#these are normal and average experiences
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not to be dramatic but i’d rather kms than have [thing]friend partner alts used on me.
#apl things#platonic averse#posts that are funny to me#i am serious though. the thought makes me feel sick#these are normal and average experiences#trust me
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What’s the deal with purity culture?
Honestly, dude, I'm not the person to ask. I wasn't raised in it, despite being raised in 7+ churches across the Southern U.S.
I don't know enough about it to think much about it, especially when so many people who revile "purity culture" are just ex-vangelicals talking about the basic Christian sexual ethic of no sex before marriage.
#I was much more negatively affected by secular hypersexuality than I was by an amorphous (to me) 'purity culture'#if I relied solely on my own experience I'd say the whole purity culture uproar is a bunch of people erasing the context of good ideas#or acting like obvious cults are a microcosm of the average Christian experience#but I know my experience is not the only one out there and there ARE 'normal' churches with dysfunctional and legalistic views of sex#x
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literally going INSANE thinking about murderbot and under pressure by queen it’s like THE murderbot song ever to me especially the bridge. i’m rolling around and screaming. mbs capacity for love is so crazy despite all its claims that it doesn’t really care except for it’s closer friends. like it loves people who are practically strangers and random bot pilots and it puts in so much effort to protect clients (friends. it won’t say it but friends) that it has known for like 1 day (ex. the cracker wrapper in the sink crew. it was so sad it couldn’t do anything to save them from their contracts and it keeps me awake at night) and AGHRJHGHRTR. i’m specifically going so absolutely bonkers thinking abt the lyric “love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves” bc of THREE AND ART. i love thinking about how mb knows deep down that even if it says it’s not a person that can’t be true bc that would mean that three isn’t a person and ART isn’t a person and it KNOWS that’s not right. mbs self perception has been so fundamentally altered both by its love for others and other’s love for it and AHHHHHRHEHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT IF I SAILED AWAY!!!!!! ough my thoughts about this are so scrambled and dumb but i wanted to share and i hope u can go insane with me also. i dream of an alternate timeline in which murderbot is adapted to a beautifully animated show and i can make an under pressure amv that changes my life

#forgive me for the lack of structure or real thoight in this post i’m sick and don’t know how to articulate this#average murderbot fan experience though i fear#i love these books and am very normal about them. so normal in fact#tmbd#murderbot#general wiklm!!
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the mechanisms on shuffle is a fever dream because you’ll go from accidentally marrying a robot, to incredible amounts of arson, to a poly relationship getting drunk, to summoning yog-sotthoth
#the mechanisms#the mechs#i’m so normal about them#(lying through my teeth)#average mechanisms shuffle experience
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man who can literally read minds but can't conceive of someone genuinely enjoying his company 😬 I did most of this with act one of GC in mind but I couldn't resist doing a little bonus Ilya from later in the story lmao
original template by kogoyun, I did slice it up a bit because trying to view tall images on desktop is hell
#ghost city#maksim girard#artbyrom#literally my first time designing or drawing those other three characters gdhfdhdg#I had a pretty clear mental image of Callahan because he's so normie#but Vartan and I had to brainstorm everything we had independently imagined about Violet up to this point and Strikeout was like ?????#that's a voice on a phone man idk#also the 'what they think vs what they are' section was such an interesting thought experiment#not just for quantifying his ABYSMAL self esteem but also like#the way he underestimates his combat ability but OVERestimates his physical strength#which are kind of tied to the same thing: he knows his mods are designed for combat but he's never actually tested their upper limits#so he doesn't really know the full extent of what he could do in a combat scenario if pushed to extremes. it's more than he estimates#BUT he also doesn't know if there's a point where injury/exhaustion would outpace the inhibitor's ability to shield him from their effects#he conflates his agility/resilience/ability to ignore pain with physical strength#and doesn't consider that without all that he's really just like. a guy with a relatively active lifestyle#but then there's also the fact that he's pretty sure he has a normal average understanding/valuation of 'right vs wrong'#and then you dig a little bit and realize he thinks killing someone is a neat efficient way to resolve most conflicts :|#ehem. anyway. can you tell the OC Brain is coming back in full force
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picard consistently hitting the white guy smile 😐 emote every time he has to interact with children is one of my favorite running bits
#average experience of being great at your job up until there's a child in your path#bro please at least smile like a normal person 😭😭 if i can do it so can you king#star trek#my posts#tng#picard
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heavy is sleeping and medic has been standing over him in the dark holding a scalpel for the past half an hour wanting to slit his throat just to see how he would react but hasnt done it yet because hes not sure if respawn is on right now or not and if thats not real friendship then i dont know what is
#medic has normal average guy with insomnia experiences#i could have killed you but i havent#whatever#tf2 medic#tf2 heavy#sorry if you follow me for normal posts except not really#the doc is in#edit: im deleting the ship tags on this because...#and making it platonic#i dont care
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oh btw i am fully caught up on 911 and i have restarted it already. i also have probably 30 buddie ao3 tabs in safari rn. and maybe 200 edits saved on tiktok. all in the span of a month and a half. haha. i Might be obsessed??
#average adhd experience#i’m normal right#right??#buddie canon 2025 i say as they drag me back into my rubber room#911#buddie#madney#henren#bathena#911 abc
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One single fancy man gets home and wonders why his allies are still awake so goddamn late.
#ffxiv#concept#gpose#adventurer zenos#zenos yae galvus#I like giving him fancy suits for some of his sets and realized the new dungeon hat actually goes pretty well with it#he hears his friends scurrying around after midnight#all you hear is a very stern “go to bed” three corridors down#i will forever love the thought that without battle lust hes just kinda a normal fuckin dude tbh#quiet and a bit antisocial but certainly not eccentric (kinda) about most average things#I do also want to work on a mechanic outfit of some kind for him- maybe fixing some sort of large machine or vehicle- too#local man has to fight to fend off the bored eepy#I think adventurer zenos would get really wary once hes used to not doing it- about napping or sleeping for too long#recovering apathetic man experiences general FOMO for the first time and hates it forever
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why did he say that..
from: HIT PARADER, April 1989.
#mine#most normal sentence to have come out of bret michaels' mouth...#average m*tley cr*e experience.#bret michaels#poison#cc deville#bobby dall#rikki rockett#motley crue#poison band#80s glam#80s metal#glam metal#hair metal#80s rock#rock n roll#hit parader#absurdism
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How come the only way some people can agree that trans men r oppressed is by basically calling us women. Or at least completely different and separate from cis men. “Of course trans men face hardships bc they’re never seen as men!!” Ok the way I am treated socially in many situations (not all) has gotten worse the more I pass as a cis man. A lot of people’s discrimination towards trans men is Because we look like men.
Yes trans men who don’t “pass” have unique obstacles but so do trans men who have the option to be stealth. All u are doing is reminding us that u think trans men are women, until they grow a beard at which point they are “just as bad” as cis men
#yall always have to throw cis men under the bus abt it too#’trans men have it bad bc all cis men hate them’ like im sorry if thats ur experience. it is not mine#and I say this as someone who has experienced violence at the hands of cis men. the Average cis man is normal abt me being trans#mine#txt#transexual#trans
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I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world. I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world. I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world. I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world. I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world. I love having autism because it gives me a unique way of experiencing the world.
#disability#disabled#autism#autistic#affirmations#i genuinely love my autistic self but#sometimes i just want to be normal. sometimes i want to feel what it would be like to have an average brain#oh my god oh my god oh my god#i need to keep reminding myself that this is an integral part of who i am#and that it's just how my brain is structured#so i don't wind up forgetting and starting to hate myself more again#but god it's so hard#meltdown#autistic things#autistic experiences#autistic community#autistic meltdown#melting down#disability rant#young and disabled#rant in tags#affirmation#vent in tags
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I see art on pinterest of two women stabbing each other and save it in my "wlw" folder
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philza wants what pol has (a complete immunity to lore)
#average phil day: log on and experience the horror for 7 hours straight then log off#average pol day: log on and work on the movie studio#do normal minecraft things like mine and farm and trade with villagers#sometimes hang out with your neighbors who are somehow stuck in the survival horror genre#then go back to your calm life sim experience#living the dream#he’s like the janitor with headphones in completely oblivious to the havoc happening in the background#qsmp#qsmp polispol#polispol#qsmp philza#philza#posts from the ocean#qsmp liveblog
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HEY SO I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS SMUT OR NOT NEITHER OF THEM ARE GETTING OFF TO THIS BUT I KINDA AM ANYWAYS TW STANCEST TW MISCARRIAGE TW ABO TW MISCOMMUNICATION TW SEQUEL TO THIS
He woke up covered in sweat, his sister's snoring covering the loud calling of gulls prowling over the streets. He kept his eyes closed, already feeling the twisting in his stomach but resolutely ignoring it until throwing up was unavoidable.
Stan hung onto him like a sloth held onto a branch - the simile even more fitting with his recent weight loss. What little Stan had nagged him to eat always just came right back up again. It made the slight distension in his stomach even more prominent - though for now, Ford didn't have to see it, not with Stan clinging to as much of his lankier form as she could get in her grasp. She always insisted he sleep in her bunk now, and the thought of clambering down his bunk's ladder kept him from arguing. She didn't even seem bothered that every morning she would wake up when Ford had to get up for the puke bowl Ma was still looking for. It was obscenely domestic, every morning she ran her fingers through his hair while he hurled and then she snuck to the bathroom to rinse it out so no one would ask - always cooing and hugging and clinging like a leach while he was sick.
His stomach cramped hard enough for his body to seize up - but his mouth stayed dry, so he continued to pretend he could sleep in until a reasonable hour.
Stan had woken up, her snores turned to low purrs, not letting him go - never letting him go, like he was only hers. If he moved, she would let go, if he asked, she would let go, but would it really count? Or would she just go back to clinging the second he wasn't actively telling her not to?
He knew what she wanted from him. She was just an alpha, in the end. Sweat collected on his skin where she was latched to him, looking so content and comfortable against the outline of his ribs. Once it was gone he wouldn't need to continue this - this farce. She wasn't his wife, she was his idiot sister, he refused to be less than her just because they had been reckless one time, just because for once he thought it was okay to let his guard down around an alpha.
Another sharp cramp in his stomach had him curling around Stan like a dead insect, his breath shallow for a moment.
When he opened his eyes, Stan was looking at him, before she slowly detached herself, leaving a cold, damp chill where she was. She threw the blanket off, already moving for the puke bowl so he wouldn't have to move. Attentive - like she was meant to be to her belongings, her child, her mate, nothing more, never anything more.
Then the plastic bowl hit the hardwood. He looked at her but she was ghostly pale, rushing over and putting one hand on his face. "Hey - what do I do? Bathroom? Do I - do I call 911 for this?" She said, voice quicker than normal. Ford squinted at her, but she was panicking, honestly panicking, she hadn't panicked since they had been stuck on top of a ferris wheel in 68'. Her eyes kept darting to the right. He followed her eyes.
Oh.
That was a lot of blood.
That would explain why he felt so out of it. He cramped again, wincing and whimpering like a shot dog and then then next second he was out of bed. Stan's short, trembling arms under his knees and shoulderblades, probably getting blood on her while she waddled to the door. He had to get the doorknob for her, barely registering he was outside their room in nothing but pajamas and covered in blood, if their parents saw they would kill him. The thought made his eyes hot, but he didn't register the feeling deeper than that.
Then Stan was slamming the bathroom door shut, and his wet shorts met cold tile. Stan locked the door before dragging him into the shower like she was dragging a corpse - blood trail and everything. He watched her the whole time. She was saying something about him - she only ever said 'nerd-brain' when she was talking about him. Another cramp hit him, this one making the space between his legs throb.
He tried to think of what he was supposed to do - what he'd read about - but his thoughts were slippery, distant. He was anemic, or hypoglycemic, or both, he needed to fix that. You fix that with a high-iron high-carb diet.
"Constance..?" He asked, his voice hoarse. She immediately stopped what she was doing, crouching in front of him and putting her small hands on his face - probably getting blood on him. How did he explain what was happening in terms Stan would get? "Stan, I'm starving."
She must have thought it hyperbole, she laughed a little desperately but tapped him on the cheek, said she was supposed to be the big eater, and left.
With her gone, the cold of the tile seeped into his skin, his clothes soaked with sweat and blood did nothing but make them cling. He grabbed his waistband to get the stained red article away, arching so he didn't have to stand. Then when he sat fully back down something touched the cold tile and he winced, before letting himself rest.
The cold soothed the throbbing, just slightly, and he fully put together what was happening. It worked. The thing would be out of him, and then he could go back to eating properly and sleeping in his own bed and having room to breath without...
His shallow breath echoed off the walls, Stan's steady stream of noise gone completely, all he could focus on was the cramps stabbing into him, the feeling of slowly warming tile. How long did it take to get a snack? Did Stan not get the urgency?
The steadily mounting pain had his legs trying to push him further against the wall, arms crossed and digging into the small lump of his stomach. His breath sounded awful, stuttering and swallowing and grunting like a wretched thing, the feeling of sweat rolling down his forehead made him want to scream.
Would he even be able to do this without a doctor? He was only twelve weeks along, his birth canal was underdeveloped, maybe he was bleeding because his insides were torn open and he would die on the floor of a bathroom in his parents fucking house and they would have to bury their son thinking he was just a stupid omega that couldn't keep his pants on, an unremarkable life undeserving of more than a moment's thought, a quick 'Oh, Stanford Pines? Was that the kid with the fingers?' and nothing more.
He barely registered that Stan was back until something cold was pressed against his lips, he opened his mouth and bit into a fucking Snickers bar. He chewed on chocolate and peanuts and caramel and maybe sobbed while he inhaled what was likely the least healthy thing his sister could find. She handed him another, unwrapped, and he looked up at her like a matron saint.
She sat down on the floor in front of him, rubbing his shoulder. He looked up at her, mouth full, tears and snot and sweat running down his face. "Why candy..?" He asked.
She dramatically rolled her eyes. "I'll make you a sandwich later, Sixer." She said, effortlessly drawing all attention while she wiped the tears from his cheekbone and teased him for nagging her.
Then another sharp throb took away his oasis. He swallowed thickly. "Okay. I just need to - to--" His hand drew down to the source of the blood, knees parting just slightly while his finger found the barely-there slit that had just begun to form. He pressed the tip of his pinky inside and it burned. He whined, ripping his hand away while his stomach continued to throb.
"Hey - Stanford, I need the play-by-play." Stan said, one hand brushing the sweat and hair off his forehead.
Ford nodded, taking a second to breathe. "Human pelvises are only - only wide enough for a baby to exit straight down. Male om-- I need it to pass through a - a vulva, sort of, like yours." He huffed. "It's - it's meant to be bigger at the end of 40 weeks, when..." He said, and for a second Stan just looked devistated, before she swallowed it.
"Do you need a hospital--?"
"No!" Ford said quickly. "No - then they'll find out - they'll--. I just need to - to stretch it out, I just--"
"But you couldn't fit even a finger in there." Stan said quietly, and Ford nodded, because it was hopeless and he would need a hospital and Pa would find out and--
And Stan's thumbs were rubbing circles on his knees. "My hands are smaller, I could try?" She asked, and for a moment he was a child, they were both children, small and scared and inexperienced. But there wasn't a place for children here.
"Be careful." He panted, because he wasn't quite so pathetic as to say 'please don't hurt me'.
She nodded, gently tugging his legs apart, her hands trembling on his knees. She was looking at the source of the blood with something like grief on her face. Then she gave Ford a smile. "We got this, yeah? We always do." She coaxed, childish and naiive.
Ford nodded, and he felt her warm fingers begin tracing his slit. His stomach cramped harder, he distantly wondered if she could feel his pulse from there. Then one digit tore into him, searing but manageable. It was an inopportune time for a hiccuping sob to escape him - Stan pulled her finger away, both hands back to cupping his sweaty face, pressing his forehead to hers. "Sixer you need a hospital." She said, a cruel and amusing reversal to when he used to bandage her cuts and bruises while listing tetanus symptoms that she ignored.
Ford shook his head. "No. I'll do it myself if you won't." He said, trying to sound firm but sounding more like roadkill, like he was trying to manage a panicked wheeze through collapsed lungs and caved ribs.
Stan swallowed. "Okay. But if you die on me or something--"
"Shut up, Constance." He huffed, not wanting to think of the risks. He wouldn't beg for it, an animal caught in a trap shouldn't have to beg to knaw it's leg off. "Do it."
Stan's fingers were back, gently running over his slit with shaking fingers. This time, when the digit entered, it burned a little less. He closed his eyes tightly and mentally named every element in the periodic table in order. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron - until he could barely feel it under the continued stabbing cramps - nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon--
Stan touched his face again, finger still slowly moving in and out of him. It dragged him away from his list, dragged him back to the shower floor. Her less bloody hand went to his shoulder. Then her head tilted.
Ford all but collapsed forward, hid his tears in her shoulder, she combed the soaked hair on the back of his neck, letting Ford hold onto her. She was saying something, he could feel the vibrations on his nose like butterfly kisses. For a moment he was ten and hiding in her long hair before she decided to cut it off her shoulders and keep it that way. He would later scold himself for this, he shouldn't be crying and clinging if he was going to be better than a reckless omega, but for now Stan was soft and warm and he was cold and stiff without her.
"I'm sorry." She muttered, and then another finger joined the first, burning, tearing him open, he sobbed on her shirt and she kissed his damp hair, fingers slow and careful. "You'll get through this." She whispered, and he nodded even though it wasn't a question. He would get through this, he would be fine, better than fine, he would get a PhD for every week he had been pregnant, he would win.
Stan's body seized up for a second, before she was back to petting him, her hands shaking worse than Ma's, her breath trembling. He barely noticed before he was cramping up again, mouth open to scream but taking in a soft neck instead. Blood filled his mouth and for a second his mind blanked.
Then her fingers were out of him and something followed. The throbbing remained but the cramps were finally, finally gone. Ford detatched from his sister's neck and heaved on her shoulder while she held him firmly with one arm. He could finally catch his breath - there was blood on all his clothes - blood on Stan's clothes - how did you get out bloodstains? He needed to lie down, Stan would probably have to clean up the bathroom before their parents woke up, he would be no help, he felt about as stable as a wet fawn, and he was probably just as disgusting. Stan would probably have to help him shower too and--
Stan sobbed once, quietly, and Ford came into awareness she was holding something with the hand she wasn't using to cling to him. He pulled away and she moved to cup it with both hands. A reeking pile of clotted blood and tissue, and she held it in her trembling hands like glass.
"You s-said she was the size of a plum." She said, because about five weeks ago she had pretended to knock on the barely-there distension of his womb like a watermelon and dubbed that she was absolutely sure it was a girl. Ford had said that that didn't prove anything, but Stan had just gone on and on about how cute and smart and perfect their daughter would be. Now she held Ford's discarded death warrant as if she were the one that just had it gutted from her.
"It is." Ford said simply.
Stan looked up at him. "I'm so sorry Stanford - I couldn't - I should have--" She blubbered. "I'm sorry." She said for all the wrong reasons.
Ford nodded anyway. "I know." He said, not telling her what he really made of it.
She was just an alpha, after all.
#stancest#a/b/o dynamics#Uhhhh concerning the pole abt my WIPs I-- *smoke bomb*#drafts#This isn't how miscarriages normally work btw it's just like a heavy period this is just the average boyperiod experience#Animal metaphors and all
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bap bee do bee da bap bee do bee da bap bee do bee da bap
#had to get this off my chest#the average grat sax experience#sparkstember2024#sparks#gratuitous sax and senseless violins#normal sparkstember posts will resume later
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