#but the rest of it is absolutely incredible

[elialys]

THE NEWSREADER | 3.03 | Helen x Dale - "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

[syluslnd]

Hooray!! Your request are open again 🎉🎉 I absolutely adore your works. It's a chef kiss 😩🤌

Anyway, my request is Sylus bought a cabin in the woods to surprise reader. Just for two things, first reader really needs a break because she's been working way too much. And two, Sylus wants to "make love" with her and to hear her scream.

(Go crazy on how you want to write it. Thank you! I hope you understand what I mean right 😉😉)

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The drive through the woods had been long but the moment you arrived, you understood why Sylus had kept this place a secret.

The house was beautiful-elegant yet secluded, nestled deep in the forest where no one else could reach. Tall windows framed the landscape, letting in the golden glow of the evening sun. Everything was silent except for the faint rustling of trees, the scent of pine and fresh air filling your lungs.

"Sylus this is... incredible" you murmured, stepping through the grand entrance. The floors gleamed under the soft lighting and everything about the interior screamed luxurious, carefully curated and undeniably intentional.

Sylus shut the door behind you, his presence unmistakable even before he spoke. "I knew you'd like it" he said, his voice smooth as he stepped closer. "A private getaway,just for us."

There was something in his tone— something knowing.

You didn't catch onto it at first, too mesmerized by the sheer elegance of the space. But then, your eyes caught something unexpected. Rose petals.

Scattered along the pristine floor, creating a path deeper into the house.

Your breath hitched slightly.

Sylus smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Go on sweetie" he murmured, nudging you forward.

"Follow them."

Your heart pounded as you slowly walked down the petal-covered path, leading you toward what you now realized was a bedroom.

And that's when it clicked.

This wasn't just a getaway.

It was his plan all along.

The bedroom was breathtaking-grand, with a massive bed draped in silk sheets. But what truly made you pause were the other details— a blindfold resting on the pillows, delicate ropes placed neatly on the bedside table and a selection of items you couldn't even process all at once.

Your entire body flushed with heat.

"You planned this" you accused softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sylus finally stepped in behind you, his hands settling on your waist, his breath warm against your ear. "Of course I did" he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

"Did you really think I brought you all the way out here just for the scenery?"

You swallowed, heat curling in your stomach as he slowly turned you around to face him.

His crimson eyes held that unmistakable glint-the one that told you there was no escaping whatever he had in store.

"You're being quiet" Sylus teased, tilting his head as he studied your flustered expression. "Shy all of a sudden?"

You opened your mouth to protest but Sylus simply took control before you could even attempt to regain composure.

He took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "No need to act innocent now” he murmured.

"You know exactly what this is."

His other hand trailed down your arm, his fingertips brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver.

"Sylus..." you started, your voice breathy, unsure whether you were trying to object or encourage him.

His smirk deepened. "That's not a no" he mused.

Before you could speak again, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bed like you weighed nothing. Your heart pounded as he placed you down onto the silk sheets, his figure towering over you.

His hands moved with purpose-tracing down your arms, reaching for the soft ropes he had so meticulously prepared on the table next to the bed. "I think" he mused, his voice laced with amusement,

"that it's about time I show you just how much fun we're going to have in this little hideaway."

Your breath hitched as he reached for the blindfold, his touch slow and deliberate.

"Be good for me” he murmured, voice dark with promise.

And then, just like that, control slipped from your hands entirely.

The silk of the blindfold pressed against your skin, shrouding your world in darkness. Your breath came slow and uneven, heart hammering in anticipation as Sylus secured it in place.

Then—a click.

Something cold slipped around your wrist.

Metal.

You flinched slightly at the sensation, instinctively tugging but your movement was met with resistance.

Handcuffs.

A soft, breathy giggle escaped you—a nervous reaction you hadn't meant to let out.

Sylus chuckled darkly in response. "That was a cute sound” he mused. "Are you nervous already?"

You swallowed hard, unsure whether to answer. Not that it mattered. He already knew.

Your other wrist met the same fate—a second click, binding you completely. The cold bite of metal against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your stomach.

Sylus took his time adjusting the cuffs, making sure they were snug but not painful.

Purposeful. Precise. He wanted you to feel every ounce of control he had over you.

"You trust me, don't you?" he murmured.

His tone was dangerous-not in a way that suggested harm, but in a way that warned you. You belonged to him now, and he was going to remind you of that in ways you couldn't yet fathom.

You nodded slowly.

His fingers trailed down your arm, the barest whisper of touch, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Good” he praised, his voice smooth as silk. "Then don't fight me."

Your breath caught as the mattress dipped he was leaning over you now, his presence all-consuming.

Then-something else.

Something soft but sturdy brushed against your thigh. Fabric?

The sound of something unrolling reached your ears before you felt it.

Silk restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you as he secured one to your ankle. His fingers grazed your skin, lingering longer than necessary, teasing, making sure you felt every moment of your surrender.

He took his time. Meticulous. Unhurried. In control.

"You're awfully quiet now" Sylus murmured, his voice filled with dark amusement.

"Where's that little attitude of yours?"

Your lips parted but before you could say a word, he did something unexpected.

A soft, cool sensation trailed across your collarbone, lower, lower

ice

you don’t know where he got it from,if it was his evol or if he had those specifically chilled and ready for you there,like it was his plan all along

everything perfectly calculated for you

A shiver wracked through your body as Sylus dragged the melting cube along your skin, tracing slow patterns, watching your every reaction. The contrast of cold against heat made you gasp, your back arching involuntarily.

He hummed in approval.

"You're too sensitive" he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I like that."

He let the ice melt a bit against your skin before pressing his lips to your collarbone , replacing the sting of cold with the warmth of his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath, bound, blindfolded and completely at his mercy only intensified everything

Sylus chuckled softly, fingers trailing dangerously close to where he knew you wanted his touch the most-but deliberately avoiding it.

"You're mine" he murmured, his voice dark with possession. "and I think it's about time you start understanding what that truly means."

And with that, the real torment began.

he placed the ice on your stomach

the ice was melting, sending thin rivulets of cold water down your skin, yet Sylus took his time. Dragging. Teasing. Lingering.

"You're shaking”he murmured, amusement thick in his voice. "Too cold? Or is this little girl just too sensitive?"

You didn't answer but your breath hitched as he traced the ice lower, skimming along your ribs. The contrast of frigid cold against your overheated skin made your entire body tense but you couldn’t move-not with his silk restraints keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

Sylus hummed in satisfaction. "So reactive” he mused. "You weren't this quiet earlier."

Your lips parted but before you could protest, he did something cruel.

The ice cube-nearly gone now-dragged over the softest part of your stomach,near your bellybutton making you jerk against the restraints.

A sharp inhale escaped you and Sylus laughed.

"Look at you" he mocked, shifting to brush his lips against your ear, his voice nothing but a dark whisper. "So helpless. So at my mercy."

Your pulse thundered beneath your skin.

Then, he did it again—a deliberate, icy stroke into your bellybutton, followed by the sudden, searing warmth of his tongue as he chased away the cold.

You whimpered, the combination almost unbearable.

"Poor thing" Sylus crooned, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Did that feel too good?"

You turned your head away, refusing to answer but that only made his smirk sharpen.

"Oh?" He chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to the edge of your jaw. "You're trying to be defiant now? How adorable."

You felt his fingers skim along your side near your ribs, featherlight, teasing you without ever giving you what you truly craved.

"Don't pout” he murmured. "You should've known what would happen the moment you let me tie you up, sweetheart."

His hand drifted lower, fingertips just barely grazing the inside of your thigh before pulling away. You shivered-from the loss, from the anticipation, from the overwhelming awareness that he was in complete control.

"You want more, don't you?" Sylus whispered. "I can hear it in your breathing."

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your ears.

His hand returned, this time squeezing your thigh firmly, his nails grazing your skin.

"Beg” he ordered, voice smooth but commanding. "Or l'll leave you here like this, desperate and untouched."

Your breath hitched—the threat wasn't empty.

Sylus never bluffed.

You knew that if you refused, he'd make good on his word and leave you aching, craving, unsatisfied.

'Please” you whispered, barely audible.

Sylus tilted his head. "That was pathetic" he drawled. "You can do better than that."

You clenched your jaw, heat rushing to your face.

Sylus smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. "Beg. Properly."

Your stomach twisted in both humiliation and desire. He was enjoying this— stretching the moment, testing you, making you surrender inch by inch.

"Please, Sylus" you finally said, voice unsteady.

His fingers dug into your thigh, just enough to make you gasp.

"Good girl" he murmured, satisfaction lacing his tone. "Now let's see how much more you can take."

And with that, the ice drifted even lower.

Sylus held the last sliver of melting ice between his fingers, tilting his head as he watched you. Bound, blindfolded, completely at his mercy-just the way he liked you.

You shivered, not just from the cold but from the sheer anticipation.

"You're trembling” he mused, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Are you scared?

Or just that sensitive?"

You bit your lip, refusing to answer.

Sylus chuckled darkly. "Still trying to act defiant? That's cute."

You gasped as he suddenly pressed the ice against your pussy, the shock of cold making you jerk against the restraints.

"Careful" he warned, his grip tightening around your leg, keeping you still. "Unless you want me to punish you for squirming."

The ice dragged upward, inch by torturous inch. Too slow. Too deliberate.

Too much.

Your breath hitched as he reached your clit, lingering there just to watch you squirm.

Sylus hummed in amusement. "You're shaking so much” he teased. "and I haven't even started."

He traced slow, agonizing circles with the ice, making sure the chill seeped into your skin, making you hyperaware of every movement.

Then-he pressed his lips directly on your clit,leaving slow warm kisses

The sudden warmth of his mouth contrasted sharply with the lingering cold, making you gasp.

Sylus chuckled against your pussy, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Poor thing" he mocked, nipping at your thigh. "I bet you don't even know whether to pull away or beg for more."

You whimpered, your body betraying you.

His free hand traced lazily over your other thigh, nails grazing just enough to make your breath catch.

"You're so responsive” he mused, almost to himself. "Every little touch, every little tease and you're already falling apart."

He pressed the last remnant of ice directly against your clit all while leaving slimy deliberate kisses on your inner thigh

Your whole body tensed, a choked gasp slipping past your lips.

Sylus smirked, watching you struggle. "You want me to stop?" he asked, a mockery of concern in his voice. "Or do you want more?"

You hesitated—a mistake.

Sylus clicked his tongue. "Ah. I see."

Before you could react, he pressed the ice even deeper this time,no longer harassing your clit but now sending shockwaves of cold to the inside of your warm vagina

The melting water dripped, sending chills through your already overstimulated nerves.

You jerked, instinctively trying to close your legs-but Sylus's iron grip stopped you.

"Ah, ah” he murmured, spreading you wider instead. "No running now, sweetheart."

You whimpered, your body betraying you again.

Sylus leaned in, lips grazing your ear. "You should know by now” he murmured, voice dark with amusement. "I don't stop until I'm satisfied."

[hotvintagepoll]

LAST POLL OF ROUND 4

Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant (Holiday, Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story)—They're both unspeakably hot and putting them together only makes them that much hotter. Because physically attractive people are WAY hotter when they're also incredibly funny, and both of them are. They play off each other to perfection, and I could eat them both ❤️

Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing (The Curse of Frankenstein, The Horror of Dracula)—Obviously never canon romantic but the definition of toxic old man yaoi. Whether it's the look on Lee's face as Dracula about to bite Van Helsing in "Horror Of Dracula" (1958) or Cushing destroying his life and engagement to create Lee's monster in "Curse Of Frankenstein" (1957). Such a popular team that the "Dracula" sequel lifted their final fight from the original and used it as a prologue even though Cushing isn't in the rest of the film.

This is round 4 of a mini tournament. Each poll lasts for a week. Please reblog with propaganda for your favorite hot couple. To vote in all the polls, click here.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Hepburn and Grant:

Truly two of the hottest people ever to grace our screens and when you put them together, it's volcanic. They are totally magnetic on screen together, with the perfect love/hate chemistry. The ultimate 'you drive me crazy' couple, no one is doing it like them.

They are delight and joy and ALSO insanely hot together. Friendships have ended over the ship war of The Philadelphia Story, and you know what? Valid.

They are the hottest couple because they are clever, witty and beautiful. They spark off each other magnificently.

I feel like they’re almost too obvious to bother submitting but I’ve made that mistake before so Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. I present Bringing Up Baby and The Philadelphia Story as evidence, your honor

Perfect onscreen match in some of the greatest romcoms ever. My, they were yar!

Cary Grant & Katherine Hepburn! They're my favorites! Dapper & ridiculous both!

I'm sorry, that's not a very romantic pic, but I had to include the serenading the leopard

and the fluffy bathrobe!

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee:

Not exactly propaganda but I received this ask after Cushing and Lee's submission:

oh, I completely missed the qualifiers for the couples poll! Nevemind. Unless we count characters attempting to murder one another in multiple movies as peak couple behavior, Cushing and Lee tragically don’t qualify.

Editor's note: in this case I'll absolutely count that as romantic.

[doberbutts]

Oh, yes, there was a part two of this that I decided to leave off because it was already long enough, but that was more or less the gist of it.

It's odd to me that us saying we need access to medical care and we are affected by misogyny and we don't want to be forced to walk away from everything we've worked for prior to transition is taken as evidence of us wanting to exclude trans women or evidence of siding with transphobic and transmisogynistic logic.

Outside of medical care, absolutely no where in my original writeup did I say anything about us needing access on the basis of having a vagina and thus being "more woman"- in fact, I stated the opposite within the medical care section. I have not been sterilized, so I need access to care for the anatomy I still have. A trans woman who has undergone bottom surgery, an intersex trans woman who was born with vagina, ovaries, or uterus, or various nonbinary and intersex people regardless of their presentation and gender also need access to this care if they have the anatomy for it. A trans man who has had bottom surgery and sterilization which removes all internal and external gonads outside of the new phallus, and a perisex trans woman who hasn't, don't need this access in the same way. I need this access currently, but perhaps in the future I will not. A friend of mine does not need this access currently, but perhaps in the future she will.

Other social services I've already said should be co-ed. The problem of homeless shelters turning away trans men is often the same problem of homeless shelters turning away trans women. And it kills people- as we've seen with the trans woman found frozen to death on a church's doorstep because the Salvation Army would only let her in if she agreed to be grouped with the men. Detransition, or die. For many of us, death is the preferable option.

I'm glad there are trans girls within the Girl Scouts! I'm glad we have trans women competing in women's sports, I'm happy for the trans women often spearheading initiatives to raise women up from the mire that is societal misogyny! I think the world is a brighter place to have them! In no way do I think that a trans man's requested access should be paired with the ejection of trans women from the same space.

I used to dance at my local rec center as a child. Initially tap, then ballet, then jazz. These classes were marked as co-ed, but there were only girls in my age group the entire time I attended. There were a small amount of boys in other age groups, but never more than one or two per class. Ballet and dance in general is often seen as a woman's hobby, and what boys are present are often assumed to be gay by outsiders due to proximity with the feminine.

I also lived in an incredibly conservative, homophobic, transphobic, misogynistic area. I stopped dancing there before I came out, but if I had come out during my time there, there is no way I would have been allowed to continue dancing as a boy. I would have been told that I was not welcome- if not by my instructor, then by the other parents. And I do not doubt that had any of these boys in the other classes actually been transgender girls yet to realize themselves, they also would have been ejected.

In college I began dancing again, this time with a small group of line, swing, and square dancers who gathered in a local church basement. At times, I dipped my toes into the waltz and the tango. By then, I was binding, I'd cut my hair short, and all of my friends knew me by Jaz and he/him. But I was still living under my parents' thumb- and the people hosting the gathering knew my parents well. So I held my tongue as they separated me into the women's section, exclusively pairing me with male partners for couples' dances, always following and never leading.

And, equally, I would not have been allowed to stay if I had spoken up. And, equally, neither would a friend of mine, at that time convinced she was a cishet man but the rest of the friend group had caught on quite quickly. If she had figured herself out back then, instead of a few years later, if we had swapped places, and I had led while she followed in the dance? We would have been told we were not welcome to come back next week.

Detransition, stay quiet, or do without. If you want to dance, these are your options. You can't be you, if you want to dance with the others.

It would be nice if an LGBTQ dance group equivalent existed. But it didn't, not within reachable distance from me, not 15 years ago. So I could dance with the homophobic, transphobic Christians as someone I wasn't, or I could stop dancing entirely. And my friend could do the same, and watch as I occupied the space she craved, while I mirrored her when it was her turn on the floor.

The thing about women and girls being at risk of sexual predators and not being given the same access to resources? Trans women are included in that! Because the option once again is detransition, stay deeply closeted, or do without. Die, even, if "do without" will kill you.

Schrodinger's gender? The first time I used the phrase was to discuss that case of the trans woman who was unable to get her gender marker changed, changed her shirt in a parking lot, was arrested for public indecency, and then placed in a men's prison. She was too much of a man to change her gender marker but not enough of a man to allow her to be topless in public. She was too much of a woman to escape criminal charges, but not enough of a woman to keep her out of a men's prison. She was whatever gender would hurt her most in the moment. Even if that gender changed sentence by sentence.

I know a trans woman who went as a gay man for a very long time. She did not change her name, but did pursue medical transition. And, honestly, she was always kind of "one of the girls" in the way that many incredibly feminine gay men tend to be. She managed to skirt my homophobic school's bans on homosexuality by pretending it was just a bit, that she actually was a ladies man and that all the girls constantly hanging off of her were her various girlfriends or girlfriend-hopefuls. The girls, of course, knew her attraction was exclusively towards men, but they rallied around her nonetheless.

She still, to this day, occupies gay male spaces. Sometimes she even sleeps with gay men. I don't see much of a point on chasing her out, either. Like my butch friend, she found a group of people who love and cherish her, and she is a bit reluctant to burn 20 years of her life. I think that's fair. I don't see any harm in her staying, or any good in rejecting her for the sin of being a woman where you're expected to be a man.

And it would be lovely, if instead of deciding I'm saying that I think trans men are women or have more reason to be included in these spaces than trans women, I could be listened to when I say "why don't we stop rejecting people on the basis of gender" in the first place. Why is my "I need access to this" taken as "so you need to leave"? Why can't we both occupy this space, together?

With this latest round of discourse being "trans men shouldn't complain about being kicked out of women's spaces", I felt the urge to write up a relatively long post regarding the topic, as I feel it is a long tangled mess and involves a significant amount of people simply talking past each other.

To begin, what is a woman's space? I ask this, because "women's spaces" often fall under one of three categories: medical services, social services, and social gatherings. Of the three, trans men need access to nearly everything if not everything included within "medical services" and "social services". These things often need to be considered co-ed anyway, but are still considered "for women" and often are labeled things like "women's health" or "women's defense". Social gatherings- things such as book clubs, concerts, festivals, and other similar outings- can have a nuanced and complicated history when it comes to the inclusion, or exclusion, of trans men.

As an example- I am a binary, gay trans man who has not yet been sterilized. If I become pregnant and need to seek out social services, I must do so via my provider's "Women and Babies" department. I am neither of those things, and yet regardless of whether I am completing or terminating the pregnancy, I must label myself a woman in order to receive care. If I wish to have a pap smear, receive birth control, or investigate my chances of ovarian and cervical cancer, I must do so via the "Women's Health Clinic". I am not a woman, but I must label myself as one in order to discuss sterilization options. Many trans men who have had their gender markers changed prior to sterilization have reported difficulty even booking an appointment, as well as difficulty convincing their insurance to pay for this appointment due to a discrepancy with gender markers vs gendered care. Many have discussed the realities of being a pregnant man, whether they remained pregnant until their child was born, or whether they terminated said pregnancy with an abortion.

It should come as no surprise that the statistics for trans men receiving quality gynecological care are abysmal. It should be equally unsurprising to hear how many trans men have died from botched abortions, untreated miscarriages, infections and cancers of the uterus and cervix and ovaries, and complications during pregnancy or birth. We belong in this space, despite it being labeled "for women", and the only thing pushing us out has done is quite literally what's been killing us.

This is, of course, not even taking into account the numbers of trans men who have been forced to become pregnant via their husbands or families as a means to detransition them, and those who have become pregnant as a result of corrective rape. There is a saying among trans men of my age- it isn't "we all know a guy this has happened to", it's "which of us haven't experienced this? who among us doesn't fear this? who will it happen to next?"

Which brings me to my next point: women's social services. As with women's medical care, nearly everything labeled "for women" as a social service must be inclusive to trans men. Shelters for domestic violence survivors, rape crisis centers, self defense classes, family planning, these are all things that honestly should already be co-ed. But, many times, they are exclusively targeted towards women. I understand why, I do. But with trans men being statistically more likely than cis women to experience the need for these services, it seems a cruelty to close their doors to a vulnerable demographic reaching out for help.

Where should trans men in crisis go? Shutting the door to us without addressing the reason we need to access these resources gives us a single ultimatum: detransition, or die. Go back to being a woman, or die knowing the likelihood that a woman's name will adorn your headstone, and "daughter, wife, mother" will be said in your obituary. Much like the medical services, this incomplete answer has lead many trans men to their deaths. Whether by their own hands, or by their attackers'.

But there are other social services out there that perhaps are not as dire. Women's scholarships, colleges, all girls schools. Girl Scouts, women's sport leagues, gym memberships. Trans men don't need access to these, right?

Well... is the trans man in question out? Has he been living as a man, or is he still closeted? Is it safe for him to come out? Does he pass, or has he just bought his first binder and given himself his first buzz cut? Is he living under the control of his parents, or is he able to freely decide for himself the type of person he'd like to be and the type of life he'd like to live?

You see, I was a Girl Scout once. And, if we are to believe to our core that trans men are men even before they know the words "transgender", this means I was a boy in a girl's space. I didn't know that being transgender was an option for me at the point where my troop disbanded, and another leader to replace the first within my local area was not found until after I had aged out.

But also... I was in 7th grade when my troop disbanded. Two years later, I would learn the word "transgender", and suddenly everything would make sense. Two years later, I would come out to my parents and my sisters. To put this into perspective, I graduated high school in 2010. The Boy Scouts officially allowed cisgender girls and transgender people of all genders to join all programs in 2019.

I was not expelled from my Girl Scout troop. My leader simply stopped showing up to meetings, and my troop disbanded to go our separate ways when leadership could not find someone quickly enough to replace her. But... if this had not happened, I would have been a recently out transgender boy in a girl's social service, still wearing push up bras and frilly shirts because that's all my parents would buy me until I became an adult and moved out and had a job with my own money to re-purchase myself a wardrobe. Indistinguishable from any of the others, outside of what went on inside my own mind.

I would not have been accepted into the Boy Scouts, if Girl Scouts had been taken from me as abruptly as it was from a different transgender boy in the same state I was born and raised. Which would have left me with... nothing. Neither. And the only reason I even joined the Girl Scouts was because I had wanted to join the Boy Scouts and the local troop had refused to allow me, because they had labeled me a girl.

I don't believe I'm the one that coined Schrodinger's Gender, but I do reference it often. In this situation, one is both a boy when it hurts, and a girl when it hurts. Even if that gender label changes by the second, the point is to use your gender and your assigned sex to hurt you.

But then, why do these services even have to be gendered to begin with? After all, Boy Scouts just updated to be The Scouts, and has removed (on paper) the insistence on gendering.

Well... I certainly agree that the majority of gendering these services is at this point a concept that needs to be reformed, but I'm unconvinced that we will be able to completely integrate without addressing the reason they were segregated by gender in the first place.

Women's gym memberships are gender segregated for two reasons. Women and girls- and anyone labeled as women and girls, regardless of true identity- are frequently not afforded the same access to resources as cisgender men and boys. Women and girls- and anyone labeled such- are frequently at high risk of predatory sexual behavior and physical violence. Both of these problems are symptoms of a larger system of misogyny at play, and both of these problems directly affect trans men especially those who have not transitioned in a way that makes them pass for cis men.

Regardless of the truth of my identity, the reality is that I was seen as and treated as a girl when it came to physical fitness, and thus barred from the same activities freely offered to the boys. Regardless of the truth of my identity, I have experienced predatory sexual behavior from cis men as young as 8 or 9 years old, continuing past when I came out and began to transition socially.

If the problem is not addressed, cis women cannot re-integrate with cis men. But, additionally, if the problem is not addressed, the choice still remains clear for trans men. Detransition, stay closeted, or go without.

A common complaint of trans men is the invisibility and erasure our demographic faces. It should be easy to see why this happens. The problem of a misogynistic society is one that continues to this day, and without addressing the problem we cannot hope for success in creating a more inclusive space. At the same time, trans men are being pushed out and isolated as they realize they must make a choice.

As for social gatherings, such as a woman's retreat or a woman's music festival? Of course, it may sound odd to say that a trans man should feel welcome there. But the truth of the matter is the majority of the trans men asking for the ability to stay are trans men who have been within that space for years already, prior to coming out, prior to realizing some things about their genders, prior to taking their first steps as men.

I'm pretty good friends with an older butch who told me that I am the first person they ever told that they were a nonbinary man. This person is in their 50s. They're married. But the wife doesn't like it, and they love their wife too much to cause friction in the relationship, so they keep it to themselves, and they keep quiet, and they don't say anything about being transgender, but in their head they aren't a woman. This person is not a woman, by their own insistence. Should this person be forcibly ejected from their local lesbian community, which they and the wife helped form decades ago? Should they divorce their wife, since that would make her not a lesbian anymore?

What harm is it, truly, to allow this person to stay? Social isolation kills people. The trans man suicide statistics are just as abysmal as any of the others I've mentioned here. Forcing someone to burn 20, 30, 40 years of their lives and their friends and their achievements because they are finally living as themselves is a deeply hurtful and isolating experience.

The majority of trans men asking to be included in these spaces are not trans men like me- who never really jived with the idea of womanhood and distanced ourselves as much as possible the moment we saw the opportunity. They are men like my friend, often existing outside of the binary, often with a deep love and appreciation for womanhood despite realizing that perhaps the label does not fit them as well as they once thought. They often have many years of connection, entire lives spent intwined in these spaces.

What good does it do to chase them out? What harm does it to do let them stay?

[ricochetyears]

i’m all about any band au with marauders, but for some reason i have a special soft spot for sirius, the lead singer, who’s not rocking a mick jagger/david bowie vibe, but more of a stevie nicks/florence welch kinda look

it’s great with cis man sirius, but it works even cooler if he’s trans or genderfluid. like, i’m lowkey obsessed with sirius rocking messy long curls, cool makeup, fringed shawls, corset tops, ruffled skirts, and fingerless gloves

yeah, he’s dope as a synth-pop star, but just imagine… he’d absolutely kill it as a blues-rock legend, singing and somehow pulling off these incredibly graceful dance moves, because i think he’d totally get lost in the performance. fans and even the rest of the band wouldn’t be able to comprehend how he’s doing it all—his hands, his hips, the fluidity and ethereal beauty he brings to the stage

i also think he'd look amazing with a tambourine. and in a relationship with this incredible bassist, remus (even better if it’s like, a super early marriage they got into while working on their, let’s say, second album, you know?). like, they’re completely head over heels for each other, and on stage, sirius just can’t stay away from remus. he’s always acting like he’s messing with the strings of remus’ bass guitar, but really, he’s just leaning in to giggle with him in the middle of the show

thanks for coming to my ted talk, i guess. i’m gonna go back to my cage now

[prttylight]

Sebastian Vettel with Schumacher daughter? Age Gap/Forbidden love affair?

SV5 ★ secrets and kisses

★ Summary: Sebastian adored being your boyfriend, even if that meant lying to his idol. In where Sebastian and you, the daughter of Michael Schumacher, are in a secret relationship.

★ Sebastian Vettel x Schumacher Daughter. ★ Forbidden Love. Fluff. Kisses. ★ im thinking in a second part

You barely remember Seb as a child, not that you should feel guilty about that, life was busy then and there were so many people in your life that it was hard to keep him so present years later. But for Seb, your existence was still in the back of his mind, even after all this time; when you met again in the paddock, it was instantaneous, the feeling, the looks and the speed of your heartbeats were synchronized. Every night before you went to sleep you thought about all the things Seb had said during the day, their fleeting encounters and the interviews he gave after the races. Even though the feelings were there at first sight, the road to stability was a little slower. 

Every time they saw each other, they were surrounded by other pilots, which kept them together, since despite their age difference, they were still among the youngest. This gave them an excuse to spend more time together, but it should be made clear that even if the conversations were fluid and they always had a great time together, both kept their desires buried deep in their hearts and only let themselves be seen under the fascination of their eyes whenever they met. You could say that the mask of a mere friendly relationship was broken when Seb gave you a kiss on the cheek at one of the many parties, as innocent as it was, it changed everything for you. 

His rosy cheeks and the disappearance of Seb's self—confident attitude made you rest your lips on his. Fleeting, sweet and full of experiences to be discovered. That same night, on the balcony covered with plants, the German asked you to go out with him and you accepted. 

Almost half a year had passed since that first date when you and Seb became engaged and you couldn't be happier. Of course, it had its complications, the schedules of a Formula 1 driver and a college student with panic attacks about failing were not easy to manage, and there was another little problem. Hiding it from your father, Michael Schumacher. You weren't sure how your father, who had previously warned you that F1 drivers were a no—go area (and to be honest, you hadn't been that interested until Seb's arrival), would react, and on top of that, your father was your boyfriend's biggest idol and absolutely refused to let him down. For these reasons, your dates consisted of meetings in your car with fast food or simple walks listening to music during the weekends that you had a career (although it was not always possible because many times you did not accompany your father), while during the week they usually met in your apartment. It was no big deal, a small apartment that you had asked your parents for, with the excuse that you wanted to be closer to the university and that it was hard for you to concentrate at home with your siblings, they accepted on the condition that you could provide your own food. So, in addition to all the obstacles that were placed in front of your relationship, there were the hours of tutoring that you offered to the children in order to feed yourself. But it was all worth it. You were privileged, and having an apartment to meet Seb was an incredible advantage in your secret relationship. 

—You're coming to Monaco,” Seb asked, sitting on the floor as they ate at your coffee table in front of the TV. 

—Should I? I have a couple of essays due—Seb looked at you as you pursed your lips, you seemed to be thinking about it—But if I bring my computer I should come.

Your boyfriend smiled and unconsciously his shoulders shrugged in happiness. 

—That's good, we'll be able to sneak out in the evening—and slightly tilting towards your body with a mischievous smile he added—and I can help you with your homework. 

—Yes, sure. Homework—you rolled your eyes and Seb laughed quietly as he ate. He was so happy that his cheeks were red and sore. 

                                                     ──────────────────

The weather in Monaco was nice, you were wearing a tank top and an ankle—length blue skirt, a cool wind was blowing in from the balcony of your room and you decided to add a black jacket just in case the weather got even colder. Your younger brother looked at you with an arched eyebrow when you added pearl earrings to your outfit.

—Are you going out?" your brother questioned, not taking his eyes off his mobile phone.

—Yep — you didn't lie. You checked that everything was in your bag, and before you left you glanced briefly at your brother, "Don't stay playing and go out to dinner, at least with dad.

He nodded and you left the room walking down the corridors of the hotel with a smile on your face. As soon as you reached the lobby you spotted your dad talking to his friends and among them, Seb. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood and was joking loudly, you approached slowly and your boyfriend was the first one to see you with a little wave of his hand, which your father turned away from. Just as everyone was joking, they also greeted you. You approached your father just to say hello and let him know that you were going out with friends, you lied. He nodded, whispering to take care of yourself and not to come back late, you shook your head in agreement and before you left, you glanced briefly at Seb, whose eyes were, as usual in your presence, sparkling.

The plan was the same every race weekend, you would leave a few minutes early with the excuse that you would spend the night with your friends or colleagues, you would wait a few minutes a block away from the hotel they were staying at and Seb would come by with his car to pick you up and spend the evening together. It was one of their favourite activities to eat snacks in the car while they were driving and then they would buy food to take away and enjoy the evening in a prominent place in the city where the race was taking place.

You waited a few minutes on a well—lit corner and before you could even get bored of looking at the beautiful golden poles, Seb appeared in front of you with his rented car. You quickly hopped off the curb and opened the car door, Seb grabbed your bag as you settled into the seat and left a kiss on your cheek. You buckled in and he rested your bag on your lap.

—Ready?" Seb raised his eyebrows as if they were about to run a race.

—You grabbed the handle of your bag and Seb pulled away, smiling.

—You don't know," he asked as if it were obvious as he averted his eyes from the road for half a second to give you one of his cocky smiles, "We're going to spend our dinner at the best place in Monaco.

You pursed your lips into a smile; he was always so self—confident, so confident of making you nervous with the simplest acts that he managed to leave you speechless. You swallowed as you watched him turn down the streets of Monaco, he always drove with one hand and it would hurt your pride to accept how handsome he looked when he did.

—By the way, congratulations on passing the General Psychology exam — Seb congratulated you and that made your heart pound, but without thinking too much you shouted.

—How do you know that? I wanted to tell you at dinner," you stammered awkwardly, slapping his thigh; at your reaction Seb laughed hysterically, realising that it wasn't you who had told him, "You were guessing?

—No, no, honey," your heart trembled slightly at the nickname, before Seb continued laughing and tapped the steering wheel gently as he parked in front of a beautiful restaurant. He entangled his hands and with a kiss he placed on your forehead, he added, "Michael's been bragging about it all afternoon.

You gasped at the thought of your father bragging to his friends about something as mundane as passing an exam, especially in front of Seb. You covered your face with the palm of your hands and when you opened your mouth to moan, Seb spoke again.

—And I think you should too.

You frowned uncomprehendingly as you pulled your hands away from his face.

—What?

—You know, bragging, being proud of what you accomplish—Seb shrugged but his gaze was steady—You should be more proud of your accomplishments, I am. Every time we meet and you tell me how you've been studying so hard and how well you've done, it just makes me so happy.

You fluttered your eyelashes not believing what you were hearing, your hand trembled and being held still by Seb noticed the slight movement and tilted his head leaving another kiss on your cheek.

—I'm going to get our food." Seb got out of the car, the heat that had formed between his hands slowly subsided but the tingling did not. You felt yourself swallow hard before you threw yourself down on the seat laughing and wiggling your feet, Seb liked it so much that the only thing you wanted at that moment was for him to feel that way too.

                                          ──────────────────

The night in Monaco was quieter than you would think. They had settled near a park, which due to the timetable was closed and they couldn't walk around. Having finished all your food we took the opportunity to rest your legs on Seb's lap with your back against the door. You were telling him about one of the many dramas of your university. Even if he pretended not to, Seb loved drama and even more so if it didn't involve him.

—I swear she rejected him, and he was really angry — you waved your hands dramatising the whole situation.

—That's not very nice," Seb commented. "Obviously being rejected isn't the best experience, but getting angry at the person I doubt it makes it any better.

—Exactly! And then he accused her of taking advantage of him and threw the ice cream on her dress—you paused and slapped your thigh hard—God, an ice cream Seb! If someone really did that to me they wouldn't have any hairs left to pluck.

—That's really awful, but now that you mention it," Seb began, registering your curious stare, "It's time for us to go get some ice cream.

Lowering your legs off his body you both celebrated your successful night with loud music and silly singing, at a traffic light you came to ask him.

—How are you feeling about the weekend," Seb hadn't mentioned the subject all night which surprised you, it's not like he could tell you the team's strategies but he kept a pretty wide berth for the expression of his feelings about racing. Seb scratched the back of his neck and, with his eyes on the road, replied.

—I'm not sure... For some reason everyone seems so interested in winning in Monaco that the fact that it's not so special to me keeps me... Confused.

—Seb... I can assure you that Monaco is not that important, I mean no more than other races," you assured with a confidence that made your boyfriend grimace, "Really, you'll do fine.

—Well, if a Schumacher says so, I guess I'll just have to listen to him," Seb's car got closer and closer to the busy streets of Monaco and as soon as they found a place to park for ice cream they pulled over with smiles already formed from anticipation. Opening the car door, you didn't hold back your comment.

—Of course, the winning instinct is in my blood," you exclaimed, putting your foot on the floor and looking up, and before you could warn him, you grabbed Seb's elbow to pull him into the car and slammed the door abruptly shut, stowing yourself in the safety of the car. Seb, who still didn't understand, screamed.

 You covered his mouth with your palm only to direct your eyes a few metres away from you, where Michael Schumacher was leaving a restaurant with his friends and your brother. You both held your breath.

[00valentina-writes00]

being Grayson’s wife?

♡♥︎ Being Grayson's Wife ♥︎♡

♥︎ Being Sheriff Grayson’s wife means living under the watchful, protective gaze of a woman who commands authority even in the quietest moments. She always has an eye on you, whether you’re in the same room or across the city.

♥︎ You get to witness the duality of her nature firsthand—the stern, composed officer that the world sees and the softer, more affectionate partner that only you are privileged to know.

♥︎ Grayson is a firm believer in structure and routine, which means she brings a steady, grounding presence into your life. She’s dependable to the core, always keeping her promises.

♥︎ She’s incredibly protective of you, though she never smothers. Instead, it’s a quiet sort of protection—walking on the side of the street closest to traffic, scanning a room the second you enter, standing just a little in front of you when tensions rise.

♥︎ She has a habit of resting a reassuring hand on your lower back in public, a subtle reminder that she’s there, that you’re safe.

♥︎ Her voice is low and smooth, and when she calls you “darling” in that measured, authoritative tone, it sends a shiver down your spine.

♥︎ She’s a soft dom through and through—she doesn’t need to bark orders or use force to get what she wants. A look, a slight shift in tone, and you’re already falling in line.

♥︎ She comes home late more often than not, exhausted from long shifts, but she always makes time to sit with you, unwind, and listen to you talk about your day.

♥︎ Grayson isn’t the most physically affectionate person in public, but in private? She’s all about slow, deliberate touches—fingertips tracing your knuckles, arms wrapping around your waist when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

♥︎ She has a deep chuckle that she reserves for when you make a particularly clever remark or tease her just right.

♥︎ You are the only one who gets to see her let her guard down completely—hair down, uniform discarded, shoulders relaxed as she leans into you.

♥︎ When she’s in uniform, she looks downright untouchable, but when she strips down to just a button-down and suspenders, lounging at home with you? That’s when she’s at her most enticing.

♥︎ She smells like leather, polished metal, and something subtly smoky—something uniquely Grayson that lingers on your skin whenever she holds you.

♥︎ If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, she doesn’t need to say a word—her mere presence is enough to make them rethink their choices.

♥︎ She’s slow to anger, but the one thing that will set her off without fail is someone disrespecting you.

♥︎ When she scolds you, it’s not loud or harsh—it’s low, deliberate, and makes your stomach flip in ways you’ll never admit out loud.

♥︎ She has a way of gripping your chin with just enough force to make you look at her when you’re being stubborn.

♥︎ She takes pride in providing for you, ensuring you’re always well taken care of. If that means using her authority to pull a few strings for your benefit, so be it.

♥︎ Grayson is a natural caretaker—she wakes up first, starts the coffee, and ensures everything is in order before you even step out of bed.

♥︎ She leaves little notes for you before heading to work—sometimes reminders, sometimes just a simple, “Be good for me.”

♥︎ If she’s particularly exhausted, she’ll just pull you onto her lap at the end of the day and hold you, forehead pressed to yours, taking in the comfort of your presence.

♥︎ She absolutely melts if you run your fingers through her hair, especially when she’s had a rough day.

♥︎ If you ever get injured or put yourself in danger, expect a lecture, a long, lingering kiss, and then another lecture.

♥︎ She has a tendency to grip your hip when standing beside you, a subtle display of possession and protection.

♥︎ You tease her about her hooked nose, knowing full well how much you love it (especially for reasons best kept between the two of you).

♥︎ When she takes off her gloves and traces your skin with her bare fingers, you feel how gentle she truly is.

♥︎ She teaches you self-defense—not because she doubts her ability to protect you, but because she wants you to feel safe even when she isn’t around.

♥︎ She’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but when she does something sweet, it’s always deeply thoughtful and entirely for you.

♥︎ If you try to push her buttons just to see her reaction, she’ll simply raise a brow, smirk, and wait for you to realize you’ve only played yourself.

♥︎ She’s an expert at making you squirm with nothing but a slow, deliberate look.

♥︎ She absolutely adores watching you get flustered—whether it’s from a well-placed compliment or the way she murmurs in your ear when no one else is listening.

♥︎ Grayson is rarely rattled, but the first time she saw you in something particularly stunning, she actually forgot how to speak for a second.

♥︎ You get the rare privilege of seeing her sleep in—face soft, breathing even, utterly at peace in a way few ever get to witness.

♥︎ If you ever fall asleep before she gets home, she always makes sure to tuck you in properly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling beside you.

♥︎ She has a way of making you feel utterly secure—whether it’s in her arms, in her home, or just in her presence.

♥︎ You are the only person in the world who can make her truly, genuinely laugh—the deep, warm kind that makes her eyes crinkle.

♥︎ If you ever call her “Sheriff” in the right tone, she will give you that look, the one that makes you weak in the knees.

♥︎ No matter how chaotic or dangerous her job is, at the end of the day, she always comes home to you—her anchor, her love, her reason to keep fighting.

Ahem...nsfw:

♥︎ Grayson is a master of control, and that extends to the bedroom—she knows exactly how to handle you, how to push you to the edge, and how to keep you there until she decides you’ve earned your release.

♥︎ She has a slow, deliberate way of touching you, as if she’s savoring every reaction, mapping out what makes you gasp, shiver, and beg for more.

♥︎ Her voice is already deep and commanding, but when she leans in close, murmuring filth in your ear in that smooth, authoritative tone? It ruins you.

♥︎ She loves restraint—not necessarily tying you up (though she’s more than capable), but keeping you still with just the weight of her body, pinning your wrists down with a firm grip while she takes her time with you.

♥︎ She’s an expert at teasing. She’ll ghost her fingers over your skin, drag her lips across your neck, and let her breath fan over your core without giving you exactly what you need—until you’re desperate enough to beg.

♥︎ If you try to rush her, she’ll just raise a brow and smirk, taking her time even more because you’re squirming.

♥︎ She’s patient, but she expects obedience. If she tells you to keep your hands to yourself, and you can’t help but reach for her? Expect a punishment—a delicious, drawn-out one.

♥︎ Speaking of punishments, she prefers the kind that leave you aching for her rather than anything harsh—denial, overstimulation, making you hold still when you want to move.

♥︎ Her hooked nose? Perfect for grinding Your clit against you when she’s between your legs, pinning you down while she takes her time devouring you.

♥︎ She’s a giver—your pleasure is always her priority, and she won’t stop until you’re completely spent, trembling beneath her.

♥︎ But when she does let you take control, watching you ride her thigh or grind against her abs, she’s all smirks and firm hands guiding your movements.

♥︎ She has a habit of gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at her when she’s wrecking you.

♥︎ She’s big on eye contact—if you look away when she’s fucking you, she’ll gently but firmly correct you: “Look at me, love.”

♥︎ Loves hearing you whimper her name, but if you get too loud? A firm hand over your mouth, a low chuckle in your ear.

♥︎ She has a thing for leaving marks, but only where she decides—somewhere you can cover up, or somewhere you can’t hide, depending on her mood.

♥︎ After a particularly rough session, she makes a point of pressing soft kisses to the bruises she’s left behind.

♥︎ She adores teasing you in public—resting her hand on your thigh, whispering something filthy in your ear, watching the way you shift in your seat.

♥︎ If you act up in public, expect a knowing smirk and a promise: “Just wait until we get home, darling.”

♥︎ She’s strong enough to lift you effortlessly—pushing you against the wall, carrying you to bed, throwing you onto the mattress with ease.

♥︎ When she’s particularly frustrated from work, she’ll take it out on you—not in an unkind way, but in the way she grips you a little tighter, fucks you a little rougher, chases her own pleasure just as much as yours.

♥︎ But other nights? She’s slow and methodical, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of your skin, making sure you feel how much she loves you.

♥︎ She gets off on control, but she also loves watching you fall apart for her—if she’s in the mood, she’ll make you Cum over and over until you’re too spent to move.

♥︎ Her hands are rough from years of work, and you love the way they feel against your soft skin, the way she grips your thighs, holds you steady, leaves bruises in her wake.

♥︎ She loves when you leave scratches down her back—it’s one of the few signs that she let herself go completely with you.

♥︎ She’s a bit of a perfectionist, which means she will make sure you cum at least twice before she even considers stopping.

♥︎ If you ever try to take control, she’ll let you—just to see what you do—before flipping the dynamic effortlessly, pinning you down with that smirk.

♥︎ She enjoys teasing you with her voice alone—calling you good girl in that low, amused tone that makes your knees weak.

♥︎ She adores watching you struggle to keep quiet when she’s got her fingers inside you, especially if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be doing this.

♥︎ Her uniform? Oh, she knows the effect it has on you. If you beg her to leave it on, she might indulge you—just to see you fall apart for her even faster.

♥︎ She’s a menace with aftercare—completely doting, running a warm bath, massaging your sore muscles, feeding you small bites of fruit with that amused little smirk.

♥︎ If you’re too tired to clean up, she’ll handle it—she’ll always take care of you afterward, no matter how rough she was.

♥︎ She has a habit of tracing her fingertips over your body in the afterglow, absentmindedly mapping out your curves as she murmurs praises against your skin.

♥︎ When she’s feeling particularly possessive, she’ll fuck you slow, deep, keeping you on the edge until you can barely think—“You’re mine, aren’t you, love?”

♥︎ She loves when you beg. Not because she enjoys making you desperate (well, maybe a little), but because she loves knowing that you want her that badly.

♥︎ If she catches you touching yourself without permission, expect her to make you finish what you started—while she watches, arms crossed, amused but in control.

♥︎ She’s always composed, even when she’s wrecking you—but the few times she lets go, voice breaking as she moans your name? You live for those moments.

♥︎ She lives for watching you come apart under her, the way your back arches, the way you gasp her name—she never gets tired of it.

♥︎ No matter how many times she’s had you, she still looks at you like you’re the most intoxicating thing she’s ever seen—like she could ruin you all over again and still want more.

[littlebirdpetit]

Can absolutely confirm that I see a lot of bad stuff at my barn. People call it the "old" style not knowing we've known how to ride horses in a healthy way for centuries. There are letters from a Napoleonean general claiming that "nowadays", horses are started way too early and everyone is only concerned with looks and strong collection (like ldr), damaging the horses' health permanently.

Our barn had the same problem. We have lesson horses and our instructor stopped giving a shit about their health a decade ago with the result that when he retired, we had a host of stressed, lame and broken lesson horses.... and no one to take over. The girls who did were young and inexperienced, so even though they tried to do better, they eventually returned to our old instructors way of riding: short reins and lots of force from behind. Our old instructor used to ride in the highest dressage league.

We got a new instructor who tried to actually change things. The horses got more feed and rest, vets were finally called and the lessons were structured around their wellfare. She was viciously mocked even by people who had previously condemned our old instructor. Her assisstants, the aforementioned girls, stabbed her in the back so many times that she left not even half a year later. And our lesson horses are back to where they were almost a year ago. Riding a horse with force and not much else gets you results faster than trying to understand what you are doing wrong. Teaching students to use force because you dont understand whats wrong is also simpler.

This is a belief system, especially strong in our area. The barn at home, where I and Petit will hopefully be in a couple of weeks, would not tolerate any of that and the instructor there is highly qualified. Which is lucky, because Petit used to be a lesson horse at my current barn and she is broken body and soul. Kissing spines, damaged tendons, stomach ulcers. She used to be a racing horse before coming here so her problems likely originated there but she's stressed all the time because they used to ride her "the old way": short reins, tearing at the bit so she lowers her head and strong use of the whip so she goes forward. It will take years for her to realise she's safe from that now.

I think when the rider's ambition in dressage takes a higher priority than their health, or they're on the same level, is when they start accepting that they cant always do it the right way. And that's a slippery slope. I agree with the people who say it depends on the coach and you simply have to find the right one... but how do you do that when you don't know what the right way is? When you've been taught to turn off your empathy because its gonna benefit you or the horse in the long run? Take off those rose-coloured glasses guys. There is incredible abuse happening in the system and its not just by outliers. At least here, there is rot to the core

horsethoughtbarn 1 dressage

what are everyones thoughts on dressage ive been very interested in it as late as i enjoy the classical approach to biomechanics and harmony and balance and have been very discouraged by the state of modern dressage vs classical what are your thoughts on the sport and its status and its ethics and also what are your favorite cool ethical dressage moves and routines and riders or your thoughts on the sport as a whole or anything really i just want to learn more about it and talk about it

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[ftmtftm]

Hi I've seen you use the tag transfeminism a lot but I've never seen anyone else talk about it? Would you mind explaining it, or if not maybe pointing me in the direction of what to read to understand it? Thanks a lot in advance! <3

Yeah absolutely!

The most broad and basic premise of transfeminism is: it is feminist practice that works to incorporate the experiences of trans individuals into a feminist framework.

Depending on what theorists you engage with transfeminism is either a framework for the liberation of all trans individuals from the Patriarchy - or it solely focuses on the experiences of trans women and fems. I personally ascribe to the theories of the former, not the latter.

The best, and easiest, place to start with transfeminist theory in my opinion is with Emi Koyama's "Transfeminist Manifesto" - [ here ]. The first 10 pages are the Manifesto as originally written. The last 5 are a postscript to the manifesto and a bonus piece about racist feminism. I highly recommend reading the postscript, I find it fundamental to my own understanding of transfeminist praxis.

You can read more of Koyama's work on her website - [ here ] - and I highly recommend it! She's a profound trans and intersex advocate.

I also recommend trans theorists that pre-date Koyama such as Kate Bornstein, Leslie Feinberg, and Judith Butler. They're all nonbinary trans theorists across a multitude of identities and experiences. I love this interview with Feinberg and Bornstein a lot - [ here ].

Feinberg was prolific and the first author to truly advance the concept of transgender liberation - hir website [ here ] has a free PDF download of hir book Stone Butch Blues and several other resources on hir work and life.

Bornstein's books Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us and Gender Outlaws: The Next Generation are go-to's of mine regarding a relatively modern history and understanding of trans identity. Her My Gender Workbook: How to Become a Real Man, a Real Woman, a Real You, or Something Else Entirely really helped shape my own relationship to my gender identity really positively and profoundly!

Judith Butler's most recent book Who's Afraid of Gender is also incredibly good, however it is incredibly dense in an academic sense. It personally takes me weeks to get through Butler's writing because it is so jammed with information - and that's not to their discredit, it's just the way they write. I highly recommend looking up some of their talks and interviews on YouTube as they're an easier introduction to their work.

Personally, I don't like Julia Serano as an author all that much, but she is still an influential transfeminist voice to be aware of because she coined and popularized the term transmisogyny. I personally have a lot of criticism of her work - particularly her seminal work Whipping Girl - because it explicitly, in her own words, is intended to be distinctly different from the work of Feinberg, Bornstein, and Riki Wilchins (another nonbinary intersex activist) and is more interested in societal perception and binary trans womanhood over politics and liberation. It also stands in opposition to a lot of the liberationist ideals of the Feminists she claims to be inspired by. I've read the whole book twice over now and in my opinion it reeks of White Feminism. I don't recommend it outside of reading it for context to the wider transfeminist discourse.

Transfeminism as a whole is also deeply entangled with the politics of Black and Intersectional Feminist politics, as many of those previously mentioned authors worked with, worked around, or were inspired by authors like Audre Lorde and bell hooks. As such I highly recommend both of them as authors as well!! I think their work really helps set the framework transfeminist theory is also built around.

I hope this helps!!

[tookishcombeferre]

Sofia the First: A Lesson in Visual Literature

This is the most Parent-TM thing I will likely ever write. So, if this doesn't interest you, I'm sorry. But, it's something I actually deeply appreciate about the construction of Sofia the First's writing as someone with a small child.

Sofia the First is actually structured a little bit like an old school epic.

We have a protagonist who goes on a true hero's journey.

From the opening pilot to the finale we open and close in the village house in which Sofia lived. We get explicit commentary on how much she has changed over time. She has, physically, aged. She has gone on literal adventures to different realms and places. Interacted with (almost) god like beings. And, in the finale, even descends and ascends, into an "underworld" of sorts. It's, in every sense of the word, a hero's journey.

The finale especially is set up to highlight the hero's journey arc. The song at the beginning of the episode recaps Sofia's call to adventure, her mentors who each have their own solos (Baileywick, Mom, Dad, and Cedric), as well as the number of times she has had to "cross the threshold" between her world and the Mystic Isles. We see Chrysta (her helper) recapped and highlighted. We see Sofia using the skills she has learned in the Mystic Isles to stop Prisma. Despite the fact that this ultimately fails, and Vor is unleashed.

The rest of the finale is dealing with the failure that ultimately leads to the "death" that is Sofia being placed in the Amulet. While inside the Amulet, she has the "revelation" that her love is her power which allows her to defeat Vor. The "change" and "atonement" pieces are a little dicier - but - the people around her do that/ have done that, and those changes and atonments are what set her free in the end. The changes that Sofia herself helped to cause, the atonements she helped to bring about, are what allow her to be set free.

The gift she received in the end, is her Amulet back and, as is quite traditional, it is presented by her mentor. She, and those who have participated in her adventure, are returned changed. She is made a full Protector. (I'm not sure how I feel about this personally given her age, but for the sake of Sofia's story as an epic? I'm all about it.)

And, the story ends.

Each episode leading the the finale also helps to move the narrative towards that ending. It's pushing us towards that final arc of "Death and Rebirth" to the ending of the narrative.

Which, for a show geared towards 2-5 year olds?

Absolutely INCREDIBLE.

Personal issues that I have with how old Sofia is to be doing certain things aside, it's amazing that they make the hero's journey archetype accessible to toddlers. Like, I could actually explain this archetype to my kid in the next year and a half and be confident they understand "The Hero's Journey" if I simplify the language just a smidge.

Again. Amazing.

Outside of that, the show also tackles things like dramatic irony.

Throughout the show, we often know the villain's schemes well before our protagonists do. (We know Cedric's plans the whole show. We know about Ms. Nettle's plot as Sascha. Etc.) And, it's SO well thought out to be able to ask a kid even as young as three "When you know something another character doesn't, how does it make you feel?" "Why does it make you feel that way?"

Dramatic irony builds suspense. That's what it's designed to do. You want the kid yelling "Don't trust that! It's not going to work! OH NO!" Because, that's what dramatic irony does.

The next layer is when they ask "Why are people nice sometimes and not nice sometimes?"

Because THAT'S where the real talk happens.

Dramatic irony builds the opportunity for social emotional learning to take place. It builds the opportunity to recognize the difference between when characters like Cedric, Ms. Nettle, Ivy, and others are acting in ways that are self-serving vs. self-giving and how that makes them and others feel.

Right now, Squish and I are stuck just on how people feel.

"Sofia is sad. She's crying."

"Why do think that's happening?"

*Crickets*

The question is there even if we can't get an answer yet.

Additionally, all the way back in the pilot we have foreshadowing about the Amulet of Avalor being chosen for Sofia by fate. This eventually leading to Elena's plot to have Sofia help her get free.

Not, going to say too much more about that because that's just true. I love foreshadowing as a plot device, and I'm happy to see it used continually throughout the series.

The episode "Through the Looking Back Glass" is an EXCELLENT way to introduce the concept of flashback. It sets up a magic item that gives easy access to flashbacks without making them annoying and overly heavy handed in exposition.

I also really like the subtlety of the one in "In Cedric we Trust" where we see the illusion of a young Roland and Cedric playing as Cedric is singing. Very subtle. Very nice.

Both are well placed. Very emotive. And, flashback, when done well, should add emotion and emotional context.

Can't wait until Squish is a little older so we can discuss that more because that is a little more advanced that even the dramatic irony.

Finally, we have symbolism.

The Amulet of Avalor, the Family Wand, even certain colors throughout the show seem to carry weight.

The Amulet of Avalor, of course, seems to be the most obvious symbol. It represents kindness, goodness, and love, amongst other virtues. Even after Elena is no longer granting blessings and curses, it still seems to carry the same weight to protection and blessing with it. It holds onto its nature of being a symbol of virtue by being what leads Sofia to becoming a protector of those who need her through her kindness and goodness. It's her wit, her strength, her devotion, and her pure-heartedness that see her through the trials she's placed in, and all of that comes with her association with Amulet.

Now, obviously these are not the words you'd use with a 2-5 year old kid.

However, what I love about all of this, is that it is WRITTEN in a way that can be approached AT 2-5 year old level. There are layers here.

When speaking about the Amulet, you can talk about the way the Amulet itself shows (or leads to) goodness.

When talking about flashback, you can talk about why it's important that we know about the past to understand the characters in the "now." "Do we feel more sad for them?" "Does it help us understand why they did what they did?" "Why do you think that is?"

All of these concepts are SO important to be written at this level because it allows these youngsters to grow into reading and analyzing much more complex media with better literacy skills for being exposed to things that are written in really explicit and obvious ways.

If you read this, thank you.

I'm a parent. I'm a former English major. I also just really want to see people be media literate. I REALLY, REALLY think more shows need to be written for the 2-5 age group in this structure BECAUSE it exposes them to these literary devices even if they aren't explicitly defined.

[tragicallyuncreative]

LMAOOO i spent 15 minutes researching which buffets were popular in the 60s, especially in OK, but so many didn't pop up until the 70s and Shoneys is a classic. The Curtis Gang would fuck shit up at a buffet, for real. The Curtis parents always took the boys to the restaurant of their choice on their birthdays, even when they were barely scraping by. Did they chose a steakhouse? Something fancy? Nope. Always Shoneys. They would clean out there. Seconds? Thirds? Fourths? Bring it.

Steve pregames on the buttered rolls they bring. The second the waitress sets it down on the table, he grabs it and puts the entire basket in his lap and claims it as his. He also wears a jacket and asks for another basket right before they leave and unashamedly shoves all the rolls in his pockets and brings them home and uses them to make bacon and egg sandwiches for the next 5 mornings in a row.

Soda is combining food in the different buffet sections to make the weirdest concoctions ever. We're talking cheese and mushroom pizza smothered in thousand island salad dressing topped with fried shrimp and bits of cheeseburger and sushi and honeyed carrots and green beans for good measure. He tried to get everyone to try it and is getting glares from the staff as he gets a million different plates to mix food on, take one bite, then set it aside and declare it done.

Darry will literally get steak and unsweetened ice tea. Nothing else. But he will eat his body weight in it. The more done/ charred, the better. He'll literally ask the line cook if they can put the steak back on the grill for a couple more minutes until its on the verge of catching fire and be like "yeah, right there. that's perfect."

Two-Bit is having a grand old time with his tradition of trying to fit as much food as he can on one small plate by stacking it. His mom took him and his sister on his 11th birthday and they had a $2 for 1 plate deal and he literally stacked it to the ceiling and was incredibly pleased with the way he outsmarted the system. He continues this for the rest of his life. When the gang goes together, Darry is dying of embarrassment and hissing at him "two-bit, i got the all-you-can-eat deal, you can get more than one plate, knock that shit off and stop drawing attention to us." no dice, he's using toothpicks to stabilize his food structure and making fun of Darry by pretending to lose his balance and drop the plate before proceeding to trip for real and faceplant and drop everything while darry sits there and regrets his existence.

Ponyboy will get one plate of his favorite- straight carbs (mashed potatoes, mac n cheese, and fried chicken) and then absolutely destroy the desert section. if it's got chocolate, its going on his plate. he takes like 8 brownies before anyone can get to them and theres none left and Steve asks for one and he just looks at him and is like "they're mine now, cry about it."

Dallas is living his best life. He is determined to get his money's worth. He'll literally get like 10 plates with every single food option and steadily make his way through them. He'll sit back in his chair and take breaks and just when everyones like finally time to go he'll be like wait im still eating. It's an hour past closing time and the staff is ready to throw hands and a waitress will approach and try to take away a mostly empty plate and he'll open his eyes (emerging from his brief food coma) and look her dead in the eye and go "the hell are you doing I'm not done". also has no choice but to go to shoney's because the other all-you-can-eat buffet in town has banned him for a multitude of reasons.

Johhny surpasses them all. He just doesn't get full. He doesn't draw attention to it, but he will put away a frankly ridiculous amount of food and have no effects. They all finally drag themselves out to the truck, convinced that they'll never eat again, and just flop down in their seats and lay there for a minute and johnny's just looking at them like "soo... who wants ice cream?"

And yes, you have to be 12 or older to go to the buffet unescorted. When ponyboy was 13 (like soon after their parent's death) they all went together and the mood was pretty somber and then a staff member comes up to darry and is like "sir, the little boy can't be up there unattended" and points to ponyboy who is raiding the dessert section. they are all DYING laughing and ponyboy is equal parts pissed that she thought he was younger than 12 and humiliated. he does not live it down and the gang will never let him forget it.

edited to inform @fangirl-docintraining that they take Betty to Shoney’s when they go out to eat with her for the first time. Darry tries to warn her that the gang is wild at buffets and she just laughs it off. An hour later she’s sitting there as Darry wolfs down his blackened steak, Two-Bit is pulling chicken nuggets off of toothpicks at the top of his food tower, Johnny is eating 4ths, Steve is trying to wrestle a brownie from Ponyboy, Soda's dipping raw broccoli in chocolate fondue, and Dally is flirting with the waitress. The manager walks by and does a double take with the fear of god in his eyes and just groans “oh hell no not these guys again who let them in?!?” She’s like “what am I marrying into??”

At The End Of The Road: Chapter ? Excerpt

Mourning the 2k words of chapter 6 drafts that somehow got deleted and are nowhere to be found 😭 was actually making some progress so hopefully can find but don't have high hopes. On a happier note, take some rambling for a future chapter plot!

~

“Hey, happy birthday kid,” Steve said, whipping off Pony’s DX cap, rubbing his bald head, and darting away before the kid could take a swing at him. “Finally twelve, huh? Now you can go up to the buffet line at Shoney’s all by yourself!”

“I’m fourteen!” Pony cried indignantly.

“What’s that? Did ya hear someone talkin’, Two?”

“Nah,” Two-Bit chortled, lazily flopping on the couch. “I didn’t hear nothin’. Hey, go wake up the birthday boy. It’s a big day, ya know. Thirteen and all.”

Johnny snickered at Pony’s yelp of protest. “Two-Bit!”

[sisaloofafump]

Peter J. Tomasi (writer) single-handedly trying to retcon all of Bruce's abusive past (I'm so here for it)

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

[dramatisperscnae]

She really is absolutely adorable when she blushes; Dick won't ever get tired of seeing it. And the fact that he can actually use that nickname now, use it freely, just makes it even better. Buttercup is a okay princess, but Rapunzel has a shade more agency in her movie.

His grin widens at her quiet huff, hand starting to fall when she steps forward again, pulls his arms around her, and he needs no further guidance; he pulls her close, holds her against him as he watches that pretty blush deepen further. It's no real surprise that she's had feelings for him earlier than he was able to sort his own out, but he is curious about just when she'd known.

Fortunately for him, she volunteers that information on her own and leaves him trying not to laugh out of sheer joy and fondness. Since that first trip to Leslie's, huh…? And she'd never once said a word, never even hinted where so many others would have pushed…

God, he didn't think he could love her any more, but here he is.

His arms tighten around her, Dick lifting her up easily onto the kitchen counter and stepping up close. One arm lets go of her waist in favor of cupping her cheek, thumb caressing soft skin as he just gazes at her for a moment, eyes incredibly soft. Then he's kissing her, slow and deep and gentle, every bit of emotion he feels focused into that one gesture. It's not rushed, there's no hurry, and when he finally pulls back it's only enough to rest their foreheads together so he can whisper four adoring words.

"I love you, princess."

Her blush steadily grows, but it blooms fully when he drops that nickname on her. “You—” Oh, that’s going to take some getting used to. It’s absolutely going to take a while before she can fully merge Dick Grayson and Nightwing in her mind. As it is, she sputters for a moment, before huffing at him, no heat behind it. “Really?” she whines. “That’s the nickname we’re sticking with?”

Well, there are certainly worse ones to be stuck with.

And Max would know.

She steps closer still, right into his space. Takes both his hands and wraps his arms around her waist, before looping her own arms around his neck. “I love you too. For…longer than that.” Again, her blush deepens. She isn’t sure if she should say when she realized it or not. On the one hand, she doesn’t want it to seem like it was too soon, or something. On the other…

Dick loves her.

She bites her lip. “Since you brought me to Leslie’s, I think.” She’s not sure if that was the moment that did it—some real knight in shining armour shit, right there—or if that was just when she finally figured it out, but Leslie’s is where she realized just how deep her feelings for him truly ran. “…Can we kiss and make up now?”