#i have problems and i will acknowledge them

[gothgrampa]

Like yeah… young cis het men deserve love…but the problem is way too many of them are just pissed they can’t go around groping, beating, cheating, and r*ping there way though life while getting paid more than everyone else and saying whatever hateful shit they want— like every generation of men before them.

Men aren’t statistically more depressed than ever because everyone hates them, they’re depressed because they have been taught they should be treated as superior and have confused subservience with love. They’ve been taught they should be able to take whatever they want, and they think this is love. They’re taught love is transactional. Men are susceptible to alt-right bs because they don’t know how to value relationships based on mutual respect and unconditional love, even when it is given to them.

But being loved by someone means acknowledging when you are wrong, leaving space for your loved ones to express their authentic feelings, taking accountability for your actions, and continually working to be worthy of the love you receive. Yes, we all need and deserve unconditional love, but loving and being loved unconditionally is WORK.

The problem is afab and gender non-conforming folks are inundated for birth with the message “love is putting other’s before yourself” while amab folks and cis men are raised with “love is other people putting your needs first.”

Like if you think you are treated like “like the scum of the earth” for you “immutable traits” because you are a cis man PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE put on a dress from the thrift store, walk through Home Depot for 30 minutes, and see how people treat you.

Now imagine that dress on your body is all that’s keeping you from killing yourself. Imagine a world in which people only see you as a political piñata, a funny and thing to bash and brake and forget about.

Imagine you are so hated, that you are murdered, and the cops don’t fucking care. No one even knows your name.

LGBTQ people don’t have to imagine. This is reality. This has been reality, for generations of queer people and practically every minority for that matter. We fight to survive, we fight to live in peace. We fight to let our immutable traits shine, even when it gets us killed.

I have given so much love, patience, understanding, and compassion to so many men in my life, just for them to turn around and abuse me.

So Idk what the answer is, but I know it’s a lot more complicated than “be nicer to men they’re insecure :(“

And if that made you uncomfy, read it and read it again and then go read the pdf of Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinburg— it’s free, it’s the past, and unfortunately, it’s the future. https://www.lesliefeinberg.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Stone-Butch-Blues-by-Leslie-Feinberg.pdf

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: optimus likes to stare at you

cw: suggestive themes, hardcore pinning, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, obsessive thoughts, yandere?? optimus i guess, bro is down bad for you

word count: 995

an: had a blast wiritng this, i love making characters disgustingly obsessed with reader lmao

He was doing it again.

Optimus is a calculated being. He didn’t make rash decisions, never threw words to the wind. Every action he took had meaning; none were purposeless or born of impulse or whim. He was crafted to be the perfect leader, to guide thousands, millions. He was supposed to be an authority, the alpha and omega, someone to be respected, admired, and followed. But there was one creature who turned his philosophy upside down and broke his facade.

He blinked once, twice. His optics returned to reading the report on the datapad. However, not even ten seconds of focus passed—a return to being the Prime—and his attention was anchored somewhere else again.

He couldn’t tell anymore, was he doing it on purpose or automatically? A force stronger than him, stronger than Primus himself, was pulling his optics toward that one being capable of breaking him. In the presence of this rare power, he was truly defenseless, revealing to everyone close to him the truth of his feelings, the intensity of which surpassed his wildest expectations. They had grown beyond his control, fierce and unyielding, like a wild beast impossible to tame.

He knew it was inappropriate, and unfitting for you and his friends; he should have restrained the beast before it became a problem. But he hadn’t. He had failed, and another burden had taken residence on his shoulders.

You laughed, and his optics instantly shifted to you. His spark throbbed pleasantly, distracting him from tormenting his very being. He adored that sound, rejoicing every time he heard it. It was melodic, soothing, and calming. In an instant, it tamed his chaotic processor, now focused solely on you, the real you. Optimus observed every smile, frown, and wrinkle on your face with great curiosity, even though he had done it countless times. He watched your chest rise and fall, counting how many breaths you took in a minute. He searched for any abnormalities or signs of illness. Nothing escaped his attention.

He already knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the report. Not when you were so close to him, when he knew there was a microscopic chance you’d start a conversation with him. You’d honor him and look at him, too. He didn't dare to ask for more. He longed, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself that—at least not now. For the sake of keeping an image, he still held the datapad in his hand, but his thoughts were circling around you.

You were discussing something with Miko about a topic he didn’t understand, related to Earth’s video games. For some time now, he had planned to gather knowledge about them, so he could have conversations with you beyond his comfort zone, aligned with your interests. He wanted to be more approachable, and friendly, enticing you to spend more time with him. Amidst the stream of words, he caught a single one, which he assumed was a title, and made a mental note to study it later. Would you be happy to see him as someone worth talking to? Would you smile, let him hold you on his servo or shoulder? Help ease a processor constantly focused on unknowns and daydreams?

Content simply to be in your presence, yet fantasizing about something deeper, more intimate, he was still intently watching you. He had drifted so far from shore that he acknowledged Jack's and Rafael’s greetings a second too late. He nodded to the kids and briefly watched as they climbed onto the couch beside you. You had a way with children, caring for them, and helping with their school projects, but most importantly, you were their friend. Seeing you surrounded by children had an effect on Optimus—a feeling he was even frightened to contemplate because it easily took over him, pulling him away from reality, creating visions that would never come true, no matter how much he wanted them to.

"You are crossing the line," he reminded himself, fully aware that he had crossed it long ago. The cup had overflowed; there was no going back. Primus, he had just daydreamed about having offspring with a different species.

The truth was, despite all the self-flagellation, despite the hatred for what he had become, the ruin he had brought upon himself, he didn’t want to stop. You were a pleasant distraction from the war, death, and suffering that had accompanied him since becoming Prime, and for now, he didn’t plan to (couldn't) let go of that distraction. This didn’t mean his little obsession with you was painless—quite the contrary. However, those brief moments when your attention was focused on him, when you shared your touch as you traveled with him through Jasper when you looked only at him, made up for all the pain, torment, and hell he went through. Then there was no war, no Decepticons, no Optimus Prime. There was only him and you.

One last time, he tried to return to the report, but this time it wasn’t his illusions sabotaging his work. This time, it was you.

“Optimus,” your voice freed him from the prison of his thoughts. “I’d totally understand if you don’t have time to leave the base. But… would you perhaps like to drive me home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course, [Name],” he replied immediately because refusing you made no sense.

“Can’t you ask Bumblebee instead of dragging Optimus to fulfill your whims?” Ratchet intruded into the conversation.

“That will not be a problem for me,” Optimus assured, with an unusually stern tone aimed more at the medic than at you. “I am at your service, [Name].”

“Thank you!”

He transformed and waited patiently for you to join him. He opened the door, and once you climbed into the seat, he fastened the seatbelt himself. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the slow pace he had settled upon, that this time he had decided to be selfish, savoring the unrestrained pleasure of your privacy.

[wildmelon]

things that are bothering me the most:

antaam stuff makes no sense, full stop. it's also explained poorly/insufficiently.

most of what we see of rivain is completely uninhabited. i also don't care about more warden shit there, i was looking forward to more lore on rivaini people and culture, especially the seers obviously, we've been dying to know more about them for three games.

every elf we've met is ok with the huge revelations that their gods aren't what they seemed and this process happened offscreen. i would think there would be many different reactions to the spread of info about the evanuris, and i would think it would be extremely important to make it clear that info had spread pre-game.

the venatori are the same nonsensical vague useless boring cult with the most nothing goals. as incredibly lame as they are, it's even stretching my suspension of disbelief that they'd serve elven gods for vague promises of 'power' given tevinter's extreme history with the elves. i would think this would come up at least one single time.

the past two points are part of an overarching issue. the contentious and complex political landscape of thedas that makes the setting interesting feels flat. i'm supposed to believe NO ONE in super-elf-racist tevinter would blame the elves for their gods terrorizing thedas? even inquisition acknowledged this, w solas/inky showing concern that revealing the orb was elven would lead to elf racism.

i'm supposed to believe NO elves who've been oppressed by humans for centuries would think 'fuck them' and join up? what happened to the elves who joined solas at the end of trespasser when they heard he was trying to bring back their empire? at least inquisition had wacky cults for every side.

walking down the street in minrathous as an elf or qunari with no difference is simply absurd, i would literally rather never visit tevinter if they were going to implement it so toothlessly. where is the immediate opinion hit for being a mage/elf the inky takes in orlais???

yes the tone is off and a little shallow. yes the companions communicate too healthily for my tastes. yes i was dreading 'evanuris are behind everything' lore reveals and that's what we got. but i honestly think i could overlook those things if the above problems were solved and it felt like the same immersive, problematic thedas.

i'm so completely infuriated by the worldstate choices i'm going to make a separate post about it. but yeah i was concerned but made no noise, i was willing to wait it out and see how the three choices played out in game. and it's absolutely ridiculous that so far two out of fucking three have basically no impact, and the last one idgaf about unless inky romanced solas. i'm so so so so mad and disappointed about this, especially after staying open-minded when it was initially revealed.

everyone loves companion quests, so i don't know why the game feels like it needs to sell you on their significance. why did we get two different scenes of varric spelling it out to rook: do the companion side quests, or else they won't be able to focus! it's such a weird and superfluous tie-in. i don't get why they went so out of their way to clarify this when it didn't need to be clarified, companion side quests are expected in rpgs and their relevance to the plot is very easily accepted/overlooked.

[alchemistc]

"You should rent that U-Haul in advance, Buckley," Josh says, fully prepared to smack him upside the head if he doesn't chill out with those wide wet eyes. Freaking out over an acknowledgement that his smoking hot, sweet attentive boyfriend sees a long and happy future with him, really.

Maddie laughs.

"I - we're not -."

Whatever they're "not" Josh doesn't get to find out, because Maddie drops a hand over Buck's forearm, weaponizing her own smiley misty eyes. "Buck. You've thought through this. You've made a point not to put the eggs before the chicken. This is a good thing. Isn't it?"

Buck blinks. His eyes shoot to Josh. "Oh if you're looking for me to tell you not to lock that man down, I'll do it, but only if I can have his number."

"I don't think he even meant to say it. What if - what if that's not what he meant?"

Josh can't hold in the snort. "That large man willingly slept on a couch just so you had easy access to him even though I know you have no problem yelling in his general direction. He wore a suit to a funeral for a dead guy he indulged your superstition about. He kissed you with the-." Josh gestures in his general face direction. Howie had snapped a picture of the boils while Buck wasn't looking and Josh wouldn't have put his lips anywhere near ...that. "He meant it. Even if he said it accidentally."

Buck swallows. Slowly, a grin starts to form. It doesn't take long for him to go fully elated, cheeks so high Josh thinks it might be hurting him. He ducks his head. Then the bottom drops out. He glances up at both of them, scandalized. "I haven't even told him I love him yet."

Maddie's brow ticks up. Josh blows a breath through his nose.

"I gotta - I'll see you guys later, I gotta -."

He's out the door before either of them can say a word.

"Well that was -"

The door swings back open, and Josh doesn't have a moment to breathe before he's being swept up in a hug. It's tight, and heavy, and Maddie's pressed I to his side because Evan Buckley's long ass arms had dragged her in there too.

"Thanks-I-love-you-bye!"

Josh takes a moment to blink and recover. "I hope he does a better job with Tommy, honestly."

Maddie snorts

[cruelestpoetryever]

Men would literally let the entire world end before they admit that they aren't victims. They ALWAYS FUCKING WANT TO ALK ABOUT THIS because talking about the "problem with the left" let's them be acknowledged by communities of interesting people they want to be a part of but they can still center the entire conversation around themselves. Fucking blah blah blah patriarchy hurts men too so men should be the center of all conversations about gender and blah blah blah they USED to be conservative so anytime people are talking about political dynamics THEY should be the center of the conversations because being a former Nazi means they understand all of these problems more than the people actually hurt by them. I HATE MEN AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. THEY HATE US MORE AND THEY HAVE ALL THE POWER TO DO ACTUAL HARM TO US. Misandry is NOT FUCKING REAL but I wish it was. Women never have to escape the alt right because 99% of them have like basic fucking empathy

the amount of redditors like "as someone who escaped the alt right pipeline, here's the problem with the left" *writes out essay revealing a massive victim complex*...you did NOT escape the right i'm afraid 😭🙏 at the core of reactionary politics is aggrieved entitlement!

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 3

part 1 part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm… fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

“It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

[chillinglikeashilling]

I do think that it's important for Evan to understand that just because his friend don't express it in the way he does (or desperately tries not to) it doesn't mean that they don't love and miss him just as much as he misses them.

Evan said that he learned after love (his friends) came into his life, that the rest of life is still very much a thing you have to deal with and now he's seen someone dealing with it.

Jammer loves the Pilot Program and he loves his mom and sisters and all of the other teams he's part of, but the logistics of life get in the way of that. So he's thinking of ways to change his life to accommodate that love.

Now Jammer doesn't handle that perfectly because no one does really (god I want to see the convo in the next episode so bad) but he's acknowledged the problem and then moved towards fixing it.

I understand why Evan is the way he is but I do think that (for perfectly understandable reasons) he can be very unaware of the others feelings and motivations. In the same way he was doing a disservice to Sam, he's doing the same disservice to Jammer by deciding on his own that they are being 'kind' rather than 'loving'.

Jammer obviously isn't coming at the thing with the same intesity as Evan is but they both have the same silly day dream of just getting to be with their loved ones forever. That's a very understandable, very common want.

[lucedilunax]

Thank you, I love you - C. Keller

pairing: Clayton Keller x girlfriend!reader

summary: Three times when she helped Clayton and one time when Clayton helped her

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), swear words

words: 2.4k

note: ahh my first ever request work! i was so excited to write about clayton, enjoy it💕

masterlist

---

When Arizona’s franchise was suspended

In April, the big news hit that Coyotes won’t be in NHL. This was a shock for Clayton. He knew about the problems, but he was pushing away the thought that club, who drafted him and gave him a chance to play won’t be existing. His head was spiraling, he was uncertain about his future.

When Clayton got back home after coach told them about this, he hasn’t acknowledged his girlfriend sitting on a kitchen chair, waiting for him. Like always, she asked him questions about the training, but he haven’t heard anything. It was uncommon for him to ignore her. She started wondering if she has done something to piss him off.

She felt like the right call is to give Clayton space. When he went straight to the living room and turned on a movie, she went to their bedroom. As much as she wanted to confront him and ask him what’s going on, she preferred to stay out of it and wait for him to talk.

The evening came and she decided to leave the room and go to the kitchen to cook for both. She knew that Clayton can’t prepare any meals and probably haven't ate anything since he returned. She stepped into the kitchen, and he saw her. He immediately stood up and rushed to her.

“Hi love”. Clayton said and kissed her. “Sorry for earlier but I’ve got weird news and couldn’t place my mind in the right spot”. He hugged her and placed his head on her shoulder.

“Talk to me baby”. That’s all she said while running her hand down his back.

“Our franchise is suspended which means we’re not existing since next season”. He admitted to her. She felt the wet spot on her arm, but she didn't care about it. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna play hockey next season. Every club has good players on my position. I don’t want to retire in the age of 26, there’s still so many things I want to achieve”. She pushed herself from him to look at him. She grabbed Clayton’s face in her hand and kissed his lips.

“Baby, you’ll be playing next season. Stop doing this to yourself. You are great player, and you’ll find a new club. You won’t be in Arizona anymore, but you’ll stay in NHL. Trust me. This is all new and that’s why you feel this way but there’s gonna be club to take you under their wing”.

Clayton looked at her with love in his eyes. He knew she’s right. He’s good player and he’ll find a new club. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to another hug.

“Thank you. I needed this pep talk. I guess I just started overreacting after hearing the news”.

“That’s why I’m always here for you. Just try not to shut me off. I genuinely thought I did something to piss you off and that’s why you haven’t spoke to me since you got back home”. She laughed. He kissed her passionately.

“You, my love, could never do anything wrong”. He kissed her again. “Now, where are we going on dinner?” He asked.

“I planned to cook something. Why would you want to go out?” She asked confused.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess so we’re going out”. When they were going to the car, to lighten the mood, she joked.

“Besides, without Arizona there’s gonna be 31 clubs which is unpaired. They have to create a new team to make it even”. Clayton laughed when he heard that.

“You’re impossible”.

“Maybe, but you love me for that”. Before he opened her door, he grabbed her cheek and kissed her.

“You don’t even have a clue how much I love you”.

When they’ve moved to Utah (NSFW)

Whole summer, Clayton and his girlfriend spent on moving out from Arizona to Utah. It was stressful time for them because they needed to pack all their years of life into boxes. Both had fun finding out old things and getting all retrospections while looking at them. When the house was empty, they felt sad. All their relationship was moving on from the place where they fall in love.

Despite it, she and Clayton were excited for their new chapter. They started new adventure together in Utah. When they bought new house and stepped in, they sheer a tear. This was the place where they’re gonna be a family. She was the first one to look around. Clayton was going after her like a puppy. He saw how she’s gonna be taking care of her their kids in this place. He could already imagine that.

“So, what do you think?” He asked her.

“I love it. It’s beautiful. Can’t wait to start our new life here”. She said and placed her hands behind his neck. “What do you think?”

“It’s great. I’m so happy that you moved here with me”. He leans down and kissed her. “We need to celebrate this”. He kissed her again.

“Mhm, and what do you have in mind?” She asked knowing exactly what he has in mind.

“Let me show you”. Clayton grabbed her under her knees and took her in bridal style to the bedroom. He placed her on their new bed and started to kiss her.

“Wait”. She pulled out from him, and he looked confused. “We’re celebrating new life thanks to your transfer here so let me do the work”. He smiled at her words.

“And how are you gonna do it?”

“Let me ride you”. She blushed at her words. No matter how many times they had sex or even conversations about it, she was shy.

“Undressed love and I’ll do the same. Later, I’m all yours”. She obeyed his words. He undressed immediately. She took off her shirt and pants. but when she wanted to unclip her bra, he stopped her. He was standing naked in front on her when he reached for the bra clip to take if off. Later, he kneeled in front of her and took off her panties. He placed kisses on her lower stomach.

“Stop teasing babe, I really need your dick in me”. Clayton laughed at her words.

“Someone’s eager”. He kissed her lips and sat on the bed. “Then ride me like you wanted”.

She sat on his thighs and spit on her hand to run it over his dick.

“Now, you stop teasing me or I’ll get my way with you”. He said in serious tone. She grabbed his cock and placed her entry on his. Clayton grabbed her waist and helped her to fully sat on him.

“Fuck, you’re huge Clayton”. He smiled at her words. He hasn’t done anything. Just kept his hands on her waist and let her adjust to his length. When she was ready, she started jumping on him. He took off his hands from her waist and played with her tits. She was moaning his name. When she got little tired, he pulled her to his chest and grabbed her ass to helped her in the movements. She started to kiss his jawline until she moaned again from the new angle.

“Clayton… I’m close”. She said while making hickeys on his collarbone.

“Hold on, I’m almost there love”. He speeds up and soon after he could feel her coming all over his cock. He thrusted couple more times and cum in her pussy.

She fell on his chest tired. Clayton stayed in her and kissed her temple.

“I guess we just christened our new house”. She laughed at his words. He felt that she’s shivering from the cold. “C’mon, let’s take a bath and order some takeaway. The boxes can wait until tomorrow. I love you”. He picked her up and kissed her cheek.

When Clayton had been named a captain

Everything was going smoothly in Utah. Most of Clayton’s teammates were transferred there and he’d been hanging out with them. With his teammates, their partners also came here so she had friends here too. They started new life in new state, but they stayed in the same circle.

When Clayton started trainings with new team, there was still big unknown; who’s gonna be a captain in Utah Hockey Club. Everyone was wondering about it but all their focus was on preparation for upcoming season. Almost every preseason game, Utah played without captain. It changed a week before start of the season.

Day after game against Anaheim, the coach named a first-ever Utah captain. He decided that Clayton is the best option with his knowledge, help and understanding. He was over the moon, grateful for the trust and opportunity. In Arizona, he had been alternate captain but now, he was the leader of this ship.

When Clayton returned to their house, he saw her laying on the couch, watching a tv show. He dropped his luggage and laid on top of her.

“Get off me”. She said giggling at his affection. “What’s with you babe? Had a good trip?” She asked curious about what he’s gonna say to her.

 “Two wins and two lost games but that’s not important”. He gets off her and stand up next to his girlfriend.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me”.

“I’ve been named a captain”. Clayton announced proudly to her. When she heard that, she screamed from joy and throw herself into his arms. He caught her trying not to fall at the coffee table behind them.

“I’m so fucking proud of you babe. Oh my gosh, this is huge. I… I don’t know what to say”. She looked into his eyes. He saw the tears coming down her cheeks, so he dried them off with his thumb.

“Thanks love but…” He looked at her with serious expression. “What if I fail them?”

“Stop. You’re the right person on the right place. You’ve already been a captain in Arizona, and you did great”.

“Alternate captain”. Clayton corrected her.

“Still a captain. Look, I get it that you’re scared that you might fail them, but you have coaches and team behind your back. You’re not alone in this. You’ve proved yourself in the past 8 years. You’re great player but most importantly you’re intelligent and you know what you’re doing. You know those guys very well and they trust you. You’re not gonna fail. Not on my watch”. She kissed him.

“Thank you. I needed those words. I don’t know what I would done without you”.

“That’s why I’m here, to help you and support you”.

“Oh, I love you”. He kissed her and hugged her like his life depended on it.

“I love you too captain”.

When she found out that she’s pregnant

She had been feeling sick when Clayton left on a roadie, but she didn’t wanted to bother him. She was certain that it was just food poisoning. When Utah was playing against New York Rangers, she invited other girlfriends to her and Clayton’s house to watch the game. Soon after, game was forgotten, and they had a girl’s night.

She refused to drink wine with them, and questions started floating about pregnancy. She explained that she feels sick and that’s why she doesn’t want to drink but other girls tried to convince her to take the test. At first, she was skeptical, but she knew she has nothing to waste. The next day, she went to the pharmacy to buy pregnancy test.

Sitting in the bathroom and looking at it, she got scared. She knew it’s a bad timing for them to have a kid. They just moved to their new house. She was searching for a new job and Clayton just became a captain. She took a deep breath and took the test.

The next three minutes went super slow. Her mind was floating around. When she grabbed the test, she saw that it’s positive. She started to cry but didn’t know if it’s from happiness or sadness.

She and Clayton always dreamt about having kids, but they wanted to wait until they’re married. They haven’t even been engaged. Will Clayton be happy? What if he leaves her? She started to have all the dark scenarios in her head. She didn’t want to break the news to him on the phone. She hasn’t even said to him that she’s sick because she was confident that he’s gonna freak out.

When Clayton returned from roadie, he immediately knew that something is off with his girlfriend. She haven't came to welcome him, and the house was dead silent. His steps lead him to their bedroom. When he opened the door, he saw her sitting in the middle of their bed biting her nails, habit she had, when she was nervous.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay”. Clayton approached her, grabbing her hands and placing them down.

“No, it’s not okay”. By her voice, he knew she was crying.

“Tell me what’s wrong”. She took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant”. She whispered. Her head was looking down, she hasn’t had the bravery to look into his eyes.

“Love, that’s a great news”. He grabbed her under the chin, so she was looking at him. “We wanted to have kids. Why are you sad about it?”

“It’s the timing. I don’t have a job; you are a captain. We just moved here. It’s all happening too fast”.

“Maybe fact that you don’t have a job is a good thing. You can stay at home and rest while you are growing new life. You know that money is not a problem. I know that this might look like a bad timing, but we can do it. Together. I’m not leaving you alone in this. We can handle it”. He said and hugged her. He was over the moon by the news, but her reaction scared him. “But if you don’t want to have a kid now, I’ll be fine with that. It’s your body so you’ll decide. Although, I’m willing to be part of this adventure with you”.

“I want this kid but… I don’t know. I guess I freaked out”.

“We’re a team love. I’m here for you”. He kissed her.

“We’re gonna be parents. This sounds insane”.

“True, but I’m excited for the new journey, especially with you by my side”.

“I love you Clayton”. She kissed him deeply.

“I love you too future mommy”. He joked and kissed her back.

---

Thanks for reading❤️

[carnations8delight]

I mean the… the part about bashing skulls is also psychologically unhinged, but I get it.

In fact I’m there every-time I see people acting like they genuinely know a celebrity just because they followed them for years.

They feel like they know One Direction.

But One Direction doesn’t know them.

but the delulu won’t let them acknowledge that part.

The problem is 1D fans have always been like this, too many of them have.

And it feels like peeps are just now realizing it

I mean, we still have 40 year old Larries in the fandom, trying to recruit younger people for their cult.

This shouldn’t be an unpopular opinion, if Directioners would just come down really hard on these types of fans we would start to see less and less of them thinking this sick behaviors OK.

We gotta do better, no more tolerating this bull. let Liam’s death be the catalyst. 

Hey unpopular opinion but the 1D boys DO NOT owe you any sort of liam tribute. They don't owe you a song they record together. Not a tribute concert. Not individual songs on upcoming albums. they dont owe you the discussion of their grief on stage. Or if you meet them. Or in interviews. Louis literally discussed how absolutely insufferable it is to recount his grief in interviews time and time again. Its absolutely insane the fact you expect them to talk about major grief while they are AT WORK. Like imagine being at your job or some corporate event and some person you barely know asks you, while you are working, on the clock, how you are dealing with a family members death. the group of unhinged psychologically challenged women creating a "fan project" or printing liams face to take to zayns shows is psychotic and deranged and frankly i think zayn malik should be legally allowed to come down from stage and bash your skulls in. I sure know i want to. I pray zayns team sees the tweets and his security denies those weirdos entry.

[gaywatch]

I make it pretty clear through reblogs etc where I stand on censorship, dark fiction, kink, dark ships, etc, but I've been a bit of a coward and never made a direct statement myself because I had it framed in my mind as a stance against Purity Culture, and nobody has the energy to deal with Purity Culture bullshit should they decide my inbox looks like a nice target.

Well, that's not how I see it anymore. The framing is no longer against Purity Culture, it's for free speech, a healthy grasp on fiction being fictional, and acknowledging that everyone engages with fiction in different ways + for different reasons. Nobody's moral character should ever be judged solely on the fiction they consume.

My priority is not to engage with Purity Culture bullshit or the toxic vocal minority, it's to protect people from it.

Gaywatch is, and always will be, a place for queer sanity and support. A space to enjoy queer fandom, queer fiction, and the camaraderie it inspires between queer and ally fans alike when we unite under art we love.

I will not tolerate the silly idea that we should be at each others' throats over the "validity" of ships, or that differences in opinion when it comes to which characters should kiss-kiss-fall-in-love justifies spewing hyperbolic vitriol at real, breathing people. I don't have the time, energy, or hubris to vet every single fan's hyper-specific relationship with fiction and psychological origins for their taste in make believe.

My enemy just got elected. I know trans people. Members of the community I've built are trans and most everyone else are queer. My boomer neighbors fly a Blue Lives Matter flag every day of the year and the Gen Z nephew I helped raise owned a shotgun when he was seventeen. I have, quite literally, real problems to deal with and real people to worry about.

If I have any actual role in the online community I've gathered so far, it's to protect one of the goddamn few things they have in this world that brings them joy.

You're safe here. I'm not going anywhere.

[walnutbun]

I think the big reason it gets ignored in the post-election debate is because, for the purposes of debate, Trump votes don't really matter. The vast majority aren't going to change their minds about him until and unless one of his policies directly and irrefutably affects them in an extremely negative way. Anything less and they'll just say it isn't their problem, or it wasn't Trump it was Biden, or it isn't actually *that* bad you guys, c'mon.

For those of you who disagree with the "vast majority" figure, let's get one thing straight: they voted for him. They voted for a convicted felon. A rapist. One of Epstein's buddies. One of Diddy's buddies. A man who quite literally promised to cause pain and suffering to millions. The man who ended Roe. These people care more about his objectively empty promises about the economy than they do about literally anything else, including their own family. Even if they don't consider themselves MAGA, it is impossible to look back at 2016 and say "yeah, that's good, let's do that again" without feeling this way.

We can spend all day arguing about why these people voted the way they did, but it doesn't really help - they actively refuse to even acknowledge any of the problems he has, or any of the solutions Democrats have. Appealing to their sense of empathy doesn't work. Appealing to their sense of logic doesn't work.

It's more productive (although not by much) to talk about why left-wing people decided *not* to vote for Harris, because they at least will actually listen and engage with something resembling an open mind.

Ok fuck it, here’s another US election take, cause this result was really a long time coming and there’s frankly a lot that I anticipated about it.

It seems like more than anything else, public perception of the economy was a major driving force behind Kamala’s loss. There’s a cost of living crisis that, while nothing compared to the state of the imperial periphery, is nonetheless noticeable and tangible to voters here. The price of food and rent have both outpaced inflation, while wages are lagging decades behind.

The democrats failed in this regard in two key ways:

1. They spent several years acting like the economy was fine. They were touting stats about how there definitely wasn’t a recession, and while I can’t know their intent, my suspicion is that they assumed admitting there was a cost of living crisis would result in voters blaming them. However true their fear on that front might’ve been, their response seems to have backfired. By acting as if the economy had improved, they came across as deeply out of touch, uncaring, and dishonest to anyone actually affected by increase food and rent costs

2. They failed to even make token commitments to a sufficient minimum wage. In order to keep pace with inflation, the minimum wage should be somewhere around the $25 mark now. Say what you want about how much that might scare away right wing voters, but if this election made one thing clear it’s that they never would’ve voted for Kamala regardless. A promise of a minimum wage between $20-25 would have been a direct means of addressing the day to day concerns of voters, and they never even considered it

[icantspellhocky]

Idk if y’all also kinda feel like the world is ending rn, but here’s some (fictional) podcast reccomendations for when you feel like the world is ending:

Mercury: a broadcast of hope

Mercury a broadcast of hope takes place in the zombie apocolypse and the episodes are 5-10 minutes long. They update every day and the idea is that when the zombie apocolypse happened, some people were stuck in a radio station for a while and decided to start broadcasting so that people felt less alone and more hopeful in these dark times. Some days are just casual days talking about random stuff and some days are talking about deeper stuff but it’s nice to have a reminder that even in the worst of times we still have each other and there are still people fighting for hope. The episodes only last one day long (except for the first couple of seasons) to make it feel like a radio broadcast. I reccomend listening to today’s (Nov 6) episode because it’s very good and it’s about living through a time when you are feeling hopeless. This podcast acknowledges that the world can be shit and we can still try to live in it and that’s worth it. (Also in the podcast world they have been in the zombie apocalypse for I think six years now, so it shows that even when things go to shit you can still try to survive)

World gone wrong

This podcast was created this year and I’m 99% certain that it’s based on our real life fear of the future. In this universe the world is going to shit in a magical way. Shit gets weird pretty randomly. One episodes Sirens start appearing, another has the fair folk, there are were wolves now and time travel and every day they wake up and don’t know what weird world ending shit is going to happen. But they keep getting up and talkign about their experiences. The hosts of the podcasts are making a podcast about the weird shit going on in their world and it’s both interesting and comforting. Because yes things are going to shit but that doesn’t mean that we can’t live our lives and our idea of “okay” might be different now but we can find a meaning for that word anyways. They end their episodes by hoping that we’re baseline.

Midnight burger

This podcast was created during the pandemic. It is about a time travel demention spanning diner. Every day the diner goes to a different place (and there’s always someone there that needs them) and the people in the diner help people with their problems. This can be anything from feeding people a meal while they’re mourning to preventing the end of the world by helping the world make a plan on how to survive. It has this theme of “there’s someone looking out for you” and “even when things are going wrong sometimes you can make things just a little bit better and that matters” while also having an entertaining sci-fi plot. Episodes for this are much longer and come out once a month and it’s very comforting imo to listen to them close the episodes with “and if time and tide royal you too harshly, or diurnal courses leave you with no safe haven, just remember we’re out there, somewhere, looking for you. We open at six!” and that’s very comforting to me.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Thank you for answering the question!

So, the idea I have for the request with the Trio + Greta is this:

You know how when Edouard was killed and his body was used to be turned into a night creature, and even though he was a night creature, still saved Annette?

How would the Trio + Greta react to going through that scenario like what happened between Annette and Edouard? As in, them taking the place of Annette while their friend taking the place of Edouard.

A/N: Sorry for taking forever to answer this, it's been months. Oh my god, time flies! Can someone please make it stop?! But back to the topic at hand, I have to say I went into Nocturne all hyped for Maria (and while I still love her so much, she’s best girl!), I also fell in love with Edouard’s character. He’s so sweet and sensitive, and I appreciate how he encouraged the others to be open and vulnerable to acknowledge/process their grief. I recall a tumblr post that was like these Nocturne characters’ are facing the same problems as their predecessors, but at least this time, their emotional IQs have gone way up! So *fingers crossed*, here’s hoping the main cast won’t get as traumatized this time around. (Oh, who am I kidding? It’s Castlevania. Of course, they’re all gonna end up traumatized.) 

Oh, and I wrote this in the third person as opposed to a first-person Reader-Insert, I hope that’s okay!

TW: Brief Mentions of Violence; Death; Heavy Angst (Reader Beware!)

The Trio + Greta React to Their GN! Friend Getting Turned Into a Night Creature: 

Trevor: 

In the heat of battle, he barely has time to register, much less process, his friend’s death. 

By the time the fight is over and he’s realized what’s happened, it feels like the wind has been knocked out of his chest, and he’s already begun to blame himself, regardless of whether or not it was his fault. 

He’s a Belmont, he should've known better. Simply by associating with them, he was practically digging his friends’ grave. He shouldn’t have let them come along, he should've scared them away. Fuck! Why didn’t he push them away like he did everyone else? Out of all of the people to stay and get put in danger, why did it have to be the one person he cared so much about?

So in his guilt and grief, Trevor does what he does best: drink. He drinks to excess the first night without his friend at his side. And as well as the second. And then the third. 

If he’s with Sypha and Alucard (and/or Greta in Village Belmont at the time of his friend’s death, this is the point where they'd step in and cut off his booze.) If Trevor’s alone, however, you can bet he spends a good week or so drunk as a skunk, and completely out of his mind. 

When the alcohol doesn’t numb the pain anymore, he tries to jump ahead to acceptance, telling himself that it was unavoidable, that his curse will always rob him of his happiness, of his friends and family in the end. Of course, like some sick twisted turn of fate, just as he accepts it was out of his hands, a familiar face re-enters his life. 

When Trevor first encounters his friend as a night creature, he doesn’t recognize that it’s them straight away. He’s a monster hunter and he attacks on autopilot— monsters’ appearances be damned. And when he does finally recognize that this night creature has been forged from the body of his deceased friend, he assumes, like all the other forged creatures he’s fought before, that it’s merely his friend’s corpse being used as a vessel for a damned soul. 

Then Trevor loses his footing as well as his weapon. But when his former friend turned night creature has a chance to deal Trevor a scathing blow, they hesitate, and instead choose to stare Trevor down rather than attack him. It’s at this moment, that Trevor realizes with a lurch of his stomach, that this isn’t a night creature in the body of his friend, but that this night creature is his friend. 

He thinks he’s going to be sick, but before that happens a separate night creature aims to attack. Trevor quickly crawls to retrieve his whip only to turn around to see that he doesn’t need it: his night creature friend turns on its fellow beasts and rips them apart limb by limb. 

The two of them sit in the deafening silence that follows, each one eyeing the other up, waiting for someone to finally break the spell of concentration and make their move. 

Trevor’s friend moves first, speaking in a rough, deep voice: “Tre..v..or,” it manages to get out. 

As much as it pains him, as much as he knows his next move will haunt him for the rest of his natural life, Trevor blinks away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and charges ever so quickly towards the creature. His former friend turned monster has no time to react to what’s happening by the time Trevor’s knife is piercing through their chest. 

“I’m sorry…” Trevor rasps out, guilt beginning to consume him once again. “‘S all my fault.” 

Trevor is the last Belmont alive. Belmonts were trained to find and kill monsters. At least, that’s what Trevor keeps telling himself as he looks down at the corpse of his friend for the second time. 

Belmonts hunt monsters, and they protect people. 

And yet, standing there, Trevor feels that’s never been more of a lie. 

Sypha: 

Sypha tries like hell to save her friend, she really does. She creates defensive ice shields, rings of fire, hell even an ice cube around her friend all in an attempt to keep them safe from harm during battle. 

But no matter what she tries, no matter how incredible she is at multitasking: it’s not enough. Something happens, something else gets her attention, someone else’s immediate safety takes precedence. Just for one moment, she turns her back on her friend, assuming they’d be alright for that long.

When Sypha returns to find her friend dying or dead, she lets out the most guttural scream, as icicles and fireballs rain down from the sky above her effectively squashing any remaining enemies. In her grief, her power surges through her, unstoppable like a nuclear reaction. She doesn’t just strike her enemies dead, she obliterates what remains of their corpses until they are nothing but ash and smoke.

Sypha, being from a large nomadic family, takes it upon herself to track down her friends' surviving relatives (if they have any) and bring their remains back to them. Being the kind of curious person Sypha is, she’s likely to know a fair amount about her friends' culture and religion. If there are specific burial rites she knows her friend would have liked observed, she wants them adhered to and she refuses to leave her friend's corpse until they’ve been officially put to rest. 

But on her journey back (either to her friend’s family or the cemetery outside of Village Belmont), she’s attacked on the road by rogue vampires. Luckily, she and her companions make it out unscathed. Unfortunately, however, it seems those monsters have taken her friends' corpses with them. 

Sypha mourns for a second time, not only the loss of her friend’s life but the loss of any closure she might have been hoping to create. Despite them no longer living, she feels as if she’s somehow managed to let them down a second time. 

The next time she’s defending a crowd of folks against hordes of night creatures, Sypha is extra cautious, her friend’s death still fresh on her mind. And as the cruel mistress fate would have it, the image of her friend becomes real in front of her. Only this time, they’ve changed. They’ve mutated into something beastly with scales, claws, and horns, leaving only their face— eyes, nose, and mouth— and voice unchanged. 

Initially, Sypha refuses to listen to this fraudulent night creature’s words, deeming their entire resemblance nothing more than a devilish trick. But when their former friend-turned-night-creature suddenly turns on its fellow beasts, tearing them apart before they can attack Sypha or her friends, Sypha is forced to confront the possibility that this creature still has her friend's soul trapped inside.

Sypha keeps up her defensive magic and ushers everyone else away. She makes it so it’s just her and her former friend left standing out on the battlefield. 

Keeping a flame in one hand, Sypha raises the other in greeting, her large eyes widening as the creature mirrors her movements. 

Sypha’s torn. On one hand, if her friend’s soul is still in there, they could be trapped and suffering, waiting for the release of either death or salvation to set them free, much like how her soul was trapped when she lost to the Cyclops. On the other hand, if her friend is still in there somewhere, maybe it’s only their form that’s changed, and their personality has not. Is it possible for a night creature to exist and not be violent?

It’s one hell of a risk to take, however. And Sypha knows she can’t risk the fate of Village Belmont, of all those orphan children, hell, of her children, because of a guilty conscience.

“Leave,” she says, advancing towards her former friend. “Do not return!” She sends a blast of fire in their general direction, herding them away. 

“Go!” She screams, sending even greater flames. 

The night creature frowns, backing up, confused. They cock their head to the side as if to ask why Sypha’s doing this. The confusion lasts only a moment before a hardened expression comes over them. They slowly nod before dragging their monstrous body far beyond the tree line, far away from Village Belmont. 

Through her teary blurred vision, Sypha watches her former friend-turned-monster leave, a look of sorrow on both their faces. 

Sypha makes a mental note to research ways of freeing her friend from their curse, should she come across them again. In the meantime, she hopes for their safety and asks that God (as much as he hates her) take mercy on her companion. 

Sypha feels their current existence is punishment enough. 

Alucard: 

Alucard is not there when his friend is killed, a fact that haunts him long after their demise. He was not present for his Mother’s death either, and due to the manner of her murder, he was left without a body to mourn. Alucard knows fate is a cruel mistress, but to repeat such a grief with his dear friend, it’s almost too much to bear. 

Still, Alucard’s not one to actively wallow, so he sulks for a short period before returning to his many duties as protector and curator of his father’s castle and the Belmont hold. He plays with the children, he and Greta teach the willing adults how to fight, and he even takes to cleaning up his old nursery to welcome Trevor’s and Sypha's incoming child. 

On all outside fronts, Alucard appears the same as he was, but on the inside, his chest aches, and his stomach weighs heavily in his gut. Internally, he’s full of ‘what-ifs’:

Perhaps, if he taught his friend more defensive techniques before the battle. Or if he had only encouraged them to run rather than fight, they might still be here within these cold castle walls. Sure, he and the others may have ended up teasing his friend for being cowardly, and Alucard’s certain that would embarrass them, but my god— what’d Alucard give for his friend to be alive and embarrassed rather than dead. 

After some time, Alucard finds his mind less and less occupied by his sorrow over his friend’s demise, and instead, begins to fill the space with fond memories. He recalls their first meeting, their first fight together, and their first night wandering the ruins of the Belmont hold. 

Their ill-fated reunion starts with an alert from one of the watchtowers, then a second yell from a guard, before Alucard finds himself running, magical blade drawn, into a horde of beastly night creatures. 

Aluccard’s on them before they can set upon the other guards. He makes quick work of two with his longsword and wounds a third with his claws. None of the night creatures' attacks are surprising, with every move they make, either Alucard or another fighter such as Greta can slice them down where they stand. 

All appears to be well in hand when a rough voice calls for help just beyond the tree line. Wasting no time, Alucard proceeds alone, instructing the others to hang back in the instance it’s a trap. 

To Alucard’s credit, it is a trap. Just not the one he was expecting. 

A night creature, more on the smaller side, emerges from the shadows on all fours. On its side a large wound gushes red, the mark appearing to be from another creature as opposed to a human blade. 

But that is not what catches Alucard’s attention. Rather, it is the voice of the night creature that sounds so similar. 

With rising horror, frozen in place Alucard watches as the twisted, tortured body of his former friend pulls itself closer and closer. The creature pleads with Alucard by name, begging for their friend to make the pain stop. 

It is not the first time Alucard has seen such magic. When the rebis reanimated in his childhood bedroom, he could see the souls of his parents struggling to house themselves within the rebis’ one body. It was such a horrifying sight, Alucard had to close his eyes and look away, but here, with his former friend’s clawed hand gripping his shin, no such possibility exists. 

Alucard knows what he must do, he knows it’s only fair to end his friend’s life, to prevent them from suffering any further torment. Then why can’t he do it? 

Alucard raises his blade using magic, preparing to slice his friend’s head off cleanly, when the creature lets out a final gurgle before falling still. 

The blade continues to hover in the air as Alucard falls to his knees weeping. Somehow every time he believes to be past this pain, even more befalls him. 

Alucard allows himself to grieve, hoping this time is the last. 

Greta: 

Greta’s no stranger to loss. She’s lost several men and villagers to the night creature attacks long before Alucard came into the picture. Being the Village Head, she’s found she’s left with little time to grieve, but perhaps, that is for the better. 

Once Village Belmont is established, and Alucard is reunited with his friends, Greta allows herself to mourn the loss of her villagers, showing their remains respect by burying them in the Village Belmont cemetery. Of course, not every one of her lost friends has a body to bury. 

In one of the night creature’s original attacks, they had taken the corpses of their victims as well as some folks still alive, presumably to eat or devour later. 

One of Greta’s dear friends was among them, and while she wishes more than anything she could have held their hand and comforted them as they bled out, as she did a handful of others, there’s no going back to change the past— what’s done is done. 

Greta takes a vote, and the villagers agree to put up a Gravemarker anyway, just as a way of honoring their memory.

It happens just as she exits the castle to give the good news of the arrival of Sypha and Trevor’s new baby. The many houses around Castlevania are lit up with merriment when a handful of stray monsters decide to attack. 

Greta takes the lead on the defense, holding her own until she finds herself accidentally backed into a corner one night by a creature that almost looks like an overgrown dog. She’s surprised she let herself be so foolish but she’s even more surprised by the beast’s refusal to strike. 

Confused, Greta analyzes the creature further, gasping in shock when she recognizes the pair of eyes that stare back at her. It couldn’t be. Could it? And if it is, what does this mean?

Greta thinks back to when she first met Alucard. Granted, she and her people knew he was not human, but his reputation as a savior preceded him. Perhaps, she considers, it is possible then, for a night creature to also go against its primal nature and choose the same.

She manages to push the creature back, calling for other armed members to surround it until Alucard can come and get a better look. Greta asks the dhampir what he thinks, if it’s possible this is her friend transformed, or if she’s letting sentiment get the better of her. 

Alucard admits that he’s read of certain necromancers and forge masters possessing the ability to maintain pre-existing souls when forging newly twisted monsters, however, this particular experience would be a first. It could very well be Greta’s friend, their soul in this body, but it could also just be their corpse. 

They decide to consult Trevor.

The three of them discuss back and forth as to what to do with this miniature night creature so long Sypha herself comes out, demanding to know why the hell she just left her newborn with a midwife to come get Trevor’s disappearing ass who said he’d be right back before walking out after the birth of their firstborn son?!

Everyone ends up at a loss.

Unphased by all the arguing, the night creature has since started to playfully catch sticks and stones, which some braver children have thrown at them. 

Sypha agrees to leash the night creature within a magic circle until they can figure out what to do with it. At this point, the night creature curls up into a ball of scales and fur and promptly falls asleep. 

“Well,” Greta says, “I suppose we didn’t need that Gravemarker after all.” 

A/N: Sorry for the sort of cop-out ending with Greta’s, I just couldn't bring myself to end hers on a sad note as well, so instead, she gets a night creature guard dog bff to accompany her around Village Belmont! Also, if I had to pick a Castlevania character to be surprisingly chill about their friend becoming a reanimated creature, it’d be her. (Well, Hector first and then Greta but you see my point.)  

As always, if you enjoyed this, please Like & REBLOG!

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[aleneabean]

how to get yourself out of a rut

because let's face it, we all get into those downswings that just feel blegh (and we can get out of them <3).

start with things you know you enjoy. think of every little hobby you might've fallen in love with before - reading, painting, dancing, running, an instrument, singing, you name it. doing the small things to help boost your mood and make you feel more alive will give you more energy.

make a to-do list. yes you've probably heard this a million times before, but to-do lists can help your workload seem smaller if you itemize it.

do things!! it sounds a lot like an "easier said than done" idea, but once you start, it's very difficult to stop, especially if many of the things you have to do relate to each other (i.e., laundry and cleaning the bathroom - both count as cleaning).

don't always do it on your own. if you know you have a chore or assignment that someone else has to do, work on it together! i struggle so much with laundry (yes it's a problem and embarrassing but if i don't acknowledge it, it won't change!), and washing my clothes at the same time as the people I live with has made the chore seem less boring because i get to do it with friends.

take good care of yourself. eat good food, get fresh air and exercise (hot girl walks count for both), and hydrate. water, tea, soup, whatever gets your water intake in. also make sure to cleanse and hydrate your skin too, so you glow from both inside and out.

everything in moderation and in the cool way, i promise. trade some of the more draining habits for ones that rejuvenate you! going out, bed marinating (not rotting), doomscrolling, and many other taxing habits all put stress on you. yes everyone says that detoxing is good, and yes it is hard, but it is so worth it in the long run.

dress to impress!! taking care of yourself includes wearing clothes that make you feel confident in and happy with yourself. you also get an excuse to look super cute all the time, which is a massive bonus that both boosts your mood constantly and serves as outfitspo for others. that's a win-win.

----------♡----------

and most importantly, go at your own pace. recovery from anything, even just a lack of productivity or a sense of being overwhelmed, is not a linear process, and whatever you are capable of is enough each day <3

[bonyassfish]

I don’t disagree, but I think this analysis is missing something else: it has been a consistent strategy of fascists to take real problems faced by an electorate (in our case, economic issues, housing crisis, higher food prices, etc) and blamed one singular group for this, instead of trying to figure out the root cause.

Trump and his people took these economic issues and said “it’s migrants!!” His campaign dehumanized migrants and cast the blame for every possible issue onto migrants. No, the grocery stores aren’t purposely gouging prices to make more money, it’s migrants! Landlords aren’t hoarding housing to squeeze profit out of vulnerable and housing insecure people, it’s migrants! They’re eating dogs! (Not true, but truth doesn’t matter!) They’re criminals! (Trump is a literal convicted felon but they don’t care).

This is the same playbook fascists have been using for a long time. It works because when things look scary, a lot of people would rather be comforted by the idea that a simple fix, a strongman, the removal of one scapegoated group, will solve everyone’s problems, rather than acknowledge how rotten to the core our system is

How much of this is the fault of the Harris campaign, or the fault of Biden for taking so long to drop out, or terminally online leftists telling people not to vote, or the Democratic Party as a whole being so controlled by corporations and the wealthy that they’ve conceded the working class vote to republicans, or to any number of factors floating around? Only time will tell how much blame we need to assign and where.

There are some people who saw trump’s racism, misogyny, transphobia, and overall disdain for humankind and said, yeah I’ll vote for him, I like those things. Harris was probably never going to win those people over. But there were also people who were disgusted with him, but who either never learned to exercise critical thinking or were so seduced by the comforting lie of trumpism that they voted for him anyway. And what we need to figure out now is how the hell we reach those people and explain to them that they did not vote for someone who will make their rent and groceries cheaper, as they were promised, and blaming migrants for their issues is short sighted and wrong and inhumane.

“if they lose democrats should’ve done [x pet thing i personally think] and then they wouldbe won” “democrats shouldn’t have done [x pet thing i personally think] and then they would’ve won” idk man it sure just looks like there are a hell of a lot of people who are fascist and are motivated to vote for a fascist to implement fascist policies regardless of what the left is doing

[applesauce42069]

Genuinely talk about cultural christianity, while I 100% acknowledge that I'm one there are still different forms of it like for example I was raised as a catholic in Latin America so lots of our traditions are very different from other cristians because they were mixed with the native population traditions and I do like those traditions because they are part of our cultural identity. I acknowledge the colonial source of them and I now all the christian denominations are build in antisemitism but those traditions are rooted so deep into me I don't think I will ever not be a cultural catholic.

Hello. My girlfriend was raised Catholic in Brazil, and her family is Catholic. I've learned how much Catholicism has influenced Brazilian culture and learned a lot about the traditions and I think it's so cool!

There is absolutely nothing wrong with being culturally Christian. It is completely neutral. and Christianity has definitely had a massive impact on a wide variety of beautiful and interesting cultures.

Christianity is built on supersessionism and that sucks! At the same time, that doesn't mean that every Christian is bad or that Christianity needs to be destroyed. What would be nice if:

more people recognized that Cultural Christianity is a thing

many people deny this, especially in North America, because Christianity and its traditions are SO "neutral" to people. then, when we try to describe our experiences in the society we live in, to describe our oppression, they shut us down because in their mind: if they don't go to church, they have nothing to do with christianity. but the reality is that religion is so deeply ingrained in our cultures.

2. more christians recognized that supersessionism is a problem and learned to recognize Jews as worth of respect, not for any reason but that we're human and we deserve to be respected and considered in our own right

it would also be nice if more christians recognized that some of their texts are literally just appropriated. but i feel like that creates a deeper theological problem, idk.

my point is: cultural christianity isn't bad. it just is. but people have to decide how they are going to approach this dimension of privilege that most don't even recognize yet.