#but they’re all misogynistic in some way or another

[sunnist4rs]

I hate men because today after years of my brother mocking me whenever I talk about something I’m well informed on by saying I did no research I finally told him how much it upsets me. So straight after he brought up my male assault statistics and called them fake before leaving.

[bbunisre]

02: MEGUMI IS LIGHTWEIGHT (1.3k words)

Panda’s parties are always the same—borderline annoying, misogynistic rap music pulsating in your ears and a lot of dancing. A lot. So when you enter the party, swinging your car keys with your fingers and shooting acknowledging nods at mutuals, you’re not surprised to see the same once again.

“They’re here!” a rogue Panda yells, coming through with a red cup.

He hands another one he's holding to you, an unspoken understanding of your frequent drinking habits. It wasn’t that you were an alcoholic (past you would say something else) but you were known for your high tolerance.

“Where’s that bastard Toge? I need to have a word with him.” I ask Panda.

“Oh, I think he’s upstairs. Probably making out with some chick, I don’t know.” Panda shrugs easily.

Even if Panda is the closest to Toge, you know in a heartbeat that Toge is not easily drawn to the temptations of lust as easily as Panda thinks he is. In fact, you guess that Toge's most likely playing on his Switch upstairs, avoiding the party that Panda’s forced him to come to.

You turn to Tsumiki, “I’ll go. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” she smiles at me, “Come back soon though. Don’t kill Toge.”

Megumi’s listening to your conversation whilst Yuuji and Nobara argue about who’s the beer pong champion out of the two of them at the entrance of the house. You pull them by their sleeves so they’re not in the way of passing guests anymore.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re babysitting them.

“Can’t promise, babes,” you tell her with a half-shrug.

Tsumiki’s phone starts ringing, “One second.”

She steps out to take the call, leaving you and Megumi a foot apart from each other, “Megumi, how about you?”

“Sorry?” he asks.

Forgetting what Toge's said is a lot more challenging than you expected. You push down the uneasiness in your gut.

“It’s your first party, is it not? How are you feeling?” you ask.

Megumi's expressions are hard to read but after being around him for so long, you’ve become accustomed to his body language.

“I will be alright. Thank you.” he replies politely.

You smile, patting his shoulder, “I’ll come and check on you later.”

Megumi nods and you take your leave to the second floor, a breath of fresh air coddling you at the escape. When you see the familiar Toge in Panda’s bedroom, your estimate is correct. Toge is sprawled on Panda’s bed, playing some Otome game on his Switch. He says he plays it because it’s cringe and he wants to make fun of it...you're starting to think that he really does enjoy it.

“Y/N.” Toge notes.

“Toge.” you reply, sitting on the bed next to him.

He switches off the game and turns to you as you take a languid sip of the drink, “Has Megumi asked you out yet?”

You almost choke in the process, furrowing your eyebrows and swallowing properly. Setting the drink aside, you hit Toge, “You’re out of your mind. He doesn't like me.”

“I mean, it’s always been kind of obvious if you ask me.”

“What are you talking about?” you sigh, “There’s nothing. You’re being delusional.”

Toge rolls his eyes, “No, you are. And he does have a massive crush on you because he was so desperate to believe that you didn’t like girls.”

“That’s a huge sentence coming from your mouth,” you comment, laying down next to him.

The reverberations of the music downstairs make its way up Panda’s creepy staircase and into the bedroom walls.

“He does,” Toge affirms, “I’m sure of it. Besides those tweets, there’s definitely something there.”

“Why are you so insistent about it?” you ask, turning to the white-haired boy.

It’s odd; Toge is usually reserved and calm so when you see him ramble passionately about Megumi, you’re not too sure what it can mean.

“I don’t know,” he answers, turning to you also, “But remember when you broke up with…?”

He waits with bated breath for you to approve.

You sigh, “You can say Choso, Toge.”

“Yeah, Choso...” he nods along, “When you broke up with him last year, he always asked about you through me. You were a mess, a really bad mess, like a really, really, really—“

“A mess. Got it.” you state, remembering those tearful nights.

“Don’t know why he didn’t ask Tsumiki. Maybe he was scared of being found out. Maybe—“

“Maybe he didn’t want Tsumiki to keep thinking about me. Don’t you remember how worried she was about me then? He probably didn’t want to pressure her and he couldn’t ask me because I wasn’t talking to anyone.” you theorise.

“I mean, you could be right but those Tweets.”

“The kids were probably just making fun of him.” you say, getting up.

“Where you going?” he asks.

“Chill, princess. I'm not gonna leave you now.” you respond, walking towards the opened balcony. You can’t believe Panda gets this whole view to himself.

Toge follows you outside and the two of you sink onto the couch outside, watching the neighbourhood as Toge passes you a joint from Panda’s secret stash.

An hour later, you remembered that you’d go check on Megumi. Sure Tsumiki is there too but she’s super popular, everyone will be talking to her while Megumi explores the unfamiliar terrain by himself.

So you say goodbye to the high Toge and walk back downstairs. Everyone’s dancing and hands drag you to dance but you push them away, saying you need to use the bathroom.

“Where is he?” you ask yourself, wondering around Panda’s house.

You see Tsumiki and Panda talking on the couch, Yuuji and Nobara playing beer pong but where’s Megumi? He's gotta be here somewhere.

“Y/N…”

A heavy hand lands around your shoulders.

“Megumi! Are you okay?”

Megumi’s lids are heavy as he leans onto you.

“Did you drink?”

“I…I thought he said it was a mocktail. I think I had too many cocktails.”

Of course he did.

“Okay, relax. I can’t drive right now because I drank too, but we can go out for a breather, how does that sound? There isn’t much space here for you to sit down.”

Megumi nods, barely processing your words with his eyes closed.

You inhale and prepare for the journey through the pushy and overly welcoming crowd as you make your way to the front door. The excited partygoers ask about his conditions but you give them brief summaries as you battle through the crowd. Finally, when you’re through the front door with a heavy Megumi, you make him sit on the porch’s stairs, “Wait here. I’m gonna get Tsumiki to drive you home.”

As you’re about to leave, he grabs your bicep, “Don’t go.”

You’re staring.

Very obviously staring.

“Please…” he whispers weakly.

“Okay, I won’t.” you answer, sitting next to him. There aren’t many people coming in and out of the party now. Most of them are getting drunk.

Right now, you’re trapped in your own world with Megumi. The last thing you wanted to do tonight, especially after what Toge told you. You didn't know he cared for you that much.

But it can't be true. Megumi can't like you. You're his sister's best friend.

The silence is louder than the rap music playing inside.

“How are you feeling?”

“I regret coming.” he responds.

Slowly, his head tips to your shoulder. You’re not sure if he’s realised he’s done it or the alcohol has consumed every working thought in him.

All you can muster is a nod as you’re glued to his side—thighs pressed together, shoulders smashed and his unruly hair prickling your cold neck.

If what Toge says is true, which it’s not, what would you do in this situation? Would you confront Megumi or would you flee?

“I can go get Tsumiki—“

“Y/N.” he states.

“Yes, Megumi?”

You can’t stop that gut-wrenching sensation in your stomach. Megumi looks up at you, long eyelashes fluttering open. You know what’s coming before it even comes.

“I like you. I like you a lot.”

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LENA'S NOTES - another chapter because ily guys <33

[malum-forev]

A Place I Once Called Home

Summary: The four times Bucky showed up at your place unexpected. 

The first time Bucky came stumbling into your apartment was a few weeks after he moved into the building. You’d been living in New York for quite some time so you weren’t oblivious to The Avengers and the fact that they resided in the same apartment complex. It was actually one of the reasons you paid the premium for living there. So what if your landlord hiked up the rent twice a year and there were some broken windows thanks to aliens trying to get to the superheroes when they’re least expecting it, right? It was all in the name of safety. Or so you thought.

Your friends had left hours ago, and although you loved your weekly wine and cheese night you sometimes hoped they would stay after to help you clean the dishes. You hummed along to the song that was quietly playing, the small speaker filling your whole apartment. At first you thought the rattling you heard was part of the melody. But a chill went through your spine as you heard a loud thump at your door, making you almost drop the wine glass into the soapy water. 

As you dried your hands and walked towards the door there was another loud bang against your door. You clutched the baseball bat hidden behind your TV, a lovely present from a misogynistic ex-boyfriend. He’d thought it be ‘cute’ to show you how to hold a bat. There’s only one fucking way to hold a bat you mansplaining son of a- bang! 

‘You don’t have time to think about this right now!’ You scolded yourself. 

You peered through the peephole to find two male figures trying to pick your lock, the handle rattled. 

One, two, three deep breaths and you opened the door, bat clutched and ready to hit anything and everything. A woman ready for battle, adrenaline rushed through your veins, blood rushing to your head. But before you could even unleash your first swing, one of the men dropped near your knees with a thump and a groan. Half of his body inside your apartment while his long legs sprawled across the hallway. 

“Buck! You said your apartment was 213!” The man you soon recognized as Captain America said, shooting you a ‘You have no idea how sorry I am’ face with reddened cheeks. 

You stood inside your apartment with mouth agape as you watched one of Earths Mightiest Heroes struggle to pull another super up from your floor. 

“Miss I am truly sorry to have interrupted you.” Captain America apologized. “I’m Steve and the man who is currently petting your slippers is my friend Bucky.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked down at the man known as the Winter Soldier running his hand through the fur of your plush husky shaped slippers.

“I’m more of a cat guy but these two doggies look friendly. What-“ he hiccupped. “are their names?”

His steel blue eyes followed yours as Steve picked him off the floor and leaned him against your doorframe. 

“Ma’am, are you okay?” It was until Steve asked you the question that you realized you hadn’t answered.

You shook your head to try and reset your brain. “I’m sorry, yes I’m good it’s just that- well I know some superheroes live here I just didn’t think two Avengers would come knocking on my door. 

“I’m not an Avenger.” Bucky grumbled, closing his eyes for what he thought was a second. What actually happened was that he lost his balance and ended up falling forward into you. It took all of your strength to not topple over. 

“For fucks sake.” Steve muttered under his breath, he usually didn’t swear but his best friend was making his patience wear down, as he peeled Bucky off of you.

“You smell really nice.” Bucky slurred with a loopy smile. 

 “Just to wrap things up, we’re extremely sorry for trying to break into your apartment, for probably scaring you half to death and for anything and everything Bucky’s said.” Steve smiled before turning right and lugging his friend down the hallway.

“His apartment is down this way!” You said pointing to the left side. “216, on the other side of the hall.”

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good night.” Steve huffed hiking up Bucky’s arm on his shoulder, as they passed your apartment again. 

“Thank you pretty lady.” Bucky said with a singsong tone and a wink. 

The second time you found Bucky in your apartment was a few weeks later. He had walked past your door a total of six times in the last few hours. The mission was to give you an iced coffee for your troubles the other night. And as of today, he was two weeks and four days late on completing the mission. The original plan was to stop by the day after he’d drunkenly showed up at your door, but the anxiety and panic that had settled into his bones made him jump back into his place anytime he heard your door open.

“What if she doesn’t drink coffee? She’ll think it’s disrespectful of me to bring her that.” He convinced himself. So the only logical thing to do was to follow you around for a couple of days. Maybe this way he would find out your exact order and get it right. Not telling his therapist what he was up to would be smart. 

After a few days he got your order right and even found out what kind of flowers you liked. 

Days passed and the petals from the bouquet he bought started falling off, the ice on your coffee was long gone. Another worried crease appeared on his forehead as he contemplated walking to your apartment with nothing in his hands but no, the pretty lady with the beautiful eyes he thought he’d only dreamt about deserved more. 

So here he was, a new coffee in his right hand and a bouquet of flowers on his left one. But before he knew it, another problem raised. How the hell was he supposed to knock on your door. Was he supposed to use the right one and spill your coffee or would he have to hope that by using the left one the petals wouldn’t drop. He was about to abort the mission completely but then he heard your lock turn. 

With each second that passed, and God did he feel like millions passed, he grew more nervous. Was his hand actually sweating? That hadn’t happened since before he enlisted. 

But once you opened your door with that cheeky smile of yours, everything seemed to disappear.

“Should I be concerned about this habit of yours? Do you always lurk around women’s doors?” 

One sentence, that’s all it took for him to turn into putty. A useless puddle around your feet, begging for more of you, anything you’d give him. 

“I only lurk around the ones who I owe an apology to.” Bucky licked his lips, bringing forward the contents in his hands.

“Hmm, my orders exactly. Did you get lucky or did someone help you out?” You smiled at him as you took both gifts and walked back into your apartment. Bucky took you leaving the door open as an invitation. Did you always do this or were you letting him in because there was something unique? He urgently needed answers because in just a couple of minutes you’d already managed to make him feel special. 

“I’m a good at apologies and buying gifts.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You’re a pretty good liar but terrible at hiding. You’d think being a super-secret spy assassin would make you stealthy.”

His eyes widened first at your words then at your laughter. The sound rang in his head like a beautiful melody. 

“I saw you following me a couple of days ago.” You smiled, placing the flowers in a vase full of water. “In the coffee shop down the street, in the flower shop. I even saw you in the library, I’m almost positive you were reading a book upside down!”

The blush crept from the back of his neck up to the apples of his cheeks. 

“I wanted to make sure I got you the right coffee.” Bucky mumbled, his one chance with you and he’d blow it. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You trapped your bottom lip with your teeth as his body perked up hearing your words. 

“We can start again.” You held your hand out and told him your name. 

The third time was a month after the apology. In the last four weeks, the two of you had been spending every possible single second together. It started when you ‘accidentally’ came out of your apartments at the same time. Bucky would never admit that he was looking through his peephole and waiting for you to turn the knob on your door. 

“Good morning.” Bucky said with a fake yawn, acting like he hasn’t been up since 5:05am. He stretched his arms a little more than he had to, making sure you could catch a glimpse of his toned body under his dark t-shirt. Bucky knew he’d missed out on many things but flirting with you came naturally. “Do you know any good coffee places around here?”

You smiled at his obvious antics blushing like a schoolgirl. “There’s this place around the corner.”

Your morning coffee turned into a morning run and then coffee ritual, then breakfast was added. Afterwards, lunch at 12:30 and dinner at your house every Thursday. Which turned into dinner at alternating apartments every day of the week. 

But today you truly weren’t expecting him.

“I’ll see you on Monday okay? Coffees on me?” He’d mumbled against your hair two days ago, your body wrapped in his arms. “I just gotta go on this mission but I promise I’ll be back before our run.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, it felt like a bunch of thorns prickling your neck. In just a few short weeks he’d become an integral part of your life. You realized it was stupid to feel like this about someone who’d never even said he liked you but you couldn’t help but fall headfirst. “Please be safe.” 

He tilted your head up towards him and ran his knuckles down your cheek. Your soft skin soothed his rough hands. He couldn’t believe someone as angelic as you would even look at someone like him. His troubled mind and his past didn’t seem to affect you. You just saw him. For the first time in forever he felt scared to go to a mission, knowing he had something to lose. 

“I’ll be back sooner than you think, doll.” He smiled as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 

Now, you found yourself being woken up by two soft knocks on your door. 11:45 pm on Sunday night. You must’ve fallen asleep on your couch, your TV asking you ‘Are you Still Watching?”

A bruised and bloody Bucky greeted you as you opened your door. A gasp escaped your lips.

“That bad huh?” Bucky chuckled, leaning against your doorframe. 

You dragged the Winter Soldier into your small bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub, grabbing your first aid kit from underneath your sink. You sat in front of him, scooting your knees to rest on the inside of his legs, wiping the blood off of his cut lip. 

“Do you always come home like this?” You asked, throwing away another antiseptic wipe into the bin.

“I usually go to the med bay after missions.” Bucky shrugged, his eyes never leaving yours.

A worried look took over your features. “Why didn’t you go this time?”

“I made you a promise. If I’d gone all the way over there I wouldn’t have been able to make our run tomorrow.”

Your whole body fluttered and you couldn’t help yourself. You took Bucky’s face in your hands and you smashed your lips to his. Bucky held the back of your neck as he followed your lead. He kissed like a man starved, your kisses felt like the sun shining in the middle of a snowy winter. It lit him up inside. Before you knew it, you were dragging him from the bathroom into your bedroom, bumping into various furniture but not caring.

You only separated to take his shirt off. 

“Wait!” Bucky said, his jagged breath didn’t stop him from unbuckling his belt with one hand while the other was already working on the button of his jeans.

You tugged your shirt back down. “You want to stop?”

A loud laugh ripped through his chest. “No! God no. I was just going to ask you if we could keep our kisses to the left side of my mouth.” He pointed at his bruised lip.

You bit your bottom lip. “I think I could do that.”

He could come undone just by looking at you. Your sweet face only spoke words of temptation and he was more than happy to convert. 

The fourth time came eight months after he’d asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything had been great up until a month ago when the days started getting longer and the disappointment grew deeper. 

You’d arranged a special dinner with Bucky since he’d been working late recently and now he was three hours late, again. The food had already been in the fridge for a while and the candles blown out. 

He found you sitting on the fire escape when he came into the apartment, the faint smell of cigarettes lingered. 

“I thought you said you’d quit smoking a long time ago.” Bucky tried to joke but his words sounded harsher than he’d intended. 

“This isn’t working.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Bucky chuckled, shoving a forkful of cold pasta into his mouth. “Of course it’s not working, you keep an old pack of cigarettes in the closet.”

He choked on a loose noodle as he saw your tear-stained face. You wiped your cheeks, your whole face felt hot. “You and I, Buck. We’re not working.”

This was it, the moment he’d been preparing for. He knew you would break sooner or later, who in their right mind would want to have an actual relationship with him. Someone who has to constantly sacrifice dinners and anniversaries, someone who risks his life on a daily basis, someone who risks the lives of loved ones on purpose. 

A few weeks back, he’d been interrogating someone linked to the Flag Smashers when he’d heard the words he’d been dreading. Your name slipped out of them like venom. They’d found out about his secret, Bucky had been guarding your love with his life but it wasn’t enough. You’d always be in danger with him.

But he couldn’t bear to leave you so he took the cowards way out. Spent more time at the compound, trained longer and drove mindlessly for hours, all so you would think he was busy with work or that he didn’t care. Maybe one day you would get tired and leave him because he sure as hell couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes and tell you it’s over.

And although he was expecting these words to come out of your mouth sooner or later, it still broke him. His heart fractured like porcelain, a deep hurt brewed in his body like a deep pit somehow appeared in his stomach.

“I understand.” He whispered, gluing his arms to his side because if he so much as touched the aura around you, he would drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. “I come with a lot of baggage and my job doesn’t really help so, I understand.”

A dry laugh escaped you, the sadness in your eyes turning into fury. “I knew what I was getting into when we started dating Buck. I knew you had hundred-year-old baggage weighing on you like a ton of bricks. I was also aware of your job description and even though I fucking hate seeing you hurt- and you have no idea how much it physically pains me to see you come through that door with a black eye and broken everything, I know it’s something I have to get over. Because I was willing to be with you, all of you.”

“We could have been like this forever, happy and in love. And every single day I would open that door and listen to the shit you have to put up with from all the people who don’t know you and clean your wounds and take care of you. I could have done that till the end of my life. But I can’t anymore, not when you lie. You’ve been lying about being at work when I know damned well you left hours ago. I cannot be with you if you won’t tell me what goes through your head. What troubles you. You won’t even say you love me, when I know for a fact you do.”

“You wait every single night until you think that I’ve fallen asleep and you say you love me over and over because you think I can’t hear you. But I do. And I love you, I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much that- that I’m willing to let you go. Because you sure as hell don’t want to stay, for some unknown reason you won’t tell me.”

“You won’t tell me even though I’ve proven to you that I can take care of your naked soul. No Winter Soldier, no vibranium, no Hydra. Just Bucky.” Your voice cracked. “So if you won’t admit that, then you should leave.”

Your words cut through Bucky like thousands of knives, each tear that fell from your face was a reminder of why he had to leave even though his whole body begged him to stay. He would hurt you more if he stayed- so that’s what he did, he left. Without a word he walked out of the apartment that had become a true home to him for the first time in decades and never looked back. Not when you slammed the door and not when he heard you sob. 

Part 2: Hurry Back Home

Wanna read more like this? Here’s my latest post. 💖

Authors Note:

Heeeyyy everyoneee, sooo this is the first time I've posted in a loooongggg time so I hope you guys liked it. If you did please like comment reblog the whole thing! Thanksss <3

[alphajocklover]

hey there. My name is Derek. Im your average, slightly overweight gay guy from Chicago. I work as a pretty decent graphic designer downtown. And honestly, my life has gotten boring. I’ve been with the same guy for far too long. And I sometimes wish I could be one of those loud, obnoxious straight dudes you see at bars. You know the ones I’m talking about. Total jerks who make rude and crude comments to women. Muscles so big. Obnoxious loud clothing. Yeah. Is it weird that I want to be the most hated straight douchebag in the world? Haha it’d be so different

Hey Derek! I’m glad you reached out. You’re asking a question a lot of gay men have asked throughout history: Is it weird that you want to be a straight, buff, misogynist douchebag? Are you a freak because a part of you wants to be the kind of guy you’ve always hated? You’ve always believed in being proud of your sexuality, in treating everyone, especially women, with respect, in common decency, equality, and respect. Usually you’d find those straight, cocky jerks as obnoxious as anyone else. But just like a lot of men (and sometimes women), both in and outside of the LGBTQ community, there are times where, even though you know you shouldn’t, you wish you were one of those guys. It’s hard to say why people get this strange desire. It could be that you’re jealous of their bodies, how they’re so muscular, beefy, and powerful. It could be that you admire their confidence, the way they cockily smirk like they rule the world. It could be that you long to be like them because, despite their flaws, they’re the manly men that society has always told men we should all be.

Or it could be that you know, deep down, that they’re what you were meant to be. That they’re what you could have been, should have been, and would have been… if you hadn’t been turned gay.

Before we continue I wanna make a few things clear. Being gay isn’t a choice, you can’t cure gayness with dumbass abusive therapy, gay people do not turn other people gay, and homosexuality is a perfectly natural thing that some people just are. But… not all people. There are some people in this world, like you Derek, who have been turned gay. You were supposed to be straight. In fact you were supposed to be a straight, beefy, misogynistic, douchebag. But someone changed you, derailed your fate so that you’d be different. They saw you, didn’t approve, and so they went back in time and changed you. It’s not just you either. There are thousands of supposedly gay men who are really straight douchebags who got turned.

The group of people responsible for these changes are mysterious and covered in shadow. Those who know of them call them the SAD, the Society Against Douchebags. Not much is known about them, just that they come from the far future and use a strange machine to go back in time and change the lives of certain straight douchebags through manipulation and futuristic technology. The reason you were always so unathletic and heavy? You had nano machines working against you, keeping on the weight and taking down your endurance. The reason you could never seem to say the right thing and always embarrassed yourself around cool guys? They’d use those same machines to make you feel awkward and uncomfortable so you’d say the wrong thing. The reason you’re gay? They altered your brain chemistry.

But I know someone who can help you turn back.

A group like the SAD, one that so recklessly changes the timeline, doesn’t go unnoticed forever. Eventually another group formed, one that fought back against them. They call themselves the Douchebag Revolution. They’re exactly what they sound like. Straight, buff douchebags who either didn’t get targeted for one reason or another or were saved from their false lives and wanna take down the people who tried to destroy them. They go around, liberating guys like your from their fake fag lives, fighting the SAD and living that douchebag lifestyle.

Personally I try to keep out of their whole time war thing. I don't think what the SAD does is good, but time travel is so fucking complicated I’d like to avoid anyone who uses it all together. Plus the Douchebag Revolution is pretty homophobic, so they wouldn’t accept an actual gay guy like me in their ranks. But I do have a few contacts in the Douchebag Revolution who tolerate me. I could get you in touch. They have a way to reverse what the SAD did to you. A serum. It’ll make you exactly what you always should have been: a straight, beefy, asshole. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to take it. You can stay this way, always wondering who you would have been. But I don’t think that’s what you want. I can see it in your eyes. You know what you are.

You’re a douchebag. Welcome to the Revolution.

Don’t worry about your boyfriend. Either he’s an agent of the SAD or he’s a fellow turned Douchebag. Either way your new friends will help you take care of it.

**another G2S story. I know they’re controversial but they’re so much fun. Definitely going to revisit the douchebag Revolution idea sometime.**

[bettyfrommars]

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 4: Never Say Never

18+ONLY, MDNI, eventual smut, mention of blood and violence, a knife wound, mention of wounds, Jason being a typical prick, mention of assault, Steve gets hurt, misogynistic language, some angst, hurt and comfort. Reader goes by the nickname Bird. Eddie is in his late 20's and Reader is 21.

word count: 4.3k

masterlist playlist

Summary: You learn everything you need to know about both Jason and Troy while getting a taste of what Chrissy has had to deal with. Eddie tries to push you away but fails miserably. Robin and Steve are in a dire situation, and you turn to one of the only people you trust. A new opportunity presents itself and you decide to take the leap.

A/N: It's been so fun to put all of these characters into the setting of this beloved film. For those of you who are familiar with Dirty Dancing, I hope you enjoy a few of the scenes in this that were taken directly from it.

The next day, the three of you made your way to another spot on the lake in a rented boat for a picnic.  Under the shade of a tree while your dad napped and Kim read a romance novel, you tried to draw Eddie. The curve of his mouth, the way his bangs skirted his eyebrows, the blunt nature of his nose.  When you got home, you practiced in the attic for an hour, thought about throwing your cello off the balcony just to watch it splinter to pieces, and then you found yourself staring out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Eddie.  

After dinner, you were the last one to leave the table, and the waiter Jason nudged your shoulder.

“Your dad seems really cool,” he gave a toothy, golden boy smile. “He signed a copy of one of his books for my mom.”  

“He’s alright, I think I’ll keep him,” you said without returning the smile.  Kim stopped in the archway to the foyer to turn and check if you were following, but you waved her off.  Getting to know Jason was not high on your priority list, but you remembered Eddie flicking his cigarette at him that first day you arrived, and your curiosity was piqued.

Jason bent at the waist to stack some plates together, giving you a wink over his shoulder.  “Listen, I know you’re kinda seeing Troy and all, but if you ever want to hang out we can—”

“I’m not seeing Troy,” you hissed, making sure the last few tables full of people couldn’t hear you. You were about to say he was “just a friend” but he wasn’t even that.  “I barely know him.”

“Well, that’s not what he says,” Jason cocked his head, placing the used silverware on the tray as he moved around the table.  “But anyway, if  you ever want to have some fun, get away from this place or whatever, I could show you some stuff,” he lifted his eyebrows a few times suggestively.  “Wait, you’re over 18, right?”

You followed him, ignoring his offer.  “What did Troy tell you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he chuckled, as if it were funny. “Hey, I saw you talking to Chrissy the other day and, friendly advice? I’d keep your distance from that whole group if I were you.”

You held up the flower vase so he could pull the tablecloth off.  “How do you know Chrissy?”

Jason cleared his throat, glancing at the people eating across the way.  “I guess you could say Chrissy and I had some fun last summer.”

“She was your girlfriend?”

“She wishes,” he scoffed.  “God created girls like Chrissy for one reason and one reason only.”

“Oh? And what reason is that?” You stopped helping him and stepped back.

“C’mon Bird, I know you’re from the suburbs, but you’re not that naive,” he moved the bin of dirty dishes to an empty chair. 

He stepped closer and leaned in, whispering. “Girls like Chrissy, with serious daddy issues, they’re a great fuck, but no one wants to marry them. Same reason your boyfriend Troy had a turn with her.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You said through gritted teeth, an internal rage building as you watched his mouth, picking up a piece of silverware as you went. 

“She hides it well at work, but Chrissy’s one of those satanic metalhead freaks you’d never want to be seen in public with.  Not if  you had any self respect anyway.”

He continued, and you followed him over to the alcove by the kitchen, out of view from the other customers.  “Some people matter and some people don’t, that’s all I’m saying. If she thought Troy would ever get serious with a girl like her, that’s her fault, not his.”

“Is that why I saw them arguing the other day? She wanted to be with him but he ended it?”

You were pushing the boundaries of gossip, but could tell Jason enjoyed the attention.

“I doubt it, those two were never serious,” he moved back for another waiter to pass by.  “Chrissy keeps threatening to tell Joyce that Troy forced himself on her the last time they were together, but we all know that’s a lie.  She was practically begging for it.  Plus, it’s her word against his, and everyone knows she’s a whore.”

“I see.”

Jason leaned in so close his lips were almost grazing your ear.  “If you want to come by later, my cabin number is—”

The fork you had in your hand jabbed between his legs, points finding their soft target with ease.  Jason let out a high-pitched curse that made a few heads turn, but he was helpless not to back up as you moved forward, forcing him further down the hallway, out of sight.  

“Whattt the fuck, shit, fuck you, bitch, what the shit—”

When you pushed the utensil in further, he whimpered a gasping plea to stop, but your aim made him too vulnerable to move. 

You leaned in so that your body was close to his in the darkness of the corner, close enough to smell the cheap cologne he wore.  “Do you have any idea how powerful the lawyers are that work for my dad? Try anything with me or Chrissy, and you’ll be sorry you ever met me.”

You stepped back and he coughed, bending over to cover his crotch with both hands, trying to catch his breath.  

“You’re a fucking cunt,” he spat.

You charged forward again, forcing him to stumble back, putting his hands up as a form of surrender.  

You winked, and threw the fork at him on your way out, letting it clatter to the ground.  

—-------

The adrenaline was still pumping when you were halfway back to your cabin on foot and spotted Eddie.  He was cutting across the grass from the sidewalk, heading away from you.

“Eddie!”

But he didn’t falter, as if he couldn’t hear you, but that was impossible.  Unless he had headphones on? Nope, you didn’t see any.  

He picked up his pace.  

Instinct told you maybe he didn’t want to be bothered, or he was in a hurry somewhere, but your buzzing brain overrode all of the logic.

“Hey, do you have a second?” You finally caught up to him on the lawn under the trees where the outside movie was usually playing.

He stopped abruptly and dropped his shoulders, taking a breath before he turned, albeit reluctantly, to look at you.  His expression was weary, if not wholly nonplussed.

“What’s up?” His tone was cold as he wet his lips and braced his hands at his hips.  His toolbelt and his staff shirt were still on, as if he were on the clock so late in the evening.  “I’ve got a…thing to get to.  But if you need something, you just gotta ask up at the front desk. Or dial 0 on the phone in your—-””

“A thing at the Hideout?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened at that.  You looked fucking adorable standing there with your hands balled into fists as if you were bout to punch him.  

He breathed out, looking everywhere but your face.  “Don’t you have some other vacation thing you should be doing right now? Like charades in the west lobby or salsa dancing on the veranda?”

You crossed your arms over your chest.  “I suppose anything would be better than this lame conversation.”

The retort made his brows jut up.  “Well, keep on walking, your highness,” he extended his arms in a flowing gesture.  “Don’t let a lowlife like me stop you.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

So, he turned and continued on his way, wood hammer handle slapping his thigh from its side holster.  But it only took a few steps for him to halt, cursing through gritted teeth when he realized he couldn’t walk away from you, it just wasn’t that easy.

When he spun around, you were standing in the same spot but with your back to him.  “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

You pivoted on your heel, prepared to be cunty right back, but you couldn’t help but soften once your eyes met.  You could’ve made something up in that moment, or you could’ve feigned forgetfulness, but instead, you told him the truth.

“I just wanted to see you.” You swallowed hard and so did he.

Eddie stiffened; a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth.  He didn’t smile though, he couldn’t.  Such a gesture would betray everything he did not want to feel at that moment.  A pregnant silence lingered thick in the space between you while he worked his jaw, once again trying to avoid looking directly at your face. He wasn’t ready to have those types of feelings, especially for someone he could never have.  

“There is something I have to do first, but I’ll be at the Hideout later if you want…I mean, if you want to walk down there and have a beer…that’s where I’ll be.”

“I’d like that,” was all you should’ve said, but then you added.  “I like beer.”

—-----

Your heart was in your throat as you made your way back from the cabin in a fresh change of clothes.  You practiced the things you would say when you saw Eddie again, in case your brain to mouth connection betrayed you again.  

The path you were on led down beyond the tennis courts and the golf course, and then along a strip of parking near the employee cabins. The Hideout was not too far off, you noticed, but then there were bright headlights beaming at you, and you kept your head down, pumping your arms to the beat of your own thoughts.  

But then you heard a scream.

It was someone in distress, and it sounded like…Robin? 

Stuttering to a halt, you squinted looking into the headlights that were a good many yards away, not yet able to make out a person or even what type of car was there.  

“Hello?” You stepped from the sidewalk, inching closer, but your words were only met with the sound of a door slamming. “Are you okay? Who is there?”

Robin came toward you then; there was what looked like blood smeared on the front of her shirt.  

“Bird!” She seemed so relieved to see you, hurrying forward with tear-soaked cheeks. She was speaking in a tense whisper, checking around to see if there were others who might hear her. “Have you seen Eddie?”

You forgot how to speak as you took in the situation, mouth agape.  “Are you…hurt? What’s going on?”

“I’m–I’m fine, it’s Steve,” a sob caught in her throat.  “I need to find Eddie.  Can you help me?”

“Yeah of course,” you gushed, following her to the van to maybe see what the damage was.  

She opened the passenger door to the van and Steve would’ve fallen out if she hadn’t caught him.  He was slumped there like dead weight, his face a sheet of white.

You hurried to help hold him up and your hand at his hip slipped along something warm and viscous over his jeans in the dark.  His head lolled forward and he mumbled something incoherent, but it was good to know he was conscious.

From what you could see, one side of his face was swollen, his lip split open and bleeding.  The hand closest to you looked raw and angry like he’s been punching a brick wall, and there were cuts on his arm from where he’d tried to block the strikes.

“One of them had a switchblade,” Robin gushed.  “Motherfuckers, they stabbed him and I—-there were too many of them.  We didn’t know.  My ex, she had all of her friends there.  She lied and told them Steve hurt her.  He’d never even met her before and then—-”

“Robin, we need to get him to a hospital,” you propped Steve back up in the seat, ready to get behind the wheel if necessary. “He looks like he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“No hospitals!” They both said in unison, but Steve’s voice was more of a groan. “I can take care of him.  Help me get him back to my cabin?”

“But, Robin—” you were genuinely concerned for his welfare, but also could not force them to go.

“This isn’t the first time Steve’s been hurt, okay? They find out he’s been involved in any type of fight and he’ll be on his ass. Help me, please.”

With Steve’s arms hooked around each of your shoulders, you went step by step.  Steve barked in pain a few times as your free hand hugged the clothing to his wound.  You could tell his leg was hurt too, as he was having a hard time walking.  

Halfway to Robin's cabin, which was maybe a 100 yards up the sidewalk but felt like 10 miles, Jamie, Eddie’s new assistant came rushing down off of his nearby porch.

“What the fuck happened?” He moved to help you, to shift Steve’s weight onto him.

“Go get Eddie please? Tell him to hurry!”  

Jamie looked from you to her, calculating where he thought Eddie would be, and then took off at a jog.  

By the time you made it to the cabin, a handful of other employees were rushing in to help as well, following Robin’s instructions as she told them to put a clean sheet on her bed and boil some water.  Once he was safe on the bed, more people rushed in, and you sunk back in the crowd.

They said no hospitals, but you knew someone who could help.  

—------

You couldn’t remember running back to your cabin, it all happened so fast, your brain could barely keep up with your feet.  Not to mention that you hated running.  You paused at the door, hoping your dad wasn’t awake.  You couldn’t let him see the blood on your clothes, he’d overreact in the worst way, and then the cops would be involved.  Not to mention the fact that you’d lied earlier and said you were going to hang out with Troy.

Just in case, you took off  your stained sweater and tucked it under your arm, revealing a clean tank top underneath.  Thankfully, the house was dark and quiet, and you tip-toed in a rush to your aunt’s room.  

“Kim?” 

She was on her side with a pillow over her head.

You rushed up and sat on the bed, jostling her a bit until she pulled the pillow away and blinked at you.

“What the—what’s going on?” She sat up. “Is your dad okay?”

“No, he’s fine,” you whispered, tugging at her arm.  “But I need you to come with me.”

“You need me to come with you now?” she balked, swiping hair out of her face, scrambling for her eyeglasses to look at the numbers on the bedside clock.  “Bird, it’s almost midnight.”  

She kicked her legs off the bed with a groan, watching you dig through her closet.  You pulled out her leather, Swiss Army medical bag with all of her emergency travel supplies in it and slung it over your shoulder.

“I need your help,” you paused to make sure you were being quiet enough.  “Someone’s hurt.  I can’t explain right now, there’s no time. Please just trust me.”

She could see the fear and the emotion in your eyes, and didn’t ask any more questions as she went over to pull some clothes out of her drawers, removing her nightgown to get dressed as fast as she could.  

—------

You filled her in on what you knew as you both hurried along at a fast pace.  “Bird, a stab wound is serious.  We need to call the—”

“We can’t!” You barked it much more harshly than you’d intended.  “Please,” you softened.  “It would take another hour for an ambulance to get out here anyway. Plus, I don’t think he has insurance.”

There was a crowd of people mingling on the porch around Robin’s cabin, and Kim pushed through them.  The doorway itself was blocked by bodies, and once inside, the bed with Steve on it was at the center of the room.  The employee cabins were all small and quaint, with a kitchenette against the far wall, and a beaded curtain that led to a bathroom with a standing shower. Kim raised her voice to be heard over the ones still blocking her way.

“Everyone stand back, please? I'm a nurse.”

Eddie was almost as pale as Steve when you saw him at his friend’s side.  He was shirtless under his leather jacket, atop his black, belted jeans, like he’d left his cabin in a hurry. They’d removed Steve’s shirt, revealing an expanse of chest hair, cleaned him, and put a fresh towel over the wound.  The blood wasn’t gushing, but he was gritting his teeth in pain, and the puffiness on his face made him almost unrecognizable from one side. 

Kim looked from Robin to Eddie, rolling her sleeves up.  “I need a sink to wash my hands in.  Tell everyone else to leave, please?”

While Eddie forced all of the gawkers out, he made lingering eye contact with you, and you nodded to let him know everything would be alright.

Kim scooted a metal camp chair up by the bed and opened her medical bag, snapping her latex gloves on.  “Hi there Steven, do you remember me? I’m going to take a look at you, okay?”

He swallowed. “How could I forget you?” His voice was scratchy, and when he tried to smile, he blanched in pain again. “You should see the other guy.”

“I know that must hurt,” Kim pulled a vial of liquid from one of the many pockets in her bag. “I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

She was doing her best to soothe him, keeping him apprised of every move she made, keeping him comfortable.

Eddie shut the door, locking everyone else out, including Chrissy, and came to stand behind you, cupping his hands on your arms, his warm body pressing into your back.  The sensation made you dizzy.  Maybe he needed the comfort, or he thought you did, but either way—you were grateful.  

Kim looked up.  “Robin? Is that your name?”

Robin nodded, inching closer, her eyes puffy from crying. 

“You did a really good job of cleaning his wound.  Do you think you could stay and assist? He’s going to need stitches.”

Robin was quick to nod emphatically.  “You think he’s going to be okay?” A sob hitched in her throat. “He was protecting me.  If I’d never gone there…if I…then he wouldn’t…” You went over to put your arm around her as fresh tears fell and dripped down her chin.  

Kim caught Steve staring at her, dragging long blinks as the morphine took effect, his dry lips parted and pink with blood from his broken nose.  She didn’t like answering those types of questions when she knew so little about the internal damage, but she found herself brushing hair off his forehead in a way that was not normally in her bedside manner.  

“I have a good feeling he’ll live to make plenty more mistakes,” but then she quickly dropped her hand and went back to work.

“What can I do?” Eddie asked, stepping out from behind you, to the foot of the bed. 

Kim frowned as she inspected the two broken fingers on one of Steve’s hands.  “I’d like some coffee.  Black, two sugars,” she said without looking up.  “But the rest of you might as well go get some sleep.  This is going to take a while.”

—-------

Kim begged you to go home so as to not worry your father when he woke up to an empty house, being that the sun would probably be up before she was done.  You knew she was right, but you watched Eddie and Jamie go up the hill to the main house for a coffee run with longing reluctance.  He ended up grabbing an entire coffee maker from the kitchen and a pitcher of water to make sure Kim had everything she needed for the night.  

The next day, after pretending like nothing happened over brunch, and your dad went back to writing, you returned to Robin’s cabin with Kim to check on Steve.  

Before rounding the corner to the porch, you heard Eddie’s voice before you saw him.

“...Chris, there is no way we’ll be able to find a bass player this late in the game,” he huffed.

And then Chrissy spoke up.  “We can’t just bail on this gig, Ed.  This could be huge for us.  There has to be some—”

“Who?” His tone was annoyed.  Not so much at her, but at the situation. “Emily will be out of town and Sean has a gig with his own band. We are out of options.”

“We have two weeks to find someone,” she chimed, full of hope.

“Yeah. Barely two weeks.” He leaned back against the railing of the porch so he could see him from where you and Kim stood frozen.  “That’s not enough time.”

But then Kim stepped forward.  “Hello everyone. It’s me again. Nurse Ratched.”

They both turned to greet her with enthusiasm, and Eddie extended his hand to help her up the stairs, even though she didn’t need it.  

A smile quivered on his mouth when he locked eyes with you.  

Kim knocked first, and then you heard her ask how her patient was doing once Robin let her in.  

Chrissy and Eddie got quiet, possibly wondering how much you had heard.  He wore a black, ribbed tank top under his unbuttoned work shirt, and Chrissy was in her waitress uniform as if she’d stopped by on her way to the main house.  

“Everything good?” You broke the silence, feeling awkward. 

They both spoke at once, but then Chrissy gestured for Eddie to continue. “Everything is good, it’s great.  Your aunt, what she did for Steve last night, it was incredible,” he turned to snatch his smokes off of the table as he said it.  “I didn’t know there were still people in the world willing to help strangers like that.”

“She’s pretty terrific,” you swallowed, noting the looks that the two kept exchanging. “What about the two of you? I guess this means you are out a bass player for a while?”

Besides the obvious trauma to his face and stomach, fingers on Steve's hand were broken from how hard he’d fought back.  Even though Kim had been able to set them in splints, and they would eventually heal, it’d be a while before he could pick up a guitar again.  She couldn’t speculate on the nerve damage, but there was a chance the dexterity would never be the same.

Chrissy sat on the edge of the railing with her hands folded in her lap.  “Our band was invited to play at a show called Pedal to the Metal.  It’s a once in a lifetime chance to get our name out there,” she glanced up at Eddie but he was staring at the ground, working his jaw.  

“There’s always next year,” he deadpanned in a way that made you think he didn’t believe it.

“We won’t get invited again and you know it, Ed,” she tucked some hair behind her ear and avoided eye contact with you.  “The Dead Alive and Heaven’s Harlots will be there. I’ve been dying to meet them.”

“Who are The Dead A—-” you were about to ask but then Eddie interrupted.

“Fuck those bands and fuck that stupid festival,” he grumbled. “We don’t need them. When Steve recovers, we’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces.”

The wheels in your brain were spinning so fast, you wouldn’t be surprised if smoke came out of your ears.

You cleared your throat.  “Do you think maybe you could teach someone to play bass?”

Eddie barked a laugh out of his nose.  “In two weeks? Hilarious.”

“I mean,” you scrambled for the right words, hoping they wouldn’t laugh you off the porch. “W-what if they already know strings really well? Like maybe, the cello? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to learn?”

Chrissy shrugged, not sure where you were going with the story, but Eddie cocked his head at  you, eyes narrowing.  

“It’s possible,” Chrissy frowned down at her lap and then swept her gaze up to you. “Do you have someone in mind?”

Before you could answer, Eddie waved his hand in the air and leaned his shoulder against the cabin.  “Nope. No way,” he popped the “p” and shook his head, hair falling in his face.  “It wouldn’t work, we don’t have enough time.”

Chrissy got to her feet.  “C’mon Ed, someone like that could learn 5 songs in 2 weeks if they wanted to! But do we even know anyone like that?”

You swallowed hard, waited for both of them to stare at you, and then offered a nervous smile.  

-----

Thank you to everyone reading and enjoying this little world. You know I always love hearing what you think ❤️🚬

------

taglist: @micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch @ohmeg@marrowfrog00 @ahoyyharrington

[sepublic]

Given Luz’s arc in the Boiling Isles was about expecting fantasy only to encounter reality underneath, I find it fitting her villain follows a similar trajectory. We are introduced to the enigmatic Emperor Belos, a strange and mysterious villain wielding arcane magic. Many of us understandably speculated that he was some sort of lich or other type of demon, and in the end…

He’s just some guy; Just another bigoted human. Even with his human persona Philip Wittebane, he attempts to frame himself as some tragic character unfairly hurt by society…

But again, there’s the simpler truth; He’s just an immature jerk. That’s why he’s disliked. And it’s interesting, how instead of the romanticized, sympathetic, larger than life villain, we have one closer to reality, and accurate to the actual people in power that Belos is based off of; Entitled (wo)manchildren with delusions of grandeur. It’s fittingly mundane and literally what Luz struggled with back home.

Belos is every conservative politician who thinks he’s been deeply wronged by minorities, and blames them for “taking away” a loved one who clearly made their own choice and was happier for it, because self-perceived victimization provides a handy excuse for their banal actions. They say they’re maintaining the sanctity of society but really they just want to control their perfect little worlds, and have more than enough devil’s advocates. Think of guys like Elon Musk; Some mediocre white dude who thinks of himself as particularly exceptional and self-made, when really he just stood on the shoulders of others and stole, and throws a tantrum whenever he doesn’t get his way.

He’s the suburban middle-class white dude who’s bored and thinks shooting lions in Africa makes him a big man. He’s the sweet little brother who started watching a misogynistic streamer and is now a raging bigot who refuses to grow out of it, worshipping other mediocre white men. He’s a mundane bully with no greater reason than that it’s easier to hurt others and put them down to make himself feel taller by comparison; Not so much because he’s been hurt (if at all), but because he doesn’t care.

He’s the bully who cheers for Dumbo because he lacks the self-awareness to realize he’s the villain onscreen. And people like that often don’t accept help, and sometimes they never needed it to begin with because their issues don’t come from a lack of compassion from others. You should try to understand others, but sometimes all you’ll find in some is banality. Belos isn’t some type of made up creature, at his core he’s the exact kind of person you’ll encounter in real life, hence his mundane parallel in Jacob Hopkins.

And this is all very fitting for Luz’s arc; Luz went to the Boiling Isles expecting some form of escapism, but in the end, the exact same problems she encountered at home followed her there. The same type of person that contributed to Luz being deemed deviant in the U.S. also plays a role in Luz feeling unwelcome in the Demon Realm; A Puritan white man, one of the progenitors for the founding fathers of America, and its evangelical culture.

The friends Luz meets, and the people she resolves conflicts with (some of whom do fulfill the sympathetic antagonist niche), are just like you and I. There’s no real difference between witches/demons and humans. What Luz learns in the Boiling Isles still applies to her human life; She didn’t succeed in running away, but actually unwittingly grew to handle it and meeting new people. She developed the self-awareness needed to avoid becoming like those who originally hurt her, and after helping so many others was allowed to realize she was also entitled to setting boundaries and prioritizing her own health.

Luz finding the isles is fundamentally no different than a person in real life moving somewhere else, and/or finding a community of other humans like them, with the presence of kids like Masha and their friends displaying how that applies in real life. Luz still learned how to deal with reality, she had it in herself all along. She didn’t ignore her problems in the Boiling Isles, she faced them there with support. The Demon Realm and Luz’s problems there aren’t all that different from her ‘real’ life, they’re just as real and that’s why they still matter and are good for Luz. It’s all one big metaphor in the sense that it’s equivalent and applicable, and Luz figured that out like the audience did; Her ‘escapism’ was just her life back home but with a different coat of paint, and that’s good.

[sparrowssally]

*cracks knuckles* Yet another PSA about the Tennant and Sheen families…

Alright, here goes it. I don’t give a fuck if you ship Aziraphale and Crowley. I’m a huge shipper of them myself, so it’s all good! Love them, want the world for them, etc etc. HOWEVER, if you want to:

1. ship David and Michael romantically

2. want to use shipping David and Michael as an excuse to be blatantly misogynistic against their respective partners (Georgia and Anna)

3. want to allege that they are being “trapped” in their marriage by their partners “strategically” having kids

Then get the fuck off my blog. Seriously. There’s no place for you here.

You’re literally hoping that David Tennant, a man with five kids, will leave his wife of 12 years (whom he clearly loves) to end up in a hyper-sexual romantic relationship with Michael Sheen, who would also have to leave his partner as well, with whom he has two young children and who he seems very happy with. You’re literally wanting happy families to get broken apart so that your selfish ship can sail. It’s disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourselves.

I get wanting to have queer representation, it’s greatly needed and there is always room for more of it. However, wanting to assign a queer identity to someone who hasn’t publicly acknowledged that they identify that way is NOT okay. I don’t care who they are, celebrity or not. If you want to see queer representation, then Aziraphale and Crowley are RIGHT THERE. Don’t wreck real people’s relationships with their partners—and their friendship with each other—just because you want your ship to sail. If for some reason David and/or Michael want to come out in the future on their own, then that’s for them to do when they feel comfortable, and speculating about their identities without them saying anything is just weird and gross.

AND ANOTHER THING! All y’all who write essay-long posts analyzing every single social media thing about Michael, David, Georgia, and Anna: y’all need to get a fucking life. Go outside. Touch grass. PLEASE stop treating these very real people like they’re puppets in your grand romance story. I guarantee you that their lives are probably not NEARLY as fascinating and scandal-filled as what you think they are. And believe it or not—because I know y’all LOVE to use this as “evidence”—people are allowed to not be all smiley and lovey-dovey in selfies and photos with their partners, and for many people, teasing their partners is part of their relationship! *gasp* I know right?? Shocking. It literally doesn’t mean anything that Georgia and David tease each other or that Michael and Anna tease each other, and that they all occasionally aren’t smiling in photos with each other. That’s normal person behavior and I’m begging y’all to understand that.

I know this post probably isn’t going to be seen by the weirdo people who need to see it the most, but whatever. I just really needed to get this off my chest.

[rainy-writers]

When are y’all gonna get it through your heads that no one actually cared if the Velaryon boys were bastards or not? They could have come out with white hair, violet eyes, the whole shebang and the rumor still would have been spread because it was meant to undermine RHAENYRA and her claim, nothing else!!

It was a misogynistic attempt to paint her as reckless and irresponsible and another way for the greens to push for Aegon. It was fear mongering, meant to say “Hey! Choose Aegon because you guys don’t want a bastard on the throne, right?” And it didn’t fucking work, save for on the idiot audience that still eats this shit up and genuinely believes that the dance happened bc Harwin and Rhaenyra weren’t married, rather than realizing the whole theme is MISOGYNY!! ITS ABOUT USURPING A WOMAN NO MATTER WHAT SHE DOES, SOLEY BC SHES A WOMAN AND NOTHING ELSE!!

If she had no kids = Vote for Aegon cause she’s barren!!

If she had kids = Vote for Aegon cause they’re bastards!!

If she has kids that look exactly like her = Vote for Aegon bc her kids are clearly Daemon’s bastards am I right? Vote Aegon bc he’s clearly the more responsible of the two with his trueborn kids!!

It. Does. Not. Matter.

And it makes me so mad, especially when people say that the realm wouldn’t have accepted Jace like DUDE. Nobody is just casually going around saying these kids are bastards, save for the people that KNOW they can get away with it if they’re caught bc Viserys wouldn’t dare punish them. Aka:

Alicent, Otto, and her nightmare kids. That’s it. No, some random Lord in the Reach wasn’t preaching about Jace, Luke, and Joff being bastards. I sincerely hate to burst your bubble (NOT!) but you guys as an audience care more than the actual people that live in this world and it’s so funny.

Basic media literacy will tell you that NO, Westeros did not care. How do I know? Well it’s simple really. If they cared then majority of them simply wouldn’t pledge to support Rhaenyra, clearly knowing that Jace is her heir??

I mean, these are all of the houses that supported Rhaenyra AND Jace:

I mean do yall honestly think Cregan Stark thought Jace was a bastard when he swore an oath in BLOOD with Jace, marched PERSONALLY to the south AFTER Jace was dead, and tried to literally kill the CHILDREN of the Lord’s who rose up against him and Rhaenyra?

Do you think Lady Jeyne gaf when she personally pledged to support him? Lord Manderly? Hm.

No, they didn’t lmao.

So please, kill this narrative that “There was going to be rebellion if Jace ascended the throne” and “The realm wouldn’t accept him bc all of them secretly knew he was a bastard despite having no proof because his father, his grandfather and THEIR KING never said otherwise.”

It would not have happened y’all. And one day you blood purist, Velaryon boys haters are going to get it through your head that YES !! They were legitimate because no one ever said otherwise. It was never proven. Rumor isn’t proof. Hair isn’t proof for fucks sake. You need actual words from Laenor himself saying that RHAENYRA cheated and those boys are Harwin’s. You need Corlys passing over Luke for Driftmark and outright saying it’s because he’s a bastard to even get a SHREAD of doubt from the great houses.

One day you guys are going to realize that those boys were loved and no matter how much you try and discredit them, they will always be legitimate. Whether you like it or not, Viserys was content with Jace being on the throne after him, THE REALM was content, and Corlys Velaryon was ready to die peacefully knowing Luke was going to be after him. Hell, he damn near handed that boy the keys so don’t you dare say Luke didn’t deserve to inherit anything.

And sorry for the long post but some of yall are really starting to piss me off. Never mind that this is fiction, your attitude towards these boys is disguising and saying that they don’t deserve a good life, that they dont deserve things that were literally GIVEN to them with no complaints, and even going as far as to call them dirty or saying they deserve to die all because their mommy and daddy weren’t married is fucking disgusting.

This “bastards don’t deserve anything,” attitude needs to stop being preached by real life people. Hell, some of the people saying this are literally in the wedding photos of their own parents wedding LMAO. It concerns me on how much disregard you guys have for adopted kids (which is basically what they are to Laenor), and I’d hate to see the shit you preach in real life. Acting like blood actually matters in order for someone to be considered family.

Because regardless of what you believe, had their mother not been usurped because she was a WOMAN, Jace would have ruled, Luke would’ve gotten Driftmark and, yes, the world of Westeros would’ve kept fucking spinning.

By law these boys were legitimate and people seem to forget they came out of Rhaenyra’s coochie so REGARDLESS, they are Targaryen. Like unless Viserys or Daemon was their father, they were always going to be half NOT Targaryen lol…Just like Alicent’s kids. It just so happens that they’re half Strong, but again, it doesn’t matter, because Jace gets his claim from RHAENYRA, not his father, so even if Harwin was married to Rhaenyra he still would’ve been the heir?? Even if it wasn’t Laenor who was his father, he’d still be heir because of his mother and being married to someone does not change that.

Some people even go as far as to argue that they’re not Targaryen so Jace shouldn’t be the heir which is stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and the most blatant case of misogyny ever. Like unless your father cloned himself then you STILL get half your genes from your mother dumbass. They are as much Targaryen as the Hightower kids with their DARK HARIED PARENT, it just so happens that their Targ side is from a woman, not a man. Which, like I said, if you don’t consider them Targaryen just bc they don’t get their claim from their father then we know what you are. 🙃

But anyways, to make a long post short, yes these boys are legitimate, they were recognized as such by:

The King himself (who they’d be inheriting from)

Rhaenyra

Laenor (their father, who they’d be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Corlys (their grandfather, who Luke would be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Rhaenys

The Realm

History

And if you still don’t believe me, here’s the official Targaryen family tree from Fire and Blood which all of Westeros sees :)

You see how they’re listed as Velaryon? You see how they’re directly linked to Laenor and there’s no little astric saying how they’re bastards? Yeah me too.

PS - Read Fire and Blood as well. This whole argument about them being bastards is literally stemmed from no more than two paragraphs, IF that. And their legitimacy is never brought up again.

[litiyerses]

calypso having an emotion-centered character and being viewed & getting treated as the ‘evil woman’ is actually a reflection of how every woman's emotions are villainized when they’re shown vividly and are a main part of their character in popular media.

in general media and riordanverse specifically, women with emotions are always looked down upon because showing emotions is regarded as a dramatic act so when a female character shows and acts on their emotiotions they get degraded and instantly despised because of it. this is done with every single female character while male characters who show emotion are treated like saints and found worthy of self redemption. this happened with annabeth when she didn’t want to believe luke was the bad guy and wanted to try bring him back because she was manipulated by him her entire life, meanwhile luke, who did batshit crimes like causing hundreds of innocent deaths, manipulating little girls by flirting with them, admitting his crush to a 16 year-old at his ripe age of 23, is remembered as a hero and considered ‘redeemed himself’ after sacrificing himself while annabeth was called insufferable when she didn’t believe he was evil in the first place. let’s not forget piper, who’s a lesbian that was forced into a relationship with a man by a goddess and thought she was in the wrong for not feeling right with jason. during the entire relationship she was experiencing a very hard comphet and couldn’t figure herself out because of the fake memories, everybody was bashing her when she was acting confused, when she was, in fact confused. i have a longer post about this specific topic, so if you guys wanna check it out it’s right here. 

 coming back to calypso, first we need to clear out the misconceptions about her curse on percy that affected annabeth. she wasn't blind nor was personally attacking annabeth, her curse was to make someone feel like how she was feeling all time and that’s why percy and annabeth couldn’t reach out to one another while being right next to each other. annabeth’s blindness came from the titan she defeated in the sea of monsters and is actually the first curse to be put by the arai on them, so it has nothing to do with calypso. the curse was affecting annabeth because she happened to be the person percy loved and was right next to him. if percy was there alone either percy would feel alone and abandoned or the curse wouldn’t affect him at all, since there’s no person he can go back to save. and the curse itself wasn’t even a death wish type of curse she just wanted to be heard, be acknowledged and wanted free off her island. not to forget the curse wasn't harming or killing any of them yet it’s still demonized more than by literally every other thing that happened in the books. nothing luke has ever done is seen as evil as her curse just because it was by her and i’m pretty positive if something like this was shown in pjo by luke it would be glossed over and romanticized in the fandom. further proof of how a male character's actions get brushed off and forgiven easily but soon a female character does something even slightly questionable they get villainized on the spot.

she is also despised because she doesn't let everyone's favorite man get away with his misogynistic stuff. calypso doesn't treat leo any worse than he treats her. whenever she starts arguing it is a response to something leo has said or done, which in the most case she's in the right but leo gets so much slack from his past and being fandom favorite to be held accountable for the way he treats people. he's always been written as a misogynist, he never treated any women with any respect. he always had some sort of disrespect for every female character he seems have some sort of closure with like piper, hazel, calypso, the list goes on, but yet calypso is always expected to be more 'tolerable and understanding' bc of his trauma, as if every single character in the series isn't written upon a single trauma they had and have their character built on it. and he always had a problem dealing with others and their emotions and instead of expecting him to be working to change that, calypso is expected to adjust his manners.

oddly enough, she's also expected to show some gratitude towards leo for saving her, when she never asked him to do so and not for a second believed that he was actually going to come back when he said he would. is she grateful that he came back and freed her? yes. should she feel any obligations to make him feel greater because of it? NO. everything leo did for calypso was his and only his choice and nobody else's. calypso is happy that he did so, but expecting her to tolarate every single thing he does solely because of that is wrong.

[communistkenobi]

I think when people describe dark hallways or all-grey office cubicles as “liminal,” they’re using it as a synonym for creepy, which is not really accurate. What’s being reached for is a sense of dislocation, of being in a place that is not meant for you or is otherwise hostile to you in some way. “Liminal” is limited in its ability to describe those feelings, because the word is typically meant to refer to a place that exists only to get you somewhere else (like an airport, for example, or an interstate highway). “Liminal” isn’t synonymous with “a place of horror,” but I think it’s become that in the tumblr lexicon.

I think a much more robust term for what people are trying to describe is ontological (in)security. Ontological security in geographic scholarship means “a confidence that the world exists as it appears to be.” To give a very basic example, there are handles on doors because the function of a door is to act as a gateway to another space, and the handle is there to open that gateway. You trust that doors with handles are meant to be open and stepped through, and you also trust that door handles will always be placed at a standing person’s waist height - if you’ve ever seen a character try to open a door that leads nowhere in a story, it’s playing with your ontological security. Likewise, you see a flight of stairs and understand implicitly that it exists to facilitate pedestrian traffic to and from a specific place. It’s not a place to have a party with your friends, and you wouldn’t think to go to a stairwell to socialise.

To be ontologically insecure, on the other hand, is to exist in a place that is built for purposes that are not available to you. This is most commonly used in disability scholarship to refer to inaccessible entrances or stairwells - these things exist for able-bodied people only, and the structure of the built environment is now acting as a mechanism to divide people into groups who can use the space and groups who cannot. This is part of the way that ableism essentialises disability, which is then reproduced in the built environment - urban structures are taken as neutral, and if you can’t navigate them effectively, something is wrong with you individually (which of course is not true).

But this idea can be deployed for a variety of contexts - suburbs once built for the wealthy car-driving middle class typically do not have sidewalks in them. And now in many places in North America, suburbs are being inhabited by much poorer families (who are much less likely to own a vehicle), who are being driven out of the city core because now that same wealthy middle class has decided a condo is more fashionable than a detached house. This leaves people to live in places that aren’t built “for them,” to walk in the middle of roads or on lawns because there’s no space for them to walk, forcing them into hostile situations to either be hit by cars or yelled at by neighbours for walking on their grass. These spaces produce ontological insecurity, a sense that you are inhabiting a place that is not meant for you, and because of this you are frequently made less safe as a result.

This is where the critique that cities are structurally ableist, or racist, or misogynistic comes from. Urban environments are usually built by the ruling class, whose interests and aesthetic sensibilities get reproduced in the roads they build and houses they erect, and if you don’t happen to fit the profile of the ruling class (ie most people), some parts of a city are always going to be less safe for you. This is why in extremely spread-out, low density cities (LA for example), public transit is difficult to implement on a structural level (on top of all the political pushback), because these spaces are structured in such a way to be hostile to certain modes of travel or behaviour (eg any mode of transit that isn’t a car). They are built for a specific ideal archetype of person, and if you don’t fit into that, you’re much less safe and much less secure.

So if you want to use this in fantasy settings or horror or whatever, you need to approach the built environment as a historical process the same way that a government or law is. Office spaces are not “liminal,” but they can be sites of horror because their physical structure compels certain modes of social behaviour, and trying to work against that grain can make you feel “out of place” - i.e., ontologically insecure.

[missmastectomy]

This is a vent post more than anything, but honestly? Despite the lip service I see a lot of gender criticals give to detransitioners, ime the Average Joe is a lot more likely to sympathize with detransitioners and to see us as fully fledged human beings. People who don’t know anything about the trans discourse aren’t ideologically involved and they’re more likely to approach us individuals first.

I’ve noticed a LOT of gender criticals and radfems basically view detrans women as “traitors” and assume the absolute worst about our motivations. I have literally seen radfems say shit like “well, I could never trust a detrans woman because she transitioned because she hates women and secretly wants to dominate me/rape me/enact misogyny on me,” radfems acting like transition ruins a person and that it’s impossible to ever come back from that. As if there aren’t literally women who used to hold all kinds of problematic/misogynistic beliefs who eventually snapped out of it.

For all the talk about how women need only be biologically female to be women, I’m convinced a lot of the most adamant GCs don’t see us as women. They literally just see us as gender freaks. They have this image in their mind of us as this weird in-between female, separate from the real women.

It’s so incredibly insulting. These people have a caricature of detrans women in their head. I highly doubt most have ever even met a detrans woman irl. It’s so stupid because most detrans women are very clearly female after they’ve been off hormones a few years. I’ve literally known women who were on hormones for years and I had no idea because they sound and look typical. Like, when I first detransitioned a lot of people thought I was male, but now I am gendered female and deal with the same shit as any other woman. And no, not every detrans woman will be able or want to assimilate back into her birth sex, but that still doesn’t take away from her status as a woman.

Detransitioners have literally gone through hell. Where the fuck is all this righteous indignation y’all level at these endos prescribing kids HRT, when you actually talk to someone who went through that? Fuck any GC who treats detransitioners like trash because you lack the basic human empathy to understand that what we went through was abuse. Most detransitioners nowadays started transitioning as children. CHILDREN. Kids who were traumatized, who had already been violated or neglected in some way. We were the ones who got swept up in a massive social experiment and we payed the price for it.

Some of y’all are repulsive. We are human beings, not pawns in your culture war. I see the same crap leveled at detransitioned men, too. Not every detransitioned man was an AGP fetishist that abused women ffs. I also know men who were gay or experienced CSA and ended up pushed into transition as kids. The way people talk to detransitioners and our bodies is disgusting. People calling Jazz Jenning’s SRS shit like a “festering, non-functional fuck hole.” What the fuck is wrong you, that was literally a teenager who was groomed into this is as a 6 year old.

At the end of the day detransitioners cannot rely on other groups, only on individual allies and ourselves. I am thankful for the feminists and GCs who sincerely care about we went through and want justice for people harmed by transition. The rest of you can piss off. Go find another toy to chew on.

[trans-androgyne]

"The people who hate trans women really do view them as men" is ceding rhetorical ground to transmisogyny. It's a claim and a framing of transmisogynist ideology on its own preferred terms, it is in itself transmisogyny. How people classify others is not a prediscursive state of affairs that they passively exist within. When people claim to view trans women as men, that framing is not merely an expression of a randomly held sentiment, it's chosen because the claim to that belief is itself of importance to the justification of the ideology. If you take a functional part of an ideological framing at face value, you submit to it. If party A attacks party B with the justification that they feared an imminent attack by party B and were acting in preemptive self defense, then taking that belief as being held in good faith is not a neutral position. You must hold people to some standards in what you allow them as a good faith belief. Misogyny does not warrant arguing against it from an animal rights perspective just because misogynists may claim to view the targets of their misogyny as cattle - this is obvious to anyone who is not a misogynist, regardless of their views on animal rights. The analogous statement holds true for transmisogynists professing to view trans women as men.

I’m sorry you feel this way about it, but I don’t think any analogies you provided are accurate to the situation. It’s more like if a racist says they think Black peoples are dangerous, and treat Black people as dangerous, I’m going to continue to believe they view Black people as dangerous. It’s important to address that in order to work to reduce racism that causes Black people to be viewed as dangerous.

This isn’t to say that trans women are treated like the average man who benefits from patriarchy. Trans women do not benefit from patriarchy like men do. They’re misgendered, degendered, and malgendered. They experience any kind of sexism that can be weaponized against them in addition to transphobia (though those things really cannot be separated). Beliefs that trans women are men dressing up as women for one reason or another is what leads to transphobia, the same way much of transphobia about trans men comes from viewing them as women pretending to be men. It’s not all of how transphobia functions but it is a core piece of it, the trans women and fems I know will tell you that as they have told me. People can still be transmisogynistic towards trans women while validating them as their gender. But it’s important to acknowledge the way they treat trans women when they don’t.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

you know it really speaks volumes when you see people on here who are afraid to post opinions/theories about a certain ship bc they don’t want an influx of hate and vitriol in their inbox from people who up intil a couple months ago were super on board with that ship themselves

like there is so much hate and violent behavior coming from some of these people and it’s concerning how we can’t enjoy characters/a ship that have been developed over six years just because they think their plot device character is the most important thing to to the show and that he plays this integral role despite having less than 30 minutes of screentime, and not having appeared in almost 6 years (his first appearances where he was only important as sn antagonistic plot device for two poc)

every fandom has drama, and there is no such thing as a perfect fan… we are all human beings, we all have flaws

but the fact that the fandom is being policed so hard by these people to the point where cast and crew are being harassed over this random character, screeners are being sent death threats for talking about what was literally shown the show, queer people are being called slurs and/or having their queerness invalidated for having valid qualms with the way this storyline has been handled

this is worrying behavior and it’s not acceptable from anyone regardless of who they ship/don’t ship…. and the fact of the matter is most of this behavior is stemming from that half of the fandom

i personally as a queer person don’t wanna see a relationship on tv in which a long-term main character is throws together with a poorly written character who has zero chemistry with him, as well as treating him with disdain and disrespect at every turn. that’s not the representation i want to see on my screen. i don’t want a queer character who has had no signs of change from when he was making casual racist and misogynistic comments in the workplace; whose only “growth” are two throwaway lines that don’t even acknowledge his involvement and complacency in the bigotry. i don’t want s character whose blatant racism is blamed on the fact that he was closeted. to me that is not good representation- that’s weaponizing queerness to say that it’s okay for queer people to be problematic because they’re queer which is NOT true at all…

your queerness does not erase your bad behavior

your queerness is not a get out of jail free card

and seeing it portrayed as such in a huge network tv show while simultaneously dragging queer women of color through the depth of despair, and completely destroying the development of another heavily queer-coded poc character by having his son taken away in one if the most egregiously poorly written and out of character plotlines of the series is such a massive disservice to queer fans- whether they accept to see it or not- bc when this is how we are portrayed in media, this is how people begin to view us

and especially in the US, this is not something i want to see going into the 2024 election when queer rights are actually being threatened by one side while the other is actively supporting genocide

[thewulf]

Crash and Burn || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request! Y/N and Jake have a very… chaotic relationship. Many ups and downs between the two Naval Aviators. One moment they’re fine the next they are at each other’s throats. Everything goes wrong for the duo in training when Y/N catches Jake’s jet wash as he tries to show off for Maverick. Hurt/Comfort. Readers call sign is Jinx.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4,000+

Arrogant. Cocky. Selfish.

Just a few words to describe your least favorite classmate, Hangman. He had mastered the art of getting underneath your skin. Phoenix always told you to play it cool around him or he’d just keep doing the same. You never learned your lesson always arguing back when he had to say some stupid misogynistic thing about female pilots. You had to hand it to Phoenix though, she never let Hangman work her up.

You hadn’t known him prior to Top Gun like your other classmates had. They gave you a forewarning when it came to Jake. Watch your back or he’d be the one shooting at it. You didn’t believe it at first, but you learned.

Quickly, you understood their warnings toward him. The world revolved around Jake Seresin to Jake Seresin. You dreaded when Mav called your name to go up in the air with him. You had yet to have any sort of success when you flew with Hangman. It always ended up in one or both of you being taken down by Mav. Jake never communicated with you always throwing you off your game. He was so good at making you feel less than.

Today was no different. You heard your name paired with Hangman’s drawing a subtle sigh out of your mouth. You let your head rest against your palm as you thought over your options. You didn’t have a back seater today. Fritz called in sick with the flu leaving you flying solo, something you rarely did. You could beg Mav to switch the teams up or you could deal with it. You opted for the first option.

Heaving your body out of your desk you slowly made your way to your teacher while the rest of the class went to the locker rooms. You really didn’t think you had it in you to deal with Jake today. Not sleeping well the previous night due to getting into a heated argument with an ex-boyfriend all your energy was zapped. Certainly not a good combination to be taking an F-18 up in.

“Mav,” You paused waiting for him to look up to you, continuing only when you had his attention, “Fritz is sick today. Don’t you think another team should go up with Hangman?”

He shook his head looking down at whatever he was working on, “No, Jinx.”

“But I don’t have a wizzo.” You frowned knowing it really didn’t make a damn difference today. You were just running the first half of the course. You didn’t really need Fritz until it was time to train to drop the bomb.

He shrugged, “You’ll fly without a back seater today. Understood?”

Letting out another small huff of annoyance you nodded, “Yes sir.”

“Good, now go get ready. You and Seresin are up first.”

“Course we are.” You nodded leaving the classroom slowly to go get changed. You’d been lucky to avoid being teamed up with him the last few training sessions, but your luck seemed to end today.

Jake was interesting to you. You certainly didn’t hate the man, but he made it so hard to actually enjoy his presence. He always had that stupid cocky grin on his face like nothing could knock it off. You had only seen him slip up with Rooster once other than that he was his usual arrogant self.

Changing quickly, you knew the faster you were up in the air the faster your session would be with Hangman. Exiting the women’s locker room, you made your way to your jet. Going through the pre-flight checklist thoroughly you didn’t hear your teammate approach you.

“Going to be able to keep up today, Jinx?” Jake leaned his frame against your jet taking a full look of you. A soft smile formed when he saw just how focused you were on your task at hand, hardly paying him any attention. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this with you. Moments where he could study you without the world knowing just what he was doing.

He met you at the Hard Deck the night before Top Gun. You seemingly knew Phoenix and Rooster from a previous deployment. You quickly grabbed Jake’s attention with that pretty smile and angelic laugh. Jake swore he could hear your giggle across the bar. A sound so pretty he’d never dare to admit it to anybody.

He grabbed your attention in any way that he could. Even if it meant being the bad guy in your reality. At least you were paying him the attention he craved from you. Quickly, he found what pressed your buttons and made sure to press them whenever he could. Just to get into a debate with you. He loved it. He adored you.

Looking up at the interruption you kept the level head on your shoulders. Trying to do what Phoenix did so gracefully, “Can you just fly the mission? Not pull your usual bullshit Seresin?”

Placing a hand on his chest he feigned hurt, “I’m wounded Jinxie.”

Ignoring him you continued, “Can you? For once.”

Smirking he started sauntering off, like he owned the damn air strip, “Doubtful darling. Gotta be fast.” He threw you a wink before disappearing into his jet.

Rolling your eyes, you tried not to let him get the best of you. It was typical Hangman behavior. One that you would never be able to crack it seemed. You thought maybe you’d be able to in the beginning. You should’ve just listened to Rooster and Phoenix instead of trying with him. All it ended in was arguments every single time you tried to have a normal conversation with the man. You couldn’t lie though, there was something so damn appealing about Jake Seresin that kept you crawling back for more.

Signing off on your paperwork you hopped into your jet. Placing your helmet on you smiled as you took in the front dash. You just loved this. It never ceased to amaze you just how lucky you were. You were able to fly jets across the world. Meeting new people and finding new cultures never got old to you. And you got to fly around on top of it all? You loved every single second of your Naval career. Not having a single regret about all of your adventures.

Taxing onto the runway you waited behind Hangman as he got the all clear. He was Dagger One in this scenario, and you were Dagger Two. Thankfully, all you had to do was keep up with him and not have him on your ass chirping you every five seconds. You hated flying as Dagger One with Hangman as your wingman. It felt like your heart would burst from the sheer stress of trying to deal with him.

You got the all clear taking off finding Hangman in the straightaway. You accelerated already noticing how fast he was moving before you even begun the timed trial. Mav raced in beside the two keeping an eye out, “Two minutes fifteen seconds until target. Time begins when Hangman clocks it. Good luck.” Mav flew off above watching the duo from his eagle eye view.

“Ready Jinx?”

You were honestly surprised he gave you any warning before he took off, “Ready when you are Hangman.”

“Let’s turn and burn baby.” You heard the clock begin. Locking your eyes onto the back of Hangman’s jet you decided he wouldn’t be getting away from you that easily this time.

You kept up for the first thirty seconds before he punched it even further, “Hangman you’re going to fast!” You yelled into your mask trying to accelerate yourself. You started losing him as he only punched it even further.

“You’re not going fast enough!” He countered.

Your eyes lowered knowing he wasn’t going to let up so you sped up as much as your comfort level would allow you, which still wasn’t fast enough, “Hangman slow down!” You began pleading with the asshole pilot.

“Speed up Y/N!”

He never used your real name. He was challenging you. Sighing to yourself you kicked it up a notch not feeling all that great with your speed and closeness to the ground, “I can’t keep up!”

You heard him audibly groan into the comms, “Jesus Jinx, fine.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as his jet dropped speed suddenly. You knew you didn’t have enough time to slow down, or you’d plow right into the back of him. Decelerating at the same time you dipped slightly to avoid crashing right into him, “Shit, Jake what the fuck was that?”

“You said to slow down so I did.” You could practically hear the cockiness lace his voice from a mile away.

“Not like that you fucking asshole.” You sighed this time feeling your heart rate go down a bit. You’d had many close encounters in the jet but nothing like that.

“Hey Jinxie. Calm down.”

“Jesus,” You grumbled positioning your jet back up behind his, “Just go Seresin.”

You weren’t sure what happened but one second you were fine the next your right engine was out and your left one started sputtering, “Fuck.” Internally cursing you didn’t have a back seater to help you talk yourself through the next few minutes. Thankfully your training kicked in.

“Right engine out. No Fire. Restarting. Left engine compromised.” Calmly you spoke into your mask.

“Jinx?” You heard Mav’s voice come in.

“Jinxie what’s wrong?” Hangman’s voice chimed in right after Mavericks. He failed to see you behind him as he sped back up.

Desperately you hit the right combination of buttons, but nothing seemed to feed the engine the fuel it needed. “Shit. Not responding. Climbing to 5,000.” You pulled you plane into the climbing position trying to buy yourself some time.

“Jinx. What’s going on?” Mav sounded concerned.

As you were in the middle of pulling up your heart sank hearing another alarm go off, “Oh shit. Left engine out. No fire. Attempting restart.” You managed to stagger out. Again, you attempted to refuel and refire the engine

Mav came down to your level eyes wide seeing neither of your engines burning, “Jinx eject!” He sounded a bit panicked you noted.

Your training was kicking in though. You had maybe five seconds to try again. After that you’d have to eject or you’d be toast, literally.

“Restarting right and left engine.” Ignoring Mav’s orders, you punched and prayed the engines would respond.

“Jinx eject now!” Maverick commanded you.

“Fuck! Eject Jinxie! Now” You didn’t see Hangman come back around surveying the situation he believed he put you into.

No sign of life from your jet really caused your heart to sink knowing you really only had one option now. Your heart started racing seeing how low to the ground you already were, 2,000 fucking feet. This was going to hurt, “Fuck, ejecting.” You pulled the handle from underneath your seat sending you into the air.

The next thirty seconds felt like a blur as you were free-falling in the air. Your parachute worked it was just terribly disorienting. You’d trained for this but had never had to do it in the field. Shuddering, you heard your jet crash into the desert below. This wasn’t going to be very easy to explain to the admiral.

You knew you were far too low to the ground when you were in the jet to make a graceful landing. You just didn’t expect how bad it would actually hurt once you hit the rocks of the desert below you. You hit the ground hard and fast, the parachute not having the proper amount feet to descend to really break your fall.

Rolling to a stop as the back of your head hit a boulder immediately you knew something wasn’t right. Hardly being able to keep your eyes open you attempted to stand up only falling right back into the same spot you rolled into, “Fuck.” You groaned closing your eyes feeling terribly weak.

You didn’t see any blood on your chest or legs which was a very good sign, but you just couldn’t keep your eyes open. The only way you seemed to stay coherent after cracking your head against the bolder was fluttering your eyes.

Hearing the faint mumbles of Mav and Hangman you couldn’t really make them out. You tried to stand again but miserably failed as your legs shook far too violently to stand on their own. A small tear fell down your face as the feeling of utter defeat began to take over. You had never experienced your body giving out on you so dramatically before. It was humbling when you couldn’t even stand on your own two feet.

Trying to keep your eyes open you focused on the words coming through your comms. You faintly heard Maverick, “Jinx, please copy.”

Before your eyes completely gave out on you, you heard another soft, “Jinxie please!” Sounding awfully familiar to Hangman’s usually annoying voice.

Opening your mouth, you so desperately wanted to let them know you were alive. You were okay. But you just couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Mav, I didn’t see a parachute, did you?” Shit, they thought you were dead? You were risky but not risky enough to kill yourself.

“I think I did. Fuck. Jinx, please copy.” He tried you one more time a little beside himself. He’d witnessed the entire accident in horrifying detail taking him right back to his own accident from years prior. You pulled your plane up just as Hangman punched it immediately shutting your right engine down and compromising the left with the wash he left behind. He’d seen it several times out in the field but nothing that bad since his own accident.

Frustrated that you couldn’t communicate with your teammates you began to cry more opting you to slide the helmet right off your head to get some fresh air. Feeling a warm trickle down the back of your neck you hesitantly turned your helmet over revealing a rather large crack near the base of it. This was a very bad sign.

Slowly you placed a hand to the back of your skull slightly horrified at the red blood that coated your hand entirely. Fuck. You knew this wasn’t good at all. Trying to stay conscious you unzipped a pant leg off your flight suit planning to use that as a cloth to apply pressure to your head wound.

With all your strength you had left you leaned your head against the boulder placing the piece of flight suit in between praying you had enough pressure to keep you awake while you waited for rescue. Realistically you knew you only had to wait a few minutes before a team of medics were on the way. They were probably already halfway to you. All you had to do now was keep your eyes open. You could do that.

Grabbing your helmet, you decided to listen to the air chatter knowing at the very least it’d keep you focused on something rather than falling into unconsciousness. It pained you to hear the desperate plea’s from not only Hangman and Mav but command as well. It seemed as if everybody was trying to get you to respond.

Again, you attempted to speak only to be met with the utter silence of nothing coming out. It’s like the rock knocked your ability to speak right out of your own head. It was a rather gut-wrenching feeling to not be able to say a word. Just to let them know that you were okay. But you couldn’t. Your body simply refused.

Another few minutes passed which felt like hours as you sat there in the beating sun. Just as you were about to give into the darkness you heard the helicopter above you. Looking over a few vehicles approached in the distance. A small smile flickered on your face knowing they finally made it to you.

Before you knew it a few medics approached you quickly triaging the situation. They realized how incoherent you really were as you tried responding to their questions but couldn’t seem to talk.

“Hey Jinx. We’re going to patch you up alright?” A familiar face leaned down brushing the hair out of your face, “Just try and stay awake, okay?” It clicked that it was your team’s physician. He knew you very well taking your vitals and stats all the time.

“Let them know we’ve got her. Critical care.” You heard him say before placing something cold around your neck.

“You’re going to be alright. We’re taking you to the base hospital.” He smiled softly at you before he gave the next round of orders to his team.

The next while was a blur of you floating in and out of consciousness mixed with tons of people asking you too many questions. None of which you could answer as your voice was still missing.

Finally, you were able to sleep given the okay from a worried looking doctor you’d never seen before. You couldn’t seem to care as unconsciousness swallowed you whole.

The faint beeping brought you out of the deep slumber you were in. Rolling your head to the side you spotted Hangman sleeping in the chair next to your bed. Initial confusion rolled over you and you unfortunately heard the beeping pick up pace rapidly.

The change in background noise brought Hangman out of the light sleep he was in. He had been waiting on you for the last twelve hours or so. Refusing to leave your side until he knew that you were okay.

The initial prognosis given to them wasn’t great. The medics noted you as delirious, out of it, non-responsive before you went out completely. It worried him beyond belief. Especially knowing it was likely his actions that got you here. Mav kept trying to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, but you got caught up in his jet wash. Just like Mav did all those years ago. It’s a freak occurrence and 99% of the time jets handle it fine. You were just one of the unlucky ones.

He looked over to you seeing your panicked expression. His face softened as he realized how much this must be for you, “Hey Jinx. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

You felt some sense of relief knowing he was real. Sitting right there. You weren’t dreaming. You were back to the land of the living. You nodded recalling having to eject from your jet. You don’t remember much after that though.

“Can you speak?” He scooted the chair closer, so he was right up on the bed, right next to you.

“Yeah.” You managed to croak out. Your throat was feeling rather dry. Likely from all the sand and dirt you inhaled out there.

Grinning at the sound of your voice he grabbed your hand, “Good, let me go get a doctor.” He began to stand up before you stopped him by grabbing at his hand like he just did yours.

“No!”

He paused cocking his head to the side studying you curiously, “Just give me a minute. They’re going to ask a lot of questions and…” You paused not sure if he was even listening. This was Hangman after all. To your utter surprise he had his eyes locked on you, soaking up your every word. You decided to continue, “My head really hurts. I don’t want to talk to them just yet.”

Sighing Hangman looked all too conflicted. What was five minutes anyway? On the other hand, if your head really hurt you that bad why didn’t you want to see a doctor? Didn’t you want the help? Opting to go with your wishes he sat back down making a note of the time, he wasn’t going to give you more than the five minutes you requested.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly seeing him sit there against his better judgement.

“Sure. Are you alright at least?”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath in, “I’m okay. I just don’t feel great.”

“You scared us up there. You scared me.” He admitted whispering it almost so you couldn’t here.

Mustering a small halfhearted laugh, “Like you really care Seresin.” His face dropped immediately after your comment. Meaning it in more of a joking manner you didn’t think he’d take you so seriously.

“Why would you say that? Of course, I care Y/N.”

“One less pilot you have to deal with.” You kept trying to joke with him, but he wasn’t letting you. Taking it far more seriously than you were.

Shaking his head he grabbed your hand, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

He groaned. Frustrated that he wasn’t so great at showing real emotion, “Acting like I don’t care. I do care. A lot.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” It slipped out way faster than intended. You didn’t want to make him feel like a total asshole, but your concussed brain had other ideas.

Head down Jake sighed, “I’m sorry Jinxie. I really am. I never would have thought… I wouldn’t have done that if I would have known…”

“It’s okay Jake.” You shushed him. You had never seen this side of the cocky Jake Seresin before. You weren’t even sure if Jake had a more human side to him. All it took was you nearly cracking your head open to get him there. Who would’ve known?

He shook his head, “It’s not though. What happened to you. Seeing your plane go into freefall and not seeing you eject was hell Y/N. And then you didn’t respond? Mav and I could only think the worst.” His stare could have bore holes into the back of your head.

Cheeks heating up you turned away from him, “Well, I’m still here.”

Jake smiled picking your hand back up feeling the urge to have you close, “Thank goodness for that.”

Stitching your eyebrows together you looked him over, “You going soft on us?”

“Not on us.”

“What?” You asked him sincerely.

“Only for you.”

Sucking in another breath you turned on your side to face him completely, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t lose you Y/N.”

Where was all of this coming from? While you had to admit he was an incredibly attractive guy you never thought in a million years he’d be going for you. All the two of you did was bicker back and forth. Sure, it never got nasty but the two of you could never agree on the same thing. Not even toppings on a pizza. There always had to be an argument between the two of you.

“Are you saying you like me Jake?” eyeing him curiously you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as you anxiously waited for his answer.

He looked up at you. Studying your face for any sign of contempt. For any sign that your repulsed by the sheer fact that not only did he have a full-on crush on you. He was sure he just might love you to.

Nodding his head in agreement it he finally admitted it out loud, “Yes Jinxie. I like you.”

Smiling to him you grabbed one of his hands this time, “You know we aren’t in middle school anymore Jake.”

“Hmm?”

“If you like someone you can be nice to them. You know instead of making them eject and landing them in the hospital.”

Chucking he looked you right in the eyes, “I’m sorry Y/N. Would you give me a chance to prove I’m not a middle school boy?”

Returning his laugh you squeezed his hand, “I’d love to get to know adult Jake.”

“Friday. 6 o’clock. I’m picking you up and taking you out to a nice dinner.”

Raising your eyebrows you took another long look at him, “I can’t wait.”

[radfem-polls]

Open ended question: what made you “peak”?

For me it was finally realising that women and made to cater to men but men never have to do the same. Example transwomen constantly forcing themselves into women’s spaces but men never have to do the same for trans men. Transwomen still having all the privilege of men while frequently putting down women and telling them they’re not doing enough as allies. So yet again women are constantly being forced to defend themselves and overexplain. Women spaces being shut down on social media like Facebook and reddit but men spaces and women hating spaces being allowed to thrive. Trans subreddits openly talking about how much they hate bio women and how they are prettier and better than any bio women while women in any subreddit including “lesbian” subreddits being made to walk on eggshells or censor themselves. Etc and the list goes on.

Hi thank you for your submission! Everyone it's time for our next...

Saturday open ended question!

Radfems and radleans, what made you "peak"?

Peaking often refers to switching one's perspective from being accepting of gender and/or gender ideology, to becoming gender critical. It can refer to becoming critical of genderism in a conservative context, an LGBTQ context, or both.

Alternatively, peaking can refer to any aspect of becoming a radical feminist (as opposed to mainstream feminist or opposed to mainstream conservativism), such as becoming critical of the sex industry, pornography, BDSM, reproductive restrictions, surrogacy, marriage, etc.

If you're referring to non-gender related peaking, specification would be great for people looking through the replies/reblogs, but you don't have to ofc 🫶🏾

Replying to OP under the cut (opinionated) 👇🏾

Huge agree, it's so clear that whilst trying to erase our sex, they still mistreat and silence us along sex lines. Despite obsfucating the definition of woman, they still know who is a woman when it comes to who to denigrate, debase, and intrude upon!

I personally feel that I peak again and again almost every day; each abuse a new reminder that they are male and of the oppressor class.

Essentially two big reasons I peaked can be summed up as 1) TIMs are sexist and 2) TIMs are racist.

Part 1:

One of the things that peaked me was, back when I was trans-identified, seeing how openly violent trans women were towards trans men. Some would even say the trans men and other tifs were not "truly trans" (and they are??), wish them rape or other violence, for perceived social missteps, or tell them they cannot talk about the oppression they experience for being female (AFAB), lest they perpetuate "transmisogyny."

It was like watching a miniature patriarchy surrounded by a veil of gaslighting and DARVO where it was insisted trans men or other "transmisogyny exempt" people were the real oppressors. It's truly no different to how men, particularly incels, DARVO women, insisting we are not oppressed and somehow inflict suffering onto men (usually by way of having boundaries). No different to "transbians" talking about breaking the cotton ceiling (🤢🤮) and positioning sex with lesbians a form of validation.

Part 2:

Another thing that peaked me is how trans women and other tims talk about black women. It's disgusting! They insist we have some imagined "proximity" to them by way of our "womanhood" being denied to us, but in this statement lies the misogynistic ideas they have around what womanhood even is.

They aliken their oppression to black women being considered "unfeminine," or being limited in what parts of femininity black women can access (which is a real problem in the US due to their history with the enslavement of African Americans, although not all black people are AA in the first place. Which ties into how a lot of LGBTQ politics is stinkingly USamericentric, whereas radical feminists prefer to look at the whole world).

This, however, misses the entire point of what womanhood is in the first place, and displays a grave misunderstanding in how gender seeks to oppress the masses. Harping on the second point first, trans women seem to not understand that femininity isn't a desire for women, by which our oppression takes place when we are denied that desire.

Femininity, rather, is a code of conduct that is forced onto women in order to control us, to control our sexuality, to control our reproduction, and to control our lives altogether. Femininity seeks to quash us under the thumb of men by embodying every aspect of a tortured and enslaved mindset. Everything from heels being considered professional while causing physical pain, short skirts limiting our ability to take long strides, bend down and even walk altogether, (and long skirts limiting our ability to run, climb trees, etc). To the very way we are expected to sit to take up less space. I could go on and on but there are many more analyses of femininity. The point is it is a tool to control us.

Black femininity was just as enslaving as white femininity in AA slavery USA. However it contained an additional aspect of dehumanization that white women weren't subjected to (of course, all women are dehumanized under the patriarchy. but due to our race, black women were/are additionally dehumanized). The modern march amongst black women to achieve hyperfemininity (essentially the expectations for white women ×10) is a seek to be dehumanized in a generalist way rather than racially-specific.

Yet for trans women, this oppressive code of conduct is what they desire in order to "be women." They think this code of conduct is womanhood, and anyone who seeks to fit into it is a woman, and anyone who detests it is not (see: multiple cases of trans women saying "if you hate womanhood so much, why not be a man?" or telling butches they are "closeted transmascs").

This all comes to the first earlier point that trans women misunderstand (or intentionally refuse to accept) the meaning of womanhood in the first place. It is not femininity. It is not an act. It is not a thought process. It is not a feeling. It is not immaterial.

Being a woman requires 3 things.

Be a member of a human species. Currently there is only one human species alive; homo sapien sapien.

Be an adult, which is usually considered the age by which one is mature enough to engage in the world independently. In much of the world this is 18 years old. It may be 16, 21, or even 25.

Be female. Notice how trans women do not fit into this. To be a female human, one must have at least 1 X chromosome along with either no Y chromosome, or the Y chromosome's SRY gene is missing, inactivated, or damaged beyond functionality. This karotypical makeup will result in the development of phenotypical traits that aim to partake in the production of the large gamete ova. This simple definition covers all females, perisex or intersex. Any human who does not meet this definition is a male, whether perisex or intersex male.

In short. Be an human adult female (adult female human, however you like to place the adjectives). It is on this basis of our SEX, female, that we are oppressed. The way black women are "distanced" from womanhood is on the basis of not being considered human. This is completely different to trans women and other tims as they are not women due to not being female. Claiming they are "denied" womanhood the way black women are is racist and appropriative of black women's struggles.

The other argument they have (which is even more racist) is their argument black women are "mistaken" for being male and attacked. It is true that *white* attackers sometimes target black women on assumption they are male. This is because white men are fucking racist and don't know what black women look like. Black men rarely struggle to tell if a black woman is a woman or not, unless that woman has an intersex and/or hormonal condition making her ambiguous.

In the latter, it is not blackness that is "analogous" to trans women's experiences, but possibly intersex. I'm not intersex so that is for intersex people to define to which degree they are in proximity to trans women, if at all. Altogether, mistaking black women for men is because of a lack of exposure to what black people and therefore black women look like. Using ethnic features as a marker of sex distinction is xenophobic and sexist against women. Whether that's a white man beating up a black woman because he thinks she's a man, or white TIMs on Xitter trying to prove a random black celeb looks like a man, it is at the core, racism.

I should iterate, obviously, beating up other people is repulsive, hate crimes are repulsive. Beating up trans women is repulsive. However by shifting the responsibility of these actions from the attackers, often white men or whoever else is most racially/ethnically privileged in a given region, onto black women, TIMs are being racist and misogynistic (misogynoirist in particular).

Of course, not every trans woman or other TIM is a virulent sexist and/or racist. But the core concept of womanhood being a commandeerable trait or thought process, rather than a material state of being that is oppressed in human society on the basis of sex, is sexist, immaterialist, psuedo-religious, and very easily leans itself to racist thinking.

That understanding of gender ideology as fitting into those above traits, my friends, is why I peaked. There's so, so much more I could say, but this is a poll blog and we'll be here all day 😅

If you read this far drop a flower emoji in the comments/reblogs/tags 🌷

Let me know if you want to see more under the cut soapboxing on Saturdays lol 😆

[bicheetopuff]

I mean, I am a multishipper so I both like Izu/Ocha and Bkdk (and some other ships, lol). Izu/Ocha has some cute moments and a nice bond, but in the overall narrative, its obvious Bkdk is on a whole another level. I think the majority of these ppl, especially dudebros in the fandom, are triggered by the reality and therefore lashing out against queer ppl for supposedly ''taking away their precious straight marriage endgame''. They wanted an ending like naruto, deku had to be your average shounen character with superpowers and a woman by his side, ochako had to birth his kids, etc. Nvm that naruto's that very plot choice made the series so ridiculous at the end.

Izuku and Ochako have great moments and I genuinely adore their friendship and I think they’re very important to each others respective arcs. That being said, I agree that bkdk are on a whole other level, whether you ship them romantically or not, and I feel like you have to actively ignore it in order to avoid acknowledging it since it’s so in your face from just the first few chapters. There’s only so many excuses you can make in order to say that they don’t love each other in some way.

There’s still people saying that they’re toxic and they hate each other and I just genuinely don’t understand why they don’t just drop the story. Doesn’t it get exhausting having to force yourself to turn a blind eye to the most important relationship in the story? Like what’re you getting out of it when their relationship sets up basically every major theme in the series in some way? Without one or the other, mha wouldn’t have happened and it would’ve been incredibly boring, bffr.

I really do think they ignore it and try to convince themselves to hate Katsuki because it conflicts with their heteronormative ending that they want so badly from a shonen manga… which is funny cuz isn’t they exactly what they accuse the shipping community of doing? Accusing people of hating Ochako/being a misogynist for the sake of our ships?

Like, what’s more misogynistic? Acknowledging Ochako as her own character and actually paying attention to her character arc and seeing that izuocha happening would’ve been kind of insulting to her AND Himiko considering everything she went through to realize that she wants to live and love as she pleases without external factors telling her what to do? Or, wanting Ochako to confess her feelings in the middle of a mental breakdown and for Izuku to say “omg I’m in love with you too!! :D” despite there being no romantic development between them but they get married and have kids anyway despite the fact that heroes with kids has been portrayed as a bad thing in the majority of the story…

If bnha had a Naruto ending I think I would’ve auctioned off all my mha merch and deleted my blog while trying to erase the story from my memory. I probably would’ve actually cried. Because, like you said, it’s a ridiculous ending, and it just would’ve completely negated Ochako’s entire arc, not to mention the fact that it’d make Shigaraki targeting and killing Katsuki literally mean nothing. Like, I’m sorry but if izuocha was meant to happen, Toga and and Ochako would’ve been pulled to UA instead of the other way around and Shigaraki would’ve targeted her instead. I SAID WHAT I SAID