#bigots leave me alone challenge

[rheakira]

I've come to temporarily break my hiatus to bring up something deeply important. Because after a recent event, if I have to go another day without talking about it, I don't know what I'll do.

Fandoms have an enormous issue when it comes to bigotry and people feeling comfortable enough to be openly bigoted.

And I want to make it clear: everyone is capable of it. In fact, most people do it more often than they don't. But because this strange myth has been built up that if you aren't "blatantly saying slurs" or "killing others" it can't possibly be bigotry, we have done nothing but become dangerous behind closed doors.

If your friend has odd beef with a person of color in the fandom and holds them to standards they don't hold their white friends to, that is bigotry. If your friend feels some sort of way about the trans person in your friend group and tries to come up with reasons for why they specifically can't stay, that is also bigotry. If your group insists that a person with a personality disorder is making it up just for attention and uses that as a reason for why they can't be around them, that is bigotry as well.

I've never been upfront about it because... why do I, as a human being, need to be upfront about my identity when people randomly decide what I am? But I am in fact a person of color who is queer and disabled. Whenever I join a fandom group that is mostly white people, I am liked until this is discovered. And then I watch as people get brutal about things I do or say. Things that they don't do to other people in the group, and I also watch as they take my words and either twist them for convenience or ruin my reputation for it.

As a marginalized person, both in fandom and out, you are held to a unique standard that does not apply to other human beings around you. It makes doing what you love very difficult, because unfortunately as a marginalized person, people will always subconsciously side with the person trying to oppress or attack you. This has happened to me my entire life, from school to work spaces to even internet spaces claiming to be safe places.

People will say that they care about you and like you and even form a friendly bond with you, but the moment a person of privilege decides they do not like you very much, they can and will side with the other person even without proof of their issues with you. It's exhausting and ruins lives in places that should be fun and safe.

I am on my umpteenth experience with this exact cycle and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel like I couldn't live or breath in places I should be allowed to be involved in. It's a very real problem that refuses to end because no one has the courage to challenge it. I am speaking not only on my own experiences, but for the many other people of color or queers or disabled people who simply cannot join these so called "safe spaces" because of our identities conflicting with people who have been taught that we are lesser and not worth love or care.

If this is a problem you face, please know that I see you and I love you. It's hard to keep surviving in a world that wants to hurt you and leaves you abandoned and alone. I want you to know that the world is scary, but we all exist. You should be allowed to experience joy and fun without feeling like you're being suffocated and wanting to die.

You matter. The people around you that make you feel like you don't are nothing by comparison. You matter and I truly hope that we'll one day find each other and become the safe space that we deserve.

The marginalized people in your fandom are more important than your fictional characters and plotlines that you put above us. We're here and we're not leaving. Learn to live with us and protect us.

If we're truly your friends, you would care when your privileged "friends" want to remove us.

Additionally, please do not take this rant and make it only about white people who are part of these marginalized categories. This is a post about EVERYONE. Including the people of color around you. Do not remove us from this conversation. Care about ALL OF US if you support this at all. Thank you.

[karaspal]

you honestly don’t need to like every queer character that exists, and i truly mean it. at the end of the day, if you don’t like them, you have every right to. but you don’t get to say they are bad representation simply because you don’t related to them. not every character will appeal to you, but that doesn’t make them a bad representation. feel free to critique them and their personalities, it’s your right to, but don’t be a jerk about their queerness unless they are falling under a harmful stereotype.

some people take it on the next leave too, and say that a character who isn’t queer in canon is better representation. in what world? you might feel connected to them and see your queerness in their journey, the same thing has happened to me too, but that’s not the same as having a literal queer story. queer characters are there to make you feel seen, but not only that. they are also here to challenge the status quo, to normalise queer people just existing and to make bigots uncomfortable. remember when jon kent was first announced to be bisexual with the cover of him kissing his boyfriend? yeah, a headcanon will never have such reaction.

my point isn’t made to attack people for seeing parts of themselves in “straight / allo / cis” characters. it’s wonderful that you found a character you could relate to and make you feel less alone. it really is. like i said, i see parts of my queer identity in characters who “don’t” have my sexuality too. but don’t put down actual queer representation for characters who have never been confirmed queer. it’s wrong of you to. at the end of the day, these are the characters who actually make the difference.

[feastingonchrist]

Progressive "Christianity" is nothing but Marxism, weaponizing empathy and love, while not even understanding what true love is (ONLY found through the Gospel),watering down the gospel and only preaching half of it, making God into your own image, denying biblical truth and authority along with God's authority, denying Jesus' identity while not being grounded in the one and only identity only found in Jesus Christ - but finding their identity in the world/sin, straight up blaspheming God in some circumstances, not taking sin seriously and even encouraging it (otherwise you're a bigoted, homophobic, transphobe, etc.) and only using scripture when it's convenient to furthering the political agenda which is constantly being updated because it's not rooted in truth; only lies, bullying and manipulation. They have traded THE ONE TRUE GOD for the god of politics, social justice and god of self. I could probably say more but this wasn't scripted and it has been on my mind for a little while today after seeing that straight up joke of a bishop "preaching" in that church while the Trump and Vance families were in attendance.

These are the wolves in sheep's clothing we have been warned about in scripture. It grieves me that these people have invaded and taken over the Church so rapidly and have caused many denominations to split. Look at what they have done to the United Methodist Church... it has split apart because of this. I'm in a Methodist church that used to be UMC until the church split int the GMC because people are fed up with the nonsense. They have also invaded the Presbyterian, Lutheran, Episcopal and Anglican churches, too. They take over our long standing, historical churches that are full of beauty, richness and tradition and make faithful Christ followers want to leave, while force feeding a bunch of political ideology into the ears of the attendants. They still find some sort of value in liturgy and tradition, though, but i do not think they are doing it in any sense of reverence toward God. It seems as though they are only doing it because it looks "nice" and "religious". I mean for goodness sakes, they take COMMUNION in these services... that is a serious offense to Christ. They have no business leading our churches or a new and vulnerable congregation of people who seem to be wanting to come to Christ who are led astray from Him right in the same buildings that we are to be learning about Him and gathering together to worship Him. This is why i say they weaponize empathy and love in the name of tolerance because they bully and manipulate people into bowing down to their god of politics and keep the law of social justice and political correctness and are putting so much confidence in themselves to change the world, which is nothing but idolatry and self glorification. If you go against their beliefs you are a heretical blasphemer who will be sentenced to being canceled and possibly even doxxed. That is not pleasing to God, only their flesh. They are their own gods and they think they can control people and have the authority to tell others what to do and punish them when they don't comply. So whatever they say, think, feel and do is perfectly okay in their eyes and that is why they are so offended when people are pro-life because it challenges their excess needs for control and pleasure. These people are like the blind leading the blind and their souls are headed towards destruction. It really just makes me sick and angry and i really do grieve for these people. They do not take any of this stuff seriously. We have a lot of praying to do for these people and for our Churches. This needs to stop.

So: at what point do we stop calling progressive "Christianity"; "Christianity" and their services "church"? Because at this point it really is just a social and political club. Go find your OWN buildings and leave ours alone. Notice how none of their behavior is bearing any good fruit or Christ-like behavior and attitudes? It's because it's NOT OF GOD. They may read from the Bible and praise His name in service, but it is all empty and meaningless. I really am so fed up over all of it. I pray we can take our churches back and get back to upholding and defending biblical truths and traditions. You cannot rewrite Christianity or change who God is or what the gospel is in the same way that politics keep evolving and expanding because God doesn't change and neither does the truth of His word. Stop calling progressive "Christianity" TRUE CHRISTIANITY because it's NOT AND NEVER WILL BE. Leftist ideology and Christianity will never mix so stop trying to make it happen.

[star55]

Fic: Misfits and Mishaps Chapter Seven

Title: Misfits and Mishaps Author: Star Chapter: Seven/Twelve Word Count: 4,807/47,000+ Pairing: Cait/Vi Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends) Rating: Teen and up Chapter Warnings: bigotry, autistic meltdown depictions, period mentions.

Read on AO3

Chapter Seven

It is easy to fall into being Vi’s girlfriend. Almost nothing changes except they now share kisses whenever the desire arises.

The fluttering in Caitlyn’s stomach stays the same, the warmth at seeing Vi smile at her stays the same. She keeps hanging out at their house after school, and having fun adventures with Powder, who she had just introduced to her family’s shooting range. Powder is a natural – she has impeccable aim and Caitlyn loves showing her the ropes whenever they spend time together.

But her favourite part of all of this, of being Vi’s girlfriend is just being with her. Whether it’s at school, after school, on a weekend, anything it’s just wonderful.

It’s definitely made school better, though. They had been spending a fair amount of time together at school even before now, but now? Now, when she waits for Vi after class, Vi gives her a kiss. Now, when she is walking down the halls with Vi, Vi is holding her hand. Now when she’s in detention for disruptive behaviour (this is a new one), Vi is there.

And Caitlyn loves it.

“Caitlyn,” Cassandra says pretty much the moment she gets home from her after school activities. “How come you’re spending another week in detention?” Her brows are pinched in that way Caitlyn knows her own do when she’s upset.

She sighs and sets her bag down at the entrance to the drawing room before stepping inside to talk to her mother.

“What did Principal Marcus say?” Caitlyn asks, sitting across from her mother.

Cassandra sighs and picks up her phone, playing the voicemail that was left. “Disruptive behaviour, really, Caitlyn?”

“Mr Todd was being a bigot,” Caitlyn says. “He was comparing Zaunites to bugs and so I challenged him on it.”

“…Bugs?” Cassandra repeats. Caitlyn nods.

“He said that some past members of the Council thought of Zaunites like bugs that needed to be exterminated,” she explains, “and then he muttered ‘some of us still think that’. So I called him out on it. I don’t think he expected to be heard.”

Cassandra’s frown deepens. She picks up her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “Regardless of whether or not he expected to have been heard,” she says, still looking at her phone, “he should have never said something like that, let alone in front of students. Leave it with me, dear, I will sort this out.”

She stands swiftly, patting Caitlyn on the shoulder and leaving the room. “Abigail, yes, lovely to hear from you… I want to call an emergency school board meeting…” her voice trails off as she leaves the room. Sometimes Caitlyn loves the power her mother has, especially when it’s being aimed at bigots.

Caitlyn gets up, figuring she can start on her homework when her phone rings in her pocket. She slides it out and reflexively smiles when she sees Vi’s name on her screen.

“I thought you were working this afternoon?” she says by way of greeting.

“Caitlyn?” Powder’s voice asks. She sounds a little upset.

“Powder?”

“Can,” she sniffs. “Can you come over?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Caitlyn replies. She quickly changes out of her school uniform and grabs her bag. She can’t see her mother, so she sends her a quick text before calling for her driver. She’s going to be so relieved when she can get her licence and drive herself places.

It doesn’t take long to get to Vi’s house and she knocks on the door, wondering what could have Powder so upset.

The door cracks open and Powder’s blue eyes appear, then the rest of her. She immediately throws herself in Caitlyn’s arms and Caitlyn teeters for a moment before wrapping her arms around Powder in return.

“Let’s get inside,” she says after a few moments.

“It’s…” Powder sniffs. “It’s a mess.”

“It’s alright,” Caitlyn assures her.

Powder hesitates but then she loosens her hold on Caitlyn enough so they can enter the house. Powder wasn’t wrong, the place is a mess. Which is normal – it’s a house with three teenagers and one pre-pubescent child, it’s bound to be messy. But this is next level. Caitlyn can see things strewn all around – there’s a broken glass visible in the doorway, and if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve said they had been burgled.

“Powder…” she starts. “Are you okay?”

Powder sniffs and nods. “I broke a couple of things.”

“I can see,” Caitlyn replies. “But are you hurt physically? You didn’t step in any of this glass, did you?”

Powder shakes her head. “No.”

“Good,” Caitlyn replies. “Alright, let’s get started on cleaning this up, and then you can tell me what happened, okay?”

Powder nods. They get to work cleaning up the mess. There’s Powder’s artwork all strewn around, pieces ripped up and other pieces balled into wads of paper. There’s a board game upended, its pieces scattered across the floor.

Caitlyn’s pressing concern is getting the glass cleaned up though. She takes charge of that while she asks Powder to clean up anything that can be recycled. When she steps into the kitchen, she sees Vander’s “World’s Best Dad” mug in pieces on the floor. Along with Powder’s favourite mug. They’re the only things broken in here, it seems. Everything else seems to be contained to the living room.

Caitlyn gets to work, making sure that every piece of glass and ceramic is cleaned up. It takes a while but they make quick work of the mess, and when she’s done, she sits on the couch with Powder, who grabs her hand and holds it tightly.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asks, trying to be as gentle as possible. She waits for Powder to open up.

“Today was a bad day,” she starts. She strokes over Caitlyn’s finger nails, flicking the end of the nail a few times before sighing. “Cricket wants to partner with Ekko, because he thinks he’s smarter. And then he said we were boyfriend and girlfriend because we always hung out. But we’re not,” Powder insists emphatically. “I don’t like Ekko like that. I just like doing science experiments with him because he’s also smart.”

Caitlyn nods. Powder’s fingers stop playing with her own and she rests her head against Caitlyn’s shoulder.

“And then Dad wouldn’t let me go to the arcade with Vi for her shift,” Powder continues. “So I stayed here. And then…” she heaves a sigh. “AndthenIgotmyperiod,” she adds in a rush. Caitlyn blinks a few times.

“Your period?” she repeats and feels Powder nodding her head where it rests against her arm. “Do you know about periods?”

Powder nods again. “Vi told me,” she says. “After she got hers. She said you helped her. So I thought you could help me too. But then I couldn’t find Vi’s phone and I just… exploded.”

“We can deal with all of this,” Caitlyn says. “You rang me, so at least you know where Vi’s phone is. We can deal with the period stuff now, too.”

She answers any and all questions Powder has, feeling good for being able to help her through this. They talk about everything as they work to tidy everything else up. Caitlyn orders them some dinner after a while, and then Powder gets sad again.

“I broke Dad’s mug,” she admits. “I… I don’t know why. But it was there and I just broke it.”

“If you explain to Vander how you were feeling, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Caitlyn says. “He’s a pretty great dad. And he loves you. He might be a bit upset, but he’s pretty understanding.”

Powder nods once. “I need to replace it, though. Because I’m the one who broke it.”

“That’s a good plan,” Caitlyn agrees. “But for now, let’s focus on your homework and then have some dinner when it gets here, okay?”

Powder nods. They focus on their respective homework, working in silence at the kitchen table. They stop when their dinner arrives and Powder asks why Caitlyn never offers to cook.

She flushes as she answers, “I don’t know how to cook.”

“Vi can teach you!” Powder offers. “She’s a great cook. Claggor is good, too, but he isn’t as good as Vi is. But he bakes the best cakes. He made my birthday cake!”

Caitlyn’s face warms at that. She likes that Vi can cook. It suits everything she knows about her.

A short while later, the front door opens and both Claggor and Mylo return from work. Mylo is grateful that Caitlyn ordered enough food for everyone else, and immediately loads himself up a plate piled high.

“I didn’t know you were coming over today,” Claggor comments as he also makes himself a plate.

“I was feeling lonely,” Caitlyn replies, shooting Powder a surreptitious wink. She figures that she doesn’t want her meltdown broadcast to her brothers. Powder beams at her in response. “So I thought I’d come and do my homework with Powder.”

“That was nice of you,” Mylo says through a mouthful of food.

The front door opens again a few minutes later and Vi strolls in. Her face lights up when she sees Caitlyn and she makes a beeline for her.

“Cait!” Vi says happily. She slides her arm around Caitlyn’s shoulder, giving her a half hug and kissing the top of her head. “Wait, is this food from Jericho’s?”

Caitlyn nods. “Powder and I got hungry.”

“Good. I’m starving,” Vi says. She grabs a plate and starts loading it up, too. Soon the table is filled with Powder’s siblings all talking over each other, eating all of the food Caitlyn ordered. She glances at Powder who looks happier and calmer than she did earlier.

“I’d better go home,” Caitlyn says after a short while.

“But I just finished work,” Vi says with a pout. “I thought you might hang for a bit?”

Caitlyn bites her lip, feeling weak against the might of Vi’s face. “I’ll stay for a little while longer, then.”

“That’s my cue to get out of here if you’re both going to be doing lesbian activity,” Mylo says, standing.

Vi throws a wadded up napkin at him. “Loser,” she says without malice.

Mylo does finger guns as he walks backwards out of the kitchen.

“C’mon, Powder,” Claggor says, also standing. “I want to see if I can beat your score on Mario Kart.”

Powder perks up and she scrambles up from the table. “I bet you won’t!” she says before following him out of the kitchen.

Vi and Caitlyn make quick work of cleaning everything up, and setting aside Vander’s dinner for him for when he gets home later. Caitlyn knows she should be getting home. Vander doesn’t mind her being here on an evening, but he insists after 8 on a school night is too late. And it’s already after 7 now.

“C’mon,” Vi says softly. She takes Caitlyn’s hand and leads her into the rapidly darkening living room. They sit together on the couch and Vi puts the television on.

“How was your shift?” Caitlyn asks. She tucks her feet up underneath herself and gets comfortable with Vi on the couch.

Vi launches into a tale where she witnessed a couple breaking up over a street racer game. It makes Caitlyn giggle with the animated way Vi talks about it. She leans into Vi’s side and just listens to her talk. They don’t even watch the television, too engrossed in the tale Vi is telling.

“So why are you really here, Cupcake?” Vi asks when she’s finished.

Caitlyn bites her lip, unsure exactly how much to divulge. She figures one of the things that happened Vi will figure out soon, so she goes with that one. “Powder started her period.”

Vi’s face falls. “She’s too little,” she says.

“My mother was eleven,” Caitlyn says, trying to reassure Vi. “She isn’t alone in her age there.”

“I know,” Vi says with a sigh. “I was just hoping she’d be a late bloomer like me.”

“I think she would’ve preferred that,” Caitlyn comments. She shifts her position and stretches. “I really should get going.”

She glances over to find Vi’s gaze watching her movements. Caitlyn’s heart thuds in her chest when she sees the intensity in Vi’s gaze.

“Or not?” she whispers.

Vi shakes her head. “No, stay,” she says.

Caitlyn isn’t sure who moves first, but she’s being pressed back into the couch a moment later, Vi’s lips hot against her own. They haven’t had much time to do this – to kiss and just be together. But Caitlyn is loving this. Vi’s body is warm against her own, her lips soft and perfect. Her tongue is confident in Caitlyn’s mouth, eliciting the softest of gasps from Caitlyn herself.

Vi’s hand is on her hip, sliding upwards. “Can I?” she asks, breaking their kiss. Caitlyn nods. She isn’t sure what Vi wants to do, but she’s willing and eager.

Vi’s hand slides up underneath Caitlyn’s jumper, and underneath her shirt. She gently touches the skin of Caitlyn’s hip, pausing.

“Is this okay?” she asks. Caitlyn nods emphatically and pulls Vi in for another kiss. She wants to touch Vi, too. She wants her hands all over Vi’s back. Suddenly, Vi pulls back and yanks her own jumper up off over her head before meeting Caitlyn’s lips in a searing kiss.

Her hands are hot on Caitlyn’s body, inching upwards until Caitlyn just grabs Vi’s hand and puts it on her boob over her jumper. She figures Vi’s brain short circuits when she freezes for a moment. But she’s kissing Caitlyn again a second later with renewed vigour.

Caitlyn slides her own hands up the back of Vi’s shirt, feeling her smooth skin. She hasn’t ever felt like this before. Hasn’t ever kissed anyone before, so this is all new to her. She knows Vi has hooked up with plenty of girls in the past, and she tries not to get jealous over that, but sometimes her brain fixates on it.

She knows she should be thankful for it – that Vi is the one taking control, the one that knows what she’s doing, because Caitlyn doesn’t have a clue.

She takes one hand out from under Vi’s shirt and slides it into Vi’s hair, just needing to touch her as much as possible.

Vi’s fingers stroke upwards underneath her clothes, and she pulls back when she realises that Caitlyn isn’t wearing a bra. Caitlyn takes Vi’s hand and puts it back on her boob. She arches into Vi’s touch as Vi’s thumb swipes over her nipple.

“Cupcake,” Vi breathes. Caitlyn pulls her even closer.

The front door opens and shuts rather loudly, shattering the moment between them. Vi pokes her head up over the side of the couch, and her face pales a little.

“Uh, hi, Dad,” she says, scrambling up off Caitlyn.

“Hi, Vi,” he says. Caitlyn licks her lips and resolutely stays where she is. She doesn’t want Vi’s dad to see her like this. She doesn’t get that wish, however, when the next words out of his mouth are, “hi, Caitlyn.”

“Uh, hi, Vander,” she squeaks. “Um, there’s dinner in the fridge.”

Vi shoots her an incredulous look and Caitlyn covers her face with her hands. Vander’s chuckle floats through the room as he says his thanks.

“C’mon you two, it’s a school night,” Vander says. “Time for Caitlyn to get home.”

Caitlyn nods, even though Vander can’t see her, and she gently pushes Vi off her lap.

“I’ll walk you out,” Vi says.

Caitlyn texts her driver as she grabs her things. Vi walks her to the door, stopping just before opening it to kiss her a few more times.

“Thanks for being there for Powder,” she says, resting her forehead against Caitlyn’s own.

“I’m happy to be,” she replies. “But, um, something happened today with Powder that confirmed what I’ve been thinking for a while.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Vi asks. Her hand is soft still on Caitlyn’s hip, grounding her in ways that Vi probably doesn’t even realise helps.

“I think you should talk to Vander about getting Powder an autistic diagnosis.”

Vi blinks. “Yeah?” she asks. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I can do that.” She nods and then kisses Caitlyn again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Caitlyn smiles and kisses her once more. “See you tomorrow.”

~*~

The Saturday is Vi’s birthday and Caitlyn wakes up excited.

The rest of the week had been pretty normal – her mother had dominated at the emergency school board meeting towards the end of the week, to which Caitlyn and Vi had both witnessed her in action, and it resulted in Mr Todd being suspended without pay while the claims were looked into. Not the best outcome, but one that was reasonable, Caitlyn thought. At least he couldn’t bully any more students while he was on leave.

She just hopes that it makes other teachers, and other students, think twice before vocally sharing their bigoted opinions.

Vi’s birthday party isn’t until later – it’s at The Last Drop, which Vander has closed for the night to outside patrons. Caitlyn is looking forward to the evening. It’s definitely preferable to attending the Council Solstice party with her parents, that’s for certain.

Thankfully the school term is also over, which gives Caitlyn plenty of time to spend with Vi when she isn’t working. Caitlyn hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the other night on Vi’s couch when Vi touched her boob. She finds herself wondering what would have happened if Vander hadn’t come home when he did.

Probably not a lot, she thinks. Especially as Vi’s siblings were all in the house, and any of them could have walked in at any moment. But it doesn’t stop Caitlyn from wanting.

After spending the morning with her parents, Caitlyn’s driver makes the short drive to Vi’s place. She wants to get there early to help set up, and to spend as much time with Vi as possible. She loves how close they’re getting. And not just physically. They text every day, and it’s nice that Vi now has her own phone so their conversations can remain somewhat private.

She doesn’t even have a chance to knock on Vi’s front door before it’s opening and Powder’s smiling face looks up at her.

“Cait!” she exclaims happily. She gives Caitlyn a massive hug and then drags her inside, holding her hand tightly. “You can help me do my makeup.”

“Okay,” Caitlyn agrees. “But can I see Vi first?”

“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen with Dad.”

The scene Caitlyn comes across when they enter the kitchen is heartwarming. Vi is giving Vander a massive hug and he’s resting his cheek on top of her head. It warms Caitlyn’s heart to see.

“Now,” Vander says as he pulls back to look at Vi. “This is a huge responsibility. But I trust you, okay?”

Vi nods emphatically. Caitlyn can see her smile from here, and she knows whatever it is that just happened is good.

“What’s going on?” Powder asks, coming up to Vi’s other side. Vi immediately pulls her sister in for a side hug.

“Dad got me a car,” she says. Powder squeals in excitement.

“Does that mean you can take me to school?”

“Yeah, kiddo, it does,” Vander says. “And Mylo and Claggor.”

“Yes!” Powder says, pumping her fists in the air. “Oh, Cait is here, too.”

Vi’s head whips around. “Cupcake!” she exclaims happily. She loosens her grip on Powder and crosses the room to her. Caitlyn isn’t expecting the big, smacking kiss Vi places on her lips – especially in front of her father – but she does.

“Happy birthday,” Caitlyn breathes when they part. Vi’s smile is beautiful and Caitlyn wants to stare at it forever.

“Dad got me a car,” she whispers, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“I heard,” Caitlyn replies. “I’m sorry to say that my present pales in comparison.”

Vi snort laughs and pulls Caitlyn in for a hug.

“Can we go for a drive then?” Vi asks, turning to look at her dad. He looks up at the clock on the wall.

“You have one hour,” he says. “But then we need to finish setting up for the afternoon. Sevika won’t be happy if she has to do everything herself.”

“We won’t be late, I promise,” Vi says. She slides her hand into Caitlyn’s, lacing their fingers together. “C’mon, Pow, let’s go get ice cream.”

“Yes!” Powder says cheerily. She grabs Vi’s other hand and they all make their way back out of the house but through the garage. Parked next to Vander’s huge vehicle is a smaller, four door hatchback in a bright red colour. It’s not a brand new car, but it’s clearly been well looked after, Caitlyn notices as Vi presses a button to unlock the doors.

Powder immediately goes to get in the front.

“Nope,” Vi says, “kids go in the back.”

“But Vi,” Powder whines, looking up at her with big eyes. “I’m tall enough to sit in the front!”

Vi looks visibly conflicted.

“Can I sit in the front on the way back then?” she asks diplomatically.

The sisters both look at her and Powder starts nodding hopefully. Before Vi can answer, she quickly slips into the front passenger seat and buckles herself in, giving them both a wide, innocent smile.

“Looks like you’re in the backseat, Cupcake,” Vi says apologetically.

Caitlyn just smiles and shrugs. “Figure I might as well get used to it,” she says low enough that Powder can’t hear her. “I’m hoping to spend some quality time back there in the near future.” She gives Vi a purposeful look before climbing into the back seat. She can see the slightly stunned look on Vi’s face before she’s getting into the driver’s seat.

“Alright,” Vi says, clearing her throat. “Time for birthday ice cream.”

Powder starts wiggling in her seat. “Birthday ice cream! Birthday ice cream!” she repeats happily.

Caitlyn suggests an ice cream parlour in Piltover, as a birthday treat, but it’s mostly so that Vi can keep driving.

When Vi had told her weeks ago that Vander had taught her how to drive at a young age, Caitlyn still expected her to be a bit rusty, but she’s fantastic at it. Caitlyn relaxes as Vi drives, taking in the sights, and Powder’s exited chatter. Every now and then, Vi catches her eye in the rearview mirror and smiles and it makes Caitlyn’s stomach flutter pleasantly.

Once they have their ice creams, they quickly get back into the warm car to enjoy them. Caitlyn automatically gets into the backseat, figuring Powder won’t mind being in the front for both legs of the journey.

When they get back to Vi’s house, she purposefully stays in the backseat, telling Powder to go ahead. She gives Vi a pointed look that has Vi scrambling to join her in the backseat.

“Hi,” she says, cupping Vi’s face with her hands before kissing her soundly. Vi moans softly into her mouth, one of her hands going to the back of Caitlyn’s neck, holding her close.

“As you can see,” Caitlyn whispers, trailing kisses down Vi’s jaw. “There’s plenty of room back here.”

Vi makes a strangled sound and pulls back, her lips shining and her eyes wide. “Cupcake, you’re killing me.”

Caitlyn smiles at her. “Just want you to know what page I’m on.”

Vi nods. “Same page, definitely the same page.”

“Good,” Caitlyn replies. She captures Vi’s lips in another kiss but then pulls away just as quickly. “Because I can’t stop thinking about doing more than just touching each other’s boobs.”

Vi’s eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, same. Okay, good, we’re on the same page. Now kiss me again, it’s my birthday.”

Caitlyn grins and does just that. Vi’s hands immediately start sliding up underneath her jumper and shirt, making the fabric bunch up around her middle. Caitlyn huffs a laugh and takes the jumper off.

“You’re not wearing a bra?” Vi whispers.

Caitlyn nods. “Very observant of you,” she replies, dipping her head to kiss Vi again.

“But you wear a bra to school?”

Caitlyn pulls back a little. “I wear one to school and official Council obligations only,” she explains. “It’s a sensory thing. And since my boobs are small enough to get away with it, I don’t wear one if I don’t have to.”

Vi’s hands slide up even higher, her rough fingers making Caitlyn shiver. “I’m all for you never wearing a bra again, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn smiles at her. “I’ll try never wear one in your presence,” she says. “Especially if I get this reaction.” Vi whines low in her throat and surges forwards, capturing Caitlyn’s lips in another kiss.

Caitlyn falls into Vi’s embrace, gently guiding Vi’s hand to her breast once more. She gasps into Vi’s mouth as Vi’s thumb rubs over her nipple and she presses harder into Vi’s touch.

She has no idea how much time passes, too caught up in Vi’s soft sounds and her even softer lips. Somewhere along the line, she’s shifted so she’s straddling Vi and Vi’s hands are cupping her ass and it all feels so good.

Then there’s a noise that breaks them apart.

“C’mon you two,” a female voice says. “Powder came back inside almost twenty minutes ago.”

Vi licks her lips and in her lust filled haze, Caitlyn’s eyes follow the movement. “C’mon, Cupcake,” she says, patting her on the bum. “We’ve got things to do.”

Caitlyn extracts herself from Vi’s embrace and manages to gracefully climb out of the car. Vi, on the other hand, isn’t as fortunate, and she all but stumbles out behind Caitlyn, tripping over her own feet.

Caitlyn glances at their intruder and nods once at her. “You must be Sevika.”

Sevika smirks. “And you must be the girlfriend. Mel and Vi have told me a lot about you.”

Caitlyn can’t pick her tone, so she just keeps eye contact with her.

“Sorry, Sevika,” Vi says, “we lost track of time.”

“Clearly,” Sevika replies. “C’mon, you need to help me set up.”

Vi nods. She glances back at Caitlyn once before taking her hand and leading them inside the house. Thankfully Vander isn’t anywhere to be seen, and when Vi leaves Caitlyn to go help Sevika, she sees Mel and Powder sitting in the living room, Powder painting Mel’s nails a beautiful gold colour.

She joins them, sitting down in an arm chair. Mel smiles warmly at her, and then gestures to her own hair, which Caitlyn takes the hint. She takes her hair out of its ponytail and shakes it free before tying it back up. Vi’s hands had made their way into her hair quite a few times. Caitlyn’s body tingles thinking of it.

When Powder disappears to get changed for the party, Caitlyn joins Mel on the couch.

“I’m glad things are working out for you and Vi,” Mel says. “You seem happy.”

Caitlyn nods. “I am,” she agrees. “Did you know? About me, I mean?”

Mel nods once. “I’ve grown up around queer people, and especially queer women my whole life. There’s an abundance of us in Noxus, which is great for any exploring teen.” She shoots Caitlyn a wink as she says this. “Some people you can tell straight away – like Vi and Sevika. Butch beauties are also in abundance in Noxus. But when I met you, you were little. Not as young as when Jayce met you, but you never had any time for boys and their ‘nonsense’ as you would say.”

“I just thought it’s because I’m autistic,” Caitlyn comments.

Mel chuckles. “That too,” she agrees. “But when you were seven, one of my younger cousins from Noxus visited. Freja – do you remember her?”

Caitlyn blinks and casts her mind back. She hasn’t thought about Freja in years. But she remembers being obsessed with her. She thought it was because they had the same shared interests.

“Whenever anyone else would want to play with her, you’d get so put out,” Mel continues. “You were so jealous, even back then. But it was cute the way kids are. It was then that I knew you were one of us.”

Caitlyn flushes. “Thank you,” she says. “It’s nice knowing I’m not alone.”

“Far from it, Caitlyn,” Mel says. “There are more of us than you realise. And besides, with the way Vi was looking at you at Powder’s party, I’m glad you figured yourself out so you can be with her. Love looks good on you.”

Love, Caitlyn repeats in her mind. She’s still only fifteen, can it really be love already?

But the tingling in her stomach and the fluttering of her heart whenever she sees Vi says yes, yes it can be.

[treadmilltreats]

I challenge you to become better

Yesterday morning, while I was getting dressed, I heard Marvin Gaye's song "What's going on…

It goes on to say:

"Father, father

We don't need to escalate

You see, war is not the answer

For only love can conquer hate.

You know we've got to find a way to bring some lovin' here today, oh oh oh oh

Picket lines and picket signs

Don't punish me with brutality

Talk to me so you can see

Oh, what's going on? "

I started to cry because I remember this song in the late 60s, and here we are in 2024, still dealing with these same issues. I am so sad. I am sad for the world we are living in, for a world that I will be leaving for my girls.

I am sad that we haven't learned anything in 50 years.

I am sad because why can't we see that we are all human beings and we all should have the same rights.

I am sad because we all bleed the same color. We all want a better life for our children and that we are all God's children.

But I realized that I can only change my part in this. I am only in control of what I say and what I post. So I asked myself what do I want my girls to hear me say, what do I want my readers to hear from me?

I don't want to be part of the problem, I want to be part of the solution. So how can I do that? I prayed because I needed to find the answer, and it came to me, I realized that the song is it…. Only love can conquer hate…

Only love can conquer hate…

So I have decided from here on out that I will only post about the good stuff, acts of kindness, compassion, and love.

And I challenge all of you…

I know so many of you have done stupid challenges in the past, but this one can change the world.

Let's flood social media with this, people helping people, all races united, random acts of kindness.

Let's put out pictures of people standing together. Police officers doing good deeds, children of all races playing together just like in Martin Luther King's dream.

I will no longer be part of the problem. I will not keep pushing hatred on to one another. I will no longer finger point. Instead, I will love. I will not delete the bigots and racists I've realized I know, some of which are my own family members. No, I will keep them on my social media pages so that they can see what love looks like and what true compassion for another human being feels like.

I will not argue when others call me names, I will just keep flooding my pages with love.

Now some of you might laugh and say what's going to change… your one person, that's nothing.

So I will kindly remind you that Rosa Parks was one person, that Martin Luther King was one person and the countless others that were alone in the fight for righteousness, and yet they changed the world.

So today, my friends, I challenge you to make a difference, to change, to love, not hate. I will leave you with this, these amazing words of change from people who have done it.

Compassion is the radicalism of our time.–

The Dalai Lama

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.–

Mahatma Gandhi

We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.– Martin Luther King Jr.

Let us remember: One book, one pen, one child, and one teacher can change the world.– Malala Yousafzai

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.– Margaret Mead

And like I always tell you at the end of every blog..."Be the change you want to see,"

@TreadmillTreats. Check out my daily blogs @ https://treadmilltreats.blogspot.com/?m=1

Www.treadmilltreats.com

**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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[rjalker]

hey autistic transphobes, stop being transphobic. Just because you are autistic does not mean you get to speak for all autistic people. If other autistic people say being autistic affects how they understand or view gender, you don't get to fucking say they're being ableist for literally just describing their own experiences.

Your experiences are not fucking universal.

Just because you do not struggle to understand gender and don't feel like your being autistic affects or impacts your gender does not mean you get to shit on other autistic people and being ableist as shit.

Just because you're autistic does not mean you get to be fucking transphobic.

Just because you're autistic does not mean you get to fucking be ableist as shit to other autistic people and tell them their experiences aren't real.

Shut the fuck up and leave other people alone. Autistic people are not being ableist by describing their own experiences with being autistic and being trans. You're just an ableist transphobic peice of shit.

If you think you're going to argue with me on this post and say autistic people don't do this, or I'm just making things up to be mad about, fuck off because if you do you're literally just being blocked and reported.

Autistic people stop fucking being transphobic and ableist challenge.

You can reblog this even if you aren't autistic or trans. I'm tired of other autistic people being bigots and no one calling them out.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

@jilytoberfest microfic prompts & 31 prompts…

Prompts #1-4

Prompts 5 (climb) & 6 (“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?”)

“Good evening, er, Mr Black. How kind of you to call in for a… chat. A problem, you say? May I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked, periwinkle eyes curious as he reached over for the sweets. “Lemon sherbet?”

Sirius Black shook his head.

“A problem. Of the very irritating, long-standing variety. And I know how to fix it!”

“I see,” the old man’s eyes twinkled, and Sirius noted how simultaneously amused and shrewd they could look.

“Yes. Well, the fact is that Evans and Potter have been mad about each other for ages, at least for all of 6th year and frankly, I’m sick of it. I know you are too. Lost a bet with Flitwick in April, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore stared at him.

“Flitwick pays me a retention fee to keep him updated on their progress. I was able to appraise him of the fact that diddly squat had changed since March, February, Christmas - you get my drift,” Sirius said.

The fact that the professors had a betting pool which included among other things - whether the marauders would successfully pull off a splendid prank without getting caught, whether Hagrid managed to find a new dangerous beast to befriend, or whether his stupid friends managed to get a life and start dating - wasn’t that surprising. It just proved to him that most grown ups led extremely boring and unstimulating existences.

Mind you, those were more or less the kinds of pointless things they themselves bet on - Peter had won a galleon last week for betting Dumbledore would buy a new pair of roller skates before the NEWTs started. And he had won two galleons for betting that David Bowie would climb to number one in the muggle charts and that Evans and Diggory would be toast before the Equinox (so what if he’d had a hand in the ending of that blight of a relationship? Evans had been telling MacDonald that she wanted to break it off in a gentle manner before he’d gotten involved. He had simply speeded the whole train wreck…)

“Anyway, the fact is, you need to make Prongs Head Boy next year,” he finished triumphantly.

“I see.”

“Yes, it’s very simple. Evans is definitely going to be Head Girl, correct?”

Dumbledore hesitated.

“Don’t even bother denying it, Sir, professor Slughorn told us last week. She’s outstanding.”

“Yes, um, that may be correct,” the headmaster replied cautiously.

Of course Slughorn had said no such thing.

“Excellent,” Sirius grinned. “But as for Head Boy… there’s no obvious candidate, is there?”

Dumbledore regarded him silently.

“I mean, you and I both know Remus Lupin would be a great Head Boy, but you’d never risk giving it to him. Plus he’d hate all the attention and he’d be terrified someone would find out about his furry little problem, and he’d feel too guilty having someone else do his duties on full moons and all that.”

He stopped. Dumbledore hummed in possible agreement.

“The Slytherins this year are all a bunch of Voldy-supporting, bigoted wankers - no offence intended,” he said, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Dumbledore raised his palms and shrugged.

“Ha! The Ravenclaw chaps this year are all far too introverted to want to boss everyone about. The only good candidate in Hufflepuff is Diggory,” he grimaced. “And frankly that chap is far too irritating, he already got hexed through the Veil and back on five occasions so far this year. If he makes Head Boy, he’s screwed.”

Dumbledore looked glum.

“Which leaves Gryffindor. What you need is a strong, well liked character you can rely on. Someone who knows how to lead and is experienced in managing a team under difficult circumstances. Someone who is a pureblood- those bastards would throw a fit if one muggleborn head girl is appointed, let alone another less than thoroughly inbred fellow - yet somehow manages to hate bigotry and has a record of standing up against mini Death Eaters in this school.

Someone with positivity coming out of his arse. The type who sees a thunderstorm and starts talking about the benefits of a cold shower. You know, sees the best in all his fellow students despite being surprisingly and unexpectedly intelligent to boot? The sort of chap who is always looking for solutions, tenacity to beat the band, and gives most people third chances and whatnot. And yet, unbelievably, is practically universally well liked and respected. At least half of the wankers who dislike him still fancy him rotten. Which only leaves the usual suspects - and frankly, you and I both know that if you appointed someone they approved of, we’d all be screwed.”

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, hands steepled in front of him.

“You really think he’d be Head Boy material?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yes. He’d hate it. And so would I. But he’d do a damned good job of it.”

“When I mentioned Mr Potter as a possible option, Professor McGonagall expressed grave concern about the amount of pressure he’d be under, were he to retain the title of Gryffindor Quidd- “

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sir, you’d have to pry the Gryffindor Quidditch Captaincy from his cold dead hands.”

“On that, I do agree with you, Mr Black.”

“Of course you do, you’re not an idiot, unlike bloody Prongs,” Sirius sniffed.

“Hmm, I’m not sure we want an idiot as Head Boy,” Dumbledore mused, leaning forward.

“Well of course not, frightfully irritating. I’m ready to hex his ball- ballast off! But if they get to be Heads together? I guarantee the best working relationship of any Head Persons in the past fifty years, plus a top tip in your betting pool… situation.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.

“Top tip?”

“Life hack,” Sirius nodded, hand outstretched. “Do we have deal, Sir?”

Dumbledore leant back into his armchair and smiled benevolently.

“I had, of course, been planning on giving Mr Potter that role since he managed to fight off your cousin Bellatrix’s rather dangerous attack on students in Hogsmeade in April. Do you think you could also pass on a few useful tips concerning Hagrid’s latest furry friends?”

Wiley bastard.

“Consider it done, Sir.”

Dumbledore stood and shook his hand.

“And what about you, Mr Black - you don’t fancy the role of Head Boy yourself, do- “

“Haha! Godric’s gonads, no way in hell!” Sirius snorted aloud. “Dealing with horse manure from all sorts of shady bastards and always resisting the urge to hex them all? Attempting civil conversations with the likes of Snape? Mulciber? Wilkes? I’d rather eat Hippogrif dung with raw billywig maggots, er, no offence, Sir.”

“None taken, Mr Black, none whatsoever,” the Professor replied mildly. “Some celebratory ice-cream, perhaps?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The door closed behind him with a jaunty slam.

“Yessssss! Operation Smitten Idiots is a go!” Sirius punched the air with his fist and grinned in elated triumph. “They better fucking name me best man AND godfather to their first born, or there shall be war!”

“What are you on about, Padfoot?” the most idiotic half of the Smitten Duo asked as he rounded the corner, ice-cream cone in his hand.

“Abraxan racing results, Prongs, Best Man came first.” he said, winking at Remus, licking the chocolate and raspberry ripple.

Remus stared at him (mind you, Remus was very partial to chocolate, so that was the most obvious reason why he’d stare at his lips, wasn’t it?).

“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?” Remus asked, clearing his throat.

“I merely entertained our Headmaster with witty conversation and he felt obliged to give me ice cream by way of thanks.”

“Good news, then? Do we get an extra day off for Merpeople National Feast Day, or whatever barmy idea you came up with?” Prongs asked, pushing himself off the wall with his foot.

“Don’t be ridiculous, old chap.”

“Well why are you looking so pleased with yourself then?” His best friend rolled his eyes and scuffed his shoe against the stone pavement.

“Top secret, Prongs my deer, top secret!”

[gotnofucks]

Colour Me Red

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your boss is chasing you like the proverbial hound of hell, and one vibrant shade of red is going to be his undoing, and yours.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Oral sex, allusions to smut, suggestive talking, kinda workplace harassment but not really, boss and employee relationship, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is for my jaan Lexi’s 700 Challenge. Congratulations baby girl @bluemusickid​ , you deserve this and so so much more. Every day I live in awe of you and can only love you more. I’ve chosen the colour Red for this challenge.

Most people arrived at work early to impress their boss. You came early to avoid yours. Every morning was a race to dress up faster so that you could be out before he pulled up at your place to give you a ride. When you’d started working at the Avengers Compound, you thought your biggest problem would be alien attacks or spontaneous combustion. Yet, here you were, being pursued by your boss who was the very embodiment of the hounds of hell.

Captain Steve Rogers, for all his brilliance, was a man unaccustomed to being told no. At one word from him, agents would run in the field and fight a battle of their lives. He was respected and revered, his beautiful visage both an endearing and terrifying symbol. However, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone.

The first time you’d met him, Steve had taken one look at you and said, “I am going to fuck you”. You had gaped at him in disbelief, wondering if this was the true Captain America. You had almost gone back home, intent on finding another job but you needed the money and well, there were so many others around, how often would your paths cross with him?

Turns out, a lot. You had applied for the PR secretary position for Natasha, so imagine your surprise when you showed up for work and were told that you’ll be working for Steve Rogers. In retrospect, you should have quit that day, but the pay was far too good. You had ignored sleazy men before, how difficult could it be to ignore Steve’s advances?

From the very first day, Steve didn’t bother to hide his interest. He offered you a seat in his office, but only after you pointedly ignored his offer to sit on his lap. He had rolled his eyes playfully, explaining your role and duties before dismissing you.

“Walk slow, I want to have a good view of that ass.”

Months later now, you could say it was a well-versed routine. He would flirt with you and you’d kindly remind him about appropriate workplace practices. He would bring you flowers, and you’d pass it on to the old lady who sat behind the reception. You almost wanted to thank him, for it was because of him you’d become a pro at running in high heels.

Arranging your documents, you waited for Steve to arrive. He won’t be happy knowing he has a press conference today. You’d typed out his speech, he only needed to say it into the camera without looking constipated.

“You evaded me again today.” Steve greeted you, entering and taking his seat behind his desk. You met his eyes, unimpressed. He never gave up, did he?

“Good morning Captain Rogers.” You said with a smile, handing him the papers that he took with a wince.

“You don’t call me Captain Rogers in my dreams.” He casually said, going over the planned interview. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him the best you could. It would be a lie to say you didn’t find Steve attractive, but you were not about to sleep with your boss.

“Can you please stick to the script this time and not call the government a piece of shit organization who are greedy, racist, bigots?” You asked, not wanting another disaster management situation on your hands.

“Spot me the lie darling.” Steve said, smiling. He threw the papers on the desk, leaning back to look at you with a fond look in his eyes. “You need to let me drive you here someday. Or I’m gonna camp outside your house so you can’t run away.”

You flush, averting your gaze. God, why did he need to be so beautiful with such gorgeous eyes?

“Can you give it a rest until the press conference? I have a lot on my hands.” You said, rubbing your temples tiredly. Steve frowned, his eyes lingering over the dark circles under your eyes before getting up and coming around the desk to stand behind you, his large hands gently taking your shoulders and kneading. A soft moan escaped you, your bunched muscles relaxing under his touch.

You leaned back farther, your head meeting his firm stomach. His fingers splayed over your collarbones, heal of the hand pressing into the soft juncture where your neck met the shoulder. Groaning, you relaxed yourself, letting Steve massage the stiffness out of your body. Slowly, he leaned down, mouth right next to your ear.

“Imagine the kind of sounds you’ll make when you’re under me.” He breathed, pressing the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your eyes widened and you shot up, putting some distance between you. Steve grinned, taking in your labored breath with interest.

“Captain Rogers” You warned, taking a step back when he took one towards you.

“Say my name.” He demanded, walking purposely towards you until you crashed against the wall. Leisurely closing the distance between you both, he caged you with his hands, leaning in close. You gulped as he got into your space, his breath fanning over your heated cheeks and eyes turning liquid.

“This is inappropriate.” You said, blinking and looking away. You were scared his super senses would smell the arousal pooling between your thighs, warming your core. Steve chuckled, dipping his head as if to kiss you but stopping short.

“I’ll let it go today, since you’ll be screaming it soon enough. Why don’t you go and edit the speech, hmm? I want that part about thanking the government for their cooperation struck.” He smelled like sin, the musky aftershave he always wore clinging to your pores and infusing in your scent.

Smiling a little at the deer caught in the headlights look in your eyes, Steve pushed away from you and flicked your forehead playfully. He turned and walked back to his desk, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as your stumbled out of his office after hastily collecting your papers. Every time you thought you’d gotten used to his advances, Steve would reduce you to a bundle of nerves with a few well chosen words.

Persistent little fucker.

If he didn’t show up in five more minutes, you’ll have a coronary. The reporters were already waiting for him, and you still needed to debrief Steve about the changes you had made. Left to his own devices, he’d unapologetically curse the government out and call out their crap with Bucky and Sam cheering from the sidelines. Again. That had been a nightmare.

“Where is he?” Jacob asked. He looked frazzled, looking worriedly at Tony from across the room. His boss was just as likely as yours to cause a scandal during a press conference and when they sat together, a shit storm was definitely on its way.

“I have no fucking idea!” You swore, running a hand through your hair and hoping your makeup hadn’t run off. You’d be sitting at the podium beside Steve, ready to kick his shin at the first moment he went off script. Jacob shot you a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, his hairline glittering with sweat.

“One day I’ll quit this job and be a professional troll just to roast these assholes. Oh god, where the hell is he?” You bemoaned.

“Right here.”

You turn around, finding Steve striding towards you. The frustration in your eyes melted as you looked him over, the crisp navy blue suit fitting his body in a way that saliva pooled under your tongue. Shaking your head, you wagged a finger at him, trying your best to give him an angry frown instead of fuck me eyes.

“You’re the reason I’ll get greys so early in my life.” You scolded. Steve, however, lost his smirk. His eyes were trained hard on you, eyebrows turning in as if deeply disappointed. When his eyes met yours, you unconsciously stepped back and stumbled into Jacob. You knew Steve had a temper, but that anger had never been directed so harshly at you before.

“What the fuck?” He hissed from between clenched teeth. You blinked in surprise, completely at a loss of words about why he was suddenly so angry. You exchanged a bemused look with Jacob who was inching away from you, eager to be out of sight of the fire that was so obviously burning in the captain’s eyes.

Gulping nervously, you peered at him and cleared your throat. “Captain Rogers?” Your voice was soft and confused, and yet it only seemed to incense Steve more. He made a deep rumbling sound in his chest before grabbing you by your arm and pulling you away with him. You protested, trying to steer him back towards the conference but you were no match for his strength. He remained silent as you tried to loosen his grip on your arm, alarm evident in your voice at this unexpected aggression.

He brough you back to his office, pushing you in before he shut the door with a loud bang that would be sure to scare off anyone who might have wanted to step in and save you. Facing him in bewilderment, you opened your mouth to ask him what the fuck had gotten into him when he raised a hand in warning.

“If I hear ‘Captain Rogers’ pass one more time from your lips, I’ll shut you up in a way that will leave your throat sore for days.” He growled. Your breath hitched, fear and thrill spreading like venom through your blood as he prowled towards you, completely masculine and yet feline in his approach. Your legs refused to follow your command to move away and stayed rooted to their spot, trembling when Steve was standing right before you.

“Say my name.” He whispered. You licked your lips, eyes locked with his as his name passed your lips for the first time ever.

“Steve”

It was barely audible and yet you could see the shiver that ran down Steve’s body, a victorious growl expelled from his throat and suddenly you were pulled flush to his chest, his lips enveloping yours and branding a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders to keep steady on your legs that had turned to jelly.

“You dare,” Steve said, pulling away to glare at you, “you dare wear that shade of sin on your mouth in front of the world?”

It took you a moment, brain still in shock from the intimate embrace you’d just came out from when you registered what he said. Taking in his words along with the red that bled from your mouth to his, you sputtered in indignation.

“Did you drag me in here because I wore a red lipstick?!” You asked, slapping his chest to push him away. Steve, unhappy with your ire, pulled you closer still and slowly traced the curve of your bottom lip, pulling back his thumb to show you your lipstick that sat in stark contrast to his pale skin.

“My girl doesn’t go out looking like this in front of the world.” He countered. You scowled, twisting in his hold so you could knock some sense into the sexist bastard.

“I won’t be policed by somebody who regularly wear three sizes too small t-shirts to fuck with my ovulation cycle deliberately. And what the fuck does it mean ‘looking like this’? What do I look like to you Captain Rogers?” You sassed, breathing heavily.

Steve fisted your chair, tilting your head back as he possessively ran his nose down your neck and sniffed appetitively. “Looking like this, like the forbidden fruit that caused man to fall. You are already my undoing, do you wish to cause a war looking as tempting as this?”

Anger that had boiled in your gut disappeared as if doused by water. Maybe you were still pissed at being treated this way, but the heat that simmered deep in your bones overpowered it. His words set your heart on fire, a raging desire you rarely let yourself feel near him sending you straight into his arms, your head buried in his massive chest that cradled you close. Oh so close.

“There are ten different things I have to say to you about what just happened here, but I’ll do it later when my sanity has returned to me.” You said and Steve chuckled, his arms around you strong like boulders.

“If my kisses alone drove you insane, you’ll be a puddle of dumb mess after I’m done with you.” He huskily whispered in your ear and your core pulsed, a warm gush flooding your panties. This man would be the death of you. For months you’d fought the urge to let him fuck you on his desk and in the elevator, trying your best to overlook this eye fucks and flirting only to end up in his arms, right where he had prophesized you belong the moment he clapped eyes on you.

You didn’t believe in destiny, but then again Steve Rogers didn’t need a divine force to interfere on his behalf to get him what he wants. This moment had been building for a while now, like a volcano threatening to erupt until it finally did, encasing those close to it in scalding layers of passion and sin and love.

“I love this shade but just this once, I’ll make an exception. I’ll wipe it off.” You conceded. This was not you accepting defeat, just a compromise. There was much left to talk about and discuss, but you had a hoard of reporters waiting for the good captain to make his big speech.

You reached for the napkins on his desk, intent in quickly wiping your lipstick off when Steve grabbed you to himself again, cupping your face.

“Oh no honey, that trace of desire won’t stain a piece of paper. The only place its going to be is smeared on my cock. On your knees.” He ordered, very much like he did on the field. And yet, the order was as much a request. You could say no and drag him to the conference right now with no consequences. He was the same man who came by every morning to give you a ride despite knowing you’d already have left. He was the same man who cheekily rolled his eyes when you snubbed his affections, and yet never said a mean word to you. What would it feel like, marking this exemplary man with your colour, knowing as he walked that he was coloured in you?

You sank to the floor, hands already working to free his cock from the confines of his pants. Steve looked at you, letting you do everything, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Peering up at him, you marveled at the fact that it took so long to have you here like this.

“You could launch a thousand ships even on your knees.” He said.

Your lips pressed against the head of his cock, kissing him delicately. Steve jerked at the first touch, digging his fingers in your flesh when you licked him from head to base, suckling lightly, teasingly. You adored the noises that escaped him, loving that he didn’t even think of hiding them from you. When it came to desire, Steve Rogers didn’t mince his words.

His cock was beautiful, silken and hard in your fist and on your tongue. He tasted like the sea after a storm, salty and electric, dangerous and beautiful. Loving him this way came easy, and though you hadn’t had much experience with cocks as big as his, you were determined to show him your feelings with a gusto. Running your tongue along his slit with an impish grin, you swallowed him deep, humming to send vibrations up his length. Had your mouth not been stretched around him, you would have smiled wide at the curse he just yelled.

Picking up your pace, you bobbed your head and rolled his balls, getting high on his taste and sounds as he came undone in your mouth, spilling his essence that went thickly down your throat and ended with a moan from both of you. Pulling away, you saw his member streaked with the red traces of your lipstick and an animalistic possessiveness swelled in your chest. You marked him.

Steve helped you stand up, kissing you deep as he seemed unable to utter anything at the moment. You reveled in his touch, holding him close and wiping the stray tear that was lingering at the corner of your eye.

“You know its love, don’t you?” He asked you softly, the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

Was this love? Was it love when you’d secretly smile at his fixation with you? Was it love that you always kept a flower from his bouquets before passing it on to the old lady? Was it love when you could read his tiredness in the lines of his forehead and make his coffee stronger? Maybe it was. Maybe it was love because there was no other way you’d have went on your knees to worship a man. Unknowingly, in accepting every ‘no’ you threw his way, he had earned your ‘yes’. In forsaking the access to your body, you had gifted him your heart. Holding his gaze, you pressed your lips to his palm, smiling.

“It is love.”

“Mr. Stark, where is Captain Rogers?” A reporter asked. “Wasn’t he supposed to be a part of this conference?”

Jacob groaned, kicking Tony’s shin repeatedly to no avail. He wished he could slap a hand on his boss’s mouth and drag him away, because the glint in Tony’s eyes meant that he would be working damage control for the next coming weeks.

“Rogers, you ask?” Tony said grinning, his face alight in mischief. “Friday just gave me some million dollar worth information on that, and I am proud to announce to the public that the world’s oldest virgin just got his dick wet.”

Banging his head on the desk in the view of the clambering reporters, Jacob cursed you and your libido that had ruined him.

“Why couldn’t they wait until after the conference?” He moaned, jumping out and almost tackling Tony who was about to give the media some ‘video proof’. “Oh no you don’t Mr. Stark, you sir are on time out. I’ll be reporting you to Miss Potts!”

[americangirlstar]

Now that both Courtney books are out and I’ve read and processed them both, I do want to say that I think they’re the least well-written of any of the AG books, but not through any fault of their own- let me explain.

(Note that for this discussion I’m ignoring the Doylist criticisms- Courtney and 3/4 of her friend group being white again, the lack of gay discussion in-text in regards to the HIV crisis, etc. These are valid complaints and concerns, but not what we’re talking about right now.)

The Problem with the Current Book Length

I think the main problem with Courtney stems from the fact her books are so short. American Girl has literally been doing the stupidest things in regards to their books lately, almost as if they’re trying to sabotage them on purpose. First they remove illustrations in 2015- when their target audience is about nine years old. I don’t know about you, but when I was six and getting into American Girl, the illustrations were the highlight for me. Not because I had no attention span and loved pretty pictures, but because it showed me firstly what the girl’s life was like, whether it be 1760s wilderness or 2001 Chicago. It was like stepping into their world, really helping you get into their heads, which was basically what the dolls were supposed to do, to let you know that girls like you exist throughout time and space.

As well as that, the illustrations were free advertisement. I can’t tell you how excited me and my sisters were as children to go to the American Girl place and look at the doll displays, shouting that that’s the dress Felicity wears to the ball! or look, Josefina’s goat looks exactly like the book! AG cut that from 2015 to 2020, as if they were trying to appeal to an older audience- while at the same time changing all the doll outfits, accessories and marketing to appeal to a younger demographic.

Now, this isn’t about the illustrations, as Courtney got those- it’s about what they did to the historical characters after the Illustration Outrage™ happened. See, they’d condensed the historical six-book format into two books- not necessarily a bad idea, parents would be more likely to buy two books for their kid than consider buying six. However, they then claimed that if they put illustrations back, they would have to abridge the books- literally my nightmare.

First of all, American Girl, we know for a fact you can fit all six books plus illustrations into ONE VOLUME, let alone two. You’re just being cowards here and trying to nerf your own stories for... some reason.

So that meant a lot of important things got cut- Rebecca’s Chanukah story, Melody’s cousin’s house search, Maryellen’s Christmas adventure... all things important to the girls’ histories and character.

The Problem with Courtney’s Writing

Now, Courtney was the first doll to be released after the abridging began, meaning her books were released, in their entirety, just as short as the abridged stories. So it basically means she gets four books while the others get six- and unlike the others, Courtney doesn’t even have mysteries or short stories to pad out. (And honestly, looking at her book’s amount of content, I’d even argue that she basically got two while everyone else got six, but I digress.)

The problem with her books isn’t that they have an author writing them poorly (I really feel like her author was doing the best with what limited time she had), but in how cramped American Girl made them. Because, well, Courtney has to deal with a lot in such a short amount of words.

Let’s compare her to Julie, for instance- Julie pretty much has a new 70s thing every book. In order: feminism, rising divorce rates, San Francisco’s Chinese culture, environmentalism, the country’s bicentennial, anti-bullying and deaf acceptance. And adding to this, we also have her own personal journies through her parents’ divorce and move, her basketball team, her friendship with Ivy (and later Joy), overcoming her fear of horses, student council, detention... It’s a lot, and yet her books don’t feel rushed or forced at all. It’s just a year in the life of a girl going through a lot of new and sudden events, and how she grows and changes throughout them. She may not be as deep a character as Addy or Kirsten, but not every girl goes through the trials and tribulations they do, and it’s a good series overall.

Courtney, meanwhile, does feel rushed and forced, because of the short timespan. Instead of fitting everything into a six-book format- or even at two-book format that is the same length and content as the six-book- everything has to be fit into two short books.   Everything Courtney has to cover includes the topics of divorce and stepfamilies, feminist and technological advancement, the Challenger explosion, the HIV crisis, Hands Across America, and the founding of Pleasant Company. And in Courtney’s own journey, she has to cover her learning to stand up for herself, her relationship with her stepsister and Tina’s own character development, her mother running for mayor and how that affects her, how much she misses her Dad after he moves, her friendship with Sarah (note on that later), her basically getting hate-crimed after standing up for her friend... that’s a LOT of stuff, and I didn’t even include the non-AG 80s product placement they shove into her collection.

But without the longer format, everything is pushed together to its detriment. Tina’s development and Maureen’s mayoral candidacy are two plotlines that are literally dropped and almost completely ignored in the second book. The Challenger and HIV issues were handled decently, but the Challenger only lasted a few short chapters, and the HIV topic was not as informative as it could be, leaving out several things like Reagan’s refusal to treat it for so long, and its effect on the gay community. Honestly, the HIV scare was more shifted to focus on the mob mentality of a new and scary disease- which, while needed right now, also ignores many of the bigotry-related reasons it became an epidemic. Pleasant Company’s inclusion feels forced in, and I think was the only resolution she had to her Dad plotline?

And don’t get me started on the Sarah plotline- every Girl of the Year since Kanani- sans Isabelle and Luci- has had the story of “oh no I’ve been ignoring my friend and now they’re mad at me :(” and it’s SO old. Seriously, I counted the contemporary dolls that have had that storyline, and it’s thirteen*. Thirteen times we’ve covered this issue- almost all of it in quick succession- and now we have to deal with it in a historical character book while much more important things are going on! Yes, it sucks when a friend ditches you while you’re being attacked and bullied for something you’re standing up for, but once again, with how much is happening in such a short book, it just feels like a forced-in plotline that we’ve seen a billion times, and with their falling-out happening mainly due to the attention Courtney was given Isaac, it serves to make Sarah seem closed-minded at best and bigoted at worst- it’s clarified that she’s not, she’s just scared and upset with Courtney, but when you put those events so close together, it leads the reader to lump them together and get the impression that, you know, Sarah is a worse person than she is.

*Full count: Nicki (book 2), Chrissa (book 2), Kanani (2), McKenna (1 iirc?), Saige (both books), Grace (2), Lea (3), Gabriela (1 and 3), Tenney (2), Z (1), Blaire (1), Joss (1) and Kira (1).

It’s a bit weird, too, that Courtney’s... what’s the word? Vibe? with her how her story is written and marketed Is closer to the Contemporaries than the Historicals. Am I the only one feeling this? My best explanation for it is that the author, Kellen Hertz, had only written contemporary books for American Girl before- the third Lea Clark book and all four Tenney Grant books, both of which contained the Friendship Issues™ plot. I’m not at all saying she’s a bad author- I honestly love the way the Tenney books are written- and I’m not saying she couldn’t write a historical book, but it’s clear American Girl didn’t ask her to change up her style or content from what she’d done for them before, as well as giving her way too much to cover in such short books.

Conclusion

Honestly, this conclusion should be obvious- American Girl needs to expand their books again. Whether they simply allow the books to be unabridged, or go back to the six-book format, Courtney's books are too cramped to tell an effective story, let alone the poor abridged girls.

The other girls were given six-book length, so if they went back to that length or format, Courtney would have to be rewritten, at least a little- and that’s okay! There’s a lot of things that could use expansion or connection, such as her Summer trip with her Dad that was given basically one sentence in the text. Her growth with her stepfamily could be acknowledged- and honestly? I think that if these books were expanded, her mother’s mayoral arc should either continue through the books, or Maureen should become mayor before the book 2 arc. I’ve mentioned this before, but having Maureen as mayor (or even still a candidate) would put a lot of pressure on Courtney to be perfect so that nobody can say “look at how awful this woman is for doing politics instead of raising her family right”- which means that when the Isaac stuff happens, it has even more stakes for Courtney and her family. Does her Mom still support her with her own reputation on the line, and what does that say about Maureen’s character, how does it affect Courtney and the D’Amicos... that’s all fascinating stuff that was completely missed out on.

And if she was turned into a six-book format- honestly, here’s how I’d do it, just off the top of my head. It would involve a bit of event shuffling, but honestly I think it would work!

Meet Courtney - pretty much the setup for everything happening, her starting to get her Crystal Starshooter plans and her mom’s campaign beginning.

Courtney Learns a Lesson - her relationship to Tina, culminating in the Challenger incident.

Courtney’s Surprise - we move the founding of Pleasant Company over here, since Molly’s basically her Christmas Present. We’ll probably need an additional plotline- maybe similar to Julie, she can have a story on spending the holidays in different places.

Happy Birthday Courtney - end of summer, aka meeting Isaac and her trip with her Dad.

Courtney Saves the Day - Beginning of the HIV arc, ending at her presentation to her class.

Changes for Courtney - Continuation of the HIV arc as things get worse for her and Isaac, ending where Friendship Superhero ends.

Is that a perfect sorting? Probably not, I came up with it in ten minutes. But would it give Courtney space to breathe and more time to explore everything happening to her? Probably!

The tl;dr of this is honestly that American Girl are absolute cowards right now, and need to expand their books back. Their abridging is only harming their stories- which, as Courtney herself points out, are the reason girls got into their company in the first place.

[4stars-uswnt]

You Take My Heart Away [Kelley O’Hara x Reader]

requested by anon: Kelley O’Hara x reader where reader gets into a fist fight but she’s like I won’t throw the first punch bc I’ll finish it and like she gets teased by the team but Kelley is mad at reader for it bc R could’ve gotten hurt but it was still cool

requested by anon: Can we get another Kelley O’Hara x reader doesn’t have to be anything specific just maybe along the lines of them both being crazy and maybe oblivious

A/N: i decided to combine these two prompts! hope y’all enjoy it. also bonus points to anybody who gets the title reference (there’s a lil connection to a reference within the story)

warnings: homophobic and sexist language, violence, and swearing

Conversation was flowing and music was playing in the background of the bar, as the USWNT finished up their first round of drinks and appetizers. The team had pushed together a couple of tables, where you all were now sitting, laughing at each other’s jokes.

The air was light, victory and celebration filling the atmosphere. Megan and Ashlyn had been the ones to suggest a night out after your win against Japan, not only to celebrate the 2-0 victory but also to celebrate Lindsey’s birthday that was in the next couple of days.

You were currently sitting next to your best friend, Kelley O’Hara, bridging the gap between the veterans and the youngsters.

“Anybody want another drink?” Alex asks, pushing her chair back, as she moves to get up.

A chorus of yeses ring out, the team’s orders ringing out.

“I’ll help you with that, Al.” You stand up from your seat, giving the other woman a warm smile.

Once the two of you had left for the bar, the rest of the team began interrogating Kelley, who let her eyes follow you as you moved through the crowd.

“Kel,” Ash calls out over the noise of the music. “When are you gonna admit to (Y/N) that you’re hopelessly in love with her?”

“What?” Kelley sputters, flustered.

Megan rolls her eyes at the defender. “It’s so obvious that you’ve had a crush on her for the past like six years, and a blind person can see that she likes you too.”

“I- I’m not in love with (Y/N).” Kelley’s face flushes, as she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “She’s my best friend.”

“Kelley,” Christen softly chimes in,, hoping to talk some sense in her friend she’s known since college. “You guys obviously have feelings for each other that go beyond friendship, and you’ve been dancing around them for years. We just want you two to be happy.”

Many of the women nod and voice their agreement.

“But what if it ruins our friendship and I lose her forever?” The freckled defender bites her lip nervously.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Christen gives her a knowing look. “Even if she didn’t reciprocate those feelings, she’s not gonna cut you out of her life.”

“And Kel,” Tobin adds on. “You never know until you ask her. And who knows? The risk of putting your heart out there may be worth it. But you’re just gonna live in the dark haunted by the unknown and what ifs unless you tell her how you feel.”

“I hate that you’re philosophical insights are usually right,” Kelley huffs.

Meanwhile, as the team holds their intervention for your best friend, you and Alex were at the bar ordering another round of drinks.

As you were waiting for the bartender, you and Alex were engaged in your own conversation, when you hear a boisterous voice interrupt you.

“Hey! It’s Alex Morgan!” A large man approaches the two of you, holding a half-full cup of beer in his hand, and you have a feeling he’s downed a couple pints already.

You sense Alex tense up next to you, as she gives the stranger a tight smile. “Hello.”

“Oh, and who’s this?” He turns to you, a leering grin on his face, making your insides turn. You reach for Alex’s hand in search of comfort but also as a protective gesture.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The man looks back at the star forward. “I hear your entire team is full of d*kes, but I didn’t think you were one. You’re way too hot to be a d*ke.”

Alex’s grip on your hand tightens, as anger radiates off of her. “I’m actually happily married.” She raises her left hand to show off her ring.

“Woah.” The stranger lets out a low whistle, his eyes slowly widening before he squinting to get a better look, as his movements impaired by the alcohol. “That is quite the rock. How’d you afford that with your pay? I’ve heard all about your team’s fight for equal pay and all that. I personally think it’s a load of crap. You guys aren’t even that good at soccer, and it’s so boring. The only thing that makes your games interesting is your smoking hot bodies.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust at this man’s blatant misogyny. “I’m surprised you know about our equal pay fight. I’d think it’d be too complicated for your thick skull,” you quip, throwing the insult right in his face.

“Ooooo feisty, are we?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “And where do you get off calling me dumb?”

“I’m just calling them as I see them,” you simply state, letting go of Alex’s hand, as you move to stand in front of her protectively. “Where do you get off disrespecting women and being a bigot?”

“(Y/N/N), it’s not worth it,” Alex whispers in your ear.

“I’d listen to your friend,” the man sneers and stands up straighter, slightly sobering up. “Because I’m not afraid to hit a girl, especially a mouthy one like you. Women like you deserve to be put in your place.”

“Go on then,” you challenge, probably a stupid decision on your part, but the adrenaline is rushing and you are at your wits end with this man in front of you. “I dare you.”

You thank all the gods in the universe that the stupid stranger was actually stupid enough to try and throw a punch with his blood-alcohol level because you can see his punch coming from a mile away.

Before his fist can make contact with your face, you grab his hand and twist his arm, leaning in closely to his face. “Is that all you got? My mom hits better than you.” You smirk.

“Let go of me, you bitch,” he growls, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Wait, I have one more thing,” you call out.

“What the hell are you talk-”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, rather your fist cuts him off. The man in front of you had been testing your patience and had used up all your grace, which, in your opinion, warranted a punch in the face.

You can’t help but wince at the sharp pain shooting through your hand upon the contact, but the cracking sound of his nose eases some of your discomfort.

By now, the rest of the team had become worried by your prolonged absence and then had noticed the commotion this stranger was stirring. Hearing the raised voices coming from your direction, many of the veterans, including Kelley, Christen, Tobin, Ash, Ali, and Megan, made their way over to where Alex was currently holding you back from unleashing your anger on this drunk man.

“What is going on here?” Becky asks, surveying the situation in front of her.

“This asshole was insulting Al and then had the audacity to continue being a sexist pig,” you spit out, directing your words at the man, who was still holding his bloody nose, while Alex was doing her best to keep you under wraps.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Ashlyn states firmly.

As the goalie, along with Becky, Megan, and Ali, coax the stranger into leaving you alone, and hopefully leaving the club, Alex, Christen, Tobin, and Kelley try and calm you down.

“(Y/N/N),” Christen soothes, cupping your face. “I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.” The curly-haired forward inhales and exhales, motioning for you to mimic her actions.

You take a deep breath, and upon exhaling, you feel the tension, along with the adrenaline, leave your body.

“Shit,” you sigh. “My hand.”

You lift your right hand, revealing your split knuckles on which bruises were starting to form.

“Come on, Sylvester.” Tobin claps your shoulder, letting out an amused chuckle. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, and on the way, you can tell us all about your heroics.”

You amusedly roll your eyes and lean into the other woman’s side.

As the team gathers their things, ready to call it a night after the turn of events, Megan approaches you, holding out a bag of ice.

“Here, (Y/N), the bartender gave me this for your hand.”

“Thanks, P.” You place the cool ice on your knuckles, hissing at the temperature shock.

On the way back to the hotel, many of your teammates were interrogating you about what had happened back at the bar. After telling the entire story, you received many hoots and hollers from the rest of the team.

“Damn (Y/N)!” Ash whistles. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Way to protect our honor,” Rose gushes, as many of the women nod along.

“Thank you, (Y/N), for defending me,” Alex says sincerely.

“Of course, Al. Anytime.” You give the forward a warm smile.

“Who knew (Y/N) could be such a badass?!” Emily exclaims with an impressed look on her face. “Kel, did you know that your best friend was a secret badass?”

While the rest of the girls had been teasing you about your heroic actions, your best friend had been oddly quiet.

“News to me.” Kelley answers shortly, her face hard and distant. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, wondering if the defender was mad at you. You thought she would’ve been proud of you for standing up for the team and putting a sexist douchebag in his place.

Before going back to entertaining your teammates’s jokes and questions, you make a mental note to talk to her once you get back to the hotel, silently thanking Vlatko for rooming the two of you together this camp.

You would never in a million years admit it, but you were harboring a huge crush for your best friend, had been for the past six years, ever since you’d joined the national team. Not only did you not want to ruin your friendship and end up losing Kelley, but you knew she would never return your feelings.

Over the past several years that you’d been friends with the defender, you’d seen Kelley go in and out of relationships, and comparing yourself to her other girlfriend’s, you had a feeling you weren’t her type.

You also had reservations due to the fact that Kelley was your teammate, and you didn’t want to change the team dynamic, especially if the two of you didn’t work out.

Thoughts of Kelley clouded your mind all the way back to the hotel, only further exacerbated by her deafening silence.

Upon arriving to the hotel lobby, before you all disperse to your rooms, Alex gives you another hug and thanks you again, and Becky, ever the mother of the group, gives you a warning.

“Make sure to ice on and off. 20 minutes. You know the drill, (Y/L/N). Kelley, make sure she takes care of that hand.”

“Don’t worry about me, Becks. I got it,” you reassure the veteran defender, giving her a mock salute.

Following Kelley, you cautiously enter the hotel room. You nervously watch the other women move around the room, as she silently goes about her usual nighttime routine. Taking the hint that she wasn’t going to talk to you anytime soon, you go about your own routine and get ready for bed.

After about twenty minutes later, after both of you had showered, you were finishing wrapping your hand and were about to get into bed, when you noticed Kelley discretely staring at your bandaged hand.

Unable to tolerate the silence anymore, you break the tension. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kel,” you sigh, plopping down on the side of her bed. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder ever since what happened at the bar. Are you mad at me?”

“Nope. Not mad,” Kelley hums slightly passive aggressively, still not looking up from her book.

You roll your eyes, frustrated by your best friend’s childish behavior. “Kelley, I know when you’re lying, and I know that you’re mad at me right now, so would you please just look at me?!”

Sensing the exasperation and frustration in your voice, Kelley closes and sets down her book. “Fine, you’re right. I am mad at you.”

You thought you’d feel relieved, hearing her confirm your suspicions, but instead, the pressure in your chest increases.

“Why? What did I do?” You practically beg, scooting up the bed, so you’re closer to the other woman.

“As if you don’t know,” she scoffs.

Confused, you tilt your head. “I clearly don’t. Kel, please talk to me, tell me what I did.”

“You literally punched a dude in the face!”

“Yeah, but he deserved it, Kel! You heard the things he was saying,” you defend. “I couldn’t just let him get away with talking about our team like that. I thought you’d be proud of me for standing up to a sexist asshole like him.”

“I am proud, sort of. I mean that was completely badass and totally warranted, not that I necessarily expected that from you, and I’m glad you put him in his place,” Kelley babbles. “But that’s not the point, (Y/N/N). You were reckless tonight. You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Your face softens at her outburst. Taking a deep breath, Kelley confesses, “I love you, (Y/N). I’m in love with you, and I just can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially by some drunk idiot who doesn’t know shit about football or respecting women.”

Your eyes widen and your heart practically stop, when you process the words that have come out of your best friend’s mouth.

“(Y/N), please say something,” Kelley begs.

“You’re in love with me?” You test the words on your mouth.

“Yeah,” she sighs contently, giving you a soft smile. “Have been for the past eight years.”

“Gosh, we really are idiots.” You let out a wet chuckle, shaking your head.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, too, Kel,” you rasped, your voice laced with pure emotion. “I’ve loved you since my first camp.”

“Wow,” Kelley scoffs, an amused grin playing on her face. “Are we really that oblivious?”

“Apparently so.” You shrug. “But we’re here now.”

“Yeah, we are.” The freckled woman softens. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, leaning in to meat the other woman’s lips. The kiss is nothing like you’d dreamed of; it’s better. It’s soft and tender, full of love and passion. You melt into each other, as your lips move together in harmony.

Not wanting things to get too heated, especially not before you’ve talked about what this meant for the future of your relationship, you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

“Hi,” you whisper, smiling like a fool.

“Hey,” Kelley murmurs softly, returning your smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She takes your hand, kissing your wrapped knuckles. “But please don’t be getting into any more bar fights.”

“Hey! I would never start a fight, however I have no problem finishing them.” You smirk, boasting slightly triumphantly.

Kelley rolls her eyes playfully, but then looks into your eyes. “I mean it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt. So no more fights alright?”

“I promise, Kel.” You give her a chaste kiss.

“Good.”

That night, you stay in Kelley’s bed, cuddling into her side. As you slowly drift into a peaceful sleep, you notice the woman next to you is already fast asleep.

You sigh contently, and you can’t help but feel extremely lucky that even after all these years, and everything that’s happened, life still led you to this woman and a love worth fighting for.

[joviantwelve]

well

I am loath to say it but I saw my first smattering of discourse™ on this site again so I figured I should clarify a few identity-related things about myself

OK so in general I consider the LGBT spectrum so insanely broad and gray that I feel like you can pretty much identify the way you want.  it’s just terms for your own personal experience, you know?  everyone’s going to experience things differently and different terms fit just as much as different clothes do

I feel like you see this so much more in irl communities and older communities & that younger people terminally online get dunked headfirst into these terms with 0 historical context and so they feel like certain labels NEED to mean one specific thing ONLY but then end up echoing the rhetoric of gatekeepers and bigots.

ESPECIALLY when you consider nonbinary folks, many without proper terms to define how they feel, because gender is a nebulous construct.  and so when you define sexuality based on gender, when that’s already so blurry, well...like.  c’mon.

all this to say, speaking as a he/she AFAB person, yes, he/him lesbians exist.  I quite consider myself one.  I’m panromantic too.  doesn’t stop me from considering specific crushes sapphic, styling myself as a butch, etc. etc.  you can find pics of bi lesbians from the ‘60s, you know?  I feel like folks just don’t do research.

I’m also asexual, and while I never really consider it part of how I style myself as a queer person, I don’t tolerate any acephobia either.  PERSONALLY I feel like the challenges facing ace folks are a little different, but I think the communities can vibe, and if someone defines that for themself as a queer experience, who am I to judge?

anyone doing any of the above because they like the terms, as they define them for themselves, is living a better life for it.  anyone doing so to deliberately anger people is a troll and should not even be engaged with.  so either way, leave them alone!!

IN SUMMARY it just doesn’t make sense to me to incentivize infighting in a community that’s already facing so much hardship.  who would even define such a thing, a thing based on indvidual experiences and how we interact with the world?  we have to stick together, folks.

if you don’t agree with me, I don’t want to hear it.  this place isn’t for you.  just leave, alright?

(if you have innocuous questions though, you can certainly ask, just be sure to be clear it’s genuine curiosity, haha.  had to block someone I was interested in making friends with today, so my patience is thin.)

[shamelesslymkp]

Sending as an ask since tumblr won't let me @ you and so that post doesn't get even longer - - don't worry, your tags are actually funny instead of insulting. I use it/its pronouns /because/ they aren't normally used for humans, so it's meant to be challenging people's idea of what a makes a person a person. Funnily enough, I was using it/its pronouns long before I even heard of Murderbot, let alone knew it also used it/its pronouns, which I think is hilariously ironic.

As for my response, it was mostly because a lot of other people in the fandom like to either explicitly or subtly victim blame me and say that because I get so upset about people being purposeful bigots, that's why people are being bigots in the first place. Even though most of time time I make a post where I'm angry, I'm not actually reblogging from anyone directly, I'm explaining what is being done wrong and why it's wrong. This time I reblogged the post directly because it was so infuriating I could not let it stand there by itself without any correction.

And funnily (ironically) enough, before I saw that post, I saw another post by the same person where "he" was used for Murderbot. So I reblogged it with my usual polite copy and pasted correction of, literally, "Just so you know, Murderbot's pronouns are it/its, not he/him! :)"

And the purposefully misgendering post was made yesterday too, and at this point I can't tell with the timestamps if it was made before or after I corrected the first post that looked like an honest mistake.

As for not seeing people misgendering Murderbot, if you have people blocked already, their posts won't show up in the tags, and also tumblr's tagging system doesn't show everyone the same posts even if they're all tagged as the exact same thing, so it might just be sheer luck that you are not seeing the posts, or just the timing being off.

I also tend to make a lot of posts at once when I see people doing this, so that shoves the offending posts deeper into the pile and makes them harder to find, so that might also be why you don't see them.

Also, some of these people strategically make their bigotry hard to find, by only leaving exorsexist (bigotry against nonbinary people, for the record) comments on replies, rather than reblogs or original posts, so that no one looking at their blog will see the horrible things they're saying. It is unfortunately a very common tactic with bigots that I've had to deal with across multiple fandoms now, and bigots in general.

Usually if someone is being a bigot in the replies, it means that's almost the only way they ever interact with posts, because it means only people who go into the replies on that specific post will see what they're saying, with no blog filled with evidence to hold against them.

Anyways, thank you for standing up for people who use it/its pronouns.

ahh yeah that makes sense! and I'm glad my tags were funny and not insulting xD

(also, thanks for defining exorsexist! I had intuited most of the definition from context but I wasn't sure if I'd gotten the nuance right)

I have to go prep for D&D now but I'm glad we were able to talk like this!

I'm publishing this response actually because you made a really important point that makes sense but hadn't particularly occurred to me before and might not to others:

some of these people strategically make their bigotry hard to find, by only leaving exorsexist (bigotry against nonbinary people, for the record) comments on replies, rather than reblogs or original posts, so that no one looking at their blog will see the horrible things they're saying.

and

Usually if someone is being a bigot in the replies, it means that's almost the only way they ever interact with posts, because it means only people who go into the replies on that specific post will see what they're saying, with no blog filled with evidence to hold against them.

I'm going to have to remember that, that's an important thing to keep in mind!

[serpentstole]

Luciferian Challenge: Day 25

What is the most valuable lesson you have learned from this path?

Speaking specifically about Luciferianism or similar practices: you can be adversarial, heretical, and defiant against aspects of your previous religion without being a dick about it. 

Blasphemy is absolutely an aspect of my religious practice. I venerate a fallen angel. I incorporate the mother of mankind, who is recognized as a saint in some branches of Christianity, into my Luciferianism. I celebrate the Original Sin (as it’s understood within the context of Christianity), I want to make devotional jewelry and prayer beads out of chains from antique rosaries, and I refuse to surrender my appreciation for a blasting pipe organ or some stained glass. The reversal of my baptism, by nature, also has to be a very heretical rite. Part of the reason I say that my Luciferianism cannot be divorced or even distanced from Christianity is because if it was, none of this would matter. You can’t be a heretic or blasphemous if you don’t on some level acknowledge the laws and rules and expectations of that faith.

But I try not to rub it in anyone’s face, you know? It’s personal to me, not performed openly for the sake of making a statement or purely to offend.

Yes, there might be people who come into my house and take issue with the origins of the beads I used, or the cathedral architecture in my banner. However, they’re just as likely to take issue with the fact that I’m a Luciferian at all. For the rest, I strive not to be confrontational or publicly self indulgent about it. I get no joy from making others uncomfortable, or from shock value, or from offending people. My use of the heretical is my own, my adversarial nature is reserved for those that truly deserve it, and being nasty for the sake of it seems to me like it’ll do more harm than good. 

I’m not going to wring my hands and pretend that here in North America, Christians are oppressed. In both Canada and the United States, Christianity continues to be the dominant religion, and the way it exists within our culture absolutely impacts things like education and lawmaking despite claims to the contrary. I also won’t say that everyone who faces hostility from Christian individuals should meet it with perfect grace and poise, and that losing one’s temper in the face of such abuse is a failure. When someone else is initiating a confrontation, it can be very stressful and we can react how we might not have with a clearer head and a little distance. I know I’ve fallen victim to this in my life.

What I think is that sometimes it’s better to just disengage, to ignore, to block, or to otherwise distance oneself from those who have no interest in learning. They won’t walk away from the exchange feeling thoroughly owned, and you aren’t likely to sway their followers, as those are the fans of their content and message. They’ll walk away thinking Luciferians and Satanists are edgy assholes whose only religious purpose is to try and own Christians with sick burns on the internet. I also think those that seek out Christian bloggers or communities just to insult them or troll them are wasting their time and doing far more harm than good, regardless of what the blog in question is saying. Yes, even if they’re an Evangelical fundamentalist.

This might seem like a strange stance to take as someone who believes so strongly in social progress and empathy, but please remember what some of these communities can be like. That they might have grown up being told anyone unlike them won’t understand the way their church and family does. That people who don’t hold their specific ideals are worse off for it, and that Lucifer, Satan, and the devil is synonymous with evil and that anyone who venerates such beings are monstrous and trying to harm them.

Reinforcing those existing biases and assumptions will not help anyone. Everyone likes to escalate. To champion their cause, and get flustered and worked up over it. Don’t give them the enemy they crave. Do what is right for your beliefs and your practice, but in whatever sacred and personal space or corner of the internet you’ve set aside for it, and leave them to fester alone with their thoughts.

And if their posts only have like three or four notes, you’re only broadcasting those talking points to a wider audience, including those whose days might be ruined by having harmful ideology plastered all over their dash. Let them holler into the void. No one was reading it anyway.

Also, as a side note, way more occultists/people within the witchblr community are Christian than you might think, and you kind of just look like an stupid asshole if you’re taking pot shots at the concept as if you think every Christian is a funeral picketing turbo bigot.

[isa-ah]

I'm sorry to hear your mom was being frustrating, would it be okay to ask what happened? 🥺

god there's so much like... context i was raised by my grandparents who are dead now, then by my abusive aunt that my mom's tried repeatedly to make me get back in touch with, my aunt outed me as trans and my mom wouldn't look me in the eye or be alone with me after, tried to KMS a couple times and my mom didnt care, then I left for a couple years, came back into town and my mom cried a bunch and was RLLY set on "being in my life finally" so.

we started doing weekly dinners where me and my fiance would go over and wed chat and have family time which was. strained. bc she's a bigot christian and we're queer. but we tried to get thru it til she made a r*pe joke about lil nas x mixed in w some other racist anecdote and we noped out. I texted her later like hey smtn you said made us rlly uncomfortable, y'know trying to open communication, and her response was basically ok bye. and she stopped talking to us for weeks thereafter and wordlessly cancelled family dinner. (she also vagued about me on facebook that night... lol?)

she eventually got bored and was like wanna hang out :) and swept it all under the rug so we were like fine sure and it was. strained! again! until we finally left for a different state, after which I was texting w her when I accidentally butt recorded an audio message where lo and I were discussing her bigotry in the most mild terms. like mild ok. and her response was as if I'd thrown her down in the streets to draw and quarter her.

she was like i feel sick i need space i need to think now that uve told me what u rlly think (after which she blocked my fiance on facebook and posted a meme about being challenged by satan lol) so i, again put in the position of trying to be the adult, was like do you want to talk about it? after which she left me on read for like two months.

i was like whatever i don't need to address her to talk to the boys so i texted my baby brothers today to ask if they want to hop a state over and stay with us for a weekend to go apple picking & then suddenly, miraculously, she texted back out of the blue (lol...) and it was some shit like i see now that we disagree on essential truths and it's always going to be stressful but I... I will overcome it... and try to find a way to love you anyway..... ur welcome lol <3

which I. just. have. nothing to say to like I really don't. im going to leave her on read bc none of this resolves anything & she won't have the hard conversations. im sick of it. "essential truths..." yeah mom i don't think brown people should be in cages and queers should be sent to the glue factory FUCK don't treat me like IM lucky to be forgiven. she only texted me back because i got in touch with my brother anyway. fuck dude

[angst-fairygodmother]

Exchanges: Town Hall (The Song of Sway Lake Story)

Jess confronts Charlotte after the town hall debate, hoping and failing to find common ground. 

Word Count: 1045

Rating: PG-13 - several instances of mild language, insults, slight spoilers for Song of Sway Lake if you squint

“Why are you doing this?” Jess asked, following Charlotte out of the town hall meeting that was one step short of a riot.

The Sway matriarch scoffed. “I don’t have to stand here and be berated any longer. I’m leaving.”

“Wait, please. I’m not trying to berate you. I’m asking an honest question, because maybe if I understand you better it’ll feel a little less like you’re just maliciously trying to destroy my life and the lives of people like me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I grew up on the lake too. But my family wasn’t lucky enough, or wealthy enough, to be a founder. So we built a place brick by brick, until we had a home here. But locals think we’re a novelty, and we need the curious and the bored, and that means tourists, to survive.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, unmoved by Jess’s impassioned speech.

“So I get wanting to preserve it, trust me I do. I love this place, and I’ve never seen somewhere so beautiful. But we need to move forward. And you’re standing in the way of that, and I’m asking why.”

“If you truly understood, you wouldn’t need to ask that.”

“There has to be a way for everyone to win, a...compromise. Something.”

“My father was a businessman, just as much as your grandfather or every other greedy self-interested immigrant and vagrant that came in, tried to claim a piece of what wasn’t theirs, and built something off the backs of those who were here first. And even when he lost everything in the crash, he pulled himself up by the bootstraps, started over, and made something of himself.”

Jess frowned at what definitely sounded like the start of an out of touch, vaguely bigoted ‘back in my day’ lecture. She gritted her teeth, holding back the snide response on the tip of her tongue.

“Jessica, don’t,” Nikolai said warningly from the other side of the car, looking for a second like he might circle around to put himself between the two women. She wondered if it was out of concern for her, his best friend's girlfriend, or some lingering protective instinct over Charlotte.

“And don’t think I don’t know exactly who you are, Ms. O’Neill. I am not to blame for your struggles. If you can’t figure out how to make a living selling the drivel you stock, maybe you should consider a new line of work. Give up. Abandon it to your sister and run away to the city if you're not cut out for it. Instead of blaming everyone else for your problems.”

“Bitch,” the word slipped bitterly from Jess’s mouth before she could think. Set on a course now, she laughed in disbelief. “Ollie told me you’re selling the Point. Which means you don’t actually care. You’re just so alone and miserable and horrible that you have to drag the rest of us down to feel like you still matter in the world.”

Charlotte shook her head, a condescending smile on her face as she turned back to the car.

“Hey! I’m not done talking,” Jess snapped. “I don’t want to hate you. I tried to see things from your perspective. But if you don’t want to meet in the middle, fine. Just remember, you're a relic of a bygone era. Just like that stupid house.”

She shook her head, almost pitying now. “I hope you can’t sell. I hope you’re stuck there for the rest of your life, and you get to watch as everything you claim to love gives way to progress. Marinas, and jet skies and pre-fab box vacation homes. Maybe a summer camp or a motel with basketball courts and chlorinated pools bumping right up against your precious, perfectly manicured lawn. It’ll be a fitting penance for trying to destroy things for the people that actually give a shit enough to stay.”

“And here I thought you said you loved the lake like I do.”

“You still don't get it. The things to love aren't the pristine water or the particular fish, or the types of boats out and about. And certainly not the huge fancy homes and private properties.” She made a sweeping gesture. “Take a look around, Mrs. Sway.  There is so much life here that your lake never had. Do you even know what joy sounds like anymore?”

Charlotte and Nikolai both frowned, staring at Jess.

“You sit up there, alone, and you judge everyone else as unworthy no matter what they do. You want everything to be so clean and untouched. But that also makes it unloved. Things aren't beautiful or special because they've not faced challenges. The ones that weather the storms or the jet skis, or the people trying to tear them down, and come out the other side not only surviving but having thrived are so much more. Sway Lake is strong, stronger than you give it credit for. It doesn't need to be sheltered or shaped or preserved. Just let it breathe and grow and find it's own way.” 

“You're very clever, pretending this is about the lake,” Charlie drawled, her lips pressed together somewhere between a smirk and the grimace that comes with an unexpected lemon.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I can't tell you mean my grandson? I’ve heard that little rumor, I know where he spends his time in town.” Charlotte took a step closer, an angry glint in her eyes to go along with the smug smile on her face. “Are you really upset about my conservation efforts, or because you know if I get my way, the lake will never be yours for you and your little townie friends to treat like a playground? You will never be a Sway dear. Ollie will get bored, and remember where he belongs, and you’ll be left with nothing. Again.”

“I…” Jess gaped at her. Even as she fought back hot, angry tears, she was almost impressed by how well the other woman had cut straight through her to her insecurities, and picked up on what Jess didn’t even know she was saying. 

Charlotte Sway turned away, climbing into the station wagon that Nikolai was driving and left without another word, and Jess just stared, watching her go.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Do you have a theory about what drama befell Homestuck 2, or if there was any drama at all to cause it to seemingly go down?

I had no clue, but Andrew Hussie posted his explanation on Patreon, which is a public post so I’ll just quote the whole thing here:

Homestuck^2 is going to be completed, but the Patreon will not be charging patrons anymore. The account will be frozen and no additional patrons will be accepted, but the ones currently registered are welcome to stay and receive notifications about the future of this project if the team is inclined to post any.

The plan now is to have HS^2 finished, but without a regular update schedule. Previously saved Patreon funds will be used to privately commission the team to finish the story. It will all be posted at once when it is finished, and there will be no updates until this happens. I expect that it will take a long time to finish the story. This is because I am specifically instructing the team to work slowly.

I originally agreed to let this project move forward entirely based on the presumption that it would be an enjoyable experience for the team involved. It's not like I had a burning need to release a continuation of the narrative, or a formal "sequel", which is never how I viewed this arc. The project mostly came about because I picked up on the enthusiasm the original creative group had for the idea, and I also sensed that energy was being reciprocated by the particular state of the fandom at the time. But since then I've observed it's been pretty far from an enjoyable experience for the team due to the way the members have been treated by large segments of the fandom, and this pattern appeared to surface almost immediately after the project launched.

This put me in a state of conflict about the project ever since, because I like the content quite a bit. Some have lamented that it doesn't feel much like the original series, but it was never supposed to. I've never once invited anyone to work on a Homestuck project with the hope they would perfectly clone my style or approach to making content. I feel that is neither possible nor desirable. So any time I invite anyone the only real standard I want them to meet is to bring their own voice and perspective to the work even if, or sometimes especially, this results in significant departures from the expectations for the characters fans typically have. Like pretty much everything else that's been released over the last few years, I think HS^2 has satisfied that purpose very well.

So there has been conflict between liking what's being done, not wanting to waste the work or disappoint those who enjoy it, and the chronic abusive treatment the staff has received while trying to work on this story. I admit I've been at a loss on how to handle this, so I've just let it ride for a year or so. To some extent it's part of any project like this, to put stuff out there and receive criticism, and I'm sure the team understood that. But I think there's a line where criticism crosses over into more abusive expressions, and I've observed this has happened way too often.

If it were just me making it, I don't think it would even occur to me to have a problem with it, because I'm so used to wild stuff coming at me from doing this for many years prior. I view attitudes toward me very differently than those I invite for collaboration. I've done this so long hostility toward me barely even registers. If I inexplicably log onto tumblr appearing to resemble some sort of extravagant clown, make a few shitposts, and I'm met with literally thousands upon thousands of comments about feet, it's pretty easy to laugh it off because that's exactly the type of stupid shit I expected to see. I've just always worked with those types of contentious interactions in a way that is inseparable from whatever strange performance is connected with the content I happen to be making at the time. But it's a very different situation when I see stuff directed at the people I work with.

The things I see that my co-creators and friends have to read are a lot more alarming. One major problem here is the people I work with are mostly women, many are transgender, many are people of color. So the stuff they get is especially vicious, because the people giving them shit usually target the sensitive features of their identities in ways they don't with me. And I'm not just talking about obvious stuff like calling them slurs or anything. It's more that I've noticed people have clever ways of using people's identities to bully them in less conspicuously bigoted ways. They always go a little harder, a little more critical, manufacturing ways of blaming them for things they had nothing to do with. Stuff you start noticing when you've seen way too much of it. Much of this stuff even crosses into physically threatening territory. Some people I work with get multiple threats every week, and it's just become a routine part of their lives while being involved with Homestuck. All the above treatment I'm referring to is not focused on a couple  people, it covers everyone contributing to the full range of Homestuck projects over the last several years.

And I don't think that's what contributors were signing up for, or at least, I never wanted anyone who takes on official work to feel like it's an essential cost of participation. But I've never really known what to do about this, because it's very difficult to control fandom behavior, and if you ever try to police anyone's conduct it usually just backfires. The worst offenders out there almost see it as a challenge to go harder. So usually I leave these things alone, since the only alternative is pulling the plug on certain projects. Which is essentially what I'm doing here, while taking steps to make sure it gets finished in the background, because I really don't want to see the work wasted.

My only criteria for the completion of HS^2 is that whoever is involved the rest of the way just has a good time with it, and ends up feeling like they have made a good story. If the team is happy with it, then so am I, and nothing else about it matters to me. Especially not sticking to a schedule or satisfying fandom demands, whatever those even are at this point.

Since this is a post appearing on the Patreon, I should say any reference to abusive fan behavior isn't including current patrons obviously. I can only assume anyone willing to donate to the project for this long would hold a very sincere attitude about supporting this project, which I greatly appreciate and I'm sure the HS^2 team does as well.

There's probably more to say about this, but I'll leave it at that for now. If there's anything to add later I may address it in an internal note to patrons (remember that if you want to remain a patron you will never be charged again). I'll consider ways to thank the patrons for hanging in there all this time and supporting the team. Maybe some free stuff. We all appreciate your support. —Andrew