#and i don't think that christians are any less likely to do this

[water-you-doing-bro]

Look, I just think that Percy having mortal Christian or Jewish or Muslim or otherwise monotheistic friends is just a well of untapped potential, okay? Like, obviously Percy just draws in the most eclectic group of friends, right? And idk at lunch or smth they're talking about some assignment they got in history class and it comes up that they all have different beliefs/religions and Percy, being Percy, decides to try and bond with them about it by asking if they have a favorite myth/bible/torah/quran/etc story and at first half of them are like uh dude are you making fun of me? and they're just super confused and ofc Percy is all oh shit no sorry dude I just, y'know, I'm pagan and idk I have a favorite greek myth and stuff and I thought maybe you guys had a favorite story from your faith, idk is that not how it works? was it rude of me to ask? oh gods, I'm so sorry guys

And then they're all like oh okay no that makes sense actually, it's just not smth people ask usually, not cause it's taboo or anything, it's just . . . not smth many people think of, I guess.

And then they go around sharing stories from their respective faiths and percy is ofc respectful and listens intently and sometimes he may ask questions and stuff but he never dismisses them or makes fun of them or their beliefs [bc like, if the greeks, romans, egyptians, and norse are out there, who's to say that there aren't more? who's to say that they're not all out there, yknow?], even if he is a little weird about them sometimes but that's all just because he doesn't understand lmao

I just, idk, I think Sally probably raised Percy mostly atheist yknow? and its not like he's entirely unaware of Christianity and Judaism and Islam and all that, he just doesn't have any clue how those religions are practiced/worshipped and stuff. His only real exposure to that kind of thing is what he's seen on tv and then his own experiences with how they 'worship' and interact with the gods at camp.

So he just thinks of deities as being mostly Just Some Guy who happens to have powers and a superiority complex. He thinks of 'higher powers' as, like, idk if personable is the right word, but I mean, he thinks of gods as just people. He doesn't understand the whole reverent worship and devotion and like, detachment from God attitude that like, Christianity has and stuff like that.

So Percy will just say the wildest shit sometimes, like, 'oh yeah, Zeus is a horny bastard and an absolute asshole, but he's the king of the gods so if we don't give him proper respect or tribute or whatever he gets pissy. What about your God? Does He get grumpy if you don't like, go to church on Sunday or smth?' or 'do you think you could get me in contact with Jesus? because Zeus put Dionysus in sobriety time out and he's all cranky about it bc he can't conjure wine ig but like, if your guy did it for him it might get past thunderbutt's restrictions and then grapehead might be less cranky?'

Idk but like I said, I just think this is an untapped well of hilarious potential!

[apilgrimpassingby]

Goyim don't need to start there, because that's not true. This is going to be a long post, so I'm inserting a "keep reading".

What Does The Earliest Christian Literature Say?

The earliest Christian literature is the Epistles of St. Paul; specifically, those about which there is universal consensus that St. Paul wrote them (Romans, 1 Corinthians, 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, Philemon). Statements about Jesus' humanity in these texts include:

Jesus was a descendant of David (Romans 1:3)

Jesus was Jewish (Romans 9:5)

Jesus had a brother called James, who St. Paul had met (Galatians 1:19)

Jesus was born Jewish to a human mother (Galatians 4:4)

Jesus died by crucifixion (Philippians 2:8)

The evidence is that the earliest Christians thought that Jesus was a flesh-and-blood person who had walked the earth in living memory. This alone is a pretty serious problem for the idea that "the Jesus fable was not real or a literal person".

2a. What Evidence Would We Expect for Jesus?

So, what's the typical evidence for a Judaean Messianic claimant operating in the first half of the first century AD?

Athronges, a man who claimed to be king of Israel from 4-2 BC and won several military confrontations with the Romans before his eventual defeat. Known from Josephus (Jewish War 2.60-65 and Jewish Antiquities 17.278-284); no archaeological evidence.

Judas the Galilean, who in 6 AD led a revolt and founded the Zealots (properly called the Sicarii), the militant faction of 1st century Judaism. Known from Jewish historian Josephus (Jewish War 2.433 and Jewish Antiquities 18.1-10 and 18.23) and the New Testament (Acts 5:37); no archaeological evidence.

John the Baptist, a preacher executed in 28 AD for criticising the king. Known from the New Testament (he's all over the Gospels) and Josephus (Jewish Antiquities 18.5.2); no archaeological evidence.

The Samaritan prophet, who in 36 AD promised to re-establish the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim, and caused so much alarm to the Romans that they dispatched both cavalry and infantry to disperse his followers. Known from Josephus (Jewish Antiquities 18.85-87); no archaeological evidence.

Theudas, who in c.45 AD led "a great part of the people" into the desert with promises to part the Jordan, which frightened the procurator Fadus enough to send a cavalry troop to disperse his followers, killing many of them, Theudas included. Known from Josephus (Jewish Antiquities 20.97-98) and the New Testament (Acts 5:36); no archaeological evidence.

The Egyptian prophet, who some time in the 50s AD claimed to be a prophet and led a force of several thousand rebels to the walls of Jerusalem, which he promised to miraculously bring down; his force fought with Roman infantry and cavalry in a battle where fur hundred of them died and two hundred were captured. Known from Josephus (Jewish War 2.259-263 and Jewish Antiquities 20.169-171) and the New Testament (Acts 21:38); no archaeological evidence.

Hence, the crucial question for Jesus historicity is - was Jesus mentioned by Josephus?

2b. Yes, He Was, and By Tacitus To

There's a somewhat-famous passage in Josephus' Jewish Antiquities 18.63-64 where he mentions Jesus. Part of the reason it's famous is that it's pretty blatantly been added to by a Christian scribe, but the current consensus is that it's an authentic Josephan passage with Christian additions. Here it is, with the Christian additions scored out to show what most scholars think Josephus wrote:

And there was about this time Jesus, a wise man, if indeed it is necessary to call him a man, for he was a doer of paradoxical works, a teacher of such men as receive the truth with pleasure, and many Jews on the one hand and also many of the Greeks on the other he drew to himself. He was the Messiah. And when, on the accusation of some of the principal men among us, Pilate had condemned him to a cross, those who had first loved him did not cease to do so. For he appeared to them on the third day, living again, the divine prophets having related both these things and countless other marvels about him. And even till now the tribe of Christians, so named from this man, has not gone extinct.

If you want to read about what's judged to be authentic in the passage by scholars and why, you can click here.

The authenticity of that passage aside, there's a less-famous section of the Antiquities (20.9.1) referencing "the brother of Jesus, who was called Christ, whose name was James", which is universally regarded by critical scholars as authentic. Hence, it can be said that Josephus does refer to Jesus, and so Jesus matches up to the evidence threshold for similar figures.

As mentioned in the title of this section, Roman historian Tacitus also referred to Jesus, in a passage unanimously agreed to not be a Christian addition because, as you'll see, Tacitus had no love for Christianity.

Christus, from whom the name [Christians] had its origin, suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilatus, and a most mischievous superstition, thus checked for the moment, again broke out not only in Judaea, the first source of the evil, but even in Rome, where all things hideous and shameful from every part of the world find their centre and become popular. (Annals 15.44)

Hence, I think it can be said that the evidence for Jesus is at least equivalent to, and almost certainly greater than, that of every comparable figure, and so there's no good reason for denying a historical Jesus.

To be clear, I don't think this proves that a virgin-born miracle-working Son of God existed. While I am a Christian, I do think that many non-Christian views of Jesus are reasonable views held by reasonable people, even if I disagree with them. However, I think that denying that there was a first-century AD Judaean itinerant preacher called Jesus who founded Christianity and was crucified by Pontius Pilate is a denial of history, plain and simple.

I'll finish this off with a quote from Bart Ehrman, Professor of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina and a major populariser of critical scholarship of the New Testament:

"It is fair to say that mythicists as a group, and as individuals, are not taken seriously by the vast majority of scholars in the fields of New Testament, early Christianity, ancient history, and theology." (Did Jesus Exist?, p.20)

can't believe I really just came across someone saying "nono, the JEWS didn't kill jesus, the ZIONISTS killed jesus."

I'm literally laughing. This is histeric. It almost makes it hard to see these antisemites as a serious threat. Almost.

[vamptastic]

ach to be fair i may be Judaism Georg here. i tend to wildly overestimate how much the average christian or even secular jew would know because i am a massive fucking nerd about judaism. but still, i thought 'jews do not believe in jesus' was well known, at least. it's literally the only thing you learn about our theology in public education.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

today days old faun/fauna same etymology (equivalent to pan roman god faunus &/or fauna)

[renthony]

There's a post going around right now about women being allowed to wear pants, and the way that relates to discussions on gender nonconformity, etc.. There's a long thread of folks talking about how women very much do not have absolute freedom to dress masculine, and a few other posts that have spawned off the main discussion.

And I haven't added onto that main post because I didn't feel like I had much to add, but now it's been a couple days and I can't stop thinking about how I was forced to wear a dress to my high school graduation in small-town Mississippi. I'm not a woman, but I didn't know that yet, so it's a relevant story.

The school administration threatened every single girl with the punishment of being banned from walking across the stage if we wore pants beneath our graduation robes. We got an entire lecture about how it was inappropriate for us to wear pants to such an important formal event.

My school had a strict uniform policy, and the graduating seniors being allowed to wear our own clothes to graduation was seen as a huge fucking deal. We'd spent four years not being allowed to wear our own clothes or accessories, and graduation was supposed to be our time to finally wear what we wanted. This was a bigger deal than it might have been otherwise, because my school also refused to allow us to decorate our graduation caps. We were not allowed to display any customization at all. One girl put her name on hers so her family could find her from the crowded stands, and the school administration made her throw her hat away and buy a new one or else she wouldn't be allowed in the event hall.

The school, knowing how excited many of us were about picking our outfits, gave us a strict dress code. Our outfits wouldn't be seen until after we took off the graduation robes to go home, but still, we had a nightmarishly strict guide for what we were allowed to wear beneath them. They had to be formal outfits, they had to fit a certain color scheme, they had to adhere to the school policy about skirt length and skin visibility, and, naturally, they were extra harsh on the girls, as dress code policies always are.

One guy joked that he was going to go naked underneath in solidarity with all the girls who were upset about the dress requirement. He got pulled aside by an administrator and told that if he made that joke again, he wouldn't be given his diploma. Which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but it was still the threat that got made.

Everyone was pissed, several people were livid because they had already bought an outfit they were now not allowed to wear, because the administration had actively misled us for weeks into believing we would be allowed to wear what we wanted. There had been no mention of dress code requirements until they dropped them on us at rehearsal the morning of graduation, less than 12 hours before the event.

We had no power to override the school administration. We were given a strict lecture at rehearsal about how flouting dress codes is unprofessional and if we gave that kind of attitude to people over dress codes in the workplace, we'd be fired.

We were ultimately told that, "if it's not appropriate for church, it's not appropriate for graduation." Those of us who asked "what if we aren't Christian and don't even go to church" were told "you still know what kind of clothes church clothes are, so stop being rude."

This happened in May of 2011.

[whetstonefires]

okay see, i think it's very much projection, in the sense that if you write Cool Character Person as insecure--especially if you take whatever insecurities they really do have and blow them up huge and intense, so there's a lot of canon material to work with--then you can walk them through the deep pangs of the low self-esteem and also through various proofs of worth and experiences of being reassured and validated and valued.

or of gaining confidence and telling off the people who don't value them instead, if that's the place you're at.

because the aim is to thus vicariously go through that emotional arc yourself. (and offer this also to the readers.) which provides access to both catharsis and to practice letting go of negative self-thinking via your proxy.

it's in there with reparenting yourself, basically.

people project insecurity onto fanfiction characters because they want to process their own insecurities. that is what the fic in question is for. it is an artwork and it is a tool. it's doing what it's supposed to.

and i've noticed it's not just easier set-up but works much better for most people as a mental health deal to do this work in a fanfic context, especially with a character who has elements of low self-worth but doesn't wallow in them in the canon (established baseline of Cool Dude who can Handle This), than with an original character designed for the purpose, who will inevitably be defined by their function of having low self-esteem and by their connection to you. and thus be harder to commit to validating, and pull through to the sense of catharsis, and therefore less effective.

there totally is a thing where fanfiction versions of characters lose specificity and become generic, and one of the many things that drives it is that people are more willing to engage with simpler and more comfortable flaws.

but i don't think picking out self-projection of insecurity as a virtue-signalling problem is an especially accurate or useful framing of the phenomenon.

Projection is definitely part of why fanfiction authors write characters as deeply insecure (even and especially when they are not in canon), but I don't think it's the whole story.

I think it's also that insecurity is seen as a "virtuous" character flaw. Saying that your main character is "too humble" is the fiction equivalent of telling a potential employer that your greatest weakness is working too hard. It's safer and easier than approaching those ugly but more interesting character flaws like selfishness, wrath, prejudice. Ugly things that exist in all people, to some extent.

If it is projection, it's an idealized projection to only paint one's cleanest flaws into their story.

[sincerelybubbles]

ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

[magnetothemagnificent]

The world is so hostile to tweens.....

Like we joke about how our schools growing up would ban the latest toy trends, but that reality genuinely horrific when you think about it. Like maybe 1% of the bans were based on safety, but the rest cited reasoning like

-"kids were bartering for collectibles" (kids learning about economics and product value)

-"kids were wearing them and the colors were too flashy" (kids experimenting with self expression and fashion)

-"kids were playing with them during lunch and recess instead of using our rusted safety hazard playground" (kids utilizing their free time to do what helps *them* unwind).

Play areas specifically geared towards children and especially towards teens are constantly being shut down. "Oh kids today are always on their phones!" Maybe because

-there are barely any arcades left and even less arcades that aren't adult-oriented,

-public pools and gyms are underfunded and shut down,

-"no loitering" laws prevent kids and teens from just hanging out,

-movie theatres only play the latest films and ticket prices are only rising,

-parks and playgrounds are either neglected or replaced with gear only directed at toddlers and unsuitable for anyone older

-genuine children's and young teen media is being phased out in favour of media directed only at very small children or older teens and adults.

-suburbs and even cities are becoming more and more hostile to pedestrians, it's just not safe for kids to walk to or ride their bikes to their friends' houses or other play destinations

Children's agency is hardly ever respected. Kids between the ages of 9-13 are either treated as babies or as full-grown adults, with no in-between. When they ask to be given more independence, they are either scoffed at or given more responsibilities than are reasonable for a child their age.

This is even evident in the fashion scene.

Clothing stores and brands like Justice and Gap are either closing or rebranding to either exclusively adult clothing or young children's clothes, with no middle ground for tweens. Tweens have to choose between clothes designed for adults that are too large and/or too mature for their age and bodies, or more clothes they feel are far too childish. For tween girls especially it's either a frilly pinafore dress with pigtails or a woman's size dress with cleavage. No wonder tween girls these days dress like they're older, it's because their other option is little girl clothes and they don't want to feel childish.

And then when tweens go to school, the books they want to read aren't available because they cover "mature" topics (read: oh no two people kissed and they weren't straight or oh no menstruation was mentioned or oh no a religion other than Christianity is depicted), so kids are left with books for way below their reading level. No wonder kids today are struggling with literacy, it's because they can't exercise and expand their reading skills with age-appropriate books. Readers need to be challenged with new words and concepts in order to grow in their skills, only letting tween read Dr. Seuss and nursery rhymes doesn't let them learn.

Discussions about substance use, reproduction, and sexuality aren't taught at an age-appropriate level in school or even by children's parents, so they either grow up ignorant and more vulnerable to abuse, or they seek out information elsewhere that is delivered in a less-than-age-appropriate manner. It shouldn't be a coin-toss between "I didn't know what sex was until I was 18 and in college" or "my first exposure to sex as a tween was through porn" or "I didn't know what sex was so I didn't know I was being sexually abused as a kid."

Tweenhood is already such a volatile and confusing time for kids, their bodies are changing and they're transitioning from elementary to middle to high school. It's hard enough for them in this stage, but it's made worse by how society devalues and fails them.

We talk about the disappearance of teenagehood, and maybe that's gonna happen in the future, but the erasure of tweenhood is happing in real time, and it's having and going to have major consequences for next generation's adults.

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

In general, I think it's currently really important for progressive Christians to be very loud about being both progressive and deeply religious Christians, and for everyone else fighting for progressive values to be supportive of them doing just that. I know that's like, idk, counter-intuitive or cringe or whatever, but seriously folks, the alternative is that progressive Christians have to be quiet about their faith to be accepted within broader secular and interfaith progressive advocacy, which means that the regressive asshole Christians (a) sound that much louder and (b) dominate the USian religious landscape all the more. That's a problem, for all of us.

We need people pushing back within the faith as well as outside of it, because that destroys any edifice that this is about Christianity and religious freedom.

You can be a devout Christian and also:

Openly, proudly, and without being forced to remain celibate or otherwise limit your full expression of self, identify as LGBTQ+ or be a supportive ally.

Advocate for full reproductive autonomy and comprehensive sex education.

Love and support people of other religious groups, non-religious people and/or atheists, by choosing to believe that a truly loving God would not pursue anything less than universal salvation.

Stand against evangelism and proselytizing as they have thus far been interpreted and used, because there are ways to interpret the Great Commission that don't promote colonialism and cultural genocide.

A steward of the earth, protecting God's beautiful creation and lovingly tending to it as the unique and incredible gift that it is.

A believer in science, rationalism, and human progress as part of God's divine plan for humanity.

A believer in history and someone who understands that the Bible can be both divinely given and open to interpretation (no really)(if you're confused, please talk to a knowledgeable traditional Jew)

An ally to Jews, who stands against supercessionism and antisemitism in the church.

And in before regressive Christians come shouting at me that (1) what do I know, I'm a Jew and (2) no lol you can't because of ___ reason:

My source is that I've personally met and talked to Christians of great faith and integrity - people who embody the closest forms of kindness I've seen to what Jesus himself advocated - who are each of these things.

It is 100% possible; you just choose to believe otherwise.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[chanaleah]

It's interesting to me that growing up Jewish seems to have given me a fundamentally different understanding of religion from my Christian friends. For me, I think that your religion (or ethnicity, since Judaism is an ethnicity) is not something you can get rid of. You can convert to another religion, but I never understood friends of mine who said that they weren't Christian, but Atheist.

"But you celebrate Christmas, right?" I asked them.

"Well, yeah," they said, "but we don't celebrate Christian Christmas. I'm atheist."

That didn't make any sense to me. Sure, maybe the version of Christmas they celebrated in their house looked more like treats and presents and less like nativity scenes and prayers, but it was still the same holiday.

So, I came up with the concept of the difference between "Not Christian" and "non-Christian". Which of course my "not christian" friends didn't understand. But my idea was that there are people who are "not christian" - mainly culturally christian atheists - and people who are "non-christian", like Jews, Hindus, Muslims, or others.

Because while both groups generally don't identify as Christian, we have different experiences. As a Jew, my experience as a religious minority is not the same as that of a culturally Christian atheist. They're not Christian, and I'm not Christian, but in different ways.

note (11/27/23)— I don’t entirely stand by the contents of this post anymore, specifically the part where I said that religion isn’t something you can get rid of. I have changed my mind and as of now do believe that atheism fully separate from Christianity is something that can be achieved, and while I’m not apologizing to many of those in my notes who despite their avowed atheism have continued to uphold Christian hegemony— I do apologize to atheists who have taken steps to distance themselves from Christianity and be careful not to uphold Christian hegemony.

[vaspider]

Spider, do you have any advice on voting when the options are basically the same? I'm not talking Trump vs. Harris, they are definitely not the same. But my local elections are all "absolutely ghoulish republican who's running on Christian Fundamentalism and opposing the Radical Left, is an anti-enviromentalist, and brags about in their previous term in public office where they legally punished a bunch of homeless people for being homeless" vs "[the exact same fucking thing]". Yes, one of the races, they're both running on how they empowered police to break up homeless camps and arrest them for illegally camping. And it's like the whole local ballot that's like this. Granted, this isn't my first election, and the area where I live has always been very Like That, but it's getting worse year after year.

(People are always like "it must be nice living in California since everyone is so accepting over there" but no, that's mostly on the coast. When you get inland enough, it's not that different from what people think of when they talk about rural Texas (lots of people here are descended from the Okies and the Arkies and the like that came during the Dust Bowl, including my own family)).

[Running for office is not an option for me, I'm not even a functional human being at it is.]

Well.

I think that either you pick things apart until you find one thing that is slightly less shitty about one of the candidates, or you skip that specific race. Those are really your only two options, you know? You can't create another candidate at this stage, and you don't want to skip voting entirely, so... it's okay to skip one race if you really fucking hate both candidates.

I mean, what else are you gonna do?

[snickerdoodlles]

one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

[norrisjpg]

no surprises - ʟɴ⁴

based on this request from @jxnellat - thankyou lovely!!

in which, lando's bias opinion regarding the open red bull seat proves to stop a new friendship blossoming - until he proves himself wrong.

contains: unconscious bias, smallest bit of angst, shit-talking, carlos not to red bull (NOO), justice for logan because i give him an extra year in f2, mentions of christian horner (AH), social media, fluff, lando admitting he's wrong, mentions of struggles with mental health, williams not being shit.

platonic lando norris x named female character (senna hamilton)

...

...

carlos sainz jr's first choice was always going to be red bull. why wouldn't it be? the team was dominating the formula 1 world, and he was sure they wouldn't fuck him over like ferrari had many, many times.

but, tough luck for him.

before he could even think about getting into talks with christian and helmut - the world was rocked with the news of formula one's first female driver, moving to her dad's previous rival team.

senna hamilton might as well have broken the media. she was currently racing for williams alongside alex albon, but had no word from her superiors as to whether they were going to extend her contract with williams or whether there was any interest from mercedes.

so, she looked elsewhere.

and honestly, it came as a shock when her manager explained that christian horner wanted to arrange a meeting to discuss her seat for 2025 - due to sergio perez's less-than-admirable performance in the first half of the 2024 season.

either way, it was safe to say, that the hamilton family had given the world yet another reason to look forward to the 2025 season, and also given them all aneurysms in the process.

lando norris wasn't one for commenting on other driver's situations, but when it came to carlos sainz jr, he didn't hesistate as much as he usually would.

"so, lando, as we know you're good friends with carlos, and well, there's now one less team for him to go to - with senna going to red bull next year - can we just get your thoughts on that?" the blonde woman asked him, steadily holding the microphone out in front of him.

"well, obviously i think carlos deserves the best available seat possible, and that would have most likely been the red bull seat - so i think he should be in the red bull - but, i do think it will be interesting to see what senna can do in the red bull alongside max, but i'm just hoping that carlos can also get a good seat for next year." lando nodded, slightly stumbling over his words as his PR manager side-eyed him.

"okay, so you think that carlos deserves to be in the red bull?"

"yeah, i do - not that senna doesn't deserve the red bull seat, i'm sure she does, but i'm just going off how well i know each of them. obviously carlos and i have known each other since 2019, i've only known senna since 2022 and well, we don't really talk much." lando shrugged, pursing his lips.

"okay, thankyou lando." the woman nodded, before he and his PR manager headed back toward the mclaren hospitality.

his PR manager looked at the interviewer as the two walked away, she had a bad feeling about this.

meanwhile, the joyful tune of 'taste' by sabrina carpenter blasted out of senna's driver room in the mercedes garage, as the british girl bounced around her room, dancing to the song - when her PR manager, cameron, walked in.

"i've got some interesting news, sen."

...

well, as hard as lando tried not to give them that headline they so badly wanted - he somehow still did.

'senna doesn't deserve the red bull seat claims star formula 1 driver, lando norris.'

now, senna wasn't usually a confrontational person, but this was bang out of order, and she definitely didn't expect it from someone she didn't know that well. therefore, she requested a meeting with lando and his PR manager.

"so, would you like to explain this headline please?" senna asked as she slid a piece of paper over to him, the headline printed along with the article - she felt like she was interrogating someone in a james bond movie.

"what about it?" lando said gruffly, not entirely sure how to react to this situation.

"this is the equivalent of me saying you didn't deserve your win in miami, and then everyone agreeing with me, lando." she pursed her lips, earning a side-eye from her own manager.

"i don't really know what you want me to say?" the mclaren driver furrowed his eyebrows. "i never explicitly said that."

"i know, i watched the interview, but you might as well have." a soft scoff left her lips. "i don't actually care if you think i deserve the seat or not, i would just like you to undo this. i face enough prejudice and discrimination as it is, but i certainly didn't expect it from a fellow competitor, i'm disappointed quite frankly, lando."

her words hit like a tonne of fucking bricks - how could he be so fucking blind? lando thought that she'd asked for this meeting to have a go at him and tell him how wrong he was, but once again, he was wrong.

suddenly, he felt almost... sympathetic for her? yes, he also experienced a lot of hate online and he knew how much it affected his mental health - but if one of his competitors had said something like he had? he'd be a fucking wreck on the inside.

"oh, um, okay, yeah." he said, a little quieter as the realisations hit him. "yeah, i'm sorry, senna."

"i don't want an apology, lando." she shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "i just want this to go away."

...

INSTAGRAM

liked by georgerussell, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen33, and 421,294 others. sennahamilton ... strong weekend in belgium, another good haul of points with alex in P8 and myself in P7. time for a much needed break after a great first half of the season, see you all in zandvoort!!

view comments ...

alex_albon ... williams are washed who???

user1 ... double points!!!

user2 ... she better not get P7 in a red bull next year

↳ landonorris ... i'd like to see you try and finish a race?

↳ liked by sennahamilton

mercedesamgf1 ... things we love to see - roscoeee!!

user3 ... red bull are seriously desperate after the first half of the season, aren't they?

↳ sennahamilton ... why wouldn't you be desperate for me?

↳ liked by landonorris

landonorris has started following you!

sennahamilton has started following you!

...

"good morning miss hamilton." a recently familiar voice chimed in her ears, and then the unmistakable bright papaya hoodie appeared in her peripheral vision.

"good morning lando." she smiled, sounding a little tired of his recent apology antics.

"i have an urgent question for you." he said, falling into step with her as they walked past the haas hospitality.

"go on." she nodded, walking straight past the williams garage.

"would you be so kind as to accompany me back to monaco this evening after the race?"

"what?" she furrowed her eyebrows, stopping in her tracks.

"you live in monaco, correct?" lando stood in front of her, maybe a foot or so away from her.

"yes." senna nodded, wetting her lips briefly with her tongue.

"and i also live in monaco, i've got a few extra spaces on my jet, and was wondering if you'd like to join me." he explained. "it'd be me, you, max, daniel, charles, and carlos."

"ah, okay, i see." she nodded. "what's brought this on?"

"well, since we're friends now, i thought- well i don't really know i just wanted to know if you wanted to come with us or not."

"uhm... yeah, okay." senna knew she was a little unsure at this sudden gesture, but she went along with it regardless. "i'll let my dad know, but yeah, thanks."

"cool!" lando smiled, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as possible - he failed miserably. "uh, we're meeting at the airport at eight in the evening, and there'll be food on the plane."

"right, okay." she responded as they began to walk again. "not to sound fussy or anything, but the food... there won't be any fish, will there?"

"ew, of course not, i hate fish." he almost grimaced at the thought, but then his brain immediately clocked onto the fact that she sounded as equally as disgusted as him at the idea. "i'm assuming you don't like fish either?"

"i'd rather skin myself alive than eat fish, lando."

why hadn't he ever bothered to talk to her before?

...

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, maxverstappen33, and 513,482 others.

sennahamilton ... the whole point of this post is so i can show everyone how weirdly adorable lando and daniel are together - that's all.

view comments ...

landonorris ... i fly you home and you call me weird? last time bitch

↳ sennahamilton ... woah i also called you adorable so shut up

↳ user1 ... lando and senna are friends??

maxverstappen33 ... how come you always say no to me when i ask you to fly with me??

↳ sennahamilton ... i don't want to be friends with you :)

↳ landonorris ... this means you want to be friends with me??

danielricciardo ... i have no recollection of taking those photos

user4 ... i feel as if we might see a group-grid holiday this summer

liked by sennahamilton and carlossainz55

...

"miss hamilton!" lando exclaimed loudly as he skipped up to her in the quiet airport - making her cheeks grow pink in embarrassment.

"lando, shut up." senna groaned, internally praying people around her hadn't noticed that it was, in fact, her and lando.

"sorry, where is your positive attitude?" he teased, a sharp edge of sarcasm to his voice.

"in the plane." she mumbled, dragging her pink suitcase behind her as they walked toward their gate together.

"come on, sen, we're going to disneyland!" the brit cheered, making an amused smile creep onto senna's lips, mostly the mclaren driver's child-like excitement. "actually, i have something to admit to you."

"oh god, go ahead."

"i never thought you didn't deserve the red bull seat, sen." he shrugged, his tone changing but a smile still on his face. "and if anything, i knew you deserved it - maybe more than carlos."

she laughed with a small wink, "i won't tell him you said that."

,,,

ah i actually really enjoyed writing this!! the social media parts especially, so maybe i'll start doing more social media fics??

[elumish]

On Radicalization

I'm seeing a lot of people now talking about radicalization (for obvious reasons) and I want to put my two cents into it.

I'm not a radicalization expert by any means, but I have my MA in terrorism studies, and I'm currently pursuing a PhD in security studies, so radicalization is a thing that I have talked/thought about a fair amount.

I think one of the most important things to understand when you think about radicalization is that "radical" and "extremist" are both relative. Generally, when we're talking about radicalization, we're talking about a sharp political shift to a position outside of what we would consider the norm. What's radical in a liberal city in the United States in 2024 is vastly different from both what would have been radical in that city 150 years earlier and what is radical in some other countries right now.

For much of the last 2+ decades (or at least ~2001-2019), most of what was talked about with radicalization was in the context of islamist terrorism/violent extremism. People around the world were trying to figure out why people (especially in Western countries) were joining al Qaeda or ISIS or why people in Afghanistan were joining the Taliban, etc. What was it that drove one person to do that and another person not to--and, what was it that drove one person with those ideological beliefs to commit violence and one person not to.

Right now, in the US, what a lot of people are talking about is why people (namely young white men) are shifting dramatically to the right, particularly socially, and ending up in the political far right. In particular, why are they now advocating for (or at least voting for people who advocate for) taking away rights that are ~50 years old, as well as being more openly white/Christian supremacist than was socially acceptable 25 years ago, and why are some of them committing far right violence?

I think some of the reality that we have to face is that people have been advocating against abortion (and to a lesser degree birth control) access for those entire 50 years, and people have been white/Christian supremacists this entire time, and we just had a brief period of time when it was a little less okay to say out loud. But anyone old enough to remember the Obama campaigns remembers that the opposition to them was virulently racist and Christian supremacist.

But radicalization is happening, so let's talk about some of the ways that it happens in general. None of these are universally true, and what might radicalize one person might not radicalize another.

Social isolation. Social isolation is an extremely common factor in radicalization. Communities generally do two things: they act as a moderating force, and they give people ties that discourage violence. When studying islamist radicalization, from what I remember, conversion was a factor in likelihood of radicalization--not because there is something inherently radicalizing in the act of converting to a religion, but because converts often found resources online or with communities that specifically targeted new people, ones that were less ideologically moderate.

People who convert are also I think in some cases the people who are more likely to be ideologically driven anyway, because it is more work to convert and so you would only do so if you have a stronger ideological belief in it. You see this with some Catholic converts (e.g., Vance)--they are often more conservative and don't necessarily reflect mainstream Catholic teachings because they didn't grow up in a Catholic community as much as intentionally looking for the things that would make them The Most CatholicTM (ironically and hilariously one of those seems to be disagreeing with the Pope, which is approximately the least Catholic thing you can do).

if you have a community, you're generally also less likely to try to hurt people in that community because they're people you care about. Not a universal truth, obviously, but in aggregate. Being in a community also means that there are people who can tell you that what you're saying is extreme and walk you back from it. If you're isolated, nobody will tell you that.

But overall being isolated makes you more likely to feel like nobody likes or cares about you, which can make you angry and disaffected and looking for someone to blame, and it also makes you far more vulnerable to people who are looking to recruit. If you think everyone hates you and then someone tells you that everyone does hate you except for them, you're probably going to listen to them.

Relative depravation. Relative depravation is the idea that the radicalizing factor isn't having nothing, it's having something and seeing people who have more so you feel like you have nothing. I remember this came up when people were studying who in Afghanistan joined the Taliban, and it was often people who were more middle class rather than people living in poverty. The people living in poverty didn't have time to be radicalized because they needed to put food on the table, but the middle class people could see how good other people had it and how bad they had it and it made them mad. (I am vastly oversimplifying a study I remember from 10 years ago--it's a lot more complicated than this.)

But in the US, we're seeing this with men (who have, on an objective basis, lost political power in the US), and with white people (who have, on that same objective basis, lost political power in the US), and with people from geographic regions that used to have much stronger economies and better opportunities but don't anymore (e.g., coal areas, manufacturing areas). They can look at other people (e.g., women, POC) and say "I lost power and you gained power because I lost power, that's not fair and it's hurting me" or "it used to be better but now it's bad, that's not fair and it's hurting me" and then they get mad about it. And some subset of people who get mad about it decide to hurt people over it, or at the very least they vote to try to get it to not be like that anymore. They want to go back, because to them, back was better.

Radicalized education. One of the reasons why white women are so valuable to the white supremacist movement is not just that they can have white children, but that they can teach those white children. Some of this starts at home, or in the schools, or in the churches. And it's not necessarily radicalization if it starts that way (because people aren't moving politically so much as just being), but there are tens of thousands if not millions of children right now who are learning misogynist, queerphobic, and white supremacist ideas in all forms of their education. Those children who learn the benevolent slaveholder narrative or the states rights idea or that Jews killed Jesus or whatever grow up to be adults, and some of them vote, and some of them vote Republican because the ideas Republicans are spouting are the ideas that they were taught.

Suffering under real or perceived oppression. One of the goals of terrorism, in some cases, is to spark an overblown government reaction, which will then radicalize the populace into rising up against them. This is because, sometimes, for some people, that works--some people suffering under oppression or what they perceive is oppression will become increasingly anti-government (or anti-whoever is oppressing them) and that will sometimes turn violent.

The thing to remember here is that oppression is also in the eye of the beholder, to some degree. By the standards of some right-wing Evangelicals, for example, they are oppressed by the secular federal government, which keeps them from practicing their religion in the way that they see fit.

Justice by any means. This isn't exactly a way that people are radicalized, but one thing I see in people I would consider radicalized on basically all ideological fronts is this idea that justice (or winning) should come by any means. You see this in people who burn abortion clinics or kill abortion providers to "save babies" and people who kill cops as a solution to police brutality and people who stone gay people to death. The idea that your ends justify your means is, to me, a core to true radicalism.

The reality is this: if there was one way to stop radicalization, countries would have done it decades ago. Sometimes it's about drawing people into a community, and sometimes it's about getting them out of the community that is radicalizing them. Sometimes it's about being kind or compassionate to a single human being, and sometimes it's about showing them that they are operating against their own self-interest.

And sometimes it's just about damage control and about keeping someone who is already radicalized and looking to do violence from doing violence.

[dubina-dawkins]

FORD MUSTANG '66 BACK SEAT

~2k words (i got carried away :p)

pairing: teen! dean winchester x teen!virgin! reader

> your uncle got you a perfect 18th birthday gift - white ford mustang '66, and dean is in awe. not only because of the car, but because of the birthday girl too

warnings/notes: smut, minors dni! f! masturbation mentioned, loss of virginity, fingering, p in v, unprotected (done by professionals don't try at home), softdom! dean, afab! reader, really fluffy and gentle, lots of kisses i mean how do they still breath, may be kind of continuation (but not a direct one but after some time yk) of my previous work with teen! dean and teen! reader, reader is hunter btw but this is mentioned less, no usage of y/n

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

"Are you kidding...he gave you that baby girl? Damn it, your uncle has taste!" Dean laughs, approaching the vintage car from the bumper, palms wide on the cold metal. He stares out the windshield, then walks around the car in a circle before turning back to you, one arm around your shoulders.

Your birthday was literally, like, a week ago? But since your uncle was busy, he didn't get you a present until yesterday. And today Dean was here on your call. Secretly from dad, of course. Sam's at school somewhere, so there's no need to keep an eye on the kid, so, uh...

"Uh-huh. A useful gift for hunters, huh? Especially since uncle let me hunt alone or with you now... Cool stuff. And even though I'm a bit of a machine builder 'cause I'm always helping him, I think I'm gonna need some help, you know..." You start, turning so that your fingers slip into his messy hair, and Dean laughs.

"If you want me to drive this hottie until you get your driver's license-"

"Bingo!"

Dean laughs, his hands finding a place on your ribs as he pulls you into a tender kiss. The touch of his lips on yours was always too gentle, and it was infuriating sometimes. Knowing Dean, he could have done so much more. Just cared, I guess?

You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. Knowing Dean freakin' Winchester, it was easy to see that he loved you very much. Well, loved you as much as he could. Sometimes it was a fight, but not a big one - hell, you're only 18, what the hell is there to fight about?

Especially since you now had official permission for alone time - soon you'd be hunting together, which meant lots of adventure, blood, sweat, and lives saved. Sometimes that last point was purely functional, and yet. Just you and him.

You couldn't call yourself an innocent Christian girl. You hated the church, God and angels with all your soul after all you had seen and gone through. They're in, they're out, it doesn't make much difference. So sinning didn't seem like a bad idea. Especially when you're just getting back from a walk with Dean in the night, when he's running away from home in his father's car - let's just say he wasn't promised his own car until he was 21 - and the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, ribs, waist and hips still hangs in space...

Then your fingers traveled south, stroking first the lower abdomen, then the labia, then the wet passage, and finally up to the clit.... you could've sworn your panties hadn't been dry after any encounter with your boyfriend. Dean's wink or a glance at your neck, your waist, and you'd be drowning. God, why's he so pretty all the time?

"Okay, now..." Dean pulls back and walks around the car to open the door and land in the driver's seat. His eyes glisten, and you can tell he's enjoying this immensely. Somewhere along the lines of his favorite movies and listening to Led Zeppelin.

His strong palms grip the steering wheel, and he leans back to keep it at arm's length. And Dean laughs again, stroking the leather of the steering wheel with his thumbs. "Pretty one, that's for sure..."

You land in the backseat, and he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. Without even hearing his question, you smile and fold your hands in your lap.

"I can't get used to the fact that it's all, like, mine. And I'm kind of scared to sit in the front. I guess it'll pass with time." You don't have time to finish the sentence when he gets out of the car, and a few moments later he's standing in front of the open backseat door.

"Then I should join you," he laughs, jumping to you, putting his hand on your lower back. You shriek and laugh, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is long, sensual, and at some point Dean's hands move down to your thighs, spreading them wide, and he pushes you back against the seats, towering over you. When he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him wide-eyed, doubt flickering across his face instead of a smirk.

"Uh...I hope you've-...you've already had someone, right...?" he gently takes you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, and you only blush.

"Well...no?"

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and frowns, stroking your thighs with his thumbs, the same tenderness he used to stroke the steering wheel of your Mustang. Yeah, well, considering you were a hunter too, you didn't have much of a chance for a relationship...

"Ah, so...I get to be first? Woah..." he'd be lying if he said it didn't excite him even more, but it scared him too. However, he smiles and bends towards you, not allowing you to give an answer, his lips pressed against yours again. He places one hand on your chin, gently, two fingers opening your mouth for his tongue as his other hand creeps down to your stomach, stroking it.

"God, you're so- aah, fuck..." Dean sinks down between your legs, unzipping the fly of your jeans and pulling them down your legs. When his teeth snag the elastic of your panties, you whimper, putting your hand on his head, and he laughs. "Shh, not yet."

He looks at your glistening, wet folds, and God, it means everything. Dean licks his fingers - though it wasn't necessary at all, you were fucking soaked - and gently presses his thumb against your clit. When that elicits a soft moan of his name from you, he chuckles.

"Are you okay, baby?" He whispers, kissing your stomach, and gently pulls up your t-shirt. He kisses your collarbones while his free hand works on the clasp of your bra.

But God, you're too good to respond with anything but a whimper. You take off your shirt, and he pulls off your bra, and for a moment he just stops, staring at you. A low growl escapes Dean's lips. "You're so beautiful for me, baby..."

He brings his hand back to your pussy, gently stroking the space next to your passage, and your already tight walls tighten around nothing. He whimpers at the mere sight, pressing his lips to your nipples. Every sensation is new, every touch sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body. You put your arms around his neck, one hand creeping up to his disheveled hair, the other reaching down to his back.

Dean throws off his leather jacket and flannel, leaving only a T-shirt, and the cold material of his amulet burns your skin as he leans in again to leave kisses on your skin. "It might hurt now. Tell me if you need me to stop..." But you both know that neither you nor he wants to stop it.

Dean rises to capture your lips again in a kiss, and his middle finger slides into your channel, and you let out a loud sob at the sensation. His fingers are different, feel completely unfamiliar. And it's too exciting, especially when he gently pushes his finger deeper, and your core squelches so lewdly that you blush.

"De...feels so good," you whimper, hugging his shoulders, your hands in fists clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. "I'm trying, love," he laughs against your lips, his finger stroking your walls in a circular motion, and you grind against his hand - at which point Dean presses his hand to your stomach and begins to move his own finger inside, discreetly adding his ring finger as well.

You arch your back, and he kisses your cheek. "So good, you're so good, baby. So good at taking me like a good girl," your walls clench around his fingers at his praise, and Dean groans at the sensation - the bump on his jeans getting noticeably harder as he muffles both his and your moans with a kiss.

You feel bratty, pulling your hands to his belt, and Dean growls against your lips. "Can you handle this? I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart," he pulls his own jeans down, tossing them off his legs somewhere on the back of the driver's seat, followed by his T-shirt. Your fingers stroll phantomly over his waist and hip bones as he slides his fingers out of you with a squelch of your walls, and you whimper unhappily.

"Please, Dean-"

"Shh, shh, shh..." He strokes your cheek, bending down to kiss your swollen lips again, and his free hand guides your palms to the waistband of his boxers, and you obediently pull that down, letting him away from the kiss. Your eyes widen as you stare at his erection, and Dean chuckles shyly.

"Whoa..." you lick your lips, and purely out of interest, you touch your fingers to the tip. His shaft throbbed, and Dean let out a high-pitched whimper as his precum began to glisten under your finger.

"Baby, let's not make any more comments," he picks up your hand, intertwining your fingers, and gently positions himself between your thighs. Dean can't resist the opportunity to rub me against your swollen clit, and you synchronously make almost identical sounds - something between a high-pitched moan and a sob.

"...Are you sure?"

"Dean, shut up and get to work."

He laughs, leaning down to your face again. "That's my girl."

And he pushes into you in one, slow thrust, inch by inch, swallowing your moans of pain and pleasure in another kiss. God, a little more, and your lips would have turned blue.

He pulls away from your lips, arching his back, and catches your hands in his, intertwining your fingers again. Dean hisses, squeezing your hands. "So fucking tight...just for me, huh...?"

He doesn't just fill you up - his hardness overwhelms you, and you feel complete for the first time in your life. Your fingers grip his hands as if your whole life depends on it. "F-fuck, it's so huge-"

"Believe it or not, you're the first person to tell me that," he leans to you again, kissing your cheek as his hips move and he begins his slow pace. His thrusts may be measured but they're precise, each time his tip taps harder on that most sensitive point inside you, and it seems there are more stars in front of your eyes than there are in the night sky.

"You're doing well, baby...So tight, so wet, so pliable, just, just for me..." He whispers into your ear as his thrusts become less controlled, more needy. Your walls quiver and his length throb more and more inside-you're both close, and that knowledge drives you insane.

"D- yaaah, Dean, I'm close-" He doesn't answer anything, just presses his lips against you again and roughly penetrates your mouth with his tongue, his palms gripping your waist hard enough to bruise it, but one hand does drop down between your bodies to caress your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And this is it, you cry out his name, your walls tighten around his cock, and he hisses, with a loud pop of your bodies releasing his length from your heat.

But you don't let him out that easily.

"My turn," you grin weakly, your hand taking his erection in your fist, giving it a few quick strokes, and he fucks your fist like he's in heat, nuzzling his face against your neck, making a moan so pathetic it's even cute.

"I love you so much...Baby, baby, sweetheart, fuck-" He whispers frantically, and with one final thrust, shots of his seed crash into your palm, your side, and the leather of the seats. Dean wraps his arms around your shoulders tightly, pulling you close, his face finding its place in your hair as he exhales hoarsely. "So fucking much..." he says, breathing heavily, his voice muffled by your locks.

There were tissues in the glove compartment, right?

a/n: still love my baby. still a tooth rotting fluff. your honor I'm sorry!! was working on reqs but i just thought of this idea and couldn't get it out of my head so that's it.......