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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

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Hello this is just to say that I am very interested in that post you mentioned maybe making about indirect communication!

So to define Direct and Indirect communication with a pair of examples real fast:

Direct communication: "Hey, can you do the dishes?" Indirect communication: "There's dishes in the sink." (Please wash them.)

Indirect communication tends to trip a lot of ND, but especially Autistic people up because the implied request in the parentheses... doesn't always come through. So you don't do the dishes, and the Indirect communicator gets frustrated because they thought they had made that request perfectly clearly.

Which, in their defense, they did! ...in their micro-cultural language.

See, the actual purpose of Indirect Communication is to provide some extra verbal personal space and non-aggression measures in micro-cultures where people's personal autonomy has been compromised but there is also a high degree of understood social context.

Hm. That's a weird sentence. Let's try some more examples.

Indirect communication is most common in places or situations where people's ability to stay in their own lane is compromised, but everyone also shares the same base knowledge of what's going on. One example is in large cities, where people are PHYSICALLY up in each other's personal space because they're physically crowded. So cities have etiquette like "Don't make eye contact on public transit unless you actually need to address someone", so that, if people can't stop violating your personal space, they can at least signal non-aggression and give you some privacy. People raised in large cities, or who have lived there for a while all learn these unspoken rules by trial and error, some of us with more errors and trials than others.

Thus, in physically compact situations, "There's dishes in the sink" means "There's dishes in the sink." (I trust that you are already familiar with the social rules that dictate that dishes need to be done, and assume the reason you haven't done them is because you haven't seen the sink yet. I won't insult your intelligence by elaborating on the Do The Dishes Rule, because I know you are smart <3)

Speaking of Privacy, the other place indirect communication is common is in situations where people have Limited Privacy and thus everyone knows what's going on with them, and they know what's going on with everyone else, whether they want to or not. Close-knit families and religious communities often have this shared no-privacy pool, but it can also happen with you and two roommates in a 100sq ft apartment, or on a research vessel in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Since y'all are up in each other's business, indirect communication is there to prevent hostility in close quarters.

This, in a low-privacy situation, "There's dishes in the sink." means "There's dishes in the sink." (I know you are a good and responsible roommate who is maybe a little forgetful, and I trust you to have enough context from living in the live feed of everyone's life to know that I need them done. I won't insult you by suggesting your motivation was malicious in any way, and i trust you to do them <3)

So, to an indirect communicator, that was a perfectly clear request to do the dishes because OF COURSE you'd know what they meant- literally everyone else they deal with is in on this shared knowledge of social rules and daily updates. And not elaborating on that request is an affectionate sign of trust in your competence.

Except, you know. You're not.

So, you try to explain to your indie friend that "There's dishes in the sink." only sounds like an observation, and your brain will not auto-fill in the request like theirs does, so if you want me to do the dishes, just ask with words, okay?

And your indie friend understands this! but then instead of going "Hey, can you do the dishes?" they instead don't say ANYTHING until they're really frustrated with the state of the kitchen, and communicate VERY directly at you, and with great anger.

What happened?

So remember how indirect communication exists to prevent hostility and violence? That's because the threat of hostility and violence is VERY, VERY REAL.

Like you, your indirect communication friend made some mistakes while learning The Unsaid Rules and How To Use The Shared Information Pool, and the social hammer came down on them HARD. Ostracization, ridicule, maybe even actual, psychical harm. So they grew very, very afraid of violating those secret rules, and doubly so with people they like, so your indirect communication friend is facing this HUGE EMOTIONAL BLOCK when it comes to directly communicating with you, because to someone who grew up with their boundaries compromised and the threat of hostility if they violate the communication rules, communicating directly with someone they love feels really, really, really mean and they don't want to hurt or lose you.

For real, "Hey, please do the dishes" sounds like "Hey, please do the dishes." (You fucking moron who doesn't give a shit about our home and probably hates me) to them, and they don't want to talk like that to you. It's like how we never like picking the mean dialogue option in video games.

So instead they... just don't say anything at all, rather than risk a potential confrontation, and then the dishes don't get done and it turns into a REAL confrontation.

What a headache.

So what are we gonna do?

Well, you can't control your friend's actions, emotional reactions or interpersonal skills, but you can manage yours, and you're gonna have to meet them halfway, and it's gonna feel like training a skittish cat that coming out from under the couch is safe. Several-pronged approach:

DO NOT PUNISH BEHAVIOR YOU WANT TO SEE. When your friend does manage to say "Hey, please do the dishes?" don't go "UUUUGH IN A MINUTE." even if you are in the middle of something else and their timing sucks, which is probably does. Stick to either neutral responses ("Cool, let me finish this paragraph and I'll get on that") to positive responses ("Oh, sure! Thanks for letting me know!")

REWARD THE BEHAVIOR YOU WANT TO SEE. -and then actually go do the dishes to demonstrate that this approach not only is safe, it's effective. Also, praise your friend when they do a good job communicating with you. "Hey, thanks for actually asking me to do the dishes, that was really helpful." or "You're doing a great job navigating and giving me directions, this is much less stressful than the GPS" or "Thanks for being honest about how I was annoying you and bringing it up before it became a huge issue." This will kind of feel like you're an actor on sesame street teaching big bird how to say please and thank you, but honestly? that was the age most of us learned our communication skills, and we return to that teaching method because BY GOD IT WORKS.

MODEL THE BEHAVIORS YOU WANT TO SEE. Humans learn by copying, so lead by example with the kind of communication that helps you, and explain why it helps. "Hey friend, a question so I can schedule some stuff- Do you have any plans this weekend I should know about, or am I clear to paint the bathroom?"

This is the one that sucks but YOU GOTTA MEET THEM HALFWAY AND LEARN ABOUT THE CONTEXT POOL. Can't make everyone learn, and Indirect communication has it's uses (especially in modern jobs and social media), so you gotta learn their style too. I literally have a discord server that's just me where I keep notes on the life events and conditions of my friends, coworkers, neighbors and loved ones because I know I won't remember that shit, but they will kind of expect me to, and it's been a lifesaver in both not blundering into social faux pas, and actually getting around my crap memory to know them better. You can also model hybrid communication and practice your indirect skills by using an indirect request opener, but then saying the rest of the implied context aloud: "Hey, there's dishes in the sink. I know you'll do that ASAP because you're cool, I just wanted to make sure you knew they were there and needed to be washed, thanks <3"

Accept that some people aren't gonna change for reasons that are beyond their control and probably have nothing to do with you, and decide what you're willing to invest in learning to deal with them. I still have to play 5D words chess with my mother-in-law, who was raised in a close-physical-space-AND-no-privacy culture and is an excruciatingly anxious indirect communicator as a result. I can't make her go to therapy for the anxiety, and until she does, her ability to communicate effectively probably won't improve. It's got nothing to do with me, even if I'm the person she's most frequently at odds with. As a result, I have extremely limited contact with her. I don't see her for more than a few hours at a time, when we have an activity to do together, and only a handful of times a year. More than that, and I get brainworms by proxy, so for my sanity, I've limited what I am willing to do with her. Maybe your indirect communicator is someone worth effectively learning a second language for, like a lover. Maybe they're someone you can cut out of your life entirely without issue, like a manger at a retail job you can quit. You'll have to decide.

Anyway, that's my raised-bilingual ADHD/Autism Direct/indirect communicator ramble, hope it helps.

#Long post #communication skills #Note: I'm not a therapist #I just live this experience #so take this with a handful of salt #but this has worked for me

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saraswritingtipps · 9 months

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Some tips to help you improve your writing style:

1. Read widely: Reading a variety of genres and authors exposes you to different writing styles and helps you develop a broader vocabulary and an understanding of various sentence structures. For example, if you want to improve your descriptive writing, read books by authors known for their vivid imagery like J.R.R. Tolkien or Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

2. Write regularly: Like any skill, writing improves with practice. Set aside dedicated time for writing, whether it's a journal entry, a short story, or an essay. Consistency is key. By writing regularly, you'll become more comfortable expressing your ideas and develop your unique voice.

3. Be mindful of your audience: Tailor your writing style to suit your target audience. Consider their level of familiarity with the subject matter, their interests, and their expectations. For instance, if you're writing a scientific paper for experts in the field, use technical language and provide in-depth analysis. On the other hand, if you're writing a blog post for a general audience, use accessible language and relatable examples.

4. Use active voice and strong verbs: Active voice makes your writing more direct and engaging. It emphasizes the subject performing the action rather than the action itself. For example, instead of saying "The ball was thrown by John," use "John threw the ball." Strong verbs also add clarity and power to your writing. Compare "He walked slowly" with "He sauntered" or "He ambled."

5. Vary sentence structure: Experiment with different sentence lengths and structures to maintain reader interest. A mix of short, medium, and long sentences can create rhythm and flow. For example, a series of short, punchy sentences can build tension or convey urgency, while longer sentences can provide detailed explanations or set a contemplative tone.

6. Use precise and vivid language: Choose words that convey your meaning precisely and evoke vivid imagery. Instead of saying "The flower looked pretty," you could say "The delicate blossom bloomed in vibrant shades of crimson and gold." Specific and descriptive language brings your writing to life and engages the reader's senses.

7. Edit and revise: Good writing often requires multiple rounds of editing. After you finish a draft, take the time to review and revise your work. Look for clarity, coherence, and grammar errors. Consider whether each sentence contributes to the overall message and whether the organization of your ideas flows logically. Don't be afraid to make significant changes if they improve your writing.

8. Seek feedback: Share your work with trusted friends, colleagues, or writing groups. Constructive feedback can help you identify blind spots and areas for improvement. Consider their suggestions while maintaining your unique voice and style.

#writing style #writing #writing tips #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer tumblr #writing advice #writblr #writing help #writing ideas #writing problems #writing block

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skyefeys · 21 days

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A Comprehensive Guide to Writing Gina Dialogue!!!

Do YOU like writing tgaa fics, but find yourself struggling to understand the speech habits of Gina Lestrade? Well, fortunately for you, I love linguistics and accents almost as much as I love Gina - so I've compiled a breakdown of every quirk in her speech!

(Full analysis under the break!)

Most of Gina's speech patterns can be broken down by three fundamental facts:

She speaks with a thick Cockney accent

She's uneducated, which leads to various grammar troubles

She uses a lot of informal cockney terms/slang

Let's get into it section-by-section!

(Note: Formatting looks a lot better on mobile!)

Section 1: Cockney Accent

So I’m an theater kid, and I've done dialect training for Cockney accents before - it's one of my best ones imo - so that certainly helped me write this section! Even without that, though, it's pretty easy to identify how her accent appears in her speech. Let's break it down!

Drop h's

Example: Here becomes 'ere

Drop g’s at the end of words

Example: Going becomes goin'

A few other word ends that get dropped:

Of becomes o'

And becomes an'

Th changes depending on the word - Thank you to annoyingloudmicrowavecultist for properly explaining how this works in the tags!

Voiced th becomes v

Example: With becomes wiv

Unvoiced th becomes f

Example: Nothing becomes nuffin'

For writing purposes, if a word would become unrecognizable with this change, it's left the same (but in actual speech, it would be pronounced differently)

Example: Father remains as father (but would be pronounced like fovva)

Th always remains intact at the start of words

Example: Thing remains as thing (but would be pronounced like fing)

Miscellaneous word changes

Something becomes summat (but other times is just somefin' - she's not consistent with either)

What becomes wot, whatever becomes wotever

Tomorrow becomes tomorra

Because is often shortened to 'cause, which becomes cos

Isn't almost always becomes ain't

Thank you / no thank you becomes ta / no ta

Some words spill together or are slurred

With that becomes wivvat, with it becomes wivvit (This one isn't actually used in-game, so you don't have to use it either, but it reflects how she'd actually be pronouncing it)

Isn't it becomes innit

Doesn't it becomes dunnit

Suppose becomes s'pose

Don't know becomes dunno

Probably becomes prob'ly

You might change - Another loose/inconsistent rule. Can depend on how the sentence would be pronounced out loud, but mostly is just a vibe

You becomes ya

Your/you're becomes yer

Yourself becomes yerself

Section 2: Grammatical Errors

Gina is an uneducated East End orphan, so it should come as no surprise that she makes mistakes here and there. Here are her consistent ones! Some of these are confusing/hard to explain, so I included specific examples.

Will say me instead of my, and meself instead of myself

Example: "I dunno much about guns meself."

Incorrect tense usage of was/were in negatives - Instead of I/it wasn’t, she’ll say I/it weren’t

Example: "I was up in a balloon, weren't I?"

Incorrect tense usage of does/do in negatives - Instead of he doesn’t, she’ll say he don’t

Example: "Somefin' wot 'e don't want people readin'."

Double negatives

Ever becomes never in negative statements

Example: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Never + anything becomes never + nothing

Example: "I never done nuffin' o' the sort!"

Never + anyone becomes never + no one

Example: "All me life, growin' up in the slums, I've never trusted no one."

Haven't you ever becomes ain't you never

Example: "Ain't you lot never gone over an 'ouse lookin' for dough when the owners are out o' town?"

The word that or who in the context of ascribing a feature to a subject is replaced by the word what

Example: "She's always goin' on about all them cases wot Sholmes is lookin' into."

Other example: "I think I wouldn't fancy me chances wiv a lawyer wot lives in a place like this."

Will say them instead of those

"All them skylights open, dead easy."

Will say no more instead of anymore

"Ya dropped it, so it ain't yours no more."

She’ll sometimes mess up bigger, unfamiliar words. This one's entirely in your discretion what words she might mess up. Some canon examples:

“Supperment” instead of supplement

“Mantlescript” instead of manuscript

On a similar note, she'll sometimes confidently get sayings wrong and think she sounds smart

“Toby's...'ow did they put it...? ...Oh, yeah! A 'bone-fide' detective!”

Section 3: Cockney Terms/Slang

In addition to her thick dialect, growing up in the East End means Gina has also adopted a plethora of unique words and phrases. This'll be more like a vocab section!

Cockney rhyming slang - Some words are replaced with phrases that rhyme with them. She uses a few in canon:

Instead of believe, she’ll say Adam an’ Eve

“Would you Adam an' Eve it, eh?! Wot a mug!”

Instead of face, she’ll say chevy chase

“Yeah, I can see it written all over yer chevy chase!”

Interjections/Exclamations

Blimey - Express surprise or shock

"Blimey, yer right! That streak o' light in the photo looks just like an arrow, dunnit?"

Cor - A general interjection, kind of a euphemism for god

"Cor, listen to you! Ya stumble across a bit o' balloon an' suddenly yer the best investigator in the world!"

Oi - I doubt I need to define this one, but it's basically the equivalent of "hey"

"Oi! That's off limits up there!"

Words for people

Cove, bloke - A boy or man. Gina tends to use cove more often than bloke.

"That's where the cove ended up after 'is 'instant kinesis' or wotever they call it."

"When I lifted the last bloke's purse, 'e got wise to me."

Dandy - A conceited, fashionable upperclass man. Can be used as a noun or adjective.

In reference to Ashley Graydon: "I swear on my life, I ain't never laid eyes on that dandy before."

Dee - Thank you to uzukirie for figuring this out in the replies of this post - dee is short for detective!

To Sholmes: "I don't need no 'elp from some stuck-up dee!"

About Gregson: "Yeah, the dee let me keep it. After I looked daggers at 'im for long enough."

Swell - A wealthy or elegant person. In canon, Gina uses this exclusively in reference to McGilded.

"It's because o' that, this swell found me. …'E did 'elp me get away, mind."

Miscellaneous vocab

Dodgy - Suspicious

"It was amazin' when you showed that dodgy professor's dodgy experiment was a total fix!"

Rum - Odd or strange

"I mean, wot's the point of spendin' a joey to make a few bob, eh? That's a rum idea, innit?"

Coppers - Cops

"If you do wot the grown-ups tell ya, it'll get yer mates dragged off by the coppers. Or worse."

Scarper - Flee/run away/leave in a hurry. Also comes from rhyming slang - Scarper = Scapa Flow = Go

"If I did that, 'e said 'e'd let me scarper before the coppers showed up."

Have a butcher's - Take a look. Also comes from rhyming slang - "butcher's hook" = look

"Most days I push the cushion up wiv me 'ead an' look out the crack. Then I can 'ave a butcher's at who I'm gonna fiddle."

Rude words/phrases :)

Gordon Bennett - Expresses surprise or contempt - kind of a euphemism for goddammit.

"Gordon Bennett! You lot!"

Flamin', bleedin', - General emphasis. Pretty much just gentler ways of saying fucking.

Note!! You might be tempted to make Gina say "bloody", since that's well-known British slang, but she never says that. She says bleedin' in its place.

"Don't be so flamin' rude, 'Oddo!"

"It's lies every bleedin' place ya look in this world, innit?"

Bleedin’ Nora - A variation of "Bloody Norah", a surprised/irritated interjection.

"Wot the bleedin' Nora, 'Oddo?! Wot 'ave you gone an' done?!"

Bogtrotter - A derogatory term for an Irish person. She uses this to refer to McGilded.

"Look at the mess it's got you into, believin' in that bogtrotter!"

Mug - An idiot.

"You can't do it from inside, you mug."

Blue blazes - An alliterative exaggeration of "blazes". A euphemism for hell.

"Where the blue blazes 'ave you been, eh?"

Cobblers - Rubbish/nonsense. Literally, it means testicles - derived from Cockney rhyming slang, where "cobbler's awls" = balls.

"All this nonsense about the boss plannin' to kill people… It's cobblers!"

And 1.2k words later, that's pretty much it! Now you can write Gina dialogue spot on <3

Feel free to suggest anything I'm missing/got wrong - I come back and edit this for accuracy's sake every time I notice something I left out, or when people in the replies/tags point things out!

#tgaa #dgs #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #gina lestrade #dai gyakuten saiban #gaac #tgaac #the great ace attorney chronicles

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ghelgheli · 10 days

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hey you might've been asked this before sorry if so, but have you read or do you have any thoughts on A short history of Trans Misogyny?

I have read it! I have a few thoughts.

I think it's a strong and important work that compiles historical archives into sharp analyses of how "trans misogyny" (using Jules Gill-Peterson's spacing) is not a recent phenomenon but a globalized structure with centuries of history. I also think it's flawed, for reasons I'll get into after a quick summary for those who haven't had the chance to read it yet.

JGP divides the book into three main chapters, the first on the notion of "trans panic". There, she traces how variants of this anxiety with the trans-feminized subject have presented—to deadly effect, for the subject—in such different settings as early colonial India, the colonization of the Americas, the racialized interactions between US soldiers stationed in the Philippines and the local trans women living there, and of course the contemporary United States itself. In every case she analyzes this "panic" as the reaction of the capitalist colonial enterprise to the conceptual threat that the trans-feminized subject poses; we are a destabilizing entity, a gender glitch that undermines the rigid guarantees of the patriarchal order maintaining capitalism. Punishment follows.

The second chapter is my favourite, and considers the relationship between transfeminine life and sex work. I posted a concluding excerpt but the thrust of the chapter is this: that the relegation of so many trans women and trans-feminized people to sex work, while accompanied by the derogation and degradation that is associated with sex work, is not itself the mere result of that degradation inflicted upon the subject. In other words, it is not out of pure helplessness and abjection that so many trans-feminized people are involved in sex work. Rather, sex work is a deliberate and calculated choice made by many trans-feminized people in increasingly service-based economies that present limited, often peripheralized, feminized, and/or reproductive, options for paid labour. Paired with a pretty bit of critical confabulation about the histories of Black trans-feminized people travelling the US in the 19th century, I think this made for great reading.

In her third chapter, JGP narrativizes the 20th century relationship between the "gay" and "trans" movements in north america—scare quoted precisely because the two went hand-in-hand for much of their history. She emphasizes this connection, not merely an embedding of one community within another but the tangled mutualism of experiences and subjectivities that co-constituted one another, though not without tension. Then came the liberal capture of the gay rights movement around the 70s, which brought about the famous clashes between the radicalisms of Silvia Rivera and Marsha P Johnson (neither of whom, JGP notes, ever described themselves as trans women) and the institutions of gay liberalism that desired subsumption into the folds of capital. This is a "remember your history" type of chapter, and well-put.

I think JGP is correct to insist, in her introduction, on the globalizing-in-a-destructive-sense effects of the colonial export of trans womanhood. It is, after all, an identity conceived only mid-century to make sense of the medicalized trans subject; and "gender identity" itself (as JGP describes in Histories of the Transgender Child) is a psychomedical concept conceived to rein in the epistemic instability of trans existence. This is critical to keep in mind! But I also think JGP makes a few mistakes, and one of them has to do with this point.

In her first chapter, under the discussion of trans misogyny in colonial India, JGP of course uses the example of the hijra. Unfortunately, she commits two fundamental errors in her use: she mythologizes, however ambiguously, the "ascetic" lives of hijra prior to the arrival of British colonialism; and she says "it's important to say that hijras were not then—and are not today—transgender". In the first place, the reference to the "ascetism" of hijra life prior to the violence of colonialism is evocative of "third-gender" idealizations of primeval gender subjectivities. To put the problem simply: it's well and good to describe the "ritual" roles of gendered subjects people might try to construe contemporarily as "trans women", the priestesses and oracles and divinities of yore. But it is best not to do so too loftily. Being assigned to a particular form of ritualistic reproductive labour because of one's failure to be a man and inability to perform the primary reproductive labour of womanhood-proper is the very marker of the trans-feminized subject. "Ascetism" here obviates the reality that it wasn't all peachy before (I recommend reading Romancing the Transgender Native on this one). Meanwhile, in the after, it is just wrong that hijra are universally not transgender. Many organize specifically under the banners of transfeminism. It's a shame that JGP insists on keeping the trans-feminized life of hijra so firmly demarcated from what she herself acknowledges is globalized transness.

My second big complaint with the book is JGP's slip into a trap I have complained about many times: the equivocation of transfemininity with femininity (do you see why I'm not fond of being described as "transfem"?). She diagnoses the root of transmisogyny as a reaction to the femininity of trans women and other trans-feminized subjects. In this respect she explicitly subscribes to a form of mujerísima, and of the trans-feminized subject as "the most feminine" and (equivalent, as far as she's concerned) "the most woman". Moreover, she locates transfeminist liberation in a singular embrace of mujerísima as descriptive of trans-feminized subjectivity. As I've discussed previously, I think this is a misdiagnosis. Feminization is, of course, something that is done to people; it is certainly the case that the trans-feminized subject is in this way feminized for perceived gender-failure. This subject may simultaneously embrace feminized ways of being for all sorts of reasons. In both cases I think the feminization follows from, rather than precedes, the trans misogyny and trans-feminization, and there is a fair bit of masculinization as de-gendering at play too, to say nothing of the deliberate embrace of masculinity by "trans-feminized" subjects. Masculinity and femininity are already technologies of gender normalization—they are applied against gender deviation and adapted to by the gender deviant. The deviation happens first, in the failure to adhere to the expectations of gender assignment, and I don't think these expectations can be summarized by either masculinity or femininity alone. I think JGP is effectively describing the experience of many trans-feminized people, but I do not think what she presents can be the universalized locus of trans liberation she seems to want it to be.

Now for a pettier complaint that I've made before, but one that I think surfaces JGP's academic context. In her introduction she says:

In truth, everyone is implicated in and shaped by trans misogyny. There is no one who is purely affected by it to the point of living in a state of total victimization, just as there is no one who lives entirely exempt from its machinations. There is no perfect language to be discovered, or invented, to solve the problem of trans misogyny by labeling its proper perpetrator and victim.

Agreed that "there is no perfect language to be discovered"! But JGP is clearly critical of TMA/TME language here. Strange, then, that less than ten pages later she says this:

this book adds the phrase trans-feminized to describe what happens to groups subjected to trans misogyny though they did not, or still do not, wish to be known as transgender women.

So JGP believes it is coherent to talk about "groups subjected to trans misogyny", which she thinks consists of the union of trans women and what she called "trans-feminized" groups. If this is to be coherent, there must be groups not subjected to trans misogny. So we've come around to transmisogyny-subjected and not transmisogyny-subjected. Look: you cannot effectively theorize about transmisogyny without recognizing that its logic paints a particular target, and you will need to come up with a concise way of making this distinction. But JGP dismissing TMA/TME with skepticism about "perfect language" and immediately coining new language (basically TMS/not TMS) to solve the problem she un-solved by rejecting TMA/TME... it smells of a sloppy attempt to make a rhetorical point rather than theoretical rigour. It's frustrating.

I have other minor gripes, like her artificial separation of "trans women" from "nonbinary people" (cf. countless posts on here lamenting the narrow forms of existence granted TMA people if we want recognition as-such!) or her suggestion that "a politics of overcoming the gender binary" is mutually exclusive from rather than necessarily involved with struggles around "prison abolition, police violence, and sex work". Little things that give me the sense of theoretical tunnel-vision. But I don't think all this compromises the book's strengths as a work of broad historical analysis. I would simply not take every one of its claims as authoritative. Definitely give it a read if you have the chance, especially for the second and third chapters.

#ask answer #jules gill-peterson #(i haven't been asked this before ty for asking <3 🐐)#note that this was mostly off the cuff except what i had taken pictures of bc i left the book in toronto for my mom to read

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most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer · 8 months

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Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: …There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"

#edited to add the note about crowley's perspective right after the cut! apologies if it seemed anti-aziraphale before!#good omens meta #good omens lockdown #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorcees #i can't even imagine navigating the pandemic brain scramblies while pining THAT HARD #Aziraphale is a company man (gn) but i think S3 will cure him of that #long but if i can't write essays about this on tumblr then where #good omens spoilers

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merrinla · 7 months

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Halsin's Sorrow from early access

The old datamine looks like an alternate universe. I find some parts of it much interesting than in the full release. The part of Isobel's death, when Halsin killed her in self defense, after she attacked him for unknown reasons. Then Ketheric unleashed the shadow curse. These events were mentioned in Halsin's diary. And it's really emotional.

---------- [This is an ancient notebook, whose ink is faded and pages are starting to crumble. It's not easy, but some words can still be made out.]

How do you describe events like these? An accident? A tragedy? The cruelty of fate?

It does not matter. Isobel is just as dead.

I can't remember what happened with any clarity. We were negotiating. She with [...] I led the druids. [...] words grew heated [...] threw the first punch. It was mayhem.

[...] stared at me, my glaive's blade buried in her stomach and shock in her eyes. I can't believe she wanted to hurt me. It was pure instinct - the heat of combat.

[...] washed the blood from my hands. My glaive was still there, coated in her blood, but something else felt different. There's a sickness in the blade. It seems cursed, but by whom? Selûne herself?

It is locked away now. I do not trust its power in the wrong hands. And I never want to see it again. ---------- In Ketheric, I see my errors made manifest. He did not fall - he was pushed. His grief was twisted by shadow, but none could deny my hand gave that grief shape. ----------

He gave the glaive the symbolic name Sorrow. And in the description it caused psychic damage to the one who used it. ---------- A heavy, cold energy clings to the glaive like the blood rusted to its blade. It fills your very being with regret

The wielder takes 1 Psychic damage whenever they deal damage using this blade. ----------

Halsin saw Ketheric not as an enemy, but as a victim of circumstances. After all, he knew what it was like to lose family (in theory). And he obviously blamed himself that his actions provoked such a chain of tragic events. Even if it wasn't intentional. But he also understood that Ketheric needed to be stopped and put an end to the curse. That was his motivation to join you.

So earlier he was more intertwined with the main plot of Act 2. And I can only imagine what emotional interactions this trio could get. How would Halsin react to seeing Isobel resurrected? What would Ketheric say to the person who took his daughter's life? And what would Halsin answer him?

In the release version if you kill Isobel, then during the audience you will have an interesting conversation with Ketheric. He will tell you the story of his family so that you understand what it cost him. Maybe this is a rewritten dialogue of the previous plot.

Isobel also has cut content. Оriginally more scenes were planned with her. For example, in one of them she sang.

Anyway, although this is no longer canon, I hope someday the developers will reveal new surprising details about what was left behind the scenes.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #halsin #ketheric thorm #isobel thorm #bg3 early access #bg3 datamine

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candycandy00 · 8 days

Note

Character: Sukuna

AU setting: Church

spice level: NSFW

Mood: writers choice

Kinks: Non-Con(however would it be alright if it's consensual non con?), daddy kink, breeding, spanking, Size difference and Praise

(Could it be Fem reader? Thx !! :))

I might have added a couple kinks and took some liberties with the CNC kink but I hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Sukuna as a Priest. Probably very offensive to Catholics (I know nothing about Catholicism so please look over any errors). Breeding. Spanking. Sort of CNC. Dubcon. Daddy kink (he’s a priest so Father is used instead of Daddy), light bondage. Size difference. Rough sex. Praise. Dividers by @benkeibear.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback whatsoever would be adored!

You stand in the drafty hallway outside Father Sukuna’s office, shifting from one foot to the other. He’s angry with you. He definitely saw that you were late for morning prayers, and he happened to be walking by when you flubbed reading the study verses to your students. As a new nun working in this Catholic school, you should be providing a strong example for the students to follow. Instead, they giggle when you try to scold them.

Father Sukuna, the headmaster, has had to discipline you several times now for your careless behavior and mistakes. You appreciate that he’s taking the time to give you such personal attention, but his punishments can be… severe.

And so you take a deep breath before knocking lightly on his door. He calls for you to come in, so you twist the brass doorknob and push the heavy wooden door open, then step inside.

The room is large, with high ceilings and tall windows along the back wall. The air is chilly, despite the low fire burning in the fireplace. You flinch when the door slides closed behind you, feeling like you’ve been sealed in.

There’s a large wooden desk in the center of the room, and behind it sits Father Sukuna, looking at you over the top of his reading glasses and closing the Bible in his lap before placing it on the desk.

“Do you know why I asked you to come?”

His voice is deep and smooth. His black priest robes do little to conceal his muscular form. As he pulls off his glasses, his unusual red eyes seem to shimmer. His handsome face is lined with black tattoos, remnants of his former life before joining the priesthood.

You fidget beneath his piercing gaze, thinking, far from the first time, that it’s a waste for someone like him to be a priest. Sensuality seems to ooze from every pore on his body. Every little move he makes, every word he utters with that voice, makes you think impure thoughts.

“I was late this morning,” you say, looking at the floor.

“And?” he prompts.

“And I messed up my reading of scripture.”

“Twice,” he adds.

You nod pathetically. “Yes, twice.” You raise your head then, meeting his eyes. “I beg your forgiveness, Father! I’ve only been a nun for six months now. I’m having a hard time adjusting.”

He stands up from his leather chair and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. This close, you’re very aware of how tall and big he is, how he towers over you, how he could throw you around like a rag doll if he wished. You can smell his cologne, a deep musky scent with contrasting cherry blossom undertones.

“It seems that you need more discipline, Sister. Did you come prepared?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your face burning with shame as you reach your trembling hands down and grip your robe. Hesitantly, eyes on the floor to avoid his face, you slowly pull the fabric up to your waist.

Just as he instructed, you’re wearing no panties, only black silk thigh high stockings. Even with your soft thighs pressed together, he can definitely see your bare pussy, shaved the way he demanded.

“Ah, so you can follow instructions after all,” he says, and you glance up at his face to find him grinning widely. It’s an expression wholly unbecoming of a priest.

You watch as he steps back to his desk and uses one arm to knock everything off it with a single swipe. Then he pats the desk and says, “Climb on, and get in position for your punishment.”

You drop your robe and move over to his desk. He lifts you up and sits you on it, then you nervously maneuver yourself to be on your hands and knees. Your limbs are shaky as he walks around behind you and jerks your robe up again, letting it bunch up at your waist, leaving your lower half bare. One of his large hands sets upon your naked ass, then rubs down it, tracing your shape.

“As for what we discussed earlier… are you still certain?” he asks.

“Y-yes,” you say.

Two days ago, Father Sukuna proposed giving you “special discipline” to help you improve as a nun and turn away from your careless, sinful behavior. He said it would be intense, possibly painful and embarrassing, and that you would have to consent to allowing him full access to your body, using it however he sees fit. He gave you those two days to think about it. Today, you gave him your answer.

Now, with his eyes roaming over your exposed flesh and his warm hand squeezing the fat of your ass cheek, you don’t regret your choice, even if it’s humiliating. Because you truly do want to be the best nun you can be, and… being touched by a man like him, so tall and so intimidating, with those wild tattoos, makes your body quiver with excitement. So many nights you’ve laid in your bed, shamefully touching yourself while thinking of him.

He gave you a word, what he called a “safe word”, for you to say if you decide you can no longer handle the discipline and want to stop. Otherwise, he said, he would continue no matter what you say. The very thought of being completely at his mercy both frightens and thrills you.

Stepping around to the front of you, Father Sukuna pulls your rosary from your neck and winds it tightly around your wrists, binding them together and forcing you to lean more on your elbows than your hands. This makes your position slightly more unstable, and leaves your ass elevated higher than the rest of you.

He moves out of sight for a moment, and returns holding something in his hands. It’s a large wooden paddle with several holes drilled into it. Your eyes widen as you stare at the threatening object.

“Years ago, before I became Headmaster, this paddle was used to punish misbehaving students. We don’t do that anymore, but we keep the paddle around. Sometimes it’s effective to just have it lying on the desk when talking to an unruly student.”

He slaps the paddle into his open palm, resulting in a loud thwacking sound that makes you jump. “The holes supposedly make it sting more,” he tells you, that unnerving grin spreading across his face again.

Moving to your side, he holds the paddle up, looking down at your glassy, wide eyes, then he swings it downward, smacking the harsh wood against your trembling, vulnerable ass. You cry out in pain, feeling the burn of the holes, instinctively trying to scoot away.

Father Sukuna uses his free hand to firmly grip your shoulder, holding you in place, before bringing the paddle down again. This time the sting is enough to bring tears to your eyes and a scream from your throat.

But he remains merciless.

Thwack!

Three more hits, each one hard enough to make your body jump from the desk. Your ass burns. It has to be totally raw by now.

“Father, please! Forgive me!” you weep, your knees nearly collapsing, your face now buried in your forearms, your hands clutching the rosary that has them bound together.

Father Sukuna pauses and sits the paddle on the desk beside you. He uses his now empty hand to grip your sore cheek, kneading it, making you whimper.

“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, and you struggle to comply, scooting your shaking knees further apart. He leans over to look, making you flush with heat and embarrassment. “Such a sinful body,” he says. “You’re absolutely dripping.”

“I’m so sorry, Father!” you cry, desperate to close your thighs and hide your shame, but knowing better than to anger him.

You feel his hand slide down, and then his fingers dip into your wet folds. You shudder, fighting the urge to try to pull away. He laughs as his fingers brush over your clit, making you twitch. “Such a fuckable little cunt,” he says, and you glance back at him over your shoulder, shocked by his words.

“Father?” you ask, trying to ignore the feeling of his fingers stroking you.

“Hmm? Do my words concern you, Sister? I find that hard to believe when this soaked pussy is practically begging to be fucked. Do you want that? Do you want to be fucked by my huge cock?”

“I… I don’t…”

He suddenly withdraws his hand, picking up the paddle again in one smooth motion and then slamming it back down on your raw, stinging ass. This time it hits so low that it connected with your pussy. You squeal and jerk, and Father Sukuna holds the paddle up to his face. “You’ve gotten it all sticky,” he says.

After sitting the paddle back down, he reaches down with both strong hands and effortlessly flips you over onto your back. He grabs your bound wrists by the rosary and jerks your arms above your head, then forces your legs even wider apart. He pulls your whole body down toward the end of the desk, making your robe ride up even further, nearly exposing your chest.

He uses one hand to pull up his own robe and open the black pants underneath. “I fucked countless women before becoming a priest,” he says, his voice deeper than usual. “I thought I got it all out of my system. But fuck it, I’m still a man. So I’m gonna ruin this cute little pussy of yours.”

His tone of voice, his manner of speech, they seem different, rougher. “F-father, please,” you beg, “be gentle with me!”

He pulls a massive cock from his pants and lines it up with your entrance. “Not a fuckin’ chance!” he says, then immediately shoves himself all the way in.

You gasp as you feel yourself being completely stuffed, his hands firm on your waist, keeping you steady as he pounds into you. “Please forgive me, Father!” you sob out.

“Huh? Forgive you for what?” he asks, that maniacal grin on his face.

“F-for being so sinful!”

He laughs before he leans down and extends his tongue, licking a stripe up your crying face. “No need to apologize. Your tight pussy feels fucking incredible! This sinful body of yours is a blessing!”

You feel dazed, out of your mind, as his cock repeatedly slams into you. You have no idea what’s right or wrong anymore. You gaze up at him through teary eyes. “Is… is this part of the discipline? To make me a better nun?”

He reaches one hand down to stroke your clit, making your hips buck off the desk. “Yeah, I’m making you a better nun!” he grunts. “I’m making you my personal little slutty nun!”

You can’t take anymore. Your mind and heart are so confused. Only your body seems to understand Father Sukuna’s discipline. So you let go, you let yourself fall over the edge, and you scream out his name as you cum around his cock, clenching him with everything you have.

His grin only gets wider, his red eyes gleaming, as he fucks you even harder. And when you finally feel him pulsing inside you, followed by a gush of his hot sticky cum filling you up, you lose all strength, going limp on the desk beneath him.

Once he’s bottomed out, he pulls back and looks down at you. “Good girl, taking my cock so deep. I’ll forgive your mistakes this time,” he says as he buttons his pants and pulls his robe back down. His voice is returning to his more formal tone. “But if you don’t show more grace as an employee of this school, I will have to discipline you again.”

He reaches down and unties your hands, then gives your rosary back to you, leaving you speechless and stunned. You quickly recover and scoot off the desk, jerking your robe back down to hide the cum dripping down your thighs.

“Thank you, Father,” you say with a quivering voice as you hurry out of the room.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #Candy #candys2kevent

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incognitopolls · 25 days

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hi, i sent in a comment back when one (not me) anon said they were unfollowing due to constant cisnormativity and gender essentialism in the polls. you didn't answer my ask back then, or maybe the ask disappeared since tumblr does that sometimes, but i would appreciate it if you would answer this, because i think it would be beneficial for everyone to actually talk about this openly.

i'd just like to ask, knowing that you may edit polls submitted to be more inclusive and clearer, why is the recent poll about preferences for a partner's pubic hair specifically for people with penises? and if there is another poll coming that's the same but for people with vaginas, i'm wondering why it would be necessary for a question like it to be separated like that. personally i don't see how that would make a big, or more importantly an interesting difference in the results. to me all it seems like it's doing is excluding intersex people and supporting this idea of "the two sexes" being fundamentally completely different from each other and someone's genitals playing a big part in defining people's preferences.

i'm not intending this as a hate comment, but as a genuine request for conversation around this subject, as you yourself said to the anon that unfollowed, that you'd like to hear about their side. i know i'm not said anon, but i think we're kind of talking about the same subject here, and recently there's been a lot of polls here separating people via genitals, and it's beginning to make me feel a little uncomfortable, in big part due to it implying that a huge portion of people here see gender and/or sex as a binary, and that people on the opposite ends of that binary are fundamentally different from each other due to their sex/gender.

apologies for the long ask, i just really wanted to avoid misunderstandings so i may have rambled a bit more than necessary.

Hi! Thanks for bringing up your concerns. The way I interpreted that question is that anon was curious whether pubic hair affects the sensation on the penetrating partner‘s penis, or whether pubic hair can be a hindrance– for example, acting as a barrier, or adding friction.

The original question was only aimed at people with penises, and I hadn’t planned on posting any variations for different genitals because (from what I’m assuming about anon’s curiosity) the question is so specific in asking about the sensation and/or logistics for a penis navigating around hair. I don’t think it would be helpful or yield any interesting data to post the same poll for people with other genitals.

In this case, I think my error was in not specifying “does a partner’s pubic hair affect the sensation on your penis during penetration?”. That’s the question I think anon was trying to ask, but unfortunately it was more clear in my and anon’s heads and didn’t come across in writing as clearly as I thought I was saying it.

Also, in response to the sentiment that there have been a lot of genital-related polls lately, there have been about 3 in the past 2 weeks, or about 3%. (7 polls per day; 49 polls per week; 98 polls every two weeks.) I understand if it seems like a lot, but the actual saturation is fairly low. I'm saying this not to dismiss you, but in the hopes of reassuring you that this blog is not shifting to become more heavily focused on separating people's genitals.

I got a number of helpful messages about the previous conversation on dyadism. I didn't respond to them due to some things in my personal life that limited my time, but I read them and have them saved as a reminder to myself when writing up polls so that I can continue to make these polls more inclusive of intersex people– I promise those messages weren’t ignored.

#not polls #nsft

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innuendostudios · 3 months

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youtube

New video essay! On the Reverse Gish Gallop - how conservatives can ignore 90% of your argument and still appear to be winning.

If you would like more of this, subscribe to Nebula and/or back me on Patreon!

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re watching a political debate on TV. The conservative candidate has used their opening arguments to dump a truckload of dubious claims on their opponent. You recognize this maneuver: that’s the Gish Gallop! The debater makes point after dubious point, and, if the other debater doesn’t rebut every single one, they will appear to have lost the argument. These points don’t have to be good or hard to disprove, there just has to be a lot of them.

Oh, but what’s this? The liberal candidate seems to have come prepared! That’s new! They succinctly and efficiently dismantle each of their opponent’s arguments, offering a clear rebuttal to every single one. It’s obviously not the first time they’ve heard this particular gallop. So, the conservative’s petard has just fully hoisted them. [“What a hoisting!”] They’ve just lost their own game and have to go on the defensive… right?

Turns out, no! The conservative points to a minor error - maybe the liberal said their program would cost $40 million but is actually estimated to cost 43 - and treats them as an ignorant sap who can’t even count correctly. That is now the subject, everything else has been forgotten, and the liberal is backpedaling.

Wait, you exclaim, how does that work?! The liberal has to rebut each and every point but the conservative takes issue with one and stays in the driver’s seat? Are audiences fooled by this? Are liberals that easily snookered? The answer may shock you!

You’ve just borne witness to The Reverse Gish Gallop, where an entire argument falls apart if any of it can be disputed. These disputes, again, don’t have to be good, they just have to call the airtightness of the argument into question.

A good example is how conservatives obsess over gaffes. (Which, fuckin’... really guys?? [W, Trump]) Some Democrat will be all “conservatives want to shut down post offices as a form of vote suppression; they’re pushing voter ID laws and the post office is where many people get IDs; also we are relying more and more heavily on mail-in voting; they overwhelmingly try to shut down offices in Black and Latine neighborhoods; a lot of services like healthcare and courts still use physical mail by default and there can be serious consequences to getting it late; many elderly people still don’t use email, and, hey, maybe some of them like getting junk mail” “AH BA BA BA THAT’S IT THAT’S YOUR WHOLE LIFE NOW FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER YOU’RE THE ASSHOLE WHO SAID OLD PEOPLE LIKE JUNK MAIL.”

Your mistake was assuming that dishonest people abide by the same rules they impose on everyone else. When I was a teenager, some friends of the family would invite me along when they asked my parents to dinner, because I would play with their five-year-old and let the grown-ups chat in peace. And he’d make up games where we’d bat a balloon back and forth or whatever, and change the rules on the fly when it suited him. Because the rule wasn’t actually “you can only touch the balloon once per turn;” the rule was “Andrew wins.”

The purpose of a Gish Gallop is to establish a narrative not through argument or logic but force and volume. Once established, it takes a lot less effort for them to maintain than for you to establish a new one. If they shake confidence in your argument, the audience will often revert to the previous argument, whether or not that one was ever proven. It’s a not about which story is true, it’s about who sets the parameters for all stories going forward; who got there first. This is not a debate; this is a Zerg Rush. Understand: a dishonest argument is Lego - you haven’t dismantled it until every brick is separated. But an honest rebuttal? An honest rebuttal is Jenga.

#video essay #alt-right playbook #Youtube

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dragonseeds · 2 months

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do you have any thoughts on daenys the dreamer?

extremely fun and obvious play on the cassandra figure. a version where her family not only believes her but venerates her visions and prophecies—like, she saves them and a handful of dragons and, in doing so, the world, but it also curses her bloodline. the thing that once saved them becomes an obsession that consumes them literally in wildfire. the idea that you can be doomed by believing in and actively trying to fulfill a prophecy (aegon v at summerhall, melisandre and stannis) just as easily as others are doomed by their disbelief or their attempts to circumvent fate (cersei echoing my buddy king laius)—like that’s so, so cool to me. i love the ambiguity between fate and choice, the way grrm takes the whole trope apart and plays with all the individual components.

also very interested in the line running from daenys to daenerys, and i always wonder if daenys saw her too and if so, how much of her life daenys saw and was able to contextualize? did she see clear images like melisandre and bran or more metaphorical ones, like jojen or dany in the house of the undying? something like… a dragon with three heads fighting in a frozen wasteland lol?

considering the the loss of female power in house targaryen is so deeply entwined with the dying of the dragons, underneath all of that for me is aemon’s line in affc and the context that follows it:

what were they translating?? were some of the documents in other languages? it couldn’t have all been daenys’ works because aemon says they’ve been wrong for a thousand years. this prophecy has been a motivating factor for the targaryens (and valyrians?) for a thousand years, but i wonder at what point the translation error actually crept in? daenys was valyrian and that would’ve been her primary language—i like to think she would’ve understood the nature of the dragon in a way her male descendents couldn’t. no one ever looked for a girl, but it was always a girl. not men in a patriarchal feudalist society reducing women to their reproductive capabilities (rhaella’s miserable life being one of the most egregious examples of this) and then being surprised when a woman is needed to rebirth the dragons lol.

this got away from me because i think the (deconstruction of the) use of prophecy in asoiaf is fascinating and everything we know about daenys is tied up in that. cutting myself off before i start talking about gender as it relates to this prophecy. beyond that, i’m really not interested in interpretations of daenys where she’s catatonic or broken by what she’s seen any more than i am in interpretations of dany where she goes mad, just because i’m sick of the seeing the general victimization of women in asoiaf taken to such an extreme that they’re defined by it—with whoever suffers most ecstatically being the least problematic to stan, especially when the women in question are from/associated with house targaryen.

#me every time i get an ask: this got away from me ajdjsks #daenys the dreamer #also aemonnnnn 😭#i really need to do a reread bc i couldn’t remember where we find out he says this #also notice me not mentioning rhaegar re: the prophecy obsession #i think he was actually pretty normal about it considering literally everything about his his life from the moment of his birth #asoiaf

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lachiennearoo · 7 months

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How to Make Friends

A more-or-less clear guide on social interactions

Growing up with heavy ADHD and generalized anxiety, it was always a bit hard for me to make friends and socialize. Despite my yearning for friendship, I was always "the quiet one" and "a loner", simply because I didn't know how to approach certain social situations, and it made any friendship I had extremely unstable (except for my sister @vive-le-quebec-flouffi, who was so extroverted and friendly it was literally impossible to escape her clutches of socialization)

As I grew older, I learned through a lot of trial and error what makes a good friendship.

Or, rather... what's the best way for someone to WANT to be your friend (without being superficial or hypocritical.)

Now, obviously, this doesn't work for everyone. But this is what I found helped me the most in social circles (especially online) and I hope it can help others too

LET'S BEGIN!

1 - Be yourself

Now that sounds very cliche and cringe, I know, but hear me out, because my opinion on this is not the same as all those feelgood inspirational movies and ads.

"Being yourself" isn't as simple as it seems. Because after all, what does "self" imply? If someone is, say, a criminal, would "be yourself" mean that they should embrace their sinful side?

No, obviously not.

"Be yourself" is a bit more nuanced, but I'll try to boil it down for you.

It just means "be unashamed of your qualities which you think are flaws". For example, "be yourself" would apply to someone who sees themselves as ugly, or maybe someone with an odd yet unharmful hobby, or a weird sense of fashion, or someone with say a handicap, a speech impediment. "Be yourself" is a sentence for the specific people who have genuine good in them, but are afraid to show it to others because they have been persecuted in the past, or are scared to be. It does NOT mean to accept genuine flaws. "Be yourself" does not include say violent anger issues, an addiction, a recent crime committed, or a generally unpleasant personality. Those are obviously not things to encourage. You can understand they may be a thing that happen to you, and accept it in your life, but that's different from being proud of it or encouraging it.

Speaking of personalities... let's talk about that

2 - Be kind

Now when some people hear that, they think it means "always smile no matter what, always look happy and positive, always agree with everyone just so you don't hurt their feelings, and never cause any drama", like you're Deku in My Hero Academia or Steven Universe in his titular show.

But that's... not quite that.

Obviously, kindness is something you use to help people feel better, to cheer up, and feel happy, and obviously to be kind, you need to have compassion, heart, empathy, and always put yourself in other people's shoes regardless of who they are. But it is not necessarily all-encompassing.

There's a rule that I think anyone learning kindness must learn. It's that sometimes, kindness means to be firm.

Not mean, of course. Not judgmental, not insensitive. Don't insult anyone, don't belittle or patronize anyone or make them feel inferior to you. That's still very rude and that's not what you want.

But what I mean is that sometimes, if you know that a person's actions towards something are wrong, especially if it's towards someone else, you must be able to point it out, and act accordingly. Don't just stand there and agree with them just because you don't want to hurt their feelings. You must still be able to know right from wrong. Kindness just means you won't be an ass about it, it doesn't mean to stay silent.

Hey, that brings me to point three!

3 - Show your own opinions

If there's one thing people hate just as much as meanness, it's those who stand by and do nothing about it.

Regardless of if you agree with them or not, if you say absolutely nothing when genuinely bad behaviour is happening, out of fear of "starting a fight", you are actively making the person who is being attacked feel alone.

I remember myself, when I was bullied in the first two grades of secondary school (11-13 years old for those who don't know) for "being ugly", I was told by my mother (who was friends with other kid's parents) that some of the kids "didn't hate me" and "didn't agree with the bullying". And I asked her "if they don't hate me, why won't they talk to me?" She never managed to answer that one. And it broke my heart, because outside of my sister, I had no one else.

Don't be like that. You may be scared of acting, but you know who would be grateful if you did act? The victims. And isn't their opinion of you much more important than the opinion of someone who acts with hatred and bigotry?

If you see someone suffering injustice, or even just hear someone who has a rather harmful opinion, don't be scared to tell them that you disagree. Obviously don't be an asshole about it, stay civil, but if you voice out your opinion, you will be seen as someone who stays true to their beliefs and is brave enough to stand up for them if the opportunity comes.

There's obviously much more that comes with social life (nonverbal cues, sense of humor, timing and mood), and I don't know everything (I'm just some random québécois girl on the internet). But I hope this was a bit more helpful. I did have fun writing this, at least. So I guess that's better than nothing!

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rkvriki · 1 year

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you spin me up high - lee heeseung (m)

pairing: football team captain!heeseung x slightly bimbo!fem reader

synopsis: No one was surprised when the football star Lee Heeseung started dating the local bimbo, Y/n L/n. They were like a match made in heaven hell, they weren't an official item, but how does Heeseung react when he sees his team rival approach her?

WARNINGS ! mature content (sorry to my minor followers >-< also its my first time writing smut to pls have mercy on me), jealousy, mentions of reader being a little dumb :D, public sex (in the school's bathroom lolz), oral (f receiving), heeseung calls reader a slut once lmao, sex?? they kinda fight, reader is sensitive :(, heeseung is a lil possessive, if there's more tell me pls 😭 grammar errors, proofreading is a painfull process ok? word count: 5.6k (i popped my full smut cherry ok )

A/N: um hello?! guess i wrote smut for the first time djfhdf do i like it? idk, maybe lmao. this is nothing like my blog at all, but this idea wasn't getting out of my head and i kinda just wrote it. thank you bae @dazed-hee for reassuring my insecure ass and thank you @loveywon for giving me energy to write this thing, i love you guys. if its too bad pls dont say anything and pretend it good okay?

You purse your lips as you look in the mirror, watching the way the light pink lipgloss transferred from one lip to another. Smiling at the mirror, you appreciated the final look of the hard work you did on your face and outfit, as you slightly adjusted your top.

You took a lot of pride in your beauty, you were very aware of your looks and you knew everyone who you encountered in your life found you pretty. It is obvious to the public’s eye, it’s an undeniable beauty. You were always one to spend hours and hours to make yourself look the best for the most simple activities, you just never knew when you’ll have a pleasant encounter. If needed, anyone could spot you from a mile away with your (mostly pink) bright and sparkly clothes and the big white bows that held your hair in many ways, adorning it in the prettiest way.

Anyone who didn’t know personally would say you were an airhead and a little bit dumb. It’s not your fault people talk about boring stuff that you know nothing about. The way your big doe eyes stared into the nothingness when you listened to someone talk about complex topics revealed that, in fact, there were no thoughts in that pretty head of yours. People often perceive you as someone unintelligent, when that wasn’t true at all, you are just a tiny bit slow. You consider yourself pretty successful seeing that you were in your dream college studying dentistry. You loved going to classes and socializing with people you knew in college. Making friends wasn’t a problem for you, always being a social butterfly since you were a little girl, but sadly there were girls who were mean to you, which often makes you pout to Heeseung when one of them frowns and tells you off, asking him why were they so mean and he just reassures you that they are jealous of your beauty and the fact you were able to score the hottest guy in college, which was not a lie, to be honest.

You loved Heeseung very much, even if you guys weren’t an official item you didn’t see other people and some girls in your school didn’t take that lightly. Both of you had a reputation for sleeping around but in different ways. Heeseung was known for going to parties and just fucking anyone who had a vagina, but never taking them seriously, only seeing them as one time hook-ups. While you were just known for being a hot bimbo who often liked to thank people for favors in a more fun way than usual, like for example, when Jeongin helped you fix your pc setup and you kissed his dimpled cheek and suddenly you were kissing his dick, it happens sometimes and you were fine with that. You had no shame about your sexuality, you were free to do whatever you wanted and to have sex with whoever you pleased.

Getting up from your seat in front of your big vanity, you walked to where your bunny’s cage was. Daisy was your cute bunny, a gift from a previous relationship. You petted her little head promising her cuddles and snacks when you came back. After greeting her goodbye you grabbed your things for class and made your way out of your apartment as your car keys jiggled in your hand.

Reaching campus, obviously only after getting a muffin from the local cafe, you

sighed getting mentally ready for classes. Smiling to yourself, you composed your posture while manifesting the best day you could ever have, not wanting anything or anyone to ruin the perfect mood you woke up with.

As soon as you walked in the hallway you heard people greet you, which you returned with your sweet toothy smile and a wave. Your sweet vanilla scent filled the area and the heels from your platform shoes could be heard, making people’s heads turn to you.

“Hey y/n, love the skirt!” a girl you recognized from biology class said, as she complimented you, making you smile at her and tell her a high pitched thanks in return. You kept walking as more people greeted you. Popularity wasn’t something you seeked but it was something you had, maybe a consequence of your looks or your bubbly personality, which was something people usually took advantage of. It wasn’t something that bothered you in the beginning, when you were unaware of some girls’ intentions with you when they approached you so suddenly asking to be friends with you, but soon, you realized how you were being used by them so they could get with a guy they wanted or just to try and be as popular as you were. Even so, you kept up the nice and humble personality you always had, hence why you were so known amongst students, always showing availability to help others that sometimes wasn’t given in return, making your big heart break a little.

Looking at the time on your phone, it marked 9:30am and you were relieved to see you had a lot of time until class started. You came early today to spend a little time with Heeseung, since your classes didn’t start until 11am. You made your way to the campus cafeteria that was mostly empty aside from people like you who only had classes later in the morning. You sat at a table that had two seats, since Heeseung would arrive at any moment now, knowing him he probably went to hit the gym before meeting you. You decided to distract yourself by playing games on your phone. As you were doing so, someone walked towards you, making you look up at them. In front of you was one of Heeseng’s teammates that was one year above you, one that he had warned you about, but you being you, still smiled at him.

“Hey, princess. Fancy seeing you here alone.” You cringed at the pet name he gave you that sounded different when it came from Hee’s mouth, but still you kept the smile nonetheless. “Hey, Jihoon! Yeah, it’s nice seeing you too!” You were trying your best not to sound rude, the glint in his eyes didn’t hide his intentions with you.

Flirting with guys for fun is almost a hobby for you, or an old one. Since you started your thing with Heeseung it didn’t happen that much, except in situations where you needed free drinks or discounts at your favorite make up store. Still, you know when to and not to do it and right now, it’s a case where it’s preferable if you don’t do it and it’s making you really nervous. Jihoon had a reputation for stealing other guys’ girls but never in his life did he do it to any of his teammates, especially to Heeseung. He knew it could take his spot in the team away and he worked his ass off to get where he is right now. Besides, everyone knows better than to mess with Heeseung, who was also known for giving good ass beatings when needed to, but at this moment he seemed to forget about it or just didn’t care at all.

Looking behind Jihoon you noticed his friend group seated in a table further from yours, meaning this was probably a planned encounter from their side. Jihoon’s chuckle brought you back to reality, making you look back at him.

“Couldn’t help but notice you look so pretty from afar and even prettier now that i got a closer look.”

“Thanks! I worked really hard on my makeup today.” You answered him looking up at him with your doe eyes, trying to keep up the sweet tone in your voice. Before you and Heeseung started whatever you had going on, Jihoon already claimed you as his “friend” and you did too! In your head the comments he made for you were nothing but nice compliments friends gave each other, but when Heeseung found out about it he didn’t seem happy to know and almost scolded you to stay away from him because boys like him never had good intentions with you. The sound of the cafeteria’s door opening didn’t make Jihoon look back but it made you look, praying it was finally Heeseung, and thankfully your prayers were answered as he walked in looking around, probably trying to find you. You could hear Jihoon’s voice, but you paid him no attention as you saw Heeseung’s face frown when he spotted the man in front of you. Your heart started beating a little faster, as you anticipated the possible interaction between the two men.

“Say how about you and I spend some time alone this Fri-”

Jihoon was quickly cut by the sound of a chair scraping against the ground. He looked to where it came from only to see Heeseung sitting while looking at him with a raised brow. Jihoon stood in his place, obviously not expecting to see your boyfriend, thinking you were gonna be here alone.

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to see here, so might as well make your way out and leave.”

Jihoon opened his mouth to say something but he decided it was best to not say anything for the sake of his football career. As he turned in his heels to walk away, Heeseung got up and grabbed the other man’s shoulder, leaning down to his height and muttering in his ear “I really hope this is the last time I see you talk to her or even come close to it. You and I both know better than letting this happen again, don’t we?” Jihoon’s eye slightly twitched as he shrugged Heeseung’s hand off his shoulder and walked away from where you were.

Heeseung sat back, an angry frown adorned his face. “You took too long!” You said after checking it was already 10am, as you slightly pouted at him while eating the small piece that was left from your muffin. “What did I tell you about Jihoon? I thought I had warned you about him, or did I?” From the way he was talking you could see he was not a little bit happy with the situation but it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t just be rude to him. “It’s not my fault Hee, besides he did nothing, he was just complimenting me!” Heeseung just seemed to get angrier with your answer, making a pout make its way back to your plush lips. “Y/n, how many times do i need to tell you what his intentions are, geez!�� Y/n, he only called you that when he was mad. Why is he getting mad at you when it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to get mad at him, but the way he was acting with you hurt you a little. You felt your eyes water slightly. “Look Heeseung, I know how to protect myself, I don't need you to warn me about Jihoon or anyone, besides he never did anything to me!” You felt bad talking with him like that, but you weren’t a helpless child, you were a little slow but not dumb. Heeseung’s frown deepened after hearing your words, he should be the one getting mad not you at him. “I don't want to keep having this conversation with you. I’m leaving now.” Heeseung grabbed his bag as he got up to leave. Words weren’t coming out of your mouth no matter how many times you opened it to talk and ask him to stay. As the cafeteria’s door slammed close you felt your eyes water with tears as you flinched at the sound. Pouting your lips, you started wondering why he got so mad when you did nothing wrong.

You understood he was being protective of you but it still broke your heart into pieces when his loud voice echoed back in your mind. A single tear fell from your eyes making you quickly but carefully wipe it so as to not ruin your makeup that you put extra effort in. You grabbed your mini mirror from your bag as you checked your face, smiling when it was still intact. You grabbed your stuff as you decided to text your friends to check if it was available since your class wasn’t until 40 minutes.

—-------------------------------

“And he got really mad at me when it wasn’t even my fault!”

Chaewon and you were sitting in the benches in the open area of campus as you were telling her about this morning's events. Chaewon has been your friend since you entered college and both of you seemed to click instantly when you met at the dorm that both of you decided to move out from, getting your own apartments. You both shared everything with each other, she was your ride or die and shopping partner. She was the first one to know when Heeseung slid in your dm’s and she wasn’t so happy about it. Knowing about his reputation, she always told you to be careful afraid you might get hurt but you always reassured her that he was treating you nicely and after a year of going out with him she stopped nagging about the boy. Hearing this story, Chaewon wanted to give a I warned you type of scolding, but she held herself back seeing you teary eyed as you spoke. She let out a sigh as she put down the cereal bar she was eating.

“Look I really want to tell you that I knew this would happen but I won't. He is being a complete asshole and don’t you dare run to him, he is the one who should be apologizing and if he really likes you he will.” She grabbed your fidgeting hands as she kept talking “Besides, as much as it hurts me to admit it, in a whole year Heeseung never did anything to hurt you and even though this doesn’t justify his behavior, he probably was acting out of jealousy I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean to let it out on you.” You sighed as you looked at her slightly smiling. “Yeah I know that but he still hurt me a lot.” You said as you sniffled and held your tears back. “Anyway, class is almost starting so I’ll get going and you should too.” Chaewon said as she got up and grabbed her things, waiting for you to do the same. You bid her goodbye and made your way to where your class was.

—-------------------------------

You had your head propped in your head as you tried to understand what the teacher was saying, but his words were nothing but background noise as you couldn’t stop thinking about Heeseung. You grabbed your pen as you started to take notes, midterms were close and you couldn’t afford to fail. As you were focused on the teacher's explanation you heard your phone buzz in your bag but ignored it and kept focusing on class. You kept writing and the buzz continued making some heads turn into your direction. You muttered an apology as you grabbed your phone to check who was texting you, seeing Heeseung’s name on your screen.

hee💘: meet me in the boy’s bathroom on the 2nd floor

hee💘: now

You kept staring at his texts not knowing what to do. Chaewon’s words were replaying in your head “don’t you dare go back to him”. You know you should ignore him, but just once wouldn’t hurt anyone, besides she doesn’t need to know about this. Putting your phone back in your bag along with the rest of your supplies, you got up quietly to not disturb anyone. You felt your hands shaking in anticipation as you walked down the hallway making your way upstairs to the second floor. Your legs felt wobbly as you felt the tight anxious feeling forming in your chest, not knowing what to expect from this encounter. You reached the second floor and looked around trying to find the way to the bathroom. As you were almost reaching your destination, you saw Heeseung from afar leaning against the wall as he scrolled through his phone. The sound of your steps getting closer made him look up just to find you looking at him with the does he adored so much, making him try his best to not melt right then and there. He put his phone away and stood straight as he looked you up and down, making you gulp, fearing he might say. Heeseung didn’t say anything as pushed you by the wrist, taking you inside the bathroom. You let your things fall to the ground, as he pushed you against the door, his hand reaching behind you to lock the door as the other made its way around your waist.

Your head was feeling fuzzy as your mind was filled with nothing but Heeseung, the electric feeling of his hands caressing your waist made your heart flutter. Your heart started beating faster as you looked in his eyes, pupils dilated and filled with lust. Your hands slowly made their way around his neck as he leaned his head down to your level. Your noses were touching and he had his forehead touching yours, a small movement would make your lips touch, but still, none of you dared to make a move as you stared into each others’ eyes.

You were the first to break eye contact as you slammed your lips against his’, not being able to hold it anymore, the tension in the air was heavy and it was making you feel like you were out of breath. Heeseung kissed you back with as much force as you did, both of your lips moving together, fitting like a puzzle piece falling in the right place. You felt one of Heeseung’s hands move down to your butt, squeezing the plump flesh there, making you gasp. He took it as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, making you leave a quiet moan inside his own mouth. His tongue moved in sync with yours, entwined and fighting for dominance. Your hands started moving as if on their own, sliding down his body until they reached his belt, pulling his hips against your own. You moaned at the feeling of his slightly hardened length, one of your hands leaving its palace from the belt and coming to his front to rub at his boner, making him hiss in your mouth.

The room was filled with sounds of your lips smacking against each other along with the sounds you both let out. Hesseung’s hand left your waist as it slowly moved down your torso towards your tight, squeezing the flesh there. His hand slid to the inside of your thigh, the feeling of his hand making your skin crawl with chills as his hand moved further, touching your clothed core, feeling the outline of your slit. His thumb applied pressure in your clit, just enough to make you pull away from the kiss, gasping for air and turning your head away from him. Heeseung started leaving kisses on your neck, reaching for the spot he knew made you crazy as he left marks along the side of it, making you moan out loud at the feeling of his lips along with his thumb on your clit.

“Already going dumb for me, huh baby?” He said as he smirked against your neck, making you hide your face in his neck in embarrassment. “Nuh-uh, don’t shy away from me now baby. Look at me, baby.” You took your face from his neck, leaning your head back against the door as you looked up at him. Heeseung smiled at you, taking both of his hands to cradle your face against his palms. “You know I love you right?” You nodded, smiling at him, as your face leaned against his touch. “And I love you, Hee, so much.” Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, as he left a breathy chuckle. He connected your lips again, swiping his tongue against your lower lip, making you open your mouth as his tongue made its way to yours. His hands started going inside your top, moving up to your bra, as he started massaging your breasts, you started moaning inside his mouth, muffling the sounds you made.

“Hee, just take my shirt off, please.” You whined against his lips as he chuckled at your eagerness. He pulled away from your lips and pushed your shirt up, taking it off of you with ease. You pulled him to kiss you again, as his hands snaked around your back, unclasping your bra, moving it down your arms and letting it fall freely onto the floor. His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing down to your collarbones, marking the area, leaving trails of spit as he started kissing down to your nipples. His mouth automatically closed around your left nipple, sucking the small nub as his free hand moved to massage and pinch the other. Heeseung’s mouth was making loud wet sounds, mixing in the air with your breathy moans. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for friction, feeling your underwear stick against your core.

“Hee, please, I need more.” You whined as you twisted and turned against the door. “Please what baby, need you to be specific, angel.” He said as he moved his mouth to your other boob, a trail of spit connecting it to your now abused boob from all the biting and sucking. You whined in complaint, your brain already not functioning completely as the only thing you could think about now was how much you needed Heeseung’s cock or fingers. “Need your fingers, please Hee, just give me something.” The desperation in your voice was noticeable and Heeseung spent no time in pulling your skirt down along with your panties, leaving you naked aside from your shoes and pink lacy socks that you loved so much.

Heeseung picked you up and sat you down in one of the toilets inside the stalls. He kneeled down in front of you, putting your legs on his shoulders, giving him a perfect view of your raw and glistening cunt. He licked his lips as he looked at you, seeing the neediness in your eyes. He started kissing the inside of your thighs, alternating between licking and biting the flesh, making you whine at the pleasure the pain gave you. You felt his breath hitting your pussy, making you shiver from the feeling and shudder in anticipation. His thumbs moved to your labia, as they pushed your lips apart, fully exposing you to him.

“Hee, please, I can’t wait anymore, I beg you.” Your whines were getting louder, leaving little to the imagination of anyone who passed by. “Baby I will do anything you want, but I need you to be quiet, can you do that for me?” You nodded, not being able to form coherent words even if you tried.

Heeseung finally let his mouth fall against your pussy, as his lips found their place around your clit, sucking the swollen nub, making you bite your lip to try to hold back your moans, your hands tangled in his hair, needing something to grasp onto. His tongue started making figure 8 in your nub, your toes curling at the pleasure he was giving you, your mouth fell open into an O shape as breathy moans slipped past your lips. Heeseung’s mouth left your cunt, making you whine at the loss, one of his hands making their way to your gaping hole, rubbing your entrance and slipping a finger inside with ease, thrusting it inside and out. You throw your head back in pleasure and let out a broken whine, making Heeseung’s move come to a halt. Your head coming back up as you looked at him, grinding your hips against his fingers, trying to get him to move.

“If you don’t keep it downI’ll just stop right here and take care of myself and make you watch, got it?” His threat made you gulp and nod quickly at his words. You gasped as his finger started moving again at a faster pace. “Please, more, Hee. Give me more!” Your voice came out as a whisper, feeling like if you talked louder your voice would betray you. Heeseung complied with your request as he inserted another finger inside your leaking hole. You bring your hands against your mouth, trying to muffle the noises, as you feel yourself getting closer to your high. Your walls were tightening against his fingers as you felt the knot form in your tummy. Heeseung felt that and he put his mouth back on your clit, sucking the poor nub, aiding you to reach your high faster. One of your hands made their way back in his hair, pulling the hair, feeling the knot almost bursting.

“Hee, I’m so fucking close, don’t stop. Oh, please, don’t stop.” You breathed out as your chest heaved with pleasure. Little high pitched whines started escaping your mouth, getting louder and louder as you got closer. “Fuck, Heeseung, I’m gonna cum! Shit Hee, I’m cum-” Your didn’t even get to finish your sentence as you reached your climax, arching your back away from the toilet, feeling your walls pulse aggressively around Heeseung’s fingers. He moaned as he tasted your cum against his tongue, his fingers still moving, helping you ride out your orgasm. When you got more calm, Heeseung took his fingers out, pushing them inside your mouth making you lick them clean as his mouth licked your pussy clean, making you choke on his fingers when you tried to gasp from overstimulation.

Heeseung pulled back, smirking as he looked at your fucked out state. You pulled him by his neck, slamming your lips against his, tasting yourself in his tongue. You both were moaning in the kiss, you needy more and Heeseung needing to relieve the raging boner that was pushing against his pants, almost painfully. You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and gasping for air. You looked down to his crotch seeing his boner, now more prominent and definitely rock hard. Poor baby held back this hold time, you thought.

“Hee, I want to suck you off.”

“There’s no time for that, classes are almost ending and I just want to feel your pussy right now.”

“But i wan-” Heeseung cut you off by slamming his lips against yours. You instantly fall into his touch, your hands immediately make their way inside his shirt, feeling his abs against your touch. You started to pull his shirt up, making him pull away from you to take it off of him. Your lips connected again, needy moans leaving both of your lips and your noses bumped against each other. Your hands fumbled around his thighs as you finally found his belt and started unbuckling it, undoing his button to finally push his pants down enough to reveal his boxers, both too needy to take them off completely. Your hands palmed and squeezed his cock, making him groan against your lips and roll his hips against your hand. your hands wrapped around the waistband of his underwear to pull it down, freeing his cock making it slap against his abs, staining them with pre cum. You pulled away from him to look at his cock, mouth watering at the sight before you. You never had seen such a pretty cock, curved just the perfect way, with one vein adorning the underside, going from the base to the tip. You raised your hand to wrap around the base, tightening it around his member and moving it up until it reached the tip, watching as a bead of cum spilled from his tip. You started moving your hand up and down his length, making him hiss as he threw his head back.

“Fuck baby, you’re so good for me.” He said as he looked at you, making you smile sweetly at him, feeling fuzzy on the inside as you kept your movements steady. “Shit. Baby, come here, if I don't get inside you right now I’ll go crazy.”

Heeseung picked you up once again, you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist as he pushed you against the wall. Your hands were around his neck as he grabbed his cock and aligned it with your entrance.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Yeah, go on.”

With your consent, Heeseung slid himself inside you with ease, a slick sound echoing in the stall as he buried himself completely inside you, making you open your mouth as a silent moan left your mouth as he put his face on the crook of your neck. He started moving at a slow pace, making you throw your head against the wall from the delicious feeling his cock gave you. His slow movements never faltered, not failing to make you squirm in his hold, but still you needed more.

“Hee, please faster.” You pleaded, needing more from him.

“You’re one needy slut, aren’t you? Always asking for more, mnh?”

Despite his words, Heeseung adjusted your position in his arms before he started slamming his hips against yours. Instantly, you hid your face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sounds that escaped your lips. The sound of his balls hitting your ass echoed in the stall and could possibly be heard by anyone standing close to the door outside. Gasps were leaving your lips, combining with Heeseungs low groans against your own neck. The squelching sound coming from your pussy was like music to Heeseung’s ears, making his dick twitch inside you, causing you to let out a loud moan. Your nails scratched down his back enough to make it bleed a little and your brain was numb from all the pleasure you had received today, feeling grateful for Heeseung and his perfect cock.

Heeseung changes his position slightly, making the tip of his cock hit the spongy spot inside you, making you clench tightly against his throbbing cock.You were bouncing up and down in his length, your tits bouncing right in front of his face, making his lean down to put on of your nipples in his mouth. The feeling of his tip repeatedly hitting that spot along with the friction his pelvis caused against your clit, made you feel the familiar knot form again, making you lean back fully against the wall as Heeseung’s thrusts started getting sloppy, meaning he was also close.

“Heeseung I’m going- fuck”

“I know, baby, me too. Cum with me, baby. Can you do that?” You nodded at his words, feeling yourself clench again. Heeseung’s hand came down to where your bodies met and he started rubbing your clit in fast motions, making you get closer to your high. Your breath started getting quicker with each thrust. Your tits bouncing with every movement you and him made.

“Fuck. Hee, I’m so close, shit!” You said as you felt your clit pulsating. “Shit, come for me baby, fuck.”

You did as he said as you felt yourself cum, gushing your essence all over his cock. Your legs were shaking and your hands were squeezing his biceps as you. His release coming right after yours, feeling his cum paint your walls, the warm liquid starting to form a white ring around his base. Heeseung moaned as you both rode out your highs, hissing from the slight overstimulation. He slowly pulled out of you, watching as your pussy filled with his cum started slowly leaking.

The post climax reality was hitting you and you felt a pang in your chest, reminding yourself that you should be mad and hurt at him. Heeseung felt the shift in your mood, knowing very well why you were feeling like this. Before he did anything, he helped you clean up, grabbing toilet paper to clean your thighs and cunt, making you hiss from how sensitive you still were, which made him whisper a small apology before he kissed your cheek. After you both were clean you picked the clothes scattered across the floor, leaving the stall you checked yourself in the mirror seeing you red and slightly sweaty, ready to make the walk of shame as you heard the bell ring just in time.

Before you could leave Heeseung grabbed your hand making you look at him.

“Um listen, you probably think I'm a jerk right now, which you have all the right to, but I want you to know that I am genuinely sorry. What I did to you was not right, I was acting out of pure jealousy but it doesn’t mean I should have let it out on you. I love you and I am sorry, angel.” He said as he looked down ashamed at himself. You smiled at him, happy that he was able to recognize his mistake. “I forgive you Heeseung, even if you hurt me a lot. What you did left me really sad and hurt, but we both know I love you too much to not forgive you. Now we should get going, everyone is leaving class.” Heeseung nodded at you grinning like an idiot in love as he bent down to your height, giving you a long peck, making you smile in the kiss.

Heeseung grabbed your hand and unlocked the door as you both made your way out. When Heeseung opened the door, he was faced with a student who just wanted to use the bathroom ,ready to push past him until he saw you behind the taller man. You looked up and smiled, waving your manicured hand at him.

“Hi Jihoon!”

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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

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Oh god, I was just giggling so hard at howdy anons ask and your reply about reader letting König wait (sending a smooch to you both ❤️😘). He really deserves to suffer a little like that lol! Just imagining this guy, who likes to see himself as so strong and dominant, especially towards woman, slowly but surely lose his fucking marbles... And all because of that sweet little lady, who has his horniness in a bloody choke hold - not even realising the power she has over him. He's never had to show this much restraint... And he does hold back because, he even more likes to see himself as a gentlemen towards his sweetie (one who will absolutely ruin and wreck her once she let's him off his leash and takes the muzzle off). Poor little Köni.

I can see him letting out this sexual frustration at training for example. He is working these punching bags like absolutely batshit crazy. Destroying gym equipment, because he goes in so hard and has just soooo much pent up energy after every little cuddling session with sweet reader and doesn't know what to do with hit (violently masturbating after being with her hardly helps...). The other operators at the base gym just side eying him and wondering, if he now reached the final state of madness and silently prepare for the explosion that will wipe out all life on earth...

Also: we are really branching out with the toxic König brand here. First the institute, now the book club. I'm loving the growth here. Maby we can establish some kind of co working space next at toxic König headquarters, so we all have a place where we can thirst efficiently and just pump these numbers up even more for Toxic König Inc. (TKI). I can see an involvement in the stock market by next quarter at this growth rate. Maby some Tupperware-esk door to door sales to get more people hooked on to toxic König? (ok, that sounds to much like a cult now...)

Haha this is so crazy, all I wanted was to make Ghost happy, get him laid, perhaps even get him married… but here I am, 6 months later, having this blog and wondering which content warnings to slap on another König post where we discuss his obsession with virgins and their mythical hymen blood 💕

He destroys the punching bag (RIP) and somehow manages to rip the pull up bar from the concrete wall. His deadlifts can be heard all the way to the mess – envious rookies would say König is doing it wrong, that it's a major error in execution, but the veterans know better... This crazy lunatic is simply having trouble with women (again).

But you know what would make König nearly faint?

When sweet innocent reader finally allows his hands roam a bit!

He's allowed to caress her waist as they cuddle, she even lets him bring his huge palm on her tits – it feels like the most erotic thing ever, just to paw those soft breasts over her shirt. And what happens next is that she rolls her hips – König holds his breath – she's actually pressing her ass against his cock. Of course they're still wearing clothes, but her movements are nothing short of sexual.

It makes his brain shut down completely, but soon he's panting in her ear, grinding his groin against the swell of her ass in rhythm with her movements. She doesn't stop him when his hand slowly, tentatively shifts down, then forces its way under the waistband of her pants – ach du Scheiße, it's finally happening… Can this be real?

His fingers slip under her underwear and arrive on her soft mound. He tries to shove his hand further down and into her folds but then – Scheiße – delicate fingers curl around his wrist and pick his hand up from paradise.

"Please… I'm just not ready yet," she explains gently, and the German curses in his mind are loud and foul as König tries to catch his breath and ignore the fact that his boxers are painfully tight and now stained and wet with precum.

"Let me lick your cunt," he offers with a hoarse voice while she's still holding him by the wrist, denying access to her. "Bitte... I just want to have a taste..."

Sweet reader goes tense and turns, looks at the soldier who has a funny accent and weird mannerisms, the soldier who was supposed to be a gentleman, with parted lips and eyes wide from shock.

"König, you can't say things like that…!"

#his head explodes after that #we thought he was a villain but NO this is where his villain arc BEGINS #she drives him to madness #I wonder what happens when König can't play the gentleman anymore 🥹#yandere könig #answered #könig x virgin!reader #könig x virgin reader

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coochiequeens · 10 months

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Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

#Traumatic births #Doctors not listening to women #There's no such thing as a birthzilla #Women aren't too posh to push #Doctors are so posh they schedule cesareans to accommodate their schedules not the mothers #Furness General Hospital Scandal #This is going to hurt #Keep Adam Kay away from women #Women wanting a say in their births are not acting like they want to control the weather #Nottingham maternity scandal #If the baby suffers during a traumatic birth it's the mother who will providing the care after they come home from the hospital

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