#and like. what do I do with this form of privilege??*

[seewetter]

My first thought at hearing horror described as "a predatory force seeking out the exposed and vulnerable elements of society" made me think of a movie about a monster tormenting people who refuse to be vulnerable and at the end the "final girl" has vulnerability but must spend a highly uncomfortable eternity with the monster.

But then I realized that while that would make a good horror movie, it would just be the flip side of the coin of horror movie avoidance. The audience then simply gets "action movie"-like gratification where the victims have to open up and be vulnerable and laughs in schadenfreude when they fail at this task. It could be good horror, but it wouldn't challenge its target audience, who don't relate to the victims in the film. The audience would side with the monster, and watching the predation with a certain level of emotional detachment. "Ahaha, that frat bro couldn't show vulnerability, go get him". This could be a fun movie, but it's not a template for the appeal of horror. And people who don't want to be vulnerable in that particular way can become more entrenched in their mindset, because the film isn't just victimizing (people like) them, it mocks its victims, it addresses the audience as people superior to those victims.

If, say, a slasher movie features a bunch of frat bros who never open up to each other, this doesn't reflect real vulnerabilities of frat bros, who IRL do tell each other pretty harrowing stories and show emotional vulnerability in the right social setting -- the reason shitty men bully emotional or "weak" men in group settings is cishet patriarchal pecking order / violence. These guys do all these weak and emotional things all the time, just under the "right" pretense. So a horror film where frat bros are killed for being repressed kind of misses its mark as social criticism.

But even if the film killed frat bros or karens or other groups of privileged people who either repress something or hide a violent underbelly of their group, a challenging horror film walks a fine line.

Any horror film that simply *gives them what they deserve*, say a slasher film where frat bros die one-by-one as the monster seeks out guys who aren't, as prev put it "reduced to tears", is wish-fulfillment for an audience critical of frat bro culture. Like I'd get a kick out of it, I think such stories should be told and I'll watch at least a few of them, but I know deep down that I'm watching something that doesn't actually affect me. Don't misunderstand me: I don't think entertainment needs to be pure. I don't think it needs to teach valuable lessons. But since people above are discussing the kind of infantile mindset where someone basically doesn't like about horror the very thing that makes it horror (the helplessness) I can't but mention that to really get audiences to experience helplessness, you need *them* to actually feel helpless. So watching some Karen who totally deserves to get chopped to bits feel helpless ...only works if *you're* a Karen like that yourself -- and even then might not work if you rightfully(?) suspect this entertainment was made by other people to make fun of you or feel superior to you.

Schadenfreude (enjoying the damage others face) is absolutely a viable ingredient for entertainment: but absurdly, it's an ingredient for a feelgood movie. A morality play that preaches to the choir.

This is one reason why trans women and people with physical disfigurements have been so attentive to transmisogyny and ableism in horror. Because in both cases, the mainstream has been making feelgood movies where the monster is Other and people can feel superior to that form of otherness. They can pat themselves on the back for thinking that disfigurement makes someone monstrous or uncomfortable or undesireable or disgusting. A disfigured monster's body would not be half as ableist if it wasn't part of a sort of morality tale feelgood movie, where bad people get what they deserve and good people go rewarded. Giving the disfigured monster more sympathy effectively doesn't just muddle the ableism, but also muddles the predation and violence of the monster. Which won't really make sense to the audiences who wanted a morality play to feel better about themselves but also--- morality plays are a part of horror, but they are kind of like decaf coffee. It's horror without the helplessness of horror.

Even a film with an amoral ending, like Cabin in the Woods, is basically just defanged horror, it's an action comedy with horror tropes and weird sci-fi and fantasy elements. The amoral ending (just letting the world get destroyed) is cool and entertaining, but this is definitely a feelgood film.

If someone wants to make a film about unavoidable pain and suffering, then they can't shy away from actually inflicting that fictional pain and suffering on their fictional characters. And if that movie is meant to avoid the thing where wealthy suburbanites are victims of the murder doll or demon home invasion or whatever, if you want to show the vulnerability of homeless people for example...well then you can't shy away from portraying the futility of their attempts to get help.

Feelgood films (both the Action Horror movie and the Schadenfreude Morality Play) have their place in the world of storytelling and can say interesting things. But the impulse to always want "soft" horror is maybe partly due to how effective it can be, as a genre, to actually make people live through helplessness and unavoidable pain. I don't think the last type is more legitimate, but I do think, especially when it deals with marginalized pain or deals with privileged pain in a way that truly hits its mark, people will tend to not want to watch it.

It's not uniquely American for people to not want to get to close to this sort of pain. It seems like the product of neoliberalism: even the most victimized people in the poorest countries are told that what truly matters is their authenticity, their integrity. Labour is increasingly expendable, people can easily lose everything... and so they are being comforted with the idea that at least they *are themselves* (hence why I'm always trying to define being trans not as "who I am, who I truly am inside" and more in terms of "my freedom of association and self-definition is being taken from me, using biology as an excuse". When people want to *be themselves*, experiencing a story where they have to be vulnerable can be incredibly difficult.

I'm still not sure why rich people applauded "Parasite" -- did the film fail on some level, or did they shield themselves from the film's message -- and I can't say what the magic ingredients are to make a story impact its target audience. Parasite, though, is about poor people told from their perspective -- and rich folks are the Other. So maybe that explains its muted effect: Like that social media post about bullies at school cheering on Dumbo the elephant beating up his bullies. This is the story of Dumbo, audiences cheer Dumbo on because they like him. They aren't vulnerable to the critique of Dumbo or Parasite, because the hero isn't a bully like them. And bullies are fundamentally unsympathetic as characters. Audiences tend to want them to die.

I think a really psychologically effective horror film is one where the protagonists are people the audience relates to, who do bad things that the audience somewhat dislikes but can find understanding for and where the antagonist isn't a bringer of morality, but simply a force of destruction. Where the core defining aspect of the monster isn't how clearly it reflects some real-world problem, but how relentlessly it pursues its tastes or agenda. The monster(s) acts like a real-life problem in its horrific effects, but it isn't allegorical. Or at least not allegorical for an issue near and dear to the audience's heart. But I'm not sure how much horror can actually cause audience introspection. I don't think we can fully expect entertainment to hit the mark on that. People watch entertainment for the fun of it -- if someone wants entertainment to be transformative, they need to take notes from entertainment that appears to have a genuinely transformative effect (like "A Short Film About Killing" which supposedly ended the death penalty in Poland or "Jaws" which supposedly caused a temporary shark murder spree).

But regardless I think it makes sense to realize that horror films that make the audience feel smart for avoiding bad things and horror films that harrow the audience with inescapable horror are pandering to different desires and are, in a sense, different genres. If you know that, you have a better grasp on how to design your own stories or how to recommend stories you come in contact with.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[reno-writes]

Icy-Hot

[Image from Love & Deepspace]

Rating: +18

Word count: 2,984

Type: Smut

Characters: Zayne x Reader [Female Reader], Caleb 

Trigger warnings/content: Jealousy, a little bit possessive, childhood friends to lovers, genitalia.

❅*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙    ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

The thrill of chasing her into the fields was something Zayne never really did as a child. Always observing from afar your joyous smile through the golden fields as your smile shines. That daisy flower print sundress that grandma made with that teal sun hat. Keeping the sun out of your young glimmering eyes.

“Zayne!” Your voice was so clear, so chipper. The sun always gives you this warm glow dancing on your skin. All he could do was sit, stare and admire. Until he saw another boy come out to call out your name. His smile made him angry. Maybe that was the first time he felt jealousy. Your cute sundress dancing as you chased the other boy named-

 “Zayne?” His fingers kept clicking away on his keyboard. Resting his scarred hands on his keyboard to glance at you through his frames.

“What is it? If I answer your question, will you let me get back to my work?” Though you have been friends since childhood; you still had that prying question that prodded his work time. Yet, everytime, he fell for your siren voice. Capturing his attention, pausing his work.

“Listen- I sprained my wrist and ankle,” you sat at his therapy chair, dangling the wrist from the grasp of the other hand. Legs crossed over at the knee, ankle clearly swollen. All he could do was sigh. You were like this all the time. No matter how many times you do this hunter job, you always get reckless. And no matter how many times you come to him with an injury, he was always expecting you to come in. Saying his name. Of course, no one else had the privilege of calling him by just his name. It was always Dr.Zayne for everyone else. He got up, a little annoyed but a little pleased that you relied on him this way. Grabbing a bottle of some icy-hot (a cream that cools on the skin, then feels hot to help ease the pain), he knelt down on a knee to apply it on that ankle.

“And I need you to listen when I tell you to be more careful,” carefully pulling the shoe off and the sock off in one pull. He could see your ankle definitely was sprained at least, if not broken. “What did you even do? Trip?” Bingo. Face turning into that cotton candy pink, he could read you like a picture book that he used to see you read as a kid. “Always clumsy. Always.”

“Hey! I couldn’t- ouch!” He intentionally applied a little pressure when he rubbed the cream into the skin. A little massage would help circulate the blood a bit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the wad of bandages, all perfectly wrapped up. Snuggly, he bound it around the base of your foot, to the top of your ankle. “Watch it!” 

“You wouldn’t be injured if you had just listened to me like I always tell you,” as he cuts the end and clips it. Standing up onto his feet as he takes a hold of your injured wrist and starts the same process. His ice gray eyes only stared at your wrist when he subconsciously started to tighten his grip. Were your wrists this small? “Have you been eating?” Maybe it was his imagination that felt like he went through this before.

“Of course I have been since-”

“Well, hello, Zayne. Or shall I say, doctor?”

Zayne looked up and recognized the face that he knew all too well. The boy that chased you in the fields. The one that always danced with you. The one that always told you that you looked pretty. The one that took you away from his novels to play spot the i-spy books. Taking the words that Zayne said already but exclaiming it.

“Hello…Caleb. Colonel now I assume,” he could feel icicles forming in his blood. “I had heard you were back,” nearly snapped at him but he wanted to stay professional in case anyone came in and saw how he was acting. Caleb chuckled. Zayne clenched his fist. There was no way this man came back just now when things were just finally becoming great in his life. You, him and his job. 

“Well-” Caleb stated slyly, as he grabbed your uninjured wrist. Clearly trying to assert dominance despite being in Zayne’s office. “You know, she and I were just out, you know.”

“So you were the one that let her get injured. That makes more sense now.” Of course Zayne was not going to back down from Caleb. Not when he came into his office, with you injured on his couch. Caleb scoffed and clicked his tongue.

“Now that she is all bandaged up from the doctor. I am going to bring her home with me and make sure she is well taken care of. Thank you. Doctor.” Zayne raised his eyebrows. There was something off about Caleb. Granted, when Zayne and Caleb were young, there was a rivalry. Now, there was this weird aura.

“I am about to be done with my shift anyway. I can bring her home-” Zayne insisted, sensing some sort of eeriness from Caleb. As he stood in front of his desk to close his laptop, he felt a pull from Earth. Landing his ass onto his office chair.

This man had Evol. That means he-

Caleb shook his head and lifted you off the couch with ease. Casually smiling at you, then at Zayne. “Thank you for the offer. But you must have other patients. It’s unprofessional to only pay attention to someone you personally know.” As he used his dirty boots to kick open the door, there was a little tinge of flaring purple in Caleb’s eyes. “I appreciate you taking care of her. As she did fall pretty hard earlier.” He did this. Caleb definitely was the reason why you were hurt. After Caleb left, he felt all the gravity lift off of him. Nearly falling out of his chair, he had to take a moment to compose himself. He stood up, packed his laptop. Unhooking his trench coat and scarf to venture out in the cold. His smartphone buzzed to only see your name blinking on his screen.

“Zayne speaking,” he knew it was you. It was this game he liked to play to see what your reaction was going to be. There was a sigh on the other end. “I am sorry, Zayne. Caleb was being a bit of a brat. I demanded he take me home. I am almost there.” Zayne could tell you were fiddling with your fingers while being in the car with your childhood best friend. Caleb probably could hear the whole conversation, but clearly you did not care. “I can make some honey chamomile tea to make it up for you?” Your voice was as fresh and pure as the snow. Unlike that prick Caleb that-

“Hm, I was thinking about picking up some macarons. Did you want some?” Zayne was already about to walk into the dessert store to order a pack of twelve, before he heard a chuckle from you. “What?”

“You are already in the sweets store right?” You knew him too well. “I heard the bell that chimes whenever you go to that store”. You were his girl. Caleb could not catch up to Zayne’s status with the time that was lost.

“I’ll see you at your place then.”

 It was just like old times. Just you and him. The blanket on your lap as you sipped some hot tea, gently coasting it with the injured wrist. The snow was falling outside your window. It was times like these that he cherished. 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Always asking that. Nonetheless, he savored every word and action, recording it into his brain.

“Of course I do,” your face clearly showed disappointment and you shook your head. 

“You never have time anymore. We used to hang out all the time-.”

“We used to. I am a doctor now. People need me.” “Well, I need you too, Zayne. As a friend.”

His finger clutched onto his cup of hot tea a little too hard. Those words cut deep. “You can always make an appointment-”

“That’s why I have been talking to Caleb about-” There you went, pouring salt into the wound and rubbing it in. As the cup he held shattered in his fingers. “Zayne! Are you hurt?” He could see you get up and grab a towel, wrapping it around his fingers. “Oh thank goodness the tea didn’t get on you.” Your voice was soft. Careful. Alluring. “You could have gotten hurt, doctor.” Seductive.

“Doctor? You have never called me that before.” Pulling his hand away from you, he looked at the cuts on his fingers and assessed it. If he got hurt, would you pay attention to him more than Caleb? No no. He can’t stoop as low as that colonel. He could never use Caleb’s dirty tricks to keep you around himself. Caleb would of course. That would be absurd. “I am fine.” There was a look on your face. One of concern. “What is it now? Are you okay? Does your wrist hurt?”

“This is what I mean, Zayne.” He was puzzled. He was just doing his job to make sure you were physically, mentally and emotionally okay. It was always his job. As a friend sure, but as your physician too.

“And what do you mean by that then?”

“You are always working. Why can’t it be how it used to be? Just not thinking about work all the damn time!” It hurts to see you hurt. It hurts to see you on the verge of tears. It hurts to see you apologize on the behalf of Caleb, that old friend of yours…and begrudgingly his as well. Maybe he was working too much. Every time you came in, injured or not, work felt like home again. “Sorry, forget what I just said. I am just stressed about Caleb.” There it was. His time to strike.

“Oh? What do you mean? I thought he was your friend?” Zayne says with clear curiosity as he gets up to fix another glass of tea. You sigh and plop down on the couch. “Not as a therapist. Not as a doctor. As a friend, and as someone that knows Caleb and how he is-”

“That is the thing. Something is off about him.” Pouring the hot water into his new cup, he came back around and sat next to you. “You saw it too, right?” He nods in agreement. Not just because he wanted to slightly win you over, but also he definitely noticed that stare. “I am not crazy! Thank god! I didn’t think Caleb was so possessive over me.” 

“But I get a little possessive too. Understandable when you keep getting hurt.” You shook your head, trying to convince Zayne that there was more to it.

“I swear when you do it, it's out of love and care. And it never bothers me when you do it.” He felt his heart race. The warmth of his blood flowing into his arms. “When he does it…I don’t know. Am I crazy Zayne?” He must have been so out of it, when he blinked and saw himself reflecting back in your eyes. His arm goes up and around your shoulder, bringing you close. Grasping your bandaged hand. Gently caressing the white fabric with his finger tips. Smiling. 

“So you don’t mind when I get a little possessive with you? That is a bit surprising.” Checking another thing that you mentioned into his mental notebook about you. He felt your temperature rising against his arm. He would know this with how much he has examined your body. He knew every little thing your body did. What it did. How it reacts. He turns and guides your injured hand to his face. What made him nuzzle into your palm was beyond him. Maybe it was those jealous feelings he felt before that made him like this.

“I mean…” your voice fell into a whisper. “I definitely don’t hate it.” He kissed your palm. Slowly letting go as your palm stayed in place. That hand never left contact as it slid across your shoulder, your neck line, then your other shoulder. Grasping it gently. It was like the time you smiled in that sunlight, but something else was there now. It wasn’t jealousy or admiration. It was beauty. It was love. Something he only heard of in novels. Of course he knew it existed. He just never cared to explore it.

“Then let me ask you a question,” leaning against you. He could feel you shaking in his grasp. “Do you hate it when I am this close?”

“I don’t hate it ever.” “Ever?” He faces closer. “What if I say you are the reason I have a fever right now?” You swallow, as your eyes look over his shoulder. He knew you were lying. And you knew you were lying too. “Then cure me.” Hovering his lips over your quivering ones. As he gently captures your lips with his. His arm slides back to where it once was, as he leaned over you. Your injured wrist on his chest. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears. The taste of tea lingered on his tongue. Sticky honey exchanged before he pulled away, caressing your cheek. “I think I need more. It’s not enough.” Panting as he dived in for another kiss, pinning her arm down. “Let me do everything. We can’t have your wrist injured any further.” His fingers rub small circles into your arm. “Hold onto me darling.” Releasing your arm, just to sling those arms around him. Gently grasping his hair to just release that extra tension. Unbuttoning those pants slowly, fumbling despite doing it so many times to tend your wounds near your hipline. As he kneels in between your legs. His long fingers hooking on the belt loops and pulling it off, as the panties come off with it. This was one of the few times you looked shy. You never were this shy in front of him when you needed something. Only he got to see this side. Doctor Zayne, was the only one seeing you in this state. Discarding your pants elsewhere in the room, as he yanks off his belt and unzips his dress pants. His bulge greeted the air. Slowly peeling off his pants, as he was about to take off his boxers; he looked at you. You needed him. Not how you said earlier. But it might as well mean the same thing. Zayne went down to capture your lips, this time nipping at your lips. As his own hand slipped onto the elastic band of his boxers, to slip it down his thighs. To kick it off behind him. 

“Doctor- I mean Zayne-” He craved more. He wanted more. The sinful want that fell from your wet lips made his breath get caught in his chest.

“What can I do for you darling?” His mouth breaks to fully hear your pleas. 

“I need you. Please”. His calloused fingers grasped his leaking member. Slowly pumped it before guiding it to your wet entrance. His mind was elsewhere. How he prayed he will be the first and only one to see you in this state. You are his patient. He was the one that will always be there for you. Slowly pushing into you, your face contorts into discomfort. Your nails racking down his sweating back as he grits his teeth.

“Breathe for me,” stating as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He only studied anatomy. The practice was never studied. As your breathing steadied, he pushed in inch-after-inch until he was fully inside. “It’s okay darling. Let me handle this like I always have.” Zayne’s fingers gently gripped the bed. As one hand held part of your hip, he started to slowly find its rhythm. Melodic moans filling the apartment, harmonizing with his moans. Until her phone started to buzz. 

Caleb

Zayne wanted Caleb to hear everything that he was hearing. To see every droplet of sweat trailing down your body that came from him. However, some things were kept a secret. Just like a patient and doctor. His pace went harder, more relentless without realizing as you finally gasped out.

“I’m cumming Zayne”. He was frantic for your touch. Your nails dug in as your orgasm coursed through. Zayne was not far behind, before he pulled out, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His hand is adjusting so it’s near your hair. Tugging it oh so slightly.

“Me too darling-” his seed spewing out onto your bare stomach. His panting slowly subsided. “You finally listened to me.” A smile tugging on the corners of his lips, as he kisses your forehead. Getting up to grab a paper towel to clean up his mess he decided at that moment to put it on you. Discarding the paper towel, before grabbing the blanket you wrapped yourself up earlier to hug the both of you on the couch. You were slowly falling asleep as he tucks himself between the back of the couch and you, one arm pulling you close. 

“What about work?”

“I can call in.” “But what about the patients?”

“But you said you needed me darling” As your exhausted eyes closed, he tucks a hair sticking to your nose, behind your ear. Before picking up your phone and noticing a few missed calls from that childhood friend of yours. Unlocking it. Then merely texting a simple message.

[I am with her now. Doctor’s orders. She is in the utmost care. Talk to me anytime you need a talk (11:32pm - Doctor Zayne)]

[neopet-euthanization]

okay this is all written like it’s something new, but police and prosecutors have been using social media DMs and the like for quite a while now. probably as long as this stuff as been around. when it comes down to it nothing you put into words in digital form is safe. nothing.

what usually happens when you commit a serious crime is they’ll find some way to involve your phone such that they can get a warrant for it. call logs are a pretty easy get, usually, and texts, around the time of the crime. legally they’re allowed to take your phone before they get a warrant, as a matter of preserving evidence. once they have the judge’s sign off, they’ll plug your phone into their cellbrite analyzer.

remember when you’d get a new phone and they’d have to plug the old one in to transfer all your data? when that became obsolete due to cloud storage that company moved on to specifically doing forensic downloads. and they get EVERYTHING. including things that are deleted. they’ll see all the apps you have, whether there’s data stored in them, what kind of data, and they’ll see when/how you used them. Things like Facebook, Twitter, Google, etc. they need to issue a subpoena to the company asking for the data specifically. some require law enforcement to be extremely specific in what they request (Google is like this for geofencing data - they straight up refuse to provide it if the request is too broad). however when they’re served a valid subpoena they’re legally obligated to comply.

subpoenas for information even override HIPAA and therapy/mental health confidentiality. the ONLY communications that are safe are those with your lawyer, as the attorney client privilege is the absolute highest and is rarely if EVER breached by a court. to the point that they will specifically bring in “taint attorneys” (yes the name is great I love it too) to look through and sort out privileged information. so this is a friendly side note if anyone happens to text a lawyer who is representing them TELL THEM WHEN THEY TAKE YOUR PHONE and get it on recording if possible because they’ll have to have someone else review it. i think most of us are not in positions where we have a lawyer representing us but i find this helpful info nonetheless. lawyer contacts are best made over phone or in person, just to be safe. and another side note, bringing ANYONE in to a discussion with you and your lawyer automatically waives this privilege. So if you 3 way call your cousin with your lawyer that could be considered waiving confidentiality.

all of this aside - any company has the ability to just, willingly give things to law enforcement, either upon being asked or just, because.

treat all digital communications like it could be read in court one day.

PSA: never discuss private affairs in your DMs, especially contraception and abortion. Social media moguls will absolutely sell you out to the government. There are already cases of people being charged based on evidence in their DMs.

[singsweetmelodies]

Piarles Winter Fic Exchange 2024/25 - The Final Round-Up

AO3 Collection Link

It's that time of the year again, and we are so excited to reveal the fics from the Piarles Winter Fic Exchange of 2024/25!

We want to start by saying a MASSIVE thank you to all our incredible creators. You are all so wonderful and so so talented - it has been an honour and a pleasure to spend the last few months with you. To laugh with you and to create with you and to share the Piarles joy with you. You are all phenomenal, and we feel so lucky that you chose to spend this time with us. ❤️

I also want to take this opportunity to say a personal thank you to my amazing mod team: @duquesademiel, @yukierres, and @welightitup. Moderating this exchange with you has been a pleasure and a privilege. Thank you all, for everything!

Below the cut we have the final round-up of all our 2024/25 Piarles Winter Fic Exchange gift fics. You are in for a real treat - enjoy!!! And don’t forget to show the authors some love in the form of kudos, comments, bookmarks and tumblr reblogs 💘

Thank you all so much again.

Love and hugs,

Katie, Sol, Immy & Tia. 🎁❄️💙

On Laughter-Silvered Wings by @espithewarlock | rated T | 50k words

Pierre's greatest dream is to join The Institution as one of the Carers - the people who watch and maintain dragon eggs for their eventual Dragon Riders. When he forms a True Bond with one of the eggs, Pierre is thrilled to join the nobles who are assigned to eggs within the same clutch. Unfortunately, the reception he receives from his classmates is less than welcoming.

we better make a start by @gaynfl | rated M | 12k words

A holiday together, like old times, means Pierre is heading home for the first time in five years. Oh, and seeing the person he's never really gotten over. or... love, in the Alps.

Do you still think of me sometimes? by @golden-fairylights | rated E | 15k words

“I mean, we would probably have more fun in bed than you had with him,” states Charles, still giggling, and he only realizes what he said when Pierre stills, his eyes fixed on Charles once more, but this time it feels completely different. “I mean,” Charles panics and desperately tries to find a way to talk himself out of this mess, “not that we should.” “No, but that’s not even a bad idea, Cha.” Charles’ mouth shuts when Pierre leans closer, his eyes moving quickly as if he is thinking the whole thing through again. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we are best friends, we can just tell each other if we don’t like something, we both have big career goals, so for both of us, friends with benefits is the best option. You told me you have experiences with that, I do too, as you well know now. It would be perfect.” --- They meet at Juilliard. Two kids with big dreams - love is definitely not part of them. But nothing can go wrong if they are friends with benefits. Not if they follow their rules. Right?

AFTER HOURS by @hourcat | rated E | 42k words

“He said,” Alex had repeated back to him as they did the final rounds, “that their star performer just collapsed in rehearsals this afternoon.” “And they called us?” “They called the hospital, who recommended a few local rehabilitation clinics for muscle pulls and shit. We were on that list, and Vasseur called us.” or: Charles is the star of this year's Nutcracker-themed Cirque du Soleil Christmas show in New York City, but a hamstring injury puts his availability at risk at the worst possible time. Enter Pierre Gasly: the best PT in all of Manhattan...or so he says.

you bring me something I can’t define by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 13k words

Pierre says it while Charles’ fork is halfway to his mouth and that’s how the rice ends up in his lap, the herbed butter staining the very delicate linen immediately. “It is just unfortunate that I am stuck now with calling a rut service.” Charles’ hand shakes as he brushes the rice onto the patio ground. It’s probably rude. Someone will have to sweep it up, but Charles’ hands are shaking and he needs to hide them, so he stuffs them underneath his thighs and looks directly at Pierre when he says, “I am free.” Charles offers a few days of his time. He ends up with much more.

oh, he makes me dizzy (honey honey) by @your-littlesecret | rated G | 15k words

In hindsight, a 10-day road trip on the Italian coast with his best friend whom he's secretly in love with might not have been his best idea. But Lance is getting married and Charles has never been able to say no to Pierre. Maybe things will be just fine between them...

I, can’t afford to lose you any longer by @laeana | Not Rated | 6k words

When Charles wakes up with a pounding headache and a strange tattoo around his wrist, he doesn't know yet that he has involved himself with a Fae. The deal he made? The possibility to find his one true love in exchange for his F1 career if he doesn't succeed within a year. A stupid deal really. That's how he starts to search for his destined one, with Pierre by his side.

a light in your window by @chaesonghwas } rated E | 39k words

Mr. Charles Leclerc has been in love with his best friend, Mr. Pierre Gasly, for as long as he has been on this Earth. There is only one problem - Pierre is an alpha and Charles is decidedly a beta... until he presents as an omega unexpectedly one day, leaving their friendship compromised and forcing a betrothal. - Or: how Charles' destiny changes, nudging him towards Pierre.

one deep breath out from the sky by @duquesademiel | rated M | 60k words

Ten years ago, Pierre left his hometown because he couldn’t bear seeing Charles leave to fulfil a destiny he thought would end in death. Today, he’s back.

Sickness by another name by @captaincrabpot | rated T | 33k words

Charles is approaching his last season in formula one, facing the finality of all he’s spent his life working for. Pierre is mentoring an up and coming driver who just signed her first contract in F1 for Ferrari, and though he would die for her, he’s going to have to face his ex best friend who broke his heart right before the crash that ruined his life. Doriane just wants to win, and if that means parent trapping her mentor and his weird ex… well, that would be fine.

Right In Front of Me by @espithewarlock | rated G | 4k words

Charles' magic has always been strong and he believed it would only get stronger once he met his soulmate. When the FIA mandates tests to determine if they've met their soulmate, Charles discovers that he already has. Maybe going as far back as when his magic manifested. Now, he just has to figure out who it is.

Closing Arguments by queenofblasphemy | Not Rated | 8k words

Charles's first day at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country starts out with meeting an asshole at a café. An asshole that would soon play a bigger part in his life than he could ever have imagined.

the sound of the saw must be known by the tree by @radiocheck } rated T | 25k words

“What are you doing here?” Pierre looked around him as if there was an audience waiting to laugh at such an obvious question. “Oh, I don’t know. Studying?” “You’re… you’re… you…” Charles could feel his face turning furiously red the longer Pierre stared at him with that infuriating, lopsided smile. His heart and mind were racing at a million miles an hour and his mouth simply couldn’t keep up. “You’re studying architecture.” It wasn’t a question. “At the school I wanted to go to my whole life.” “Architectural and interdisciplinary studies, actually.” Charles’ embarrassment and confusion were suddenly replaced by an intense, burning rage. This was his dream. It always had been. Pierre knew that, and Charles knew just as well that he didn’t have the slightest bit of interest in studying the same thing, or even going to university at all. “Because of me?” Charles was raising his voice now and drew himself up in stature, trying to make the most of the centimetre of height he had on Pierre. “Do I still occupy such a vast space in your mind that you came all the way here to fucking ruin my life?” OR: what happens when Charles gets into his dream uni only to find his ex enrolled in the same class.

for I can’t help falling in love with you by @tiredtiredsharl | rated E | 40k words

Pierre is doing his best. He's a single dad and even though the French Immersion School was not in his plan, he understands why his in-laws feel it's important Aimée attend. He's doing his best. He could never have seen his daughter's theatre professor coming in a million years and maybe it's best that it caught him completely off guard - falling in love for the first time unprepared. Maybe that's what's best.

in a daze, learning each other’s shapes by @singsweetmelodies | rated E | 28k words

When Charles Leclerc's friends bully him into joining them on a ten-day holiday to a beautiful island for New Year's, Charles is barely even expecting to enjoy it, let alone meet the love of his life there. But then he meets Pierre, and everything changes.

pushing it down and praying by @yukierres | rated T | 21k words

“Mon petite, you need to not give up hope, I am sure there is someone out there perfect for you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you,” Pascale reminds him, voice full of motherly affection alongside the sadness. “But how am I meant to find them when I get hounded whenever I go out,” Pierre sobs, frustration likely loud in his voice, too sharp to be directed at his mother but he is too upset to notice. She doesn’t pull him out on it, instead pulling him tighter into her chest. “If you want someone so badly and you can’t find anyone, I will find someone for you. I am the Queen of France, I have connections, and there is nothing more that I want than for you to be happy.” Pascale suggests, nothing but kindness in her words. “And it would be so great if it could be before the Jubilee next year as well, so the media can see you nice and cosy with your new partner.” “Please,” is all he can whisper back, letting the tears fall from his eyes again. OR Pierre marries a stranger, falls in love, and watches himself break both of their hearts.

hear them sing (see them shine) by @alpinelogy | rated T | 10k words

The first time Pierre meets Charles, Charles is camped out in an asteroid belt that was once a moon before another celestial body crashed into it. It surrounds a planet near a dying star, practically only a red dwarf now. Soon, it will become a supernova. It is an uninteresting star, there is no beacon for it in the space time continuum. Charles has gotten better at controlling his hopping, over the years, decades, millennia even. OR: Charles keeps meeting Pierre over and over again for the first time.

twenty-five lives by @vicsy } rated M | 23k words

“I think I was meant to come back to you,” Charles whispered, overcome with a rare kind of veracity. Pierre brought his hand up, letting it hover momentarily. Then he swiped a pad of his thumb across Charles’ cheekbone, maddeningly slow, sealing his words with an invisible brand. “Good,” he drawled, voice but a gentle rumble; a purr of an engine. “You should stay.”

❤️💙

[sukunasun]

Do you ever plan to write a fic with a grumpy reader? Maybe with Getou or any chara of your choice?

screaming from the top of a building: grumpy readers are so relatable and deserve more nuance than being labelled as ice queens and stone-cold bitches! there is much more to unfold beyond the harsh exterior. how cantankerous and irritable you are but nonetheless meant to be understood and loved.

quietly, you lay there stowing away as a recluse. you love your books and your crochet hooks. working away and making the most of me-time. people don't draw near. instead, they try prodding with sticks and hurtling stones for a reaction hoping it's a smile or a nice conversation between two, but there is no gambling and taking chances. no risking it 'depending on your mood' because the weather report calls for sunny skies and yet, the storming grey cloud above your head stays looming. permanently brewing.

you claim it's just your face, your attitude, and overall unapproachable aura that inhibits you from making contacts and connections. an RBF that can't be cracked. "she's so intimidating," is a grating sound. you have long since given up on explaining yourself or waiting for the chance to when the backstory and lore is too revealing. not exactly dinner party talk. you wish it could be as easy as saying "im hurt and heartbroken beyond repair. mothering fear and angst without needing comfort." it feels nice, well-deserved even to wallow in dread.

there's bound to be disappointment from unmet expectations thus, you've stopped having them altogether. it feels better than accepting affection with open arms. so wrong, so weird to be wanted, to be chosen. where's the catch? when will the other shoe drop? the cycle of starting over becomes tiring, tedious—a mechanical performance. a complex creature who requires better coping mechanisms and a man who won't stab you in the back. friends who'd stop poking holes in the reasons when you say no, yet again, to meeting someone new in this state: when bricks are laid and piled high up in uniformed rows surrounding, it warrants avoiding all forms of showing and receiving love after the years spent shaping the architecture of your defences.

then there's geto. with his charm and wit and the way he pries the person from underneath facades and fabricated masks. your fragile, rocking foundations built on sand he topples down with a mere smile, hardened fortitudes he crushes to dust, weaving within hairline cracks and exploring the caverns of your heart like no one has before. all without much effort, or rather, he doesn't need to exert himself when you fall so willingly.

"why don't we do something else tonight, dinner and a movie?" he questions when you call again. right after work when the stress is at an all-time high and he's...well, you don't know what he does, but he makes himself available for you. he'll admit it's made him feel special being the only person let in, when everyone else has to scavenge for scraps, he's a privileged selected one. seen the glimpses of the warmth you possess when laid bare and sated.

such a skill he has to wring out the truth. still, you go on with the "i like being alone," answer. a mantra, a repetitive hymn to soothe the sting and sharp clawing against the chest til it no longer feels so. numb and sore aches it leaves behind. 'you'll regret it when you realize i'm too much for you,' stays clogged in your throat. he'd only admonish you for such thoughts. 'that's not true' he'd say, but you know better than to believe that.

"i get it," geto replies, feigning casualness when he's not a stranger to isolation and avoidant habits. sometimes he wished he wasn't exposed to a mirror of his own makeup. a paragon of performative indifference and detachment. "i'll leave when you want me to," he reassures you, but was that a wavering you hear in his voice? you don't dare assume because he makes things easy. not the kind to complicate, nor commit. say the word and he'd give you all the solitude you need. dodging the serious questions and serious labels. friend, boyfriend, guy-im-sleeping-with. he doesn't care for them because you don't.

maybe he's just referring to the task at hand, used to forgoing aftercare and post-orgasm cuddles for a late-night drive home. excluding that one time you allowed him a night on your couch. he won't stay if your hand comes up to his sweaty chest, pushing him away before he's had the chance to pull out and slide the worn condom off. it keeps him at a distance and he takes it as a sign that this is as far as intimacy goes—no kissing on the lips, no secrets and sweet nothings, your moans don't escape and neither do his plethora of dirty speeches, stifled and gritting in a tight-lipped prison—there is no room for it at all.

the last thing you need is to dispose whatever is left of an already flimsy resolve. becoming vulnerable and exposed to his rejection or the knee-jerk reaction when he touches you—when the strap of your dress falls at an angle, he instinctively chases after the smooth slope of shoulder with his lips, pressing soft kisses there and everywhere else simmering with anxiety, humming pleased and contented to taste the nerves slipping away, sinking his teeth in and feeling the flesh give to his possession—a longing that courses through and wrenches around your heart tight. you're so selfish to follow after his hands, to feel them feel you. they should be upon another but he grabs and gropes greedily like he can't wait any longer.

"or you could let me stay," he offers.

"the couch makes your back hurt," you reply.

"your bed is big enough for two," he counterclaims. doing what he does best. it's not the first time he's tried to hint at more, waiting for the opportune moment when you're putty in his hands, relenting to him.

"we can't," you gasp when he slips two fingers past your dripping folds. the smirk he wears hidden in the crook of your neck. "why–" you claw at his forearm tucked between your thighs, clenching around his limb for leverage while he makes you squirm and jolt with every nudge against your gspot. "–why me?" why an unpleasant, unfriendly, unwanted woman like you, haven't you suffered enough? why does he choose to torment you with his favour while seeking for yours. you remind yourself there's no place, no space for him here. you like the way things are no matter how painfully lonely it gets, you like the cool touch of your sheets and the emptiness your fingers trail over in the mornings. it's what you know, what you settled for. since when do two people meet and see each other for themselves, choosing to stay for long after the thinly veiled ugliness is stripped away. how do you tell him you're starting to grow accustomed. almost adoring. you've flown too close to the sun before, how do you deal with the fallout when you're inevitably lurched into the suffocating and slow descent towards earth?

in the last few seconds cresting upon your climax, suguru feels it building around the edges of your jittering limbs. head lolling back as you choke, fighting back your moans. your hips thrust in time, chasing after his fingers. he settles them as deep as he can, pumping fast and pressing down against your clit til it hurts, til the hard pressure causes your juices to drip down his fingers, squelching and making a mess.

fuck it, he knows it's the only time you'll have him this close so his arms brace you, supported by his strong chest, crushed by his biceps, suguru coaxes you, "i don't care how far you push me, or how much you pretend, i want you and i know you want me too—"

you shake your head, resisting, stop it, stop uncovering me. he talks of your lust as if some incontrovertible proof, you won't give in. with indefatigable, unwavering effort you set the record straight. "i don't like you like that," lying right as you're about to explode from pleasure, not the kind that feels like a firework, shooting silent and bursting forth, but you seize every muscle in his hold. choking on your breaths and feeling it tighten and coil in your stomach, in your toes, compact and revving, it releases like an engine. rolling and roiling so unyieldingly it makes your ears ring, suffocating you til your vision goes black, and a scream forces it way past your lips.

neither high-pitched nor guttural, it reverberates so soothingly, "im sorry!" you cry. for being this way, for using and tossing him aside, for wanting more. you sob with your head thrown back while suguru hums right against your ear. sounding pleased and pleasured with your admission.

slowing his fingers in time with your panting breaths, he questions "do you really think i wouldn't like you?" it's not the right time to do this but he can hardly bear it, he longs for truth, "do you not believe me?"

looking upon his face through half-lidded eyes, you see that interrogative spark in his expression, his arms never letting go. a tense anticipation takes shape. the air is thick with the scent of damp skin and something else—his shampoo, his cologne, you chase after it for more, pressed into his chest, it only takes one whiff to get a fill, the same way you cling to the corners of pillowcases and duvet covers for that little bit.

what has changed? he makes you act a fool, forlorn and fumbling around in the most fatuous ways. i want you he said so clearly. and it warms your being like never before. there is an urge to make excuses, accuse him for being in lust, he only said it in the heat of the moment, ensnared by a need for possession.

but there is no point in looking back.

"i believe you," you say, noses bumping and slotting close when your lips betray your better judgement, or rather, your unfavourable one. "i'll try." is the best you can offer.

[spacelazarwolf]

ashkenazi is a minhag not a race. ‘ashkenazi jew’ just means ‘my ancestors ended up in the ashkenaz’ or ‘i follow ashkenazi traditions.’ it says less than nothing about what you look like. i could give you the same reply i give everyone who tries to make this argument, that there are plenty of non white ashkenazi jews, that there are plenty of white non ashkenazi jews, that it’s antisemitic as fuck to assert that ashkenazi jews have inherent racial privilege simply for being ashkenazi, but i think that’s the wrong move because i’m not going to meet you in you misconception. i’m going to try to bring you into the actual conversation.

i said this in another reblog but i’ll reiterate. individual whiteness and institutional whiteness are two very different things, and i think the reason these conversations are so exhausting is because 99.99% of the time, “are jews white” is not a discussion of individual whiteness. it’s a discussion of institutional whiteness, which is even more important to have now that many western countries are headed back toward a more explicit institutionalized white supremacy.

individual whiteness is highly contextual. if you have never had any experiences that made you question how people perceived your race, then you’re probably pretty solidly white. if sometimes you get pegged as white but sometimes you don’t, or if you have to put active effort into looking white, that is an entirely different experience than someone who’s never thought about it a day in their life. which is yet another entirely different experience from someone who is always perceived as not white and chooses not to or cannot pass as white. this is, i guess pun intended, not a black and white issue. just because you, a progressive, look at someone and think they look white doesn’t mean a racist isn’t going to look at them and notice their aquiline nose or textured hair or eye shape. there is no line between white and not white, and imo trying to create one is just giving ground to white supremacists, which i for one refuse to do.

but the problem is, people keep trying to apply these observations about individual whiteness to institutional whiteness, not understanding that institutional whiteness is not based on individual skin color. at its core, it’s based in culture. white supremacists don’t think they’re superior specifically because they have white skin. the ideology of white supremacy was created to explain why, in the eyes of white supremacists, their culture was so much better than everyone else’s. you can see this in nazi germany and fascist italy, the fixation on german culture or italian culture being superior. this was their primary motivator. physical appearance was just the thing that was most obviously different between them and other civilizations outside europe, so it was a convenient explanation.

another thing that cannot be understated in this conversation is that white supremacy was created specifically with jews in mind. yes, white supremacists in europe had contempt for different cultures in other countries and there were a lot of horrific ways that manifested. but this conversation is about jews. jews were the foreigners living among them. they had been othering us for centuries. there was always some explanation for why the jews couldn’t have rights or why the jews were the problem, whether it was cultural or religious, it always boiled down to “they aren’t like us.” and when the ideology of white supremacy was forming, a huge part of it was another attempt in a string of attempts to explain why the jews, the “other”, were inferior. it is not up for debate whether or not jews have access to institutional whiteness. we do not, because it’s an institution that was created specifically and explicitly to exclude us by name.

so hopefully with that context it’s easy to understand why “but police aren’t going to distinguish between a [non black] jew and a white person” in a conversation about institutional whiteness is simply a nonargument. it doesn’t engage with the root of the conversation, and at the end of the day all it does is derail it. and that is not helpful for anyone.

schrodinger's jew: jews are and are not white until an antisemite makes up their mind about which type of antisemite they want to be.

[socksual-innuendos]

I've always said that Raul's quest endings seem a bit misplaced/misdirected and I feel like it's time I finally get around to explaining why.

So, in reality, I think given Raul's backstory and the situation we find him in, the retirement ending doesn't make sense to me. Accept you're an old man and leave the gun slinging to the new generation....maybe, for someone who's actually long hauled fighting and not done scraps only when emotions ran high.

Raul makes cracks about being an old, grumpy man, and while we know ghoulification slows aging/he ghouled when he was in his 30s, "being old" seems like a red herring for his real conflict; isolation.

Raul isolates himself like crazy. We see this in his shack, his town wandering, the outskirts of communities, his "Old Miguel" persona. Even his sees-you-as-Her obsession with Claudia screams outside looking in. He craves community in some fashion and he denies himself it for several reasons. And honestly, denies might he too strong of a word here. The man has 2 charisma, he very well might not know how to integrate into a post apocalyptic society.

I say keep Raul's Ghost Vaquero end as one option, one that reinforces this outsider burden he holds fast to but gives him a new purpose as a ghoul in the post apocalypse, and the other end is where he ends up part of a community, realizing that even if his home and family have gone that there are ways to rebuild with others. More so, either toss retirement out the window completely or make it the neutral ending when the courier aquires him as a companion but doesn't complete his quest.

I still do like the idea of him seeming to think himself too old for things, but he should also self limit when being talked into a "potential" retirement end. Raul doesnt know what he wants yet, he's a pre war man who suddenly had expectations, tradition, and family knocked out of him in several large mushroom clouds.

Retirement sounds Correct for a man his age, even though the proper thing to do at his age is to be a century past dead. But he doesn't feel like he's of retiring time. His knees creak, and his back hurts, and this shit started before he ghouled because he was a man in his 30s who worked on his family's ranch since being knee-high and despite physically feeling like he could keep going, emotionally he has no where to put it.

There is this misplaced sense of self Raul has, where he was very likely not even the spare to his family's ranch (which, I will reiterate again. His family is well off to be running a horse ranch) but he had some inherent place in society via his relationships with other people. He grew up with enough privilege and social guidelines to get by with 2 charisma (assuming this wasn't skill degradation post-war). This would need to be rehauled not only after the bombs dropped, but once societies started reforming in the post apocalypse.

Anyway, I think Raul's two endings best fit him as

Ghost Vaquero, the vengeful spirit of Hidalgo Ranch. This is to work in such a way that it almost strip him of his current identity, taking on all the baggage of his loss and forming it into a driving force for bounty hunting. Actual justice results may vary.

Old Mechanics End. Raul allows himself to settle into a community proper, allows himself to aquaint and even befriend people, and occupationally becomes their mechanic/trade mentor with a bit of gun slinging as needed for town defense.

Which my last addition to this (i am ranting now) is that it seems hilarious to me that being multifaceted with mechanics and being quick with a gun was suddenly placed in an either or scenario. Raul is a boon to have in any community. Man can shoot and man can repair, literally perfect. It makes sense his vanilla retirement end doesnt allow him gunslinging because you basically damn him to depression routine but get him some SSRIs and a knitting circle and he can have his wrench and gun cake and eat it too.

Anyway thanks for coming to my Ghoul Talk, AMA about my boy

[amphibious-thing]

d'Eon stated how women are morally superior, sure she's an avid feminist but would that make her a man-hating feminist?

I suppose it depends on what you mean by man-hating feminist.

For d'Eon morality was strictly tied to Christianity. D'Eon believed that God had created men and women as equals but that men had betrayed god by oppressing women. Kates explains:

Although "the intention of the Lord" was that men and women live as equals on earth as in Heaven, men did not live as God intended. They used their physical strength to dominate and exploit women, developing patriarchal institutions that systematically excluded women form positions of status and authority. "Men," d'Eon argued, "who by their strength and their gallantry seem like lions and tigers, have seized authority, all political positions all honors, all worldly riches, leaving women only the pain brought having babies." Men were not simply sexist, then, they used women to indulge in worldly things. Acquiring political power, military authority, material wealth, honors of one kind or another—this is what virility was all about. "The love of vainglory" lay at the heart of d'Eon's critique of manhood. Consequently, for a Christian a man's sexism was only one manifestation of his turning away from God, indulging in pleasures of the flesh. (p284)

In some ways her critique of manhood is mirrored in her critique of the wealthy, she writes:

What will happen to the great Duchesse de Monfalcon, who says that she would prefer to be damned alongside people of her own class than saved with maids and lackeys? Impurity among the privileged is a more dangerous example than among the disadvantaged. This most contagious, most persistent, and most shameful vice makes people suffer more than all the other vices. It has the same effect on the soul as the plague has on the body. (The Maiden of Tonnerre, p103)

Men's privilege makes them more susceptible to the sinful pleasures of the world, in much the same way that the privileges of the wealthy makes them more more susceptible to the sinful pleasures of the world.

It's all very Christian; pleasure is sinful and thus suffering is good.

However there is also themes of war throughout d'Eon's writing on gender and religion. D'Eon is purified by her conversion to womanhood in part because it takes her out of the sinfulness of the male sphere of the dragoon:

I was stripped of male clothing and my uniform, I was dressed in my first dress of innocence and placed among the Daughters of the Holy Mary and the Queen's women only that I might experience a new life and not live the old with a letter of promotion to the war office and the King's certificate sanctioning my service to my rank in the twenty-four regiments of the dragoons commanded by Colonel Beelzebub, head of the dragoons. (The Maiden of Tonnerre, p121)

D'Eon's views on gender were deeply influenced by her own lived experiences, the oppression she faced as a woman and her religious beliefs. As an atheist and a intersectional feminist I don't look to d'Eon for feminist theory and I personalty wouldn't recommend doing so. However her feminist beliefs are an interesting part of who she was and well worth studying in my opinion.

[lurking-latinist]

.

[thatfeyboy]

I will be completely real with you. The reason this is(most likely) believed is two fold; one, our society views men as always having the advantage over women even when it is blatantly untrue or more nuanced. It is gender validating for (some) trans women especially to view trans men as a big scary threat and getting privilege over them because that's what the other women talk about(regarding men) and is heavily ingrained in women's spaces AND queer spaces. It is also a way to put privilege on gender rather than sex traits, as many in women's spaces will try and remove them based on one aspect but not the other. Tying trans men(gender) to privilege and violence is a way for them to escape this form of persecution and rest that blame on someone else. Two, (some) trans women, and a few have stated this outright that are TRF types, say they are jealous of pre transition trans men's bodies. They view it as ruining their bodies and chance at idealness/perfection/beauty/etc with testosterone, as well as having a supposed "easier" transition. So blatantly lying and harassing trans men with things they KNOW are not true is a way of venting and validating themselves.

These folks think trans men have a leg up because they are viewed as men, while having a leg up because they supposedly "gave up" what they themselves desire and as trans women have experienced oppression from cis women(and that those same men can somehow easily jump between these types of privilege as trans men are actually just stupid cis women larping to be trans, as far as they are concerned). We are cis women+ to these people, not trans. They do not and will likely never view us as trans OR men, because they hold the same and in some cases worse views on this than their TERF relatives. It's disgusting, but I'm pretty sure this is what it is.

i fully buy that this (lowdosing) is true but oh my God why does it have to come back to "TMEs" believing that it's weaker? Why is the medical industry so invested in that? Why wouldn't it be invested in making "TMAs" believe that?

Most of the "TMEs" people refer to already have bodies that are affected by estrogen. In fact, if you actually talk to "transandrobros" you will find we often discuss how estrogen is wrongly and misogynistically portrayed as the weaker hormone, when we KNOW it isn't because it fundamentally changed our bodies in ways that require medical intervention to change again. Like. what do you think WE are gaining from trans women getting low dosed or propaganda about estrogen being weak. Why does this have to be about how the medical industry loves trans men and is only systemically against trans women. Hellloooooo

[mcytegg]

so are we gonna talk about how blindfold brothers and wemmbu kinda just treat the empire as on call fighters for zam bc of mapicc. he's zam's scary dog privilege LMFAO

[moeblob]

Right and his work menaces (Brent and Karen).

I don't remember last I mentioned it but apart from crude nicknames to people (except Chris), he also just puts them in his phone really weird (except Chris, who is literally in his phone as Chris). And I bring this up because in Right's phone, Karen is saved as "Lawful Obligation".

[unforth]

Hey if you're a white person (as I am too!) and reading the stuff about End OTW Racism (@end-otw-racism) is making you uncomfortable CONGRATULATIONS THATS THE POINT bipoc have been uncomfortable in fandom for decades and some of yall can't face being uncomfortable for five seconds and still have the gall to have shit like BLM in your descriptions.

Put your money where your mouth is. Be uncomfortable. Actually read what they're talking about and what changes they're proposing instead of jumping right to BuT wHaT aBoUt My DaRk FiC (they want to protect your dark fic and help ensure you're safer from harassment over it!)and ThEy'Re PrO-cEnSoRsHiP (they are explicitly not).

I'm so fucking tired of having my posts and those I reblog on this topic largely ignored on my personal account, but ESPECIALLY I'm furious about how ignored posts on racism in fandom are when I put them on the danmei art sideblogs.

I see racism every single fucking DAY as part of running those accounts. This isn't some nebulous thing happening elsewhere, this is us!

If you don't care, I really need you to take a long hard look in the mirror and ask yourself WHY DONT I CARE?

Because YOU SHOULD FUCKING CARE.

[cute-firelight]

I liked Caitvi in Season 2.

That said, that doesn’t mean I think their development is perfect.

For me what failed and felt kinda underwhelming was how the reuniting was done. It felt like as nothing had happened and they were like: oh! Well, You are here. And also Cait hiting Vi there again was not ok after what had happened. Like, that reuniting would have worked if the separation between them was less dramatic.

But for me, the rest of the development was handled very well and compensated that (the wording here is critical: FOR ME, if for other people is not enough is fine).

I liked the rawness of the impulsivity of what Caitlyn did, because honestly Cait was sooo bad but in general all their interactions after the bombing were really one sided from Caitlyn’s part, things were wrong since the start. The hit was just the culmination of all of it.

She convinced Vi to join the enforcers even with how hard was for her, then Vi begs her not to change, clinging to how Cait used to be when they met; but she now was in a complete another headspace.

You know, in the past I had a pretty bad moment psychologically, where my personality changed a lot. I felt like a genuine monster, I am not kidding. I never hit anyone but my behaviour still was totally not ok with my bf. I went to therapy, my boyfriend supported me and understood me, for my surprise, and now we have a very healthy relationship where I am a very supportive partner and we are both very happy with each other. It was all originated form insecurities and trauma, and because of that experience I can understand that ironically Cait felt powerless at that moment.

My interpretation of it is: she felt that the suit was big for her, but she had to wear it anyway to solve her mistake. In this mindstate she forces Vi to be an enforcer because she thinks is the same she is doing: wearing a suit she doesn’t want, and even if she doesn’t feel like it, because the situation requires to. Her dad did a hideous job at making her feel more guilty and more obligated to answer to it. Ofc I know you will say: but Vi’s trauma with enforcers is different than Cait’s with her mother and yes that is true. But is part of Cait blindness to the situation because of her mental state.

Then, Vi becomes an enforcer because she feels pressured to (this also probably needed a little bit of more showing and justification but I don’t see it unlikely).

They are hunting people with gas and all what it takes to solve everything is Cait to capture Jynx, this is a lot of pressure, she is dealing with the duel and everything at the same time. That moment of weakness and aggression from Cait was framed in a very specific situation when all the things that were pressuring her collapsed in one instant. Yes, her hitting embodied that privilege, and brutality but wasn’t that what they were already doing? I feel that is kinda the point? Cait there was perpetuating the system in where she was in by trying to hunt Jynx and by making all this gassing and stuff, and she felt forced to do it because of duty and guilt, and also that made her feel powered against her pain. Idk I liked that they dared to be so raw and harsh. (Basically, what I want to say here is that what you said about not being just a normal betrayal but a symbolism of their privilege difference and oppression I think that this was intentionally intended, I don’t understand the American lens comment bc I am not from the US)

What I would change of that scene maybe is the way the hit was done, because honestly the first time I watched I thought that she had broken a rib and let Vi injured. Sooo, maybe, not having Cait hit Vi at all and just to push her away and run. Then Vi would try to run after Cait again and in that moment Cait would threaten to hit Vi with the gun, then Vi would froze because that would remind her of her trauma and Cait would tell her about not wanting to see her again or hate her or something and to take the chance and run away (this scene could work both if the hit happens or not).

I wouldn’t rate her dark ark/redemption as perfect. Those are very very difficult to do but is not the worse I have seen. Again, if for you was enough or not is something more personal in my opinion.

Lastly, the ending of their arc makes a lot of sense. Cait said: fuck it. If she releases Jynx I don’t care, is not only Jynx’s fault but also my fault because I also couldn’t handle the situation between us properly. If there are more consequences I will face them.

Ambessa was a bigger threat than Jynx and I made her grow and she made the conflict worse. So basically: we both are the same. Cait trusted Vi’s judgement, something she didn’t do at the beginning by being super patronizing and saying how wrong she was, what was right to choose for her to do etc.. here she acknowledges Vi’s agency and lets her choose, with that Vi sees that the Caitlyn she fell for was still there. Caitlyn in general was very humbled down by the entire situation and she got to really grasp the power behind her privilege and how she affected things for the worse being even worse than Jynx in terms of consequences.

I want to say here, that I think that a lot of people wouldn’t have forgiven Cait, and that is valid. But Vi’s personality is like that. I think she is a person that is forgiving by nature, and she also has done terribly bad mistakes and this is why she forgives her. I know this would be less polemic if they were equals and that the show’s handling of inequality could have been way better. But I still liked it. I think their relationship will always have this inequality element ingrained with it; but the value of it is that they are able to see who each of them are beyond that. Also, I don’t see their relationship perfect after everything ended. I think that they still are going to need a lot of work to build a relationship.

Is sad that they didn’t let the writers of S1 be here as well, because I think that it would have helped to have more opinions of ways that some of the scenes could have been interpreted and dissected, besides the way they intended and I think that very small modifications to all of it would have improved it a lot. Because honestly the base of all of it is pretty solid and I feel that most people grudges about it are for details that feel too much or are out of place.

I feel that fans that defend Cait’s actions are also not ok, because the point of Cait’s arc is that is a dark arc. Characters that make mistakes are the ones that make a good dramatic story about how everyone’s context determine the way they act and how no matter how they try they can’t undo it. This traces back to Season 1 themes as well and is clear it was intended since the start. The execution and delivery are the reasons why it doesn’t work for everyone in my opinion.

for my own sanity, i try to stay away from caitvi discourse, but it’s truly baffling that some people still actively defend caitlyn hitting vi and are "dumbfounded" that it is enough for people to stop shipping them and voice their discontent about their relationship in s2.

one of the most common and dumb defenses i’ve seen is that caitlyn only hit vi once, as if the frequency of the act changes its nature. even a single instance of violence is still violence. highlighting that it happened only once does not negate its significance. it still happened, and it still matters. really, it's simple ...

but the dumbest attempt to defend this moment is comparing caitvi to other ships in arcane, when no other relationship in the series has a similar dynamic. in other pairings that involve physical conflict, both characters fight back or retaliate in some way, whether it’s jinx and ekko, viktor and jayce, or even vander and silco. but caitlyn hitting vi is entirely one-sided. vi does not hit back, and it is not framed as a fight. this moment is not a confrontation between equals but an instance of caitlyn exerting power over vi, someone who has already been through a lot of trauma (years of imprisonment and being beaten by enforcers), which caitlyn is very aware of.

but that’s if you watch arcane as a whole and not just for the relationship, because caitlyn hitting vi is a moment charged with systemic inequality. caitlyn represents the very institution that destroyed vi’s life. when she strikes her, it's not just an individual betrayal, it echoes the violence of an entire system that has oppressed zaunites for generations. it’s impossible to disregard that the historical and social power imbalance makes the scene feel so disturbing if you actually watch the show with your eyes open.

and it’s a major red flag. for caitlyn to hit vi, knowing what she has been through, is not just an act of violence but one that disregards the weight of vi’s suffering. she fails to see vi fully, not just as somebody willing to help her, a potential partner, or a fighter, but as someone wounded by her past.

also, i take back what i said about the dumbest attempt to defend this scene being comparing caitvi to other ships. the dumbest one is when people minimize caitlyn's action by defending the enforcers in general ... because no, the idea that the backlash against caitlyn hitting vi in arcane is simply a matter of an “american lens” is dumb asf. a lot of what's in the show mirrors the kind of systemic violence seen in many parts of the world, not just in the usa. y'all are not exceptional. class struggles, institutionalized oppression, and the abuse of power by those who hold privilege aren't exclusive to america. please wake up. these are themes that transcend national and cultural boundaries. vi’s trauma from imprisonment is not an american experience alone. the psychological and physical toll of being incarcerated is universal. how dumb do you have to be to actually think otherwise?

anyway, even if i don’t like that arcane didn’t frame caitlyn’s action as a serious issue and that it is treated as just another moment in their relationship, the willingness to ignore or rationalize it says more about the fandom’s biases than the actual content of the show imo ...

[queer-reader-07]

i think that the desire for perfection when it comes to activism, organizing, and the like is truly the biggest detriment to progress in the present day. so many people labor under this fantasy that some perfect leader or solution or way of doing things will happen, and in the end we just end up going nowhere.

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<