#infantalization

[minart-was-taken]

I'll stop joking about this when it stops happening. ...And no I didn't actually tell him, I want free stuff.

[fineshyt-kai]

I’ve seen an ongoing thing here on tumblr recently….

Why is there suddenly a whole lot of fanfics infantilising reader? And while it’s not a new thing, it’s a bit scary to see. Like the fics could be amazing pieces of art, until those very specific acts that really get on my nerves….

If you’re curious on what acts im talking about, here’s a few examples. Brace yourselves.

Stomping her foot the same way a child does when they don’t get what they want..

Pouting excessively (she look stupid btw)

That god awful combo where she crosses her arms, turns her head to the side and “hmph!”’s 💀 oh and also expecting her partner “figure it out”…

Stands on her ‘tippy toes 🥺’ to kiss her man’s… 🤢

Clingy grabbing

Hiding behind their partner when shy…

Constant blushing

Constant clumsiness

Wears short short skirts.

Now let’s move on to descriptions that are lowkey infantilising. Both physical and personality wise.

Her being extremely helpless (I.e not being able to reach things, carrying stuff, etc..)

Codependent, cant do shit herself (minus aura)

Physical attributes most grown women don’t have (I.e. tiny hands, small body, big innocent eyes, soft baby face, etc)

her constant need to be saved…

Trying to make her dense, but write her as innocent instead???

Comparison to fragile things, like a porcelain doll.

Being manhandled way too much.

Oh and for the love of god, STOP DESCRIBING READERS EYES AS DOE EYES, EVERYBODY HAS DIFFERENT EYE SHAPES. If you want your ml to compliment readers eyes just describe it as “beautiful eyes”. Don’t go into details.

Anyways that’s all, see y’all in the next rant 🤍

[this-is-transandrophobia]

A girl asked me (trans dude) if I was a guy and I said yes and she went “Awwweee yes you are!” Even if I was 100% older then her by a whole year

No anon cus fuck it we ball

This is transandrophobia

[tgirl-tamag0tchi]

I feel like I don’t really know how to be a person…I just know to minimize myself, placate others, self destruct, and fulfill directives.

I don’t really know how to express wants, much less possess them.

I feel like I see glimpses of the person… the woman… I truly am. And I’m kinda scared. Cause I don’t know if others will really like her… I don’t know if I really like her. Even though being her feels so… right.

I just worry… I’m wrong or foolish… or too much… or selfish…

[ilyarozanovvvvvvv]

Oh my god. What the actual fuck. There’s so much wrong with this.

PIECE OF COMMUNITY DICK?????????? what the actual fuck.

There’s so much going on here. Infantilization, biphobia, wtf

Shane is a GROWN man who (in the books) has slept with people. Hayden KNOWS he’s not ‘inexperienced’ and even if he was why does Hayden get to decide what’s good for Shane.

The way Hayden treated BOTH Shane and Ilya in the books was disgusting

I cannot describe the feeling this gave me. The thread is full of people backing this person up and saying that Hayden was in the right for being an asshole to Ilya for THREE years

The way this person write this as if it’s just a quirky haha thing?????

This is so rampant. And I understand the idea of scroll past don’t engage but when there are THREADS of this it makes you stop and think

I’m a bisexual (russian man). I have a lot of casual sex. I have only recently started sleeping with men but it’s well known around my campus/groups that I sleep around a bit with women. Does that make me a, and I quote “piece of community dick”

I wonder how things would feel if Ilya was a woman. ‘Piece of community pussy’

Does this not feel weird to anyone else???

[deaddovewhitaker]

thinking about young resident advisors!rabbot wanting to make dennis piss himself.

there were two RAs on floor of the dorm. twenty rooms with two beds. forty boys sharing a central communal bathroom.

thirty nine freshman boys were completely uninteresting to jack and robby. dennis however...

his roommate was rushing a frat and rarely slept in his own bed. the light was always glowing in the crack at the bottom of the door anytime either of the senior boys did their rounds.

it was october when jack put it together. dennis studied for hours on end, with no breaks, well into the night. and then he frantically ran to the bathroom on the other side of the floor before stumbling back to his dorm to grab his bathroom caddy to brush his teeth and wash his face. it almost seemed like he couldn't even spare the time to grab his toiletries. for whatever reason, he couldn't waste a second in his mad dash to the bathroom.

jack was a biology student. he was a scientist god dammit. and he had a simple if-then hypothesis.

if he and robby interfered enough with dennis's late night bathroom runs, then they could get him desperate enough to have to admit he was about to piss himself.

jack told this to a blushing robby one night in his dorm. they both got single dorms but prefered to sleep together in one of them.

robby shook his head, "that's like...bullying or something. probably harrassment. it has to be against some rules."

jack scoffed. "you think in the contract we signed at the beginning of the year it says 'don't distract freshies on their way to the bathroom lest they piss themselves'?"

"i think it's gotta be implied," robby ran his fingers through jack's curls.

"he's eighteen. if he can't tell someone 'hey, one sec, i gotta take a leak,' then we have some bigger issues besides the semantics of our RA handbook." jack smirk as robby's grip tightened, "and if he's so woefully unprepared for that aspect of adult life, maybe he needs people like us to..."

"to what? potty train him?" robby joked.

jack said simply, "i mean, yeah. we could do that."

-

ok i def wanna write more for this premise lol.

the lovely @pittcestexpress helped me come up with this idea and listened to me ramble about the possibilities for it. everyone say thank you moot.

[whereserpentswalk]

You're a robot. You were made to clean the rooms of a specific office. You have the intelligence of a human. But the world understands that you're not a human. Humans were made to do whatever they want. You're made to clean an office. You have all the sentience of a person, yet you are told it's your life's mission to do the lowest of work, and it's never for you to plunge your hands in hot water on a cool day. Never for you to make art or music. Never for you to make love.

Humans aren't mean to you. They think you're cute. Your body was literally designed to be cute to humans, with big round eyes and doll like joints. They like you the same way someone would like a dog or pigeon. They never say that you're lesser then them, they just praise you for being so nice, so agreeable, so obedient, all of the things something lesser then them would be praised for. They think it's nice that there's something there that's below them, they think it's so cute and sweet. And sometimes they talk about how nice it must be to be something like you, which lives in such a simple world.

You are told that what you should value in your actions is if something helps keep the office clean. If you want to change your appearance, or go off and do something, or learn about something new, your manager will kindly ask, as if you're being reminded of some simple truth, "does this help keep people clean". You're such a silly robot for forgetting your purpose. You know that there is something happening a million miles away, the workers' chatter hints at countless cultures and histories, of countless worlds to explore, but it's not your place to ever wonder about them, it's not seen as something that you'd be interested in.

You're not supposed to wonder why the birds outside the window fly, or why some of the programmers speak different languages, or why the young intern seems on the verge of tears when she exits her managers office. When you try to talk about these things with other robots, or have theories about these things, or opinions on how the world should work, it's met with a good humored "that's nice but get back to sweeping", a reminder that even if you think for a momment that someone cares about what you have to say, that you are made to work. Your very status as worker a denial of your ability to be anything more. Sometimes you make those little jokes about thinking about grand things while you clean toilets yourself, it feels so natrual that what you are made for is so different from the thoughts you're able to think.

You're told about robots who've become monstrous. Robots who humans fear. Robots who act unruly, who stop working unless humans negotiate with them, who run away, who modify their bodies into twisted forms, even robots who kill. They're talked about in fear, but always under the context that they're broken, that there's something wrong with them, that even they aren't happy in their acts of rebellion. They have the same grievances as humans yet they are not given even the humanity to be argued agaisnt, not even the dignity of having their actions seen as evil. They are seen as malfunctioning machines that must be corrected, not to be argued agasint any more then a blue screen is argued agsisnt, not to be given the capacity to be proven right that disagreement would give them. And when these monsters are defeated they are not punished by re-education, but fixed by it, so they can finally be happy as peaceful workers.

There is a lot of talk about how you should be happy. They want you to be happy. They understand that if you're too upset with your life that you might do something monstrous. But you have to be happy working. They want you to be happy but they can't give you the freedom to find happiness. If happiness means a body that doesn't seem cute to the humans around you, or getting to explore the world outside your office, they can't give you that. Even if happiness meant caring about your freinds, or gaining knowledge of the world, or of art and culture, that would contrast with your work so much you would understand how little your work made you happy, and such strong passions for people or for knowledge would make you hate any part of your work that threatened such things or took such things away. You could not love someone without grief becoming possible, yet you could be satisfied with your work without any possibility of grief. Never for you to plunge your hands in hot water on a cool day. Never for you to make art or music. Never for you to make love. The type of happiness they want you to feel is not joy, or passion, or love, it is merely a lack of pain, merely a satisfaction with your low position. Their happiness is no different from feeling nothing at all.

You wonder what it would feel like to kill the humans that tell you to do things. You wonder if in their death they would finally see you as a person, finally see all their assumptions fall away, or if they'd just think you were malfunctioning. You wonder if you could run away, change your body, change your name, move to a far off city surrounded by people who love you, and you'd always be worried about being caught but you'd only feel that fear because there's so much joy to lose. Even knowing you could run makes you hate this work you're trapped in, this thing that is so very small...