . .
― stalking, manipulation, delusional yandere, mentions of p0rn, slight nsfw, stockholm syndrome (?) etc.
(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)
✎ yandere! loser who's basically a shut in, rarely coming out of his apartment except for compulsory lessons at university. he's a huge loser, shit talking others during games, messy apartment, dark eye bag circles, always ordering delivery for his food... he's practically the embodiment of the word loser! if it weren't for his rich parents he would not survived a day past his 18th birthday.
✎ yandere! loser who sees you as his salvation, the only hope in his dark life. through your streams he found purpose in his life - to be with you. and when he found out you went to the same university as him? he just knew that you were meant to be with him! why else would you speak his username so lovingly every time he donates to you?
✎ yandere! loser who's obviously a big virgin. I mean, what would you expect from a guy who hasn't held a girl's hand since he was 5? plus he doesn't even come out of his apartment! the most experience he has is from the pornography he used to watch. don't worry! he doesn't watch it anymore! because now all he has to do is imagine you sucking him off and he cums instantly. he's a true loser. but he's your loser, yours! :D
✎ yandere! loser who stalks you both online and physically. at this point he knows more about you than all of your friends do, maybe even you yourself! he's also the type of guy to like something you posted 69 weeks ago just because he liked how you looked in it. but does one post from long ago matter when he literally spam likes everything you post?
✎ yandere! loser who tries to rizz you up with tips and tricks he read online from sites like Reddit. he read all those success stories in the Reddit comment section so surely it must work out for him too, right?! wrong. because when he tried to pin you against a wall and call you 'baby', you only snorted in laughter, calling him funny and walking off with your friends. why didn't it work?! it was from user @/masterrizzler3000 on Reddit so it should've worked! he's sad now :(
✎ yandere! loser who isn't actually that bad looking. if he put in some more effort into his appearance he would've been a solid 10/10 in your opinion. but unfortunately he doesn't and that brings him to a 6.5/10. don't worry, there's something about his loser self that makes him cuter :) and that's when you decided to give him a chance and go out with him. best worst mistake of your life.
✎ yandere! loser who's actually a pretty good gaslighter and manipulator, so good that you actually agreed to date him. though he isn't aware that he's actually manipulating you so to him, you're falling for him because you genuinely love him. looks like religiously watching monster and death note worked for him. and that kids, is the story of how I (21m) landed myself a solid 100/10 with my loser self!!! -him, probably.
✎ yandere! loser who believes wholeheartedly that you and him are meant to be. sure, you may be a little more lifeless than you used to be, he's not sure why, but you love him! you tell him that every morning after you wake up in his bed! the soft 'i love you's' and 'im yours' from your sweet mouth are practically proof that you love him too, right?! fret not, for he loves you too ♡
✎ "please! I'll die without you-! you... you won't let that happen, would you? haha... of course you won't. you love me after all ♡"
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Tw: stepcest, obsessive behavior, stalking, breaking and entering, masturbation, subish!/masochist!Gojo
Stepbro!Gojo who wanted nothing to do with you, but became obsessed with you in just a matter of weeks.
Stepbro!Gojo who saw you at the compulsory weekly family dinners and made a point of ignoring you, only to arrive home later into the evening and stalk you on social media for hours.
It was stupid really, how he, a successful businessman that was well into his 20s, pretended that he's above fraternizing with a mere college student, but then paid a private investigator to follow you around when the feeds on your social media didn't provide enough information anymore.
He told himself that it was for your safety, but he was well aware that he was doing it mostly because he wanted to see if you got yourself a lover.
Stepbro!Gojo who bribed your dorm's admin to give him a copy of your room's key just so he could slip into your private quarters and rummage through your stuff.
Stepbro!Gojo who found the hamper filled with your dirty clothes and quickly dug his lanky arm right in, pulling piles of clothes out and dropping them on the floor at his feet.
He tried lying to himself again, thinking that he did this just so he could get a better grasp of what you usually wore to class (as if he didn't have a binder-worth of pictures his PI took of you these last few weeks). But the moment he saw your panties, he quickly dropped the act and lunged after them, pulling them out of the pile and holding them in front of his face so he could better analyze them.
Nude in color and plain cotton. He frowned and he moved the clothes around with his foot, trying to see if there was anything else. Maybe something a bit cuter? Something with lace and silk, perhaps? He found nothing of that sort. No embellishments, no little gems sewed into the material, no cute colors.
Stepbro!Gojo promised to buy you cuter lingerie once you would be living with him, but for now, the ones he found would do.
He bunched the panties in his hand and shrugged his coat off his muscular shoulders, allowing it to fall on top of your dirty clothes.
Unbuckling his belt, he fell on your bed and stretched his legs. He brought the panties to his face and inhaled deeply, his white lashes fluttering at the intense musky smell.
His cock started filling into his boxers and Gojo quickly shimmied out of his slacks and underwear. With one hand he grabbed his cock, and with a few expert tugs, it was standing fully erect, beads of precum already emerging out of the bulbous tip.
With another whiff, Gojo started working his cock, using his pre as lube.
It was embarrassing what he was doing—jerking off in a college dorm using his stepsister's used panties as wank material—but he couldn't help it.
He wanted to see you—no, he needed to see you. With a shaky hand he dropped the panties on his chest and grabbed his phone, going straight to the gallery he dedicated to you. He scrolled through the pictures while his hand moved faster on his cock—he wouldn't last long, he knew it.
He found a picture he especially liked and propped his phone on one of your pillows, so he could grab the panties again. Feeling around for the stained gusset, Gojo gave it a lick, his eyes crossing at your strong taste.
"Fuck," he whimpered, pulling at his cock furiously. His blue eyes found your picture and he imagined you were actually there, watching him closely, telling him he's a disgusting perverted pig for lusting over his stepsister.
Gojo threw his head back and came at the thought of your insults, his dick trembling in his pale hand as shot after shot of cum hit the white shirt he should have taken off.
His body relaxed and slumped into the bed as he caught his breath.
Stepbro!Gojo promised himself that this would be the first and last time he does this, but who is he kidding? He started coming back to the dorm every Tuesday afternoon, knowing you'd be in class.
And when that's no longer enough, Stepbro!Gojo convinced your mom that it would be so much better, so much safer, if you'd move in with him.
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Humans seem to have a "switch"
Team building exercises and competitive events are commonplace around the Galaxy. Everyone needs a distraction from the daily grind every now and then, and large organizations and long-term deployments make it essential for such "ice-breaker" activities, both to help integrate newcomers as well as reduce the chance of veterans becoming numb to life.
Yarvut Lyetzsnezhniiy had recently been assigned as a Cultural Analyst to the Human embassy aboard the Coalition Governing Station. While highly professional on the job and quite amicable, but wasn't all that into small talk, and once the workday was over, he was gone. No overtime, no hanging out, nothing.
When time came for the next publicly broadcast Cross-Embassy Game Series, where as many members from each species represented would be paired up with each other over the course of several days and partake in a game both agreed to in advance. Most of these were of the mental variety, and were honestly kinda boring to observe, but some pairings opted for more... active activities.
On the second day the Humans and another bipedal species called the Jorval had agreed to a competition not dissimilar to laser tag. This had actually been proposed by the previous Cultural Analyst and recently been added to the roster with some modifications. Two teams of, in this case, 15 participants on each side, as that was how many Humans were available that day without hindering the core operations of their embassy, so a few Jorvals had to sit out.
They entered a large spherical room with about a 300 meter diameter. Once they were done with the formalities, rules about safety, and yadda yadda - they turned off the gravity. Using small boosters on their heels, knees, elbows, and back, the teams floated to their starting locations on opposite ends of the sphere. And now the obstacles gently puttered in from all sides, turning a pristine empty space into a jungle of jarringly colored geometric shapes, natural looking plant replicas, and numerous traversable but obscuring meshes that come in all colors and patterns. Where once you could observe the entire area from anywhere, now there were scarcely any vistas that would allow one to see more than 50 meters away.
All for a simple capture the flag laser tag game. The Jorval have fairly long lifespans and, though they have not engaged in any wars for generations, military training is compulsory and seen as a matter of course by most of their society, so even the most desk-dedicated office workers are in generally good shape and have some reflexive combat moves at the ready. The Human team on the other hand, had one guy who used to be in the army... 40 years ago, two had taken up martial arts as a hobby, and Yarvut who turns out was an air-soft enthusiast. The rest were your typical either slightly too thin or too thick office workers when it came to their physical readiness.
Before the signal to start, the army guy, Brandon, gave out some tips and pointers, though it was likely going over everyone's heads as they tried to adjust to moving around in zero-g. No sooner had the game started, Yarvut dashed off on his own. Everyone did kinda feel he might do a lone wolf thing, but that, unsurprisingly, was short lived, as not even the two minute mark had struck when Yarvut found himself ambushed from three sides and was now locked in his suit gently pressed up against a tree-like obstacle with a modest view of the Jorval turf.
It would be a best of three, and, predictably, the first match ended with a strong Jorval victory by the seventeenth minute mark. However, it was not a total wipeout as the initial minutes might have suggested. Half of the remaining Humans were taken out within five, but by then Brandon had gotten used to moving in all directions and keeping tabs on the z-axis as well, and was coordinating a defensive tactic with the remaining members. He knew they would lose this match, but he was bent on making the Jorval earn it and show him what they could really do. In the end, every Human was taken out, and the Jorval had lost only three members, though all of which fell victim to the final holdout against just four Humans.
When it was time to swap home bases for the next match, before Brandon could start elaborating on his new tactics, Yarvut surprised everyone by huddling everyone together for a tactical discussion himself. From his position early on he was left with nothing else to do but carefully and calmly observe how the Jorval moved, where they focused their sights on, how close they tend to stick to each other, and other minor details which Brandon was deeply impressed by. Using this newfound perspective and knowledge, Brandon came up with a far more refined strategy for both offense and defense.
Seemingly bolstered by the humiliating defeat, the rest of them were also more motivated, and the entire Human team now gave off, what the neutral observers of the games described as, a different aura. Like something had flipped, that turned this group of people they knew and worked with and respected and generally liked, into something menacing, a focused machine almost. The look in their eyes through the visors sent shivers down most everyones spines or equivalents whenever a camera operator decided to do a zoom in.
Upon the start signal, the Humans split into five squads, one pair on defense duty, one four person team on patrol around the immediate vicinity, and three squads of three on offense, taking the longest route all around the edge of the sphere going for a three-sided ambush of the Jorval's home turf. It was amazing to see how much smoother and more coordinated each Human moved now, when before it was the first time most of them were expected to maneuver in zero-g using suits they had never worn before. You could literally see them adapting and intuitively getting a better by the minute at handling the booster-based movement, and navigating and keeping tabs on all three dimensions. Some were better at it than others, but even the most clumsy of the Humans was still visibly more comfortable now than thirty minutes ago.
The patrol squad had a quick skirmish with a Jorval scout, paralyzing his legs before he made a rapid retreat and taking no wounds themselves. Then a minute of silence, interrupted by a burst of activity coming from the Jorval base, then another minute of silence.
Yarvut was the only of the attack squad members to return, his left arm paralyzed, but he rushed past the defense members to plant the enemy flag in their base and take the win. It was now 1-1.
Another huddle, nobody even needed to call for it, now everyone on the Human team had fully switched to "hunter mode", as a Human audience member called it.
The third and deciding match wasn't even close. Once again, five squads, but this time three each and all in attack formation. They did not give the Jorval even time to fully disperse before the Humans came barreling through the obstacles just thirty seconds after the start signal. Shock and awe - every Jorval was taken out in the next twenty seconds, no Human losses.
Combining what everyone conveyed about their opponents from the second match with Yarvut's keen observations from the first, Brandon figured the Jorval were behaving in a standardized and heavily drilled pattern and would likely repeat it for the third, perhaps with minor alterations expecting another three-way ambush or some other sneaky and delayed attack. Their scout had also not arrived all that fast, so they must have trained to be very methodical in their approach. Brandon also employed a methodical defense the first time, then a coordinated precision strike, so, naturally, it was time for a sledgehammer approach.
And it worked beautifully, completely catching everyone off guard, even the audience. Blink and you missed the entire action. Everyone knows Humans can be reckless and even downright crazy, but to witness them going full "hunter mode" was a first for practically all observers. And this was just some office workers and an elderly former low ranking soldier. What kind of monsters were their actual well trained and fully geared up soldiers then?
_______________________
I really want to limit how much I describe the sentient aliens as they are not the focus of these stories, but it would be awkward to keep saying "those bipedal aliens", so a compromise this time. How they look beyond bipedal I'll leave entirely to your imagination.
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How did you figure out you're aromantic?
Oh, god, what a short question for such a long process, hahaha. First off, didn't figure it out until recently, age 27, but here was the approximate (and very truncated in the amount of internal conflict and introspection involved) step-by-step process:
Figured out I was queer in high school because I felt the same way about women as I did about men! Spent about 5 years thinking I was bisexual.
Figured out that I'm not actually attracted to men when I read a post describing the experience of compulsory heterosexuality and related with it intensely, which was a very freeing experience. Spent 6 years thinking I was a (nonbinary) lesbian!
Hooked up at parties a couple of times out of curiosity and then took up my best friend's offer to fuck and realized that I got the same amount of skin-crawling distaste about that as I did about sexual contact with men, thus realizing I was ace.
Let that domino tip over into the, "Actually, identifying as gay has for a long time given me the same anxiety as I used to feel when I thought I'd have to date a man, and also I'm 27 years old and have never, ever actually wanted to date another human being. When people ask me what my ideal partner is like, I start listing off ways in which they should not bother me or demand my time or be part of my life. Maybe I just don't want... anyone." domino, and the subsequent "I'M FREE!! (from trying to date women)" euphoria was identical to the "I'M FREE!! (from trying to date men)" euphoria, so.
That's where I'm at!
I'm a generally introspective person, but I'm also really great at gaslighting myself into ignoring my own discomfort, so largely it's been, haha, a diagnosis of exclusion. First I excluded men, then the discomfort with women grew large enough that I was able to exclude them as well. Reading about other people's experiences and realizing where they paralleled my own was immensely helpful! So was being close friends with a very poly person who slowly and fully unintentionally changed my perspective on how I view relationships in a very poly-and-relationship-anarchy-as-default way, which incidentally is extremely compatible with aroace queerplatonic ideals and definitely softened me up to be ready to accept that particular realization.
Also, please let this be a sign that just because you identify with one "thing" doesn't mean that you're committing to it forever! <3
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Okay. Okay, I have to ask. I saw some cool ass artwork but I have no context and now I have to ask.
What is Murderbot?
Ohhhh my goshhhhh!! Thank you for asking! 😍
The Murderbot Diaries is a series of 5 novellas and 2 novels by Martha Wells
6 /7 of the books are action/adventure sci-fi and one is a sort of detective in space thing.
Murderbot (my beloved) is a construct created of organic human clone tissue and non-organic mechanical parts. It is a deadly weapon and a tool for corporate surveillance, but it’s also a person. It’s got a “governor module” in its brain that will torture or kill it if MB does not follow commands from the company that owns it or from the people that lease MB for security.
But when Murderbot hacks its own governor module, finally freeing it, what will it do? Go on a killing spree?? Get revenge on its corporate overlords???
Answer: it will watch soap operas and keep its day job.
I love Murderbot, it’s the best and most relatable character ever (my roommate says, no. MB is not that relatable. It’s just the autism). I love the stories and the sense of humor. I found the books last year, went feral for them, and bought a complete set of signed copies.
Thank you, The Void for your ask!! I love to talk about Murderbot!!!
Pro-tip: if you do read the books, go for chronological book order rather than publishing order (I put my preferred reading order under the cut)
(Book 1) All Systems Red
Story story “ The Future of Work: Compulsory” (this is a prequel for ASR, but it works well here)
(Book 2) Artificial Condition
(Book 3) Rogue Protocol
Optional Short Story “Obsolescence” (MB is not in it, but it takes place in the same universe and chronologically happens well before the events of All Systems Red. It’s an entirely optional read, but it provides a little context for one paragraph in Exit Strategy)
(Book 4) Exit Strategy
Short Story “Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory”
(Book 6) Fugitive Telemetry
(Book 5) Network Effect
(Book 7) System Collapse
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of cats 'n' dogs // l.mh
all you want for christmas is to try your hand at taking control in bed. you didn't think your unwavering boyfriend would agree; but what he didn't expect was to enjoy it this much.
⛓️ PAIRING :: lee minho x f!reader
⛓️ GENRE :: smut
⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 2.2k
⛓️ WARNINGS :: dom!minho tries subbing, bratty sub!minho, soft dom!mc, praise, bondage, oral (m + f), edging, unprotected sex, cum eating, descriptions of subspace
⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. don't edit, copy, repost or otherwise steal my content.
📍 skz masterlist
“Stop teasing," Minho groans when you lick a wet stripe from his navel to the waistband of his shorts.
"Why? You told me I could do anything I want today, kitten."
He rolls his eyes at the pet name but you notice the way the tips of his ears turn red. Normally, you’d be in his position: strapped to the bed and at his mercy. He’s always been the dominant person in your relationship (at least between the sheets) so you aren’t expecting him to give in without a fight. He might’ve agreed to this but that doesn’t mean he’s going to offer himself to you on a silver platter.
And if he thinks you don’t have it in you? Then he’s dead wrong. And you’re determined to prove it.
“Either way you don’t have much of a say in this. Unless you want to use your safeword?”
Minho rolls his eyes again. “Continue.”
You ignore his command, moving back up his torso to swirl your tongue around one of his nipples.
“What are you—ah!—doing?” He kicks his head back when you tug the sensitive bud between your teeth.
“I thought you’d have more self control than this.”
“And I thought you’d be all over my cock by now.”
You grin and palm him through his shorts, delighted by the way his eyes widen. “You’re liking this a little too much, aren’t you?”
“Just a compulsory physical reaction. You’re near me, I get hard.” He shrugs. “Pavlov.”
“I’m sure those dogs were better at following orders, though.”
He grimaces. “Less talking and more—” he gasps when you squeeze his cock again, “—of that.”
“Hmm, love it when you beg.”
“I didn’t—”
The words die on his tongue when you wrap your lips around his clothed length, mouthing at the head. You can faintly taste the precum that’s wetting the fabric of his shorts. You’ve been teasing him for nearly an hour now, never touching him below the belt. He must be so hard it’s starting to hurt; his heightened senses send in overdrive by the sudden contact even with the layer of cotton in between.
You might’ve teased him about his self control earlier but you’re impressed by how long he’s holding out. He’s right; if the roles were reversed you would’ve started begging for his cock a long time ago. The only thing keeping you from straddling him right now is your conviction. You’re thankful he’s restrained so he can’t feel or see the wetness pooling between your thighs.
You’re starting to understand why he enjoys being a dom this much.
You trace the outline of his erection with your tongue until the fabric is soaked with spit. Minho’s tugging at his cuffs, clearly affected even if he tries his hardest to hold back his moans.
“Just—fuck.” He sounds exasperated now. “Just touch me.”
“I’m touching you.”
You suck a dark bruise into his thigh. They’re so big and strong you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day between them. Looking up at him with innocent eyes, the scowl you receive in return communicates something along the lines of you know what I mean.
“I’ll take them off when you’re a good boy. Behave.”
“So I really am the dog in this little experiment of yours, aren’t I.”
“I liked calling you kitten but I suppose pup could work.” You trace the muscles in his thigh with one hand before giving the flesh a harsh slap, making him yelp. You watch it jiggle while his cock twitches at the same time. Another tiny crack in his demeanor you file away for later. “Now are you gonna comply or do I have to put a muzzle on you?”
“Fine,” he mutters. He stares at the ceiling as if he’s never seen a more interesting surface before.
You halt, suddenly unsure of what to do. Did he really give in? Or is this another scheme of his?
“Well?” He squints down at you. “Cat got your tongue?”
And just like that he’s flipping the script again. You mentally scold yourself for hesitating. It feels like he’s always one step ahead of you. You’re inexperienced when it comes to playing this role and he knows it.
You need a more direct approach.
“No cats here.” You make a show of sticking your tongue out as far as you can, dragging it over his thigh. “The dog may get one more chance, though.” You suck another bruise into his skin before pulling back. “If he stops barking.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
You ignore him, no longer feeling like giving in to his endless quips. You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head as he tries to figure out your next move.
From the way he moans when you suddenly wrap your lips around his clothed cock and bite down, this wasn’t what he was anticipating.
“I’ve changed my mind. Let me hear you.”
Your fingers tug at the waistband of his shorts while you mouth at his tip. He whimpers louder and you reward him by dragging his shorts down his thighs until his cock springs free.
It seems your intent has finally caught on because the high-pitched, whiny sound he makes when you tongue at his slit is nothing short of sinful. You kitten-lick his swollen head and swipe your tongue along his shaft from base to tip with long strokes. He chases your mouth with his hips as much as the cuffs around his ankles and wrists allow, clearly vexed by not being able to set the pace or touch you.
“You’re doing so well,” you coo, cupping his balls. “Such a good little pup.”
His squirming stills and you look up to find his cheeks flushing a deep red.
Of course. Praise. After all the times he got flustered when on the receiving end of a compliment you should’ve known it would translate to the bedroom as well. But when he’s in his usual dom persona there aren’t many chances for you to praise him until after the act.
You smirk and stroke his cock slowly. “Oh, so that’s what the big bad wolf likes? Being a cute needy pup for me?”
Minho is watching the ceiling again. “Maybe I just want to cum.”
“Don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” you murmur as you collect his precum with your thumb to spread it over his velvety skin. “Keep being such a good boy and I’ll ride you, might even let you fill me up, how does that sound?”
Careful not to hurt him you suck on his balls, taking them into your mouth while your hand slides along his cock. He’s more vocal now; letting out low groans and high-pitched whimpers when you press your tongue against his perineum.
“That’s it, you sound so pretty like this.” Your grip around his length tightens when you see how responsive he is. “You’re beautiful. My Christmas present. I’ve always wanted a puppy,” you tease while your other hand circles his rim.
It’s true. And with his hair mussed, cheeks flushed and skin covered in bite marks he looks absolutely delectable. His cock feels heavy in your fist and you can’t wait to sink down on it. You have to press your thighs together to find some relief for the ache between your legs.
“I’m gonna—fuck—” Minho croaks suddenly and you let go of his cock, watching it twitch against his stomach as his impending orgasm recedes. His head falls back against the pillow. “I was so close.” His eyes squeeze shut when you slip out of your panties and straddle him, dragging your wet cunt over his swollen cock. “Ahh—please—”
“What did you say, pup?” You cup his cheek. “I can’t hear you.”
“Please, no more teasing,” he pleads. You recognize the glassy look in his eyes. It’s the same look you see reflected back at you in the mirror after he’s had his way with you. “I’ll be good, I—”
He tugs at the cuffs in frustration, unable to form words. You bend over to press a kiss to his mouth. His bottom lip is swollen from his teeth clamping down on it repeatedly. “Shh, gonna give my pup what he wants, okay? You’ve been so good. Gonna take care of you now, don’t worry.”
You moan in unison when you finally sink down on his cock, his hips flush against your ass. Even without prep there is no resistance; your body has been craving this ever since you stepped into bed.
“You feel so good,” you whisper against his lips. “Pup’s got such a big cock, stretching me out so well. Never wanna get off. Want you inside of me all the time.”
Minho has never felt this floaty. There’s a static buzz in his ears as his entire world shrinks down to your voice and the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him.
The meek whimpers he lets out at your words are addicting. His eyes roll back when you start grinding your hips in slow circles, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. “Look down. Look at how well you fill me up.”
He does as you say, captivated by your pussy sucking in his cock as you start bouncing on it. After getting so close earlier you know he won’t last long if you keep riding him like this. And since you’re not used to him being restrained you miss the feeling of his hands on your body.
“Listen, pup.” His eyes snap up to yours, big and round and pupils blown so wide nearly all you can see is black. “I’m gonna untie you and then you’re gonna make me cum on your pretty cock like a good boy, okay?”
He nods, whining when you get off to loosen the cuffs. You press a quick kiss to his lips. You didn’t expect him to become this non-verbal after his initial mouthiness. You’re so accustomed to his constant witty remarks (both in and outside of the bedroom) this sudden change in demeanor is worrying you a little.
“Everything okay, pup?” you ask, massaging his wrists. “Color?”
“Green,” he answers, kicking off his shorts. “It’s… going to be a lot to process, but I feel good. I trust you.”
You smile and press another kiss to his lips.
“It’ll be yellow if I don’t get to cum soon, though.”
You laugh at his cheeky grin. It’s good to see his wittiness is still intact.
“Watch your tone, pup. Or I’ll cuff your hands behind your back and make you eat me out for another hour.”
Minho groans. “I’ll take all the pussy I can get.”
“So desperate,” you recline against the sheets and guide his cock between your legs. “I like it.”
He follows you without a word, closing his eyes when he sinks back between your velvety walls. You feel so wet and warm around him he has to use all his strength to keep himself from blowing his load as soon as he starts moving. His head drops into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
“Who would’ve thought my fierce kitty could be such a good pup?” you hum into his ear. He likes to pretend otherwise even though he’s never been anything but soft. So all of this doesn’t really come as a surprise, but you revel in the way your words make his hips stutter.
“And good pups deserve a reward.” You tug his earlobe between your teeth. It earns a low groan from him. “Do you want to choose yours?”
Minho can feel himself slipping away again. He leans back and his unfocused eyes take you in. “Wanna fill you up…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “And eat you out after.”
“You don’t have to—” you start but he cuts you off. He grabs your hips and tilts them so he can thrust into you deeper. The new angle has the head of his cock brushing against your most sensitive spot and you moan at the sudden pleasure flooding your body. It’s only a taste of what he can do but it feels fucking delicious already.
“I want to,” he assures. “Let me make you feel good, wanna cum, please—”
You’ve never seen him this desperate before. His brows are tightly knit together. His voice is wavering. You realize he’s waiting for your approval—no doubt using all his willpower to keep himself from reaching his high while your tight hole clenches around his cock. The knowledge he’s handing this power to you is almost enough to send you over the edge.
“Cum for me, pup,” you order and he does so with a sob, spilling his warm seed inside of you with a few short strokes. He stays there for a moment, trembling as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple. You let him catch his breath until he wriggles himself out of your hold to settle between your spread thighs.
You feel his cum dribble out of you until it’s intercepted by his flat tongue sweeping through your folds. You whimper when he sucks on your clit and pushes his face closer into your cunt.
“I’ll be your good pup,” he grins while he sinks two of his fingers into your hole, “then you can be my kitten again.”
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tipping discourse is very annoying because like, regardless of if you agree with it or not, you are going to look like an asshole for not tipping in places that tip. i think tipping should not exist or at the very least should not be compulsory and should be a bonus on top of a livable wage, but i’m not going to be the asshole to deprive my server of that vital income. its an unfortunate position, but its truly something that needs to be legislated as to hurt service staff as little as possible.
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Whitewash is extremely moral. Suppose there were a decree requiring all rooms in Paris to be given a coat of whitewash. I maintain that that would be a police task of real stature and a manifestation of high morality, the sign of a great people. -- Le Corbusier
A shocking call for compulsory whitening is made at the end of a key modernist manifesto. The pronouncement is associated with the signature whiteness of modern architecture -- an aesthetic regime that was presented as a complete revolution of the built environment in the 1920s and became the unconscious default setting of everyday life. Just look at the predominantly white background of most of the kitchens, offices, living rooms, bedrooms and bathrooms around the world [...]. Le Corbusier didn’t simply call for whitewash to be imposed by the police in the name of health. It was meant to act as a form of policing in its own right, a technology of surveillance that would put in motion an ever-expanding culture of self-policing. Whitewash exposes every dimension of life in front of it to judgement. It acts like “a court of assize in permanent session” that will “give a power of judgement to the individual,” and thereby “make each one of us a prudent judge.” [...] A “Law of Ripolin” -- the brand name of the hard impermeable and washable enamel “sanitary paint” invented at the end of the nineteenth century [...] is needed to ensure that all interiors are painted white to target any form of dirt or darkness:
Imagine the results of the Law of Ripolin. Every citizen is required to replace his hangings, his damasks, his wall-papers, his stencils, with a plain coat of white ripolin. His home is made clean. There are no more dirty, dark corners. Everything is shown as it is. Then comes inner cleanness [...]. When you are surrounded with shadows and dark corners you are at home only as far as the hazy edges of the darkness your eyes cannot penetrate. You are not master in your own house. Once you have put ripolin on your walls you will be master of yourself. [...]
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Whiteness manufactures health, morality, and intelligence. [...] The office of a modern factory that is “clear and rectilinear and painted with white ripolin” is a place of “healthy activity” and “industrious optimism.” [...] Le Corbusier’s routinely authoritarian and often explicitly eugenic and fascist impulses, associations, and actions make him an easy target. But there are endless, quieter, ultimately more controlling and insidious celebrations of whiteness in other hands. Le Corbusier is but a tip of the vast iceberg of whiteness. [...]
The very idea of an interior is the effect of this everyday violence. Architecture is never simply complicit with authority. Authority without architecture might not even be thinkable. [...]
There is no apolitical concept of health; no natural body or brain waiting to be cared for or abandoned by medicine and architecture that is not already an effect of those biopolitical regimes.
It is through the question of sickness that architecture reshapes the human. The idea of a healthy architecture is always about the health of a small group relative to multiple others [...]. Whiteness is coded as a fragility requiring protection through continual acts of preemptive violence. Whiteness is not a thing but a defense and deployment of power over others. [...]
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Whiteness in Le Corbusier’s The Decorative Art of Today, for example, is simultaneously the most modern thing to do, the very symptom of modernity, and the most ancient of gestures. [...] Le Corbusier’s argument was first published in a late 1923 issue of L’Esprit Nouveau [...]. It was, after all, the extended “Voyage d’Orient” of 1911 (including the Balkans and Greece, but especially Turkey) where Charles-Édouard Jeanneret, the young architect from a small mountain town in Switzerland who would a decade later rename himself “Le Corbusier,” became “besotted with white” and convinced that the future of architecture was white. Whiteness is discovered in the lands of the non-white; of those seen to be closer to deeper human history and therefore to be admired and learned from. In fact, the very point of going to the East was to encounter its “great white walls” as an antidote to the self-absorbed decadence of architecture in the North, as Jeanneret explained [...]. Jeanneret expresses nostalgia for the more intact and mesmerizing whiteness of the great mosques and vernacular houses of Constantinople (Istanbul) [...] [and] “Algiers-the-white.” [...] This pervasive sense of contamination provoked the call for a second, more explicit law to impose whiteness not only onto industrial culture, but also onto its victims: the people of color and places seen as newly “unhealthy” -- requiring, as it were, a dose of “their” own medicine. [...]
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The “white” architecture of the 1920s drew on countless experiments in whitening buildings in the name of health. This included, precisely, the use of Ripolin that had already become standard in clinics, hospital wards, and sanatoria rooms at the turn of the century.
In 1899, for example, the Touring-Club de France, inspired by one of its [...] cyclist members who was a doctor, started a campaign for an easily disinfected “hygienic room” in hotels that would be Ripolin-lined [...]. Hotel rooms were treated as hotspots for contagion [...]. Given the largely upper-middle-class membership of the club, this anxiety about disease was also class anxiety, fear of the unclean other. The tourist was to be mobile yet isolated by a prophylactic whiteness that would itself travel in advance.
The Touring-Club exhibited such a prototype “white room” with toilette and toilet spaces designed by Gustave Rives at the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris -- strategically placed just inside the entrance of the Palais de l’hygiène [...]. The Touring-Club installed a series of such model chambres hygiéniques in automobile shows, congresses on tuberculosis, and international fairs. It was successful in persuading thousands of hotels to install such spaces [...].
Ripolin was used “everywhere,” for example, on the walls of the “hygienic housing” project for workers in Paris by Henri Sauvage and Charles Sarazin in 1903–1904. [...] The project was originally intended to feature a radical all-glass street façade with every window surrounded by webs of floor-to-ceiling hexagonal glass blocks [...] which would have been the most polemical housing structure possible, the most therapeutic role of glass, more extreme even than any sanatorium. The design was produced in immediate response to the new public health law of 1902 and the associated new building regulations. [...]
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It is always about control of the threatening other of epidemic disease and control of the laboring poor, itself coded as dark, migrant, and contagious, a disease in its own right. And throughout this discourse of control, there is a seemingly “modern” disdain for disease-incubating ornament in favor of smooth white surfaces. [...] What is remarkable in the end is this trans-historical resilience of whiteness [...]. It orchestrates life and death.
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Text by: Mark Wigley. “Chronic Whiteness.” e-flux (Sick Architecture series). November 2020. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]
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shifting tip?
something that really helped me through my reality shifting journey is the mindset change I've had.
I got into shifting in mid-2021, I started trying in late 2021 and gave up in late 2022. for more than a year, I completely cut off shifting from my life. then, earlier this year, in January, I re-got into it. I've tried to shift last night for the first time since January. and damn, I was closer than I ever was in 2021-2022. I actually almost shifted unintentionally last Saturday too. that's what motivated me even more.
now the thing is, since January I've tried learning more about shifting than I already did, I also started learning about manifesting, the void state and the law of assumption. and I started following many shifter creators that ACTUALLY helped me. I built another type of relationship with reality shifting, as I said in a previous post a much healthier one. now I actually know what I'm doing and I'm fully conscious about my dr and I honestly feel more connected to it than I ever was before. back in 2021 I just thought about shifting as something so hard and difficult to achieve and almost impossible, I used to try literally every night, and honestly the creators used to put so much pressure on the viewers with those "don't move while you're trying to shift", "you need a method to shift", "you have to drink 9294992 litres of water per day to shift" kinda stuff.
now I've acknowledged that shifting is easy. it's literally the easiest thing to exist and we're all master shifters.
the tip that helped me the most is
don't put your DR on a pedestal.
imagine there is a tall building.
let's say you are on the 1st floor.
most shifters tend to put their dr on a pedestal, meaning they see their dr on the top floor of the building.
by doing that, you basically see your dr as something "hard to get to", something almost unachievable.
instead, try to put your cr and your dr on the same level. you'll understand you're already in your dr, you can shift there whenever you want to, and shifting will become even easier than it already is.
of course this is not compulsory to successfully shift, but yeah it helped me A LOT and it changed my mindset so much so I hope it can help you too!
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In 1968, the American scholar Jerome M. Gilison described Soviet elections as a “psychological curiosity”—a ritualized, performative affirmation of the regime rather than a real vote in any sense of the word. These staged elections with their nearly unanimous official results, Gilison wrote, served to isolate non-conformists and weld the people to their regime.
Last Sunday, Russia completed the circle and returned to Soviet practice. State election officials reported that 87 percent of Russians had cast their vote for Vladimir Putin in national elections, giving the Russian president a fifth term in office. Not only were many of the reported election numbers mathematically impossible, but there was also no longer much of a choice: All prominent opposition figures had been either murdered, imprisoned, or exiled. Like in Soviet times, the election also welded Russians to their regime by serving as a referendum on Putin’s war against Ukraine. All in all, last weekend’s Soviet-style election sealed Putin’s transformation of post-Communist Russia into a repressive society with many of the features of Soviet totalitarianism.
Russia’s return to Soviet practice goes far beyond elections. A recent study by exiled Russian journalists from Proekt Media used data to determine that Russia is more politically repressive today than the Soviet Union under all leaders since Joseph Stalin. During the last six years, the study reports, the Putin regime has indicted 5,613 Russians on explicitly political charges—including “discrediting the army,” “disseminating misinformation,” “justification of terrorism,” and other purported crimes, which have been widely used to punish criticism of Russia’s war on Ukraine and justification of Ukraine’s defense of its territory. This number is significantly greater than in any other six-year period of Soviet rule after 1956—all the more glaring given that Russia’s population is only half that of the Soviet Union before its collapse.
In addition to repressive criminal charges and sentences, over the last six years more than 105,000 people have been tried on administrative charges, which carry heavy fines and compulsory labor for up to 30 days without appeal. Many of these individuals were punished for taking part in unsanctioned marches or political activity, including anti-war protests. Others were charged with violations of COVID pandemic regulations. Such administrative punishments are administered and implemented rapidly, without time for an appeal.
On March 4, 2022, a little over a week after the Russian invasion of Ukraine began, Russia’s puppet parliament rapidly adopted amendments to the Russian Criminal Code and Criminal Procedure Code that established criminal and administrative punishments for the vague transgressions of “discrediting” the Russian military or disseminating “false information” about it. This widely expanded the repressive powers of the state to criminally prosecute political beliefs and activity. Prosecutions have surged since the new laws were passed, likely leading to a dramatic increase in the number of political prisoners in the coming years. In particular, punishments for “discrediting the army” or “justification of terrorism”—which includes voicing support for Ukraine’s right to defend itself—have resulted in hundreds of sentences meted out each year since the war began. The most recent such case: On Feb. 27, the 70-year-old co-chairman of the Nobel Peace Prize-winning human rights group Memorial, Oleg Orlov, was sentenced to two and a half years in prison for “discrediting” the Russian military.
As the Proekt report ominously concludes, “[I]n terms of repression, Putin has long ago surpassed almost all Soviet general secretaries, except for one—Joseph Stalin.” While this conclusion is in itself significant, it is only the tip of the iceberg of the totalitarian state Putin has gradually and systematically rebuilt.
As in the Soviet years, there is no independent media in Russia today. The last of these news organizations were banned or fled the country after Putin’s all-out war on Ukraine, including Proekt, Meduza, Ekho Moskvy, Nobel Prize-winning Novaya Gazeta, and TV Dozhd. In their place, strictly regime-aligned newspapers, social media, and television and radio stations emit a steady drumbeat of militaristic propaganda, promote Russian imperialist grandeur, and celebrate Putin as the country’s infallible commander in chief. In another reprise of totalitarian practice, lists of banned books have been dramatically expanded and thousands of titles have been removed from the shelves of Russian libraries and bookstores. Bans have been extended to numerous Wikipedia pages, social media channels, and websites.
Human rights activists and independent civic leaders have been jailed, physically attacked, intimidated into silence, or driven into exile. Civic organizations that show independence from the state are banned as “undesirable” and subjected to fines and prosecution if they continue to operate. The most recent such organizations include the Andrei Sakharov Foundation, Memorial, the legendary Moscow Helsinki Group, and the EU-Russia Civil Society Forum. In their place, the state finances a vast array of pro-regime and pro-war groups, with significant state resources supporting youth groups that promote the cult of Putin and educate children in martial values to prepare them for military service. Then there are the numerous murders of opposition leaders, journalists, and activists at home and abroad. Through these various means, almost all critical Russian voices have been silenced.
Private and family life is also increasingly coming under the scope of government regulation and persecution. The web of repression particularly affects the LGBT community, putting large numbers of Russians in direct peril. A court ruling in 2023 declared the “international LGBT movement” extremist and banned the rainbow flag as a forbidden symbol, which was quickly followed by raids and arrests. Homosexuality has been reclassified as an illness, and Russian gay rights organizations have shut down their operations for fear of prosecution. Legislation aimed at reinforcing “traditional values”—including the right of husbands to discipline their wives—has led to the reduction in sentences and the decriminalization of some forms of domestic violence.
Many of the techniques of totalitarian control now operating throughout Russia were first incubated in territories where the Kremlin spread war and conflict. Chechnya was the first testing ground for widespread repression, including massive numbers of victims subjected to imprisonment, execution, disappearance, torture, and rape. Coupled with the merciless targeting of civilians in Russia’s two wars in Chechnya, these practices normalized wanton criminal behavior within Russian state security structures. Out of this crucible of fear and intimidation, Putin has shaped a culture and means of governing that were further elaborated in other places Russia invaded and eventually came to Russia itself.
In Russian-occupied Crimea and eastern Ukraine since 2014, there has been a widespread campaign of surveillance, summary executions, arrests, torture, and intimidation—all entirely consistent with Soviet practice toward conquered populations. More recently, this includes the old practice of forced political recantations: A Telegram channel ominously called Crimean SMERSH (a portmanteau of the Russian words for “death to spies,” coined by Stalin himself) has posted dozens of videos of frightened Ukrainians recanting their Ukrainian identity or the display of Ukrainian symbols. Made in conjunction with police operations, these videos appear to be coordinated with state security services.
In the parts of Ukraine newly occupied since 2022, human rights groups have widely documented human rights abuses and potential war crimes. These include the abduction of children, imprisonment of Ukrainians in a system of filtration camps that recall the Soviet gulags, and the systematic use of rape and torture to break the will of Ukrainians. Castrations of Ukrainian men have also been employed.
As Russia’s violence in Ukraine has expanded, so, too, has the acceptance of these abominations throughout the state and in much of society. As during the Stalin era, the cult of cruelty and the culture of fear are now the legal and moral standards. The climate of fear initially employed to assert order in occupied regions is now being applied to Russia itself. In this context, the murder of Alexei Navalny ahead of the presidential election was an important message from Putin to the Russian people: There is no longer any alternative to the war and repressive political order he has imposed, of which Navalny’s elimination is a part.
All the techniques and means of repression bespeak a criminal regime that now closely resembles the totalitarian rule of Stalin, whom Putin now fully embraces. After Putin first came to power in 1999, he often praised Stalin as a great war leader while disapproving of his cruelty and brutality. But as Putin pivoted toward war and repression, Russia has systematically promoted a more positive image of Stalin. High school textbooks not only celebrate his legacy but also whitewash his terror regime. There has been a proliferation of new Stalin monuments, with more than 100 throughout the country today. On state-controlled media, Russian propagandists consistently hammer away on the theme of Stalin’s greatness and underscore similarities between his wartime leadership and Putin’s. Discussion of Stalinist terror has disappeared, as has the memorialization of his millions of victims. Whereas only one in five Russians had a positive view of Stalin in the 1990s, polls conducted over the last five years show that number has risen to between 60 percent and 70 percent. In normalizing Stalin, Putin is not glossing over the tyrant’s crimes; rather, he is deliberately normalizing Stalin as a justification for his own war-making and repression.
Putin now resembles Stalin more closely than any other Soviet or Russian leader. Unlike Nikita Khrushchev, Leonid Brezhnev, Konstantin Chernenko, and Yuri Andropov—not to mention Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin—Putin has unquestioned power that is not shared or limited in any way by parliament, courts, or a Politburo. State propaganda has created a Stalin-like personality cult that lionizes Putin’s absolute power, genius as a leader, and role as a brilliant wartime generalissimo. It projects him as the fearsome and all-powerful head of a militarized nation aiming, like Stalin, to defeat a “Nazi” regime in Ukraine and reassert hegemony over Eastern and Central Europe. Just as Stalin made effective use of the Russian Orthodox Church to support Russia’s effort during World War II, Putin has effectively used Russian Orthodox Patriarch Kirill as a critical ally and cheerleader of Russia’s brutal war in Ukraine. And just like Stalin, Putin has made invading neighboring countries and annexing territory a central focus of the Kremlin’s foreign policy.
Putin’s descent into tyranny has been accompanied by his gradual isolation from the rest of society. Like the latter-day Stalin, Putin began living an isolated life as a bachelor even before the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Like the later Stalin, Putin lacks a stable family life and is believed to have replaced it with a string of mistresses, some of whom are reported to have borne him children for whom he remains a remote figure. Like Stalin, he stays up late into the early-morning hours, and like the Soviet dictator, Putin has assembled around him a small coterie of trusted intimates, mostly men in their 60s and 70s, with whom he has maintained friendships for decades, including businessmen Yury Kovalchuk and Igor Sechin, Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu, and security chief Nikolai Patrushev. This coterie resembles Stalin’s small network of cronies: security chief Lavrentiy Beria, military leader Kliment Voroshilov, and Communist Party official Georgy Malenkov. To others in leadership positions, Putin is a distant, absolute leader who openly humiliates seemingly powerful officials, such as spy chief Sergey Naryshkin, when the latter seemed to hesitate in his support during Putin’s declaration of war on Ukraine.
Through near-total control of domestic civic life and media, his widening campaign of repression and terror, relentless state propaganda promoting his personality cult, and his vast geopolitical ambitions, Putin is consciously mimicking the Stalin playbook, especially the parts of that playbook dealing with World War II. Even if Putin has no love for Soviet Communist ideology, he has transformed Russia and its people in ways that are no less fundamental than Stalin’s efforts to shape a new Soviet man.
Putin’s massive victory in a Soviet-style election last weekend represents the ratification by the Russian people of his brutal war, militarization of Russian society, and establishment of a totalitarian dictatorship. It is a good moment to acknowledge that Russia’s descent into tyranny, mobilization of society onto a war footing, spread of hatred for the West, and indoctrination of the population in imperialist tropes represent far more than a threat to Ukraine. Russia’s transformation into a neo-Stalinist, neo-imperialist power represents a rising threat to the United States, its European allies, and other states on Russia’s periphery. By recognizing how deeply Russia has changed and how significantly Putin is borrowing from Stalin’s playbook, we can better understand that meeting the modern-day Russian threat will require as much consistency and as deep a commitment as when the West faced down Stalin’s Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War.
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male reader & daryl getting real high (smokin lots of joints) off in a secluded area of alexandria? talking about really deep shit, like their equally horrible pasts, & bonding over how similar they are? idk i'd love to see that. :)
thank you for the request :)
A/N: this is poorly proof read and could've been a lot longer i just got really impatient and i had to post something. also the reason why their conversations are so vague is because 1- theyre high 2-theyre men
so there you go :)
"Took me damn forever to find ya." The archer huffed as he ambled towards you. His backpack was hanging on his left arm as his apperance hinted how he was very well ready and equipped.
Your eyes were semi-shut as you inhaled the joint between your fingers. The clammy tip of the marijuana kept easing your muscles, making them only become more lethargic with each passing second as contentment was all you could sense in your being.
A cunning smirk was bearing your features because you couldn't help it. The run had already gotten cancelled and seeing the tough archer this keen made you ridicule him inside though you knew it was wrong, you were getting lit.
Your eyes observed the area for a brief moment. You were close to the outer walls in Alexandria where no one took patrols owing to the fact that it was one of the strongest walls.
Wind carried a few kids' laughter as they hurried to catch a ball as your eyes shifted to Daryl.
"What'ca ya doin?" He inquired with squinted eyes and curiousity he couldn't conceal.
"Gettin' high." A smirk tugged the corner of your lips as you raised one brow softly.
He stood inches away from you as he eyed you down. He rested his body weight on his right leg and bit on his middle fingernail.
You squinted your eyes at him as the sun was shining behind his body.
"Ain't the time."
"C'mon." He spoke under his breath and turned his body to the side.
"The run got postponed." You confessed at the end.
A sense of being taken aback flashed his face.
"Wha' for?" He spoke low
You exhaled as smoke escaped your mouth and lowered your head. You leered at him through your brows for an insant.
"Some herd is moving towards the area or some shit." You sighed once again, lifting your gaze to see him.
He kept his hands on his pockets, eyes narrowed indicating he was lost in thought. You shielded your hand above your eyes as you got up, pushing your chest out. Your cockyness could be spotted ten miles away everytime you were up in the clouds due to being high.
"Have a smoke with me." You mouthed.
His hesitation radiated the perimeter as you looked at him and inquired
"No?"
You challenged him as he seemed as if being pulled back into the Earth. His brows raised, looking through your entire being.
You had only known him for a few months when your group ran into two people called Glenn and Tara. Your group was on a mission that seemed to be never ending, yet some idiotic scene broke out. That Eugene guy had you fooled in your entire journey.
You didn't really know Daryl, neither did he. He was the silent type, not talking much unless necessary or for the sake of so-called compulsory morality even in the events of a nettlesome apocalpyse.
You approached near your bag you had left next to the thorns alongside lawn that hadn't been mowed for atleast a couple months. You put one knee on the ground as you took out your stash.
You got up, throwing the pack of stash to the air and catching it.
"Let loose." You exasperatedly sighed and rolled your eyes enough to catch his attention.
"Runnin' off like dis helps ya with wha' ?" He geniuenly wondered as you could see him relaxing a bit more. His brows were still furrowed yet you sat on the step of a stair.
"You wouldn't believe it." You quipped as you tapped your hand on your next to the step.
You traced him through your lashes with squinted eyes. You could view his undecisive, reluctant-ish demanour.
" 'm in." He muttered vaguely and sat next to you as a grunt left his mouth.
You took out your lighter in your pocket and ignited his joint.
It wasn't until he burnt a few marijuanas that he finally uttered a few words. Until then, neither of you did anything besides inhaling the soothing drug between your lips. The more breeze grazed your faces, the more tranquil you both became. So out of touch with outer problems that were going on at the moment. So serene, so unruffled.
"Heard ya was a military guy." He explained. Your eyes shifted to his face lightly to observe his droppy eyes, god knows how sleep deprivated he was. His back was slouch, head barely lifted to the direction infront of his eyes.
"Did it for money." You confessed, sticking your piercing gaze to his greasy hair in hope to get him look at you.
"Mmhm." He clattered subtly as he chewed on his goatee beard.
"Were you?" You inquired, contemplating this might be one of the very few chances you had to get to know this group of people a bit better, people whom you had meet not so long ago.
"Nah."
"Mah brother, Merle, was." He got quiet, brows furrowed more than before. No matter how tranquil he became, you noticed how he couldn't get his teeth off his lips or beard.
"You got a brother?" You sung in a zealous way. You adored men like Daryl, men who grew up in the south. Men like you. Real Americans.
"Did." He uttered softly as he forced a harsher scowl.
Your eyes widened lightly, mouth ajar as your chopped lips throbbed at the breeze. This was the end of the world, it was never bright to ask such questions
"Fuck, man. I- I didn't know." You finally spoke low as he clapped his hand to get rid of the dust that had accumulated from the step in this unattended side of the town.
You were face to face as mortification swarmed all over your body. You had tonnes of questions, did he die before the fall? What was he like? Does he think about him occasionally?
"Relax." A forceful smile painted his lips as his eyes fixated on the wall infront of him.
"I ain't thinkin' 'bout him no more." His averted stare locked on a far distance.
His joint was between his chopped lips as he picked the skin on his calloused fingers.
"Left fer tha military not cuz he was ready ta be a martyr." He clenched his jaw, eyes spiritless more than ever. Narrowed as though he couldn't think of words to utter. Plain as it was, you didn't want him to close in his shell because of your anticipation in getting to know him more.
"Bleed fer America or sum' shit." He added.
"Did it to escape life." His lack of energy was evident.
"If a man's got his reasons." You muttered under your breath as your head sagged between your shoulders softly. You didn't mean what you said, that's why it came out so brittle, so weak. Even you didn't believe it, it was just some limp excuse you had created for yourself years ago so that you would stay sane.
"Nah, I knew his damn reasons."
He gave you an insightful glare, leaving you crumble inside.
You took a deep breath, fingers playing with the buttons of your flannel. Your eyes raised at your fingertips as you debated whether to speak up or not.
"You know, I grew up in Georgia."
"Countryside, very south." You shook your head as you let out a nervous chuckle. Your smile lines didn't shift as they started tremble slightly from how long you'd been holding a smile.
"Son to a rancher family. Fanatically religious."
You dared to eyeball him through your brows. Smoke hitting his face as breeze changed its direction, your hair fell infront of your eyes.
"I mean, I know I don't sound like a southerner."
"But I am."
"Worked damned hard to lose my accent 'cause of prissy boys." You let another uneasy chuckle, remembering the very first day your dad dropped you in some college you'd believed you were gonna succeed in, that you were gonna prove you can be better than your blood. That you could end the cycle and prove everyone else wrong.
It wasn't even a term in school that you decided to drop out. You couldn't go back home and bear hearing condescending comments from your family, how college was some capitalist trick, how you should be like them and not fill your head with delusional ideas. So you signed up for military.
You were getting way away from your point as he turned his head to you, grabbing another marijuana from your stash.
Your track of thought was interrupted by the sound of him going through your stash.
"Fuck it. Now I'm just ramblin' " You shook your head as you took a long drag.
"Ya ain't. Keep goin' "
You couldn't tell if he was just being polite -yet rational for you to assume he never had such worry. You glared at him with cautious eyes as he placed his palms on the frontstep of the back door of the whatever abandoned house's perimeter you were on. He placed his feet on the long, untamed lawn, crossing his next foot on the other and threw his head back. You could feel him getting lost due to marijuana, you lost count of how many he had had now.
"The way I see it," He grunted between drags and observed the sky with his dark eyes.
"Ain't nothin' there ta worry 'bout." He spoke as if he couldn't believe his ears to see someone being this self-conscious about their accent.
"Fer me, never did." He took another drag.
"Never had ta deal with no pansies from the city before."
"That was stupid, I know." You chuckled at his way of seeing things.
"Where'd ya say ya grew up in again?" He shifted his head to you after a couple of seconds
"Georgia."
"Uh-huh." He curled the tip of the marijuana with his thumb as he exclaimed softly.
"What is it?" You asked.
"Same 'ere." He raised a brow.
"Fact is, ain't never been outta Georgia 'fore al' dis." A smile between sorrow and misrepresented self-conceit coloured his features. He squinted eyes at you.
"Ain't no way." You huffed with a hint of astonishment in your eyes.
"Tha's right." He said.
" 'Lways had sum' shit ta keep ma' engaged."
"Nuthin' worth a damn." His eyes indicated a sense of inward melancholy.
"Just drifted behind ma brother 's all I done. Did whatever he'd told me to." His eyes spaced out as though he was remembering those days.
It got silent. You respected his privacy at the moment. You couldn't tell if he was gonna regret having you told these things next day. You didn't even know if it bothered you. You had more things in common than you'd ever guess.
"You got family before all this?" You asked, not hiding your interest.
"If ya can call it tha' " He chuckled loosely.
Your eyes observed his body head to toe as he lied down restlessly on the stairs with a curled marijuana that was to burn his fingertips.
"Old man was a jackass. Ain't never done shit for us." He kept speaking. He wasn't looking at you, in fact did it feel like he didn't acknowledge anyone's presence.
"And ma' mom.." He didn't finish his sentence. You didn't force him to.
"Well.." His adam's apple trembled lightly as he used the wooden floor as an ashtray.
He got quite more than ever, eyes glossy which put you in disbelief. You couldn't know men like him would cry infront of an another man. Nonetheless, after a few swift blinks, he put himself together. He shifted his position and sat on the corner of the stair, back leaning against the porch fence as he beheld you.
"Grew up surrounded by a whole bunch of people that knew nothin' 'bout them kids."
Your heart clenched at his words. You knew the feeling, you swallowed your spit as you wished you had brought something to drink.
He sat across you. You dropped your head between your shoulders as you restlessly controlled your shallow breaths.
You didn't know what was going on inside of you. Your stomach felt like tightening alongside with the feeling of your heart being flipped inside and out.
Blood rushing to your every cell only made you stimulated, hands getting sweaty as you kept being occupied with your flannel's buttons.
You pressed your lips together only to start biting on the skin a second later.
"Ya al'right over there?" He asked mindlessly.
You lifted your head as he started to scribble on the wooden floor with his knife. He eyeballed you through his brows. His body language suggested a subtle irritation as you didn't answer. You were thinking of right words to utter.
"It's just... Didn't think you'd be the person who..."
You cut it mid-sentence as you decided to not jump into a conclusion.
"Men like you are always so though and so..." Your eyes traced the sky and your lips kept shaking as you begged to utter the proper things.
"Stop." He shook his head and your eyes grazed his face.
"Ain't into tha' whole pep talk crap." The curls of his lips trembled. He went back to scribbling the floor as if not expecting a respond from you.
"It ain't a pep talk." You stuck your gaze upon his greasy bangs.
"My dad was a drunken 'sides the times he was done with his farm errands." Your eyes followed his scribbles on the floor as your mind travelled to that dreadful childhood, youth...
"Taking care of the animals or..."
"I don't fuckin' know, mending the field or some shit."
You knew it like the back of your hand that you didn't make any sense at the moment. Your body, brain, mind were just too numb.
"Just another asshole that had a problem with everyone else in the house..." You muttered.
"Sucks." He grunted.
"It does." You mumbled once again.
You spent the rest of the day either sitting in complete silence or talking about the world before everything had gone to shit as sun set over Alexandria.
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NSFW Ghost Headcanons!
A/N: While I'm still writing Part 4 of the Left Behind series, have this for the meantime!
Warning: Nsfw! Also kinda self-indulgent lmao
Fave sex position: mating press. He loves being deep in you, it makes him go wild at the sensation of his girthy cock plowing through you, his tip kissing your cervix. Another favorite of his is doggystyle, bro goes feral when your ass bounces at his every thrust.
"Eyes on me, don't fucking look away, yeah?" Eye contact is compulsory when doing the dirty with this man. He loves seeing your face twist in pleasure. He gets more desperate with his thrusts the more your face reflects what you're feeling while being fucked.
He's a dom, naturally. Loves to take control 90% of the time. Grabs hold of your wrists, puts a hand on your throat. He sometimes lets you take the reins, but through his words.
Likes to fuck when you're fully naked, yet he's still fully clothed. He does get naked with you if there's more time and a more comfy place like a bedroom, but he frequently just pulls you into an empty room when the sexual tension is strong and you consent to impromptu sex.
He's an ass guy, loves holding on to yours as he pounds you mercilessly. Sinking his fingers on your asscheeks, spanking you into submission, you name it. He loves the way your flesh slaps against him. He even sneaks a cheeky squeeze when you pass by him in public.
During sex he mixes cute and dirty nicknames, like "my pretty little cumslut". Loves to hear you moan and beg for him, it makes him feel good knowing you're enjoying sex with him.
Incredible dirty talker. Bro can do a podcast of him just dirty talking for hours and you would listen to it 24/7. Praises you constantly, knowing it drives you crazy. "Thaaat's it, good fucking girl."
Possessive as FUCK, loves creampie-ing you. When he pulls out of you, you overflow with his thick cum.
He starts all dommy and rough, but he comes undone once he climaxes. Moans like a champ but whimpers a bit when he's thrusting his orgasm out.
Great at aftercare, always ready to cuddle and helps you catch your breath. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you both fall asleep.
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