#its like pretending you care about women and womens rights when actually you only care about yourself

[undergiants]

Other lesbians who don't date bisexual or pansexual women because they "center men in their lives" piss me the fuck off.

Tell me you have subscribed to 70s political lesbianism without telling me.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

[p0orbaby]

Extinguish the Flames with Some Champagne and Pills

summary: your may or may not be in denial about your feelings for alexia

warnings: mention of smut, alcohol and drugs and nothing major

a/n: a whole lot of words based on this request. set after this but you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 3k

part 1

-

You’ve been ignoring Alexia’s messages for weeks now, every one of them its own little bomb you’re too terrified to defuse. Every time her name pops up on your screen, your stomach flips, your breath catches, and you somehow experience the full spectrum of human emotion in a split second. But mostly there’s terror and something closer to shame than you’d like to admit.

It’s a game of avoidance that doesn’t come easily to you; after all, you’re usually the one with a glib reply or some devil-may-care response, the kind of person who thrives on chaos. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s something closer to shame nestled beneath the familiar terror, a sensation like a splinter lodged deep under the skin—small enough to ignore at first but persistent enough to drive you mad.

Your friends—of course, always your friends—keep bringing her up, as if they can somehow sense the crisis you’re trying to keep contained. It’s usually after a few cocktails too many, when your circle is gathered around a dimly lit table in some trendy restaurant or at a rooftop bar where the music is loud enough to drown out the awkward pauses but not loud enough to stifle their teasing. “She’s the best footballer in the world,” they slur with a kind of drunken reverence, like they’re invoking some untouchable deity rather than a woman who once had her strap buried inside you in a strangers bathroom. “You know she won the Ballon d’Or twice, right?” As if you haven’t been low-key stalking her career, watching those achievements pile up like monuments you’ll never come close to matching. “She’s beautiful and talented,” they declare, their words slurring into a familiar refrain, as though her accolades have somehow slipped your mind, as though you might have failed to notice her brilliance or her impossible grace.

But the clincher, the one they love to throw at you, is always: “And she’s Spanish”

There’s a certain relish with which they say it, that singsong tone like they’re divulging some magic spell or a punchline they know gets a laugh every time. It’s as if her nationality carries some kind of exotic allure, like there’s something intrinsically romantic or mysterious about being Spanish that you’re pre-programmed to fall for. Ridiculous, really, but your friends don’t care about nuance. They only remember the endless stories you told about summers in the Balearics—the drunken nights under hot stars, the hazy afternoons spent nursing hangovers and catching fragments of conversations in Spanish that you pretended to understand. “You love Spanish women,” they insist, as if your type is as predictable as your go-to drink order. Conveniently, they overlook the fact that your type mostly translates to ‘emotionally unavailable,’ as if that’s some universal trait of Iberian women.

It’s not that they’re entirely wrong, of course, but they’re oversimplifying. Your attraction to Alexia isn’t some exoticism or romantic fantasy you’ve spun out of nothing. It’s her unapologetic drive, her resilience, that hooked you—though God forbid you’d admit that to anyone. “She’s an athlete,” you shrug whenever the subject comes up, swirling the last melting ice cube in your Old Fashioned like it’s a magic eight ball that might give you a different answer this time. “They’re all players.” The line slips out with just the right amount of indifference, a practiced dismissal, as though you’ve been brutalised by every athlete from Cristiano Ronaldo to Wayne Gretzky. It’s a complete fabrication, of course. You’ve never actually dated a footballer, let alone the best in the world. But who can resist a good story, especially when it’s your own and you get to embellish the details?

It’s easier, you think, to act disinterested than to admit you’ve been replaying that night in the bathroom, the feel of her breath against your neck, every time you catch your reflection in some shiny surface. You thought you were done with all that—had filed her away in the mental drawer labelled ‘Temporary Distractions,’ right alongside the male model who could never quite remember your birthday and the painter who had the audacity to try to psychoanalyse you on the third date. One-night stands are supposed to be transient, fleeting, the kind of thing you can bring up in therapy one day with a detached air. “I think this is worth mentioning,” you’d say, as if it happened to someone else, “but it’s not really important.” Another plot point in the story of your life, never quite making it past the cutting room floor.

But Alexia doesn’t stay filed away. She starts turning up everywhere, not quite a haunting, but a presence you can’t shake no matter how you try. At first, it’s incidental—just a casual Instagram scroll, a stray click on some football gossip account that you don’t even remember following. There she is, grinning in some post-match group shot, looking too happy for someone who’s supposed to be just another fleeting chapter in your book. It’s the kind of unguarded joy that can’t be faked, not even for the camera, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always this free, or if it’s something that only comes out when she’s on the pitch, away from people like you.

You hardly even realise it, but suddenly you’re following three different Barcelona fan accounts. Then, as if by some magnetic force you’re unwilling to acknowledge, things escalate. She likes one of your posts—a shot from the Venice Film Festival where you’re all decked out in head-to-toe Prada, looking expensively bored, like you couldn’t care less about anything in the world. She comments on one of your stories: just an emoji. A single fire emoji, to be precise. Harmless, you suppose. But the comments start getting specific—little in-jokes that only someone who’d had their mouth on your skin could know. There’s a familiarity in her tone that feels invasive, like she’s reminding you of things you’ve deliberately chosen to forget.

You don’t reply. Cowardice? Yes. Masochism? Possibly. The most crucial thing is that replying would imply there’s something worth talking about, and something always becomes complicated. You’ve already got enough complicated in your life: a demanding agent who keeps sending you scripts for roles that are ‘outside your comfort zone,’ a wardrobe full of designer clothes you’re required to wear for sponsorship deals you didn’t even negotiate, and an on-again, off-again affair with mindful meditation that never seems to stick. You’re in the middle of wrapping up a film that everyone assures you will ‘change the trajectory of your career,’ though they’ve said the same about the last three projects, and you still get recognised more for that face cream advert you did when you were twenty-one than for anything of substance.

The film’s an indie about a morally ambiguous antiheroine, a character so damaged and charmingly dysfunctional you’d think you were being typecast if the role didn’t feel like an emotional excavation. She’s got a drinking problem; you’ve always favoured substances that can be discreetly indulged in penthouse bathrooms, though you’re certainly not going to point that out to the director who keeps going on about ‘authenticity’ and ‘method acting.’ He seems to think you’ve got some untapped well of emotion just waiting to be accessed, as if there’s this depth beneath your flawless skin that’s going to pour out on cue. If only. Most of the time, you’re trying not to let your co-star notice the faint tremor in your hands that’s mostly a byproduct of too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Then one day, while you’re lounging in your trailer, pretending to enjoy a green juice that tastes like the inside of a lawnmower—another post from Alexia. She’s on the pitch, holding some trophy aloft, her face flushed with victory. Her hair is slicked back, still damp with sweat, strands clinging to her skin in a way that seems impossibly intimate despite the vastness of the stadium behind her. That smile… Christ. It’s like she’s been sculpted out of bronze, an ancient statue come to life, as if she’s somehow timeless and ephemeral all at once. There’s something almost mythic about her, an enduring quality that makes your breath hitch in a way that feels both familiar and unnervingly new, like an old friend who’s overstayed their welcome but you’re not quite ready to let go.

It’s moments like these when you notice how precariously you’re balancing on the line between fascination and obsession. You catch yourself humming the anthem of Barcelona’s football club, the tune woven so deeply into your subconscious that it startles you. You aren’t even sure where you picked it up, but it plays on a loop whenever your mind wanders, like a soundtrack you didn’t choose. Then there are the little things—reading the match reports in the sports section like you actually know what half the terms mean, or memorising obscure facts about the team’s history as if they’re somehow relevant to your life. You’ve started following the scores like they’re stock prices, pretending it’s just casual interest, though a part of you wonders why you keep needing to know how well she played, how many minutes she was on the pitch, whether she looked happy in the post-game interviews.

It’s a form of self-deception that’s becoming harder to maintain. You’re drawn to her orbit, pulled in by a force that feels magnetic and entirely outside your control, as though your fascination is bleeding into the rest of your life, filling the gaps you didn’t even know existed.

You decide, in a moment of what can only be described as poor judgment, to attend one of her matches. It feels impulsive and reckless in the way most of your decisions do, a haphazard pairing of curiosity and a kind of dangerous longing. You book a front-row seat like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’re just ticking another item off some glamorous bucket list rather than treading into unfamiliar territory. Naturally, you show up dressed to the nines—your favourite Gucci sunglasses perched on your nose, an Alexander McQueen coat draped over your shoulders with that deliberate, careless grace that suggests you’re either oblivious to or entirely aware of its price tag. Your hair is styled in that kind of artful chaos that takes hours to perfect but is meant to look like you rolled out of bed effortlessly chic. You’re not here for the football. You’re here for her.

The atmosphere in the stadium is overwhelming, almost suffocating, a heady cocktail of chants, horns, and the sharp, greasy scent of fried food that turns your stomach. It’s a kind of chaos you’re unaccustomed to, this all-consuming fervor where the world narrows down to the pitch, to the twenty-two players moving with a purpose you can’t fully grasp. You understand about three percent of what’s happening on the field—just enough to know when the ball’s in play but not enough to follow the strategies unfolding before you. You’re mostly people-watching: the sea of jerseys, the faces contorted with passion, the rhythmic clapping that you can’t quite catch the beat of.

When Alexia scores, it catches you off guard. The stadium erupts, thousands of people leaping to their feet with a collective roar that vibrates through your bones. You react half a beat late, your applause more polite than enthusiastic, like you’re at a black-tie gala instead of a football match. You stand, clap along with the crowd, and try not to feel like an imposter. As the cheers die down, you catch her eyes from across the distance, just for a flicker of a moment. There’s something in her gaze—an awareness, a spark—that slices through the noise and zeroes in on you. It’s like she sees you, actually sees you, in the middle of this thrumming, chaotic mass of bodies, and for a split second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the entire stadium.

After the game, you somehow find yourself swept into the exclusive VIP area, a place filled with the kind of people who can glide between worlds as easily as they switch languages. A flute of champagne appears in your hand almost before you’re aware you’ve been handed one, and you sip it absentmindedly as you let the buzz of conversation wash over you. You’re halfway through your second glass when she appears, slipping through the crowd with a kind of effortless poise, her hair still damp from the shower, the strands curling at the ends. She’s wearing a loose tracksuit, looking every bit the casual athlete, as though she hasn’t just been commanding the attention of thousands.

There’s an insufferable confidence in the way she moves towards you, that familiar swagger that borders on arrogance, as if she’s amused by the fact that you actually showed up, that you dared to step into her world. “I didn’t think you were a football fan,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes betray something else—a darker, more searching intensity that you recognise all too well from that night in the bathroom, the one you keep trying and failing to forget.

“I can appreciate a good performance,” you reply, lifting your glass in a mock toast, your voice slipping into that arch tone you’ve perfected over years of industry parties and press tours. “I’ve seen Cats live on Broadway, you know.” It’s a flippant comment, the kind that’s designed to deflect, to distract, to keep the conversation light and meaningless.

She laughs, a rich sound that feels like an indulgence. It’s not so much at your joke but at the way you’re playing this little game, like she’s letting you have your moment, humouring you. “And did you enjoy the show?” she asks, her voice dropping just enough to suggest that her question has nothing to do with the theatre and everything to do with the performance she just gave on the pitch.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you say, holding her gaze longer than you probably should. There’s a challenge in the way you look at her, an unspoken dare, and for a moment, you wonder if she’ll take the bait. Her lips curl into a small, devilish smile, a private expression that feels like a confession meant just for you.

The moment stretches, teeters precariously on the edge of something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. It feels monumental, like a line about to be crossed, but then she steps back, just a fraction, and the spell breaks. She turns away with a dismissive grace, leaving you standing there as if you’ve just been defeated in a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Good,” she says simply, and with that one word, she slips back into the crowd, leaving you with nothing but the faint taste of champagne on your lips and the lingering sense that you’ve been left wanting.

After that, you start to notice the divide. There’s Before Alexia and After Alexia, and it’s not a clean break but a jagged line that cuts through your life, shifting everything off balance. You used to think of yourself as someone in control, or at least someone who could fake it convincingly enough to fool everyone else. There was always an understanding that if you messed up, someone would be there to fix it—your agent, a publicist, some overworked assistant who could call in a favor to make the headlines disappear. But now, your phone has become an instrument of anxiety, vibrating with texts and notifications that you crave and dread in equal measure. It buzzes with messages from her that you read but don’t answer, with updates from your agent about the press tour you keep dodging, with reminders of responsibilities you keep pushing aside.

Even after filming there has finished, you start booking last-minute flights to Barcelona under the guise of ‘business,’ convincing yourself that it’s all perfectly legitimate. Your agent rolls his eyes and hounds you to schedule interviews and appearances, but you find yourself at the airport anyway, boarding another red-eye that will land you in some unfamiliar city just in time to catch her match. You’re finding yourself in strange places at ungodly hours, indulging in the kind of fan behavior you’d have found pathetic if you saw anyone else doing it. Ninety minutes of football passes in a trance, where the world narrows down to her figure gliding across the pitch, the fluid grace of her movements cutting through the static in your head like a hot knife through butter.

Afterwards, you’ll send her a coy, inconsequential text—“Not bad,” or “You could work on your footwork.” And she’ll reply with that maddening charm that dances the line between sincerity and sarcasm, always leaving you guessing. “Come and coach me, then,” she’ll say, as if she’s issuing a challenge, or perhaps an invitation.

There’s this one time, after too many drinks and not enough sleep, when you actually consider it. You catch yourself scrolling through Spanish real estate listings, as if browsing apartments for sale in Barcelona is a casual hobby rather than a subconscious form of planning. You tell yourself it’s just idle curiosity, a way to pass the time, yet you’re finding out the details—locations near the stadium, neighbourhoods with the best views, penthouses with terraces that would catch the Mediterranean breeze. You click on the photos of sun-drenched balconies and tiled kitchens, pretending you’re only fantasising about a different kind of life, one where you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder for the next tabloid scandal or PR crisis.

But then you sober up. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror of a five-star hotel suite in Madrid, taking in the disheveled hair, the dark circles under your eyes, and you remember who you are. You’re not the kind of person who throws away their life for someone else, certainly not for a woman you haven’t even kissed since that one stolen night, a night that’s become less real and more like a story you tell yourself to explain this unshakable obsession. Besides, you’d probably make a terrible coach.

[llatimeria]

I feel so resolved right now bc I've been getting a little frustrated with the Instagram reels I've been seeing that's mostly het women complaining about how their husbands don't share the mental load of housework - which is absolutely justified, ofc. everyone needs to partake in taking care of the home as close to equally as is reasonable.

the thing is this mostly takes the form of people making fun of how their husbands say things like "Yeah sure I'll share the load :) Just make me a list!:) just tell me what to do! :)" when that's kind of defeating the purpose -- if your partner's making lists of chores for you, you're still basically offloading a ton of mental effort onto them, which doesn't actually help the problem.

however I know from experience that I am that husband lol. and I'm sure a lot of these men are just kind of inconsiderate, but from my perspective as a disabled neurodivergent person, I reflexively try to offload things like Making Lists or Asking To Be Told What To Do onto my (overstressed, often panicking) partner because I'm scared that if I make decisions about what I need to do, I'll focus on something my partner didn't even have on their radar and waste all my energy "fixing" something which they didn't consider broken, leaving me with nothing to help solve the problems they actually care about.

I'm not trying to be a dick or deliberately being lazy, I just need to know what's bothering them the most so I can start there instead of starting on a random side quest that doesn't matter to either of us. considering how many of these people I've run into are in nd4nd relationships, I'm pretty sure I can't be the only "inconsiderate husband" out there who's having this feeling, and it's a little frustrating to see it being completely attributed to a moral failing and not, like, a possible symptom of their partner's own mental health issues. (like we definitely can't pretend like misogyny never plays a part in the Just Make Me A List type of behavior, but I know relatively certainly that is not where it's originating from in my own personal relationship, and I'm not that unique)

just when I was about to just make a kind of grumpy post about this problem and offer absolutely no solutions, I fuckin run into a reel where someone actually tells people how to bridge the gap between offloading mental effort and actually knowing what your partner wants you to do- literally just. offer a couple of observations to them instead of hoping they'll do everything for you. ie - instead of "just tell me what to do!!", say "I see the dishes have to be done and the trash has to be taken out, so I was gonna do the dishes then take out the trash, unless there was something else that needs my focus first". this tells your partner that you are taking on some of the mental burden, but still offers them the opportunity to point you in the right direction if you're WAY off.

it just makes so much fucking sense and I never would've thought of doing that on my own. genuinely an extremely useful video to just algorithmically be provided to me. it's actionable advice instead of just telling people "share the loaaaddd" without providing the scaffolding someone needs to do that when theyre unused to it (whether that be due to neurodivergency or growing up as a guy in a misogynistic society).

and its just like. God damn it. this is bullshit. I can't believe the stupid camera app is helping me in real ways. maybe the mental health gurus and internet therapists have a goddamn point sometimes. fucking hell

[dropoutconfessions]

Everyone’s allowed to feel how they feel about K. You do not HAVE to like K. K is an imagination people and does not matter compared to reality people.

The actual problems that I think all this discourse is stemming from is a problem in not just fandom here but in fandom as a whole. It’s a problem of trends: Why is our attention so frequently held by the masculine and white? Why, when we expand the world and look into the interiority of side characters, is our focus so targeted on white men? Why are women so overlooked, why are people of color so often ignored?

This is a wider issue. A trickling down of real world racism affecting our little play spaces. And the problem is that an issue which appears in larger trends, an issue that is a general pattern of behavior, is not easy to fix. We can’t fix this by harassing individual people. We can’t fix this by ignoring it. We definitely can’t fix it by pretending like its a problem here and only here rather than everywhere.

I wouldn’t be so bitter about K and dislike of K if I wasn’t overly sensitive to the idea of POC and femme characters getting the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about SamEvan, which is a frankly adorable and lovely ship, if I could trust people in general to act right about black women. I wouldn’t be so mad when people call Jammer and his friends rude while ignoring anything Evan did if I hadn’t seen it as the start of a malicious pattern.

If I hadn’t been in fandoms where every single woman got called a Hideous Bitch and every single person of color was Secretly Evil then I wouldn’t even be posting this. If I hadn’t seen people latch onto men with three lines and refuse to even consider thinking about women with entire arcs, I wouldn’t care about the lack of K posts. It would just be opinion. But it’s not just opinion when it happens over and over again to the same kinds of characters every time.

I don’t think it’s that bad in the mismag fandom. I don’t WANT it to get that bad here. But I don’t know how else to stop it, so I type up little confessions, and I hope someone reads them and thinks about this shit a little bit before they post.

I think people should calm down and stop insulting each other. I think people should take a break, if they need one, from fandom. I think people should leave each other alone and quit passive aggressively throwing ‘shade’ at opinions they don’t like because there is NOTHING wrong with individual opinion. There IS something wrong with the pattern its a part of but you can’t blame a person for a pattern you see in them or else you’ll end up snapping at a monster that isn’t even there yet.

Most of what I want is for people to think about how they think. Nobody has to stop liking Evan (ofc) but it is and should be concerning that even in this relatively progressive space, I keep seeing the same patterns creep their subtle and insidious way into the things I love.

I think we can all do better than this. I think we can do much better. I think we deserve better, all of us, than all of this.

-

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mik–

Valentine's Day | Michelangelo

i agree, anon. bayverse again since i might as well complete the set!

warnings: shitty and uninspired title. swearing which i probably should've added to my other pieces too but oh well. everyone is always 18+!! hints of suggestiveness but its very minor. also fem!reader with mention of lady, gal etc. never proofread!!

summary: mikey loves valentine's day; side-note, leo is a communist

word count: 830

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mikey loved Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up early to decorate the Lair with the most garish shades of pink he could find, and he’d covered Raph in flower petals while he slept, having to cover his mouth with his hand to hold back his sniggers. It happened every year, and every year he found it funnier. His brother’s didn’t. Raph would rage, Donnie would roll his eyes (although he would chuckle a little when no one could hear), and Leo would sigh.

He knew they saw the day as the epitome of a life they could never have. Raph especially found it hard so why not have him concentrate his insecurity and anger at the injustice of the world on Mikey for the harmless pranks he pulled? If it helped him forget the pain inside him for a short while, then Mikey would gladly face his ire. Donnie would just lock himself within his lab (how unexpected), and Leo would pretend nothing was wrong. Leo did that a lot.

The smallest turtle privately thought that their oh-so-Fearless Leader was more emotionally constipated than Raph. Especially on Valentine’s Day. Leo would never admit the real reason for his dislike of the day and Mikey could already hear this year’s excuse:

“Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic endeavour reliant on pressure and novelty, designed to scam consumers and perpetuate the relentless commodification of the self and emotions blah blah blah blah blah…”

Leo always got all preachy after reading. He’d go on rants (“calm and factual explanations that you might actually benefit from listening to Michelangelo”) about two dudes called Marks and Angles (who the fuck called themselves Angles?) and the others would tune him out. Maybe Leo was right, but Mikey didn’t really care. Especially not this year. Unlike his loser brothers, he actually had a date. Mikey resisted the urge to giggle at the thought. Of course, he was the most facially blessed so it would make sense as to why he’d have a beautiful lady accompanying him this evening. Plus, Donnie was a raging nerd, Leo was a fucking weeb, and Raph was, well, he was Raph.

He hadn’t told them yet. You wanted to keep things quiet, at least for now, and the terrapin eagerly agreed to your terms. Silence wasn’t exactly his forte, but he knew how to keep secrets even if his family didn’t believe that. He’d planned the date in secret; he couldn’t be too elaborate, he was still a mutant turtle after all, but he’d done everything he could think of to make it special. He frowned in thought at a fuchsia heart that he'd stuck on the wall. You’d like it. You always liked the things Mikey did; you always laughed at his jokes even when everyone else groaned.

“I’ll love anything you plan, Angelo.” He believed when you said that. You were patient and kind in a way his brothers rarely were with him. That didn’t stop the fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach. He’d never been one to be nervous, he’d quite literally jumped out of an aeroplane on a skateboard, but you made his palms sweat, his heart jump, and his words stutter. He was normally so smooth with women (or, well, woman since he’d only known April before you but that was irrelevant), yet you made him a flustering mess. He’d never let you catch on to that, though; he preferred if you thought he was just feeling extra goofy in your presence.

“Angelooooooo–”

Speak of the devil. Or angel, he supposed. “ANGELCAKES!” Mikey grinned, hearing Raph curse at the booming shout, then curse again as he no doubt realised what his brother had done for the seventh year running. Last year, Raphael had stayed up all night to avoid the flowers, so Mikey had waited in the shower (also all night) to pop a confetti canon full of petals in his face. He’d probably resigned himself to his fate the night before, but that wouldn’t stop his irritation.

You raised your brow. “Roses again?”

Mikey winked at you. “Carnations. I was on a budget this year, spent all my roses money on this gorgeous gal, you wouldn’t know her.” He grinned wider at your snickers, then somehow even wider as you pressed a kiss to his cheek before anyone could interrupt.

“You’re so…”

“Handsome? Charming? Dashing?”

“Of course, babe.”

God, Mikey loved you.

“YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS NUMBNUTS!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Run, Forrest, run. Just try not to let him bruise your face.”

“Aw, I was hoping you’d kiss it better.”

You smirked and Mikey felt his face flush as you gave him a sultry look, your eyes tracing the length of his body and pausing pointedly. “How about this, I’ll kiss anywhere it hurts on our date tonight.”

If Mikey let Raph catch him quicker than usual and put up less of a fight than normal, well, that was no one else's business, was it?

[haesunflower]

xdinary heroes reaction to receiving flowers

genre: fluff

pairing: reader (mostly gn) x all members

about/tags: xdh reacts to you buying or giving them flowers

established relationship, bullet point reactions, lowercase is intentional, this is my first work for xdinary heroes, afab for gunil's, i had to google what each flower represented, sorry for inaccuracies, dedicated to requester @snowflakemoon3

⠀⠀ gunil ⠀⠀

gunil is a whiner

so one day when he complains that "don't you think it's kinda misandrist that only women get flowers most of the time"

you think that's a direct jab at you because he does in fact, get you flowers all the time

on your next date you order sunflowers for him

it arrives via delivery and when he opens the door, he kinda smirks

"finally, i'm being appreciated around here" (jokingly)

he places the flowers in the vase you usually use

later on you find out he saved the petals of the sunflower in a ziploc bag

you teach him how to press and dry flowers for preservation

when he sees your collection of dried flowers from all those times he gifted you, he's so touched

looks at you like you're his whole world as you continue to demonstrate how to do it

⠀⠀ jungsu ⠀⠀

jungsu talks about getting plants for his room all the time but never actually does

so you bought him a pretty orchid to place on his windowsill

he loves it and takes care of it really well

he once read that plants have feelings

so he spoke to the orchid every night, pretending like the both of you were its parents

one day you caught him singing to it

"since when did you start giving private concerts to the plant, jungsu?"

"shut up. water your child, it's dying"

and you're just like??? but you do it anyways

taking care of orchids together become your shared hobby

years down the line, jungsu makes sure the flowers at your wedding are orchids

⠀⠀ gaon ⠀⠀

you were on a picnic date at a meadow

gaon made all this effort to set the date up, even making (which you start to suspect that he actually just bought) all the food you were currently eating

you felt kinda bad, as you didn't prepare anything (well to be fair this date was a surprise)

so while he was setting up the picnic basket earlier, you took the liberty to venture

you found a small wildflower bed full of marigolds and daises

you gathered the brightest and prettiest ones, the ones that best resemble gaon

so when you tell him "close your eyes I have a surprise for you"

and he opens them he's genuinely surprised that it's flowers

his heart goes like awwwww

but ngl he thought you were gonna plant a kiss on his lips

"I can do that as well, jiseok"

he got the kisses and the flowers, it's a happy day for him

⠀⠀ o.de ⠀⠀

"are those flowers?"

he stares at the meal your prepared him, edible flowers prettily arranged on top

you spent the whole day cooking for your date and bought edible flowers to decorate the salads

he's in awe because he's never tried it before

neither have you, so you're hoping it tastes okay

when you both sit down and take your first bites

seungmin says "babe is it me or it just tastes like plants"

"i sure hope so, because it is indeed, a plant"

"right".

you both just sorta stare at each other then laugh

he reaches for your hand across the table to bring it to his lips

"thank you for the meal babe, i love it"

he kisses your hand with such sincerity you want to cry

⠀⠀ junhan ⠀⠀

there was an old lady selling the last of her roses for the day by your university

they weren't anything particularly special, but they were individually wrapped so prettily you couldn't resist

she told you they'd wilt soon, so she's giving them at half the price to students

you decided to buy a red rose to give to junhan

as you stopped by his dorms, you found him strumming on his guitar

you jokingly threw the flower at him and said "bravo, encore encore!"

he picks up the flower and puts it in between his lips and bows, going along with the bit

you both laugh at each others' antics

junhan is goofier since you came along

⠀⠀ jooyeon ⠀⠀

jooyeon has received flowers from someone he personally knew in his life exactly 3 times

when he graduated high school, his debut showcase, and his first concert (all came from his parents btw)

so when you visit him in the inkigayo green room with a bouquet of brightly colored carnations he doesn't even think that those are for him

"huh, who gave those to you?"

"it's for you, jooyeon...."

and he's all confused like "what, why?"

and you're also confused as to why he's confused like? "congrats on your comeback and new mini-album?"

jooyeon takes the bouquet and smiles at the message you wrote

"to my favorite rockstar, jooyeon"

every time he made a comeback or released a new single, you would send him different flowers

in return, he places a kiss on your forehead

A/N: when i got this request i knew i just had to use the gaon flower pictures!!

btw to those that don't know, i take requests for other groups including nct, svt, xdh and of course zb1

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

✎ mobile masterlist

✉︎ request

[spacelazarwolf]

hmmmmmmm i’m real fucking tired of jew haters lying abt me!

let's break this down, shall we?

white trans mascs like spacelazarwolf have no issue calling indigenous people "bone chillingly disturbing" for disagreeing with them.

actually i called what you said antisemitic, because it was. i called what i've witnessed from gentiles in general bone-chillingly disturbing and cruel, and that i've witnessed so much ignorance, hostility, and bloodlust from gentiles. because i keep seeing posts celebrating the massacre that happened on the 7th, and i keep getting anons that tell me "hitler missed one", "the world would be better off without your ilk", "we should have gotten rid of you all ages ago", "die zionists rats *nose emoji*", and a lot of very graphic descriptions of how they would like to rape and kill me. one user, blatantly on their blog, openly said that someone should kill me, and someone said they knew where i lived and could make that happen. that's not disagreeing with me. that is bloodlust.

they pretend to care about racism when trans women engage in it, but have zero issue jumping right to demonic stereotypes about indigenous people who dare to point out that their support of israel is supporting genocide.

hey asshole. I WASN'T TALKING ABOUT YOU.

also. I HAVE BEEN OPEN ABOUT MY CRITICISM OF ISRAEL, MY REFUSAL TO SUPPORT IT AS A STATE, AND MY BELIEF THAT WHAT THEY'RE DOING IS GENOCIDE. YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

literally just blatantly lying about a jew's opinion on israel so you can harass and demonize them is, i hate to tell you, antisemitic.

these so called "anti-semitic rants" were me saying jewish people can survive without israel and do not need to colonize or genocide another group of people to survive.

let's give some of the highlights of your posts:

"while you're here hand-wringing about the safety of israelis and spreading the white supremacist lie that they must be in israel to be safe, israel secured its continued existence by just now murdering 500+ parients and doctors under the excuse of 'well hamas is violent and is hiding in there"

'handwringing' do you mean mourning the deaths of peace activists and children? also if you've read literally any of my other posts on the matter, you know i literally talk about how zionists institutions and leadership use jewish safety and antisemitism in the diaspora to bolster support for a jewish state. pointing this out isn't agreeing with it when you do it, why is it when i do it? what could the difference possibly be??

also, there has been no confirmation on who caused the hospital bombing. there are many reports that it was a misfire by one of the groups in gaza, and those are still being investigated. regardless of who fired it, it's still a tragedy. it's still hundreds of innocent lives lost. and it does not change the fact that the lives lost on the 7th were also a tragedy. using this devastating loss of palestinian life as a bludgeon against a diaspora jew for having the audacity to mourn dead jews is disgusting.

"[you] only bring up jewish people of color to argue that israel is actually not a racist project because israel is the only thing stopping jewish people from being exterminated."

literally just lying.

"jewish people in israel are behaving as and acting as white supremacist colonizers of color"

thanks for literally just outright saying that you think the problem is jews, not the state of israel.

"colonizers globally are constantly killing kids"

and therefore the israeli children who died don't matter? are you expecting jewish people to choose between their nieces and nephews and innocent palestinian children who are killed in gaza?

"[spacelazarwolf has] ranted and raved that without israel existing, the jewish people would be genocided. he's appropriated the struggle of indigenous and black people abroad to cry that jewish people aren't welcome in countries like the us, despite living in the us and benefiting from his whiteness and the oppression of indigenous and black people as many other white jewish people do"

i think you've made it pretty clear you're totally fine lying about what i've actually said regarding israel, but the idea that jews are "appropriating the struggle of indigenous and black people abroad" when we talk about experiencing antisemitism in the countries we live in is so???????????? also you make it really clear in this snippet that your issue isn't with israel but with jews in general.

"white jewish people...have been able to exist in relative safety for decades in european countries"

are you actually fucking insane.

"israel's existence has made things more dangerous for jewish people in the middle east and north africa because these are areas that HISTORICALLY had co-existence between religious groups"

nice historical revisionism! swana was safer than christian countries for sure, but it's SO clear to me that you know absolutely nothing about the history of the jews of swana.

"he and israel supporters like him are constantly distracting from the war crimes and terrorism ISRAEL IS COMMITTING by handwringing perpetually about 'but violence is bad and hamas is bad for being violent, the only good palestinians are the ones that are quiet and don't fight back against us when we kill their kids"

sorry, who's "we"? are diaspora jews killing kids? or do you just equate every single jew in the diaspora to israel? also, yet more blatantly lying and claiming i support israel when i repeatedly have stated i haven't! but it's much more convenient to claim i have, because then you can say that i kill kids!

there's a bunch of other times you repeat the lie that i support israel and "advocate for the continued existence of a settler colonizer state and lying and claiming it's the only way for jewish people to be safe" but i won't include all of those bc this post would be VERY long.

"israel supporters are really out here arguing that palestinians need to hold hands with their genociders and forgive them and find peace - completely ignoring that for centuries there was peace between religious groups in the region and israel destroyed it"

goyim being embarrassingly ignorant of jewish history outside of a warped view of the holocaust? i am shocked!

"the supposed civilians attacked turned out to be iof soldiers so yeah actually it's fucked for you to say. they shouldn't attack people who colonize and massacre palestinian people for their day job"

blatantly supporting the massacre of 1,300 israelis, including children.

"all they can do is fight back or die, while israelis grab their passport and fly back to the us or some other european country and wait for israel to finish their genocide so they can go back"

feel like i don't need to explain why. this is conspiracy theory levels of antisemitic.

"the crying and bellyaching that if the jewish people don't have israel, they'll have to go back to countries that are hostile to them is not one i have sympathy for"

yeah we know you don't have sympathy for jews, that's very clear.

"jewish people, black people, and indigenous people all still live there and survive and fight back and thrive in solidarity together. and they DON'T participate in genocide against other groups of people"

yet again making the blatant assertion that it is JEWS who are committing genocide, and not the israeli government. also let's not pretend that. there's always been perfect solidarity between our communities. jews have not always been the best allies to indigenous people and black people, and vice versa.

"there are other places to turn to if you had any interest in NOT participating in western hegemonic white supremacy. but instead of staying and fighting and existing and thriving with other marginalized people who are at HIGHER risk than you in these countries, you argue that somehow jewish people should be exempt from this work that every other marginalized community does"

shouldn't have to point out that i don't argue that, but also this is, again, conspiracy theory levels of fucked up.

"bonkers to watch israel-supporters screaming and crying that if they don't colonize and genocide palestinians then jewish people can't safely exist"

yikes.

"if it were remotely true, israelis wouldn't have pulled out their dual citizenship passports and gone back to europe and the us to wait at a distance for their government to finish the genocide they started in 1948"

again, yikes.

there is a choice outside colonization - you can just fucking leave and go back to your home countries that are welcoming you with open arms cuz you still have dual citizenship. you don't have to commit genocide colonize people to exist."

more yikes.

"spacelazarwolf really wants to try and argue that they can't stop colonizing palestine cuz if they do, they have to go back to - checks notes - countries where a ton of people still live"

who is "they"?

"for some reason [spacelazarwolf] thinks that to avoid going through [genocide], jewish people need to be allowed to commit genocide themselves and eradicate palestinians"

once again lying abt me, and also openly saying that they believe it is jews who are committing genocide.

"fucking bonkers that he thinks he somehow has the right to commit genocide and colonize to avoid the situation other jewish people, indigenous people, and black people worldwide find themselves in. cowardly bitch baby behavior actually. like i'm sorry lots of other groups of colonized people, who have been subject to genocide and violence, and racism and are still undergoing it, has managed to NOT colonize other groups of people for their own gain."

bc jews are just inherently more evil than other marginalized ppl, right? we're just more prone to being selfish and hurting people? we're just sniveling whiny bitch babies who will turn around and stab you in the back, right?

"screaming and crying that 'we need to be allowed to genocide palestinians or otherwise we have to go back to the us, where we as white jewish people never have to actually deal with the things indigenous and black people there do' is disgusting genocidal behavior. the thought of actually being in solidarity with colonized people is repulsive to people like spacelazarwolf - that's why they all seek to justify colonial projects instead."

again, conspiracy theory levels of fucked.

at no point do i engage in anti-semitism. all i ever criticize is israel.

don't feel like i need to point out that this is not true.

he has repeatedly stated that israel has to exist, otherwise jewish people have to go back to the us, where indigenous people are being genocided.

cool lie! also fucked up thing to say!

i've said nothing about jewish pain and trauma. in fact, i have said on numerous occasions that jewish pain and trauma are very real and that they DO NOT justify. colonization.

mmmmmmmmmm nah. "whiny little bitch babies" is not saying that "jewish pain and trauma are very real." also oops you accidentally did dual loyalty again.

but spacelazarwolf is so rabidly racist he immediately began fearmongering about the bloodlust savage knocking at his door trying to kill him.

i'm on desktop or i would include that mike wazowski standing meme bc genuinely what the fuck.

anyway, i have no doubt that their support palestinians is genuine. that's great. but it is also incredibly clear that they hate jews, and that is going to be a huge detriment to their activism for palestinians, and they're not the only one this is happening with. people need to figure that shit out on their own instead of harassing and lying about jews online and perpetuating this kind of violently antisemitic rhetoric. bc this is like beyond fucked. i am tired of gentiles blatantly lying abt me so they can get away with saying horrendously antisemitic things to and about me. get your fucking shit together.

[grilde1chesse]

idk abt u guys but i feel like the argument that transandrophobia isn't real is borderline so stupid. the words existence isn't to imply that androphobia/misandry is an actual issue at all or somehow deserve more attention than womens experiences, or thatmen are somehow not privileged. its refering to trans men's experiences with being shamed for "choosing" to be men. its saying the demonetization of our identities is harmful, that trans men are not misogynists for being men, that trans men should not have to apologize for their identity.

i will admit, transandrophobia is definitely misleading, and implies its a similar form of gendered oppression to cis men, (in the same way transmisogyny and misogyny are similar oppression wise), which it's not. being a trans man doesnt exclude or save you from misogyny, nobody is saying trans men and transmascs cannot weaponize misogyny. please stop believing radfems who claim men can only exist in opposition to women.

think about it this way: cis men are not oppressed, they are incredibly privileged, these are well known facts, yet transwomen are demonized for "being men" or "pretending" to be a woman. trans women are oppressed and shamed for being "predatory" and fitting other male stereotypes. in this situation, she is being oppressed because society views her as a man, and therefore easily targetable as a threat. this is a mindset put forward by transphobic politicians, radfems & terfs in order to oppress and harm trans women.

you see where im going here? a similar tactic is used on trans men, where again men are momentarily viewed as evil and violent. this is projected onto trans men in order to justify hatred towards them. cis men are not oppressed, trans men are however. this tactic is used to discourage transmascs & men from starting t, putting forward stereotypes and rumors that t will somehow turn you into a perverted violent asshole, or queer communities isolating transmascs when they embrace their masculinity.

its taking societies hatred towards patriarchy and projecting it onto vulnerable minorities. this form of oppression is less similar to any prejudice put forward towards cis men in order to stay safe, and rather violent stereotypes made about trans women.

i could get side tracked and talk about how womenhood is used in a similarly weaponized manner, one that (because women are oppressed and misogyny is an issue) also affects cis women. like how trans women are discouraged from starting e in fear of "becoming weak" and other misogynistic stereotypes, and how trans men are told they'll never be "real men" because they'll always be a "weak little girl". i could also compare that to my previous examples with men being deemed violent and dangerous in order to harm trans people, and mention how those stereotypes do not harm cis men, because for so long being violent has been deemed desirable and masculine, and that cis men do not experience oppression.

transandrophobia isn't saying trans men aren't in any way more privileged than trans women. we are. it isn't saying cis men are oppressed. they aren't. its simply stating that our gender is treated like something dangerous, and like an opposition to womenhood. its talking out about the problems with a system that cannot support men and women without demonizing one, about how the concept of manhood being an opposition to women is a harmful stereotype used against trans individuals, rather than cis men. please stop listening to radfems. we're all on the same side, we're all fighting for the same rights. stay alive and take care of each other.

take my little guy i made 4 pride last year. he wants friends

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling out my friend's husband's shitty attitude about money?

For context: I (28) have been friends with this woman, R (29 f), since middle school. I met her husband twice before the wedding and wasn't impressed but didn't see any red flags.

Oh how the flags have reddened.

R and her husband regularly host game nights that feature mostly video games. He always has a controller and most of the time wins every game. And he is a very sore winner about it. It is also very obvious that only his male friends are prioritized during these game nights and the women and women-presenting among us are just bodies in the room to entertain them and grab them drinks. I was uncomfortable with this but didn't realize others in the group felt the same way until very recently.

The gals and non binary pals in the group have started having monthly dinner dates without the guys there. These have been an absolute highlight, letting us get to know each other and reconnect with high school friends without being drowned out by the guys.

And as the gals have been talking, its become more obvious that R's husband is not a great guy. He's made suggestive comments towards most of the women in the group (things along the line of "I would date you if I wasn't married" and "if I were to have a threesome with my wife, I'd choose you") and again, favors the men in the group always. He'll make big mansplaining speeches about abortion rights and leftist politics while whining about being told he shouldn't support JKR and treating me like a stripper for performing in drag. (His super religious x-ian friend was more excited and impressed by my Gerard Way Halloween outfit than mr. Left wing 😵). Frankly, my best friend refuses to go to his house anymore and is convinced he's trying to cheat on his wife, but that's just speculation.

This past weekend was a double feature, game night one day and girl's night the next evening. Game night was incredibly awkward because 3 people showed up and I had to deal with R and her husband alone for like an hour. This was when he made the comment about drag shows being like a strip club and that he *wanted* to support my passion but it just made him so *uncomfortable*. I really wouldn't push the issue if he said he didn't want to go, but he has to look like the good guy always and won't say his homophobia with his whole chest unless challenged. Whatever.

So at game name, R's husband randomly brought up that she "owes" him money for a credit card bill he paid. They aren't my finances so I don't care how they share money, but it was really rude of him to bring it up in front of her friends. We all just kept our mouths shut (because he talks about money a lot) and went on with the party.

The next night was girl's night. And a lot more people showed up. Another friend I've known since middle school, L (29 f), has a rich lawyer husband. During dinner the topic of a sugar daddy came up and L started joking about how she can live off her husband's salary and what's his is hers and what's hers is hers. R started to agree like that was how it is with her husband. So I pointed out that he was asking her to pay him back in front of everyone. She deflected saying that he was joking and I responded that it wasn't a very funny joke.

It wasn't until after dinner that I realized my comments about R's husband probably came off as aggressive and rude. I just genuinely don't understand why he would make a joke out of hounding his wife for money if they're actually sharing finances. On top of his other shitty qualities and tone deaf remarks, I honestly don't think he was joking and she's covering up for his rude behavior to pretend like their marriage is as harmonious and peaceful as everyone is told its supposed to be. Was I the asshole for calling it out? Does he deserve to be called out to his face next time? Or should I shut my mouth next time?

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[old-school-butch]

Gender and sports

I'm not going to reply directly to my dumb and dumber anons about women's boxing but just say this: women and men are biologically distinct. There's no reason that we are discussing this without knowing the genetic information and the hormonal profile of the boxers involved. No. Reason. At. All.

It is purely the result of trans activist lawyers that closed ranks around Castor Semenya (who is a man as we now know, but they wanted to generate the same uncertainty around him that they are making now) that forces these dumb arguments by saying it violated athletes privacy to disclose the true nature of their gender. It does not. It's clear and evident and it's offensive to women to pretend that gender is some kind of impossible question that can only be answered with official statements like 'she lives as a woman'. We don't care. A sport is something you do with your body. Your competitors deserve to know about the body involved.

If you are a man who has a disorder of sexual development, so sad too bad, you will not do well in sports against men who are revving on the full T profile because testosterone is fucking incredible when it comes to muscle, bone and cardio development. That's why athletes cheat with testosterone and not by taking extra estrogen.

If you're a woman who identifies as a man and who takes a buttload of T and competes against men, no one cares because you still won't do well because your organs, bones and muscles still developed as a female for most of your life. Seriously, that's the Olympic rules on transmen, it's like 'lol, ok ladies good luck' - look them up.

If you are a woman who has a disorder of sexual development (DSD), you might do very well in sports, assuming the regulations about testosterone don't trip you up and yes that does include hormones acquired to treat your condition which, by the way, would include most women who have the more serious DSDs.

Intersex men and intersex women are not the same. This term actually describes so many different conditions that it's a bit absurd to use much less act like they create similar conditions in men and women. And there is no such thing as a human hermaphrodite who sexually matures as both male and female - for all those clownfish aficionados out there.

Intersex women do not go through male puberty (with all its advantages) because why would they?, it's male organs that drive male puberty - but they don't always go through female puberty either (with all its disadvantages) because that's why it's called a disorder. Many people with serious DSDs NEED hormonal intervention to develop healthy bodies. If a woman is lucky enough to have the specific disorder of sexual development (DSD) that means she doesn't go through female puberty but still has enough hormones for her organs to develop normally and her bones not turn to dust and somehow develop a high muscular response then yeah, she will develop differently than most women. Even luckier, she might have more testosterone than most women - and well, then she's playing a fair game in bringing the body she was born with to the game. A woman is a human adult female. All human adult females who haven't altered their bodies in a way that creates a competitive advantage is playing a fair game.

If you are male, good luck but you don't belong in women's sports.

If you're a woman then you can bring the body you were born with to the game. And we have a right to know if you didn't.

[thepumpkincorsair]

So, I watched the first episode of “Those About To Die” on Peacock.

I enjoyed it, and Im willing to do write ups if folks would be interested…

Since I wana talk about details, and I dont wana spread spoilers, everything is below the readmore.

What I liked: 🔵 And what I disliked: 🟠

Total Ranking: 8/10 - very good, worth the watch ��

🟠 It dove into the Intrigue right away, which made it hard to watch while doing other things, but I can appreciate a show that grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you down into the couch to pay attention.

🔵 It wasn’t boring, quite the contrary, I felt fully engaged throughout the episode. Theres a lot of small moving parts to the story, and it orchestrates together incredibly well so far, even for Episode One. The writing is very well done, which is a lynchpin for me on a show like this. You cant pretend to be an intrigue type series without a proper plot. And, in my opinion, they’ve set their plots well right away. Tenax getting those shares in Blue was a great con, which had clearly been going a while, but we only saw the tail end of it. I see this little setup as a great look at how the writers DO their work. Connections matter, money does more than talk, and if you play the game wrong, you die. Don’t trust anyone.

🔵 I REALLY enjoyed the historical aspects of the first episode. Like, yes, this plot happened, its a historical fiction and a number of these characters exist in history, but its not just that. Its the small details, the different knives in different cultures, the veterinary care of race horses, the deities from more than just the main roman pantheon, the drinkware, the VARIOUS clothes from various cultures and climates…. And yes, women often went topless when they were a sxwrkr. Gotta advert.

🔵 ON THAT SUBJECT: can we talk about “3 sesterce… and Im tighter than both of them.” MY BOY, YOU ARE RIZZIN TOO HARD AND I LOST IT. Please, please let him be in future episodes. Omfg….

🟠 I am forced to concede the accuracy isnt PERFECT, the horses wore modern driving bridles to go with their ancient styled chariots. However, Im realistic about how many horses are trained today to pull anything without blinders, and how much safer modern bridles are. I’ll also note: I absolutely saw the animal handler grab the horse differently (calmly) before the riot surrounded it, then direct the horse to dance in the crowd. Great training with the horse! Bad camera angle. Lol

🔵 I also really like this cast so far. Everyone fills their roles incredibly well.

Hopkins doesnt even need an introduction, the mans a legend and brings all his experience to the stage with him every time. -chefs kiss-

Rheon was great in GOT, he plays calculatingly unhinged exceptionally well. But I wont lie, seeing him in a more commanding, level headedly calculating person?

Hashim….. HASHIM!!! Im SO excited to see where his character goes. We haven’t seen much of him in Ep 1 just yet, but he’s clearly going to be one of the main players. Im not familiar with him as an actor, but I’ve enjoyed his performance so far, and I REALLY appreciate the story being told.

Martins is also incredible. She does a fantastic job of knowing the danger her characters children are facing, but also knowing she HAS to play her cards right to save them. She personifies the strength and determination of a mother perfectly.

🔵 Quite honestly, I have to give points to that whole plot-line in general. That point of view is something we’ve had hidden from us (in America) for so long, that I think a LOT of people have… become calloused. I hope seeing it will potentially help others come to an empathetic understanding. This isn’t glossing over what happened, or whats likely to happen to any of the three children.

🔵 I also want to gush over actually SHOWING the wider Roman Empire, we get to see the direct effect of their influence in both Africa and Spain so far. Egypt was their bread basket, and without that grain, youve got problems. The Berber Coast has animals, and people they want, and we see money exchanging hands for the purpose of those ends. We see how the locals were told they’d be treated fairly, paid properly, and even eventually become citizens, like the Spaniards, only to have those promises thrown aside as soon as the Romans have better money to make. These people gave the Empire everything it wanted, but the Empire is never satisfied.

We also get to appreciate how far west the empire went when the Spaniards are trying to sell their horses. (Plot-bunny: Andies are dancing horses, exceptionally athletic, and a prime choice for chariots, though, a standardbred is the usual choice for modern cart racers)

🟠 I will say the CGI isnt the best. You can tell exactly when they change from live action to CGI. But this is a minor issue for me tbh. Its passable CGI, and they use it to avoid putting animals or people in danger which, obviously, I appreciate. A chariot wreck was shown, annnnnd it was pretty darn accurate to how messy those would have been. Not good times y’all. Not good times. Also, the ramifications of a major concussion. Oof. At least the guy would have barely knew what was happening? Still.

🔵 The sound effects were enough without being over the top. Often times when theres gore to show, theres all these extra squelching noises and gratuitous blood… not this time. It’s actually… pretty durn accurate. Don’t ask how I know. I don’t wana tell you, and you dont wana know.

Overall, it was a really solid first episode, and I plan on watching the rest.

[ransomnote]

I don’t mean this in an argumentative way or anything but

you reblogged a post kinda saying 'I hate men jokes are similar to suicide jokes' and tagged it with 'hating men is now comparable to suicide apparently' but I don’t think that was the point

The post was comparing the type of jokes and what effect they can have on people around you—it wasn’t implying that hating men is anywhere remotely as bad as suicide!

I just don’t understand why we always have heated debates about the kind of jokes we should be allowed to make instead of doing actually useful shit. 'I hate men' jokes won’t really do anything for us. Don’t get me wrong, I make them too, but that post sort of has a point because you’ll ultimately just alienate the people around you if you do it too much. Plus, it’s a bit weird to go "oh, now women aren’t allowed to complain about their abusers anymore" when that wasn’t even the point?!

You’re allowed to do whatever you want, and it’s important to talk about that stuff, but I hate men jokes and coping with trauma through humor are not the same. To imply that they are is honestly gonna do more harm imo.

i'm only humoring this on the off chance you're a mutual i care about. let's get it over with.

you're misinterpreting what i meant by that tag. no i do not think genderkoolaid was literally saying "hating men is as bad as killing yourself". what that fucker was doing however was comparing making jokes targeting abusers (men) to making jokes about killing your self, saying they "wear people down" in the same way. i find this sentiment disgusting, to conflate (jokes about) hating men with (jokes about) suicide. my jokes about hating men do not alienate the men in my life i care about, who i love and have talked to about this due to spiraling out because of ocd and getting into "oh god what if they think i mean THEM??" holes. they know i love them, they know i'm in their corner, and i have no interest in babying them or censoring myself to not hurt their feelings when im talking about the wider issue of misogyny, or not even misogyny sometimes, just the issue of "what the actual hell is wrong with like. most men?"

i don't make these jokes a lot, only when topical, which i think is more often than genderkoolaid is comfortable with considering its entire blog is dedicated to "men's liberation" and "transandrophobia", things that do not exist. misandry, you may have noticed, is not real for the same reasons racism against white people isn't real; there's no system baked into the structure of our society that oppresses the group in question for their gender or skin color. there is no institution slated against white people for being white, there is no institution slated against men for being men. by pretending like there is, you radicalize yourself right wing pretty fast and find any fucking thing, such as non-men making jokes about being oppressed by men, and kid yourself into thinking that's oppression. momentary discomfort becomes oppression. being rejected becomes oppression. not being handed sex on a silver platter becomes oppression, and oh look at that we've arrived at incel station, there's another stop after this one but if you get off at that one you end up shooting up a walmart.

this is a very long winded way of saying that the men in my life who i trust and who have given an ounce of thought into why i would make a joke about hating men do not mind it. i am happy to drive away as far as possible from me the men who i do make genuinely uncomfortable with those jokes, the type who see those jokes and think "this is making me feel the same way as it does when someone is joking about killing themselves".

lastly i don't know why you added that last part. Yeah. duh. that's why the genderkoolaid post was fucking stupid. i really don't know why you're telling me, the guy who wasn't doing that, that.

if you decide to respond with another anon indicate if you're a mutual or not so i can decide if i want to block you or right the misunderstanding.

[batsysquared]

The controversy going on with the Olympics right now is completely and utterly horrific. It is a bubbling cauldron of intersexism, transphobia, racism, and misogyny. And it's not new! This is a story that has played out before - not just in the Olympics, but in various situations even outside the realm of sporting, all across the world. When it comes to intersex people, the utter social dissection and public humiliation for not being Proper is a story that marks our very births, the one that begins from the day we're born, and every time it comes up it is deeply entwined with all of these other prejudices. But this time, there's one thing that different. The (alleged! completely alleged!) medical proof that's landed in their hands has enabled them to show plain and bare that they never cared about anything but their hatred of The Undefinable Enemy, and anyone who is sufficiently marginalized can be placed in that box when narratively convenient. To me, a person who ticks every box on display here, this was obvious - and I'll be putting aside the racism and plain misogyny for now since those are already well covered. But as far as interphobia goes - we've never fit in the category of "cis", whether we consider ourselves to be men or women, and frankly people have a hard time wrapping their heads around us being trans, excepting people who just hate trans people for existing. It's because of this that many intersex people just want to be seen as normal - and, wouldn't you know it? That's a talking point that TERFs and other various transphobes use to pretend they just care oh so much! "Oh, don't bring up those poor people! They just want to be normal boys and girls just like us, they're just rare, unique, disgusting victims of a birth defect! Not perverted and ill freaks like you!" So now, nobody has an excuse for missing what they really think when they say this: the second they can find alleged proof that a woman isn't correctly a woman - the people who manage to acknowledge that intersex and trans aren't the same thing go ahead and talk about how she's a failed man and ought to be treated as such. "It's unfortunate that she has this horrific genetic affliction," they say, "but, well...a man is a man." So much for being treated normal, right? But less obvious before this incident was that every time, every time, they missed what any intersex person ever meant by "wanting to be normal". And of course, it's because they never cared. Our struggles are only brought up solely to shoot down the arguments trans people and allies make that involve us, never to actually consider us or acknowledge the intersexist systems that the occasional trans person or ally will accidentally support. No, again, that'd involve caring. If they did, they'd understand that the plea to be treated normally is a plea to simply be considered as the thing the intersex individual wants to be considered as, without any scrutiny or "buts" or "you poor freak, we need to fix you", regardless of whether they choose to be a man or a woman or both or neither.

Yet even when they're afforded the grace of male or female, it is never without scrutiny. Every day we're questioned, even for those of us not aware of what we are. The societal push against our normality is so stark in every conversation we have about masculinity or femininity and its expectations that these pressures are often the only reason intersex people even learn they're intersex! The circumstances of their birth are hidden from them, a footnote in a surgical record, and they later have some other "problem" that must be fixed. Sometimes this problem that really affects them in some tangible life-altering medical sense, and sometimes it only does so as a result of society saying "hey, are you sure you're the thing you know you are and that we said you are? because damn you're hairy/tall/short/strong/chiseled/soft/tragically micropenised/possessed of breasts of an unusually small or large size for what you Ought To Be!". And of course, either way, once they're adults it's their prerogative to correct whatever they want! But that doesn't excuse the way that society treats this as an expectation of us, and no amount of societally enforced self-loathing changes the fact that it is an expectation, even when this false sympathy is expressed for our plight. (And, you know, if they cared about what intersex people want or the plights we go through, they'd spend less time crying about the nonexistent problem of children being "mutilated" by the trans menace and more about the very real and constant tragedy that is coercive surgical sexual assignment of literal newborns, but lol. lmao.)

My solace here is that now these incidents can be pointed at as evidence that the cry of "don't use intersex people as a shield!" is hollow concern trolling - and also that it makes clear how important liberation from both gender and sex as rigid categories are for, well, everyone, but for intersex people in particular. I'd also hope to see less "oh so transphobia only matters when it affects a cis person" pop up when intersex people get smeared into bloody streaks across the ground, as if women who do wish to fit in the category of "cis" but fail to be considered as such by society due to the circumstances of their birth don't also feel the constant daily sting of transmisogyny - or as if transphobia simply misses people for whom the terms "afab" and "amab" are most relevant. Being both trans and intersex, my experience has been that the discriminatory line here is about as thin as it gets.

But, well, one of these revelations is more important than the other, so I'll settle for not being a toy to be played with by fascists over being slapped by casual intersexism from people that at least recognize we should be working together. Sometimes that's the most one can ask, yeah?

[chaosfairy18]

Spelling lessons

A short (2k) fic with the idea that I posted recently of Dutchy not being able to understand English spelling (and being annoyed about it) and then accepting some help from Specs

It has some Decs (DutchyxSpecs) at the end because it was too cute not to (Also Dutchy's name is Zacharias and Specs' Victor, there is only a small scene that is relevant, but it can't hurt to say)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

English spelling might be Dutchy‘s nemesis actually.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t write, he’d learned back in elementary school in the Netherlands, he knew the alphabet, thank you very much, and he also knew how to speak German – they lived close to the border – and even read most of it because it just looked similar, he could at least guess the meaning if he had to and since he knew how to speak it, it wasn’t too difficult to grasp reading or writing, all in all.

French was harder, but since there had been some people speaking French in his little town, he’d also learned speaking that.

He might have been an annoying kid, always hanging on their lips and asking for more words, more things to learn, but it was just too interesting to him.

Now he couldn’t really write much in French, he’d learnt a bit back then, but it wasn’t enough, not really.

Then he’d gone on that ship to America with his aunt and uncle. The time they had took to get to America was more than enough to grasp the basics of English, especially due to its similarities to French, Dutch and German. The men and women Dutchy had spent every day learning the language from mostly hadn’t been able to read though, and it wasn’t like he had to learn that. He knew how to read, it couldn’t be that hard.

After being basically ditched by his aunt and uncle he’d quickly found the lodging house – after all he had learnt the language and could ask around where a boy with some money could find work or a place to stay – and Kloppman hadn’t believed he was only there for less than a day, though he was even more impressed when he correctly guessed his accent and started talking in German which was still easier than English though it wouldn’t take long until he didn’t care what he spoke.

Now all that was well and good if it weren’t for the fact that he had to sell newspapers that had headlines. See, these newspapers were sometimes available in Dutch or German, but of course most were in English and for some reason the Americans or the Brits had decided to make their spelling the most confusing thing in existence. If he heard one of the other newsies say the headline, he knew exactly what it meant, but combining that with the letters he saw on the board? It felt impossible, even now.

Maybe it was his pride in knowing languages that kept him from asking anyone for help, maybe it was that he avoided the language classes in the lodge and instead took the ones on math, but at this point he was almost dead set to not comply with this idiotic spelling in newspapers.

That didn’t mean he could read the headline any better.

“What’s it say?”, he asked Skittery, pretending he was just cleaning his glasses and therefore couldn’t see it right now.

Skittery, who had been reading a novel of some kind as he was standing in line scoffed and snapped his book shut, obviously annoyed. “It says ‘learn to read, idiot’.”

Dutchy froze as he was just about to put on his glasses again. What had he just called him? He could read, in two (and a half) languages even, he could even write and speak more languages than Skittery could probably name, and he dared call him an idiot-

“Says the guy that fell into the river last week.”, interrupted Specs, subtly pushing Dutchy away from Skittery before he really could let the situation escalate and call Skittery names in 4 different languages and whatever else he had picked up over the years.

“That don’t make me an idiot, clumsy maybe. And I got shoved.”

The tall boy quickly got engrossed in his novel again, only looking up if Tumbler was running around him, otherwise ignoring them.

“You aren’t an idiot.”, was the first thing Specs said to him, all quiet as if it was a secret.

“I know. It’s not my fault English is so-“

“You can’t keep not learnin’ because you don’t want to, Dutch.” Specs pushed his hands in his pant pockets. “I could help you, if you want.”

Dutchy’s first instinct was to bite back that he didn’t need help, but maybe he did. And Specs was his closest friend, it wasn’t like he was making fun of him. “If you’re offerin’.”

“You could read books if you learnt. Spoil the ends for Skitts.”

He snorted, hitting Specs with his elbow. “You’ve seen me read books.”

“Not in English.”

“Fine. I’ll let you help.”

They got their papes from Wiesel – every day Dutchy had to bite back a comment on it was actually Weasel because he knew how to read that word – and split up to sell, Specs saying he’d come by later to start their ‘lessons’.

Of course, Specs had to keep his word, one unsold pape and a book in hand, bowler hat and vest already discarded somewhere in the bunk room. He wouldn’t get out of it then.

Shame.

Dutchy let himself be dragged to the roof, the evening sun making the temperatures comfortably warm rather than sweltering. Specs dragged some crates to the middle of the roof, and they sat down around them, the newspaper and book placed on them.

“So, you can read the alphabet fine, right? That’s the same.”

“Again: You’ve seen me read a book and write my name.”

Specs rolled his eyes. “Yes, just wanted to make sure.” He opened up the first article of the World. “Maybe it’ll help if I read it to you. You know the words, then you’ll see the spelling as I say it.”

Shrugging, he moved a bit closer to Specs so he could properly see the line he had his finger under to indicate what he was reading. He didn’t want help like this, but since at a first glance he could only read the shorter words in the article he probably did need it.

Sadly.

“Man with parachute leaps from Brooklyn Bridge-“

“Wait that’s how you spell bridge? Where is the e coming from?” He could live with silent letters, at least if there was an explanation for them.

Specs pinched the bridge of his nose. “I dunno the rules, Zach. Just- read with me, okay?”

The rest of the article was interesting enough – the man had used a modified umbrella to jump of the bridge and had only barely survived – but Dutchy wasn’t sure how much he was learning yet. Some words he knew and recognized, others he was completely stunned as to where that spelling could come from and if he could remember them.

“I don’t think it’s working.”, he sighed after the third article.

“We just started today. Rome wasn’t built in a day and all’at.”

Dutchy bit back his retort and just kept listening to Specs read, trying to recognize words he’d heard today before.

Of course, the lessons didn’t stop after a day. Contrary to what Dutchy had hoped for, Specs was very good at remembering it every evening and dragging him to the rooftop, going through more articles or through a chapter of a book.

And even worse: He had to admit it was working.

Especially in papes there were headlines that came again and again, so he recognized almost everything on the chalkboard every morning now, there were just a few words that he had to quietly ask Specs about.

That also meant that he began to slack a bit in their lessons. It was working, but he didn’t like admitting to being wrong, so he still sat there – he was Specs’ friend after all and he was going through a lot of trouble to teach him – but he wasn’t listening to his every word anymore, instead looking up to see his dark eyes trace the words and his mouth open again and again.

At first it wasn’t that intense, just looking at his friend a bit before going back to the tiny black words, but the more he looked at him, the more he had to admit that he was fascinating to watch. His eyes were dark, even in the light, pupil and iris not much different in colour, almost as dark as the coffee they got from the nuns in the morning when they were lucky.

Specs didn’t seem to notice whenever he wasn’t paying attention, so it happened more and more over the days.

And not just in their lessons either. Dutchy’s gaze was drifting to Specs more and more frequently while selling, eating in the lodge, standing in line at the distribution centre and when they got ready for the day in the morning.

As already stated, Dutchy wasn’t an idiot, there weren’t a lot of reasons why he would be drawn to his friend so much. It was obvious, really, and the last few lessons he had spent his time half listening to Specs – he always looked so sad if Dutchy didn’t get any of the words they already went over – and half planning to show his affections to him.

Reading out loud a chapter of one of the few romance books they had down in the lodge didn’t work – Specs was only happy that he had gotten through it with almost no stumbling over words – and the extra touches while selling together didn’t seem to work either.

Maybe he’d just have to be direct about it.

The next evening they sat on the rooftop of the lodge again and Dutchy let Specs talk a bit, attempting to explain why a specific word was spelt how it was – because of course after Dutchy complained that he didn’t get the rules he had looked them up and asked Kloppman because he was invested into helping his friends like that – and only getting distracted by the way his lips moved and his eyes shone just a bit brighter than usual.

It seemed as good a time as any.

Dutchy made Specs trail off by tilting his friend’s chin up with his finger and leaning in close. “Maybe for today I can teach you something, Victor.”

The other’s eyes grew wide and taking his quickly reddening face as confirmation Dutchy kissed him for a short moment, smiling as Specs chased after his lips just a bit when he leaned back.

“So you’re okay with that?”

“Very.”, croaked out Specs, still not completely convinced this was actually happening.

Smiling wider, Dutchy pulled his glasses off – he’d felt them press into each other uncomfortably in the first brief kiss – and leaned in again, just trying out how Specs’ lips felt against his, how it felt like to hold his jaw as he did so, how he reacted when he moved his hair out of his face.

Everything was as good as he’d thought, Specs also getting more comfortable throughout the minutes, he almost wasn’t burning red anymore when they separated again, Dutchy leaning his forehead against Specs’.

“Hope you liked the lesson.”, he whispered, glad he’d begrudgingly accepted the offer for spelling lessons weeks ago.

Specs looked at him like he’d just taught him all the secrets of the universe. “Yeah. I’d love more. Only if you-“

He gave him a peck on the cheek. “Of course, darling.”

That made Specs burn up again, putting his head in his hands and groaning. “You can’t just say that!”

“I can call you whatever I want, darling.”

Specs curled even more in on himself, ears completely red. “Stooop.”

Laughing more about his friend’s state, Dutchy leaned in closer and put an arm around his waist, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat of the evening sun and his new partner next to him.

[lookinthymirror]

some highlights because i can't stop laughing:

spanish podemos party leader ione belarra asked the government to prevent the israeli team maccabi tel aviv and sports fans from entering madrid, spanish media El Pais reported on monday.

the excuse was "we do not want the fans to glorify genocide" said by organization Secretary pablo fernández in a press conference, El Pais quoted.

HUH?????? yes sports fans are violent and terrible but singling out jewish sports fans (and btw anti zionists won't give up this stupid idea that only jews support israeli teams because they are dedicated to pretending only jews can be israelis) and saying THEY ENJOY AND PROMOTE GENOCIDE IS FUCKING INSANE. israelis are not monsters whose sole purpose in life is to run around trying to get genocides to happen everywhere wtf. i'm not going to be gaslit by idiots who keep chanting "all sports fans are bad" because i wasn't aware jewish sports fans were *uniquely terrible* and therefore deserved every bit of antisemitism.

i'm a woman who can't stand sports sometimes because of sports fans and even i can see through this BS.

belarra basically supports BDS because the article states "she wants nothing to do with a country that commits genocide". GIRL YOU ARE FROM SPAIN?! europeans trying to put all the attention on Israel to hide/ignore their dirty laundry will never not be funny lmfao. I WILL NOT BE LECTURED BY EUROPEANS ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS!

directly from the article: "she also claimed that her request was based on past violent attacks at sports games where israeli teams were present, such as the pogrom that took place in amsterdam in november of last year." GIRL???? what is this rewriting of history. you'd think the pogrom happened where israelis were the ones doing the hunting when *some* were racist which led to a jew hunt on the local jews and the jews visiting. no way she just said that israelis cause violence wherever they go and then pointed at a freaking pogrom.

jews: get attacked on the basis that they are jewish and experience a fucking pogrom in november of 2024.

the world: hmm but what were you wearing? btw you were just asking for it.

?????????

lastly: "in order to ensure respect for human rights and avoid incidents, we request that, in the exercise of their respective powers, they adopt appropriate security measures to prevent the entry into the country of entities and persons who support and provide cover for genocide and to cease any relationship with those who perpetrate it,” she wrote, according to El Pais. thank you to fucking spain for finally caring about human rights.

when intersectionality is bastardized and takes a dark turn: "in december, belarra accused israel of committing genocide in syria" lmfao syria?! girl what

“israel is taking advantage of the instability in syria to advance its colonial and genocidal plan, bombing several areas, including damascus,” belarra wrote on social media. the buzzwords 😭

“virtually no western media outlets are reporting on it. international inaction in the face of genocide endangers humanity as a whole,” she continued.

what social media brainrot does to you. no, actually this is how stupid antisemitism makes you. there will always be an endless amount of conflicts but i'm sure the jewish one will definitely kill everyone and the planet and make humanity extinct (sarcasm).

edit: she served as the leader of the ministry of social affairs in spain. why are these types the ones to be EXTRA antisemitic???? like these types (also like gender studies/women's studies students) are supposed to be kinder to us and more understanding because they're supposed to care about human beings but whatever. i guess we are not people!