#I'm talking about a wider issue here

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.

There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.

The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.

The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.

There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)

And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.

But. This brings me to the real point of the post.

Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:

Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.

And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"

And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.

It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.

And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.

TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.

[taliabhattwrites]

I don't think there is a significant or notable number of people who believe transmascs are not oppressed.

I feel slightly insane just having to type this out, but this is rhetoric you inevitably come across if you discuss transfeminism on Tumblr.

The mainstream, cissexist understanding of transmasculine people is the Irreversible Damage narrative (one that's old enough to show up in Transsexual Empire as well) of transmascs as "misguided little girls", "tricked" into "mutilating themselves". It is a deliberately emasculating and transphobic narrative that very explicitly centers on oppression, even if the fevered imaginings misattribute the cause. As anyone who's dealt with the gatekeeping medical establishment knows, they are far from giving away HRT or even consults with both hands, and most transfems I know have a hard enough time convincing people to take DIY T advice, leave alone "tricking" anyone into top surgery.

Arguably, the misogyny that transmasculine folks experience is the defining narrative surrounding their existence, as transmasculinity is frequently and erroneously attributed to "tomboyish women" who resent their position in the patriarchy so much they seek to transition out of it. This rhetoric is an invisiblization of transmasculinity, constructed deliberately to preserve gendered verticality, for if it were possible to "gain status" under the sexed regime, its entire basis, its ideological naturalization, would fall apart.

Honestly, the actual discussions I see are centered around whether "transmisogyny" is a term that should apply to transmascs and transfems alike. While I understand the impetus for that discussion, I feel like the assertion that transmisogyny is a specific oppression that transfems experience for our perceived abandonment of the "male sex" is often conflated with the incorrect idea that we believe transmasculine people are not oppressed at all. This is not true, and we understand, rather acutely, that our society is entirely organized around reproductive exploitation. That is, in fact, the source of transfeminine disposability!

I know I'm someone who "just got here" and there is a history here that I'm not a part of, but so much of that history is speckled with hearsay and fabrication that I can't even attempt to make sense of it. All I know is that I, in 2024, have been called a revived medieval slur for effeminate men by people who attribute certain beliefs to me based on my being a trans woman who is also a feminist, and I simply do not hold those views, nor do I know anyone who sincerely does.

If you're going to attempt to discredit a transfeminist, or transfeminism in general, then please at least do us the courtesy of responding to things we actually say and have actually argued instead of ascribing to us phantom ideologies in a frankly conspiratorial fashion. I also implore people to pay attention to how transphobic rhetoric operates out in the wider world, how actual reactionaries talk about and think of trans people, instead of fixating so hard on internecine social media clique drama that one enters an alternate reality--a phantasm, as Judith Butler would put it.

Speaking of which--do y'all have any idea how overrepresented transmascs are in trans studies and queer theory? Can we like, stop and reckon with reality-as-it-is, instead of hallucinating a transfeminine hegemony where it doesn't exist? I'm aware a lot of their output isn't particularly explicative on the material realities of transmasculine oppression despite their prominence in the academy, but that is ... not the fault of trans women, who face extremely harsh epistemic injustice even in trans studies.

The actual issue is how invisiblized transmasculine oppression is and how the epistemicide that transmasculine people face manifests as a refusal to differentiate between the misogyny all women face, reproductive exploitation in particular, and the contours of violence, erasure, and oppression directed at specifically transmasculine people.

You will notice that is a society-wide problem, motivated by a desire to erase the possibilities of transmasculinity, to the point of not even being willing to name it. You will notice that I am quite familiar with how this works, and how it's completely compatible with a materialist transfeminist framework that analyzes how our oppression is--while distinct--interlinked and stems from the same root.

I sincerely hope that whoever needs to see this post sees it, and that something productive--more productive dialogue, at least--can arise from it.

[hotchner-edu]

As We Fall | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: After you accidentally go on a blind date with Aaron, Jack must bear witness to the fruits of his error. — part 2 of this

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (r is over 22, Aaron is in his late 40s), fluff, Jack

Accidentally being set up with Aaron had to be one of the best things to ever happen to you. Unfortunately, being together with Aaron also meant having to face Jack (who was literally responsible for the entire ordeal).

“I have three rules.” Jack says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. You and Aaron were sat on the couch together, having just come back from your third official date.

“Jack, you already gave us this talk after the blind date.” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow when Aaron huffs softly under his breath in amusement.

After you and Aaron finished making out in his car the night of your blind date, you both agreed it would be good for you to come over so that you could both speak with Jack. Your best friend had only been playfully upset, but he did bring up some genuine boundaries he wanted to set and you both respected them.

Now, it seems he's adding on to those boundaries, but you could tell he was only being half-serious.

Jack’s hands fly up, waving in exaggerated motions as he gives you the infamous Hotchner stare. “Three new rules.”

“Let’s hear them.” Aaron speaks up, smiling at his son in fondness.

Jack immediately springs into his antics, clearly having thoroughly thought about these new expectations. “First rule is no sex—and I mean at all! Second, dad you don’t get to hang out with her more than me, I was here first. Third—and I really mean this, absolutely under no circumstances will I call Y/N mom.”

You snort at the catalogue of rules he’s laying out, seeing the smile that he’s unsuccessfully trying to suppress from his face. Aaron chuckles loudly and shakes his head, “Jack, the last two we can both agree on. The first one though…”

“Yeah, I mean have some humanity.” You add, the grin on your face growing even wider when you see Jack’s immediate nauseated frown.

“Okay, gross. And fine… I guess… ugh, okay, actually I don’t want to imagine that so just do whatever you both want. But only when I’m not home, thank you and please.” He rubs his temples and grimaces a bit in playful exasperation.

You gaze at your best friend with a much gentler expression and nod. “Of course, Jack. You don’t have to worry about any of that.”

Aaron gives your shoulder a squeeze just as his phone rings, the three of you falling silent as you all know that it means. His arm remains wrapped around you as he picks up the call. "Hotchner... Alright, I'll be there in twenty."

Sighing, you loll your head to the side and smile knowingly. "Duty calls."

"I'm sorry, honey." He mumbles and gives you a kiss and one last squeeze before he's clambering up from the couch and hurrying up the stairs to change and grab his go-bag.

"How long do you think he'll be gone this time?" Jack muses curiously.

You shrug and look after Aaron's fleeing figure. "I'd reckon four or five days."

"Four days of having my best friend to myself or four days of listening to you whine about missing him... I have a feeling it'll be the latter." Jack says jokingly, head falling back to lay on the couch cushion.

"I'll be sure to keep it to a minimum." You shake your head and stand up, stretching your arms above your head a bit before looking back down at him. "You're sure you're completely okay with me dating Aaron?"

"You've asked me that like thirty times in the past two weeks." He snorts, eyeing you with a teasingly drained expression. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine with it. If I had an issue, I would have ghosted you the first time you told me you had a crush on him."

"Yeah, there's no way that was going to happen. Who else is going to pick you up from parties and nurse you through your heartbreaks?" You were quick to retort, a chuckle racking through your chest when he launches one of the decorative throw pillows at you.

Hurrying away, you head up the stairs and pad towards Aaron's bedroom. He's rushing around his room, tie undone around his neck as he shoves something into his go-bag.

"Need a hand?" Your voice breaks through his trance, his head snapping in your direction.

Approaching him, you deftly tie and adjust his tie, your hands smoothing down his shirt and resting against his chest.

"Very handsy." He utters gently, a tender look painting his stare.

You pull his tie to bring his face closer to yours. "Gonna miss you." You whisper and kiss him softly.

"I'll miss you too, honey. I'll get back to you as quick as possible." He mumbles reassuringly, hands moving to squeeze your hips. "Want a souvenir?" He asks kindly, lips twitching with a teasing smile.

"Just bring yourself back in one piece." You answer, hugging him tightly.

His strong arms wrap around you, one his hands cupping the back of your head lightly to keep you against him as he drinks in the comfort of your hold.

After a few moments, he pulls away and kisses you firmly, conveying the words and concerns he has no time to voice. Silently, you both pull apart and you move to help him double check his go-bag, seeing that he's slipped a small photo of you inside one of the pockets.

The photo is from your second date together at the aquarium. Aaron had snapped the shot of you while you were both in the shark tunnel, your face illuminated in blues and whites from the water.

You don't mention it, zipping up the bag and carrying it for him as he slips on his suit jacket. He takes the bag from your hold as soon as his hands are free, lacing his fingers through yours with his other hand.

"We're going to Atlanta. It'll be too late for me to call at night, so I'll try to call during my lunch breaks." He says, squeezing your hand as he leads you down the hallway.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I can stay up late. I'm not quite as old as you yet." You teasingly remark, swinging your joined hands a bit.

He exhales through his nose in a mixture of fondness and resignation. "Still, I don't want you staying up too late just to wait for my phone calls."

"And I don't want you to worry yourself about making phone calls while you're working on the case." You immediately counter, not wanting him to wear himself down for your sake.

Aaron shakes his head and leads you down the stairs. "I'm not just going to go radio silent on you, honey. And..." he stops in his tracks to look back at you, a coy smirk on his face. "I'll have Jack leave us alone when I come back so we can make up for lost time."

You blush brightly at the insinuation, huffing and shaking your head. "Horny old man." You mumble, kissing his cheek before continuing down the stairs.

"I really hate you both."

Jack's voice cuts through the dulcet atmosphere surrounding the two of you as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, nose scrunched.

"This time it's his fault, not mine." You giggle, immediately throwing Aaron under the bus.

"Thanks, honey." Aaron drawls out with a lighthearted eye roll.

"Dad, I love you and stay safe, but please leave right now before my eyeballs melt out of my eye sockets." Jack says, opening the front door and gesturing for him to quickly leave.

Aaron chuckles and sighs. "Now we can't have that, now can we." He turns to you and gives you another kiss. "I'll be back before you know it, baby." He says softly and moves his hand to squeeze your waist.

"I'll be waiting." You whisper back with a small smile. You can hear Jack tapping away on his phone by the door, chiming in again after a few more seconds pass.

"It's a good thing you're not a first responder, dad."

part 3 here

[punkitt-is-here]

Okay I'll put it here too because I want my words read.

Taking you at your word, I don't think most transfems think that. I actually think that's a wider issue with the queer community. I've seen more acceptance of my own and others' masculinity in transfem circles than elsewhere.

The problem is what you said sounds a lot like something the transandrophobia guys say, and they're massively transmisogynistic. They couch their bs in dogwhistles and doublespeak.

I think people thought they heard you parroting what the transandrophobia guys say and got mad. But you were speaking genuinely (in my opinion misinformed), so there's just been a massive miscommunication.

Also egging people on and making "touch grass" jokes doesn't help.

I said trans women because I was speaking specifically to them on an issue I see us have. I was not trying to make a broader point about how the world views masculinity, or how queer people in general view masculinity, i was talking specifically about a type of transgender woman that i am familiar with! most of them don't think that, because they rock! but a non-zero amount do and I see em more often than what I like. I don't really care that my words sound like a transandrophobia dogwhistle, thats some other shit. Not my fault, not my point. I'm not gonna say I'm misinformed, because I am very much informed about a lot of the stuff regarding this.

I got no ill will, so sorry if I sound snappy, but its like 3 AM here and I'm tired of people thinking I'm speaking more broadly than I am!

[miange1]

ELWOOD DALTON

male reader, bar sex or smth, being ex's, dalton trying to make up for being a dick, he wasn't abusive, just a dick, letting fame get to you, leaving, rough sex, anger issues, kind of hate sex but it's one sided, reader calls dalton 'el' a few times, the bar is empty i just got lazy, i was listening to justin beieber while writing this

he had been watching you from across the bar this whole time, and each time you caught each other's eye, you wouldn't fail to glare at him. what was this prick doing here? why the hell was he staring at you? and like that.

you weren't at all happy about him being here. sure, those other guys fucking with the bar were being less and less frequent but that didn't change anything. it didn't change who he actually was, now did it?

"el, all im saying is that you need to take a break— you aren't even in the right mind to fight!" he wasn't, he was getting into more arguments with you which ended with something random broken. he would never hit you, not now or ever but harming your things still wasn't okay.

"fuck off." he'd comment on how you were practically riding his dick at this point. "oh, so is riding your dick being a worried boyfriend? i'm sorry for caring about you!" you really would have left him alone, but this wasn't the best time. if he went out and fought, he could really hurt that person and his own self. whether it would be physical or mental, he would get himself hurt and that's all you were worried about.

"jesus, just leave it alone! this is the shit i do, so im gonna keep doin' it, you understand? you aren't my fuckin' mom." he was being unbelievable. if you could fight him you would. "this isn't about whether or not i'm acting like your mom, it's the fact you aren't listening to me—" your words cut off with your own gasp, feeling his arm tightly grip around your shoulder.

"leave it the hell alone."

it wasn't the biggest argument, but it was the worst one to you. he broke nothing, never harmed you. it just seemed like he genuinely hated you. things ended once he retired, because he just left and made you assume the status of the relationship.

but if he no longer had feelings for you, what the fuck is he looking at you like some lovesick teen. it was getting annoying, you finished cleaning the glass as you let yourself walk over to him.

"you haven't touched your drink." why are you doing this, you should have just went home. why are you talking to this man. his eyes met your instantly, beautiful and blue orbs staring at you like he had just fallen in love all over again. he seemed to save out for a moment before you snapped you fingers at him.

"hello? you gonna drink it or get out?" way too harsh, you practically saw his facade fade into something less hopeful. "of course. you made it for me." he gave you a small smile, taking a sip of it though it was watered down. it made you gag as he drank it, it was practically just juice mixed water at this point.

shaking your head, you snatched the drink from him and headed behind the long table to remake it. your eyes glanced up at him, cocking your head to give him a hint to come over towards you.

his smile got wider as he headed over towards you, sitting down acting so giddy. "here you are." you would have thrown it at him, but you just slid it over towards him.

"enjoy." you couldn't leave till he finished, when he was done you'd have to wash another glass and only then could you head home. he was taking occasional sips, only taking the rest of the time just to look at you. it got you frustrated.

"look, you gonna drink it or not? i got places to be dalton."

"dalton?" finally, the man speaks.

"yes, that's your name ain't it?" he shook his head, setting the drink down for a moment. "thought it was el, is it not?" your mouth turned into an annoyed snarl, you expected him to say this.

"don't give me that shit, dalton." you purposely emphasized his name. you had this entire racing thought in your mind that he was still the exact same person. he hasn't changed, not at all.

"well, i tried." this agitated you, how calm he was but you could tell he was upset himself. you leaned on the wood slightly, your elbows hurting due to setting yourself down too hard. "fuck are you trying to do, hm?" your voice lowers though no one else was inside. he acted clueless, "what am i doing?" your hand slammed down on the surface. "don't give me that!"

you had a full right to be upset, this couldn't just be some coincidence, was it? "we end things, and i move and you knew where i was going- now all of a sudden you're here too?" it didn't add up. "what do you want."

he had finished the drink by now, it was out of the question. "this was all a coincidence, im not going to lie about that," he looked down for a moment, as if he was shy.

"but sooner or later, i would have come here to see you again." his long eyelashes practically batted at you, beggingly. "you.." your guard was let down for a moment, feeling a sense of longing the more you were around him. he was a terrible person— he let fame get to him, and that's all he ever cared about. right? right.

"go home dalton." he seemed as if he was going to say something, but he stopped and allowed himself to nod and take his leave.

"please, el pick up.." that was the 50th voice note you've sent, and he still hasn't answered you. you've sent various messages and he hasn't even responded to them.

you didn't know where he was! he just left you in this big ass house and expected you to take care of yourself? what were you supposed to do?

"el, please! i'm sorry about what happened, but you could have at least taken me with you!" sadness, anger, confusion had all ran through your veins. where was he..

"i'm not mad if that's what you think..please, el, i love you and i miss you. but i can't stay in your house, i don't have the money to pay it.." a sniffle came through, more sobs coming out. "just— meet me in glass keys. okay? bye." and you sent the voice note. you hadn't been blocked, because you knew he saw it. did he even care?

he did care. his heart aches being away from you even if he couldn't admit it. he made sure that was the last voice note you sent, before throwing his phone some place else and leaving it there.

oh gosh, he wasn't sure how this happened. one moment, it was all going well— sort of. you refused to really look at him, but you were sort of paying attention to what he had been saying. a few hums, and even some chuckles. it felt nice, but it didn't really feel like old times.

then he found himself in front of you, while you rambled about how stupid he was to even fight a guy like that. it was some irish fucker, you didn't even care about him, but you definitely cared about daltons well being.

"the fuck is wrong with you— he was clearly a lunatic! do you understand that?!" the way you patched him up hurt more than the wound itself, but he knew it'd feel better later. he feels good right now, having you as close as ever and you were willingly touching him.

"you've always been stupid, so damn stupid! see this? this, is why we didn't work out! cause you're an idiot!" he had such a stupid smile on his face, eyes hooded like he was in a dream.

"mhm.." the man was just happy to be here.

"el, are you even listening!" well now he was. he nodded, smiling even more. "yeah, yeah i am." you caught yourself smiling, feeling your heart beat faster and faster. it was quiet for a moment , your hands leaving his face and resting in the front of you.

a glob of spit rushed down your throat from how nervous you were. he was so handsome still, only thing changing was how much he really did want to change. your body leaned forward, going up a bit to reach him and you quickly placed a small kiss on his lips. fuck, what were you doing.

"i..uh.." you quickly wiped your lips, feeling tears of embarrassment threaten to rush out but you did your best to swallow them down.

his hand found your wrist, gently pulling away. "why'd you wipe it off?" you tried to pull your arm away, but his hold tightened as if he was really scared you'd permanently leave him.

"..what?"

from a small kiss, to a make out session, to your shoes being kicked off and your pants being to your ankles and almost completely on the floor, they practically hung from one singular ankle.

your moans echoed throughout the bar, wet slaps of skin mixing and daltons groans of pleasure gave you pure bliss. it felt so good, after so long having something finally fill you up this way. he had practically stretched you out again, making you feel like the first time the two of you fucked.

"el— oh god, yes, yes yes,.." when dalton spoke to you, he was so soft with his words yet his actions differed. your back arched into his movements, sending a shock through your spine and making it feel tingly and weird, but fuck it was good.

"mnghhh, fuck just like that.." eyes rolled back, saliva almost dripping from how hard he was going— damn, did he miss you that much? cock pulsing, already having cum far too much due to him. he had changed, but this hadn't. calloused hands holding you tight, most likely bruising your skin , and his fingers nails digging inside.

his lips kissed along your neck and back, whispering the sweetest things to you, like how good you were being for him, how much he missed and loved you and that could make you cum alone.

he stopped his actions for a moment, jolting a bit at his own actions. you slightly regained yourself, thinking you were done, but when you tried to lift yourself up he forcefully put you back down into position.

"all i did was take a small breather, you thought we were done?" the stamina this man had was utterly insane. "c'mon, you know me much more better than that." you did, he would always made sure you came as many times as you could before he was done and he would maybe wait till you shot blanks to stop.

but he wasn't sure he could stop this time, he missed more than your body of course but it was still apart of you and he wouldn't ever let it go. "fuuck..i can't, no, no.." he chuckled, sending another shiver through your body. "mhm, yes you can. i know you can because you have, and you will." didn't mean you were used to this again just yet.

"you'll get used to it." he slid it out for a moment, you let out a breathy and strained moan because he did it so damn slowly and all he needed to do was spit on it a bit so it could hurt much less.

dalton flipped you over, so you could look at him. "i like this better." he wanted to make sure you were looking at him. "missed your pretty eyes.."

[drdemonprince]

Regarding the online left and moral OCD, how is that not cancel culture? In all seriousness? I know it's a somewhat loaded term and used as a catch all for a lot of irrelevant shit, but isn't that exactly the same system of values that leads people to send hate mobs after each other in the name of "accountability"?

"cancel culture" refers, in a pretty flawed way IMO, to one tactic that people use, not to the wider cultural phenomenon being critiqued here.

like yes, people make public call outs, and they do that for a variety of reasons that cant all be summed up easily -- everything from bringing attention to an exploitative employer or abusive boss to attempting to get an incredibly vulnerable poor trans woman kicked out of housing.

I do not think it's helpful to equate all of those things.

I'm firmly of the position that public callouts rarely work or bring anything but terror to the accuser, so they're rarely worth doing, but there is a HUGE difference between a group of Black trans people making a post calling out the security of the local queer community center for being racist and, like, a mob of anonymous strangers deciding they all hate a mentally ill trans person because of one weird post they made and pressuring others to socially ostracize that person.

like. a callout/cancellation is just a tactic, it kinda sucks and doesnt work mostly, and it can and has also ruined people's lives.

but that's just one part of the larger issue we are talking about here.

we're not just talking about calling people out and cutting them off, we're also talking about performing immense guilt regarding any small human behavior or feeling that has not been morally optimized, splitting hairs over the ethicality of choices so granular as to be meaningless, correcting other people on minute language differences, imposing western/united states oppression frameworks onto completely different cultures and situations, interpreting all vague statements in the worst possible faith, holding a person responsible for any conceivable negative interpretation or unacknowledged caveat to anything they say, demanding the performance of negative emotions such as grief and exhaustion and rage, pathologizing positive emotions such as joy and pleasure, denying individuals any right set boundaries over how they spend their time, convincing people that any moment not spent consuming upsetting information is an abdication of duty, immense focus upon individual effort with little regard for collective power or systemic change, victim blaming, self obsession, self loathing, associating a person's appearance or mannerisms or sexual proclivities with their goodness as a person, a permanent suspicion of the "other," a lack of faith in humanity, and on and on.

so i think it's a lot more complicated and deep than just people making incendiary call out posts online. but then, i did write a book on all this.

[goldfades]

manager literally having to handle every single thing and js bein emotionally exhausted, one day she’s just completely overstimulated from everything and walks out to let herself cry

i love angst sorry🤘

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ─ UCONN WBB MANAGER

౨ৎ ─ summary | after a shitty week, manager breaks down over a stupid test score and her teammate helps her through it.

─ word count | 919

─ warnings | NIKA AND MANAGER BONDING TIME YIPEE! angsty af, hurt to comfort, manager putting too much pressure on herself, midterms (BLEHHH), pretty sure nothin else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOUR ENTIRE WEEK had been shit, to put it simply.

Scratch that, your entire month had been pretty shitty. Your midterms had gone terrible, your headaches have been becoming way more painful and more frequent and on top of all of that, you bled through your pants. Twice.

With play-off season arriving in about couple weeks, practices had been running later and later. You spent the entire practice usually on the phone, trying to figure out routes to away games, trying to coordinate transportation for the team, and dealing with the last-minute changes and complications that seemed to plague every plan you made.

As the playoff season even nearer, the pressure mounted to new heights. Every decision felt like it carried the weight of the world, and the fear of letting down your team gnawed at your insides.

Geno had told you that you could leave early if you absolutely needed to, but you hated feeling useless. You wanted to be able to do your job without letting your own personal issues get in the way but right now, it felt like you were way in over your head. Despite Geno's offer to leave early, the guilt gnawed at you, whispering that you were failing in your duties as a manager.

As today's practice wore on, your headache intensified, pulsing behind your eyes with an intensity that threatened to consume you. You clenched your jaw against the pain, willing yourself to push through, but with each passing moment, it felt like the weight on your shoulders grew heavier.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh and you picked it up, reading the notification. Your heart had dropped to your stomach as you read the email ─ you had failed your Geo midterm.

You threw your phone against the hardwood floors, feeling your eyesight become blurry. That was cherry on top, that was the final straw. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to regain control of your emotions. You got up from the bench, picking up your phone as you sniffled.

"Whoa, Y/N? Are you good?" You turned to meet Nika's eyes as yours widened in shock. You immediately wiped your tears as you averted your gaze.

Nika was thankfully the only person on the court right now, everyone else was in the locker-room getting ready for practice. Nika finished up early, like she usually did.

You sniffled again. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're not, tell me what's bothering you. Who was it? Was it Paige or Geno, because I swear-"

"No, no." You sighed loudly as Nika's expression softened. "Just allergies. I need to go get something from my dorm, I won't be long."

Nika scoffed as she watched you walk away, her eyes narrowing with concern despite your attempt to brush off the situation.

"Allergies, my ass," she muttered under her breath, though she knew better than to push you further when you were clearly not ready to talk.

You went to your dorm and cried your eyes out, that was the only thing you felt like you could do. You almost debated whether or not you should go back to practice until you remembered that you left all your stuff there.

As you got up to the door, you heard a knock on your door. Your furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you opened the door, revealing Nika. She held your bag in one hand and hers in the other, a warm smile on her lips.

You opened the door wider so that she could come in. Without a word, she set down both her bag and yours as you closed the door behind her.

"Practice ended early so you didn't miss anything," Nika spoke as she gave you a smile. She sat down on your bed as she gestured for you to come and sit.

"Thanks for bringing my bag," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to find the right words to express the depth of your gratitude.

Nika waved off your thanks with a casual shrug, her gaze reassuring. "No problem. I figured you could use a break from everything."

Then, with a small sigh, Nika reached out and took your hand in hers, her touch a comforting. "One test doesn't define your entire career, Y/N. I promise you, it will not matter after you graduate. It probably won't even matter in a month, or maybe even a week."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Nika had completely read you like a damn book. "How did you know?"

Nika just scoffed, "You think we don't listen when you ramble on about your tests and shit? We do, and trust me we know you better than you think."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her blunt honesty, the tension that had coiled tight in your chest slowly starting to unravel. It was true ─ Nika and the rest of the team had always been there to listen, even when you thought no one was paying attention.

"Look, Y/N." Nika kept her gaze on you, her expression serious. "We love you and we need you, but don't ever put us over your mental health. We need you all in one piece if you're gonna take care of us, right?"

"So, for us. Take the weekend off and come back on Monday, alright?" Before you could protest, Nika sent you a stern look and you sighed loudly. Nika's expression dissipated into a warmer one as she smiled, "That's our girl."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[yeeterthek33per]

Loved and Landed (Steph Catley x Reader)

A/n Requested

-------

Steph lives a busy life.

There's her football life. Obviously.

There's her schooling life.

There's the life she lives with her friends and family.

And then there's the life with-

"Steeeeeph, come on, I wanna get there early, I'm not dealing with Katie leaving something for me to find, again."

There's incessant tugging at the sleeve of her red Arsenal hoodie.

Of course, her football life keeps her the most busy.

Especially when she has to drive it to and from home all of the time now that Kyra's living in the house as well.

It had been a hectic process, but the young midfielder had settled in quickly, taking in the familiarity of the Aussie herself and her club teammates' closeness around them.

Quickly becoming a child amongst the older girls on the team, much like a sibling to them, within but a few months.

That being said.

Kyra was a little shit.

And she knew it too.

A demanding one at that.

Hence why Katie had taken to knocking the young brunette down a few pegs.

Her cockiness was starting to show under the protection of the older girls, so the Irish captain had been messing with her enough to take the invincible mindset away from her.

Leaving her ultimately latched onto Steph now.

A lot.

"Seriously, Steph, please, I can't deal with her leaving shaving foam in my boots again."

The older woman raises an eyebrow at the pleading look on Kyra's face.

"You did this to yourself, Ky. Katie's only retaliating because you decided you were king shit enough to put hair dye in her shampoo."

The younger girl whines.

"Don't you think she's retaliated enough? I've had my shoes violated, my shin guards replaced with slightly smaller ones. I mean, the other day, my water bottle was filled with pickle juice. Pickle Juice! For gods sake."

Steph sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, grabbing the last of her stuff to shove into her pack, she gestures to the front door, to which the midfielder eagerly hurries out of and towards the car, waiting impatiently for the defender to unlock it.

"You've seriously gotta apologise to Katie or something. The girl has ten siblings, I can't imagine she hasn't spent her whole life dealing with bratty behaviour from little shits like you."

Kyra scoffs as she hurriedly buckles herself in.

"Rude."

"The truth."

Steph smirks at the small pout that forms on the other girls lips.

"Hurry up and drive."

"So bossy."

-------

As expected, they arrive with hardly any other people around, decidedly much earlier than any of the other girls. Katie wasn't the earliest of player's anyway, so Kyra really shouldn't be worried about her beating them there.

Still, the youngin looks exceptionally nervous as she peaks into the changing room and gingerly makes her way over to her cubby, scanning it with a ridiculous level of detail.

Steph can only shake her head, watching the young girl sheepishly wander around the room, checking for what may well be hidden traps.

Maybe she should talk with Katie about getting her to take it down a notch.

The Irish woman was nothing if not relentless when it came to getting back at someone.

The last thing the team needed was a midfielder with serious trust issues stemming from their infamous yellow card magnet of a winger.

"Ky, relax. She's not even here yet."

"Yeah, but you never know."

"Seriously, it's game day, relax, she won't-"

"Oh, hello, you two. Stephy. Kyra."

The ever so loud and joyful Katie enters the changing room with a bang of the door as it slams open and hits the wall.

Her smirk quirks up a little wider at the sight of the midfielder, who's looking rather sheepishly around her rather than at the Irish woman herself.

"You two extra early today, eh?"

"Ha, something like that."

Steph gives her a look as she nods in Kyra's direction.

"Give the poor girl a break, would ya? I think she's been thoroughly humbled."

Katie snorts in amusement, eyeing her up.

"Eh, she’s fine. I wasn't gonna do anything."

Steph raises a brow at that.

"....Yet."

There it is.

"Of course. Don't mess around too much, though. We still have a game to play, McCabe."

She lets out an unconvincing hum in response, right as some of the other girls start to filter in, Caitlin one of the ones to settle into her cubby beside the defender.

"What's up with the kid?"

Steph snorts.

"Ask your girlfriend. She's been torturing the poor girl."

Caitlin rolls her eyes, turning to Katie, who's now got a cheeky glint in her as she eyes up the younger of the three.

"Katie."

"What? I didn't do any-"

She stops at the look she gets from the Australian, grumbling as she relents and turns back to her cubby.

-------

Kyra's finally able to escape the locker room out of sight of the defender the moment the Irish woman is distracted.

Heading down the hall towards the physio room, she ends up coming face to face with and bumping face first into someone.

She groans when she rubs at her face and her backside from where she landed on it as she stands up again with the help of her assailant.

The person is stood in a royal navy uniform, a patch on her shoulder with three horizontal gold stripes and a small circled loop on the top, hair slicked back and tight into a bun behind her head.

'L/n-Catley' the name badge reads.

Confusion crosses her face which you quickly notice.

"You're Steph's teammate right?"

"Uh yeeaah? Who are you?"

"It's a long story and sorry about the bump there. I uh, I don't know if y'all know yet but I might need your help. The staff were nice enough to let me in but I need an escort here."

"Where are you going?"

"I got told to wait for one of the trainers in the staff room?"

"Can I ask what you're doing?"

"Waiting to see Steph, but don't tell her, it's supposed to be a surprise."

Kyra is extremely sceptical, but she leads you down the hall to where the trainers are situated and one of them recognises you immediately, hugging you and dragging you into the room.

She's even more confused when the staff member is nearly in tears.

Wait.

Navy uniform.

Here to see Steph.

L/n-Catley on the name badge.

There's no way.

"Are you... Are you married to Steph?"

You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yes I am. If you can't tell it's been a little while since we've seen each other."

"Yeah, I can tell, her house is far too empty for the size of it."

"Ah, so you're the new roommate. Kyra, right?"

"She's been talking about me?"

You nod.

"We would call every two weeks. When she found out you were moving to Arsenal, I couldn't tell if she was happy or mad because you'd already trashed her white towels."

"Hey! That was not my fault, the wine just fell... on it's own."

There's a sheepish look on her face.

You chuckle softly.

"She'll be fine, the pattern was ugly anyway, we needed new towels... Don't tell her I said that."

Kyra smiles at that.

"It's great to meet you, then... How are we planning this out?"

"I'll have my sister here sneak me somewhere I can wait and surprise her at the end of the game."

She nods.

"Alright, I better get going then before the girls come looking for me for pitch inspection."

You nod back and give her a warm smile.

"Oh, I'm Y/n, by the way, Lieutenant Commander Y/n L/n-Catley."

-------

The roar of the almost entirely red and white crowd as the girls enter the pitch is as usual, deafeningly loud.

Home games are always the most adrenaline instilling games, ones where their fans are always the loudest, chanting and screaming every time one of their own touches the ball.

Steph can still hardly believe it.

The growth in the game. Breaking records every single home match so far.

The FA Cup semi-final was no different it seems.

Her eyes subtly scan the crowd as she jogs out behind the others, shifting from clapping fan to clapping fan. There's an air about the crowd.

A massively high inducing air, one that she can feel in every nerve ending in her body as she practically bounces around the pitch in warmups.

She brushes it off as it being a semi final type of high.

Aston Villa would be a difficult opponent and she assumed that was the reasoning.

-------

It seems she's proven wrong in the first ten minutes.

It doesn't take long for Stina to score, the home crowd immediately losing their minds, and they barely have time to recover just two minutes later when the Swede swoops in for the double.

By the fourty-fifth minute, they know they have the game. Four to nil over the Villans thanks to a Stina hattrick and a goal from Frida. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears as they approach the final minute.

This is the part they're in the dark. How many minutes left of stoppage? How much longer does she have to defend?

The players are taught not to worry about that. To just play until the whistle blows. And she does.

But she can't help the nagging awaiting of the whistle, wondering when it will go.

The moment it does, there's celebration, relief, and a lot of cheering and screams and congratulation from the air around.

A pair of arms and legs wrap around her from behind as Kyra jumps on her back, the young Australian whooping into her ear.

"Onto the finals, Stephy!"

The defender chuckles and celebrates with the team, the announcer shouting out the home teams win to wind up the crowd once more.

As they do the celebration walk around the pitch, the announcer announces player of the match, and then one more announcement catches her ear.

Her head snaps toward the tunnel the moment she hears it, heart stopping at the words of the female announcer.

"And finally, one last round of applause. Let us congratulate and welcome back someone very special to one of our own. Lieutenant Commander Y/N L/n-Catley returning from fifteen months of duty at sea with the Royal Navy."

And truly, there you are, her wife.

Dressed to the nines in your Black, long sleeved uniform, hands clasped behind you, standing with a wide, almost teary smile as you watch Steph bolt across the pitch towards you, catching her with little effort as she jumps into your arms, knocking the cap off your head with the force.

The rest of the Arsenal girls stand shocked, looking between themselves and their left back at the sudden appearance of a totally new member of the Catley family.

Before they can even try to work out who you might be to Steph, the defender has her lips pressed to yours tightly, tears streaming down your face.

The sensation of finally being able to kiss you, her wife. HER wife, has her trembling against you, her stomach twisting and curling as you hold her tight against you, your own hands shaking as they rest on her back.

It had been the longest stint you'd gone without seeing each other, having been on a cramped ship for the majority of that time.

Even having been used to long times apart, the immense relief of being able to hold your person, your love, YOUR wife, after so long. was like nothing else you'd ever experienced.

And you were glad you had all the time in the world to experience it now.

When Steph's finally able to pull back and look you in the eye, hands holding your face, eyes scanning your features, noting a small scar under your right brow, and then returning to make eye contact again with you, albeit very tearily, much like yourself.

Lifting your own hands, your thumbs swipe away the tears on her cheeks, leaning down once more to kiss her, forehead leaning against hers.

You take in the immensity of the screams of the crowd all of a sudden, especially the crowd around the players' tunnel.

With that, she buries herself back into your hold, her nose buried into the crook of your neck.

Your eyes scan the pitch, watching the applauding or shocked expressions of the players.

You'd already known her teammates didn't know she was married, however their shocked expressions still have you chuckling.

All except Kyra's wide smile as she watches the two of you and you give the girl a wink.

"I can't believe it. You're here."

It's half whimpered into your shoulder, and you just barely hear it over the crowd.

"I'm here. I'm home."

"They finally let you on leave?"

She's using a half joking tone beneath the watery chokes and sobs.

"Better than that, Love."

She pulls away shocked.

"You mean.."

You smile down at her teary eyed.

"I'm home for good, not retired but they're giving me an office in London. Full time hours still but I won't be needed for duty anymore."

She frowns softly after a second.

She knew you'd always hated the idea of an office job.

Catching the look on her face, you knew what she'd be thinking about.

"I don't care where it is, or what I'm doing. I'm just glad I'm home, with you. I've had my fill of travelling and front line work for a lifetime."

Leaning your forehead back against hers, you let the moment sink in.

You'd known it was coming for months now, haven spoken to your superiors, and them letting you know there was a position available remotely, you'd taken it in a heartbeat.

If it meant coming home to your girl, you'd have done anything.

A small throat clearing a couple feet from you, the team had moved to stand around the pair of you, eager to ask questions of the brunette in your arms.

You nudge her softly with a small giggle in her ear.

"Babe, I think they have questions."

"They can wait a little longer."

You don't fight her on it just letting her settle into you again, holding you tightly.

The moment she does let go, she's grabbed by the shoulders and interrogated by the team rather swiftly.

Leah stands arms crossed.

"Now Stephy, when did this occur?"

Steph sheepishly smiles around her at her.

"Alright alright, Gunners, meet my beautiful wife, Y/n. She's been in the navy since she turned eighteen, we met five years ago when she was on leave in Australia. We started dating less than a month later and she left on duty about four months later. We got married after three years, bought a house right before she left a year and a bit ago. We haven't seen each other in person since then. Until now, that is."

And just like that, you're immediately dragged into the group rather swiftly, squished into several hugs.

A firm handshake and then a tight hug from their captain, especially. The Scot making firm well you know how quickly she'd bury you should you hurt their defender, despite the fact you'd known Steph longer and you chuckle, nodding in agreement at the stern look turned cracked smile she lets go.

When you're finally free, Steph takes no time tucking herself under your arm and wrapping hers around you, looking up at you slightly with a proud, elated smile, eyes still slightly teary.

Returning the expression, you press a small kiss to her nose.

"Welcome home, Baby."

You shake your head.

"Congrats on the win, Baby, this is your moment right now. Go celebrate for a bit, we've got all the time in the world now."

She pouts but relents with a small peck and nudge.

"KYRA, YOU KNEW?!"

The shouts of the Irish captain make her jump but chuckle a little as a gloating midfielder teases the rest of the girls.

Yeah. She was in for it.

-------

[doberbutts]

hello! I'm the one that sent you that ask a week or so ago. Sorry I didn't check to see if you'd answered for a while because I was just so upset and had to take a second. I will say I scrolled through a bunch of helpful posts you reblogged before I even found the ask again that helped a LOT.

Two things I thought you might want to know is that it wasn't speculation that you'd blocked the weirdo blog that sent me your way: they literally have "proudly blocked by doberbutts" in their bio which was why i felt safe coming to you lmao. Second is I guess my struggle with this issue was an overall struggle with how bad wider misogyny has gotten in general and how muddied it's gotten with the "male loneliness crisis" and like, centering men's issues under patriarchy and just how insanely upset it's been making me. Seeing cis MRAs identify with trans men freaked me out because like, yeah it's important to talk about how (cis) men suffer under patriarchy but it's just so rare for me to find men do that without devolving into misogyny, and I start to feel so helpless because I know validating these issues matter but women are being literally dehumanized openly. I do play oppression olympics with this specific issue and just of COURSE women suffer more under patriarchy, but the same men who demand space to air how they suffer won't acknowledge that truth. (sorry for soapboxing; some of them do! It's just...things are so bad for women rn lol it's really hard to have compassion when it feels like none is being given to me).

So the more I see this issue the more I think people are being affected by larger misogyny like I am, but are doing the typical thing that happens where you lash out at a group you can "reach." Policing and harassing trans men's behaviours is way easier than cis men. I've also been seeing some parallels between this discourse and the "gay men vs lesbian women" discourse. It's not really a one-to-one but the discussion of the role of misogyny re homophobia towards gay men who still have male privilege but, come on, if they have feminine affectation it's Different and the back and forth that used to happen when gay men and lesbian women did oppression olympics, it just feels similar.

idk as i type this I hope I don't come across disingenuous or like, my Too Casual Overly Respectful tone is trying to subtly incept you. I worry my vibes are too "women first" but I just can't help it misogyny really is ruining my life 😭. Anyways I'm very grateful for your perspective and your blog. I feel more settled and equipped to push back against anti transmasculine behaviour with rhetoric that can actually challenge people

To respond to each point in turn:

1: Again I still don't really know who that is, though I am somewhat bemused by the idea that someone I clearly don't really remember is still so obsessed with me that they're proud I've blocked them. For the record, my block list is as follows: people who send anonymous hate, people who continue to harass me after I've told them to stop, people I catch with posts containing inexcusable bigotry, obvious trolls, self-identified zoophiles and MAPs, and people who repeatedly send me fundraisers after I have already said I only share fundraisers from people I know and trust. Being on my block list is, um, not really good company, so it's kind of funny to me that someone is proud to be there. Yeah I'm sure they'll fit right in with the neo-nazis and dogfuckers and cyber bullies. Oh and I guess my ex but I only blocked them after they started harassing me about our failed relationship years later. Enjoy block hell I suppose.

2: I'm not really here to play who has it worse, not because I don't recognize the wider understanding of privilege vs oppression but because I think it is a self-defeating thread of thought because you will always find a "more oppressed" example, and I think that people should be allowed to talk about their hurts regardless of their status of "more oppressed" vs "less oppressed". Talking about the ways society has hurt them is not what makes MRAs dangerous. What makes them dangerous is who they blame, how they go about fixing their problem, and the solutions to their problems they come up with.

To be quite frank, the majority of MRAs are men who have experienced some form of social rejection or isolation. Most have been sold some patriarchal lie about how by being men they inherently deserve good sex with hot women on demand, a wife at home to keep barefoot and pregnant, a high paying job where they are respected and valued regardless of the effort they themselves put into it, and all the luxuries that lifestyle can afford. This is a fantasy, you and I both know it. And when these men realize the hard reality that we live in an age of extreme social isolation, that in order to have a partner you need to actually have more personality than a used dishrag and with only half the mess at max, that good sex is about give and take and not just yourself, that these high paying jobs are few and far between with most takers being born into some level of wealth rather than any merit they themselves have earned... they lash out.

It does not at all help things to understand that many of these MRAs are themselves marginalized in some way, but their framework not only doesn't let them see it but also advocates a harsh rejection of anyone who is self-aware enough to realize it. A lot of these guys are undiagnosed, have trauma, and are just as affected by the systems of racism, classism, homo- and trans-phobia, xenophobia, sexism, and ableism as the rest of us.

Quite frankly, I'd rather these dudes see a group of (trans) men fighting for our place in society by joining hands with other activists with more feminist, black-friendly, disabled-friendly, gay- and trans-friendly in an attempt to lift everyone out of the pit rather than continuing to fight over scraps... than to see them continue to blame women and Jews and then go shoot up a school or a mall about it. One of these helps. The other just kills people and excuses rape. There's a lot of value in deradicalizing people by offering them a path to resolving their pain that is perhaps less destructive and more constructive.

This is also why the constant comparison to MRAs annoys me. MRAs kill people in senseless acts of terror and despair because they're upset that they're not having the sex fantasy the patriarchy sold them. Trans men talking about our oppression- regardless of the word we use to express it- are mostly talking amongst ourselves about suicide and rape statistics and sharing ways to get hormones and surgery despite unwilling doctors and insurance companies. We're talking about how our social groups rejected us the moment we came out, or how people use us being men against us in ways that was not happening before we came out or passed. These are not at all equivalent conversations.

3: Again I ask you- I see people using both cis and trans feminist frameworks to hurt other people. Where is your concern for that? I am equally concerned about TERFs as I am about MRAs, as they have driven multiple transgender people and our allies to suicide and even have committed acts of violence against people irl as a result of their ideology. Most TERFs will also be the first ones to tell you that they have been hurt, deeply, by men and that they also are frequently undiagnosed or untreated, traumatized, and affected by the same systems of oppression. Does their existence and their determination to latch onto every feminist conversation including those of people who are staunchly against them then poison all feminism to you? If not, then why make that distinction for trans men and MRAs?

I am black. I am Indigenous. I am transgender. I am gay. I am disabled. I am poor. I suffer. People hurt me. I see every day how bad things are. Do you think I cannot see it, or that my ignorance is the reason for my request for compassion? Perhaps consider that it is rather my knowledge and my lived experience that fuel my call for compassion, instead. I never said it would be easy. But I do think it would make a better world.

4: I do actually agree that it is very similar to the gay man vs lesbian conversation and have said for a while that it's the same queer infighting discussion we've already hashed out for the last 50 or so years, but the target groups just swapped out. It's just butchphobia, it's just biphobia, it's just aphobia, it's just panphobia, it's just nbphobia- it's the same fucking shit over and over and over again. It was shit infighting before and it's shit infighting now. Privilege is a conversation that depends so heavily on context, and the way it has been bastardized by the internet's poor understanding of political frameworks developed by women of color and their allies into cute soundbites and phrases rather than a deep, nuanced knowledge will never fail to annoy me.

Do gay men have privilege over lesbians? As a class, sure, they would have male privilege. But what do we mean by male privilege? The privilege to not worry about being assaulted on the street? To walk home late at night unbothered? To marry who they want, to have the romantic partner they desire, to feel safe within a domestic partnership? You and I both know that doesn't quite match up to the lived experience of gay men worldwide or even here in the "gay paradise" US. How does this interact with other marginalizations? Does a black gay man have privilege over a white lesbian? What happens if he's a drag queen dressed up for an event and she's a butch that passes for cis male? Does that change retroactively if this "gay man" figures out she's actually a transbian 5 years later, and the lesbian is a TERF? I'm not saying this breaks the framework of male privilege- I am saying that sometimes the theory doesn't match the reality, and a nuanced and intersectional understanding is required when talking on an individual scope rather than class politics.

Additionally- as a side note- it is also incredibly annoying to watch people act like privilege = oppressor = dangerous, and oppressed = victim = safe. Privilege, and whether or not you have any, is not a moral indicator nor is it an indicator of the safety of the person you're interacting with. I have privilege over people who cannot walk, because I can. I am not objectively or systemically oppressing people who cannot walk by the use of my legs in my day-to-day life. Oppression is action- if I vote for policies and politicians that removes ramps and safety regulations and provisions to assist wheelchair users? Now I am oppressing people who cannot walk. If I block or move or interfere with the disability aids, if I mock people or assault or harm them, if I dump them out of their mobility aids or break them, that is oppression. The act of climbing the 3 stairs on my front porch to get into my house is a privilege, but the oppression stems from the people who built my house to even have stairs on both exits.

5: lastly to end a very long post, I don't actually think there's any harm in centering yourself when discussing things that objectively affect you, as long as you remember to include others who are affected and let them have their floor to also center themselves when they need to speak up. I am a black trans man. My politics are pretty centered on black feminism. I don't think that is objectively a bad thing. I prefer to let the demographics with similar problems speak for themselves- I would rather my trans fem friends get the mic when they open their mouths, my lesbian friends, my Jewish friends, my latino and asian and arab friends. I don't think there's anything wrong with them centering their own problems and outlooks, as long as they recognize that there's shared space to be had with others who feel similar hurts. I think it's pretty normal to center yourself. I think the difficult thing is knowing when to relinquish the megaphone to someone who's been dying to use it, while you yourself still have so much to say.

[skzdust]

You're Better

Part 2

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

Request from @velvetmoonlght! I'm sorry it took so long, hope it was worth the wait!!

Summary: Felix and you have had a slightly strange relationship since fucking in the library last week. You're getting together for a "study session" tonight at Felix's apartment, but what happens when his roommate Bang Chan gets home...

Pairing: Academic rival!Felix x afab (she/her) reader

Includes: rivalry, penetrative sex, rivals with feelings, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex (please use condoms and pee after sex!), oral sex (m receiving), begging, hair pulling, "good girl", surprise but consensual voyeurism, fingering

Word count: 1.5k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!! Thank you for reading!!

Part 1 | Part 3

Masterlist

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When you’d gone over to Felix’s apartment, you’d planned for it to be a study session, you really had.

But you weren’t complaining now that his fingers were inside you. You moaned, leaning your head back. “Fuck, Felix.”

“You want more, baby?” He curled his fingers up, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Yes, please, want your cock inside me.”

Felix made a strangled groan. “God, I’m so screwed.”

“What?” You opened your eyes, looking up at him.

“You.” He said simply, moving faster.

You swallowed another moan, keeping eye contact with him. “What does that mean?”

“I still hate you.”

“I thought you wanted to go on a date with me?”

He thrust his fingers into you, and you inhaled sharply. Pleasure washed over your body like a wave, and you whined as his other hand tangled in your hair.

“I did. I do. That’s the issue.” He all but growled. “I want to be better than you at everything, and I wanna fuck you sore, but I also wanna take you out to dinner.” He says it with disdain, his grip tightening in your hair.

“So?”

“I’m not used to it. I don’t like it.”

“Have you considered maybe you just have a little crush on me?” You grinned.

He rolled his eyes and pulled his fingers out of you. “Want me to stop?”

“No, no!”

He teased around your entrance. “Then we’re done talking about feelings.”

“Okay, we’re done talking about feelings.” You whimpered. “Will you fuck me now?”

He laughed, low and dangerous, unwinding his fingers from your hair and letting you go. “Yeah, baby.”

Felix and you have had a strange relationship since first fucking in the library a week ago. You’d come to his apartment one evening a couple of days later, needy, and he’d happily fucked you again. And now here you were, on his couch, a throw pillow propping your hips up as he unbuckled his belt.

The date he’d mentioned—as well as further discussion on what exactly this meant—hadn’t happened. You’d had a brief talk in the library about sexual boundaries, clarifying and elaborating upon what you’d agreed to in the heat of the moment, and you mentioned your IUD. Your conversation just now was about as deep as you’d gotten emotionally, though.

But you didn’t even care about that as his belt fully came off and he pulled out his cock. Actually, the ache between your legs became the only thing you really cared about.

He looked at you, gently stroking himself. “Open your mouth.”

“What?” You said, but followed his instruction.

“Good girl.” He pushed the fingers that had just been inside you into your mouth. “Wanna clean off my fingers for me before we start?”

You moaned around his fingers, tasting yourself. He pressed down on your tongue, and you opened your mouth wider. “Good.” He muttered before taking them out, leaving your lips parted and your eyes big. “God, you look like you were made to take cock in that pretty mouth.”

“Then take my mouth.” You whispered.

He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“If you want me to suck you off first, and then fuck me…” You bit your lip, wondering if he’d go for it.

“God, baby, you’re gonna be the death of me.” He whispered, then motioned to the floor with a nod of his head. “On your knees, ‘kay?”

You couldn’t get there fast enough, kneeling by the couch.

Felix’s fingers ran through your hair, and you closed your eyes, the sensation intimate.

“Can you open your mouth for me, gorgeous? Can’t wait to feel your throat around me.” He gently tugged back on your hair so you were looking up at him.

Jesus. He was pretty from every angle, but looking up at him from between his legs was a new one. You opened your mouth.

Felix maintained eye contact with you as he eased himself into your mouth, letting out a low moan. “Shit, you feel good.”

Felix began to gently fuck your mouth. His fingers twisted in your hair, and the not quite pain only turned you on more. You whined, high and pathetic.

“Want me inside your pussy, baby?” He crooned. “Want me deep inside you? Want me to cum inside?”

“Yes,” You moaned around him, your eyes unfocusing as you focused on breathing between his strokes. “Yes, I do.”

“Good girl. Good, good girl. Fuck, so good for me.”

He kept going, and you swam in a haze of strong sensations and “good girl”s and the aching need burning in your veins until you could tell from the sounds he made and the way he twitched that he was close, and he—

The lock to the apartment door clicked and opened.

You both froze, looking up.

Felix’s roommate, Bang Chan, stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “Um…”

“Chan!” Felix nearly jumped away from you, fingers shaking as he did up his fly. “I—er—sorry to do things in the living room—”

“No need to apologize.” Chan’s eyes dropped to you, and he smiled. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

“You know my name?” You turned to Felix, wiping the spit off your chin. “Have you been talking about me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Only to complain.”

“Complain about how you drive him crazy!” Chan locked the door behind him. “Felix is really into you, and—”

“Shut up!” Felix death stared at Chan.

You laughed. “So you do have a little crush on me!”

He turned his glare on you. “Chan is messing with you.”

“Sure.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Well, I mean, don’t stop on my account.” Chan waved his hand and started to walk to his room, you guessed.

“Y/n…” Felix looked at you.

“Yeah?”

“We talked a little about voyeurism when we were in the library, if you remember that.”

“I do.” You nodded, smiling. You could tell where this was going, and you were excited.

“Do you want to ask Chan if he wants to watch?” He all but purred.

“Chan?” You said loudly, in response.

He turned around. “Hm?”

“Do you wanna watch?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Do you wanna watch Felix fuck me on your couch?”

Chan looks to Felix. “You’d be okay with me watching?”

“More than okay.” Felix’s hands suddenly moved back to your hair. He knew it was your weak point, and you moaned as he tugged on it. “C’mon, come watch me fuck my girl.”

If you weren’t kneeling, you might’ve fallen over.

My girl.

Felix’s girl.

It turned you on more than you could effectively express.

Chan sat down in one of the living room chairs, unzipping his pants. “Don’t mind me.”

Felix smirked. “Let’s put on a show for Chan, baby.”

You nodded, opening your mouth again.

“You’ve earned my cock at this point, on your back.”

You eagerly climbed onto the couch, pushing the pillow back under your hips and spreading your legs. Felix lined himself up with your entrance, then looked over at Chan. “Watch her face. She just falls apart on my cock. You’ll see.”

Your body was on fire with desire, and Felix’s words only stoked the flames. When he pushed inside you, your mouth fell open, the taste of his cock still on your tongue, and you let out a moan that might’ve been Felix’s name.

“Fuck.” Chan said, his voice heavy. “She is falling apart. It’s really fucking hot.”

“Isn’t it?”

Something about the way they talked about you, as if you weren’t there, was turning you on even more. Your hips bucked up, seeking friction.

Felix held them down. “Oh, baby, let me take my time.” He seated himself entirely inside you, and then… nothing. He didn’t fuck you, just occasionally twitched inside you.

You whined. “Fuck me, please.”

Chan’s voice was a low rumble. “She’s so fucking needy.”

“I know.” Felix gave you one thrust, and you sighed in pleasure.

“Felix, more, please.”

“Begging.” Chan noted. “Bet you love that shit, Lix.”

“You’re right, I do.” Felix thrust into you twice. “When she tells me she’s close, and begs me to keep going, begs me to cum, that’s the best part.” He stilled again. “But I wanna drag this out, since you’re here. Drive her a little insane.”

“Felix, please, please don’t drag it out, let me cum.”

He laughed and looked at you, eyes smoldering. “I’m gonna fuck you how I please, alright, baby? Tell me yellow or red if you need to, and we’ll go from there, but if you don’t, I’m gonna keep teasing you.” He fucked into you again, looked back at Chan. “I’m gonna let her cum, but I wanna make her work for it, first.”

“Yes, Felix.” You whined.

“Don’t make her wait too long.” Chan said. “I wanna see what that pretty face looks like when it’s too drunk on your cock to think.”

You involuntarily tightened around Felix at that, and he groaned. “I think she’s pretty cock drunk already, but don’t worry, Chan. We’re just getting started."

[hiraethminds]

This is a tangent, I'm here to entertain with needless rambling

The deep rooted hatred for taco I see in the II community genuinely concerns me. Especially since those people tend to be Mephone "apologists"(For lack of a better word, I love Mephone don't get me wrong) despite how taco is the "active" side of the coin to his "passive". The connections between them are there trust me Im connecting the dots. Ive connected them.

I understand that she's done bad things, but blaming her for her shortcomings when she doesn't and never had the same support group to change as Mephone did makes me a little ehh.. Getting upset because Microphone showed her support in the new episodes simply because you don't like the ship(I understand why people wouldnt but thats not an excuse to deny her anything), and because Taco doesn't know how to change yet and you refuse to see her as anything redeemable. I'm not big on shipping, thats not the point of this tangent, but Taco finally having someone to support her and help her change is a GOOD thing. Microphone was being the bigger person there, she was being mature and thoughtful because Taco clearly needs the help. The fact that people continue to deny Taco any kind of growth even if she goes about it in the wrong way makes me deeply uncomfortable. Because the moment any character does anything bad that isn't HER they don't say anything about it. She was shunned by her peers because she was playing the game and continued to 'play the game' so to speak.

Theres a deep rooted hint of misogyny in the way they treat her, but I wont yap about that you dont need to read allat.

I understand people have reasons for not liking characters! That's ok. But I've seen them actively go out of their way to harass people that DO like Taco and actively criticize enjoying her character.

They tend to take it as defending her actions. Which is not what's happening. I don't think oscommunity could handle vriska is all I'm saying.

Feel free to not answer this I just need whatever little imp is telling me to scream about it to get out. go draw a taco dis is driving me crazy

Thank you for dumping this in my inbox bigbarf200, I feel like a wise confidant.

okay so I don't interact/observe with the wider ii community (Mainly cuz i like playing with my touys without being bothered) So this information is so Interesting to me!!!

As you mentioned, the hate might stem from misogyny (and by the way, I’d love to read your essay—talk all you want, my friend!). This is a societal issue that affects every part of life.

That said, I also think some people might dislike her simply because she’s a hustler and stubborn. When she has a goal, she’ll do whatever it takes to achieve it, even if it means crossing into morally gray areas.

holding Mepad hostage > hijacking the show

lying and deceiving objects with good intentions > winning s1

seriously hurting Fan > winning Mic immunity

as you said in the greater scheme of things, she's genuinely done horrible things. But if you just accept that at face value you are missing out on such an amazing character. You have to consider her perspective and the circumstances of her birth (especially in a story like ii!!) to fully understand and come to an option on her. But I digress this is baby level analysis so ill move on.

people who think Mic being friendly towards Taco post e14 is out of character are misunderstanding Microphone as both a character and thematic device I think

that's literally the only rational reason I could think of as to why people would be mad about taco and mic being on good terms???

so yeah, these haters just sound like crazy irrational people who have a lot of pent-up emotions. crazy

anyways ty!!! I feel like I didn't have alot to add since, as stated, these people are just incredibly irrational. but its nice getting an earful of whagh the fuck the community is like. here are soem taco drawings for the occasion

[alastors-antlers]

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

[royalarchivist]

I haven't said much about the QSMP Admin situation on Royal Archivist because I don't think every issue needs commentary from the peanut gallery, especially since most comments rarely contribute anything meaningful to the wider conversation.

However—

It's very sad seeing how hostile people are being towards each other right now. I know there are a lot of strong emotions and opinions about this issue (understandably– I've been in this situation many times as a freelancer, I Get It) but that does not excuse the behavior I've seen, nor does it excuse the hate, racism, harassment, and xenophobia.

Regardless of your opinion on how well things are being handled right now, and regardless of whether or not you want to step away from the series or continue engaging with it while trusting things will be resolved — harassing fellow fans, ex-admins or current admins, CCs, the French union, etc. doesn't help anyone.

There is NO excuse for spreading hate on behalf of anyone or anything, be it the server, Quackity, the admins, the other workers, or anyone else. This isn't the Crusades; you aren't fighting a holy war in the name of God, you're on social media fighting about a Minecraft series. Put the pitchforks down and take a break.

I'm not gonna get into my opinion on the matter (on here) further than this because like I said, peanut gallery talk and all that, but I've seen how amazing the QSMP community is, and how amazing we can be, I want our community to improve just like I want the server to improve.

Be kinder to each other, and take a break if you need to! It's important for us to be kind to ourselves too. If things are making you extremely distressed, it's better to take a step away from things.

In the wise words of FitMC: when in doubt, log the fuck out!

[acknowledge-reigns]

Needy | Jey Uso x Reader (featuring Roman x OC)

Description: Reader has been feeling down with Jey being on the road so much + Roman and Jey bring their girls food while they're getting their hair done.

Warnings: Discussion of depression and anxiety, doubts, suggestive behavior and language, mild angst, fluff.

requested by: @wrestlingbaby

My masterlist can be found here.

You and your best friend Nettie walk into the cozy salon, the scent of hair products filling the air. The salon is empty, save for sisters Elysia and Desia, your other two friends who are chatting with each other at the front desk. They co-own the Salon D+E Beauty.

"Hey, y'all!" Elysia greets you with a warm smile as you enter. "Long time no see!"

Desia nods in agreement, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"We were wondering when you two were gonna show up!" she says, grinning. "We've got the whole place to ourselves today, so we can take our time with your hair. Which is good cause y'all 15 minutes late."

Elysia and Desia usher you and Nettie over to the chairs, pulling out hair products, combs and brushes. They start getting to work, sectioning off your hair expertly.

"How's life been treating you girls?" Desia asks, her fingers moving deftly through your hair.

Nettie laughs, settling into her chair. "Busy as always," she says. "Work, the kids, family drama... you know how it is."

Nettie was a mom of five, married to Roman Reigns. With her husband being so busy doing everything required of him as quite literally the biggest star in wrestling to day, being a stay at home mom with her own online shop kept her on constant go.

Elysia nods sympathetically, her hands never slowing down as she works on Nettie's hair. "Tell me about it," she says. "I've been swamped with clients lately. I barely have time to breathe."

Desia grins, rolling her eyes. "That's an understatement," she says. "She's practically living at the salon these days."

Elysia sticks her tongue out at Desia, pretending to be offended. "Hey, it's not my fault I'm in demand," she says. "People can't resist my magic touch."

Desia chuckles to herself as she begins to seperate the pieces of vibrant ombre blue and black braiding hair for your head while Elysia did fhe same from Nettie, though her hair was a red and black ombre instead.

Elysia catches Desia's chuckle and shoots her a playful glare. "What are you laughing at?" she asks, pretending to be annoyed.

Desia just grins wider, clearly enjoying teasing her friend.

"Oh, nothing," she says innocently. "Just thinking about how humble you are."

"Anywayyy, Y/N, you're quiet. What's going on with you?" Elysia asks looking over at you in Desia's chair

You smile softly, your eyes flickering up to meet Elysia's gaze in the mirror.

"It's.. complicated." You let out a sigh.

"Complicated how?" Desia asked.

"Complicated like.. I've just been down lately, with Jey on the road so much..." You shared with your girls.

Nettie frowns, concern etched on her face. "I know that's tough," she says, "Back when Roman was on the road more I had the same issue. I'm so thankful for his reduced schedule these days."

It was nice to have a friend that actually understood what it meant to be a wrestling wife. Not just a wrestling wife but a bloodline wife. All four women were close, they'd all known each other since college but only you and Nettie share that specific connection.

"Have you guys talked about it?" Desia asked.

"Well.. No." You sighed.

"You know he'd want to know how you're feeling, right?" Elysia says. "He loves you, and he wouldn't want you to suffer in silence."

"Elysia's right," Nettie says. "Jey's not a mind reader. He needs to know when something's bothering you."

"I don't want to seem.. Needy. Or high maintenance." You stated.

Elysia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with your thoughts.

"You're not needy or high maintenance," she says firmly. "You're a person who has needs and feelings, just like anyone else. And Jey loves you for exactly who you are, including the times when you need him."

Nettie gives you another reassuring glance

"Seriously, girl," she says. "Don't let your insecurities get in the way of communication with Jey. It's not doing you any favors, and it's not fair to him either."

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A couple of hours later, the girls' hair is about half done. Nettie had texted Roman that the two of you needed him and Jey to bring you some food since it was going to be another hour or two and you both were starving.

The door to the salon swings open, and Roman and Jey walk in, carrying takeout bags.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Nettie teases, glancing over at the two men.

Jey grins, his eyes lighting up as he sees you standing there scrolling on your phone. He sets the bags down on the front desk and strides over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Hey, baby," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck.

You lean back into his embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. The familiar scent of his cologne fills your nostrils, and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around you.

"Missed you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. "You look beautiful, by the way."

He glances up at the half-done braids, his eyes filled with admiration. "You got that blue for me?"

You smile softly, a mix of warmth and affection filling your chest.

"Of course I did," you say, tilting your head back to look at him. "I knew you'd like me matching your gear."

Jey grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I love it," he says, his voice low and seductive. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing patterns on your waist.

Roman rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his head at his cousin's obvious PDA. "Can you two get a room already?" he jokes.

Jey just chuckles, tightening his grip on you possessively.

"Don't mind if we do," he retorts, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

"He must really miss you too, Y/N. And you thought you would seem needy." Desia accidentally lets slip.

Jey's expression immediately softens, and he glances down at you, concern etched on his face.

"What's she talking about, baby?" he asks, his voice gentle.

The girls exchange guilty looks, realizing they may have inadvertently let something slip. Roman just sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Uh oh, Jey's in trouble," he mutters in a teasing tone to his cousin.

"Oh, shush!" Nettie scolded Roman with a light smack to his muscular chest.

Jey raises an eyebrow, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"Hey, don't ignore me," he says, his tone firm but still gentle. "What did Desia mean by that?"

"We'll talk when I get home, okay?" You offered.

Jey looks like he wants to press further, but he knows better than to push you when you're not ready to talk. He nods reluctantly, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Alright, we'll talk later," he agrees, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

The tension in the room is palpable as the others exchange glances, knowing that there's clearly something unspoken between you and Jey. Roman and Nettie both look uncomfortable, while Desia bites her lip, silently scolding herself for her slip-up.

The air seems to thicken as Jey reluctantly releases you from his embrace. He gives your hand a final squeeze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what's bothering you.

"I love you" He says.

You return the sentiment, your voice soft and sincere.

"I love you too," you say, mustering a small smile.

The others remain silent, the atmosphere in the salon now a mixture of tension and awkwardness as the guys take their leave.

Once the door shuts behind them, Desia lets out a sigh.

"I'm sorry," she says, guilt evident in her voice. "I didn't mean to let that slip out like that."

"It's fine. I needed that nudge to talk to him anyway" You said.

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The rest of the braiding session goes by quickly, and soon enough, you're all finished. The girls bid you farewell, promising to meet up again soon.

You gather your things and head out to your car, the weight of the conversation with Jey looming over you.

The drive home is silent, your mind racing with thoughts of what to say to Jey. When you finally arrive home, you take a deep breath and step inside, steeling yourself for the inevitable conversation.

You find Jey in the living room, sprawled out on the couch and scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

"Hey," he says, his voice cautious. "You're home."

He sets his phone down and pats the space next to him on the couch, silently inviting you to sit down. His expression is a mixture of curiosity and concern, clearly wanting to know what's been going on with you.

You take a seat beside him, the silence between you thick with tension. Jey turns to face you, his gaze unwavering.

"So," he says, breaking the silence. "Care to explain what Desia meant earlier?"

Jey waits patiently, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows you well enough to give you the space to gather your thoughts and find the right words.

After a moment of silence, you take a deep breath and finally speak up.

"I've been feeling... neglected," you admit, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Jey's expression darkens, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Neglected how?" he asks, his voice tight.

You can see the concern and guilt in his eyes, but there's also a hint of anger, as if he's upset with himself for not noticing sooner.

"You've been working a lot lately, Being champion has you on the road even more." you say softly. "And when you're home, you're either on the phone or working out or watching TV. It feels like I hardly ever get to spend time with you anymore."

Jey's shoulders slump slightly, the weight of your words hitting him hard. He looks away, guilt written all over his face.

"Damn it," he mutters under his breath. "I had no idea I was making you feel that way."

"I just miss you is all. And I struggle a lot when you're on the road, with my anxiety and depression and i didn't know how to tell you without sounding needy.." you explain.

Jey's heart clenches at your words, and he reaches out to take your hand in his.

"You're not needy, baby," he says firmly, looking into your eyes.

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, burying his face in your hair. "I never meant to neglect you like that. I've just been so focused on work and trying to prove myself that I lost sight of what really matters."

He holds you even tighter, as if he's afraid to let go.

"I promise I'll do better," he says, his voice full of determination. "I'll make more time for you, no matter what. When I'm home, I'm all yours, babygirl."

Jey pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes.

"I love you so damn much," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you never feel neglected again. You mean everything to me, and I'm sorry if I ever made you doubt that."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

"You're my priority, not work, not the title, not anything else," he murmurs against your lips. "You come first, always."

He deepens the kiss, pouring all of his love and regret into it. His hands slide down your body, pulling you closer until you're practically in his lap.

"I love you, y/n," he whispers, breaking the kiss to nuzzle your neck.

"I love you too, Jey.." You said.

Jey's lips find your neck, and he presses a series of gentle kisses against your skin.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body possessively.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looks at you.

"Let me make it up to you," he says, his voice low and rough. "Let me show you just how much I love and need you."

Without waiting for a response, he scoops you up into his arms and stands up from the couch. He carries you effortlessly to the bedroom, his grip on you tight and possessive.

"I'ma show you, baby.. I'ma take care of you."

[ceilidhtransing]

I feel like so much shitty discourse could be avoided if people more consciously bore in mind the fact that Mainstream Society and The Queer Community are, you know, meaningfully different spaces that often have different social phenomena and different issues.

Random example, there'll be a discussion about femininity often being prized over masculinity, especially transmasculinity, in some queer spaces. And there'll be a bunch of transmasculine people talking about being made to feel unwelcome once they came out, feeling pressured to identify as nonbinary rather than as a binary man as that receive less hostility, being increasingly isolated and othered once they started T, feeling pressured to act more feminine and GNC, being told that their presence as a man makes others in the space uncomfortable, etc.

And then inevitably someone will respond with something like “OP what fucking planet are you on. You're fucking insane if you think femininity is prized over masculinity in society. And the idea that nonbinary people have privilege over binary trans people - what is this fucking enbyphobic bullshit? God, some people are so stuck in an echo chamber of terminally online tumblr queers with their invented problems that they've forgotten what it's like in the real world.”

But was the discussion about wider mainstream society? Or was it very particularly about the queer community and issues that these people have faced specifically within that community?

The queer community is a subculture (arguably many subcultures but let's try to keep it simple), and it's totally, utterly standard for subcultures to - even deliberately, as an act of pushback - value different things from the mainstream culture. Aesthetics thought of as “weird” or “[insert slur here]” by the mainstream can be highly prized in the queer community. Identities that are all thought of as equally “fucked-up” and “cringe” by the mainstream can find themselves organised into some weird hierarchy of validity and oppressed-ness within the community. Politics which are considered extremely fringe and radical by the mainstream can be considered the default norm, even a necessity, in the queer community. Gender expressions that are seen as the most basic “normal” thing ever in the mainstream can be devalued by the queer community for “not looking queer enough” or “being straight-passing”. And none of this is a contradiction because this is pretty much how subcultures operate! They assert different values and cultural norms from the culture they exist within and that's partly what makes them subcultures.

So if someone's pointing out “I face this issue specifically when I'm interacting with queer spaces”, it doesn't do the conversation any good to assume that they're talking about mainstream society and attack them for “being deluded about how the real world works” or “inventing fake problems to sound more oppressed” or something. (And the inverse - someone pointing out “I face this issue when I'm interacting with the mainstream” and someone else responding with “I don't know what you're talking about; I never face that issue at all [in my exclusively queer friend group and support network]” - is far rarer, but it does still happen, and it's just as unhealthy for the discussion. Probably the most common example of this I can think of is when cis gay and lesbian people discuss homophobia they've faced, for instance to do with their gender expression, and someone goes “but that doesn't happen, because actually cis gays are a privileged group and I've never seen anyone attack their presentations” - yes, because the frame of reference you're using is the queer community, where being gay is pretty much the expected default, and you're forgetting that in mainstream society, even cisgender gays and lesbians are by no means “a privileged group” that experiences no oppression ever.)

People need to be able to discuss issues in the specific social contexts they're talking about without it being basically guaranteed that someone will misinterpret them and start jumping down their throat in anger at something that wasn't even said or implied. It is so bad for the community when people seemingly can't fathom that the dynamics at play might be different within queer spaces versus out in mainstream society and it leads to so much pointless toxicity and aggressive misunderstanding.

[sv5hive]

in every universe? | cl16

pairing(s): charles leclerc x fem!reader

content warning(s): use of y/n, pretending the university of monaco has an architecture course shhhh, inaccurate architecture course information bcos i am lazy, ma**ia bin**to mention IM SORRY

word count: 2,580

note: this is my longesttt fic yet and i had so much fun writing it!! i hope you like it just as much 🫶🏻

masterlist!

"so in summary, i want to see how you will finance your project while keeping your budget in mind, any issues you may come across and their solutions, the influence behind it, how it might impact the environment and the population as well as visual aids to guide the audience. these presentations are due next month and remember! it is your responsibility to arrange times to work on the presentation together. i won't be accepting any excuses whatsoever!"

you chewed on the end of your pen at your professor's reminder as you watched everyone filter out the doors from your seat right at the back.

group projects always meant you would have to do all the work yourself just to share equal credit with everyone else in the group who didn't even attempt to contribute. this project was unlikely to be any different. it didn't help that you hadn't yet managed to make any genuine friendships with your classmates. it was understandable though, considering the expected workload at such a renowned university like monaco.

"hi, are you y/n l/n?"

too deep in your own thoughts about the assignment, you didn't realise the room had emptied completely. you also didn't realise other people apart from your professor knew your name. moving your gaze up to the source of the sound, you found a man almost too good looking to be true.

"oh, uh, yeah. yes, i am. sorry, who are you?"

with each word that escaped your mouth, you felt your face heating up. you didn't mean to be rude but you truly had no idea who you were talking to. how had you never noticed this greek god of a man in your class until now?

"i'm charles leclerc. we're in a group together for the assignment and i thought it would be a good idea to get your number so we can talk set up a time to talk about our ideas."

he held out his unlocked phone to you, inviting you to type in your number. if he was offended by your failure to recognise him it certainly didn't show which helped calm your frazzled nerves.

"oh, of course! sorry, i'm not used to someone else taking responsibility in a group project. usually i'm stuck doing everyone's work on top of my own. here you go." you replied while saving your number into his contacts.

he smiled at your admission and reassured you he wouldn't dare leave you to handle the entire project alone.

"i already have everyone else's numbers so i'll make a groupchat too. when are you free?"

as much as you would like to lie and say you had a life outside of studying, you didn't. but you would gladly say yes to any get together if it meant charles would be there too.

"honestly, i'm always free so any time works for me." you explained while packing your bag and standing up from your seat.

he grinned and walked with you towards the exit and out the building.

"yeah? how about now? there's this café i've heard is really good and i've been meaning to try it, i just haven't had the time recently."

you stopped in your tracks.

was he asking you on a date? this was definitely new. obviously you had been in a few relationships before but they had never quite managed to get you flustered like this on the first meeting.

truth be told, he had gone to that café a million times over as it was the closest one to campus that served the best croissants for cheap but you didn't need to know that.

"are you asking me on a date?" you asked, not hesitating to get straight to the point.

his grin flickered for a split second, almost in surprise at your bluntness, before growing impossibly wider.

"uh, yeah, i'm asking you on a date right now. so? what do you say?"

"hmmm, and what do i get out of it if i say yes?"

you didn't think twice about taking him up on his offer but it was fun to watch him scramble for reasons you should have a coffee with him. you watched him come up with several nonsensical arguments before you decided to put him out of his misery.

"relax, i'll go on a date with you! you should've seen your face!"

he blushed at your antics before joining in your giggles at his own expense. he had a feeling your laughter would become his favourite sound.

"what are you waiting for then? lead the way."

unsurprisingly, you two were the only ones who took part in the group project but you couldn't complain when you had such good company to help you.

"this is charles leclerc, he will be your race engineer starting from next season." your team principal fred vasseur gently pushed you away from your teammate to the new hire fresh out of internship at haas.

after the quick decline of your 2022 season, ferrari had wasted no time in sacking binotto and your less than competent engineer for much more suitably equipped individuals.

"pleasure to meet you, charles. i'm y/n l/n. are you sure you're ready for this?" you outstretch your hand to shake his.

"thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you as well, you are an inspiration to so many. i'm extremely grateful to be given this opportunity to work with such a talented driver like yourself. and yes i'm one hundred percent ready to give my everything so you can bring home some wins and maybe even the championship." he spoke with a conviction almost as if he had been practicing it in the mirror for weeks.

his hand wrapped around yours and you couldn't help but notice how warm they were even in the frigid winter. you grinned at his confidence and faith in not only himself but also the team and you as a driver. it was certainly the energy you needed after the less than impressive season that you had just wrapped up.

"i like him already! so much more positive than my last engineer. where have you been all this time?" you declared patting him on the back while looking at your team principal in approval.

he was so sure you could notice the pink tinge on his cheeks as he nervously smiled at your praise and suddenly found the carpeted floor the most interesting thing in the room to observe.

"i'm glad you two are getting along! now let's get on with this meeting. i would like to get home at a reasonable time today."

as the meeting dragged on, you found yourself staring at charles opposite you out of nothing but pure curiosity and maybe a little bit of humour. it was clear he harboured some feelings towards you that he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. that much was evident in the way he refused to even glance in your direction at the risk of making eye contact.

"we don't quite know how the others will perform yet but we definitely expect to be more on pace with red bull next year. this season wasn't our best but it gives us a good foundation to improve on which is better than nothing. any questions?"

even if there were any questions left unanswered everyone was much too tired to articulate them and so the meeting room fell into silence before you all said your goodbyes to each other wishing everyone a restful winter break.

you were headed out the door when you heard your name being called. you turned to see charles jogging to catch up to you and so you decided to wait for him at the exit.

"you excited for the winter break?" you strike up a conversation with him as you dawdled towards the car park together.

"yes, but i'm more excited for the season to start. i've been preparing for this my whole life. what about you? surely you're tired of being in the car?" he questioned with genuine interest.

"no, not really. i mean i've been preparing for this my whole life too. the travelling is a lot to handle but there's nothing more i enjoy than being in the car. don't get me wrong, i do like being at home too. i just love racing so much i wish i could do it all the time."

"really? you don't ever get tired of racing?" he looked over at you in wonder and you smiled at his disbelief.

"really. ever since i was a kid i've always wanted to be racing constantly. what about you? i mean pretty much all of us drivers got into the sport through karting. what made you want to be a race engineer?"

"well actually i did get into karting too. my father took me and my brothers to a local track and it all started there. i liked karting but i was always more interested in the technical side. my younger brother arthur liked it a lot though and he decided to pursue a career. he's actually stepping up to formula 2 next year."

"yeah? he must be pretty good then." you didn't recognise his brother's name because you were too busy with your own preparation every race weekend to watch the support series but you took his word for it.

"yeah, i'm really glad he's made it this far. we didn't have much money for karting when he was just starting out but we managed to make it work."

you were all too familiar with the struggles of funding and putting together enough sponsors just to make it through the season. there were already very few people getting into motorsport and the high costs didn't help. you had seen too many young talents drop out because they just couldn't afford it anymore. you were one of the lucky ones to secure a place in the ferrari driver academy and have their money to fall back on.

realising you were getting closer and closer to your car, you slowed down in hopes you could keep talking to charles for longer.

"so, why ferrari? it's a team with lots of history but we haven't won a championship since 2008." you asked with no ill intentions.

you really were just interested seeing as the team was currently the laughing stock amongst the grid and the fans - which you didn't blame them for. they had thrown away several chances of a championship with some of the most talented drivers, purely due to their own inability to perform when it was needed most.

"that doesn't matter to me. i've supported ferrari since i was little so it wasn't even a question which team i wanted to join. i remember i used to always follow the red car when they raced at monaco even before i knew it was a ferrari. anyone who has the chance to be a part of ferrari, would take that chance, no? i've barely started here but there's something special about being a part of ferrari." he explained with a look in his eyes that you could only imagine was the same wonder that appeared when watching the red ferrari of kimi räikkönen speed around his home track.

"what about you? you're the one who actually drives for ferrari so what made you sign with them?"

you stopped upon reaching your car neatly tucked inside the white lines.

"ah, i would love to tell you but i do have to get home."

charles' smile fell before he agreed, making his own excuses about his neighbours complaining of his late night ruckus he caused. both of you were disappointed at the fact you couldn't just keep talking for hours but you had another idea up your sleeve.

"but i would be happy to have dinner with you tomorrow to continue this conversation if you're free? if you want to join me that is! you don't have to."

"no, no i want to! that would be great! here's my number. i'll pick you up at 7?"

his initial plans of acting casual around you had been thrown out the window and he was already wishing for time to go faster. you couldn't help but smile at his eagerness - it was a change from your usually soulless dates who treated you like arm candy.

"great! thank you, charles, really. i haven't been this optimistic about an upcoming season in a while but you've already made me excited for the future, even though we just met. i have a feeling we're going to enjoy a lot of victories together." you admitted honestly.

you hadn't been completely happy with any of your seasons with the scuderia so far, always hungry for more despite exceeding the expectations of many.

"thank you, that's the biggest compliment i could receive. i have no doubt we can bring the team many wins."

the 2023 season went on to be one of your best performances in a time where red bull dominance was ever growing. although the championship was not quite in your firm grasp just yet, you had come closer than ever with the help of new management and, more importantly, charles. this was simply the beginning for you two.

"hey charles?" you called out looking up from your phone screen to find him pulling on his race suit.

"yes, mon ange?" he replied turning to face you sitting on the tiny bed.

even though you two had been dating for years, him and his pet names never failed to fluster you.

"do you think we're soulmates in every universe?" you asked after seeing the tik tok trend appear on your phone.

you weren't really expecting a serious answer from charles. you knew it was a silly theory but you decided to entertain the thought. however it seemed that charles had a different idea.

"maybe, maybe not. i'd like to think we are but even if we're not, that doesn't matter. what matters is that we're together in this one, no? besides, even if we weren't destined to be together, i'd still find you and choose you in every universe." he voiced casually, placing a soft kiss on your forehead while looking around the room for his racing boots.

his confessions of undying love to you had become a daily occurrence and it was always certain his words would make your heart melt.

"you've seen the trend, haven't you?" you questioned him. there was no way he had just come up with that answer on the spot.

"what trend? mon amour, you know i am not on social media as much as you are."

"the tik tok trend! are you sure you haven't seen it?"

"yes, i am very sure, mon ange. come on, i don't need to see a tik tok to tell you that i will always choose you."

you didn't fully believe him but you also knew that he was a terrible liar, his facial expressions giving him away no matter what with each attempt made.

"come here. one last good luck kiss for me?" he asked with a pleading look you could never deny and pulled you from the bed by your arms.

"of course, my love. i want you back safe in one piece, ok?" you held his face in your hands and placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, nose, each cheek and finally, his lips.

"anything for you."