#like am i being called a conservative or something

[balert]

moral conservative

Yeahhhh not quite bud

[kirbye]

I hate art tiktok why did I just see the take that realism is an “art style for conservatives” and “devoid of depth and creativity”. You have to be joking.

[hauntedtotem]

I think the biggest red flag for me regarding the hopelesspeaches and lio convoy stuff, their entire group (especially lio) has near identical speech patterns and dynamics as my mom's online friend group. Which is less of a red flag and more of a raging wildfire tbh

[mirage-coordinator]

post about how censorship is a dangerous thing, and that throwing out “what if a CHILD saw this?” about things you don’t like is parroting conservative rhetoric (because it’s true, some things are going to be uncomfortable, and will make you uncomfortable, but should not be forbidden on the grounds of that discomfort)

it’s some stupid fuckwit covertly arguing that actually, they shouldn’t have to face any criticism for posting their shitty incest fanfic under the guise of a take that any average person would think is perfectly reasonable (they’re idiots who put that shit out in public and are not immune to people pointing out Hey That’s Weird)

[troonwolf]

actually I have one more thing to say and it’s that the tone of all these posts are like “stupid ignorant antis and their stupid moral crusade, always thinking they’re on the moral highground. they dont realise that actually the moral highground is MINE. they are evil and I am good <3″

like if I just change words in posts from “anti” to “pro” or w/ever, you would not be able to tell who wrote the post. in your extremes and your logical fallacies you re exactly the same. look within yourself. you know it to be true

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

All I can do until we see what happens with this election is hope, distract myself, and try to get others to vote, because if I think too hard about it my anxiety and depression gets worse and the voice in the back of my head that tells me to hurt myself and go hide in the woods or something gets louder

[fan-art-ic]

[sugarcult]

.

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[teaboot]

Do you think that cis men feel the same way as trans men do? Like with how men get treated by society as being inherently evil and as predators?

I think maybe both cis and trans men experience these issues but it's easier for a trans guy to point it out because he gets to see people so quickly turn on him for being a man while transitioning

oh yeah definitely

I find "meninists" fucking obnoxious, especially as any of their VALID concerns fall under the bracket of feminism, but there does exist a presence of radfems and terfs that are scarily eager to lash out at anything resembling masculine that. Definitely needs to be addressed somehow

Like. There's a mile of middle ground between "Um yeah women have problems, whatever, but what about ME and MY FEELINGS 😢" and "I am genuinely trying my best to be thoughtful and considerate of others, and everything I do is being met with bad-faith interpretations and dismissal"

And I think the best advice I have for anyone else getting bogged down by this is that. like.

If someone is determined to see the worst in you, nothing you can do to prove otherwise will be enough. You will never change that person's mind. They don't want you to change their mind. So like... just focus on you, and keep doing your best, and learn, and know that people determined to find something nasty don't really have an issue with YOU- they have their own experiences and traumas coloring their worldview.

Someone who is determined to see you as a monster will only ever see a monster. So it's better to ask yourself, "would a monster do what I'm doing?". If the answer is yes, take steps to change that. If the answer is no, then it's not about you, and you can give yourself permission to move on.

So... yeah, I imagine cis men probably do feel the way I feel about this sorta thing sometimes.

Except, like. After a lifetime being a girl, living as a girl, fighting for equality as the only girl in a lot of men's spaces, being a feminist girl and an Eldest Daughter girl and calling out the bullshit only to later realize I'm not a girl... and that Im actually mostly a dude, still a feminist... at least when people call me a mysoginist, I know they're talking out their ass

I can kinda see where young men encounter their very first radfems calling themselves feminists and immediately become radicalized right-wing conservatives cause like. If I as a teen thought feminism meant Radfems and Terfs, I'd probably start running too

It's all just so exhausting

Any one group being wholesale grouped as "100% helpless gentle victim" or "100% selfish malevolent monster" is doomed, imo

(Now watch the notes blow up with "this is just 'not all men' rhetoric, lol)

But anyways I hate nuance I hate interpretation I hate implication and symbolism and context and I wish everything in the world was simpler so we could all blow a collective joint together and invent some new soups

[the-rad1o-demon]

[Image ID (sorta, basically just the text from it):

GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. OR DOOMSDAY. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

END image ID]

Hey, everyone. So yeah, this is happening. We're still fighting this battle. And we can't give up now. We can't. We can't stand idly by while one of the most important resources that helped us all wake up, or at least start to question things, is being threatened by the government.

We can't stand idly by when kids, teens, and adults just like us still trapped inside might lose access to the resource that could help them wake up. We can't stand idly by when they might lose access to their non JW friends and family. We CAN'T stand idly by when we can do something to stop this bill from passing.

I am sick and tired of this same old song, where conservative fuckers higher up think they can oppress everyone. I am FUCKING SICK of it.

Please, reblog both this post and the original post linked above what I've written, and do what you can to stop KOSA, please. We are running out of time.

I suggest that if it is within your power to do so, that you do more than simply reblog and assume someone else will do something. DON'T assume that. Please do more than just reblogging if you are able to, because that's not really enough at this point.

Call/email representatives in the House and tell them to oppose KOSA (you may want to list different reasons depending on who you're calling, some House representatives are anti-LGBTQ+, so it may be best to tell them to oppose because it violates people's privacy, safety, and anonymity online). Print posters and put them up where legal if you can.

Sharing all this information to other social media sites (Instagram, Reddit, TikTok, the bird app) to reach more people can really help too. The wider the reach, the better.

Thank you. Now let's fucking rip that bill apart like we rip apart Watchtower magazines and eat it for fucking breakfast. (In a "we're eating it and the politicians who are sponsoring it are looking on in horror" kind of way)

[punkitt-is-here]

I went back, read the FAQ, figured out I was working with bad information, and would like to present an actually polite version of the previous ask.

The other women you were having the "AFAB trans woman" debate with haven't been able to let go of it,

because anons have been accusing them of gatekeeping and TERF politics for providing anecdotes of, basically, AFAB people identifying as trans women to mock or overthrow their social groups. Citations below:

https://strawberry-crocodile.tumblr.com/post/742523159739334656/aita-for-warning-new-transfem-friends-that-someone

https://necronatural.tumblr.com/post/754196456131428352/sorry-but-if-youre-afab-you-do-not-get-to-call

I understand that the brazen, all-caps-bold-text mockery of any ask on this topic is great for driving off hateful anons pointed at you,

but if you could lend some credit to @patricia-taxxon 's responses, for example, it'd help take some hate off her back and really hep build my respect for you as an artist.

This will be likely my last proper response on any of this so be chill about it

I really, genuinely do not care that much about this subject much at all. It is a passing thought to me. I made the original post, responded once or twice, and made a quesadilla. it was fucking delicious. I do not appreciate the way you have talked to me. If you're going to treat yourself like someone I have to earn the respect back of instead of a random stranger on the internet who was very brazen to me in a one-off inbox message, I am not going to care.

With that out of the way: I have read the citations you have listed. I do not care. I have read them, thoroughly considered their points, and I still do not give a shit. What you are pointing at here in the first one is an individual perpetrating shitty behavior. I am not saying that this is the case, but if there was an assigned-male-at-birth woman perpetrating the same information, it would become very apparent very quickly how obvious it is that the issue is not with their gender identity, it is with the information they are spreading. Anyone is capable of misinformation, and I am not going to shit on and belittle a completely niche gender identity because one woman on the internet fucked up one time. If I did that, I'd be a hypocrite and would not be practicing any sort of good faith towards people with gender identities I do not fully understand. This is a core tenant of how I approach queerness. I do not need to understand someone to respect them. I do not need to worry about how conservatives will see us. I do not need to worry about the larger queer community when one person is being off-putting. I am not a fucking square. I achieve a lot of inner peace by simply practicing what you have named "tits-and-beer gender liberalism".

The second post you have linked is also something that I have read. I have considered the points in said post. My stance has still not changed. I do not think ID'ing as a transfeminine person when you were assigned female at birth is an inherently transphobic concept. Plenty of people in my notes have described experiences that very clearly and understandably outline why they do or why others might identify with the concept. I fundamentally disagree with the response because I do not believe that it is a transphobic idea. I am a transgender woman and have been for about half a decade now. My relationship with femininity is complex, and I am a binary transgender woman. I think in the grand scheme of gender identities, switching from one binary to the other has been pretty easy for me mentally. I am not intersex, I have never detransitioned in any way, and my family has been incredibly supportive. I transitioned specifically for the euphoria I got from identifying as a woman. I still have a complicated relationship with womanhood. Someone who has gone through many more hardships than I have is probably going to have an even more complicated relationship with femininity, and that is why I have no trouble imagining why something like an AFAB trans woman would exist. Perhaps someone has a complicated relationship with gender in relation to their intersex status and feels that the journey that transgender women take more closely aligns with their own rather than cisgender womanhood. Perhaps they are non-binary and have still transitioned to a more feminine-leaning identity. Perhaps they have de-transitioned, but now they are irreversibly changed by that experience and they are, in a way of thinking, "trans-feminine" because they are transitioning back to femininity. It is not hard for me to think of reasons. It is not saying that trans women are not real women. I think it is very clear to me that "transfem" can easily describe an experience with femininity that differs from the cisgender experience. It is no less valid, it is simply different, as with all things.

"Transfem" can mean "a man transitioning into a woman", but it can also describe a complex approach towards self-identification. We can argue semantics all we want, but I do not care personally. I do not think transfem means transitioning from man to woman exclusively. I am a binary transgender woman, and I do not agree that that is all it is. My journey as a transgender individual has been very uncomplicated compared to others, but it is still an ocean deep. I do not want to reduce that journey and identification down to a simple "man become woman" because that betrays the inherent complexity of transitioning and figuring out yourself.

Ultimately, to me, it comes down to not giving a shit. I am rarely, if ever, going to meet an AFAB transfem person. You are rarely, if ever, going to meet an AFAB transfem person. It is an incredibly niche gender identity with a lot of baggage, as we have seen. It is never going to matter in the broad scheme of things that they exist because 99% of people are not going to bring them up in the wider conversation about transfemininity. I know that finding your identity can be a rough, arduous process. I am not going to deprive someone of the joy of self-discovery, even if it is a complex or contradictory idea. I do not fully understand neopronouns. I do not fully understand things like polyamory or he/him lesbians or AFAB transfems. I do not need to. In real life, you hang out with people and share food and good times together. None of this shit matters. If I am ever so lucky to meet someone with a contradictory or confusing identity, I am happy that my words may provide them comfort and that they won't live to hide themselves around me. Making someone feel like they have to hide parts of their self is the last thing I would ever want anyone to experience.

I have no beef with Patricia. I quite like her work. When I saw her response, I disagreed. I still do. I am not going to start agreeing with an idea I am expressly opposed to because someone asked. But it is not the end of the world. I would appreciate, if my followers are sending her harassment, that they fucking stop, because it's not that big a deal. If anyone from my post is sending anyone hate because of a public disagreement on that post, I ask you kindly to stop and go outside. I do not condone the behavior. It is not that big a deal.

I am going to go make myself a ham and egg sandwich and practice tits and beer gender liberalism now. I hope this satisfies your request in some way.

[etherealily]

𝒮𝐻𝒜𝑅𝒟𝒮 // 🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇪​ ​🇯​​🇦​​🇨​​🇴​​🇧​​🇸​.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW, but discretion advised. Slur used.

This one is loooong.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Bender? Nah, bend...her (to your will).

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

Nate didn't really seem the type to get anxious.

Okay, scratch that. He got anxious when you weren't there to high-five him before a game.

But even that didn't come close to whatever the fuck he was feeling when he called you that evening, yelling as if you'd killed his fucking cat, or something.

"Come faster, come faster!", he urged, ignoring you as you informed him you were only human, and you were on your way as fast as possible. The lewd joke was right there, and he didn't take it. Something was seriously wrong.

"Why the hell are you so jumpy?"

"I'll explain when you get here. Slight change of plans. You're wearing something... conservative, yeah?"

"What?"

"Like, jeans and a T-shirt is fine, I guess.", he muttered, on the other end of the line, as if he was mentally picturing exactly what he wanted you to be wearing.

"Did you think my original plan was to show up in lingerie?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, stop being so fucking defensive!"

That was a slur that you just heard in his voice. "Are you drunk?"

"You're scarily good at this."

"Why are you drunk already?" Wasn't even dark yet.

"Can you just fucking drive, please?"

You rolled your eyes, taking a small moment to sadistically picture his head caught in the wheel, before placing your phone down and speeding up the car that unfortunately had to relive the trauma of driving because Nate Jacobs told it to.

The Jacobs household was infuriatingly stereotypical. Of course he'd have a pretty spectacular front doorstep. It was almost designed to lure you in.

You weren't even allowed to ring the doorbell, he answered the door much before. That was a shame. You wanted to be the one forcing him to come somewhere reluctantly, for once.

"Don't speak unless spoken to." Well, hello to you, too.

"What?"

"It's not just us."

No, no, no, no.

"Nate, you fucking asshole.", you hissed.

"I didn't know! My brother found out you were coming over and told my parents, so they cancelled plans to meet you."

"Why?"

"'Cause our Dad's a jerk, and my Mom's probably going to judge you, and my brother's a coward who hates me."

That was way too much Jacobs drama for one single minute, and you were not even two steps into the house.

"Wait, just-"

"It's fine, just sit next to me, shut up, and don't like... make eye contact."

"Am I meeting your family or getting into the cage with a fucking tiger?"

"Also, don't cuss.", he warned, pointing a finger at you and guiding you by your shoulders further into the abyss he called a home. "Smile. A lot."

Was it really even a normal family dinner if you had to be prepped this much? No, probably not.

"Hey, look who finally showed up!", he chuckled, the fakest breeze in his voice as he steered your shoulders towards a chair.

The rest of the Jacobs family looked up at you.

And suddenly, you'd have been fine clinging to Nate, because he was evidently the mildest of them. Rich freaks.

"Oh, the project partner." His mother, laying plates down on the table before patting your head, was a sight to behold. "Bit late.", she remarked, sickening sweetness lacing her tone as she stared pointedly at Nate behind you as if you couldn't fucking see it.

"Yeah, well, she's just learning to drive, y'know? Goes really slow."

Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, mama's boy, just say you had no intention of having your family here tonight.

"Nate, you never told me she could legally drive."

That must be the brother - the coward. He looked like he'd fucking rip you apart with just a glare.

"I didn't tell you anything.', he mumbled, more for you than him, before making his voice louder. "Y/N, this is my brother, Aaron, Aaron, Y/N."

His eyes made your skin crawl. Like you were a weapon he'd just been able to use against Nate.

"And, uh, my dad. Dad, this is, uh-"

You had no idea when your name had become so hard for him to pronounce, the way he was unable to get it out.

"Y/N, yes, I heard. I'm Cal. Cal Jacobs."

You'd take Nate forcing a gun down your throat to the feel of Cal's hand shaking yours any day.

In comparison, Nate's gun was basically the gentlest thing you'd ever be able to feel. A caress, essentially.

"Sit, sit.", he instructed, gesturing at you to do as he said in his own house or else. "So."

He was so fucking drunk. You could see it in his eyes.

Both Cal and Nate Jacobs were shitfaced.

Nate, you understood, because after hearing his description, even you seemed to need liquid courage to get through a dinner with his drunk dad.

"So.", responded Nate, blankly, as he sat down next to you, as promised.

The chairs you were on were fancy but seemed tired, in a way. Like they were putting up a strong front.

"What, pray tell, is this famous project that you've apparently been sneaking out for, according to Aaron?"

Oh, that was the problem! The sneaking out! Oh, that was okay, that was in your jurisdiction, you could just fix it. Make it sound like there was no other time to meet up. Cool cool cool.

"It's just this thing for psychology. About athletes and superstitions."

"My Nate doesn't have any superstitions. He wins because he's the best.", interjected his mother, as if you'd been holding a gun to his face and she'd just jumped in front of him. You looked at the giant plate she'd just set down. Fucking steak.

With a knowing glance at Nate, you nodded. "Yes, but jocks don't really like admitting it. So I just ask him about his buddies who do have superstitions. Seeing as he has none of his own."

You didn't bother to look at the fuck-you-so-much glare he was sending your way.

"Oh, yes, Mom, Nate's just the best. Don't you think he's just the best, Y/N?", cooed Aaron, clearly hinting at something only he and Nate were in on.

"Yes, yes, he's very good at what he does."

"What he does?"

"I mean, you are talking about him as QB, right?"

He took a gulp of water, nodding as he searched into your eyes for some tell that he'd expected you to have. "Right."

Nate subtly shook his head after you frowned at him. Let it go.

"So, you've taken psychology."

His dad didn't really seem the jerk that Nate had made him out to be. Sure, he had the whole terrifying handshake thing going, but he wasn't all bad. He was the only one with his sanity intact, and the fact that he was plastered yet normal was both relieving and mildly concerning.

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Always been interested in how it works."

"Can you read minds?"

"Essentially."

"Read mine."

"I... don't know you well enough."

"Later, then. When we know each other a bit better. Meanwhile, dig in."

Involuntarily, your gaze turned back to the asshole you'd had the misfortune of interacting with for the past three weeks, and he nodded, either telling you you did well, or giving you permission to eat.

Either way, your mouth was now shut and would continue to be unless someone forced it open. The awkward clinks of glasses and clangs of cutlery rang through the room, battling fruitlessly to dissolve the tension.

"How's the food?"

Why was Nate trying to get you to talk?

"Oh, great, I really like it."

Nate's mother smiled at that. "Well, thanks. It's actually a new recipe I found on some obscure old cooking show tape my mother had recorded, back in her day! God, I'm telling you, those were simpler times."

Oh. So Nate hadn't cooked. Couldn't say you were surprised.

"Well, it's lovely.", you replied, smiling down at the garbage you had to put into your system. It was nothing personal, really, steak was just gross.

"I must say, Y/N, you're so much more polite than that girl. She was a real-"

"Mom. Mom.", warned Nate, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his throat in a cut it out motion."She's friends with Maddy."

The entire table suddenly went silent, as if he'd just confirmed your involvement in a pyramid scheme. "Oh.", said Aaron, and his fucking eyes showed you he was full of pure mirth. "That's interesting."

"You're friends with both Nate and Maddy?", questioned Mrs Jacobs, as if trying so desperately to figure out your intentions for her baby boy.

"I'm friends with Maddy, and have been for... basically my whole life. And, yeah, I guess now I'm friends with Nate for the project. I don't get why it's so-"

"She's pretending to be her friend, Mom, alright? It's a childhood loyalty thing, but no one likes Maddy, she's a fu- she's not likeable."

Oh, so now Nate could suddenly write out your entire story and replace it with a script of his own making?

Acting as if she'd just dodged a cancer scare, she placed her hand on her chest, sighing in relief. "Thank god. You could've said that, dear. I was worried for a moment there."

You looked back down at the food. You couldn't shake the feeling that your lack of response had been a form of betrayal, though it was rooted in fear.

"So you and Nate are friends?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I don't know, Aaron, why do people befriend psychopaths? To save their own asses, of course.

"I mean... what do I even say to that?", you laughed, and it was supposed to mock him, but it just showed how nervous you really were. Fuck. Blood in shark-infested waters. "I guess he's... a nice guy, so, y'know."

Even you didn't believe that. Even NATE didn't believe that.

"That's a new one."

You nodded, clearing your throat as you continued to work on slicing up your steak. All three Jacobs men watched the piece go into your mouth and you wanted to throw it right back up.

"You think he's hot?"

"What?"

"Nate. My lil' bro. You think he's hot?"

"Aaron, honestly!", muttered his mother, shaking her head as if this was all just a playful banter session. "Stop it. Nate said they're friends, so they're friends."

Your phone buzzed.

'I really didn't know they'd be here.'

'Shut up.'

'Ur doing great.'

'I said shut up.'

'Lol.'

"Nate, didn't you tell her we've got a strict no-phones-at-the-table rule?"

You stuffed the phone back in your pocket, as well as any hope you'd get out of this house anytime soon.

"I mean, you're a total smokeshow. And he's..."

"Aaron."

Aaron smirked through his chewing, winking at you. "Well, he's attracted to smokeshows. Total match. But you're, what, a cheerleader? That's his real type."

"No, I'm not a cheerleader."

He sucked in breath, sharply, tutting as he shaked his head. "Tough luck."

"Aaron.", warned Nate, sucking his teeth. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying. It's not surprising he hasn't dicked you down yet."

THAT escalated fast.

"Aaron! No cussing at the table, and especially not in front of guests.", hissed Mrs. Jacobs, as if her youngest son's entire vocabulary didn't consist of the word 'fuck'. "I'm sorry, he gets like this when he teases his brother."

"Or maybe he... oh, wait, didn't he invite you here alone first?", mused Aaron, frowning in mock curiosity.

Nate's hand found your knee under the table, patting the side of it as if he could tell you were losing it. There was some kind of psychological warfare underfoot, and you weren't in on the joke, the origin or the punchline. You were being blindsided. Let it go. Fuck what his eyes told you, you'd fucking riot if you didn't get out of there right now.

Cal, who'd been perfectly silent for all this time, leaned back in his chair, his fork down and apparently, his booze-filled blood shooting up. "I'm curious, too. In more polite words than that. Why are you and Y/N just friends?"

Okay, this was clearly not your jurisdiction. This treatment was not because he'd, like, broken curfew or something.

"Dad, we're just partners. Project partners."

"Shame. She's a knockout."

Okay, Aaron saying that was creepy enough.

"No, seriously, Y/N, you're really beautiful. Nate couldn't do better if he tried." Sounded backhanded, and it probably was. "If you're not attracted to him, it's kind of an insult to me, isn't it?", he inquired, innocently, his eyes twinkling. "Aren't I good looking?"

"What the fuck are you guys doing?" It was weird seeing Nate playing the white knight in your story and not the dragon, but hey, you'd take it.

"I mean...", continued Cal, taking a bite of his food, all the while gazing at you. "Unless your issue is just with his personality. Because then..."

What. The. Fuck.

"Y'know.", said Cal, offhandedly, as if the entire fucking table didn't know what he was implying. "Just food for thought."

"What the fuck are you guys doing?", he repeated, his voice sounding more strained by the minute.

"Nate."

"No, Mom, I will fucking cuss, if they're sitting here being fucking assholes about it!"

"Don't you DARE talk to me like that, son!", yelled Cal, and suddenly, you felt like a voyeur zooming in on someone else's life, someone else's argument, someone else's issues.

Aaron lifted up his hands in defense, standing up as well. "Hey, man, I'm just saying. You're disappointing men everywhere if you don't hit that."

"Oh, you're one to talk, you bitchless waste of FUCKING space."

"One goddamn night! One goddamned night without this bullshit, please!"

"Oh, come on, Marsha, you know full fucking well you're no innocent here! You've raised these boys up so goddamn weak that they can't even fucking do their own laundry, and CLEARLY can't fucking learn RESPECT!"

Evidently the no-cuss-rule was out.

Nate's hand slammed down on the table next to you so hard your plate shook, and suddenly, you wished you had shown up in lingerie. At least the mother would've kicked you out as soon as you'd walked in.

Your eyes stayed on your fork, the shitty fucking steak, and you waited. For what, you didn't know. But eventually, Nate sat back down, and so did the other two Jacobs men.

Okay. Phew.

And then Nate muttered 'faggot', and suddenly, Aaron was ushering you into a room - Nate's room, he informed you, in a hurry - and you were locked in. Screams, the sound of things slamming on the floor, and a distinct crack ensued.

FUCKING CHRIST.

═══════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ═══════════════════

The light from the living room beamed into the room with the monogrammed pillows -pathetic, you had to remember to mock him for it later- about twelve minutes later.

You knew that because you'd been keeping track.

The entire evening was surrounded by a lack of clarity, and after whatever had happened out there that you were not allowed to be privy to, thankfully , you were now completely in the dark as to what the whole stiff, insinuation during dinner was all about. What, they thought you guys were hooking up, was that it?

But all that just dissipated once you saw Nate standing in the doorway, looking at you as if he had just accidentally broken your favourite toy on the playground at five years old. And he was even drunker than he was before.

And once more, you allowed your heart to break for Nate Jacobs.

Wait, no, scratch that.

Your heart broke for him, with none of your own volition. It just fucking happened.

"Are you okay?" What you were really asking was 'did he hurt you?', but you didn't say it.

He didn't respond, and instead took cautious steps toward you, as though you were a bomb he'd never learnt to dismantle before.

But the caution wore off quite fast, because suddenly, your hands were stroking his hair and he was clinging onto you like a vine. Or a python with its prey. TBD.

He kept muttering things into the crook of your neck, things that vaguely resembled 'I'm sorry', but, I mean, it was Nate.

That was usually followed by some kind of blackmail, right?

Blackmail, not pained moments when his mind led him to thoughts that made him grip tighter onto you, like the hug was his lifeline. RIGHT?

"I'm so fucking sorry."

Evidently, you'd heard him right the first time.

"It's okay. Shh. It's okay." At this point there was nothing else you could do except lie to him.

"I fucking hate him, he's a fucking asshole!", he grunted, his words muffled but strong in your hair.

"It's fine, I wasn't offended." You understood. People are weird when drunk. Not usually asking a minor to fuck them kind of weird, but maybe that was just your lack of exposure.

He pushed you away, looking at you as if you'd just suggested cannibalism or something even more sickening. "It's fine? You weren't offended? Y/N, my dad literally asked to fuck you! What, do you want him to, is that why you were looking at him like that?"

'He's sloshed, he's sloshed, he's sloshed.' , you reminded yourself, lest you punch him again.

"Nate-"

"No. I have a question.", he said, closing his eyes and then opening them wide for a moment. This told you that the liquor had just pierced his skull. "You- You fuck Shane Crestin, the biggest fucking cunt in the world, you wanna fuck my DAD, but you won't fuck ME?", he asked, his voice increasing in decibel and his finger repeatedly slamming against his chest, like he apparently wanted to do to you.

SLOSHED, SLOSHED, SLOSHED. Remember.

"Nate, I didn't fuck Shane, I don't want to fuck your dad, and I- I don't wanna fuck anyone!"

"Why not ME? Do you not like me? You think I'm a prick? I'm not good enough for your whore ass?"

"Nate, I'm just-"

"HOW ARE YOU SO FINE WITH MY DAD WANTING TO FUCK YOU?!"

"I'm not! It makes me sick, but-"

"SO WHY WON'T YOU SAY HE'S AN ASSHOLE? SAY IT! SAY IT!"

"Nate-"

"FUCKING SAY IT!"

You almost cried at how fast you had to dodge the lamp that came whizzing your way before crashing and disintegrating against the wall behind you.

It amazed you how you knew that this boy's mother and brother were probably still lingering in the same house, hearing this bullshit, and yet not a peep came out of them. Fucking jerks.

"Nate."

"I swear to god, Y/N, if you don't say it right now-"

"Fine, he's an asshole!"

He looked up at you. He didn't believe it. It's fine, you didn't give a shit anymore. It went without saying, and if he needed you to say it, he was an idiot. "Bullshit."

"You're not apologizing?"

"For what? Yelling? No, I'm not."

Deliberately obtuse, just like always.

Speaking of which, you were a hundred percent sure you'd been grazed at your temple. Your fingers returned from the site with red all over them.

"I could've been hurt." You displayed those fingers to him, right in front of the eyes, so he could better view the same scarlet gore you had to see in his first ever text to you, but he looked at them like you'd showed him his own face in the mirror.

'That's normal', his look said.

"You could've fucked my dad, too, but neither of those things happened tonight." This was what he actually said.

It was like he'd forgotten what happened two seconds ago. Like the shards of glass lying in front of his wall had always been there, and were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Okay, that's fucking it.", you scoffed, shouldering past him on your way out. You'd hoped he wouldn't stop you, but you'd known he would.

"No."

Okay, you'd expected 'wait', or something nicer.

"Shut up, Nate, don't push me."

"You're bleeding. The corner store doesn't have first-aid. I do."

He said it like that was the answer to everything. That you should never have any more questions about his actions.

You let him lead you back to the bed, the silence gnawing at you both. He seemed more than happy to let it devour him whole, seeing as he was tight-lipped and disinterested, almost, when he turned on the light in his bathroom, foraging around for his first-aid kit, or whatever.

He looked like he was about to go batshit for a second time that night, the frantic manner in which he was throwing stuff off his counter to find it, yanking the drawers open so forcefully they'd scream if they could.

Luckily, though, he found the damn thing, tossing it to you from where he stood. Catching it, you opened the box, wordlessly rummaging through for cotton or band-aids or something to keep your hand and eyes - and most importantly, mind - busy.

The cotton sitting nervously in your hand, you took tentative steps into the bathroom, wisely keeping your distance from Nate, who stood still, ruminating on something with one hand still on the drawer's handle.

You stood in front of the mirror.

The mirror lied to you. It always has, always will. Your damage looked minimal, but that was excluding the emotional one.

You looked away from your reflection's eyes to focus on the side of your forehead, and sometimes to your left, at the occassional huff that escaped him.

Mirror-you grimaced just like real-you, as you harshly rubbed at the skin around your cut. So much red.

At this point, it was impossible to avoid your own eyes, those essentially vapid pools of numbness at this point. You didn't know what was going on, and lord knew if you'd understand it even if it was explained to you like a five year old.

Because it couldn't be real. You couldn't be standing right next to the guy who almost maybe blinded you, maybe even KILLED you, had the impact been angled differently.

Your pain only seemed to be getting exacerbated the more cotton you used up. The piece of glass you were trying to remove from your temple was stubborn, like the man who helped transform it from its shape to a shard.

When you finally did remove it, you were quick to try to put a stopper to the gushing blood coming out of it, but the way you did it had you wanting to scream in agony.

"What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to dab, not rub.", he muttered, sucking in his breath sharply as he slapped your hands away, seeming furious at you for not knowing what to do after you get impaled by a piece of broken glass. "The rubbing makes it worse."

His finger turned your jaw toward him, and he snatched the cotton from you before dabbing softly at and around the wound where the little refracting fragment of glass had sat before, and intact, unblemished skin had sat once before that.

Dutifully grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from the first aid box, he tilted it so that it would gently stain the cotton, before pressing it to your temple, shushing you softly as you winced.

Jovially traumatizing what you imagined to be every single cell in the wound, the antiseptic finally fizzled out, its effect no longer sharp and concentrated and debilitatingly painful.

"You're a mess." His voice was so cold, so unkind, so... detached.

You're one to talk.

"Are you going to say anything?" He sounded almost... bored.

You stayed silent. If he thought you were going to give him more things to throw shit at you over, he was sorely mistaken.

He sighed, his jaw ticking slightly. "Y/N."

Your eyes moved away from the mirror behind him and back to his.

He paused his lazy movements to look down at you, your eyes, specifically, before gently bending down so he was suddenly looking up at them.

What that was supposed to achieve was unclear, but what it did affect was your ability to look away.

"I want to hear your voice.", he informed, his eyes moving between yours.

Like a bull craves the muleta.

Glancing down at him, you realized his eyes didn't match his tone. There was something almost dead about them.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Cuss me out, maybe? I don't know. I don't like the quiet."

"Why, 'cause it makes you think?", you scoffed.

"Yes, actually.", he replied, looking at you deadpan. "It does, and that's not really what I wanna do right now, okay?"

He wasn't bored, you realized. He was numb.

"Okay."

"So say something, damn it."

"About what?"

"Y/N. Listen to me when I'm talking to you. I don't give a shit. ANYTHING." He shook your shoulders as if that would cause you to spit out a good conversation in the aftermath of this night.

"Okay, uh... you promised me you'd listen to Queen with me."

He stared at you for a good while before his face softened, just enough for you to wonder if you'd imagined it, and then he frowned. "I did?"

"Yes."

"Then I will."

You nodded. "'Kay."

"Tell me about Queen."

"Look, man, I don't know-"

"Y/N.", he warned, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for a band-aid, eyes never leaving your wound.

"Jeez, fine. Uh, 'We Will Rock You'. 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. 'Another One Bites The Dust'."

"That was them?", he mused softly, the words dying out a little before they reached your ears, as he ripped the cover open with his teeth, then unwrapped the band-aid.

"Yes. Freddie Mercury's the lead singer."

"The one with the teeth?", he inquired, pressing slightly on the band-aid to ensure it stuck.

The sheer dichotomy of what he was doing - cleaning up a wound caused by him that might have killed you- and what he was saying - some quip about the lead singer of some '70's band he'd barely heard of - was astounding.

"Yup." You popped your p, hoping that would echo around the room and fill the silence for long enough that Nate wouldn't pester you to talk again, which was the last thing you felt like doing.

He gazed at your wound for a little while longer before nodding. "Done. Don't touch it for another week, maybe two."

"Okay."

"And I'll get you, like, a blanket or whatever, let me just put this shit back."

"A blanket?"

"Well, yeah. You don't get cold? What are you, superhuman?"

"I'm not staying here. I'm going home."

"Like hell you are.", he laughed dryly, opening his drawer and carefully placing the box back in before moving to the sink again. His hands moved quickly, squeezing paste onto his brush. "Not this late."

You looked down at your watch. "It's nine."

"It's late."

You snorted. "Thought you were the badass curfew-less one. Now you're freaking out about nine p.m?"

Why were you even still talking to this... thing in front of you? Why were you arguing with him? You could just fucking walk out.

He rolled his eyes, his toothbrush being as thorough as possible for a couple minutes before he spat it out, gargling and then turning to look at you. "It's late."

"I'm not spending the night, Nate."

"You a sleep-talker? 'Cause that's crazy shit.", he said, spitting out his mouthwash and wiping with the back of his hand, walking past you as he opened a cupboard, and tossed a heavy-looking duvet down at your feet.

"Nate, I'm not staying over!"

"But the really creepy ones are the sleep-walkers, I'm tellin' you.", he continued, shaking his head as he picked and chose two of his pillows and threw them at your feet, too. "My cousin, back when we were eight, I woke up and found him, like, banging his head on the door. Ouija board shit, bro, I'm tellin' you."

It was clear he was blatantly ignoring you, but what infuriated you the most was that he expected you to sleep on the same floor which was strewn with dangerous, nigh invisible shards of glass.

"Nate!"

"No, seriously, I don't care if it's like, a medical condition or whatever, they're like the fucking Conjuring movie, bro!", he declared, throwing his hands up as he distractedly moved to the other side of his bed, now, checking his phone. "You're not one of 'em, right?"

"You're such a fucking asshole, I'm leaving."

"If you step out that door, I will fucking kill you."

What unnerved you was that his eyes never moved from his phone. This was as casual as his reply to his Mom asking what he wanted for breakfast or something.

Saying he'd kill you was like saying 'pancakes with butter' to him.

"What?"

"I'm going to kill you if you leave." , he huffed, tiredly. And this time, it was clear he really was bored. Bored of the conversation, bored of your resistance, bored.

"You're fucked up."

"Look, sweetie, we've both had a long day-"

"Don't fucking call me that."

He let out a breathy snicker, nodding. Almost like he'd been wondering when you'd call him out on it.

"Fair. Look, bitch, we've both had a long day...", he corrected himself, with a self-satisfied grin, before continuing, "... and I'm not letting you drive home alone with a bleeding forehead."

"I thought you fixed it."

"With the way you're yelling right now, the blood vessel you're about to pop could rip the bandage from the inside out. Look- I- I can't deal with this shit, Y/N, okay? Not tonight. So shut up and close the fucking door."

"My family's expecting me home."

He raised a brow, as if you'd just said something so pathetic he almost felt sorry for you - like you'd just said you still fucking watched Disney Channel, or something. "They know you're here?"

"No." As if.

"Where do they think you are?"

Oh, he'd expected you to have told them you were with another friend. Sorry to disappoint, asshole, but some people aren't as prepared to stay over because their friend had a psycho family.

"I'd rather not talk about it - I don't like to recall my lies."

His eyes widened, and it looked like, for the first time that entire, painful night, he was actually amused, and fuck you for being so pathetic, but you were actually glad you'd mitigated the agony, at least a little bit. "They still think you're at your internship? You didn't tell them?"

"Tell them what? That some jock thinks touching me is his good luck charm, so he stalked me, found out where I worked, and cost me my entire internship by barging in?"

"Or you could've just said your boss was a perv, and you quit."

"He wasn't a perv."

"I'm a guy. I can tell."

Wow, way to dig at an entire gender's ability to perceive danger.

You shook your head, rubbing your forehead. "What is your problem, Nate?"

"I care too much."

You laughed loudly at that, and he looked too tired to even be mad. "I just don't like the thought of you driving home alone at night, okay? Simple as that."

"Then don't think the thought."

"You're staying."

"Like hell I am."

He groaned, putting his phone back down and rubbing his face as he walked towards the front of the bed - towards you. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to. Because my family-"

He rolled his eyes, reaching into your pocket and grabbing both your wrists to keep you from stopping him as he scrolled through your contacts - god, you had to get a fucking passcode.

"Maddy- no fucking way.", he mumbled, his thumb racing across the screen. "Cassie- one of Maddy's minions, so no- oh. Who's Lex?"

"Alexis."

"Oh, Alexis Howard? Lexi? She'll cover for you, right?"

"Not without telling Cassie. Now give me back my phone!"

"She won't tell Cassie. How's this? 'Lex, tell my family I'm sleeping over at yours, ok? Love you, xoxo!'", he read out, his voice attempting to mimic yours.

"Is that what you think girls talk like?"

"Yeah, with a scary amount of emojis."

"Misogynist."

"Badge of honour, baby. I'm sure Lexi, one of your best gal pals will cover for you."

Yes, of course, but that was besides the point.

"That's not the point-"

"The point is that you don't feel safe enough to fall asleep around me."

"What?"

"That hurts, sweetie."

"You know what else hurts?", you spat, pointing at the band-aid at your temple.

"It'll heal." He was still refusing to apologize.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

"Smash or pass, uh... McKay."

You almost laughed right then and there. "Smash."

"Really?"

You looked up at his ceiling, imagining him up on the bed, judging your smashability-scale.

"Yeah, why not?"

"You could never do it, you know? Realistically. You're not his type."

"Shut up. Smash or pass... Kat."

"Pass. Hard. Pass."

"Why?"

"I should say it's because she's close to Maddy, but you and I both know the real reason is 'cause she's so fucking ugly that-"

"Alright, shut up."

"See, this is the problem with you girls. Just agree. She's ugly."

"I don't think anyone's ugly. I think it's all action-based."

"God, then you must think I'm hideous."

He scoffed at the silence that followed. "Ouch."

"I don't think you're hideous, Nate. Just extremely unattractive."

"Superlatives, really? Y'know, whatever, I deserve it. Uh... smash or pass, Shane."

"Uh... pass."

"Why?" The glee in his voice was evident and mildly amusing.

"He cussed me out after I said the date wasn't going well."

The laughter that escaped Nate seemed to go on for hours on end. "In the middle of the restaurant?!"

"We weren't in a restaurant."

"Where were you guys?"

"He took me to a club or something."

Nate's face came into your peripheral view as he peered over the edge of the bed to face you. "On a first date."

You nodded. "Yup."

"The guy's both a fucking tool and a miserable little cunt. Anything other than a restaurant is fucking unacceptable for a first date."

"I know, even a bowling alley's fine, but a club is stupid, right? I mean, like, at the very least a café."

He nodded, his mouth curling down slightly. "Yeah, at least. Bare minimum."

It was uncomfortable, him looking down at you with pity the same night that his father had embarrassed him and cussed him out. Wasn't right. "Well, whatever. Smash or pass, uh... Rue."

"Rue Bennett? We got history, so, uh, I dunno."

"History?"

"A miscommunication during prom.", he told you, shrugging, but it was clearly something much more serious. "She's hot when she's off the drugs, I guess."

You rolled your eyes and he smiled.

"Hey, Y/N?" He didn't move back to his pillow, instead letting his arms dangle off the edge of the bed as he reached and toyed with a strand of your hair, glancing down at you. "I'll leave you alone after tonight, okay?"

"What?"

"Like, I- tonight? It was... bad. And I'm... I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm, I'm sorry. If you just, y'know, fist-bump me before every game, we'll be good. Okay? I won't bother you outside of that."

See, he said this, but his thumb kept returning to your lower lip every two seconds. You'd be a fool not to take this deal. But you'd be a liar if you said you remembered anything about life before Nate.

"Okay."

"You should get to sleep. It's two."

"What will you do?"

"Try to sleep.", he mumbled, his eyes moving away from you and towards the glass, which lay several feet away from you, on your left - almost like it was trying to reach your heart.

Your eyes followed his, and you sighed. "For the record, I don't want to fuck your dad."

"Yeah. I got that now."

"You gotta stop drinking, man."

He chuckled, nodding. "No. But thanks for the concern." Rolling back over, he left you staring at the ceiling once more, as if there were clues there as to the enigma that was Nate Jacobs.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

When you'd pulled up to your driveway the next morning - Sunday - it hit you that you were free of Nate forever. Last night, you'd have probably not known how to feel about that. This morning? Fucking elated.

You didn't even have to draw out a map, or take a single moment to think it over - every single problem in your life over the last month could be traced to him.

So fucking yay. Good riddance.

And the next day, Monday, you realized something.

School had never been so fucking fun.

Your classes started making more sense, seeing as you no longer had to look over your shoulder for some motherfucker who'd slit his own throat if you didn't go where he wanted. Fucking yay.

No, seriously. That's it. We're done here. No more Nate. End of story.

...

Ha.

So gullible.

----

Nights after Nate had always been the hardest.

Because you always found yourself losing your sanity and you knew that the only person who could even remotely get your mind off it was Nate himself.

Maybe that was his allure.

Hurting you then comforting you.

Making you cry then wiping the tears away.

But that night, he wasn't there with a blunt or tequila. Hell, you'd have even taken the gun. And you should've been ecstatic that he'd finally left you the hell alone, but at this point you had no clue what you were supposed to be feeling.

The only thing you could do was block him. Show him how mad you were. In your past experience, that didn't really matter to him, but you were running out of options.

And you probably shouldn't have done that, because you might have gotten a heads up about Tuesday.

════════════════════ ⋆ ♟️ ⋆ ══════════════════

You should've had your guard up as soon as you saw Nate walk into the school library that Tuesday afternoon, his eyes somehow darker than when he'd asked you to your face, no less, if you wanted to bang his father. You had no clue whether you had to hide or just keep doing what you did.

Flight or flight was fucking useless.

But your guard wasn't up, at least not immediately, because it was Nate. Because he may terrify you and almost kill you, but he'd never hurt you, because he just... worked differently. Things that may make someone psychopathic, he thought were normal. No biggie.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping he'd come back to further provoke you, because not-being-mad at him was kind of a grey area for you. It wasn't your usual state of being.

The moment your guard went up, though, was when Aaron walked in behind him. Hands in his pockets. Did he have a knife in there? Money? Or would he just flip you off?

You didn't want to find out, but it also didn't seem like you had much of a choice.

[thereallyreallylatebird]

From some of the discourse I've seen, I've gotten the impression that some people think intersectionality is like math. Let me explain.

Some people think of certain identities as universally giving privilege (we'll say these have a value of +1) and some as universally taking privileged/causing discrimination/bigotry/etc. (we'll say these have a value of -1).

And what I've seen is that people will add these values and decide how hard someone has it based on the value of the product.

For example: A white (+1) Christian (+1) gay (-1) man (+1) would have a score of 2, since 1+1-1+1 is 2. (Keep in mind I'm not saying people literally do this sort of math, though I have actually seen charts that do, it's more of a way of illustrating a way of thinking I've seen.)

The problem with this, of course, is that this isn't how the world works at all. Depending on where he lived and his situation in general, that white Christian gay man could be bullied severely, called slurs, or even beaten and killed--all things you wouldn't expect going off a score of 2--because intersectionality is not like math. And because, in some places, this man's gayness would overshadow all his other identities.

Also, this mathy way of looking at things fails to consider how identities interact with each other. For instance, (and this is something several of my mutuals, but especially @dysphoria-things, have discussed in the past) a trans man's identity as a man does *not* serve to "cancel out" his being trans in the eyes of society. First, many won't even view him as a man. Second, even if he is viewed as a man by a certain group, he still may be subject to less explicit forms of transphobia. Not to mention the expectation many hold that he perform his man-ness in order for them to keep seeing him as a man. There's a lot more to unpack here specifically, but the previously mentioned mutual has already done many many posts on this, and is more qualified to speak on this than I am as a cis person, so I suggest you go check that blog out if you want to hear more on this topic.

Another example would be one of *my* identity intersections. That of being aromantic and allosexual. Now, being allosexual (not asexual) is not a minority identity. However, it by no means "cancels-out" my aromanticism. In fact, the specific combination of this majority identity (allosexuality) with my aromanticism actually leads to some seriously nasty assumptions and stereotypes. Because what do you think goes through the majority of people's (especially conservative's) heads when they hear "Oh I'm attracted to people sexually, but not romantically." Nothing flattering.

Point is, intersectionality is not like math. Having a majority identity does not necessarily mean that identity will always be rewarded (especially depending on the combination with a minority identity), and also this way of thinking is one thing that can start people down the "oppression-olympics/who has it worst" route, which is helpful and productive to exactly no one. The world is complicated, society is complicated, and people are complicated. And anything boiled down this much is usually inaccurate enough to be useless or actively harmful. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk.

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Three -> Next Chapter

You sat on the edge of Gabriel’s bed, lacing your boots back up after your intimate time together and the pillow talk of getting caught up after it. You stood up and as your weight shifted off the bed you felt Gabriel’s hand come and reach out to rest on top of your own. You turned your head to look at him, he looked sleepy, his cheek pressed against the pillow and he had those pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Stay, please.”

“I wish I could.” You told him, grabbing his hand that is on top of yours and bringing it up to your lips and pressing a kiss on top of the back of it which made him chuckle as his cheeks flush pink. “But right now Gotham needs me, I need to do this.”

“You sound like Batman.”

“Please don’t say that…” You sighed and stood up from the bed completely, letting his hand fall from your grasp as you grabbed your mask from the nightstand and pressed it to your skin. You glanced back at him and smiled. “I… I’ll be back soon if it’s safe.”

“I could keep you safe.” “That’s my job now.” You smiled as you opened the window and you stepped onto the ledge. “I’ll love you.”

“And I adore you.” You jumped from the window after hearing his words, catching yourself midair with grappling onto a nearby building that is closer to the ground, fading from your partner’s sight. Gabriel sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling for a moment before sitting up and grabbing his robe on one of the bed posts and pulling it over his naked body and standing up out of bed and walking to his closet. He stepped inside his closet, flicking through his clothing before picking out a white dress shirt, black dress pants, blue tie, light blue vest, and a pair of black ankle boots. He laid out his clothing on his bed before walking to the bedroom door and cracking it slightly to call out to one of his family’s staff, a maid. “Marie, have the car ready in half an hour after I shower and get dressed.”

“Where should I have the driver take you, young master?”

“The Powers Club.”

“I will lay out your mask while you bathe, young master.”

“Thank you.”

_______________________

You sat on a ledge of a building that was very familiar to you, the headquarters of Wayne Enterprises, Wayne Tower, you thought it would be the last place your family would look if they were looking for you and it did give you a great vantage point of Gotham on this stop of your patrol. You yawned and leaned back, your weight resting on your arms as they rested on the cement rooftop beneath you. You probably have said no earlier to conserve your energy since you did not sleep well after your last patrol and your encounter with Talia and your emergency meeting, two hours or so, but you were so caught in the moment of seeing your old love again. 

“Being tired on the job isn’t a good thing, ya know what I mean?” You jumped and nearly screamed in sudden fright of hearing a voice from behind you, you turned your head about to see the familiar suit of Nightwing, your eldest brother, Dick Grayson. You had never even heard him land behind you but then again he had years more experience than you did. He smiled at you and held up his hands as if a silent sign that he came in peace. “Please don’t run, I just wanna talk.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Bludhaven or something?” You questioned Dick, or rather Nightwing, as he came and sat down next to you, his thigh only an inch or two away from touching your own. 

“Ya, but the old man called me up when Talia gave Robin the news last night, so I’ll be here for a while.” He replied to your question before leaning back on his hands, his arms supporting his weight, sitting like you were before he showed up and scared you. 

“By a while you actually mean when I am back in that house, the manor, right?” You asked your brother and he let out a disappointed sigh as if your words were a wrong or offensive answer to a question he never asked. “I’m never going back there, Nightwing.”

“It’s your home, we just want to see you safe.” He said, his hand coming to rest on your tight, just right above your knee. You felt yourself stiffen up at his touch, your shoulders rising and your head coming slouched down to hide between them, but unluckily for you, your elder brother caught onto your discomfort but still he did not move his hands. “I know you weren’t always happy, but we just want to keep you and mo-”

“She’s not your mom, your parents are dead, Dick.” You cut Dick off before he could finish his sentence which made him sigh yet again, but there was sorrow taking hold of him at your words, the hat in your voice that you buried in you for years. “...she’s my mom…”

“...not everything was bad, do you remember the good days?” You did not answer his question, your arms instead coming to wrap around yourself instead as you looking away from your big brother, instead looking down to the streets you were keeping watch over, and so was he. “You remember when you came to stay with me in Bludhaven for a few weeks? I think Haley likes you more than me, she would always sit by you in the living room and she would snuggle into your stomach at night because of how warm you were.”

“I remember you would make you sleep in your bed at night because you didn’t trust me not to run away because I was sent to stay with you as a punishment and some nights you forgot to turn on the AC after you got back from patrol that  when you held me I got so sweaty and hot some nights that I got a fever and you thought it was just a stomach bug in the morning.” You snapped back after his reminiscing of the good old days, or what he saw as the good old days but you saw as the years of hell. “Honestly if it wasn’t for you all I would probably be in university by now… maybe already graduated and have my own job, my own place, but my only two options were being stuck with you all or this and I prefer this cause at least I have the freedom to choose or myself instead of being tossed around like a doll.”

“I… I’m sorry you feel that way.” That’s all he had to say for his actions, that pissed you off, after everything they had put you through he apologized not for his own actions but for what you thought of it, what you felt. Dick’s hand reached up from your thigh, running up your suit with light as feather touches, up your abdomen, your chest, neck, jawling, cheek, and up to brush your hair out of your face. “Are… are you at least taken care of? Food, water, a place to sleep at night, well a safe place to sleep at night, or whenever you sleep that is? Your suit seems expensive, so I am guessing you have some funds, right? Not stolen money, right?”

“No, we have a sponsor, he looks after us, pays for what we need.” You answered Dick’s question which he silently nodded to, as if he was still processing something. “My friends and I have a safe place we found a few years back that we’ve fixed up, it’s not a lot but it’s a roof over our heads and it’s home… I think so anyway at the very least.”

“Right… just let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“I won’t-”

“Nightshade, do you copy?” Your answer to Dick’s question was interrupted by your commlink shouting in your ear with Foxglove on the other line. You forgot how loud you had it from when you were on your bike, Nightwing could probably hear your teammate’s voice on the other end of the line and you guessed he did from how he leaned in, his ear only inches from your own and the earpiece you wore yourself. You sighed and pressed the button on your wrist that turned your microphone on and off, you had still had it turned off from your time with Gabriel. 

“Nightshade here, what’s up?” you responded before grumbling and speaking up again before Foxglove responded. “Nightwing is here as well…”

“Oh… well I just got word from our contact in the GCPD that there has been a break in at their records hall, apparently there were a few case files stolen, ones that we had worked on them with. I think it might be linked to what you found out the other night.” You heard Foxglove explain and your eyes glanced at Dick’s face, his expression was completely changed, he was in Nightwing mode now/ “The cases were never fully solved, the string of murders of the Winston family two years back, the suspect was found but they were found dead as well. The other one was the assassination of that one private investigator we were working with last year at the southside docks. Our contact also told us that her grave was disturbed last night but they were sending a few cops to keep watch tonight. I got Nettle and Henbane heading down to the GCPD to meet with Commissioner Gordon to give him copies of the case file we have on base and I am having Clove covering their patrol routes, I need you to check out the cemetery, make sure nothing comes by and if you are able to check out the surrounding area, look for any leads that out potential grave robber might have left behind. I’ll also send the autopsy report to you in case you need it, just take a look at it during your watch.”

“Got it, heading out now.” You replied as you stood up from the ledge of Wayne Tower. You glanced over to Dick and he stood up as well which made you sigh and roll your eyes. “And I also believe Nightwing will be joining me on this.”

“Alright… noted, stay safe.”

“I will, Nightshade out.” you pressed the button on your wrist again, turning your microphone off. You glanced at Nightwing and sighed with a shake of your head. “Just… just don’t get in my way.”

“I’ll just be your guardian angel in all of this- Hey, w-wait up!” You jumped off the ledge before he could finish his sentence and you grappled onto a lower building, pulling yourself down to a lower elevation like you did earlier, You landed on the other rooftop, running towards the edge of that rooftop that was on the side of an alleyway where your bike was hidden, you heard Dick’s footsteps running closely behind you as you jumped off the ledge of that rooftop landing right next to your bike… and the Batcycle, a stupid name, but you now knew that Nightwing found your bike before he found you, probably a clue to where you were and how he found you. You sighed as you heard your big brother land behind you, you did not want to look at him right now, but he still placed a hand on your shoulder as he walked next to you. “I guess you’ll be my Robin, huh? Nightwing and Nightshade- or Songbird.”

“Shut up, Nightshade is a plant… just, be quiet.” You slapped his hand away before hopping on your bike, you heard the engine rev up beneath you as you turned the handle bars, speeding out the alleyway, leaving Nightwing behind you as he was just getting on his bike, silently praying you would end up leaving him in the dust.

As you drove down the streets, weaving through the few cars and trucks that were on the road at this late hour, you could see the light of the Batcycle in your rearview mirror, following closely behind you. You groaned and sped up, trying to lose him once again, taking tight turns as you turned onto different streets, trying to get onto the Robbins Bridge and shortcut your way through Bristol and up to the cemetery. You used to avoid missions uptown, it was too close to where you grew up after your golden childhood ended, you never wanted to go back there and get seen by any of your siblings or father. It honestly pissed you off that you did not tell your oldest brother to fuck off the moment you saw him behind you on the rooftop, but instead you let him talk and now you are stuck with him- god what if he followed you back to the warehouse after patrol, then everything could collapse and you could get dragged back to the manor house, that living hell hole. 

You merged onto the Robbins bridge, speeding down the road as you weaved in and out of traffic. You just needed to get to the cemetery, the last time you were there it was to deal with the Scarecrow, or otherwise known as Dr. Jonathan Crane who you met once or twice as a child when your mother visited Gotham University as a sponsor before she married into the Wayne Family, but-

Huh?

You noticed a black car speeding next to you, you probably pissed off a driver that did not like vigilantes but whatever, you just needed to- wait what? You turned your head to glance at the driver to make sure they were not actively trying to hurt you but your heart sank to your gut and your eyes went wide as you saw the driver wearing a mask, white mask with no human details, black eyes and a beak, an owl mask… 

The driver merged closer to you, the car driving in the middle of two lanes, pushing you towards the road border, threatening to push you into opposite traffic and crash you into oncoming traffic. You tried speeding up but then they would speed up, the car kept on getting dangerously close to you, so much so that the car clipped your bike’s mirror. You saw the sparks from the small collision and your eyes went wide as you turned from watching the driver to watching the road and  you did not even notice how close your bike got into oncoming traffic. Your eyes went wide as a car was heading right towards you, you felt like a deer in headlights as you turned your bike without a thought, trying to turn out of the way and not injure any civilians in the process, not realizing you were putting yourself in danger as your bike headed right towards the edge of the bridge until you felt the bike gone beneath you and you were being hurled off towards the seawater of the Upper Bay of Gotham. Your right leg really hurt, your right arm really hurt, they left warm as well, they did not feel broken, but clearly injured…

There was not a missing beat before you saw a flash which you recognized as Nightwing’s costume as he swung himself off of his own bike, a grapple line connecting him to the bridge as he rushed to your rescue, leaving his bike lost to the waters of the bay along with your own. You felt his free arm wrap around your torso which made you hiss out in pain for a reason you could not quite place your finger on in your dazed and panicked state. He pulled the line up mid swing, pulling you back up to the bridge and as soon as you felt the ground beneath your feet you felt your body collapse as if you could not support your weight which made you fall on your right side which already hurt but the added pressure made you scream out in pain. Nightwing knelt down beside you, picking your limp body up in a cradle as your vision began to blur and your body grew numb.

“Hey… we got an emergency on the Robbins bridge, be back soon, get medical prepared.”

…Everything blurred out to black…

[catboybiologist]

Alright. We need to talk about screenshotting my posts and putting them on other sites.

tl;dr: feel free to screenshot and spread my posts, but if you do so or see someone else doing so, please let me know. Either tag me (same username on youtube and reddit) or send me a link here.

Reasoning/why I'm saying this now under the cut.

Recently, I've noticed increase in the number of my posts that have made it to the subreddit r/curatedtumblr. This subreddit is a bit of a gateway to tiktok, youtube, and any other site that reposts tumblr screenshots - usually, AI video voiceover videos use the exact screenshots that were posted to reddit first, so usually r/curatedtumblr is the first "leak" of a post having reach outside of tumblr itself.

Now.

Most of the time, I don't have a problem with this. I even like it when random stuff I say has a reach beyond my usual community, and maybe even has a chance to resonate with someone that wouldn't have seen it otherwise. I don't know which one of my posts are going to resonate with other communities and other people, so I also don't want the only way for a an idea of mine to make it to another platform to be me manually posting that idea there myself. curatedtumblr has a blacklist of blogs who do not want to be post to that subreddit, but for this reason, I don't necessarily want to add myself to this blacklist. And of course, most of the time what gets reposted is a random shitpost, so its not a big deal.

However. Occasionally, a post of mine that is political, or has a deeper discussion associated with it, or something along those lines, is reposted elsewhere. And well, things can get very weird. Discussion can go in directions that I can't control, context can be added or removed that completely alters my point, and I can start to attract hate from people without even knowing it. And when this happens, it tends to spill back to me. When my posts make it to other platforms, its pretty normal to get a slight uptick in hate, or even just people finding that post and adding their own misinterpretation or discussion that happened 100% without me knowing. Being looped into the conversation, or even being able to see what kind of

A frustrating, but ultimately harmless example, is the "peak androgyny gandalf big naturals" post. I added context to that to clarify the way I was making fun of societal standards of androgyny as a whole, when the post instead seemed to be interpreted as the "correct" way to be nonbinary, which was not my intention at all.

I found the post on reddit, posted my own screenshots with the context I added, and was able to participate in the conversation, which helped a lot! But, the original, contextless post was up long enough that it pretty much solidified that misinterpretation as the main way people read that post.

I considered posting something like this then, but again, its ultimately harmless. I would've liked to participate in the reddit discussion earlier, but no biggie. So I didn't mention anything then.

Today, I opened reddit and saw this:

That title is not mine. It was added by the person who posted it to curatedtumblr. I've since had a respectful conversation with u/Hummerous, and they agreed to take the post down. 0 hate to them, again, they were respectful, and I'm screenshotting their username with permission.

This reads as a call for violence. Specifically, it reads as a call for violence that I am saying, and was attributed to me without my knowledge or consent.

This was not the intention of the original post. I was specifically referring to social ostricization, deplatforming, and anger responses, which are the forms of "silencing" that conservatives typically complain about.

Look. Responsible left wing gun ownership is something I support. Calls to extreme action are sometimes warranted. However, I am not qualified to comment on these, encourage them, or communicate about them. Communication of a specific topic is a skill. I do not possess that skill as it relates to guns or gun ownership. There are many, many other activists who do. Miscommunication can be dangerous. I want the most qualified and strongest voices to communicate properly. For this issue, that is not me.

This post isn't even about gun ownership, but suddenly, I'm forced to comment on it. If it seems like I'm pussyfooting around the topic, then yeah, I am- because this post is a little fucking scary on my end, and escalates rhetoric against me and others around me. Again, without my knowledge or consent.

I saw this post and was able to request it be taken down. But by that time, it already had 1.2k upvotes and god knows how many people who had seen it. If I were tagged earlier, I could've asked for that earlier, and I would be a little less jumpy right now.

So please. PLEASE. If you see a post of mine on another platform, please either ping me on that platform or send me a link to that post via tumblr DMs.