#mor writes

i have thoughts about choso okay

cw: smut (18+ mdni), implied oral (m!receiving), handjob, first-time boner, virgin!choso, not-virgin!reader, extreme sensitivity, being a human is confusing, idk man

.7k words | masterlist

Thinking about Choso and how strange it must feel to be alive for the first time but also 150 years old and oh so powerful. I headcanon that, prior to meeting Yuji, he doesn’t need and therefore doesn’t actually know anything about most human things (like sleep, food, sex, etc.), but the more time he spends with Yuji - with you - the more his body starts requiring human needs, and the more he realizes he doesn’t know as much as he thought he did. 

Fascinated by the idea that he has just an idea (or maybe half an idea) of how things he’s never experienced work — like it's there somewhere, but inaccessible in some way. Maybe it sits just outside his normal scope of knowledge, not quite available to reach, or maybe all the pieces are there, he’s just not quite able to connect them until someone tells him. He knows things in half pictures or snippets of sentences, but seems to always be missing the full context. 

Poor guy gets a boner for the first time and just doesn’t know what’s happening or what to do with himself — it’s too uncomfortable to ignore but hurts and is too intense to touch. He lays there for so long trying desperately to figure out, to remember, what’s happening to him and what he’s supposed to do about it. He considers asking someone for help, but how could he do that? He may not know much about humans, but he at least knows you don’t just talk about your body - especially not down there - with other people. 

He resolves to figure this out himself. What does he know, and how can that help him here? He knows humans can procreate — that’s sex, right? What does sex actually mean? It involves this part of his body, right? Is that what’s happening? No, sex involves another person. Something else? Something different but related?

Thoughts race through his mind faster than he can comprehend them. He spends a long time agonizing over his predicament, half toggling between trying to calm his body down or hoping it eases on its own and doing the only thing he can think of to make it stop — attempting to simulate sexual intercourse by himself, dragging his hand up and down his aching shaft. He never gets very far, though, before an intense, agonizing feeling coils in his stomach and he suddenly can’t breathe fully and has to stop. 

He lets out a strained breath as he further racks his brain for something, anything, that can help him. He’s so lost in his head he doesn’t notice that you’re in the room, staring at him splayed there with his pulsing cock out, a small apologetic smile gracing your face. It occurs to you that you’ve never considered that Choso might not know anything about human sex or human sex drives. Poor guy must be having a really hard time, huh?

Choso finally realizes you’re in the room when you start walking toward him, cooing something about a “poor baby” with an unreadable smile on your face. He starts to panic, tries to stuff his aching cock back into his pants and apologize that you had to see that, with what you’re now realizing are slightly tear-filled widened eyes. You reach him first, stopping him with a gentle hold of his wrists before he can manage it. You look him softly in the eyes. His brain tells him to look away, be ashamed. He can’t look anywhere but at you. 

“Relax, it’s okay. Let me help you,” you murmur. He doesn’t breathe as you gently grab his hand and move it, replacing it with your own wrapped around his thick cock instead. His breath hitches as you squeeze gently, testing out just how much he can take. He hisses as you slowly start moving your hand, carefully watching his expression. After a particularly rough drag of your hand over his dick, his face contorts and his eyes shut as he lets out a whimper.

“That’s it, just relax. I’ve got you,” you purr as you’re leaning down to take his cock in your mouth and oh is Choso gone, gone, gone —

I recently made a post summarizing my feelings on the subject of therianthropy as a mental framework. I think the post is as concise as I can possibly make my feelings on the matter, but I recognized that it is a little dense or perhaps confusing so I felt that a longer explanation was in order. Here is that explanation. Read time: 3-5 mins

Rowan cut himself of as he pictured it. Dark and sinister, inky nightmares. Like the Valg, but he was utterly Fae. The king had never encountered anything like it in all of his years. As much as he hated bringing back the memories, the male’s magic reminded him of Maeve.

Aelin, however, was distant - peering out of their open windows towards the far tower where their guests were staying. She didn’t seem worried in the slightest. Just lost in thought.

“Fireheart?” Rowan tried. Thankfully, Aelin met his gaze. He knitted his eyebrows in worry. Please say something.

Thanks for the question! And sorry that my answer is so long. I like to yap and this has been on my mind for a while. This is coming from anglophone USAmerican observations, for the record, I don’t and can’t speak in absolutes on this issue as it applies to other countries and cultures.

But in therian and non-therian spaces both, there is a general tendency to characterize prey animals as passive (innocent, helpless, harmless) and predators as active (hunters, killers). And this notion is harmful and unhelpful across the board, but especially, in my opinion, when it comes to large ungulate species.

Most of us (USAmericans) are extremely alienated from the beef, dairy and pork industries, and are unlikely to interact closely with cows or pigs. Given the general cost and land requirements of equestrian hobbies, the same goes for horses. Deer are somewhat present in the collective consciousness but usually as pests or a road hazard or a hunting season. The fact that these animals are capable of violent self defense is obscured, almost on purpose, in a land of friendly milk advertisements and Disney cartoons. You don’t want to think about Bambi goring someone, do you? That might make you buy less merch.

And to be fair, I do think it goes deeper than that. Humans anthropomorphize reflexively. Predator species are often more charismatic and their relative rarity and ecological importance makes the study and documentation of individuals much easier. Predators are usually independent, and when they’re not, they often exist in family groups, lifestyles that are not only approachable but downright appealing to the USAmerican mindset. These animals are framed as intelligent (as it relates to a human way of thinking) and active ecological forces that keep prey animals (necessarily passive in comparison) in check.

So the prey species become largely secondary. Since humans are at the top of the food chain, it’s difficult to properly conceptualize life for animals that are predated upon. They eat (mindlessly), they reproduce (mindlessly), and they are killed (mindlessly). If humans have deigned them worthy of conservation, they become not just mindless, but sin-less creatures uniquely devastated by climate change or habitat loss (a characterization that also hurts predatory species). Their passivity is a virtue in need of protection and, if it’s not obvious, the idea that these animals are as equally capable of killing as they are of dying sort of throws a wrench in the whole well-meaning paradigm.

Elk and bison injure people annually at Yellowstone, and still humans wander up to them as if that outcome is a complete impossibility. And yes, the public is largely uneducated on animal behaviors, but I hear a lot less about tourists toddling off towards bears and wolves, don’t you? It’s like that gif of that biker guy holding his arm out to a horse clearly displaying every “fuck off” warning sign in the book, and the guy gets bit. It’s not just that he doesn’t know horse body language, it’s as if he can’t conceptualize the idea that a horse might feel threatened and lash out and hurt him. Because horses don’t do that. They’re literally nice.

Obviously, prey species will defend themselves, violently, explosively and “no holds barred” if necessary, because the other option is usually death. And this defense, by design, will fuck up humans or any other predatory species.

Granted, prey “rage” is an unhelpful anthropomorphization of this behavior as well, but in my defense I was talking about myself.

I’ve talked before on this blog about how I value kindness and compassion, and partly why I value it so highly because it is often against my nature entirely and is something I have to actively work at. If I feel I have been wronged or hurt my first instinct is the kind of kick-your-lights-out, kill-or-be-killed reaction an elk has when a wolf is latched onto its hock. I have to get them back, and it has to hurt.

I feel like a decade ago it was more the norm for those in the community to have a spiritual or religious belief about their otherkinnity and now it feels (again no hard numbers here, just personal sentiment) as though a medicalized view is far more the norm. One might be otherkin because of autism, physical disability, or another diagnosis. There’s nothing wrong with this line of thought of course but it has the habit— like all forms of medicalization— of framing nonhumanity as abberant or non normative. It becomes “wong” in some way, even if that isn’t intended to be a moral judgement. Even a nonspecific psychological reading of one’s otherkinnity usually gestures at a vague quirk of the brain.

Needy Natsu Headcanons

Natsu Dragneel x Reader

been thinking about Natsu who ignores his needs for so long, but he finally breaks and comes to you for help

cw: smut (18+ mdni), oral (f!receiving), biting, multiple rounds, creampie, unprotected sex, hurt/comfort (if you squint?)

.85k words | masterlist

I think there’s a belief that because I later went to doctors and got proper diagnoses for these issues, I should have to acknowledge that my disabilities came from a scientifically verifiable source and that I should refer to them by their diagnostic markers. There’s concern, even, that in having held to my beliefs or in continuing to hold to them, I am potentially making my problems worse.

I know that this concern comes from a genuinely decent place, but I can’t help but feel as though it is deeply uninformed about the treatment one receives in medical spaces as soon as you’re chronically ill or fall under a more stigmatized diagnosis. If all you’ve experienced is “normative” doctors visits, the above perspective makes sense, but it quickly falls apart when you’ve lived anything else.

Compare the treatment I received for my generalized anxiety disorder to the Herculean task it was to even receive a diagnosis for my physical ailments:

For the former, I was given a diagnosis promptly, treated with very little—if any—stigma throughout the process and received medication as soon as I said I wanted to try it. When I had a negative reaction, I switched to a different SSRI with no issue, and then, years later, when I decided to try and taper off of my meds just to see if I could function to a level I was happy with without them, I received no push back. I even told my therapist I was getting off of them for “no particular reason” and no one batted an eye.

For my physical issues, I went years without anyone even taking my symptoms seriously. I had chronic heart palpitations, but because none ever showed up during the testing windows, I was told it was anxiety and that I should stop drinking caffeine. After I ended up in the ER, I was given a tentative diagnosis that took another year or more to officialize because of the complete lack of specialists. When my specialist moved, I had to find another one in a different state and go through the (literally painfully) rigorous process of being diagnosed again because the new doctors, for whatever reason, didn’t trust anyone but themselves to verify my conditions.

But now I have a diagnosis, there will be medications, a treatment plan, a verifiable cause for my symptoms, yes? Well, lol. Lmao. There were options, but I was dismissed and treated with suspicion when they didn’t work for me, or often times made me worse. And when the doctor’s short list of ideas ran out, I was basically given a shrug and told to get out, all while being chastised for utilizing things like mobility aids that actually made my life livable.

Never once was I offered an explanation or cause that had any more substantial grounding or had more of an impact on my life and treatment plan than “was supposed to be a deer.”

And even if that wasn’t true, even if any sort of divergence from the medically acceptable narrative was a “problem,” would I not still have the right to do it?

It’s not uncommon for those who do not experience any kind of disability to believe that the life of a disabled person should be spent infinitely in the pursuit of health. Any action taken that falters from this pursuit becomes both moral failing and incomprehensible to someone who is able bodied. If you were disabled, wouldn’t you do anything to get better?

This belief, of course, hinges on very particular ideas about “health” and “better.” Some of the treatments I was prescribed hurt me. They made my life more difficult. Is that “healthy”? Is that “better”? Is living your life without ever making an “unhealthy” choice really living?

The fact is that you are not on the side of disabled people if your advocacy turns to (patronizing) condemnation as soon as we do something you don’t like or that makes you uncomfortable. Could identifying so deeply as nonhuman make things “worse” for me? Sure, maybe. Maybe even it did at one point. But it should still be up to me. I should still be allowed the dignity of risk, and I certainly shouldn’t be told by strangers that what I’m doing isn’t good for me.