#but realizing that sometimes you're allowed to just.. be.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

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Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up. 

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg. 

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault. 

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up. 

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke. 

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. 

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth. 

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said. 

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look. 

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass. 

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM. 

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest. 

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting. 

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned. 

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh.  But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning. 

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled. 

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared. 

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon. 

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air. 

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?” 

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground. 

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. 

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

[genderqueerdykes]

Thank youuuu omg for saying that queer men can be lesbians. I'm genderfluid, but before I discovered that, I was like "oh shit I'm a lesbian lmao" and honestly at the time I didn't really care because my area was pretty accepting but fast forward a couple years later and now me being a lesbian is intrinsically a part of me. I am proud of being a lesbian, and now that I've discovered that I'm multigender and thus a dude at certain times of the day, I'm not going to invent a whole new identity for that. The idea that you're only a lesbian if you're COMPLETELY woman/nonbinary is trash because....I'm kinda all three? You can't just....exclude me from the first identity I've ever known because I discovered something new and enlightening about myself. I won't have it, and no one else should either. Thank you for coming to my ted talk. *Bows politely*

you should be proud of that! those are very awesome things to be! there's nothing wrong with being a combination of queer labels! people don't have to pick just one, i'm not sure why folks think that, but it's just not true!

you're right, you shouldn't have to invent an entire new identity just to express that! so many multigender people and trans men go through this exact thing. some people start in the lesbian community and don't want to leave no matter what their gender is, and that's fine! someone shouldn't have to completely abandon their lesbianism just because they also figured out they're trans. lesbians can be trans! lesbians can be nonbinary! lesbians can be multigender! lesbians can be two-spirit! lesbians can be genderfluid! never forget that lesbians can be trans in more than just one way!

thanks for stopping by! i really appreciate this ask! i want 2025 to be a year of folks realizing lesbians can be and ARE trans in a multitude of ways, and yes, this does include lesbians who are men/who are men sometimes! its' not a threat to lesbianism, it's a good thing! lesbians are diverse! let us celebrate! you shouldn't have to give up any of that. you're allowed to be all of those at once! take care!

[fakeboismakegoodgirls]

you need money. so you get a sugar daddy. he promises you a huge allowance, extravagant dates, and frequent gifts. the only condition: you have to dress as a girl. he likes "femboys", he says. he even helps you out at first, buying you slutty little skirts and cute dresses to wear whenever you see him. he gets you lacy bras and matching panties, and sometimes he snaps a few pictures of you in them before he strips them off and fucks you. you don't mind; he pays extra for that.

after a few weeks of this, his vocab starts to slip. he orders for you at the five star restaurants he takes you to: "she'll have the..." he tells you it's for your safety, after all, no one can tell you're a man when all your feminine curves are on display. then it makes its way into the bedroom: "good girl," he praises when you cum on his cock. you feel your cunt twitch; surely it's just from the orgasm.

it happens more and more: calling you a good girl, sweet talk about your feminine curves and girly cunt. you argue; but he says it's "just a kink" of his, but he *needs* it, and if you want to keep him (and his money) around, you'll do it. so you do. you let him call you all kinds of feminine terms, point out the biological reality of your body, and when he tells you to repeat it back to you, you do that too: "i'm a girl, and i was made for real men's cocks." you don't even notice that he rubs you faster, fucks you harder whenever you call yourself a girl. you don't notice that he makes sure to shower you in feminine compliments every time you come. you don't notice, at least at first, that your pussy absolutely *gushes* whenever you you say those words: "i'm a girl, and i was made for real men's cocks." you don't notice, at first, that your girly little clit throbs every time he reminds you that only women have pussies. you *do* notice when you realize while touching yourself that you can't cum anymore without referring to yourself as a girl. you tell this to your sugar daddy, tearful and embarrassed. he shushes you, wrapping his arms around you, soothing you with gentle circles over your clit. he tells you that it makes sense, that it just means you've finally accepted your biological reality, your true gender, and you believe him. he smirks, knowing he successfully conditioned you into viewing yourself as nothing but a slutty little girl, made to take his cock.

[tanadrin]

"Zero-sum game" anon returning. I am surprisingly capable of maintaining optimism of the will, but ONLY as long as I stay away from the news or even other people liable to be upset by it. This unfortunately includes not only everyone I care about personally, but quite a few of the larger communities committed to organizing against those who would harm them. Advice to "try to change the subject or else walk away" works mainly for the former, and in any case is much harder to do when it's your own life at stake too.

Last month, you covered a related phenomenon in an excellent musing about the dangers of conflating identity with suffering. "Everyone secretly hates me and is out to destroy me" is terrible enough as a self-concept, but as a rallying point has even more potential for harm. This is where I think an element of peer pressure comes into doomerism: If catastrophizing is part of what holds a group together, then non-participation becomes a perceived threat to unity no matter what the rationale. Never mind that I want to avoid a mental breakdown from dwelling on all the reasons bigots want me dead; plenty of loud doomer activists from multiple demographics would still declare me as evil as a bigot myself for this "crime" of wanting to turn away from our shared pain.

In theory, balanced ways must exist between obliviousness and burnout. In practice, I feel disloyal to anyone I share even the remotest crumb of kinship with for even daring to consider such a thing. And yes, I do realize now how that might be actually be part of the problem.

yeah i'm sympathetic to the whole "sometimes binging news coverage is a huge fucking bummer that drags me down" thing; and there's not actually any inherent virtue to Bearing Witness to the Horrors, especially if you find that shit demotivational. and if people want to make Bearing Witness to the Horrors, or even worse, Being Victim to the Horrors, the non-negotiable determinative element of a shared group identity, the thing you must do to prove your trust and virtue to others, run the fuck away!

people who demand you make misery central to your identity or your worldview aren't just wrong, they are dangerous. they are emotional vampires. they are interpersonal varelse. many people acquire social antibodies against that sort of thing as they mature, but not everybody, and sometimes these kinds of people will try to leverage the mechanisms of shared identity or in-group language to sink their metaphorical fangs into your metaphorical jugular. so for those people that need it, i am giving you explicit permission to tell people like that to Fuck Off. you don't need to give them the benefit of the doubt--it doesn't matter whether they do it on purpose or not. you don't need to feel sorry for them--they will feel plenty sorry for themselves. you don't need to try to help them--they do not want your help. just tell them to fuck off. then ignore them forever. you're allowed!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

You mentioned you romanced Lucanis, how do you feel about Neve x Lucanis getting together if you don't romance either of them?

It's fine, I guess.

I romanced Davrin on my first playthrough, and I'll be honest, Neve and Lucanis getting together came out of no where for me. After the scene played, I realized that I rarely had them together in my party, and if I had, it'd probably make more sense. Or have more chemistry.

I left that scene like, "...What just happened? Oh well, good for them, I guess, have fun!"

I had Neve in my party a lot [Davrin and Neve were my go-to duo], and Lucanis was unfortunately benched until it was time to do his quests... which is really ironic, like if you had asked me who my least favorite companion was at the end of that first playthrough, it would've been Lucanis.

It doesn't help that I saved Minrathous, so I missed out on some of his personal quests, too.

I didn't dislike him or anything... though learning about Spite did have me throw him off the table of potential love interests because that Anders Romance Trauma [affectionate] kicked in and I said, "noooooo, I'm not doing that again, you cannot make meeee-"

Which, again.... ironic. Because he crawled his way back onto the table and made me feel things. It healed some parts of me. But also did more damage. It's complicated, like being an andersmancer makes it a whole other discussion for another day.

I will say, I saw a lot of talk about Neve and Lucanis prior to doing his romance which made me wonder if it was another Isabela and Fenris "Isabela bad because she USES Fenris if you don't romance him" situation where players are weirdly jealous and take it out on the female character... which uh oh.

Yeah, I can honestly say I never felt "threatened" by Neve while pursuing Lucanis. I brought them out and about several times, waited to see if they'd flirt or anything, or give me a reason to feel that he liked her more than my Rook, and like... It's not just a Neve and Lucanis thing.

It's more to do with Rook feeling like an outsider within the group who isn't allowed to interact with their companions until the game tells them to. Walking around the lighthouse feels really lonely sometimes because you're just approaching your friends, listening to their conversations, and then they look at you like "....can we help you?" and you just... walk away. Also the visual during team meetings where everyone is sitting together with Rook on the other side by themselves with only Assan sitting at their feet...

...again, topic for another day.

Anyway, aside from that? No, I never felt like they crossed a line for me that would make feel like they liked each other better than Rook. If there is banter that does, then I didn't get it.

There was this really sweet banter after I locked his romance in though, the one where Neve commented on Lucanis smiling more and making sure he recognizes that he's happy with Rook. That only endeared me to Neve more than I already was, I adore her.

But if I'm not romancing either of them? Let them have their fun, y'know?

[uncanny-tranny]

It's actually kind of heartbreaking how many people feel their life has ended right after high school or college, and honestly, the heavy romanticization of that period of time is so overwhelmingly predominant that it can be hard to avoid. It's insidious to constantly be told that ages 10-24 are the only worthwhile parts of life, that everything after is essentially meaningless and dull.

It's hard not to look around you and think that your life still is open and full of potential when you're told over and over again that the rose-tinted childhood is the last time you were alive. It's hard to realize that your life isn't over when you walk off the stage of your graduation.

We must realize that we will always be full of potentials. Your life won't be over until you take your final breath, and then? That's simply another chapter in your story, one of many. Let yourself realize that you're alive in the here and now. There will be good and bad, but never a complete loss of potential or hope.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????

[ukusreticence]

destined for isolation - side a

[altruistic-meme]

oph, hey anxiety ✌️

[flufflecat]

can writers stop amounting their characters to such a husk of themselves that them literally killing themselves for no reason is considered a good death

[lemonnbug]

Telling myself "No, I'm not taking that on" when someone is being negative towards me has done WONDERS for my mental health, ngl

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Trial run prompt thing: Does anyone get what I mean (in the way that I'm describing it or similarly) or does this sound strange?

It's nice to see someone articulate this actually, hence the fact that is is a reblog, of course.

(The thoughts of substance are in the tags, this time.)

does anyone feel the layer of plexiglass between themselves and the rest of the world or is that just a me thing

[aromanticannibal]

honestly it's so funny how ppl use freedom of speech to justify saying bs sometimes bc like. congrats you're saying it! no ones stopping you! you're free! are you happy to be saying it tho?

[lymtw]

Roommate!Toji

Roommate!Toji who notices that you aren't exactly a ray of sunshine when you first move in, but completely understands the reasoning behind it once you explain your situation. You had to run away from your cheating ex boyfriend, because he started acting crazy when you confronted him and broke up with him all in one go.

Roommate!Toji who, despite rarely seeing you, developed the fattest crush on you and was torn between not wanting to act like a kid in elementary school about it, but also not being extremely assertive, because he thought it might turn you off.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't get to act either way around you, because you promised him that you would make yourself as unnoticeable as possible when you're home, and that you wouldn't be an issue for him, at all. You rarely leave your room when you're home, and when you see that he's in a room you need something from, you spin on your heel and immediately retreat, not coming back out for at least half an hour to ensure that he's not there anymore.

Roommate!Toji who hates that you're actually keeping your word about this. It really is like he's still living alone, until you briefly appear when you are either heading out or getting home. It's always a quiet "hi" or "goodnight" and if he's lucky, it's, "hey, Toji" and "goodnight, Toji". Sometimes, he only gets a glance from you as you quickly stride past him to get to your room. Those nights usually come with the sounds of sniffling and stuttered deep breaths, that make Toji furrow his eyebrows through a mixture of sentiments, when he hears them outside your door.

Roommate!Toji who sees you leave your room one night, all dolled up and wearing a dangerously seductive perfume he has never smelled on you before. His posture straightens like that of an obedient dog with a treat dangling in its face, and he almost stands up to follow you to the door, but he wills himself to stay down and asks the questions that are on his mind, before you leave.

Roommate!Toji who is in awe when he hears a consistent flow of your voice answering his questions about your plans, rather than just the usual quick greeting and goodnight. It's the longest you have spoken to him since you moved in and it's the sound equivalent of drizzling honey—sweet, smooth, and pleasant. With an awkward, borderline hypnotized nod, he stops being a distracting chatterbox and lets you go with a final "Well... have fun."

Roommate!Toji who does not miss another opportunity to know what is still bringing you all this misery, when you come back looking like you had the opposite of fun. As you're about to wordlessly stroll past him, to go to your room, he stops you with a "hey" and grabs a beer from his pack, extending it towards you while patting the spot on the couch next to him. It's a whole different type of relief when you inch closer, hesitantly, but take the drink and sit where he directed you to sit.

Roommate!Toji who finds the way you start out acting timidly towards him, to be adorable. You sat where he wanted you to sit, out of politeness, but you crossed your legs and arms so that you didn't accidentally touch him. That all goes out the window when your politeness does not allow you to refuse his offering of more drinks. You open up and you relax your limbs and it's as if you don't even realize—or maybe you don't care, anymore—that your shoulder and your knee is right against his.

Roommate!Toji who listens to you ramble on, tipsily, about how your ex has been finding all kinds of ways to get in contact with you, going to the extent of making new social accounts and getting new phone numbers every time he breaks character and reveals that it's him. You look bothered as you retell the amount of times your ex has told you he's sorry and that he wants you back.

Roommate!Toji who realizes you're crying when he catches the waver in your voice as you tell him that the situation is making you miserable and that you don't know what to do, anymore. It's one of the saddest things he's ever seen. Your body is trembling from your attempt to keep your emotions contained, your lips are quivering, and you're looking down at your lap, as if you're embarrassed about being upset.

Roommate!Toji who does not hesitate to pull you in for a tight hug when you hide your face with your hands. He does not mind that you're soaking his shoulder with your tears. He comforts you by caressing the back of your head and drawing circles on your back with his palm. For a brief moment, his nose has full access to the intoxicating scent you're doused in and god, it's beautiful. So fitting for you.

Roommate!Toji who wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and keeps them dry when your tears keep flowing as you recount your history with your ex and how you found out he was cheating on you. You're breaking Toji's heart, but he's not going to stop you. With how passionately and in depth you're describing it all, it really seems like he's the first to have listened to you about the subject.

Roommate!Toji whose heart drops when you tell him that if your ex finds you, you're going to have to move, again. Immediately, he's throwing out solutions. "We can get the police involved—file a restraining order..." "Got a couple pocket knives you can have..." "I can wait for you to get off work, outside your building..."

Roommate!Toji who hasn't killed anyone in years, but knows that if thrown into a situation that required him to do so, his abilities would not be rusted. All those innocent suggestions he blurted out, were merely to provide some comfort for you and to help you begin to understand that he can help you if you tell him things. Only Toji knows that if the idiot shows up looking for you, he's getting picked off without a warning.

Roommate!Toji whose heart rate increases when you smile at him with your tired, now, unintentionally sad-looking eyes, and when you wrap your arms around him this time, he finds he doesn't want to let go of you. You smell so good and you're so warm against him. He's in a daze, with this mixture of alcohol and you.

Roommate!Toji who takes this intimate moment as an opportunity to kiss you. His lips brush your shut, unmoving ones, for a solid five seconds. Clearly, you're in shock, so your lack of reciprocation during those five seconds doesn't deter him. You caught up and melted into the affection once the surprise wore off.

Roommate!Toji who knows that despite the drinks he's had, he won't be able to forget the sounds you made when he kissed up your neck. So sweet and honeyed, that it makes his stomach do flips. He could stay there all night, just leaving wet kisses all over your neck, if it means he gets to hear you like this the entire time.

Roommate!Toji who gets his own moment of shock when you lie back on the couch and start pulling up your shirt, revealing your stomach and the bottom of your pretty bra. He doesn't touch you, regardless of how much his mouth is watering and how he's itching to feel your skin beneath his hands. He appreciates the sight and the monster in his pants definitely came to life, but this is a delicate situation. Visual cues are not enough to go off of.

Roommate!Toji who asks many times for your consent, even as you're exposing more of yourself to him and pawing at his thighs. You've both had a few drinks, and though your actions all point to you wanting to do more with him, your word is everything and more. You hear "Is this okay?" "Am I making you uncomfortable?" "Are you sure?" He only continues when every answer you give to his questions is one that corresponds with feeling safe and comfortable enough to go on.

Roommate!Toji who didn't fuck you, but made genuine, caring, spirit binding love to you. He held your hands and made sure that you were fine the entire time. Whenever you would start crying and talking about the things you thought you must have been missing in your ex's eyes for things to end up this way, Toji would kiss your tears away and hush you with quiet murmurs of, "he missed out on you, baby..." "No more crying, pretty girl. He's not worth it..." "You're perfect..." All as he rocked both of you on the couch, luring mutual, gentle pleasure, for what felt like hours.

Roommate!Toji who smothers you with soft kisses when both of you finish for the nth time. He can tell you're on the brink of falling asleep, so he quickly runs to the bathroom to grab a damp towel and comes back to clean you up a little. Once he feels you're as tidy as he can get you with a simple towel, he gets dressed and carries you to your bed. The easy part was finding some underwear and pajamas for you to wear, the not so easy part was getting the clothes on you. You were out of commission, sleeping, already, while Toji was lifting and moving your limbs, trying to get your clothes on.

Roommate!Toji who eventually gets it done and turns you onto your side. The final kiss of the night is placed on your forehead, before he leaves your room.

Roommate!Toji doesn't see or hear from you for two weeks, after that night.

Roommate!Toji thinks maybe he's just not catching you at the right times. He's been following the same schedule he made in his mind, but it seems like you aren't, anymore. When he wakes up to have his morning coffee, he doesn't see you on your way out or catch a gust of that lighter mist you normally wear, and when he's on the couch later at night, skimming the channels for whatever grabs his attention, he doesn't hear your key turning the lock, signaling that you're home, before he goes to bed.

Roommate!Toji who's driving himself crazy with all the overthinking. He hasn't seen you leave or come home for days. For all he knows, you haven't even been staying in the same house. He's unknowingly pacing around the living room, racking his brain to think of what could possibly have happened. He was inviting, he listened to you and comforted you. He was a gentleman and he treated you with the delicacy of someone who's in love. Those feelings shouldn't have been lured out so easily by someone he barely sees—barely knows—but they were, and with you hiding from him, he's left to just suck it up and deal with it.

Roommate!Toji who after a few days of pretending to be stoic and careless about you not being around, feels like a loser as he waits for you to come home one night, like some loyal dog. He plans to stay up until he sees you, again, even if you don't come home until four, five, or six in the morning. He's tired of this heavy feeling in his chest that he shouldn't be feeling at all. He knows he did nothing wrong, but, clearly, there are things to talk about if something scared you off.

Roommate!Toji who hears the familiar sound of the only other key to the house, turning the lock, at two forty-five in the morning. As soon as he gets a look at your tired, pretty face, his blood starts boiling. When you simply say "goodnight" and try to walk away like you normally do, he stops you with a hand tightly wrapped around your wrist. Almost instantly, he becomes aware of how scary the restraining gesture must be to you and lets go.

Roommate!Toji notices the extra tiredness on your face. Not just the 'almost three in the morning' tiredness, but the 'haven't gotten good sleep in a while' tiredness, as well. The bags under your eyes are prominent and your eyes are lidded, like you're fighting to keep them open. He wonders if you're really losing so much sleep just to avoid him.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't stay wondering and asks you every single question he's had about you going around him these past two weeks. He doesn't accept your quick responses and variations of simply being busy. How did you suddenly get so busy once you saw each other naked? It's a pretty big coincidence.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't have the heart to talk to you in a stern manner to express the awful feelings he's had for the last couple weeks. Not when you look so pitifully exhausted, like you're about to drop any second. He lets you go, with the condition being that the conversation will be picked up again the next day. He sees the hesitance on your face, like it's something you don't want to pick up, again, but you agree, anyway, and head off to your room.

Roommate!Toji stays up in bed for a little while longer, wondering about many things regarding you. Will you keep your word and follow through with the conversation in the morning, or will you be gone before he wakes up, again? What made things weird? Why did you make yourself completely invisible as opposed to keeping things the way they were before?

Roommate!Toji whose mind begins to wander when he starts thinking of your pretty face. Even with all the fatigue that currently litters your features, you're gorgeous and flashbacks of that night come to mind. The gloominess on your face when you came home from your time out, the sadness that showed itself as you let him in on a difficult part of your life, and then the hopeful look on your face when he offered to help you. It was the equivalent of a beautiful sunrise, and he would, undoubtedly, kiss you, again, if he were given a chance to redo that moment.

Roommate!Toji who feels pathetic when the front of his boxer briefs start feeling tighter, just at the thought of your face. Though, your expressions were all pretty, that night, they weren't all innocent. He can vividly picture your orgasm face and the sounds that came with it. It's enough for him to impatiently kick off his boxers and use all those images and thoughts of you to alleviate the pressure he's feeling below.

Roommate!Toji whose shame only comes from the fact that he's doing this at three-something in the morning, while you're two rooms down the hall, hopefully, recovering from your lack of sleep. His shame quickly loses its prominence when all the thoughts of you and the stroking motions of his hand cloud his mind. You were the softest, most delicate thing, and every touch, kiss, and more, called for the sweetest croons from you. It truly was a reward whenever his name made it past your lips, in that honeyed voice he can't get enough of. He got to locate the source of that perfume on your skin that makes him feral and he drowned in the loudness of its ambrosial notes.

Roommate!Toji who is unaware of how loud he's being. He thinks he's doing a good job of stifling his sounds, but it's all futile when he reaches his peak and releases all the uncontrolled stuttered breaths and groans. Deep voiced expletives are the only words he can mutter through the euphoric feeling, because your name can't be thrown into his perverted activity. At least not when you're home. Once he blinks open his eyes, and comes down from his post-orgasm haze, he cleans himself up with his boxers and goes to sleep butt naked. He's too tired to get up and change, and it would be pointless since he's going to shower when he gets up, anyway.

Roommate!Toji who leaves his room a few hours later in the morning—after showering, of course—and is surprised to see you sitting at the table on your phone. You look like you're ready to head out for the day, but you're there, as promised, with a steaming mug of coffee in front of you. He finds it funny how long it takes for you to notice he's standing there, but when you do see him, you greet him as you normally do, and this time, you stay. He accepts your offering of coffee and sits in the chair next to you, ready to dive into this possibly awkward conversation.

Roommate!Toji who does not expect you to start out by apologizing, profusely, saying you didn't mean to make it seem like he did something wrong and that you didn't know how to go about seeing him the next day, after everything. He hears you out as you reassure him that your consent for that night stands and that you were fine the morning after. You looked nervous the entire time, like you were expecting him to lash out on you for what you chose to do, instead of just talking to him.

Roommate!Toji takes his part in reassuring you as well. He lets you know that he's not upset with you, anymore, and that when he was, it was out of concern for the amount of time that had gone by without a single notice of you being okay after that night. He reminds you that you have his number, and that anything you don't feel comfortable telling him in person, you could always tell him through text or on the phone, yet, you didn't do either one of those things, and that only further added to his worry of having possibly wronged you in some way.

Roommate!Toji who gets an in depth explanation for why you avoided him, and it's unfortunately rooted to the man who hurt you, emotionally and mentally. You explain that you don't fear commitment, but it's hard to trust people enough to get close. You tell him that he's the first to have seen you in such a vulnerable state since your ex and it was scary to know that you offered such an intimate part of yourself to someone who possibly saw it as just something to simply derive pleasure from. He understood when you elaborated and said that you don't know him well enough and you don't know his intentions, so you figured it was best to keep your distance, before you put yourself into a situation that would leave you feeling like you're being used.

Roommate!Toji who takes what you said into consideration, but also takes advantage of how jittery he feels after finishing his coffee and just sitting there, to admit that he likes you and that he would like to get to know you. His leg is bouncing under the table, but he's definitely not nervous... It's just the caffeine and its weird effect.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't feel the slightest bit disappointed when you tell him that you should get to know each other as friends, first. It kind of stings, considering how much he thinks about you, and he definitely can't pretend like he hasn't seen the body under your clothes, but he's determined to prove that he likes you. If that means more nights spent comforting you when the self doubt starts gnawing at you, again, and assuring you countless times that nothing will ever threaten your safety, then so be it.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

I love how on Tumblr, "media literacy" has become "Um, just because someone writes about this doesn't mean they're endorsing this. I hate all these media puritans ruining everything."

I'm sad to inform you that knowing when and whether an author is endorsing something, implying something, saying something, is also part of media literacy. Knowing when they are doing this and when they're not is part of media literacy. Assuming that no author has ever endorsed a bad thing is how you fall for proper gander. It's not media literacy to always assume that nobody ever has agreed with the morally reprehensible ideas in their work.

Sometimes, authors are endorsing something, and you need to be aware when that happens, and you also need to be aware when you're doing it as an author. All media isn't horny dubcon fanfic where you and the author know it's problematic IRL but you get off to it in the privacy of your brain. Sometimes very smart people can convince you of something that'll hurt others in the real world. Sometimes very dumb people will romanticize something without realizing they're doing it and you'll be caught up in it without realizing that you are.

Being aware of this is also media literacy. Being aware of the narrative tools used to affect your thinking is media literacy. Deciding on your own whether you agree with an author or not is media literacy. Enjoying characters doing bad things and allowing authors to create flawed or cruel characters for the sake of a story is perfectly fine, but it is not the same as being media literate. Being smug about how you never think an author has bad intentions tells me you're edgy, not that you're media literate. You can't use one rule to apply to all media. That's not how media literacy works. Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Aheem heem. Anyway.

[heckling-hydrena]

I have a complicated relationship with the concept of microlabels and more specifically aspec microlabels, because on one hand I have nothing against people who want to use a term that more closely describes their experiences it's literally none of my business good for them etc. but on the other hand I do think that sometimes people feel pushed to use microlabels because there are sooo many misconceptions about what asexuality and aromanticism actually are. so for example people who are just discovering their identity will try to connect with other aspecs, realize their experiences don't fully match every other aspec's experiences and get insecure, and that leads to interactions like "is it normal that I'm aromantic but I like shipping and romcoms?" "that actually means you're aegoromantic!" like it doesn't have to! it literally doesn't have to you don't have to identify as aego you can just call yourself aromantic! I feel like it would be way more productive to put effort into dispelling the idea that there's a 'proper' way to be asexual/aromantic instead of creating a microlabel for every experience that doesn't match common stereotypes.

and I'm gonna talk about asexuality specifically here because asexuality is still talked about so much more often (sorry to the aroallo warriors out there) but we've, and I can only assume this is a consequence of the stupid fucking ace discourse, internalized this weird idea that anyone who doesn't 100% fit into the category of 'never felt sexual attraction ever + no libido + sex-repulsed + never even THINKS about sex' either needs to use a microlabel or maybe even isn't really asexual. I've genuinely seen people ask "can I be asexual if I masturbate" "can I be asexual if I think this fictional character is hot" like YES? YES OBVIOUSLY? who is making you feel like you can't call yourself asexual point them out in the crowd for me tell me their name and their home address.

not to mention the fringe group of idiots (and I'll be real it's mostly weirdo terfs saying this shit) who are like "ohhh I feel bad for the REAL asexuals IF they even EXIST because these STRAIGHT people who don't put out on the first date are HIJACKING their community" which pisses me off so bad every time I see it. who the fuck are you to speak for me? keep your forked tongue behind your teeth etc etc.

like idk! people are totally allowed to call themselves aceflux and quoiromantic and fray and litho and whatever they want, but they should never feel like they have to! and it's become abundantly clear that some are being made to feel like they have to.