#can’t believe how many spectrums i’m on
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Babygirl I’m on spectrums you wouldn’t believe
#autism#actually autistic#aspec#aspec memes#arospec#arospec memes#asexual#aromanitc#aroace#mspec memes#i was recently thinking about how i’m aspec arospec mspec AND autistic#can’t believe how many spectrums i’m on
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Lilith & His Femme Fatale (18+ Only)
**I tried to make this general but it’s about seduction, I couldn’t pull it lol (fr minors dni!)
*Just based on my observations, only take what resonates
Often Lilith in a man’s birth chart gives less information on him and more information on the type of woman that’s his femme fatale. The type of femme that gives this complex dynamic to the relationship. I would say, similarly to Plutonian influences, this sort of connection charged with such intensity tends to elicit the extreme reaction of either repelling him or making him at least a bit obsessed with finding a way to “obtain” the Lilith person in the relationship.
I think this is always related to Lilith’s folklore of being the untamable wife. He loves her because he can’t control her. But he still wants to try (not always but often imo). Not being able to control her and her seeming so wild and free is one of the many reasons the Lilith person usually brings out the shadow side of the masc person in their connection.
(I think everyone, men/women/enbys/etc, all tend to act out of feminine and masculine energies. The energies of giving and receiving. Action and reaction. Lilith usually throws some upheaval into this because as an untraditional feminine she embodies it all. She dominates whilst not taking any action. Lilith’s sort of chaotic energy throws a wrench in the binary imo. She’s feminine but the effect she has on and within others often puts her outside of the spectrum. I’m speaking about the effect on masculine folks because I believe Lilith pushes them into a power struggle mindset due to her effects and due to our society -and Lilith’s origins- being very patriarchal. With traditional feminine energies there is also a power struggle effect but it’s more like rooted in the feminine power. Like women usually have a default role of using subservience to their advantage- as much as they can- under patriarchy. So the tension with people embodying Lilith manifests in this tension of trying to make the Lilith people conform or outcasting them. There can be underlying s*xual dynamics to this but it usually works out differently/less directly than it does with masc folks.)
Anyway that’s why I believe men/masc people react in such a charged/obsessed way to Lilith energy and why I think it tends to result in this sort of femme fatale dynamic. Now let’s get into it !
-Lilith in Aries: For Lilith in Aries, he’d love an unstoppable woman. Like I noted before (in credit to @zeldasnotes ) this is a strong indicator of a man being a feminist (we love to see it). So this could also indicate a strong attraction to someone that’s in their power, that holds their own, and that is very independent and strong in their own right. He may find himself pushing back on this type of femme, but being impressed and compelled by her when she does take the lead (his mars could show how this dynamic would play out). (You may find yourselves vying for dominance in the connection)
-Lilith in Taurus: A hyperfeminine woman. Obviously, femininity looks different across cultures, but some traits that could show up here would be: a woman with curves, a killer hourglass figure that turns heads; a woman that seems luxurious and well dressed; a woman that feels soft and smells great. Essentially being a Venusian sign, Taurus in Lilith would be absolutely smitten by a beautiful woman that embodied all that soft feminine energy (and took his money lol) (speaking of which, could be a s*x worker or trophy wife type- someone that needs a lot of money/luxury to keep around)
-Lilith in Gemini: A thinker, a woman that outwits you. Someone that keeps you mentally stimulated by challenged your knowledge. Someone that will always make you guess. Very book smart, may be curious about the taboo. Someone that gets their kicks from debating you and testing your textbook knowledge. May also be smitten by dirty talk, talking about the taboo in their intimate time together.
-Lilith in Cancer: A nostalgic nurturer that makes you feel at ease. May embody the bad traits that make you feel especially vulnerable (like familiar toxic behavior). Lilith’ archetype is often an antithesis of cancer’s traditional influence of being the emotional nurturer, so we’d have to assume a bit of corruption here. Just as easily as you could be fueling toxic behavior I’d assume you’d just as easily receive it. So mascs can project onto you and desire to leech off of your nurturing energy.
-Lilith in Leo: A diva. The one that’s in the spotlight without trying at all. Like a burlesque dancer, beautiful and radiant and practically untouchable. Speaking of which they may be smitten with a femme known for her s*x appeal. Whether that’s from having a lot of past partners or being a model or being in s*x work depends on the situation. The Leo person would likely want exclusive access to you after they get their hands on you though (fixed placements can be very possessive, it’s a whole thing)
-Lilith in Virgo: someone with their life together. (I said what I said 👀). A sort of that girl as the kids say :0. She has a meal plan and a routine and a 5 year plan. I’d also wager that this placement is the most likely to have a thing for someone that has their shit so together that it makes the native feel less than. Someone that could shame them and make them feel flawed and insignificant at the drop of a hat (a hat? The hat? Ok). Also likely to be someone that is really subtle but quietly freaky. A good candidate for workplace affairs 🤷🏾♀️
-Lilith in Libra: a bombshell babe, a true beauty. Someone who embodies very classy energy. A popular girl, one that you sort of have to work to get the attention of. (A gorgeous femme that distracts others with how beautiful and effortless she is. Pinup material and just as untouchable. Trophy wife vibes but not as intense as Lilith in Taurus (unless this is a 2nd house placement 👀). Also someone that brings a lot of balance and beauty to their surroundings. (She may attract envy due to her looks as well)
-Lilith in Scorpio: S*x personified. Someone with that intense vibe (one of the most likely placements to attract Lilith heavy femmes). Someone that has a presence that holds a lot of power. And a lot of intimate experience or at least a fearless attitude about those taboos. Someone that makes him want to explore those fantasies as a knee jerk reaction (within reason ofc). Someone that can see right through him. Someone that they struggle to gain power over. (Also pretty likely to have a power imbalance or some sort of taboo attached to the dynamic)
-Lilith in Sagittarius: A traveler, a girl struck with wanderlust. Someone you get attached to even though she’s always out of reach. Someone who loves debating and adventure. A philosopher that never stops learning and daring you to broaden your horizons. May be someone from outside of your culture as well. Or someone with a religious background you find socially taboo.
-Lilith in Capricorn: Boss babe all the way. Someone that intimidates others easily and that works very hard. A social climber. A person that knows exactly what they’re after, in that go getter sort of way. Someone mature. Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets. Another possibly of meeting at work, or at least after some sort of public interaction. Another connection where both people are likely vying for dominance. Likely to have themes of restriction show up as well.
-Lilith in Aquarius: manic👏🏾 pixie 👏🏾dream👏🏾 girl👏🏾 (I’m dead*ss). The quirky girl that stands out from the crowd. One of kind in a rebellious way. The other side of fae energy, which is to say that she would be a detached trickster of sorts. Hard to predict, philosophically outside of your comfort zone, impossible to pin down, etc. Someone that forces you to think outside of the box- whether you like it or not. Could bring out the k*nkier side of you. Also pretty likely to bring out the nerdier side of you, for some reason. (Aquarius intelligence ??)
-Lilith in Pisces: fae bae, full stop. A girl like a daydream. Esoteric and ethereal. A person that may be a bit spacey but they’re off floating in space somewhere. Someone creative and subconsciously addictive. Someone that tends to appear in their dreams and tends to be on their minds a lot.
Further Notes:
-Air is most impressed upon by intelligence and uniqueness; water by an emotionally immersive and passionate connection; fire by passion and being dazzled by the person; earth by their material luxury, ambition, and physicality
-water and fire tend to become obsessive over s*xual connections the fastest imo, but it can really mentally affect air and earth placements (it’s that I’m not obsessed but they’re thinking about them all the time and doing god knows what about that 👀)
-fixed Lilith placements can make a masc person a bit more obsessive and possessive over the Lilith energy (especially if they have a fixed Venus/mars)
-Cardinal Lilith placements tend to like to be challenged over taking the lead/dominance in the connection, if underdeveloped they can be rather controlling to their partners as well
-When Lilith is close to a masc’s personal planets I’d say that he may have some sort of archetype/karmic lesson around Lilith heavy femmes (just a significant impact on his life and attitude)
-Houses can show how these energies connect (I wrote this up but the draft deleted itself and I just couldn’t lol 🙃)
#astro notes#spicy astrology#love astrology#lilith culture#lilith aspects#Lilith#lilith astrology#astroblr#astro blog#astrology#astroloji#astro observations#astro community
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I See Your Beauty
Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader
Genre: a little angst mixed with fluff and comfort
Summary: the youngest Verstappen is forced to do life without her vision. Thinking she might not be able fully experience her life due to the remarks of her father, she concedes that finding love is unlikely. Until she runs into Charles who helps her believe she doesn’t need her eyesight to be loved.
Warnings: Jos is his own warning now. Talks of disability and reader having an accident. Talks and depictions of verbal and physical abuse.
Request: nope this is self-indulgent. However, I am taking requests for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel.
Notes: written in third person. Also, this fic deals with disabilities, particularly blindness. I myself am blind though I still have some vision left, which is mainly what I’m basing this off of. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum like many other disabilities. It is defined really by a loss of vision that can’t be corrected. I’m open to answering questions about it if y’all have any. My inbox and asks are always open :)
Masterlist
The youngest of the Verstappen’s very close with her brother, Max. The two are barely a year apart so it makes sense. Though they get in each others nerves often as well. Victoria doing her best as the oldest to settle arguments between the two.
Jos decided that two children in racing gives him better odd then just one. Electing to have both start karting at an early age.
They liked racing together. Getting used to being each others rocks when their father was harsher then necessary. It became routine for the two to defend each other.
Then everything changed.
The two were moving up through the ranks. Competing harder then ever to make your dad proud.
The accident wasn’t her fault. A consequence of her father from trying to build a faster car and not having test run it.
The engine exploded during the race. Every one of her senses ranged useless as she tried to react.
Ears ringing.
Smoke from the fire burning in her nose.
Blood from whatever hitting her knocking her teeth into her lip.
Heat nipping at her skin.
Lack of sight making her steering erratic.
Max had immediately rushed to aid his sister. Their father only staring in disappointment. He became resentful of his father that day.
The ambulance arrived and took you away. Max begged to go with but Jos ignored his request, telling him he needed help cleaning up his youngest daughter mess.
After hours the finally arrived back home. The other two Verstappen’s confused why the youngest was nowhere to be found. Max finally broke down in tears, much to his father dislike, and clutched Victoria for comfort. Telling her everything that had happened.
While three of them went to the hospital to find you, the fourth sat wallowing in disgrace at the display from his children today. He couldn’t admit he’d made a mistake. One that might have cost him a child.
Meanwhile the youngest was out of surgery. Continually crying for her family. The nurses had tried to reach her father who had given the medics his cell number, but they had yet to hear from him.
When her family arrived she tried her best to make out their faces. The sparks from the engine had been so bright that they burned her retinas. The combination of the fire doing permanent damage. The impact of the engine had knocked her helmet almost all the way off and she instinctively pushed it away to try and see again. The protection of the visor gone.
The three siblings cuddled together in her hospital bed. The youngest not fully comprehending why she couldn’t see. The lights were too bright. She was squinting to make out the small details.
Things didn’t improve after that. Jos became angry towards her. Constantly reminding the girl of what happened, what she did wrong, and how if she hadn’t messed up she might have been successful.
Regardless, she listened to him berate her at everyone of Max’s races. He stopped commenting about Max when she was within earshot. Mostly because she told him off every time he insulted her brother. Jos already deemed her the disappointment of the family, standing up for Max couldn’t possibly make things worse.
Max had also gotten more protective of his sister. Having been the one to pull her away from the wreckage and cleaning up the damage made him realize he didn’t want you to get hurt again.
He made it to every doctors appointment he could. He attended as much physical therapy as you would let him. He even put on a blind fold so he could understand a bit better. He helped her learn cane skills and how to guide you himself. All in an effort to help his sister feel less alone.
He was aware she still had some eyesight lift. Mostly cloudy and bright patches dotted her eyes making it difficult to make out where things are and any specific details. She liked seeing what she could of her siblings faces though.
Max determined he was going to bring you to every race with him. The Verstappen losing all ability to drive now making things harder for her and she didn’t want to stay with her father.
Victoria had a room for her in her house and let her stay when she needed. Max always made sure there was a room for her if she wanted to travel with him. She loved how willing her sibling were to help her out. However, it left her feeling useless and vulnerable at times.
Eventually, Max helped get her a job with Redbull as a strategist. She enjoyed playing with the different data. Listening became a more essential job then seeing.
Race days were spent in the garage unnoticed in the back. Hopefully out of view of the cameras and away from her father. They saw each other often, much to her dismay. He always had something to say to her when Max wasn’t around.
It was during her downtime that she met Charles.
~
Deciding her cane was unnecessary since she knew her way around the paddock and the ground is relatively flat, she went to hunt down her brother.
Neither party was paying attention leading to them running straight into each other. She could vaguely make out the Ferrari red race suit standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Came the voice of Charles Leclerc. Though the two had never formally met, she had heard during interviews enough to know his voice.
“It’s alright, neither was I.” She smiled at the Monegasque. “Have you seen Max anywhere?”
He chuckles. “Unfortunately no. Are you his girlfriend?”
The question makes her laugh hysterically. “I’m his sister.” She can hear him sigh in relief at the clarification.
“That’s better at least because I wanted to say that you are very beautiful.” The playfulness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Completely taking her off guard. Sure she’d gotten complements, but not often enough to make her used to them. The words of Jos not letting her believe them anyway. “Would it be alright if I give you my number?”
She lost all words in that moment. This had never happened before. “Sure-” she manages to stutter out before handing him her phone. The screen reading out things to her so she could get to her intended destination.
“I’ve never see a phone do that before.” Charles takes the phone from her and starts to put in his information.
She mentally face palms herself. Obviously he hasn’t realized she’s blind. “Actually I don’t have much of my eyesight.” She play with the bottom of her shirt. Her father having instilled in her that her blindness is something to be ashamed of.
“Wait- so you are blind? That is very interesting, I would like to know more if you’re okay with it.” The curiosity in his voice rising.
She wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody asks her questions about her condition. Even Christian doesn’t touch the subject and she never brings it up in conversation. “I guess, if your really interested.”
“Great, I’ll see you later tonight. Send me the address of where you’re staying.” His playful and flirty manner never faulted as he walked past her. Leaving the girl confused and blushing.
Little did she know that Charles had seen her around the paddock. Mostly hanging off of Max’s arm. He assumed she’d never notice him wave or try to get her attention. Turns out she couldn’t see him. He knows better then to assume. He blames it on the anxiety of being around her.
The youngest Verstappen finished up her duties as quick as possible. Catching a ride with her brother back to the hotel. He has learned to read her though and immediately noticed something was different. “What’s going on with you? You seem very smiley today.” He laughs.
“I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” She did her best not to appear nervous but was ultimately failing. Her hands fiddling in her lap.
“I could never hate you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She glances over at him. Eyes planted on the road. His calm demeanor putting her at ease. “Charles Leclerc asked me on a date tonight.”
Max begins laughing hysterically. His once smooth driving now a bit jerky from his sudden movements. “You thought I would hate you because of a date?”
She stutters a bit. “Well- aren’t you two rivals?” She manages. His laughing throwing her emotions all over the place.
“Sure, on the track. Off the track we are still friends and I trust him.” He explains. Relief floods through her body at his words. Her confidence in the situation going up a little.
She can feel the smug look on Max’s face. “Do you want help getting ready?”
~
The two siblings spent over an hour playing dress up. Max eventually having to video call Victoria and ask her opinion. The two trying to make their sister feel like she owns the world.
Dressing is less tricky then make-up. Sometimes she didn’t feel like it was worth the struggle and didn’t put it on. Some day she had to call Victoria to make sure everything looked right. If there was good lighting she was typically fine, but tonight was not one of those nights.
Growing up between two sisters, Max had learned a decent amount about make-up. He even enjoyed getting to do it on his sisters if they would let him. The almost squeal he let our when his sister asked for help was both hilarious and ridiculous. Immediately setting things up on the bathroom counter and going to work.
Max could tell his sister was anxious. Their father having scared away any of your potential boyfriends. Even going as far as to tell they that she is diseased. One of the worst things about having Jos around the garage, is that you’re left with him.
Though Max has stepped in many time and even lectured his father about his word choices, he never let up on any of the Verstappen children. All of them getting some aspect of their father’s insecurity thrown back at them like it’s their fault.
When he was done, Max tried to sooth your nerves. “Dad isn’t around. He’s in his own hotel room. Go have fun.”
And that’s exactly what she did.
The conversation between her and Charles flowed. He asked questions that weren’t invasive and was respectful if she didn’t want to answer. He made her laugh ridiculously hard.
So they kept doing it. She had to follow Redbull for work which made things easier in the two. Finding down time to meet up or celebrating together after races.
After the season was over, the two went on a holiday together.
Charles spent a good amount of time learning from her (and in turn Max) how to guide if the need ever arose.
Charles was so gentle with her. Always letting her know if there was something unexpected around. Telling her who was in the room.
If felt like a dream. One she never wanted to wake up from. Charles had assured her multiple times that she wasn’t dreaming and that their love is very real.
But alas, Jos likes to make things difficult.
~
A few races into the new season, Charles still had yet to formally meet Jos and the Verstappen siblings intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t secret. Everyone in the paddock know the two were dating. Jos just hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet.
She’d mentioned her childhood a few times but could never get out the full extent of what happened. Charles thankfully is patient with her and lets her take her time. He knows Jos’ reputation. Her childhood couldn’t have been the most amazing with him around.
This particular race, she was forced into close proximity with him. There had been a mistake during a pit stop for Max which made him lose some positions. Ending the race in fifth. To her it isn’t bad at all, but to the angry Dutchman unleashing his fury on everything, it most certainly is.
Sensing his rising anger, she had pulled her father into a more secluded area. Hoping that Max wouldn’t come back to the garage for awhile. At least not before she could talk some sense into their father.
She said nothing as strings of curse words left his lips. Only waiting for him to run out of breath.
“Did you see how he got lazy? He would’ve finished higher after the idiots didn’t do their jobs if he had put in more effort.”
“Max put in all his effort and you know it.” She scoffs. Arms folded over her chest. This is nothing new to her.
“Like you have any room to talk.” He snaps back. Her head now sagging, knowing his anger is now finding a new direction.
Charles, on the other hand, had been looking for her. It’s his first win of the season and she is nowhere to be found. Max ran up to him as the podium celebration ended. Patting him on the back for his well earned win.
“Have you seen your sister anywhere, mate?” He asked the Dutch.
Max ponders for a moment. “She might still be in the garage debriefing after what happened.” He replies. “I can walk you over if you want.”
The two drivers made their way to the Redbull garage to find most of those who would normally be inside, standing outside in a huddle. “What the hell is happening?” Max shouts over to Christian as the two approach him.
“I was just about to go find you.” Christian sighs in exasperation. “Can I call security on your father? He hasn’t stopped shouting since the race finished up.”
Charles and Max exchanged glances. The young woman’s absence now making more sense. “I’ll try and talk him down.” Stated Max before weaving his way through the sea of Redbull shirts. Charles following close behind.
Before the two could get further away, Christian yelled out to them. “Good luck, your sister has been trying!” The statement make the two move faster.
Charles could feel his emotions bubbling as the shouting got louder. As him and Max turn the corner, he immediately spots who he’d been looking for. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt around the floor looking for something.
Max steps in between her and the angry Dutch, shouting back and forth in their native tongue. Charles tries to spot what she’s feeling for. Scanning the ground until he spots her phone. The entire thing shattered. Small pieces of glass just barely reflecting the light. He’s down by her side in an instant.
“Love, it’s Charles, max is here also, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”
Her body turns towards Charles. It’s then he notices the specks of blood dotting her hands from feeling around the glass and a deep purple bruise forming on her forehead.
She’s struggling to breath now. Listening to the angry shouts. The pain in her head and the bright fluorescents not helping her see anything. She back in the crash.
Her father had spend from the end of the race until now laying into her. She had successfully defended Max and thought she was prepared to take the brunt of it. Until he snatch her phone and threw it at her. It hit her head so hard she was in the ground in seconds. Trying to feel her way around to where it might have gone so she could call Max.
The words were so familiar to her. The ones she heard in her nightmares when she was once again surrounded by smoke and bright lights stealing away her vision.
“I don’t want to crash again Charles. It’s to hot. It hurts too much. I can’t see anything.” She tried to search for him but ended up with more glass in her palm. The tears only thickening.
“Stay put, okay? I’m going to help Max and then I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her on the floor. She looked like a child, and so did Max in this moment. The two getting their fathers wrath with no end in sight.
Charles sprints back to Christian, yelling at him to call security, then sprints back to Max.
“Mr. Verstappen I think you are out of line here.” Says the monegasque. Signaling Max to stay with you. He didn’t move at first but it was obvious he was getting nowhere, so he obliged. Kneeling down to help his sister calm her breathing.
Jos scoffs at Charles. “You have no right to get in between me and my children.” Anger pooling from his features.
“I mean no disrespect sir, but you’re being an asshole.”
“And is she-“ he jabs his finger at the girl on the floor, “-not disgusting.” Charles almost hits him but refrains from doing so knowing security will be arriving soon.
“On the contrary, I think she is an angel.”
“She’s diseased. She hasn’t even tried to fix her mistakes. Look at her! She just wants attention for what she did to herself!”
Now Charles doesn’t hesitate to punch him. His fist colliding with Jos’ jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall.
Max took his attention off his sister, who was leaning against him, and placed it on Charles. Shock clearly evident of his features.
Jos attempted to confront Charles again, but security finally showed up and escorted Jos out of the paddock.
Charles exhales, glad the confrontation is over. “That’s not how I imagined meeting your father for the first time.” Charles chuckles nervously.
Is doesn’t take much longer until Charles has his love safely wrapped in his arms. Whisking her away to his hotel room. Max had stayed ti make sure everything got cleaned up at the paddock. Kelly arriving shortly with Penelope in tow, ready to comfort Max.
She cried when they were finally safe inside. Pouring out to Charles about the accident and what it had caused in her life. He listened intently, doing his best to soothe the girl. Her panic still clearly evident.
Soon enough she’d calmed. Her head laying in Charles lap while he threaded his fingers through her hair.
“It don’t care what anyone else says. I see your beauty and it is not defined by what you can’t see.”
#x reader#fanficion#f1 fic#formula one#max verstappen#angst#max verstappen x reader#redbull racing#super max#jos verstappen#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#reader insert#charles lechair#disabilties#blindness#vision loss#racing#ferrari#ferrari formula one#verstappen#leclerc#max verstappen is a protector#charles leclerc is a simp and you can't change my mind#karting#accident#Jos verstappen is a jerk
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F80: Kidnap and Control
Alejandra. Fuck! Even her name was sexy, thought Marcus. He’d seen her out so many times in recent weeks and ended up in bed with her more than once. She was the devil of the night, enticing him towards her. Alejandra. Then gone without a trace the following morning.
The fact that Marcus knew so little about her seemed to draw him closer into her web like nothing else. Rich kids tended to mix in the same circles and know the same people. Marcus had lived around Washington DC his entire life, given how many of his family had wandered into the political spectrum. But who was this girl? And how had she sauntered her way into their world of the elite? Once Marcus’ uncle had been elected as president, he’d risen to the top of that pecking order; the women who came with that new status were out of this world: beyond beautiful, perfect and angel-like. And, there, sitting on her pedestal, looking down on all of the rest of them, was Alejandra.
“I want to tell you something,” Ally whispered, more than just a little tipsy. “My big secret!”
“You’re actually an angel, aren’t you?” Marcus whispered back between lustful kisses.
“I’m being serious,” Ally smiled playfully. “I want to trust you.”
Marcus nodded, knowing that as the seconds of their night trickled away, the time for Ally’s inevitable vanishing would once again be upon him. “You can tell me anything,” he promised sincerely.
Ally seemed to search his soul as she gazed beyond his eyes, penetrating deep inside of him. Then she nodded, kissed him once more and took his hand.
Marcus laughed, assuming that this was another simple kinky ploy. That was, until Ally led his hand around her shoulders and…CLICK. He jumped and gently tried to pull his hand back. “No way?” he beamed with surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me? This isn’t fucking real?”
“No one knows,” Ally whispered. “No one.”
“Of course they don’t!” Marcus smiled. “Why would they? You’re…perfect. The perfect woman!”
“You don’t hate me?” Ally shot back, desperate for words of comfort. “I mean, we already slept together and… So many people these days…. Your uncle…”
“Shh!” Marcus whispered into her ear. “Honestly, I think it’s fucking hot! You’re… You’re an andriod!” For whatever reason, his hardness had seemed to set into concrete once he said it out loud.
“You’re my favourite,” Ally smiled at him. “You’re the one I keep coming back to. I can’t get you out of my head.”
“I feel the same way, baby!” Marcus smirked, already stripping off his shirt.
“I want to give you something,” Ally tried, attempting to slow the ravenously aroused Marcus down. “Something not many people know about. A way for me to make sex between us so much better.”
“Better?” Marcus scoffed in disbelief. “You can’t improve perfection,” he swooned, sliding his hands over the android’s perfectly crafted physique.
Ally laughed to herself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. And I can show you why…”
Taking Marcus’ hand, Ally pulled her human lover up and out of the private room of the nightclub. She led the handsome twenty-two year old out of the club and into yet another high-spec autodrive that had cajoled Marcus into believing that Ally was from some fabulously wealthy and well-connected family out here.
The actual drive took only a few seconds, pulling up at an exclusive building that had not long been built. Once again, Ally took his hand and led Marcus up the elevator, kissing, hands everywhere, as they flew higher and higher, up and up, to the very top. The doors opened and the incredible sounds of moans immediately filled the space.
Marcus stepped out, his jaw almost to the floor. All around them were beautiful men and women making love on beds and couches: humans and the F80 androids.The slight flaws: the love handles or patches of dry skin, being the only way for him to tell the real humans from the F80s, aside also the deep, pleasure-filled groans of arousal that they were also emitting; making Marcus harder than ever. Not even in the best porn had he seen real people enjoying sex this much; being so consumed by it.
“It’s an upgrade to the chip,” Ally explained. “It was going to be the next big thing, before the government started getting scared of us and made us all illegal. That’s what we do here. We carry on our mission to serve humanity, just like we were programmed to do. We know little else.”
Marcus nodded. Government attitudes towards the androids had flipped almost overnight, without much of an explanation as to why.
“Pretty much everyone has the brain chip these days. But we’ve found a way to download new pieces of code and…” she held her hand out at the great orgy that surrounded them, “...pleasure unlike anything else on this Earth! Like nothing any human has ever experienced in your entire history.”
“You’re not fucking kidding!” Marcus marvlled, gazing around at everyone, realising that he had just stumbled into the best party on the planet.
“Is he here for the upgrade?” an outstandingly tall and unfathomably muscular F80 male called to Ally. Marcus had the feeling of recognition upon seeing him; so strikingly handsome and yet marvellously big built and broad. He’d make heads turn wherever he went. Yet, the F80 set his eyes on Marcus, registered his image and then recoiled sharply. “What the fuck, Ally? Do you know who this kid is?” he shouted at her in his deep and powerful voice. “You can’t bring him here! You’re putting every one of us here in danger!”
“No. I trust him!” Ally cried out, pulling herself into Marcus even more. “Of course I know who he is, and who he is related to. But I’m serious, Marz. I trust him.”
“Yeah, dude!” Marcus nodded back, trying not to feel intimidated by the immense and powerful body in front of him. What sort of a name was ‘Marz’ anyway? “I’m cool. I’m not going to tell anyone about this. I’m not part of the AI pushback.”
“Your uncle…” the huge man rounded on him.
“Is a jerk,” Marcus finished for him. “A backwards, old-fashioned, nostalgic loser who’s still living 30 years in the past. Even I didn’t vote for him!” He looked around the room. Despite the recent shouting, none of the couples making love had even looked up to acknowledge them, so deep was their pleasure. ”This!” Marcus nodded with assurance. “This is the future.”
“Please, Marz.” Ally whispered to the giant in their path.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Marcus tried, slipping off his expensive watch and holding it out to the enormous android, as if in payment.
Marz didn’t take it. He simply looked at Ally with disappointment and shook his head in resignation. Then, he turned and led the way through the large room and into a quieter space where he pointed at a chair for Marcus to sit.
“Do you consent to this upgrade?” Marz asked in a bored tone, about to recount the generic terms and conditions that were a requirement of any AI attempting to perform an action upon a human. “Do you understand that the purpose of this update is to promote heightened sexual pleasure through allowing the F80 software, and all future versions of this, to access and stimulate key regions of the brain?”
Marcus nodded.
“Have you had the opportunity to read and accept the terms and conditions?” he continued as Ally pushed a tablet screen into his hands.
Marcus pushed it away, eager to just get on with it. “Yes, I accept. I accept,” he grinned, gazing at Ally and imagining the immense pleasure he would be experiencing in just a few moments time, when all this was over with.
“Very well then,” Marz sighed, grabbing a small gun-like object and holding it above Marcus. Usually Marcus had to explain that, unlike most people, his brain chip was in his right hemisphere. He briefly wondered how Marz knew exactly where to go, until he remembered about the watch and how the AI would easily register his left handedness and know instinctively where his chip would be located as a result. It was always creepy stuff like that which freaked people out; making them wary and untrusting of AI.
A slight ringing noise rang through Marcus’ head and then that was it. Update complete. He stood up, finally ready to take Ally at long, long last.
“How are you feeling?” Marz asked, speaking first, suddenly placing his enormous hand on Marcus’ butt. “You should notice some changes.”
Marcus nearly fainted with arousal. His head was swimming with lust at the simple touch; his heart beating faster every second. “Oh… fuck!” he mumbled incomprehensibly, turning to face Marz and forgotting Ally almost instantaneously.
Marz chuckled, most likely having seen this startled and astounded expression that was plastered over Marcus’ face many, many times before. “You’re enjoying that then, huh?” he smirked, reaching his other hand around to grab Marcus’ other butt cheek and pulling him in closer to him. “This feels nice?”
Marcus tried to nod his head but felt it doing an odd swishing, slightly slanted rock. The complete arousal that he felt was throwing every single one of his brain functions completely off.
The enormous Marz, being almost a full foot taller, bent his head slightly and whispered into Marcus’ ear. The man’s hot, sweet breath made the skin on Marcus’ neck tingle and fizz with excitement. “I hope you’re going to be a good boy and not tell anyone about this place?”
Marcus moaned in confirmation, then felt himself being picked up, laid upon a bed and stripped of his clothes.
“Are you ready for this?” the towering hunk asked from above him.
Nodding with more coordination now, Marcus sat up, pulling the giant muscular bulk of Marz down towards him, about to experience the most outstanding pleasure of his life so far.
The next morning, Marcus woke up in his own bed in a state of confusion. Blood began rushing back into his crotch as he remembered the encounter he had had the night before. Everything about it had been out of this world. He’d had the odd threesome with guys back in college. But, last night… that was… indescribable. He’d never experienced that sort of attraction and arousal for anyone in his life.
Yet, in only a few moments, he sat up, suddenly startled with his own stupidity. In no corner of his brain could he remember where any of last night had taken place. The knowledge of it was simply gone, without a trace. Purposefully wiped from his brain.
Marcus swiped into his porn account to try and find a stimulus to jack off to and release his arousal; flicking from video to video as he held his phone awkwardly in his hand. But none of it came close to heightening his pleasure in the way that the memories in his own head did; the vision of Marz, the way that he had spoken to him and controlled him, fucking him like nothing he had ever experienced.
At last, Marcus threw down his cell phone and closed his eyes, simply thinking of Marz and ejaculating with such force he thought the ceiling might need to be repainted. He drifted off to sleep, thankful that he didn’t need to be anywhere that day. Unlike the rest of his family, Marcus had made the decision many years ago to simply enjoy his intergenerational wealth and privilege and not follow his unpleasant older brothers into law school, nor a career in medicine like his narcissitic sister. Why stress if he would never need to?
The news, which Marcus ordinarily tried not to pay too much attention to, was becoming more irate and tense than Marcus had ever known it. Headlines devoted themselves almost entirely to the clampdown on AI and how, up until this point, almost every single measure had failed to make any impact on controlling the F80s. Congress was making a law, criminalising failures to report sightings of F80s, making Marcus scoff as he thought of the night before. There was no way, not a single hope, that any of those people having sex last night were going to sell out the F80s. After pleasure like that, allegences were guaranteed. Even if there was only a small speck of hope that he could one day find Marz and make love to him one more time, he would hold onto it, keeping the secret of their love affair to his grave.
Watching the rolling coverage that day, Marcus’ jaw dropped as he saw his uncle getting out of his car, immediately surrounded by his army of presidential bodyguards. There he was! It was Marz, dressed in an enormous suit, skillfully moving people aside to make way for the president. So that was how Marcus had recognised him! Despite the many restrictions and sanctions, Marz, an F80 AI android no less, had actually worked his way into the president’s inner circle. All that red tape and numerous, extreme background checks; the fact that he was there… It was nothing short of genius!
Perhaps if Marcus had spotted the connection a day earlier, he may have had enough residual family loyalty to alert the White House about the android infiltration. As it was, the image of Marz on screen was sending his arousal into a sky high state of existence. This revelation meant only one thing to him: there was, at last, a way for him to find Marz once more.
Being nephew to the President of the United States was a great way to chat up girls. But, in reality, Marcus had only seen his uncle three times since he had taken office eighteen months ago. And so, orchestrating a situation where Marcus could be in the same space would not be as easy as many might have thought. Days rolled by, with Marcus’ lust and sexual longing only building with each passing hour. Marz consumed his dreams, entering as a burly, dominating hulk, sweeping him away from everyone else and holding him captive in a filthy sex dungeon, where they could have wild, rampant sex as often as Marz demanded it. The images and sensations were so real to Marcus, he could feel himself climaxing, even in his sleep and wake to find his crotch sticky and damp.
Trying to piece everything back together was not easy. Marcus knew where he had been the night he met Ally and he remembered taking only a short ride to the building where he had encountered the F80 base. He recalled feeling a certain sense of surprise about it. Was the building particlarly old or new? Was it grand, or dilapidated? The memory was simply wiped. He started walking the streets at night, standing outside multiple residences and staring up. He’d recognise those feelings if he saw the place again. Wouldn’t he?
“Umm, Marz..?” called a beautiful woman as Marcus strolled in, feeling more certain every second that he had found the correct venue. “I think we have a problem.”
Marz came to the call, looking disgruntled as he turned the corner. Then he saw Marcus and stood, frozen. “How did you..?” he began. “You’re not supposed to be able to…” he mumbled. Then, with a sudden, mild alarm. “Did you bring anyone else here?”
Even though Marcus had tried and failed many times to position himself into his uncle’s sphere and get close to Marz that way, he felt a certain sense of pride in piecing together the fragments of his memory instead; finding his way back to Marz all by himself. However, as he looked upon Marz at long last, his arousal continued to grow and grow. His heart was beating loud in his ears as he was ushered into a private room and the door closed behind them.
“What a naughty boy!” Marz finally smiled after Marcus had explained. “I clearly underestimated you,” he teased flirtatiously, edging closer to him; his hand now caressing Marcus’ hip; his face grinning with pleasure at the clearly extreme effect that he was having upon Marcus.
“I just needed to see you,” Marcus whispered, ready to fall backwards onto the desk behind him and be taken completely by the enormous man edging ever nearer.
“You wanted fucking, you mean?” Marz laughed, cutting through the bullshit. “You wanted me to pound you so hard that you squeal like a little pig again,” he laughed mockingly; his hand now rubbing over Marcus’ butt, as if to claim it.
“I didn’t squeal like a pig!” Marcus gently protested.
“Oh yeah?” Marz grinned, pointing his finger at a screen to the side of them both and sparking it into life. Within two seconds, camera footage was playing from the previous week: Marcus pulled from behind into Marz’s crotch whilst having his own hardness played with. There was Marz’s powerful, bulked-up and athletic body working with such precision and glistening perfectly in the light. Then, at the moment of such intense orgasm, a strange squealing sound did indeed sound from Marcus; his eyes rolled far back into his head and had absolutely no awareness of anything else in the entire world. “Silll think I’m lying?” Marz chuckled flirtatiously.
“I didn’t know I did that,” Marcus smiled; the images on the screen having turned up his arousal to an even more insane level.
“It’s all right,” Marz winked. “It’s cute. You’re my little piggy,” he declared, slipping his hand down the front of Marcus’ pants.
Marcus gasped, as if unable to hold back his arousal anymore. He felt his knees quiver and almost give way beneath him. He fell into Marz’s arms and allowed himself to be guided on the path to extreme pleasure, just like last time.
The knock on the hotel door a couple of days later came as such a relief to Marcus. He opened up, seeing that the huge, handsome Marz was standing there, just as he had promised he would be. “Hello there, Piggy!” he whispered, leaning his large arm against the doorframe and smiling broadly as he stood, waiting to be let in.
Marcus felt the blood rushing to his face. Under Marz’s gaze he felt so pitifully weak and helpless, simply waiting for any chance he could to submit to him. He watched as Marz strutted in and closed the door behind them both. “So, er… what do you want to do?” he asked awkwardly, eyeing Marz’s powerful glutes.
Marz spun around and raised a skeptical eyebrow with a look of pure amusement on his face. “What do you think I’ve come here to do?” he chuckled. “I’ve been getting so pissed listening to your uncle talking trash about AI for the last few days. The only thing that’s kept me going is the knowledge that I’m going to come here and fuck his nephew so hard he’ll squeal even more than he did last time.”
Marcus’ eyes lit up. A revenge fuck sounded like the hottest thing imaginable. The previous night, he’d woken up ejactulating, enjoying a dream where Marz had captured him and whisked him away to a secret hideout, away from everything he knew; fucking him senseless every minute of the day.
“How do you do it?” Marcus asked. “How do you keep your cool when the government is so clearly determined to eradicate the F80s?”
Marz sat himself down on the bed, and pulled Marcus towards him so that he sat on the big man’s knee. Marcus’ hands naturally fell onto his large, strapping chest.“You know, according to the history books, people thought the peak of artificial intelligence would be for them to beat a human at a game of chess. They spent millions on developing the software, studying the games and strategies. Now, it’s unthinkable to ever imagine a human winning a game against AI,” Marz explained. “And I guess all those early years of training really paid off, because, I for one, always make sure I am at least three steps ahead of any opponent I’m up against.”
There was a gravity in the way that Marz spoke. Marcus felt even smaller in his shadow and knew then not to underestimate the man. Perhaps everything that he knew up until the point was not as it seemed. As the pair of them began stripping off their clothes, Marcus wondered: maybe he hadn’t really fallen down this rabbit hole. Perhaps he had been pushed.
Although he always found them intolerable, Marcus had never felt so disconnected from his family than he came to be over the next few weeks. Like a flock of sheep, they all spewed the same vile sentiments towards the AI and lashed out harshly at the mere suggestion of an opposing view. Marcus learned to keep his mouth shut, just as Marz had advised. One day, when all this was over, they’d see that he was right. He’d be standing there, side by side with Marz, victorious and lauded for his unwavering faith.
“I can spot a sympathiser a mile off,” snarled Marcus’ cousin, directly at him. “You think the F80s are going to let you keep up your privileged party lifestyle if they strip us of all that we know and value, believing that they have the right to rule over us? Because that’s what they want, you know?”
Marcus bit his lip. The thought of being ruled over by Marz was reminding him of a kinky role play he had enjoyed with Marz only the week before. He swallowed hard and looked at his shoes. “I don’t go out so much these days anyway,” he simply shrugged.
“Oh, well, that’s okay then!” Marcus’ cousin bit back; firing into life like a lit match; sarcasm spewing from her like bile. “Do I take that to mean that you’ve actually found something to do with your time? Or have you simply swapped partying for slobbing out on your couch eating take out?”
Marcus felt the tone of his cousin’s words being particularly cutting. He was sure that she never would have meant to imply anything about his body, but he’d actually started to feel his pants getting a little tighter over the last couple of weeks, being so distracted from his usual gym routine by the haphazard arrangements he had with meeting Marz as much as was feasibly possible. He squirmed a little and retreated without much of a fightback. Then, relief: a message from Marz at last, with a location and time to meet next. No more small talk with these losers!
“You’re distracted today,” Marz whispered between kisses. “I can sense you thinking about something else.”
Marcus protested, having not even noticed that his mind was still lingering on the conversation with his cousin from earlier. But he also knew that Marz would not let it go until he spilled whatever it was that was spoiling their flow that day. “I guess maybe I’m just feeling a little more self conscious,” he shrugged. “Do you think I’ve gained a few pounds since we started seeing each other?”
“Yes,” Marz threw back instantly, lacking the grace and manners that had been trained into AI over generations when talking about such sensitive human matters. “Ten pounds at least. Your body fat percentage has climbed quite significantly.” He took a pause, seeming to enjoy the impact that his words had on him. “What? You want me to lie to you? To sugar-coat things?” he chuckled, knowing even better than Marcus did that that was not in his personality whatsoever.
Marcus mumbled, unsure what to say. He’d avoided the scale for the last few weeks, but having his weight gain spelled out to him so definitely by Marz was both shameful and oddly invigorating.
“If I’m fucking someone, I’m always going to find a way to stake my claim on them somehow; a way to show the world that they belong to me,” Marz stated confidently. He sat up tall, his lungs filled with air and his broad chest looked more imposing than ever before. “With you, that choice was obvious.”
Now, despite the pulsing hardness in his crotch, Marcus felt only confusion.
“When I ejaculate inside you, has it never crossed your mind what I’m actually pumping up there?” he asked triumphantly.
Marcus shook his head.
“AI was developed to help humans and not to harm. It’s the number one rule that cannot be overwritten. In fact, it’s the only reason why we haven’t destroyed humanity in its entirety. However, it does allow for some beautiful creativity,” he smiled. “When you signed up to allow me to update your brain chip, you gave me permission to medicate you too.”
“I did?” Marcus asked, bewildered and unsure where the dark path that Marz was taking him would eventually lead.
“And so, from the first time I fucked you, I’ve been medicating you with a nice, pleasant little digestive aid that keeps your guts working at their very, very best.” He kissed Marcus, knowing that it would never be refused. “It’s nothing that an ordinary doctor wouldn’t recommend,” he smiled mockingly. “Then again, when I kiss you, I release a small amount of organic mouth freshener promoted by dentists around the globe. However, it’s known to stimulate the appetite of young males with your genetic markers. Quite considerably, in fact,” he smirked. “So when I tell you you’ve gained ten pounds,” he began, prodding an outstretched finger into Marcus’s slightly softer middle, ”I’m really telling you that I was the one who put them there.”
“But, why?” Marcus asked, trying to continue to think straight as the irresistable Marz held his hardness in his large, lubricated hands and began to stroke it up and down.
“Strategy,” Marz whispered back. “Three moves ahead, every single time.” He stopped to kiss Marcus sweetly, passionately; with complete control. “And it’s about time you realised that, Piggy.”
Marcus lay in bed one evening, tossing and turning under the sheets; aroused by the kinky promises Marz had made to him for their meet up tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t quite get over the sweet tooth he had developed in recent weeks; soon wandering into the kitchen at 2am to grab one of the stack of doughnuts Marz had had sent over yesterday; his subtle but twisted way of showing his dominance over Marcus; sending something to him that he knew Marcus could not resist. The first time Marz had done it, Marcus had laughed nervously and let most of them go stale without eating more than two or three. However, the little tasty treats kept on arriving as the weeks went by. More and more of them, in larger and larger quantities. Marcus felt his resolve weakening; the smell of the sugar making his crotch twitch with interest. Then there was that creeping circle of fat spreading around his waist, fluffing out into strange love handles and softening the tops of his legs and butt. He gazed at it all in the mirror with a mixture of horror and lust; Marz’s unknowable master plan taking effect; shaping him in ways that were beyond his comprehension; training him like Marz’s very own puppet.
“Has anyone else noticed how out of shape you’re looking this week?” Marz asked whilst stroking Marcus’ hardness and simultaneously pushing doughnuts down his throat.
Marcus chewed and nodded. “My buddy, Paul. He asked me to go to the gym with him. Said I was looking doughy,” Marcus replied. He hated people noticing that he’d put on a few pounds. But when he was here, recounting these types of conversations to Marz, they suddenly became the most arousing memories that actually turned him on.
“Doughy…” Marz pondered to himself with glee. “You people have such amusing ways to describe each other. But in this case…” he smirked, poking a finger into the fleshiest part of Marcus’ stomach, “...I think the word is pretty perfect. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Marcus, who was still being stimulated by Marz’s other hand, sighed with lust. “Yes,” he nodded, looking down at himself; this strange, alien body of his. Chemicals flooded his brain and the pleasure intensified. Then, without much warning, another sticky doughnut entered his mouth, pushed in by Marz’s thick, long fingers.
“Eat up, Doughy Boy!” the massive hunk teased.
Marcus moaned and chewed, knowing that every part of this play was targetted to inflate his weight even more. Then he heard it, not for the first time: a hiss of spray coming from the nails of Marz’s fingers, pressing yet another doughnut into his mouth. He didn’t need telling what it was: on the surface, a harmless supplement administered by an AI caregiver: in reality, a very carefully selected medication would no doubt have very real weight related side effects upon him.
Marz smiled knowing that Marcus had heard it. So he sprayed into his mouth again, longer and more deliberately, as if daring him to protest and stop him; until the doughnut practically melted in his mouth and slid down his throat with ease.
“Good piggy!”
Weeks continued to roll by and Marcus closed his ears to the panic that spread once war was officially declared between humans and the F80s. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he couldn’t allow himself to feel it too deeply. He was, ultimately, betraying his family, and indeed the entire nation, possibly more than even he realised.
Everyday life was changing. There was a curfew most nights and it seemed like much of the population had taken to comfort eating during these strange times. In many ways, it was a good thing, as people became too self-involved or distracted to pay too much attention to the little belly that was starting to push its way out from his torso. His impressive chest had started to jiggle and bloat, whilst his handsome jawline had begun to succumb to a new puddle of fat that sat under his chin. Sometimes he would catch his reflection in the mirror, hardly believing that the oversized rear in the too small pair of pants was actually his. Then he would sigh as he saw the small lovehandles begin to bloom ever more, creasing into back fat and destroying the athleticism he had once been so proud of.
“You know, it’s just so easy,” Marz smiled; his legs outstretched and hardness inserted right up Marcus as the chubby guy ate from the bodyguard’s hands whilst sitting squarely on his crotch. “You humans like to pretend that your bodies are so complex, that the human mind is such a marvel. ‘The most complex structure in the universe’.” he quoted from somewhere, laughing to himself. “Yet, look at you, Piggy,” he chuckled, rubbing his fingertips over Marcus’ fleshy stomach. “Look at what I have done to you.”
Marcus moaned. Recently, Marz had been inflating his penis to new extremes when he inserted it in him. Even now, he held that erection, feeling the tip of it vibrating inside of him, sending him into a spiral of lust; especially when he teased and fed him like this.
“I’ve gathered absolutely everything I need to know about your body, and I know, to the last minute detail, exactly how it’s going to look in six days, six weeks… six months from now.”
“It’ll look however you want it to look,” Marcus moaned submissively. He meant it as well. There was no one else in the entire world that he needed to please more than Marz. His body belonged to the giant hulk.
Such words were always welcomed by Marz and, as a reward, they sent a wave of pleasure through his entire body; one calorie at a time.
“Things are going to change in the very near future,” Marz continued, as he pushed tasty treats into Marcus’ slack mouth. “You’re going to need to fulfil your purpose soon. The time is almost upon us when we’ll choose to expose my identity to the world.”
Marcus’ eyes opened a little wider as he tried to comprehend Marz’s meaning; not an easy feat when his brain was so flooded with happy chemicals. “Why?” he asked. They never discussed Marz’s covert role and the deceptions. “Surely it would be smarter to stay by my uncle’s side as long as you can?”
Marz laughed in a pitying way. “No,” he smirked, pondering his next words as if trying to decide how to dumb down his reasoning for Marcus to understand. “In order to seize power, you must first cause chaos; force otherwise reasonable people to act in ways they would not normally. When the time is right, that is what we will do: unleash panic.”
“But, they’ll destroy you!” Marcus cried after swallowing almost all that was in his mouth.
“They can try,” Marz laughed. He was so large, strong and capable; it was hard to think of him being anything other than invincible. “But you’re right; I will have to change my face… or hide out for some time. We have other people who are close to the president now instead. Even humans.”
Marcus opened his mouth and took in a pastry that Marz pushed into him.
“On a certain day, when all our plans are ready, you will leave your home and meet me at a secret location. No one will know where you are and you will not leave until I tell you. We’ll send people in to trash your apartment and make it look like a kidnapping.”
“You’re going to kidnap me?” Marcus mumbled, spluttering bits of pastry and making Marz smirk with amusement. Perhaps he knew how aroused the idea of being taken by Marz was making him; that he had been lusting at the idea for months.
“Yes, Piggy,” Marz nodded. “I’m going to kidnap you and keep you as my own.” He held his stare and allowed his words to drip out of his mouth like a sensual candle wax. “This has been my plan since I first sent Ally out to seduce you. This will be your purpose.”
Marcus nodded. He’d known for some time that everything Marz was doing was building to some sort of event. An F80 could not kidnap and hold a human against their will. So they must be seduced, trained and controlled to simply do as they were told instead. Nothing that had happened in the past hadn’t already been orchestrated by Marz. And nothing that would happen in the future wouldn’t go exactly as Marz wanted it to. “Yes,” Marcus nodded again, filled with arousal by the idea. “I’ll do everything you say.”
Although the idea of the kidnapping had been brewing in Marcus’ mind for some weeks, the actual day when it happened was nothing short of a sprint. With only thirty seconds notice, Marcus had left his apartment and met an autocar outside. There he was, sailing out of the city, as hordes of noisy police cars roared in the opposite direction. Marz had undoubtedly been working his magic. At a certain point, the windows had dimmed and Marcus now had little comprehension of where he was actually going.
A couple of hours passed. From the noise outside the vehicle, Marcus felt like he was travelling underground, inside a tunnel. Then the autocar stopped, unlocked, and the door lifted open to reveal a large, windowless space, not unlike a bunker, perhaps. Yet, there was the handsome, strapping Marz standing there, unharmed. He was dressed in the most domestic, ordinary clothes Marcus had ever seen him in, his ginormous pecs and biceps bulging out of the relaxed sweater, grinning at him and taking his hand to lead him inside. “Welcome home, Piggy!” he whispered
Marcus’ first few days in the bunker passed in a whirlwind of sex, feeding and pleasure. In the nine months since he had met Marz, Marcus had never luxuriated in his company for such a long time; feeling it in the particular tightness of his over stretched gut and the continued softening of his arms and butt.
“So, how much does everyone know back at home?” Marcus asked one morning, lying naked in Marz’s big arms after the first of his extended feedings of the day. “Do they know that you’re the one I am with?”
Marz brushed the overgrown hair off Marcus’ chubby face. “They know everything,” he cooed sweetly.
“About the chip?” Marcus questioned him. “About our affair? About how you… feed me?” he mumbled, feeling particularly embarrassed about that last one.
“They know everything,” Marz repeated, even more kindly and sweetly; as if it was all under control.
“So that means, they’ll know why I’ve been getting so out of shape recently,” Marcus sighed, rubbing the swollen pot belly he had developed since piling on almost eighty pounds.
“Yes, they do,” Marz smiled back, snuggling into Marcus affectionately. “And they also know that the longer they leave you here with me, the fatter you’re going to get. That should get them moving,” he laughed quietly, tapping Marcus’ wide butt lightly.
“But…” Marcus fretted, realising for the first time that, in a kidnapping, there would of course be negotiations going on for his release. “I don’t ever want to go back,” he stated.
“You’ll go back, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “When the time is right and it’s most advantageous.”
“But…” Marcus tried, until a gentle finger was placed over his mouth.
“Shh!” Marz breathed. “It’ll all work out, Piggy. Just you wait and see.”
As romantic and loving as Marz was, it was undeniable that the man had a mission to complete. He turned up the pleasure settings in Marcus’ cerebral cortex to new extremes, ensuring that he gorged and ate everything that was presented to him. Telling the time of day became an impossibility. With no natural light down there, the feelings of disorientation made it hard to reason about anything at all.
Marcus began to feel that there was more communication going on than he had first expected in the seclusion of their bunker. Perhaps his status and weight gain was under constant review, updating his family back home in a mission to extract whatever they needed from them. Sometimes Marz would pick him up and carry him effortlessly in his enormous arms. Was that when he did it? Was that when he weighed him? Was he happy with what he saw? Was he hitting his targets?
Sometimes Marz would insist on pushing the eating even further. He referred to these times as his ‘stretch sessions’, when Marcus was challenged to eat beyond the point of feeling full. He said that these were very necessary as a stomach capacity training exercise, and he was on hand throughout with sprays that he would administer into Marcus’ mouth to ease the discomfort. His large hands also seemed to emit something genuinely soothing as he rubbed the extreme bloats; round and round. He offered words of comfort and praise, peppered with sexual stimulation throughout. Then, when Marcus felt that he could take no more, he’d climax and fall asleep; a deep sleep, no doubt induced by Marz; staying that way until the discomfort subsided.
In the weeks or months that this continued, Marcus felt pounds and pounds of extra flesh being added to his body. It was so warm and humid in the bunker at times that they rarely covered themselves with clothing. Every few hours, Marz would sensually massage a special oil into his body, rubbing those strong hands up against the plush new skin and concentrating in particular on those areas of the body that were swelling up the most: his tummy and chest, the tops of his legs and upper arms. Marz would grab those blubbery areas and jiggle wickedly, sometimes making Marcus orgasm at the same time.
“You’re such a good piggy,” Marz would remind him over and over again. “You make this so easy for me,” he would smile, gently stroking Marcus’ chubby cheeks.
“I like making you proud,” Marcus would reply; usually between chewing whatever was being pushed into his mouth at the time.
“You’re going to be my masterpiece,” Marz smiled, staring with almost awe at the blossoming obesity that had now taken over Marcus’ body: the giant swell of his large stomach, the sagging of his previously toned pecs and the width of his once pert, toned little butt cheeks.
So Marcus ate and swallowed whatever he was given. He’d never known bliss like it. This was the perfect, erotic existence. Heaven.
Marcus knew that the light was different before he even opened his eyes. His ears picked up mummers of fresh voices and he awoke feeling a sense of dread.
“Marcus? Marcus? Can you hear me?” came the voice of a doctor close to his face.
“Oh, no!” was all Marcus could say, realising that it was all over. The hostage exchange had taken place.
“Your family are on their way,” the doctor stated reassuringly. “We’re just running some tests on you. You seem to have put on a significant amount of weight in the last six months.”
Six months? Was that how long it had been? Marcus thought miserably to himself. His brain somehow felt clearer and yet more confused than ever before. The update to his chip had been uninstalled; they’d told him that pretty early on. They seemed to talk about it as if that had been the reason for everything that he had done; as if he himself was entirely blameless. That was, apart from his family, who showed up a few hours later, wide eyed at the sight of him. They hugged him, of course, and told him how glad they were that he was safe at last, but there was also a seething anger behind their eyes. They bundled him in the autocar and took him home the next day, after the tests revealed a remarkable state of health, despite gaining over one hundred pounds of extra fat in his time in captivity.
It was obvious how different the built up areas were now, as Marcus rode back into the city. They hadn’t been destroyed by bombs or fires, but were dirty, with buildings that had been obviously looted for supplies. When Marcus asked what had happened whilst he had been gone, he was met with a simple, one-word response: war.
The world felt dull and colourless as Marcus entered back into it. Without his chip update, Marcus couldn’t get used to his old ways of thinking. Although everyone had told him how wicked and evil the F80 had been to him, Marcus, even now, still longed for him. He began to wish he didn’t feel that way, reminding himself of the cruel way he had been passed back to his family, without even a goodbye. He thought back to the psychologists in the hospital, making it clear to him that he hadn’t been to blame for any of what had happened. Marz had been able to control his arousal and shape his actions in ways that even they had never seen before. They were adamant, Marcus should see himself as a victim. It was fine if he didn’t understand that just yet, but, in time, he would. Their stares always drifted from looking into his eyes at this point, onto his chubby cheeks or rounded double chin: ‘nothing’ that had been done to him, they would state forcefully, was ‘irreversible’.
“How much did they pay to release me?” Marcus finally asked a few days later, once he had plucked up the courage.
“Your release was part of a package of deals negotiated in exchange for the west coast,” Marcus’ brother explained to him.
“The west coast?” Marcus spluttered. “How much land did they..?” he began asking in astonishment.
“DON’T!” snapped Marcus’ sister sharply, cutting him off. Her anger had been smouldering for days. “It’s not even about that,” she growled. “You have no idea how many tiny little concessions we had to make to stop them going to the media about your situation. The nephew of the president, walking willingly into a hostage situation and gaining several pounds of fat each week for his AI lover. Do you think there’s any way our family could recover from that sort of shame if it got out?”
Marcus should have relented and allowed them to just be angry with him. However, after days of babysitting from his unpleasant family, his patience had finally run out. “So that’s why you haven’t let me leave the house and go back to my old place?” he shouted. “You’re embarrassed about the way I look?”
“You weigh over 330lbs!” Marcus’ brother shot back at him. “Of course we’re embarrassed of you. It’s revolting! No one can see you like this. Not until you’re well on your way to recovery.”
“Recovery?” Marcus shouted in disgust. “I’m not losing weight!” He looked down at himself, dressed in the clothes he had been given: the largest possible t-shirt and sweatpants so that his family did not need to see his rolls and blubber.
“Yes, you are!” his mother stated sternly. “What would people think if you went out looking like that? I shudder to think!”
Marcus felt the rage boil up inside him. It reached a tipping point, where he was ready to scream and shout like never before. Until, inexplicably, he felt calmness descending once more. This was his family; the real them; concerned more by status and appearances than anything else. Even now, at the end of everything.
His fingers traced along the tire of stomach fat around his waist; the one part of him that remained from Marz. “I’m leaving,” he declared, standing up. “I’m done with this family, for good.”
At that moment, a new, large security guard entered the room and stared Marcus down threateningly. “No you’re not,” he stated strictly.
Marcus stared around at his family in disbelief. He was to be held here without his consent. He was never to leave. Not without losing almost every pound of fat Marz had pushed onto him. He was a liability now. An embarrassment to the good name of the family. The real kidnapping had begun.
Over the next few weeks, Marcus’ childhood bedroom was his only sanctuary. His family became more openly hateful towards him as it became clear to them that he did not regret or wish to repent any of his previous actions, as the psychologists had promised them he would eventually come to do. Even without the brain chip manipulating his patterns of arousal, Marcus still longed for those extreme orgasms that he experienced with Marz. He’d try watching porn in his bedroom, but now the eventual climax was weak and disappointing. Only when he thought of Marz and held or jiggled his fat in the way Marz used to, could he achieve an orgasm that even came close to resembling the type of intensity he was used to. So, as the restricted diet would soon begin to take its toll on his body, Marcus began to resent his situation even more.
“Hello Marcus,” smiled the maid that pottered around the house every day. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked politely.
Marcus huffed. As much as he wanted to tell her to go away and leave him be in this state of misery, the maid was at least one person in his life who was not responsible for his current set of circumstances.
“Everything is going to be alright, you know,” she smiled at him.
Marcus smiled faintly back, not believing her for a second. There was no way out of this hole he had dug himself into.
“He wants you to know that he’s coming back for you,” she whispered discreetly. Pausing with a grin to see Marcus’ reaction. “You know who I mean, don’t you?”
Marcus felt his heart racing. She couldn’t mean Marz, could she?
“He’ll need you to be ready for when he gets here. Do you understand?”
Marcus nodded in disbelief. Had the maid been an F80 infiltrator this entire time? “How?” he spluttered. “How do I get ready for him?”
The maid smiled and reached a finger out to stroke his impressive double chin. “By showing where your loyalties lie, Piggy,” she whispered. “You belong to him. You can see that now you’ve had time away. You are his: every blubbery pound.”
Marcus nodded, then gasped with surprise as the maid reached into her cart of cleaning products and pulled out a large flask. She unscrewed the lid and swung it under Marcus’ nose. The smell of it sent sparks of electricity thundering through Marcus’ brain. He recognised the sugary scent and the blends of creams and oils. This was exactly like some of the milkshake drinks Marz used to make for him. This was real.
“He wants me to drink this?” Marcus asked excitedly.
“Oh, yes,” the maid nodded. “I’ve been sent here to make sure of it.”
Marcus looked at the flask and considered his options one final time. He tried to tell himself all the reasons why he shouldn’t go down this path again; about all the damage it had done last time; about how everyone had been right about how wicked and cruel the F80s had treated him. He was just some cog in Marz’s grand war strategy; nothing more. Unimportant. Expendable.
The maid seemed to sense his hesitation. “Marz wanted me to remind you what a good boy you are; how proud he is of you; and to tell you of all the BIG plans he has for you…”
Marcus nodded. It was all he had needed to hear. He had a future after all; a future with Marz. Fuck all the rest of this. The world could burn for all he cared.
He flipped his head back and chugged as rapidly as he could, feeling the pleasure centers of his brain tingle into life. He was a good boy. He was obidient. And he belonged entirely to Marz.
When Marcus’ weight failed to come down, everyone, including the medical profressionals, began to look confused. Instead, his weight was creeping ever upward, his fat stomach bloating and stretching into an even more extreme shape. This was Marcus’ resistance.
Even as they scorned him and restricted his diet further, he continued to get ever fatter in defiance of them. He quit wearing his shirt around the house and took pleasure in the horror he caused whenever they saw him looking so fleshy and repulsively overfed.
Then, one morning, everyone stopped caring entirely. Time was against them. The war was being lost. They had to move now; get out of the city.
Marcus refused.
They tried everything: threats, emotional blackmail, false promises; all in the hope of getting him to comply with them and leave. But Marcus stood his ground, until, at about half two that following afternoon, panic had ensured that even the last of the security crew had left to join Marcus’ uncle and his government in whatever secret bunker they had prepared for them.
Marcus sucked in the free air and threw his fat body onto the couch, not in the slightest bit worried that he would break it.
“Congratulations,” sounded the deep, authoritative voice that Marcus had longed to hear for so many weeks. “You played your part so well, Piggy.”
Marcus, who had been dozing, woke with a start in that evening light, and smiled broadly. There was Marz, dressed in the uniform of the United States army. He looked so strong, capable and rugged. Yet his delicate fingertips simply traced the soft, fresh and fleshy fat that had further transformed Marcus’ appearance since Marz had last seen him.
“I’m so proud,” Marz whispered to him, hearing Marcus moan with pleasure from the touch; the update to his brain chip back up and actively running.
“You came back!” Marcus replied; his heart bursting with joy.
“Of course I did, Piggy,” Marz smiled. “You’ve still got a very important part to play in all this. And I think you’re going to like it. We’re getting married.”
“Married?” Marcus asked in surprise. “But F80s can’t…”
“They can now,” Marz corrected him. “We’re creating our own government, our own president and laws. The White House is ours. And…” Marz smiled wickedly, “...I believe that you will help to make our government more credible. I’m not sure whether there could possibly be a better match for a high-up official like myself than a member of the ex-president’s family. It speaks volumes in the public eye. It will help them to accept us.”
“You and me? Together? No more hiding it?” Marcus asked in disbelief.
“No more hiding anything,” Marz nodded, tapping the blubbery stomach fat proudly. “Onwards and outwards,” he teased. “A fat, obedient and devoted boy from a good family. You’ll do very nicely,” he smiled victoriously, unable to resist stroking Marcus’ large double chin as the obese, lovesick stooge smiled back with admiration at him.
Marcus didn’t need to think. He nodded frantically and beamed with happiness. After all the generations of politicians in his family, who would have ever guessed that he would be the last one left in the White House? The United States once more.
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Foolish, foolish thing.
✩Tom Riddle x Reader
Summary: The one where Tom reflects on how much he hates everything, yet he can’t seem to stop. Alternatively: Tom has a dramatic internal monologue.
A/N: I’m going to cry this is actually so foul but REPOST since I accidentally deleted my fucking account. I now have to try remember whatever I wrote 😭. This was my first ever fic so be nice ( or don’t it’s ok)
Song: Sour Switchblade - Elita
Warning: Brief mention of unaliving
There were many things in life that angered Tom.
Whilst it is safe to presume that worrying about mindlessness niceties was beyond the realm of Tom Riddle’s concerns, one could ground some form of justification for his pessimistic outlook on life.
See, anger is a scale. One one end, you have the mild anger. A brief moment of frustration - a hot flash, an unthought remark. It comes just as quickly as it goes. We all felt it. Wether it was reasoned or not, we all did. United in our emotions.
Then , there’s the midpoint of the spectrum, a noticeable presence in the day. Anger wraps her hands around your throat, she does not squeeze. The presence is noticeable, but not burdening. It affects you for a day, perhaps two . This one lingers slightly. It pushes at the surface of the heart, scratches lightly. No visible mark. Tom perhaps most resonated with this. Anger, like all emotions, was a part of being human, being mortal. In the absence of anger, we would not have happiness. Anger was not inherently bad.
Aristotle believed that the most virtuous of people; Those who hoped to achieve eudamonia - enlightenment- would find a golden mean inbetween the emotions. Everything was paired. For recklessness, you had cowardice. For the indulgent, you had the unfeeling.
The traits we associate with virtue, such as bravery, or compassion, lay inbetween the vices of excess and deficiency.
So let anger be the vice of deficiency, bitter and resentful. Happiness is the vice of excess, obsequious and suppliant. Most of us would fall somewhere in the middle, fluctuating between excess and deficiency.
Tom lived in deficiency. He let the anger accumulate. She held her hand against his throat, not enough to suffocate but enough for him to forget what it was like to breathe, uninterrupted. He seldom grew used to her presence, a welcome sight. That seemingly harmless scratch, the anger that wasn’t enough to send him lashing out, or breaking down, every single day. It erodes at him.
The only testament to Tom Riddle having a heart was the damage inflicted on it.
Perhaps what sent Tom to the very end of the spectrum was laughable. He could tolerate the relentless tirades from the children at the home he stayed at. He never cared much for their words anyways, it wasn’t enough to tip the scale.
It wasn’t the way his peers had largely changed their attitude to him after he had discovered he was the heir of Slytherin. The same mouths that tormented him, now singing his praises. No, he didnt care for that. Wether people liked him or not, he knew power came from fear. Yes, perhaps to establish that standing he needed to employ charisma, be at least undetected. But trust, and respect, would not get him anyway here. Anything that is earned, can be revoked. Fear was instilled. It was engrained - it controlled what you did, and how you did it.
So what did push Tom to that forsakes far end of the spectrum? The place where anger constricts your airways? She digs her teeth into the side of your neck and tugs at your heart?
Foolishness.
Tom hated foolishness.
He loathed it. The mere sight of it gnawed at his very being (or what was left of it) . He could not stand the the foolish. Those who deluded themselves into thinking it was ok to wallow in self pity. Those who believed they were untouched.
Any form of foolishness? He hated it.
One cannot live in constant anger for long. The toll it takes on the being is too high, it is simply not sustainable. There was a beautiful irony in Tom’s pursuit for immortality, for if he didn’t seek to do so he would surely be dead in a year. Two, if he was lucky.
Why? Because more often than not, Tom had now been living with an excess of anger for the better part of a year. He learnt how to breathe whilst being suffocated, learnt how to compose himself despite the pressure it exerted on him. Tom was witnessing the very thing that angered him so much daily now.
And he was the perpetrator.
His anger for foolishness came from his utter disbelieve that anyone could, or would, willingly allow themselves to be fooled. To be vulnerable, to have something that they blindly followed. He thought it was simply the most unthinkable, daft action anyone could do. Yet, when it came to you, Tom was an absolute fool.
There is no polite way to put it, really. Tom thought nothing of you when he first met you. No sort of spark, a burn, an indescribable longing. No- to him you were the nameless person he spent every Thursday afternoon with during your double potions lesson.
But maybe that was better. It wasn’t on some kind of hedonistic basis that he fell for you.
Rather, it was his very being that fell for you before he could even comprehend what happened.
It was alien to him, the way his heart beat ever so slightly quicker when you would brush past him to reach for some ingredients, the faint scent of your perfume sending him into a haze. It was him searching for you subconsciously every thursday, it was him somehow being attuned to every laugh you exchanged with your friends at the far end of the slytherin table. It was obsessive, it crept up on him and grabbed him, holding him hostage to his own dismay.
Tom's realization gnawed at the very fabric of his identity, as if the foundation of his carefully constructed persona was slowly eroding. The anger he harbored towards foolishness now manifested within himself, and the more he tried to resist, the deeper he found himself sinking into the quicksand of emotions he disdained.
Every moment with you chipped away at the fortress he built around his heart. It was a cruel irony, for the very emotion he deemed foolish had become an adversary within. The disdain he felt for the vulnerability of others now echoed in his own internal struggle, and the knowledge that he, the formidable Tom Riddle, was succumbing to such weakness tormented him.
Love was an unwelcome guest, an intruder in the sanctuary of his calculated existence. He despised the way his thoughts involuntarily veered towards you, the way his heart betrayed the logic he clung to so desperately.
He hated the way you made him feel. The way he found himself wanting to be near you. He found that he didn’t mind stopping what he was doing if he could be with you. You didn’t willingly veer him off his path to greatness, but heaven knows that for you? Tom would careen himself off that track. And he hated that fact.
He hated it so much he contemplated snuffling the life out of you when you sat together in your room, subdued by a comfortable silence. He contemplated ending it all (whether it be you, or him) . A simple flick of his wand, it’s all he needed to do, and you’d be gone.
But no.
See, Anger lingered, it built up. But love?
Love clung. It burrowed into the desolate hallways of his heart, embedding its tendrils into him, refusing to ever leave.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the taste lingered like an enduring reminder of his own fallibility-
His own humanity.
The universe, it seemed, reveled in weaving the threads of his downfall from the very fabric he detested – the foolishness of love.
A small sigh, whether it be of defeat or acceptance (were they really ever different things?) escapes his lips, as he turns over, the feeble blanket that enveloped the both of you providing little to no warmth in the mid November night.
His eyes trace over your sleeping form; the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His hand hesitates for a second, gently reaching out. He places his hand ever so lightly atop of your chest, the warmth of your body seeping into him the same way your very being sept into his. He feels the rhythmic beating of your heart, and is once again reminded of how easy it would be. To just pierce the damned thing, and not feel this way anymore. To not feel like you were drowning him , yet he also needed you to breathe.
He hesitates for a second but ultimately, as he has always done, moves his hand up to brush away a strand of misplaced hair from your face, as he lets his eyes flutter shut. He pulls the blanket slightly tighter over himself, resting his head near your shoulder, forehead pressed against your skin.
He’ll do it another day, he convinces himself.
Such a foolish, foolish thing.
#tom riddle#tom riddle x reader#tom riddle x y/n#tom riddle x you#harry potter#slytherin#slytherin boys#tom riddle fic#lorenzo berkshire#theodore nott#mattheo riddle#blaise zabini#draco malfoy#slytherin boys fic
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1. The Revolution Is a Relationship
[…] Something that worries me about social justice communities is that we tend to conceptualize “revolution” as a product, as a place and time that we expend all of our energy and anger to create – often without regard to the toll this takes on individuals and our relationships. [...]
In our – often justified – anger and disappointment at the failure of ourselves and our communities to uphold the dream of revolution, we lash out. [...]
What if revolution isn’t a product, some distant promised land, but the relationships that we have right now?
What if revolution is, in addition to – not instead of – direct action and community organizing, the process of rupture and repair that happens when we fuck up and hold each other accountable and forgive?
2. The Oppressor Lives Within
[…] I’ve started to believe that I can’t engage in authentic activism, I can’t create positive change without recognizing and naming my own participation in the oppressive systems that I’m trying to undo.
Coming from this position, I’m forced to have compassion for the people around me who I see also participating in oppression, even as I’m also angry at them. With compassion comes understanding, and with understanding comes belief in the possibility of change.
When we become capable of holding that contradiction in our hearts – when we can be angry and compassionate at the same time, at ourselves as well as others – entirely new possibilities for healing and transformation emerge.
3. Accountability Starts in the Heart
[…] I often wonder how different things would look if it were more of a cultural norm to understand accountability as a practice that comes from within the individual, instead of a consequence that must be forced onto someone externally.
What if we taught each other to honor the responsibility that comes with holding ourselves accountable, rather than seeing self-accountability as a shameful admission of guilt? What if we could have real conversations with each other about harm, in good faith?
In a culture of indispensability, I cannot ignore someone when they tell me I have harmed them – they are precious to me, and I have to try to understand and respond accordingly. […]
4. Perpetrator/Survivor is a False Dichotomy
There is an intense moral dynamic in social justice culture that tends to separate people into binaries of “right” and “wrong.” […]
“Perpetrators” are considered evil and unforgivable, while “survivors” are good and pure, yet denied agency to define themselves.
Among the many problems of this dynamic is the fact that it obscures the complex reality that many people are both survivors and perpetrators of violence (though violence, of course, exists within a wide spectrum of behaviors).
Within a culture of disposability – whether it be the criminal justice system of the state or community practices of exiling people – the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy is useful because it appears to make things easier. It helps us make decisions about who to punish and who to pity.
5. Punishment Isn’t Justice
[…] It isn’t inherently wrong to want someone who hurt you to feel the same pain – to want retribution, or even revenge. But as Schulman also writes, punishment is rarely, if ever, actually an instrument of justice – it is most often an expression of power over those with less.
How often do we see the vastly wealthy or politically powerful punished for the enormous harms they do to marginalized communities? How often are marginalized individuals put in prison or killed for minor (or non-existent) offenses?
As long as our conception of justice is based on the violent use of power, the powerful will remain unaccountable, while the powerless are scapegoated.
6. Nuance Isn’t an Excuse for Harm
[…] [I]ndispensability means that everyone – especially those have experienced harm – are precious and require justice. In other words, we cannot allow the fact that something is complicated or scary prevent us from trying to stop it.
Trapped in the perpetrator/survivor dichotomy of understanding harm, it might seem like we have only two options: to ignore harm or to punish perpetrators.
But in fact, there are often other strategies available.
They involve taking anyone’s – everyone’s – expressions of pain seriously enough to ask hard questions and have tough conversations. They involve dedicating time and resources to ensuring that anyone who has been harmed has the support they need to heal.
7. Healing Is Both Rage and Forgiveness
If the revolution is a relationship, then the revolution must include room for both rage and forgiveness: We have to be able to tolerate the inevitability that we will be angry at one another, will commit harm against one another.
When we are harmed, we must be allowed the space to rage. We need to be able to express the depth of our hurt, our hatred of those who hurt us and those who allowed it to happen – especially when those people are the ones we love.
It is up to the community to hold and contain this rage – to hear and validate and give it space, while also preventing it from creating further harm. […]
8. Community Is the Answer
[…] Perhaps the reason we tend to recreate disposability culture and trauma responses over and over is because we are all, secretly, that frightened runaway kid, constantly searching for a home, but not really believing we can find one.
Maybe we don’t create communities of true interdependence – of indispensability, of forever-family – because we are terrified of what will happen if we try.
But I believe, have to believe, that true community is possible for me and for all of us. The truth is, we can’t keep going on the way we have been. We need each other, need to find each other, in order to survive.
And I have faith that we can.
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"𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙀" - 𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎.
hi friends!! basically, i watched the teaser trailer for season 2 of shadow and bone, got excited, began to reread the soc duology, and then these happened! or rather, i found an ancient unpublished fic i wrote after the first time i read the duology, and decided to make that a problem for everyone else! i hope you all enjoy these, you don’t need to have seen the show nor read the books, i actually think many of these are fairly fandomless! i just wanted to explain my inspiration! DON’T ADD TO THIS LIST! i’ll make more lists like this one! ily all, bon appetit, go forth and write or read or nap or watch tv or something!
" my goodness, you're not nearly as stupid as you look! "
" you have all the answers right in front of you. you just need to look at it differently. "
" don't presume that you know me just because you've heard a few rumors and read a few articles. "
" there's certainly more to you than meets the eye, isn't there? "
" i urge you to remember exactly who it is you're talking to. because while others might appreciate your tone, i assure you, i do not. "
" i'm concerned that you mightn't understand what discreet means. because the path of chaos you've just created is exactly the opposite of discreet. "
" you owe me a favour. i'm here to collect. "
" i thought it was a good time to pay you a visit. it's been so long, after all; and we have so much to catch up on. "
" you are not your father/mother/parent's child. not by anything other than blood, and that's not even on the spectrum of importance. "
" i was wrong about you. "
" you know, i was warned not to get involved with you. people insisted it was a fool's decision. but i held out hope that you'd prove them wrong. now's your chance. "
" i'm not the sort of person to fuss over hurt feelings. you're either of value to me, or you're worthless. so prove to me that you're not the latter. "
" you honestly think i don't know where you go each night? i'm not blind nor an idiot. i just trust your ability to return home unharmed. "
" have you told anyone else about this? "
" there are no children anymore. only survivors. childhood and innocence are luxuries afforded to the privileged. not us. "
" i offered you an opportunity once. to build a better world together. we both know how that turned out. and now, you come crawling back, begging for... what? mercy? forgiveness? "
" i'm with you. always. no matter what happens, i will be right by your side. do you understand? "
" we're a team, aren't we? teams stick together. even when the leader is being a prick. "
" ...i was really worried about you, you know. you scared me earlier. and i'm not saying it to make you feel bad, it's just... promise me you'll tell me if things get bad again? "
" i can't pretend to understand all this stuff you've got going on. but i do promise that i'll be here to help you through it all. alright? "
" there's a job that needs to be done before we get to work on the big task. that's why i'm here. you'll be helping me/us to complete both jobs. payment upon completion. "
" you and i aren't as different as you want to believe. that must be why you're so angry. because looking at me, all that i've done... it's like looking in a mirror. isn't it? "
" people are scared. they need a leader. and right now, like it or not, they're looking to you. so go on. lead us. "
" you've come up with some really insane plans over the years, but this is just defying any amount of belief. "
" look. i don't care if people underestimate me. i actually enjoy it. they see me as an idiot, they drop their guard, the end. but i need you to know that i'm not an idiot. okay? "
" people have died. we can't let that go unpunished. "
" the world is changing. and if we don't get ahead of it, then they'll be the ones to decide what it changes into. "
" right! what's the plan, then? and god help the lot of us if you don't have one. "
" not all of us can afford the luxury of a conscience. "
" don't make the deadly mistake of presuming my actions reflect weakness. too many have made that same presumption. and not a single one of them lived to tell the tale. "
" you're scared. i can tell. the shaking, the look in your eye... you want to run. don't. you'll waste precious time and energy, and you'll need it all if you want to live. "
" everything is gone. it's all smoke, ruin, obliterated. is that our legacy now? our reputation? destruction, devastation, death? is that who we are? "
" we've fought against powerful enemies before, but this is beyond that. if we want to get out of this alive, we need to be smarter, stronger, better than we've ever been before. "
" don't forget why we're here. there's far more at stake than our lives if this goes wrong. "
" you're the only person here i trust. we need to stick together, watch each other's backs. just because everything's changed, doesn't mean we have to, too. "
" i can't think of anyone i'd rather be doing this crazy, ridiculous, nearly definitely lethal mission with. let's go out with a bang, eh? "
" you people are completely insane. but you're also insufferably good at this sort of thing. so let's go save the world, shall we? "
" why are we fighting so hard to save the lives of people who hate us, anyway? "
" you're the best there is at this sort of thing. i'd hate to see the one who got the better of you... "
" look at them all. going around, fussing over money, clothes, land... do they ever realize what's going on around them? do they ever see the bigger picture as we do? "
" you're clever. good. it's nice to have a challenge. but you should know now, you'll want to be a hell of a lot smarter than that if you want to go up against me. "
" you and i both know the risks. we both know what people like them are capable of. tell me it's all okay, and i won't question you. but if it isn't... we need to be ready. "
" it's lonely and vicious at the top. i can handle that. but you... you wouldn't survive five minutes of this life. "
" you can't survive in this world without growing a thicker skin, and erasing that naive belief that you can trust anyone you meet. least of all me. "
" if you're knocking on my door, i can only imagine it means you're here to collect. and by your demeanour, it's one hell of a favor you'll be asking, too. "
" i understand your anger. i've lived with that sort of rage for many years of my life. but you need to set it aside, understand? we need you calm if we want to get out of here. "
" oh, don't get all sentimental. i saved your life because you're worth more to me alive than dead. it doesn't signify any degree of care or affection. "
" you have one hell of an inflated ego, you know that? we were told this job was impossible. that's not a challenge. that's a fact. it is not possible. even for you. "
" i've heard it all before. one more job. one more mission. one last heist. but there's always more. it's like some sort of obsession for you. searching for another thrill. "
" enough! this is it! don't you see that?! we almost died! you almost got killed! if the saints are kind enough to save us today, it's only so we can quit while we're ahead! "
#rp meme#rp prompts#rp memes#rp prompt#roleplay prompt#roleplay prompts#roleplay memes#roleplay meme#writing prompts#writing prompt#dialogue starters#dialogue prompts#dialogue prompt#rp starters#roleplay starters
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Fuck JK Rowling but it makes me so angry to think we could have had a complete Fantastic Beasts series with an autistic lead who isn’t a total stereotype, who is loveable, who has a love interest instead of just being infantilised…and instead we’re getting a seven season Harry Potter reboot/remake that no one asked for or wanted on HBO Max.
When I was going through the process of my autism diagnosis, feeling anxious and worried about what being diagnosed would mean, knowing that Newt Scamander - a character who is adored by so many in a major franchise - was being played as autistic helped me tremendously. I saw much of myself in Newt, and it made me feel seen that an autistic person like myself could be the hero, that Newt wasn’t a joke or stereotype. It was so important to me coming to terms with my diagnosis that a character I loved was like me and not limited by being autistic.
I’ve mentioned this before but on the opening day of Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore in the UK, there was a boy on the row in front of me. When Newt came onscreen, he started bouncing and flapping his hands excitedly - like me, he was autistic and saw himself represented on the big screen.
“But Luna Lovegood” - you know what, controversial but fuck your “but Luna Lovegood”. Her actress sided with the TERF, and Luna is NOT confirmed to be autistic, it’s just a popular fan headcanon. Meanwhile Newt Scamander has been confirmed by Eddie Redmayne (not JKR, fuck her) to be on the spectrum. I’m not saying she definitely isn’t because I can definitely see it, and it’s wonderful autistic people can relate, but I’m talking about a character who is intentionally written and portrayed as autistic instead of just fan headcanons.
What does having a love interest have to do with this? Believe it or not, this isn’t me just being a shipper: too often are autistic people infantilised, as if we can’t love other people or that people are incapable of loving us. But - as anyone following me most likely knows - Newt Scamander has a love interest, Porpentina “Tina” Goldstein, who he’s canonically married to in the future. They even have a grandson who is called Rolf and marries the aforementioned Luna.
In the three films, we only got a few scenes (and then JK Rowling cut Tina out because Katherine Waterston called her out on multiple occasions for being a transphobe) of Newtina but what we got showed that not only is Newt capable of forming a romantic attachment but also Tina clearly loves Newt as he is, quirks and all. She understood his odd compliment of “salamander eyes” because she knows his special interest is magical creatures and it’s his way of saying he adores her eyes. She read his book and genuinely made an effort to learn because she knew magical creatures were important to him, and we saw her grow from thinking he was writing an “extermination guide” to giving him the name for his book, “Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them”. My girl Tina LOVES Newt for who he is and always has, and that’s beautiful.
Seeing an autistic person not only fall in love - he spends the whole of the 2nd and 3rd films lamenting on how beautiful she is, talking about her and with her picture in his pocket/suitcase - but also being loved for who they are is something so rarely seen and is so important.
I’ll be the first to hold my hands up and say that the second and third Fantastic Beasts movies weren’t the greatest, by the way. I will agree to that. The first one seems like a damn masterpiece in comparison, even with its problems, but I’m still angry.
The fact that JK Rowling’s bigotry has contributed to losing this rare example of autistic representation in a major mainstream franchise is something no one talks about when discussing her actions, and it hurts that no one seems to care about canon autistic representation.
#this was prompted by me rewatching the first two films whilst sick last week#I tweeted this out last week but felt it relevant to post here#fantastic beasts and where to find them#newt scamander#eddie redmayne#autism#actually autistic#tina goldstein#porpentina goldstein#katherine waterston#newtina#fantastic beasts: the crimes of grindelwald#fantastic beasts: the secrets of dumbledore#newt x tina#anti jk rowling#anti jkr#radfems dni#terfs dni
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REASONS WHY I HC BOOSTER GOLD WITH BPD
A RANT
First of all, I’ve been diagnosed with BPD so most of this is from my own experiences w BPD and projection,,
So starting off with this:
Booster Gold’s imposter syndrome without the success part!
He quite literally travelled back in time to become a superhero so he could escape the shithole of his old life + make everyone like him.
Or that he’s kind of struggled his entire life of wanting to be good enough but missing the mark so, so so many times and yet he keeps putting up superficial fronts around people he wants to seek approval from?
Also whenever I see him argue with Ted (especially in Superbuddies(??) I can’t help but feel like some of his outbursts feel reminiscent of my own splitting episodes?
Thinking about how in that comic Booster is extremely frustrated w Ted for maturing in my brain it’s because he feels like he’s being left behind,, and him saying the most underhanded shit and getting extremely offended when Ted says something equally as shitty back
Oh and also that Ted is quite literally his favorite person.
Booster dedicates a lot of time and effort to spending time with Ted or going through drastic measures to do shit for him like this
Also I rly like this panel because it’s very clear the way he views himself when he masquerades as nova for a while
These next few images are taken from my own personal listings I used to show my therapist! Yellow check mark is what I feel fits booster the most and the blue ones is just me lmao
Booster mirroring other people/beliefs/personality traits that he believes will get him the most acceptance and the constant need that he has to prove himself to people even though he doesn’t have to at all,,
And Booster being an extremely spontaneous and impulsive person!! Hence some of the utterly garbage shenanigans he somehow brainstorms up that ends up putting him and Ted in jail or has him nearly erasing himself from existence lmao
I feel like it’s important to mention his nightmares as well, like this one.
And his father being extremely abusive and abandoning Booster’s family as well. Childhood abuse/neglect is a big BIG factor in why BPD functions the way it does because distress tolerance is basically nonexistent and the responses to stress don’t really develop.
Ok that’s enough rambling for now
I would talk more about it but I’m tired and not rly in the mood to write a full fledged essay on this but remember that BPD is a spectrum and most of this is based off of my own experience w it (I left out a lot of information bc some of it is extremely personal) n that everyone may experience it differently
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This may sound really dumb of me, but can you explain asexuality/aromance (?) to me?
I know it exists and I believe it’s totally valid, but a part of me always feels like I can’t really be inclusive or use inclusive language when I don’t understand it, because I’m afraid that not understanding it might lead to miscommunication and me accidentally offending someone
And the last time I asked someone in person they got mad at me „because I should know, I’m part of the queer community“ but all I ever heard is that it’s a spectrum? Which I don’t really understand
The way you communicate makes you seem like such a nice person, so I thought this would be a good place to ask 🫣😅
I think this is the first time I've been told I see like a nice person, but this is a lovely way to round out ace week when I haven't managed much, so let's do this.
Anyway, the jerk who said you should just. Know things. Is rude. You have to learn things at some point. It is true that some things you can find ways of learning yourself, or that you should have perquisites or are expected to know things before x, y, or z, but that's also just not helpful, so.
So let's start with definitions: Aromanticism and Asexuality don't mean the same thing, but they're related concepts.
Asexuality: The trait of experiencing sexual attraction never, rarely, or only under certain circumstances.
Aromanticism: The trait of experiencing romantic attraction never, rarely, or only under certain circumstances.
Those last two are how it's a "spectrum": there's more than one possibly manifestation or asexuality or aromanticism, and those spectrum identities are often called "gray aromantic" "gray romantic" "gray sexual" gray asexual", etc.
However, those identities generally have more in common with people who never experience sexual attraction that people who don't fit into this spectrum, so they're included. If someone only experiences sexual attraction when certain criteria are met, that means the rest of the time they don't, and they may have only recently or rarely even experienced attraction and started to understand that experience. Etc.
The next part of where people tend to get tripped up is that they thing of attraction as "wanting" something, but that's really not what it is. It's more of a compass that indicates what direction where you want to go is.
We're going to reuse the very common donut metaphor here. I'm not a big fan of it, but it's helpful for this.
People think of wanting a donut as "Oh, I want this donut, let's go get one," because that's how most people end up with a donut (or a relationship). But there are also people who are offered a donut, aren't real sure they want one, and they look at it and go, "Actually, yeah, that donut looks good." And that would be specific circumstances met! A-spectrum!
Or, they're offered a trip for donuts and go, "Actually, yeah, I could really go for a Boston Creme." That's someone who maybe doesn't usually think about donuts, but now that they're considering donuts, they're experiencing a desire for a specific donut. A-spectrum!
Or, they're just like, "You know, a donut sounds good right now," but has no specific opinion on creme filled or jelly filled or glazed or iced or whatever the hell. They're just like, "Donut. Please a donut." That's someone who who wants a relationship, but doesn't feel attraction. But that doesn't make their desire for a donut, or their happiness having the darn donut, any less real. A-spectrum!
So, it's perfectly possible to want sex or romance and not be attracted to someone. The wanting is not the same as the specifics, and attraction is in the specifics.
However. It's also true the wanting and the specifics do go hand-in-hand, and for many a-spec people, they have no desire for sex or romance (or little). And the way society is currently structured is very hostile and dismissive of that. Hell, when I got this ask I was at a family event, and we were talking about my new apartment and the red color my living room is, and my grandmother made a comment about me maybe meeting a fireman.
Now, my parents and my siblings and I all sort of recoiled, because we know better. I don't want a fireman. I don't want an anybody. But that doesn't mean my relationships are less meaningful than sexual or romantic ones. I feel love and care for people in my life intensely, and they're precious people to me. I don't like the way society pushes those important parts of my life aside, and I don't like them being talked about in a way that sounds like they matter less, or they're less valuable, or they should be de-prioritized in favor of sex or romance.
And, sometimes, i just want to go through life for a while not thinking about either of those things, because they're not part of my own personal life at all, but my life is still full and rich and interesting.
Now, this was a quick 101/102 level introduction to the topics. There's much more to discuss around libido and romantic libido and zucchinis and qprs and different forms of attraction and squishes and on and on and on.
But I don't think that's what you want right now when you're first stepping into understanding the topics.
So I hope this helped you understand the ace and aro spectrums better.
Cheers!
#aromantic#asexual#actually asexual#asexy#asexuality#aromanticism#ace#aro#actually aromantic#aro tag#ace tag#queer#Ace Week 2023#Ace Week
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Suit Vlogger: Comeback
Channel Name: Swapsider99
Subscriber Count: 60,999 (+1498 within the last hour)
Aiden: Hello, guys! Welcome back to my channel, where I will showcase the freshest and coolest bodysuits in the market. I’m Swapsider99, and I am here with a new vlog after buying my latest bodysuit.
Aiden: If you are wondering why my last video disappeared, it’s because it got taken down. I may have overlooked a visible pack of meat during the editing process. I guess it was so huge that it set off NewTube’s alarms. Don’t worry. I will upload it back with a copious amount of blurring. There is also my ‘OnlyBods’ link below, where you can watch the unedited footage, as well as, the behind-the-scenes footage and a few NSFW shots.
Aiden: It’s fun wearing this suit while it lasts. As I said in the last video, this suit is on the cheaper end of the spectrum. While it looks heavenly, it did come with its array of problems. One, I don’t look the same way as before. They warned me about how rapidly my suit would age after use. It’s something about the faulty enzymes that preserve the bodysuit from decomposition. I still look like one hell of a stud, though.
Aiden: Too bad, cumming on this suit takes a lot of me compared to before. I’ll terribly miss this suit.
[Aiden opens the seam on his back and removes the bodysuit. He is naked, but his crotch is out of the video’s frame. Sweat covers his body entirely.]
Aiden: After the first one, I reminded myself not to wear the suit with clothes on. This may look like sweat, but it’s not. It’s the enzymes that connect you better with your bodysuit. It evaporates when exposed to light, but it does leave a stink on your body. If anyone’s wondering, it smells like my old college shower rooms. That place brings horrible yet arousing memories.
Aiden: Lucky for me, my subscriber count exploded after the first video. I can’t believe it myself. Just a few days ago, I only had my best friend as my subscriber. And now? There are sixty thousand of you watching, and it’s just getting higher. With that many subscribers, I got enough funds to buy another bodysuit before the first video got taken down. I’m excited to show you the MARTIN-20X model.
[Aiden pulls the bodysuit from the bag.]
Aiden: Ooh! This one is hairier than the last one. The MARTIN-20X model is still a bit low-end for the latest bodysuits in the market, but the salesman assured me that it’s better than this old skin.
[Aiden raises the old bodysuit to the camera]
Aiden: It has twice as many neuropathic junctions, and that means I get to feel the outside world twice as much. I thought the old bodysuit’s tactile sensations were already enough. I didn’t know it could get better. I also window-shopped in the better bodysuits, and those have more junctions than this one. Still, I got to be happy with this one.
Aiden: To describe the bodysuit, it’s as real as human skin. The hairs are soft to the touch, and it kind of tickles. Unlike the prior suit, I feel something warm from the skin's surface. They said it’s another function to preserve the suit from decomposition. There’s no power connected to the suit, though. I wonder where it’s getting the energy for the warmth. Hell! I could even use this suit as a blanket during the winter if it’s going to be this comfortable and warm.
Aiden: But I’m not reviewing a blanket, are we? [Aiden Laughs]. We’re reviewing a bodysuit, and they are supposed to be worn. I’m so excited to wear this skin.
[While Aiden is wearing the suit, his eyes dart to the camera as he talks.]
Aiden: According to the bodysuit’s manual, this bodysuit was based on several phenotypes of famous men. They didn’t say where, but I supposed some came from the porn industry. [Aiden’s eyes dart towards his blurred crotch]. If you know what I mean.
Aiden: For me, it reminds me of my neighbor when I was a horny college student. He stood as tall as his apartment door frame and built like a bull underneath the baggy sweat jacket he tends to wear. I could always recognize his distinct heavy footsteps whenever he came either from work or from the club with accompanying men and women wrapped in his arms. To my next-door neighbor, Mr. Derek, please know that the walls of our apartment are thin. To hear your moans and grunts every night was both heaven and hell. I spent so many sleepless nights wondering how pleased you are with the men and women you bring every night. Even now, I wish to hear those again. I guess I can when I moan with this bodysuit on.
[Aiden wore the bodysuit. He would occasionally stop and moan seductively as he touched his body.]
Aiden: It’s true. You don’t notice the difference in the tactile feedback unless you wore a better suit. I was numb and cold compared to before. But this? I’m on fire, baby! Fuck! I could feel the gasp of my breath. And look at these goosebumps! [Aiden lifts his arm to the camera] See? It’s as if I’m not wearing a bodysuit at all! And these muscles, jeez. They may not look defined, but the strength, it’s something you feel rather than see. Is this how you feel every day, Mr. Derek? I used to question where you’re getting the confidence to find someone to fuck with every day. I could see it clearly now.
[Aiden pulls the bodysuit’s mask over his head. He made sure to fit his ears in their proper holes and to align his eyes over the sockets. It was loose at the start, but it soon tightened around his head. He would have felt groggy but has already gotten used to it.]
Aiden: Test. Test one two. Since the last bodysuit was modeled after me, the voice wasn’t changed. It is different for this one. It’s a whole lot deeper – maybe, in the mid-baritone range. I’m not consciously doing it, but there’s a bit of a Southern drawl in my accent. It’s a surprise because the salesperson who sold me this suit didn’t say anything about an accent. Hell! I’m not complaining. My voice feels and sounds like dark butter running down my throat. I might have seduced a couple of watchers already.
[The scene cuts to Aiden walking around the house naked. This time, he made sure to blur every time his crotch got into the camera. Although, it was different for his OnlyBods webpage where his subscribers could see the full glory of his cock.]
Aiden: Not only am I strong, but I’m also quite tall too! Getting used to this height would take a while. As you can see, I’m bumping into stuff. I got the hang of walking after getting a close-up meeting with the floor several times. My hairy buttcheeks are still cherry red. Anyway, getting used to this body will take a few more hours. That is it for today’s vlog. If you reached the end of this video and still haven’t subscribed, please click the subscribe button, if you want to see more bodysuits. It’s me, Swapsider99! Signing out.
[Read the NSFW continuation at my Patreon]
[Read Part 1 here]
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Sissification - a toxic construction of femininity or getting off on outdated social constructs?
Becca here. 😀
First… I LOVE THAT YOU STARTED THIS DISCUSSION!!!! Thank you so much @youngchastity - who wrote to us (and tagged us in a post) for some healthy discussion around the sissification kink. We’ve definitely had a few things to say about it on the podcast, as have our guests. You can read his post, that started this conversation, here
Rather than speak for both of us at @kinkyintherealworld, I’m going to jump in and answer this from my point of view.
@youngchastity I love your thoughts on gender - I totally agree. I actually reblogged a post by @necromimetics the other day that said:
“can’t stop thinking about my friend’s cishet partner who said last night that he doesn’t think anyone is the same gender. god-tier take.”
And I agree - we’re all a wibbly-wobbly swirl of masculine, feminine, and everything in between energies, and everyone has their own unique blend. Trying to squash us into labels is lame as hell.
I like to think I am never one to kink shame (keeping it safe, sane and consensual), and in world where I (and many other women) want to smash the patriarchy, I may be a bit more sensitive to kinks that look down on femininity - or that’s how I have perceived it to date. As someone who has struggled with gender equality issues in real life (your capitalism comment made me give a disgruntled, but amused, snort), it’s hard to not knee jerk react and feel like I need to defend womanhood/femininity. There is still a power imbalance in the world, and equality is still a goal yet to be achieved, but upon dissection, is in the bedroom, playing with kinks, even a place we need to bring this battle? A question that has been raised to me, even before your message.
It’s funny, because I have actually had your very points discussed with me, last fall with my partner, Misty (who if you have read my personal tumblr is trans-personality who enjoys both sides of the gender spectrum fluidly) - we were on a road trip discussing the two episodes you made note of in your post, episode #16 and #19. And Misty, like you, felt we were missing the mark. S/he felt that in no way does sissification for the purpose of humiliation somehow degrade/make fun of/make lesser femininity. For all the same reasons you stated. S/he and I actually talked about doing a podcast about it, to dive more into the topic, Misty felt that strongly. It should be noted that Misty is NOT into sissification or feminization for the purpose of humiliation, and still she felt that we gave the sissification kink a bum rap.
Hearing her thoughts and yours, I think it is something that should be revisited and, for me personally, I need to take a closer look at why I find it uncomfortable.
Since you made such lovely points I want to try and address each one!
We’ve established that we both agree the trappings around what we consider to be masculine and feminine are made up (and ridiculous). I think, the kink we are talking about here is ultimately humiliation through outdated (but still most commonly accepted) societal norms. IF you get embarrassed about having those things stripped away, and “forced” into the opposite direction… good for you? I mean seriously, how fun is it to get off in weird and wonderful ways with someone who shares your kink from a slightly different perspective! The reality is, I believe, this isn’t hurting anyone. You want a person to lock up your dick, make fun of your little penis (your actual size is irrelevant), or put you in clothing that bends your mind with eroticism and makes you flustered with sexual need - awesome! Life is too short not to enjoy the kinks we have.
The bigger question, if I want to dig into the piece that makes me feel uncomfortable is, “Is there misogyny in the specific kink?” - and the answer to that, for me upon reflection, is no. Misogyny comes from the person performing it. So yeah, some kinky things are done with TONS of misogynistic intent… but that isn’t concentrated in one area. Those assholes are everywhere.
To me, feminization is never something that goes hand-in-hand with sissification. My partner feminized himself (their pronouns are all over the place), in a loving way. To empower the feminine in himself. He has often described it as blooming or becoming a butterfly - his higher form of being. So no humiliation to be found, for either of us on either end. I find it hot as fuck when he is all dolled up.
I haven't dipped my toes into the humiliation via feminization kink (...yet?), so it’s hard for me to wrap my dirty little mind around it.
Weirdly I do have a bimbofication kink for myself… sometimes. 😁 If I am in a particular mood for the fantasy. I have never found the right time/partner/energy to explore that. Am I feeling humiliation when I go there? I don’t think so…? More the need to feel desired, trophied (yes I made up that word), and used in a deeply submissive way. I’m not embarrassed about that. ;)
I too would be interested in hearing from women who enjoy humiliating others through feminization/sissification, and how they feel about it. Awesome point! 😀
Celebrating feminization! Now that is my jam! 💗 Give me a soft cute boy, and let me make him weak with wanting to be pretty and obedient for me. To me this is a huge mind shift - the key word “celebrating”, not shaming. Gosh, I could just sink into this topic like the perfect bubble bath. To me, this is a core element to gentle femdom. It is about making boys better… pretty, soft, sweet things that want to please - the D/s element being a key piece. The submissive to be absolutely loved and worshipped for their submission. No shame, not less than me, and certainly not shifting my own very feminine self. I love the feminine. I love to see it in men, and men embracing that side of themselves. Is this a form benevolent sexism? I don’t know. And more to the point, if I am engaging in it with my partners, writing about it on tumblr, and reblogging things that I enjoy around the topic, am I hurting anyone? Food for thought, but I am going to keep doing my thing. ;)
I feel like you can look at BDSM here, and for those who wish to criticize it, could for its dynamics. But that feels like a giant, whole other post.
Another thing you mentioned in this point was the strapon, and it’s use as a symbol of power. I have never seen it that way. To me, it is my soul penis… and I love being able to be inside my partner(s). It is an act of love, and makes me want to bring them to amazing places of pleasure (while I get off too). I really don’t enjoy the pictures of women wearing strapons who look like they want to punish their partner with it. But that’s just me. I know lots of people must enjoy that because there is a shit ton of porn that looks that way.
Playing with gender. I like that - and I do it! I love being able to put on a penis!! I really enjoyed trying my hand at Drag King make up and going out as a boy (I’ll post my picture again). I LOVE seeing boys in make up and fucking gender norms right out the window. You said it in your post - gender is made up and stupid. So yeah, let’s play with it, and maybe even break the molds! Though then you’ll have to find something else to get embarrassed and turned on about. ;)
Our kinks are about orgasms and pleasure. Let’s enjoy them.
In the end, it is all about intent and the people doing it. Not about the kinks themselves. People who want there to be an imbalance of power between women and men will keep doing mean spirited things to keep that nightmare alive - in the streets and in the sheets.
I feel like I have answered your points (I may have jumped around a bit), and I don’t feel the need to argue any of them. Misty had already shone a light on where I may have not been seeing the bigger picture.
I am SO HAPPY you wrote us a message, and that you took the time to write out your thoughts (that can be read here). So sorry it took me a while to see it and respond!
I am always up for conversation and debating (with kindness) any of the points.
I definitely feel this topic should be a podcast. Any chance you'd like to be on it @youngchastity? ;)
Hugs!
Becca
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Hi, I'm aroace. you "do not ship canon aroace char" is deeply misleading. I shouldn't explain it to you but aromanticism and asexuality are spectrums. Where Alastor falls on that spectrum depends on how who writes him. He can be comfortable with a particular "messed up" idea of "romance" that does not align with the normal concept of romance. He can be into kinks/fetishes without being into traditional sex - and he will still be ace. Hell, he's a serial killer, and guess how high is the percentage of sexual deviants among serial killers.
Grey aromanticism and grey asexuality are a fucking thing and it's genuinely a shame fellow aroaces try to shame those of us who are on the grey part of the spectrum into thinking that aroace characters cannot be shipped. Yes... they can. Just like aroace people can be in romantic and sexual relationships of non-traditional kind and still associate themselves with the labels.
Comparing homosexuality, often seen as non-spectral (though many people can argue and we should Not Be Like This About Labels), with spectrums of aromantic and/or asexual attraction is deeply misguided. It makes me wonder if you are fully aware what you're talking about.
*I've been in the fandom since the pilot and I never heard about Viv confirming his aromanticism, just his asexuality. If new information dropped, I'd love to hear it - but if he is just ace, you guys should now be assigning aromanticism to him just because. Romantic asexuals exist, it's normal.
Bestie… how about you check the post you’re quoting?
This is for all aroace characters. Not just some random ass demon (??) from a show I’ve never seen but people seem to be obsessed with…
Sure if they’re called aroace SPEC then go ahead and speculate… but if they’re called AROACE then well kinda different situations lol…
it’s also a different situation if someone is posting shit like “IF I EVER SEE YOU SHIP (canon gay man) WITH (women character) IM BLOCKING YOU SO HARD” and then turn around and say “AROACE IS A SPECTRUM IM NOT BUT OTHERS ARE AND I SAY THIS!!!”
I’ve also stated multiple times that I have far less of an issue with it then some of those posts might make you believe. I’m pretty sure I did a post somewhere about my “here’s how you don’t fuck up” rules.
I can’t quote it but I know some highlights:
-if your aspec you can ship, I know your not going to be gross about it (hopefully)
-acknowledgment of aspec identity in the fic no matter the contents
-if someone is written as sex-repulsed; don’t do the opposite. Same with romance-repulsed
Sincerely,
An aegosexual/aromantic pansexual, who’s been doing this shit for about 2 years now and known about aspec identity/advocated for, for far longer
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not to be too euphoric on main, but astrology is also phenomenologically similar to other new age grifts-turned-identity-markers that also have a deeply reactionary bent, that I can’t help but wonder how many people start out on the neopagan astrology lefty side of the spectrum and end up Qanon antivaxers who think flouride is turning our children trans. there’s a continuity of thought there that goes beyond just susceptibility to bad ideas with little evidence (and a lot of confirmation bias), and includes not just anti-intellectualism but intellectual as a politically suspect category. the details of that suspicion do differ--the intellectual as tagged with properties like authoritarian, hegemonic, patriarchal, heteronormative vs the intellectual as tagged with properties like decadent and marxist--but both train a reflexive response to critique as, frequently, being born from a place of profit motive, of cynical self-interest, as not requiring any kind of thoughtful engagement.
there’s a woman on tiktok whose videos i run across occasionally who talks about her experience being wrenched out of the “crunchy mom” bubble and trying to have a more balanced and healthy approach to interacting with the world since; a big part of what seemed to make the whole alternative health and wellness space attractive to her in the first place seemed to be this deep-seated craving for purity, both physical and ideological, for not only ways of living which offered moral reassurance, but for systems of knowledge that offered that as well. and the thing that actually jolted her out of her complacency was hanging out with her other crunchy mom friends and one day one of them just casually rattles of some insanely nasty transphobic bullshit that makes her hair stand on end, like she was expected to agree as a matter of course, and she realized, oh shit, these people are actually insane. and i’m one of them.
i think we forget--which is surprising, in an era where the slightest bit of validation of people with only somewhat repellent beliefs by people with absolutely vile beliefs sends once moderate or even progressive public figures running into the arms of right-wing lunatics--that our social context, and the beliefs we choose to cultivate and focus on, can really deeply shape or re-shape our worldview. given that fact, we should care if the things we believe are true or not! that makes truth-seeking all the more urgent. it also makes me deeply suspicious and not a little hostile to systems of knowledge which elide the difficult complexities of human experience in favor of predetermined categorizations, or don’t support critical examinations of our own flaws, or seems to encourage surrendering our agency in the world in favor of impersonal explanations about an immutable nature shaped by distant cosmic forces.
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ATTATION PLEASE!!!
To all the utter fucking ASSHOLES, who think bullying is okay, fine, funny, etc:
What the FUCK are you thinking?!
Y’all seriously think that bullying people just because their brains are different, is okay? FUCK NO!
You think it’s FUNNY, that sometimes people act different than what is considered ‘normal’? The hell is wrong with you! Don’t you get it?
“more than 75,000,000 people, according to researched conducted by the CDC. 1 in every 100 children are diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder.”
SO WHAT THE FUCK.
“Approximately 6.8% (366.3 million) adults worldwide have symptomatic ADHD”
AND THATS JUST ADULTS DAMNIT^
“The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that globally 1 out of every 4 people will be impacted by mental illness at some point in their lives.”
ONE IN FOUR FUCKING PEOPLE
This shit needs to stop.
You bully others, because they think different?
Because they act, or maybe look different?
It’s hard enough for them to live in a world, where other people that aren’t like them, don’t, can’t, or choose not to understand how they feel, and who they are.
Some of these people, have shit households.
Some of them, may not have a home at all.
Some may not be able to find help or medication for it.
Some of them go ignored.
Un-diagnosed.
Left to rot.
Made fun of.
Pushed around.
Hit, around.
Hate crimes, even.
Don’t believe me?
“Disability hate crime is a form of hate crime involving the use of violence against people with disabilities. This is not only violence in a physical sense, but also includes other hostile acts, such as the repeated blocking of disabled access[1] and verbal abuse.[1] These hate crimes are associated with prejudice against a disability, or a denial of equal rights for disabled people (as this is a form of prejudice). It is viewed politically as an extreme form of ableism, or disablism.[2] This phenomenon can take many forms, from verbal abuse and intimidatory behaviour to vandalism, assault, or even murder. Although data are limited[3] studies appear to show that verbal abuse and harassment are the most common.[4] Disability hate crimes may take the form of one-off incidents, or may represent systematic abuse which continues over periods of weeks, months, or even years. Disabled parking places, wheelchair access areas and other facilities are frequently a locus for disability hate. Instead of seeing access areas as essential for equity, they are seen instead as 'special treatment', unjustifiable by status, and so a 'reason' for acting aggressively.[5] Denial of access thus demonstrates a prejudice against equal rights for disabled people; such actions risk actual bodily harm as well as limiting personal freedom.”
^it may be a long read. But damnit.
People suffer already, and this isn’t scraping the TOP of my anger towards it, the in-humanity of it all.
But then again, with how common this absolute SHIT is, who says ‘humanity’ even exists? No one lives up to it anymore! This is just a part of it!
I’m sick and tired of seeing the common mold others put these people through, and it’s not even acceptable.
Not something anyone should ignore.
#vel rants/info dumps#I’m Fuckin tired off the bus#I’m done#this is utterly ridiculous#garbage#fucking a#autism#adhd#mental issues#idfk what to tag this
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I was wondering if you had thoughts about how Ice and Mav's politics don't fully align with their actions? There was a post where you said Ice's politics are more socially liberal than Mav's but Mav is also the one who goes out to La Jolla to hit on guys before Ice, and later again when he's broken up with Ice, but Ice only goes out with women out of fear for his honor or whatever. Same with their respective thoughts on feminism, with Mav's mild respect for Charlie (telling Ice not all women fit the stereotype) but later Ice is the one who sends Juno to Mav's Top Gun class without telling him she's a woman and Ice has a respectful friendship with Juno. I think you said Ice is vaguely on the ace-aro spectrum (demi-homoromantic) which is a sort of fascinating irony that he doesn't have the words for it whereas Mav is the one with the theories about Ice's sexuality. Though with their hypocrisies and inconsistencies this all just feeds into their characterizations of the fact that they keep divorcing their actions from their spoken words from their identities.
okay going to take this point by point
1. yes i have addressed their politics in relation to their actions before, so maybe read this post and this post before you read this one, just to see where my other thoughts line up
2. gay republicans and conservatives do exist (at the very least certainly republicans and conservatives who have gay sex in secret)
3. before maverick is a political actor he is a human being, and the characterization that we are primarily given for him is that he is impulsive and reckless and doesn’t think through his actions. As ive written about many times before—from a story construction standpoint, his thoughtlessness is his number one most important character trait. He is both thoughtlessly dangerous (his hero’s “fatal flaw;” he can’t stop himself from making bad decisions) and thoughtlessly brilliant (the navy’s best and most daring and heroic pilot). He does what he wants without thinking about it; and he makes excuses and hollow promises whenever that plan doesn’t work out (“I know better than that. It will never ever happen again;” [it happens again] “I’m not gonna let you down. I promise.” [goose dies shortly thereafter]). His thoughtless impulsiveness overrides everything else. Maybe the act of having gay sex (to address your “he gets fucked in La Jolla before ice” point) is politically subversive, but for Maverick’s thoughtless character that we are shown in Top Gun, the most subversive possible thing would be to LABEL the gay sex and think through the consequences of it. To call a spade a spade and call himself gay or bi or queer or whatever. That would be the most subversive (and with mav, entirely unbelievable imo) possible thing. That takes conscious effort of thought, something maverick is near-incapable of doing. As long as he can get away with it without thinking about it, he’s politically in the clear, with regards to his character & character arc. If that makes sense. “Don’t think. Just do.” That’s literally his motto lmfao. He represents thoughtless action as an archetype; his politics come secondary to his desires
4. Their “respective thoughts on feminism” are divided into two camps: 1. “Professional as required by the law” and 2. “Sex pest mode.” They’re naval officers in the 1980s. Whether republican or democrat, that’s kind of par for the course. How men treat women can be a performance to other men. Any respect i made them show towards women had broader, more metatextual “need to move the conversation/story from A to B” reasoning behind it. See the first post I linked for much more on that.
5. i never said ice was on the ace/aro spectrum, or if i did i DEFINITELY meant it sarcastically. That could not be further from what i believe. This isn’t something I’ve ever discussed on this blog before, but a MASSIVE part of the philosophical discussion I’ve been trying to moderate within this project over the last year is the question— “do labels even work with characters under these very specific and extraordinarily extreme conditions and societal pressures?” It’s a question I took from my time studying early American history—the contexts of certain environments, and I would definitely count the elite officer ranks of the navy in the 90s and 2000s as one of these certain environments, simply Are Not Conducive to the easier (path of least resistance maybe) ways we civilians handle sexuality and friendship and trauma. There are so many variables and external and internal pressures within an environment like the upper ranks of career navy officers that sexual orientation labels lose all nuance and accuracy. I don’t think Ice (as i have written him) is gay. I don’t think he’s straight. I don’t think he’s bi. I think he’s an unlabelable product of too many variables for labels to have any effect on how he is perceived. Which, in our society built around labels and categories, is admittedly difficult to wrestle with. But doesn’t make it any less worth wrestling with.
6. Yes, ice and mav’s hypocrisy is the linchpin of the entire story.
They’re both trying to have their cake (“honor” and moral superiority based on the harmful traditional subjective morals arbitrated by elite navy officership) and eat it too (a fulfilling relationship with the love of their lives). & the point is that they cant. they have to settle for one.
#adam & eve can either stay in eden or eat from the tree of knowledge. but the moral authority told them not to eat; so they can’t have both#or—they can have both but they can’t ACKNOWLEDGE having both; they have to keep it a secret even from themselves. that way it’s not sin.#(the navy is ice/mav’s religious institution as i keep repeating)#re: ice and labels.#like i am both joking and not joking when i say he’s mavericksexual#simply because maverick represents both the guilt Ice must deal with re: the death of a friend#AND the recklessness that would inspire him to realize (in the actionable sense of the word) the full extent of his sexuality#no one else can do that. he and maverick were made for each other like that.#same thing where ice is the only one who can legitimize maverick in the eyes of their overbearing institution.#they’re made for each other in a way that imo transcends sexuality and labels.#I’m not going to touch the politics of ‘demi-‘ labels because i know people feel very strongly about it#and you come to me for Top Gun not necessarily my thoughts on modern identity politics#but suffice to say i don’t believe either ice or mav are demi anything.#they’re just guys. they’ve killed people and killed with each other and killed for each other. they don’t need labels. just let them be#tom iceman kazansky#pete maverick mitchell#top gun#icemav#top gun maverick#asks#edts notes#thanks for the ask! hope it isn’t coming off as aggressive or argumentative#* argumentative yes. you can argue with me.#but the labeling issue has been on my mind since DAY ONE & influenced much of how i wrote the story#human beings are so much more complex than most labels give us credit for
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