#under the guise of women's rights no less

[butchstalinist]

---

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him. 

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to. 

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that. 

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks. 

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his. 

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone. 

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time. 

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying. 

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus. 

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun. 

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention. 

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics. 

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?” 

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face. 

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again. 

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again. 

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away. 

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance. 

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it. 

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker. 

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of. 

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight. 

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you. 

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after. 

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something. 

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks. 

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own. 

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this. 

Finally, an idea strikes. 

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before. 

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!” 

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. 

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile. 

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last. 

You regret everything.

[dearest-and-nearest]

Spoilers about Taash's questline under the cut and many angry words

So, she is basically 12 year old teenager in body of fucking 20s girl. Oh, sorry "non-binary". She messes with Neve, who wears PANTS and unisex shirt, about her looks and that Taash doesn't want to wear dresses. And then there's shit like that

You can't call her out for shit like that. You can't be truly mean to her like you could to almost anyone in this series before. You could mock Alistair's hurt about Isolda's or Connor's death, but you cannot tell Taash that she's speaking shit. She is acting like being a woman is only wear dresses and act feminine and the worst? The game supports her in this. You can't tell her to shut up and that you don't care how poor little girl feels, you can only support and accept her.

And then she acts like "i don't want to act femminne, so i'm nonbinary" and that's offensive. It's misogynistic bullshit that relegates women to “dresses, makeup, pretty hair”. If you don't fit into that scheme, you're not a woman. You're trans, non-binary, whatever, but you're not a woman. And I find that kind of message misogynistic, yes. Because I happen to have short hair, pants in my closet, and “masculine” hobbies like video games and sports and stuff like that. And that does NOT make me less of a woman. And the very idea that if you're not feminine enough, you're not a woman is insulting.

And this game itself is constantly misogynistic. It doesn't let you create a woman with feminine proportions and big breasts in the editor. At best you'll have an androgynous character, at worst a man. I have zero problems with both categories, but I want to play as a WOMAN. A shapely, tall WOMAN, but for some reason now female breasts are offensive. They can't be added to the editor in sizes larger than B, and even characters who had them have lost them (like Isabela).

Speaking of which. She's in her 50s and yet she looks the same as she did 20 years ago in da2. Because again, you can't get old, you can't be “ugly” with not long enough hair and a pretty face, otherwise you're anything but a woman. And yes, it makes me angry. It makes me angry that under the guise of “progressivism” the erasure of women, the erasure of femininity and diversity and the replacement of that with “non-binary” and “trans” and whatever else is being promoted. Because even the topic with Taash's non-binarity could have been pitched any number of other ways, but Weeks chose to write the dialogs that way. You could have tried and created normal different models, but Busche decided to approve what they had.

I don't know who this game is aimed at. For kids there's sex, for adults there's too much dumb dialog and “Taash doesn't like skeletons” level conflicts. For right-wingers, there's too many pronouns and stuff like that, for progressives, there's this misogyny bullshit. I sincerely hope it fails, because otherwise we're in for more games like this. Games that restrict roleplay, cut gameplay, but feed you “nobody likes being a woman” bullshit that you can't even complain about. Bad games, made in a rush by lazy and untalented people, that try to sell under the sign of “progressive” when in fact the only progressive thing here is how developers economize on anything but what they should.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Sanji and Zoro hardly get along, requring a lot of effort to keep things civil between them. But when it's revealed that they've both set their eyes on the same girl, their rivalry might just get out of hand.]

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If Sanji was a different man, maybe he'd feel a bit embarrassed about his little habit. Maybe he'd question whether intensely staring at his crewmate from afar is appropriate.

However, he is who he is, so Sanji just silently smokes his cigarette all the while watching you discuss something with Nami. You're telling her something that must have really moved you - there's a plethora of emotions on your face and your hands are all over the place gesturing. The cook chuckles to himself. You're cute when you're excited.

Then, something stings inside his chest. What does Sanji have to do to become your confidant? To be the person you run to whenever you need an ear to listen? His suave words and rivers of compliments have worked perfectly so far but it seems like he's come to some plateau. Lingering touches, less than ambiguous remarks, favors and gifts... And yet you're not any more inclined to throw yourself at him than you were a month ago.

"Don't bother, waiter." he hears a voice behind him.

Sanji almost chokes on the cigarette smoke. He wasn't expecting anyone to catch him red-handed, much less for that person to be Roronoa Zoro - the only one who would spill his little secret just to get under his skin.

But Zoro's willingness to get under the cook's skin goes a lot deeper, at least in Sanji's mind. He's not oblivious to the swordsman's prying eyes that follow you and the compliance with which he succumbs to your every whim, even if he tries to appear annoyed.

Sanji feels his skin burn as he watches you move around in a short skirt. As though he's under a curse or stared the Basilisk straight in the eye, he can't look away. You've asked Nami to cut the material down, not being a fan of the way you looked in a knee-length skirt. It wasn't bad, just a little awkward.

Now you're standing in front of Nami, turning around and walking in place so she can see if everything's the way you wanted. The ginger girl keeps grabbing the hem of the skirt, folding it upwards to see if the seams are right.

Then a few floorboards creak as someone else approaches the scene.

"What do you think, Zoro?" you ask in a thrilled voice. Maybe if Sanji made his presence known, you'd ask him too. Then he could gawk at you all he wanted, up close, under the guise of 'making judgment'.

"It's fine," he answers with apparent disinterest.

Zoro walks past you and Nami. Sanji closely watches him, sounding out whether the swordsman has noticed him and whether he's willing to tell on the cook. Then, to his horror, Zoro glances over his shoulder, returning his attention to you. He looks you up and down, a little too slow to be considered innocent. Zoro licks his lips.

The swordsman turns again, meeting Sanji's seething stare. A mocking half-grin enters Zoro's face. He bumps his shoulder into the cook's as he goes past him. They don't exchange any words but their strife couldn't be more clear.

"If you think you can talk me into giving up on her, you're more of an idiot than I thought," Sanji retorts. He's willing to physically fight Zoro if things come down to that. Then, should the universe bless him, you'd take care of his wounds with your tender touch.

Zoro snorts. "I'm just sayin' there's no way she'd go for you. You smell like dishrags and salivate over any girl with a pulse."

Sanji takes the cigarette out of his mouth. He chuckles, both out of anger and disbelief. "If you spent as much time with women as you do staring at your swords, maybe you'd learn that brooding and vaguely threatening stares are hardly attractive, moss-head."

"You don't know anything about her, new guy," Zoro drones out. His low tone sounds like a warning.

The swordsman's irritation is like music to Sanji's ears. A mischievous smile appears on his face. "I've spent enough nights with her to know what she likes."

Roronoa slightly raises his eyebrows. Sanji almost believes that he surprised Zoro but the expression of the dark, brown eyes is nothing if not malicious. "So that's where she is when she's not warming my bed?"

A tense silence falls between them. They stare at each other like goaded bulls, ready to gore their horns through the other man. Their crescendo almost comes to a violent climax when something distracts both of them:

Nami and you burst into wholehearted laughter, tears streaming down your faces. Shouts of 'No way!' are cut into syllables by chuckles.

Both Sanji and Zoro let out a lovesick sigh. Immediately, they turn to glare at their rival. There, as silence remains between them and their hearts are filled with your laughter, the two men take up the rivalry, knowing that they're equally too stubborn to give up until either of them wins.

[b1ackoutartist]

Wrapped

The soft lullaby hummed through the small apartment, a gentle tune breaking the silence of the night. Natasha Romanoff, once a feared and respected CEO, was now frequently found dozing off on the nursery floor, fingers entwined with those of her baby son, Alex.

The dining room was exquisitely decorated. Soft chandeliers, glinting silverware, and crisp tablecloths laid the foundation for a perfect family dinner. But there was an unmistakable tension in the air, more palpable than the rich aroma of food that wafted through the room.

Y/N gently cradled baby Alex, who cooed and drooled, blissfully unaware of the strained dynamics around the table. On one side was Melina, her icy gaze focused primarily on Y/N, occasionally darting to the baby. Opposite her sat Alexei, a silent observer, while Yelena played peek-a-boo with baby Alex, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N attempted small talk. "Melina, this roast looks delicious."

Ignoring the compliment, Melina quipped, "Isn't it a bit too early for Alex to be teething, dear?"

Y/N's face flushed. "Every baby is different. The pediatrician said it's normal."

"It's just that when Natasha was a baby," Melina began, her voice dripping with passive aggression, "she followed every milestone to the letter. And Yelena, too."

Yelena rolled her eyes, shooting Y/N a sympathetic look. "Mama, can we not do this tonight?"

But Melina continued, "Natasha has a lot on her plate as a CEO, and I don’t think she needs more stress. Perhaps if you focused more on understanding the baby and less on whatever you've been doing..."

Y/N’s grip tightened around Alex. "I'm doing my best, Melina."

Natasha clenched her fist. "Mother, enough!"

Alexei tried to lighten the atmosphere, sharing an old anecdote from Natasha’s childhood. But Melina’s criticisms, veiled under the guise of 'advice', continued. They stung Y/N, the insecurities she tried so hard to bury resurfacing with each jab.

Y/N tried to focus on Alex, feeding and playing with him, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Yelena slid closer to Y/N. "Ignore her," she whispered. "You're doing great. And Nat thinks so too."

Just then, Alex wailed, startling everyone. Y/N tried to soothe him, but Melina's sharp voice cut through, "Do you even know how to hold him right?"

That was the last straw for Natasha. Standing up, she addressed her mother coldly, "Can I talk to you? Outside."

The room was silent as the two women left. Alexei sighed heavily, turning his attention to his food, while Yelena tried to comfort the shaken Y/N.

Outside, Natasha and Melina stood facing each other, the night air charged with tension.

"I won’t let you belittle Y/N any longer," Natasha started, her voice stern and unwavering.

"She's not right for you," Melina retorted, "She's keeping you from your responsibilities. She doesn’t even know how to raise Alex properly."

"You don't get to decide that. She’s an amazing mother, and I love her," Natasha countered, "If you can't respect that, then you won’t see Alex or me again."

Melina's eyes widened in disbelief. "You'd choose her over your own family?"

"I am choosing my family. Y/N and Alex are my family. And if you can’t accept that, then you’re pushing us away, not the other way around."

The weight of Natasha’s words hung heavy in the air. Melina looked away, struggling to find words.

The weight of Natasha’s words hung heavy in the air. Melina looked away, struggling to find words. The two women stood in silence, the cool night breeze whipping around them, carrying with it an air of finality.

After a few minutes, Natasha turned on her heels and walked back inside. The atmosphere in the dining room was thick, and everyone turned their attention to her as she entered. Without saying a word, she took baby Alex from Y/N's arms. "Get your things," she instructed gently but firmly, "We're leaving."

Y/N nodded, her eyes misting over with tears, yet she felt a strange sense of relief. She stood up, her movement drawing Yelena's attention. The younger woman approached her, whispering, "I'll come by tomorrow, okay? Just take care of yourself and Alex."

As Y/N moved to gather their things, Alexei tried to mediate. He stood, approaching his red-headed daughter. "Natasha, stay. Let's talk this out."

Natasha looked at him, her green eyes icy and resolute. "I appreciate it, but there’s nothing more to say. I won't let anyone disrespect my family."

The old bear of a man looked saddened. "Just remember this is your home. Always."

Natasha offered him a weak smile, appreciating his sentiment but knowing that tonight, leaving was the right choice. She adjusted baby Alex in her arms, feeling his little heartbeat against her. The weight of her son was grounding, a constant reminder of what mattered most.

With Y/N by her side, and their belongings in hand, they made their way to the door. The house that was once filled with laughter and joy seemed cold and unwelcoming. But as the door closed behind them, they knew they were stepping into a new chapter, one where they could create a loving environment for Alex and themselves.

Yelena and Alexei watched them go, a mix of sadness and understanding in their eyes. Melina, still outside, heard the car start and drive off. She leaned against the wall, a wave of regret washing over her. The realization that she might have lost her daughter and grandson because of her stubbornness weighed heavy on her heart.

[syntheticavenger]

Hi Synth,

What drew Lloyd to the reader in Thanks for the Invite universe?

Was it because his ex-wife hid her (the reader) and this sparked a curiosity in Lloyd?

Was it because he already knew about the reader before he got married for the first time?

Was it an ego boost for Lloyd proving himself and others that he can do whatever he want, consequences be damned?

Did the reader's shy and timid nature play a part? Does Lloyd strictly feel an ownership over her or is he fascinated by her?

Sorry for the barrage of questions.

I'll answer it this way.

Cordially Invited

Lloyd Hansen x Female Reader

Word Count: 780

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, mentions of divorce, stalking, cheating (not on the Reader).

Summary | You've always had a standing invitation.

He loathes her friends.

Friends is a word Lloyd uses loosely, seeing them flock to Alexis like birds, their voices that raise an octave to ensure they make her feel like she is gracing them with her divine presence. A quick headcount tells him that one of her usual devotees is missing.

It isn’t a coincidence. Anytime there is an event at the house or wherever he is, there is always one missing.

Not that he doesn’t know your name of course. He’s intercepted the birthday gifts at the door, your name carefully signed with a heartfelt message. None of her other cronies have the thoughtfulness to give her a gift, to show their actions are as legitimate as the price tags they hide under their designer dresses they return after Alexis’ events.

She doesn’t deserve your sweetness, your compassion and your money. You, who nearly maxes out her credit card to fit in with the same women who make even less than you do. 

Curiosity of why Alexis would hide you got the better of him, a little research sending him right to your places of employment, juggling two jobs to stay afloat. You aren’t flashy, most of your clothes from secondhand stores and low budget retailers.  It’s refreshing to see you focus on your work instead of a luxury handbag, like Alexis, who has so many that she has her own space in their massive walk-in closet. 

It's easy to walk into your place of employment, ask some questions about you under the guise of giving you a compliment. It materializes on your HR file, under a name that isn’t his own, your co-workers more than happy to divulge little intimate details about you, like how you never forget a birthday, your favorite color is black because it pairs well with so many things and that you have a penchant for classical music. Little things he stores away in his brain for later, especially as Alexis begins to craft her annual party.

Her purposeful oversight is why Lloyd had mailed you an invitation to their wedding himself. There was no secret that she harbored some sort of jealousy over you, the way she would say your name with resentment, opting to change the subject when one of her friends would bring you up. You don’t come from money, therefore you know the value of a dollar and what it means to have a little extra left over at the end of the month.

Gratitude is what he likes about you most of all.

Not to mention how good you had smelled when you walked right past him in the bookstore, unaware that he had been watching you. When he had said his vows, he thought of you, how you’d look in your own wedding dress. In his mind, you wouldn’t have a beach wedding. Something much more formal, something traditional that complimented his own sensibilities.

In his thoughts, you would be married to him.

-

Alexis’ mascara is ruined, her dramatic sniffling making him slam his hand on the table.

“Can someone please shut her up?” he asks to the group of lawyers, one of which whisks her away despite her shouts of anger. “For fuck’s sake.”

Pictures of her affairs still litter the table, Alexis in the throes of an orgasm from the twenty-two year old swim instructor, another with the personal chef.

He doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t care because he didn’t love her and marriage, especially to him, was something that was fleeting. People have second, third – sixth – marriages. What is one to a woman who hid a diamond from him so she could continue her façade?

One that get nothing from him, the embarrassment of knowing she had been unfaithful first, the pictures sent to her so-called friends that also hid the sordid details from him.

Like he didn’t already know, like he didn’t purposefully leave the house and bribe them to see if she would cave to their advances.

There was always going to be an exit strategy. 

It just so happened to be between Alexis’ thighs.

Not that it would matter. There was a light at the end of this waste of time of a marriage, one that he saw in the flesh when you’d come into the house in that dress that you would soon be out of within hours.

He’d already picked out the ring you’d liked that you would stare at when you’d walk past the jewelry store.

He always gets the best of the best.

In time, you’ll understand why you didn’t have a choice.

After all, you’ve been cordially invited to be his for the rest of your life.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

„but what about the health and mental ramifications of abortion“ what about the health and mental ramifications of birth bro?! what are you talking about. a legal abortion conducted by a health professional is a LOT less invasive and consequential than even a pregnancy and birth with no complications. you literally create another human with your body for nine months while abortion is just removing some cells. and for the mental toll, postpartum depression and even psychosis are not uncommon, and one leading cause for infanticide at the hands of women.

„what if she regrets the abortion“ what if she regrets having a child lmao? which is not unlikely if she wanted an abortion in the first place. it means that for whatever reason, she is not in a situation to have one. forcing women to birth a child they dont want or cant take care of for whatever reason is protecting children how exactly? and the adoption and foster system would have to be fundamentally restructured before presenting this as an alternative to abortion.

being against legal abortion to protect hypothetical children is an attempt to control womens bodies and reproduction under the guise of protecting children. why dont you focus your efforts on the rights and wellbeing of children that actually exist?

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 34)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (32)

Masterlist (other parts here)

That was not what she’d expected at all. YFN had done her research and put her own puzzle pieces together, though her theory had missed the mark by a significant amount.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

YFN couldn’t even close her mouth.

She walked closer, lightly treading with elegance as if to not scare her away. When she was close, her eyes lingered on the scar cutting her eyebrow with empathy.

YFN managed to find herself and cleared her throat. “Your misdirection was very believable.”

“I was worried the voice would give it away.” She said almost shyly. Her voice was more regal now, less…common? Clever.

YFN’s relief must have been clear, and she didn’t realise herself just how worried she’d been. “And my misdirection was not entirely untrue…” She gestured around her. “This is her house.”

They were standing in the house of JK Rowling. The woman she’d assumed she was meeting. It all made sense, didn’t it? Joe. Lumos. When she’d originally started researching the company, she’d come across the other Lumos, the charity founded by Joe. Though, she made sure to not hold any assumptions going into their meeting.

“Why her?” She asked, knowing it was a little rude to do so. “Why hide behind someone the public hates so vehemently?”

“I needed someone with power, someone rich, someone people could believe had the capabilities of doing so.”

“So Lumos is a branch of her company?”

“No…it’s my company, my money. I spoke to Joe about the idea of using her as a bit of an alias, as well as using the same name as her charity.”

“But…why hide at all?” She really didn’t understand. She was wealthy, powerful and beyond all else… “People adore you.”

“I thought about it, trust me. But how would that look, having me try to lift the women’s game? It would look like a publicity stunt, like they needed me when they don’t. I need them to show that they can do it themselves. They have the motivation, the will, the support and now they have you. At least, I still hope they do?”

YFN was fully aware now that up until this point, she’d been disillusioned as to the identity of ‘Joe’, right down to the reason that she’d chosen her. She was a writer. Exactly what Joe herself would have done. This was a better scenario, though the fact that her guise was the infamous author would not be well received. She didn’t try to understand the complexities of it all. Looking beyond all of that, she knew that the person she’d spoken to on the phone was genuinely passionate. Caring. Hard-working. She understood that she had been a victim of her title and knew deep down that they could accomplish incredible things together.

“They still do...”

“Tea is prepared in the estate room, ma’am.” Benjamin interrupted politely.

“There’s hot chocolate too, YFN.” She promised with a lovely smile that begged to be photographed.

How did she know?

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Cath, please. Only the media calls me Kate.”

“Did you ever have any intention of meeting me?”

To her credit, Catherine was very similar the person she was presented as in public, however the more time they spent together, the more liberated she became with her thoughts. YFN realised how much of a burden it must have been, stuck under the thumb of royal obligation and public expectation, though in this room, there were just the two of them.

“No,” she allowed herself a little smirk as she took a sip of tea. “No, my intention was most definitely to stay invisible in this. And besides you, I plan to keep it that way.”

“You’re not worried about Mark?”

“I knew that hiding behind Joe would mean the possibility of people assuming she was directing this, and furthermore that she would have enemies try to pull her down. She did warn me about Mark. He’s…persistent.”

“A business rival I’m assuming?”

“I believe Joe managed to ruffle his feathers a little with a business deal a few years back. She said he’s forever since been adamant to undermine her achievements, and to make matters worse, he doesn’t care that Lumos is a charity. See, I originally assumed we’d be safe if I created a company with the same name, because who would attack a charity? As it turns out, Mark would.”

“And I’m guessing the idea of you having a personal conversation with him to quietly nip this in the bud is out of the question?”

“Indubitably.”

YFN bit her lip as she thought about the situation she found herself in. She wanted to ask if her husband knew, but knew it was the wrong question for the conversation. What Catherine was doing was separate from that. Separate from her life as a royal, as a mother, as a leader.

“No, William doesn’t know.”

YFN’s eyes shot up to find Catherine’s. David wasn’t wrong, she was intelligent. She had those rare gifts of intrapersonal and interpersonal intelligence, the types that YFN felt she also had; the ability to truly understand herself and other people. It was perfect for Catherine’s main role, really.

“A personal project then?”

“Of sorts.”

“With…very high ambitions?”

“Yes.”

The conversation was quick witted and much more was being said in the words they didn’t vocalise.

“I’m Australian, so forgive my lack of knowledge…but I wasn’t aware you were so passionate about football?”

“It does tend to be William’s passion more than mine, however I do love sport. And while football may not be my favourite, it is England’s favourite, and it’s where the change needs to happen first.”

First? Her eyebrows raised. “You plan on expanding Lumos to other sports?”

“Gradually, yes. The focus begins on all things football and will grow to encapsulate all female sport.”

“Not male sports?”

“Potentially in the future, if we ever reach equivalence, however that is not my intention. My main goal is to focus on the female perspective. I find sport to be one of the largest places of gender inequality and male dominance. It’s going to be a tough field to make change.”

YFN couldn't help but feel that her choice of JK Rowling as a hidden alias was detrimental to her success. Catherine read her thoughts again, she seemed to be good at that.

“Joe…is a friend. I’m unsure of your opinion in the matter but I don’t agree with her opinions and I did think that using her would only be of benefit to her if people had dug deep enough to assume she was behind it. “

She wanted the best for Joe, even at the sacrifice of a little face. Even after her controversial opinions. The admiration must have been written on her face from Catherine’s returning look.

“And Joe did also help me choose you.”

“That explains a query of mine. I’m a writer, first and foremost.”

“Please don’t think that I only chose you because it’s what Joe would have done. It’s not. I looked into you and your work meticulously. It took me a long time to find you, and it wasn’t just for your work as a writer. It was the way you interviewed people, the way you approach questioning, your ability to be both affable and determined. You know exactly what you want, and how to get it without sacrificing the comfortability of the people you speak to.”

It was the nicest compliment she’d ever received, and she felt herself blushing a little. Catherine put down her tea.

“Also, I found some of your photography. I understand you moved away from it and over to the publication side of your previous workplace. Photography happens to be a passion of mine. I believe it to be an important artform, and it did motivate me towards pursuing this project. Without it, I wouldn’t be here with you. I’d be off with the other duties that are required of me.”

Catherine had studied Art History, if YFN remembered correctly. It began making even more sense.

“What…is the timeline you had in mind?”

“The only timeline I’ve considered so far is that of football. I want us to have coverage of all of it by the end of next year. I hope that it’s a fully run operation by then, and we can expand into tennis and cricket.”

The hot chocolate did its job then and YFN yawned so hard, she worried she was being rude.

Catherine gave a polite chuckle.

“It’s getting late. We have a few days to talk this over more, Joe is in the US for another week, and I’ve managed to wriggle out of some royal engagements for the next few days. Shall we pick it up tomorrow?”

Things had begun to come even more into focus the next day after they’d spoken a little more. It was her passion project, and one that YFN felt honoured to be a part of. The only people who were aware of it were her Lumos management, Joe, several staff, and now YFN. Catherine’s management team for Lumos was kept small and tight, and their main jobs were not limited to networking throughout the sports, optimising their business and even planning for the future of the company.

In the early morning, they’d all taken a meeting together in the conference room on Zoom. As the meeting began, YFN was surprised to see a few of the individuals had been people she’d met at the charity event. Catherine really did have people everywhere.

“It’s a good thing that it became a necessity to meet.” Catherine admitted. “I think now that we know each other better and you can fully see our goals, we’re going to benefit from it.”

YFN agreed with that. And now that she realised just how much influence, wealth and power were behind the company, her confidence grew as well as her appetite for more.

The meeting went for hours with so many points of business that YFN didn’t really understand. Luckily, they hadn’t expected her to, as her focus was primarily on the actual product they were providing. She hadn’t realised just how much effort went into the secrecy of a company, or the background decisions, compromises, and discussions that she’d previously thought of as trivialities.

The money of course would be noticed by William who knew his wife had a passion project, but didn’t know what. It was her baby. The way she led her group made that very, very clear, and although she wasn’t used to running a company, she was so well-read and had educated herself so well that she wasn’t just a figurehead, she was leading them and not afraid to ask questions to the more experienced businesspeople.

The meeting became interesting when the team unanimously agreed on the expansion of the employees after their successful first round and had already had many candidates lined up which they filtered through together. Catherine encouraged YFN to get involved in that as she actually worked on the ground with them and managed them.

Following that, management went back onto other business details and Catherine used the opportunity to give YFN a phone very similar to her own, and it was purely set up to work with her and the management team. No wonder why she’d always been so quick at replying and holding that boundary between Lumos and her other duties, she’d had an entirely separate phone for it.

With the need for more people, came the eventual agreement for an office space. London made sense as it was central, and most games would be there. They’d already acquired the space and were just waiting for the final go-ahead which Catherine gave that approval for. YFN was grateful that the discussions moved onto design and architecture, furniture and parking which gave her the perfect opportunity to decide how to use the multiple sets of cutlery with her different lunch dishes.

Catherine had laughed at that, and it was warming to see her so relaxed outside of the public eye.

Listening to them talk about the office, she was pleased to see that it wasn’t too far from Lucy’s apartment, knowing it would be convenient, though she knew it would be best for her to stay central in Birmingham for the meantime, just until they became a lot busier. She could deal with the drive until then. Besides, she wondered if Leah and Jordan would be back together anyways. Thinking of that, she messaged Jordan.

YFN: Where's my update??

She was at training so didn’t expect a response until that night, however.

“…background checks.”

YFN’s head shot up. They were talking about background checks for the employees they were deciding on. She wondered how in depth they would be and didn’t have to wonder for long as they began to discuss them in depth. Her eyes widened knowing that they must have done the exact same for her. Catherine noticed that.

“It’s standard procedure, I’m sure you can understand.”

She nodded. Of course, she could understand. They wouldn’t let anyone sit next to or run a business with the future Queen of England.

The day dragged on, though Catherine had made sure they all had several breaks and took the time to show YFN around Joe’s property. It truly was beautiful, yet she couldn’t miss the amount of security who were wandering around the estate, a few with their eyes on the pair.

“Can you…understand why I’m wanting to stay a silent figure in all of this?” She asked gently as they wandered through the garden. It was actually a day of decent weather, the sun poking through the clouds.

“I can, and I respect it. I’m also glad we’ve met. Everything makes much more sense now.”

“Fantastic. Now I know we’ve already agreed to keep this between just us, however there’s Lucy, correct?”

YFN nodded. She didn’t like the idea of keeping anything from her.

Catherine stopped and turned to her, taking her hands gently. She was taller than the little Australian of course, even more so with heels. “YFN…I know what it’s like to have to keep secrets. It’s not fun. I’ve seen it tear relationships and families apart…”

They way she held her eyes and spoke was so… motherly. So royal-like. Beyond that, she could see the pain in her eyes and she wondered just how much this woman had been through.

“I’m okay with you telling Lucy. I don't want your relationship to be affected, and I trust your judgement, but please stress to her to importance of secrecy. One leak and all that we’re trying to accomplish disappears.”

YFN relaxed a little. She could tell Lucy.

“Thank you, Cath. I really appreciate that.”

They were just settling down to dinner when Catherine was pulled aside for a phone call. Their meeting had ended shortly before that, YFN full up on information and motivation for the upcoming work she had to do. She worried a little about Barcelona.

Dory: We may have had sex. Then I cried and kicked her out at 10pm.

YFN choked on mashed potato. How had she managed to choke on the least chokeable form of potato?

YFN: What?!

Dory: When are you home?

Catherine walked back in then looking a little stressed and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, duty calls back in London. I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this trip short. You’re more than welcome to stay here another day...”

“That’s okay, I can leave tomorrow if that works.”

It did work. Catherine finished her dinner and left apologetically and this time, with a gentle, motherly hug and promises of a bright future working together. It was strange being left in the large house alone with just Benjamin and a few staff wandering around. Her phone buzzed and it was her flight change being emailed, a change to tomorrow morning. YFN checked in and then replied to Jordan.

YFN: I’ll be home midday tomorrow.

She pocketed her phone. Another buzz. She pulled it back out.

Lucy: Hi, little one. Can I call?

[reallyneedsalife]

I am so God damn tired.

I am tired, and I am angry.

Why cant people put down Harry Potter? why can't they step away from it? It's one fucking series!

I grew up on it, just like these people. I read my mothers copies of the books that she read while she was pregnant with me. I read Prisoner of Azkaban under the table in primary school when I was meant to be doing long division. I binged the movies, I went to the making of Harry Potter in London for my 11th birthday. We named our dog Harry.

Why cant others let go like I did?

It is one thing to preach "separate the art from the artist" but it doesn't fucking work when the artist says she's sees support for her work as support for her views. It doesn't fucking work.

It doesn't work when you pirate instead of pay, it doesn't work when you think "I'm just one person, my money isn't that much" it is.

If you aren't British shut the fuck up about how supporting her stuff "isn't supporting her views" it is. You aren't stuck living on the same god damned fucking island as her. You aren't here, worried every day you could wake up to BBC reporting your rights being taken away because of a lobby group she supports. You don't have to sit and watch as she funnels her millions into anti-trans groups and TERF lobby groups under the thinly veiled guise of "protecting women's rights" when you eject trans and cis women from your support because they arent gender conforming enough for you. You don't have to sit here and deal with the consequences of your fucking actions because SHE IS NOT YOUR THREAT.

JK ROWLING IS SCOTTISH TRANS PEOPLES THREAT. SHE IS ENGLISH TRANS PEOPLES THREAT SHE IS WELSH TRANS PEOPLES THREAT. SHE IS BRITISH TRANS PEOPLES THREAT.

spitting on my grave would be less disrespectful to me and so many others than giving that woman money and a voice and support.

so go ahead, spit on my grave. But don't come crying to us when they come for the lesbians or the bisexuals next, or your marriages or your adoption rights. don't you dare come crying to us when she turns her targets to you. you know how the poem goes.

[femmesandhoney]

Seeing all this stuff about low birth rates is frustrating. Regardless of whatever reason people give for not having children, it will always be about one thing.

Women. They say ‘young people’ they mean women.

Complaining about low birth rates is complaining that women aren’t walking wombs.

They’re not criticising men. And why would they? Men don’t carry the children. But they should be.

Men and the patriarchy are the main cause of every problem women cite when saying why they won’t have children (excluding the ones who don’t want any regardless of course). If men got their hands out of their trousers and used them for good, for change, then low birth rates would be a lot less. If they found their humanity and empathy then the world would be a lot better for everyone.

‘Low birth rates’ is just a criticism of women exercising their right to bodily autonomy.

Remember when South Korea's government put out an official map of the number of fertile age women in each district (sorry if thats not the right word) because they thought it would promote "friendly competition" (of birthing babies...) between districts and it got pulled within like the first day because of immediate outcry. The state views women as baby makers and carriers. That is all the state sees us for everywhere in the damn world and it kills me inside every time.

It's also notable that when women gain rights and status within a society, the average age of marriage goes up (and BR goes down), as more women prioritize education and work. A good thing! An amazing thing for the health and wellness of a society in fact, to have half of its population educated. Except this is bad actually bc educated women learn civic skills, they learn history, they learn to read and write, they learn all sorts, and they learn to oppose a system that keeps them down and thats very bad for the men in charge 😣

It's also why you see big pushes rn in tradfem spaces to keep women from going to college, bc the more a person in general goes thru college and completes a bachelors, they more they believe women are oppressed and that we need feminism. They really want women to give up in life and return to the home and be homemakers again w no legal status or protections at all, all of it a guise under birth rate concernism

[atwoodsfemalefantasy]

WOMEN I NEED YOU TO LISTEN! this election rests on our shoulders. we have the power to beat Trump and Vance, and if we all work together to educate each other and understand how dystopian Trump and Vance will make this country for us, we can beat them.

Here's the facts:

-Trump and Vance want to get rid of No Fault Divorce. No Fault Divorce basically makes getting divorces possible without serious repercussions. No Fault Divorce saves women from abusive relationships ALL THE TIME. Trump and Vance plan to force women to stay in abusive relationships and are hiding it under the guise of "protecting families. Getting rid of No Fault Divorce ensures that women in unsafe and abusive marriages stay there and will lead to women being murdered because they couldn't get out. every voting age woman in america, take heed. Trump wants you to be forced to stay in abusive marriages. if you care about women's lives DO NOT LET HIM WIN

-JD Vance does not want women to be able to work. if you vote for Trump, women might lose their right to work, and along with it, their right to individual financial stability, and will be forced to stay in unhealthy relationships, forced to be homemakers, and have no choice in their own lives. do you want to go back to the 50s? do you want a man controlling your life? how long until they take our bank accounts again?

-JD Vance associates with people who say "feminists deserve rape". what do you think a man who associates with monsters like that will do to women in this country? first, we'll have to carry rapists babies, and then what? rape becomes even less punished than it is now

-Vance openly opposes gay marriage. are we prepared to live in a world where not only are we and our gay friends aren't allowed to marry but also aren't allowed basic rights like hospital visitation only allowed to spouses? and any queer person (like me) knows that marriage is not even close to being our biggest concern. it starts with denied wedding cakes. it ends with denied healthcare, and we all remember the last time that happened to the LGBTQ+ community.

-both Vance and Trump are openly transphobic. all those anti trans bills we've been proposed that never pass? they'll start passing. and if empathy for your trans sisters isn't enough for you to vote blue, remember that anti trans laws hurt women too. the second you drop your guard and don't look falsely feminine the way they want you too, you could be assumed to be trans and targeted. cis women have been beaten up for being in women's bathroom. cis women have been sent to mar jails because they're assumed to be trans. and to all trans people out there, we have the power to save this election. even if it seems pointless, even if you're losing hope, GET OUT TO VOTE. if you care about your rights, VOTE BLUE

-Vance and Trump want to get rid of ALL ABORTIONS with NO EXCEPTIONS! even if you're anti-abortion (i refuse to say pro lifers when abortion bans KILL WOMEN) THINK ABOUT THE RAMIFICATIONS. They want no abortion for rape victims. they want no abortions for incest. they want children who are pregnant to be forced to give birth EVEN IF IT WILL KILL THEM. women who will die from ectopic pregnancies WILL DIE if they can't get abortions. please, i am urging you, if you care about the lives of women, VOTE BLUE. even if you're pro abortion, the bans they want will kill women AND abort the fetus. A) zygotes are not alive or children. they aren't alive. B) even if you believe they are, please, you have to care about women's lives enough to trust them to make that decision for themselves. please do not be responsible for the women who will die. the women who will commit suicide. the women who will be murdered.

-Project 2025 includes cutting the department of education. do you want your kids to grow up intelligent and capable and educated? Trump and Vance don't.

-need any more evidence of Trumps racism? he wants to cut the EPAs office of External Civil Rights. actively cutting offices dedicated to equality and STILL he's supported

-i understand the concerns about Palestine. i hate the way Biden handled it too. but please, i need you to think. Trump, who openly hates middle eastern people will not handle the situation any better.

DO THESE ISSUES AFFECT YOU?

they should TERRIFY you.

Trump and Vance want to take us to Handmaids Tale America where women are forced to stay home to serve a man, have his babies no matter what, and never leave.

but we have the power to stop it. women, we account for more than half of this country. these men want to steal your rights away from you. DO NOT STAND FOR IT. we can beat those fuckers if every single one of us gets out to vote and votes for our fucking human rights.

we have the power, women. we have the power, POC. we have the power, LGBTQ+ community. if we protect our rights, we can win

[hippiegoth97]

Hi! I don't know if you do requests right now because you're probably working on a lot of upcoming projects, so don't feel pressured to write my request. I just can't get this idea out of my head; it's been on my mind for almost a week now. So, who better to ask than my favorite writer?! Anyways, reader recently came out as bisexual and is now in her first relationship with a woman, Chrissy, who's also bisexual. She is still new to the sexual experience with a woman, so Chrissy helps her out. I hope that's enough information for you to work with 💜

A/N: Okay, this has been sitting in my inbox forever, and my other projects unfortunately got in the way. But it's here, finally! I hope you enjoy it, I've never written Chrissy this way before! And I haven't written as much WLW fic as I'd like, so hopefully this doesn't suck! Thanks again for requesting, and *blush* thanks for saying I'm your favorite, it means a lot 💜

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, fem!bisexual!reader, bisexual!chrissy cunningham, fluff, LGBTQ+ themes, coming out, light angst, past relationships, oral sex, fingering

“Just relax, baby. Let me make you feel good.” Chrissy says as she looms over you on the couch in her apartment. Her eyes peer into yours, confident and reassuring. Your comfortable smile matches her own, the two of you having downed a nice meal of pasta and red wine before cozying up to watch a movie you'd rented. Of course, the film became far less interesting than each other's mouths rather quickly. And now, she's got you safely caged in, her body slotted between your thighs as her gaze offers you the world.

You've been seeing each other for a couple months after an initial blind date,  courtesy of your friends. That went as awkward as one could imagine, complete with fumbling hands and a drink spilled on someone’s blouse. But once the ball got rolling, sparks began to fly between you in no time at all. Chrissy is unbelievably sweet, and kind. She genuinely cares about your needs. And you do everything you can to be the same for her. 

You haven't always dated women, Chrissy is actually the first woman you've ever been with. Well, beyond the occasional drunken party make-out with Robin. It took you far too long to figure out you are indeed bisexual, denying your feelings and pretending. But at a certain point, it all clicked. You like girls as much as you like boys, and that scared the hell out of you when you first pieced it together. And it scared you even more to tell your friends about it.

You're pacing back and forth near the front door, waiting for your friends to arrive. You've invited them over under the guise of hanging out and having drinks. A typical Friday night. They have no idea what the real reason is, and how terrified you are. Tonight, you plan to come out of the closet.

You know you shouldn't be this freaked out. You really don't have anything to worry about when it comes to your group of friends. Robin is gay, Eddie (your ex) is bi himself and now dating Steve (also bi, obviously). And Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are the most supportive people in the world to all of them. You know they'll love you no matter what, that they'll be happy for you. But you can't help being a nervous wreck regardless, you've always been a chronic worrier. 

Before you have time to fake being sick and call the whole thing off, the doorbell rings. “Fuck.” You mutter, smoothing down your shirt and running your hands over your hair to straighten up. You open the door, finding five smiling faces waiting for you. Steve's got a couple six packs in his grip, with Eddie gripping a bottle of whiskey while his other arm rests around Steve's waist. “Hey guys, come in.” You smile nice and wide, opening the door further to let them inside.

“Hey, Y/N. How's it going?” Robin asks, pulling you into a hug with her hands full of chip bags.

“Great, now that you're all here.” You say, genuinely meaning it. The second you’ve seen them all standing there in the entryway, you know everything is going to be fine. These wonderful people are your family, after everything you've been through together.

“Always happy to be around, sweetheart.” Eddie chimes in, helping Steve set the booze down on your kitchen counter just off the entrance to your apartment. Even though you're not together anymore, Eddie still drops the sweet names he used to call you. It's nice to be on such good terms with him, your break-up actually went pretty well. You cared about each other, and had a lot in common. But things just weren't working, and you decided you'd be better off as friends. Besides, he's never been happier now that he has Steve. And fuck knows Steve is totally over the moon to have his love after a long line of absolute duds.

“Thanks, Eds.” You reply, immediately grabbing the bottle of liquor to pour some into a glass. 

“Eager to get the party started, huh?” Jonathan asks, giving you an odd glance. It usually takes a wee bit of playful peer pressure to get you to drink up, and here you are beating them all to the punch.

“Yeah. Why not?” You answer casually, knocking back a shot's worth before filling the glass halfway. You don't even bother with ice, you need the full sting of the alcohol to loosen your lips a little. Everyone else gets their drinks, and you all make your way to the couch and chairs in your humble living room. Nancy sits on Jonathan's lap on the sofa, Robin and Argyle taking the space beside them. Steve and Eddie take chairs side by side, while you stay standing. 

“Something wrong, Y/N?” Steve questions, noticing your fingers anxiously tapping on your glass. Now that you're standing in front of them, your confidence is resting on shaky ground.

“Uh, yeah. I just, um…h-have something I've been wanting to tell you guys.” You start, eyes darting between them and the floor. 

“You're not knocked up are you?” Eddie jokes, earning a smack from Steve. “Ow! Sorry, kidding.” He puts his hands up defensively, ignoring the disapproving glare from his boyfriend.

“It's fine. And no, it's not that.” You let out a dry giggle, partially wishing it really was something that simple. 

“Ooh, does someone have a new boy toy?” Nancy pipes up, drawing ‘oohs’ from the others.

“Nah, he'd be hangin’ off her arm right now if she did.” Argyle chuckles. The rest of them laugh, too, further detracting from what you're trying to do here. You grip your glass tighter as they go back and forth making comments and poking fun. You know they mean well, and you love them to pieces. But you need a damn second to say this before you change your mind.

“That's not it, alright!?” You snap, shutting them up. The group looks at you with wide eyes, and you sigh. “Sorry. It's just really important that I tell you guys this. It's been weighing on me for a while, and I need you to listen.”  

“It's fine, angel. We shouldn't have interrupted. Tell us what's goin’ on.” Eddie says apologetically, gesturing to give you the floor. 

“Okay.” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I'm just gonna…come out and say it.” You scoff at your own unintended pun. “I'm…” You clear your throat, and spit it out already. “...bisexual.” You finish, holding your breath now as the room is still silent.

“Is that all?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. You frown, and he elaborates. “Sorry, I just thought we knew this already.” He shrugs.

“What? No!” You cross your arms, getting defensive. You search the eyes of your other friends, finding no amount of surprise in them whatsoever. “You mean to tell me everybody knew except for me?” You ask in annoyance.

“To be honest, princess? We thought you did, too.” Eddie replies, bearing an awkward expression.

“Well, I didn't, so…” You say meekly, overwhelmingly embarrassed. They all knew. It makes you wonder, if perhaps there's some big, obnoxious neon sign on your forehead that says ‘QUEER’ on it. Bright and flashing for everyone to see, except for you. “God, I’m a fucking idiot.” You scoff again, shaking your head. You down the rest of your drink, storming off to the kitchen for another. 

“Y/N.” Robin calls after you, getting up from her seat to follow you. The others are only a step behind, on a mission to comfort you. Rob meets you at the counter, putting her hand on your shoulder as you pour a larger glass this time. You hesitantly meet her gaze, wondering what she'll say. “Y/N, you're not an idiot. Okay? We know how hard figuring this out is. Well, most of us, anyway.” She gets a small laugh from the others at that, as well as you. “Look, maybe we knew before you did, but that's not a bad thing. We've been where you are. Hiding, denying, feeling confused and afraid. But we love you exactly as you are, no matter what.” She pulls you in for a tight hug, and you gladly squeeze her back with all your might. 

“You're stuck with us, babydoll. Us queers have to stick together.” Eddie adds, making you laugh through your happy tears. He joins in the hug, followed by the rest of your wonderful friends. 

“Thanks, guys. I'm so lucky to call you my friends, my family. I love you all so much.” You say affectionately, muffled against Robin's shoulder.

“We love you too, man.” Argyle speaks on everyone's behalf, earning silent nods as they surround you in a comforting huddle.

“You okay, Y/N? You went somewhere else for a minute there.” Chrissy pulls you out of your own head, concern staining the smile on her face.

“Yeah. I'm fine. Where were we?” You answer, focusing on sharing this moment with her. 

“Well…” She smirks, lowering herself to kiss your lips. It's soft and warm, and heat pools in your belly. “...I was gonna go down on my girlfriend.” Another kiss, firmer this time, but still just as loving. “Is that what you want, baby?” She purrs, waiting for your permission.

“Yes.” You whisper back, earning her mouth on yours once again. Chrissy slips her tongue past your lips, tangling with your own. Quiet moans leave you both, the temperature in the room quickly rising. Her fingers nimbly open the buttons on your blouse, the fabric parting to reveal your bra. Her hands trail up your waist and over your ribs, meeting the plush cups covering your breasts. She's not shy about squeezing them together, getting a real feel for the size and shape of them. “Chris.” You moan as her lips leave yours to find your neck instead. 

Chrissy’s movements are completely self-assured. Simultaneously keeping you at ease, and driving you wild with arousal. You've never felt more comfortable getting intimate with someone than you do right now. Every kiss and touch feels like the best decision ever made, all by her hand. Though it's far too early to say it out loud, it's certain that you're falling in love with her. “Sit up, I wanna see more of my gorgeous girl.” Chrissy coos, backing off to let you up. You do as she asks, and she gently sheds you of your shirt before reaching around to your back. The clasp of your bra unhooks as if by magic, the straps falling slack from your shoulders. She gingerly removes the piece of underwear from you, revealing your pert mounds, nipples stiffened in the centers. “God, you're so pretty.” Chrissy exhales, finding your gaze again. 

“Thanks.” You blush, bashfully looking up at her through your lashes. The way she's admiring you with her eyes, it's like you're a mythical goddess she's vying to worship. No man has ever looked at you this way, not even Eddie, who was definitely the best of them. It's as if you're truly being seen for the very first time. “Baby…” You let out a small giggle, having to turn away as her stare burns into you with the power of a thousand smiling suns.

“Oh, honey. Don't look away.” Chrissy tuts as she guides you to face her again, her soft fingers leading your chin. “You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Can you really blame me for getting lost in your image?” She says earnestly, the words charging the air with intense sexual electricity. It's official, you're about one step away from proposing if she keeps this up. 

“I guess not.” You chuckle, unsure what else to say. Without another word, Chrissy leads you to lie down again. She follows you downward, her lips finding your collarbone next. She takes your bare breasts in her hands, sweetly massaging them in her palms. Her thin fingers and thumbs lovingly work your nipples, earning more quiet moans from you. Her mouth travels further along, meeting the top of your chest. The kisses she leaves are silky and warm, dialing up the simmering heat inside of you at a steady pace. 

Chrissy keeps going, her hands leaving your tits to be replaced by her eager mouth. She kisses every inch she can reach, making your head feel light. Her hands reach further down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding the zipper down its track. She slips inside the opening, finding what she imagines are matching panties. She presses on, no hesitation as she maneuvers underneath the luxe fabric to locate your needy clit. 

“Fuck.” You moan as Chrissy's fingertips whisper over the sensitive bud.

“Oh, you're so wet, honey...”  She smiles against your skin, pleased to know how good she's making you feel. She swirls your slick around, toying between your folds, circling your weeping hole. Her lips continue to worship your tits, licking and sucking to keep the pretty sounds spilling out of you. Your thigh happens to be between her legs in this position, and she can't help grinding against it as she's becoming rather worked up herself. She sighs into your flesh at the friction, your head spinning even more at the angelic sound.

“Feels so good, baby.” You say softly, cradling her head in your hand. Her strawberry blonde hair is in a ponytail, it almost always is, giving you the perfect view of her gorgeous face. Her plush lips and succulent tongue toil over your left nipple, her eyes blissfully closed. You can feel her breath fanning hotly across your skin, hear the soft moans as she slowly continues to grind on your leg, while her hand keeps riling you up inside your pants. After a few moments of being entranced by her, Chrissy slips two fingers into your soaked cunt. “Oh, god…” You whimper as she fills you up, curling her digits to hit your g-spot. The motion is slow and repetitive, teasing you before the main event. 

She pulls her lips away from your addictive flesh, cupping your cheek. “I can't wait to taste how sweet you are.” She says softly, shifting herself off of your thigh to rest between your legs. Her hands reach for the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down along with your panties. You're left completely exposed to her now, knees tented to reveal your soaked pussy. Chrissy's smile grows at the sight, a twinkle of lust in her eyes as her gaze shifts between your face and cunt. “You ready for me, Y/N?” She asks, one final chance to make sure you're ready for this.

“Yes. Please.” You reply, without a care in the world for how needy you sound. A breathy giggle leaves her at that, and she maneuvers herself above where you desire her most. Her eyes flutter at the scent of you, musky and inviting. It's tempting for her to kiss your inner thighs first, drive you a teensy bit more insane before giving you what you want. But the unabashed begging in your expression makes her think better of it. Instead, she leans in, and licks a thick, wet stripe from your entrance to your clit. “Oh, fuck…” You gasp loudly, clutching at the couch cushions with your hands. It would be obvious to say you've been eaten out many times before, but nothing like this. It's like Chrissy’s tongue was made for you, setting your insides ablaze with a single stroke. You've never experienced anything so intense before, it almost makes you feel like you've gone crazy, or been dosed with some unknown drug.

“That feel good, baby?” She asks, gingerly gripping your thighs to hold you in place. She's both surprised and amused that you tried so hard not to squirm or buck your hips from one simple touch.

“Yes. So fucking good, Chris. Better than anything I've ever felt before.” The words pour out of you as if on command, all sense of control leaving your already sweating body. 

“Yeah? Good thing I'm just getting started.” She says lowly, more dark and seductive than you've ever heard from her previously. It nearly sends your eyes rolling back into your head. That is, until her tongue returns between your folds where it belongs. 

“Fucking christ…” You moan as she carefully circles around your sensitive bud, occasionally licking downwards to find every last sensitive nerve at your entrance. It takes everything in you not to grind into her face, or pin her down with your hands. Instead, one hand grasps the end of the couch cushion, while the other claws for the armrest above your head. It's all you can do to keep yourself even slightly together, and focus on the immense pleasure Chrissy gives you.

“So sweet, baby. Such pretty noises, too.” She praises between passionate licks. 

You can’t offer much in reply besides your shameless moans, hands squeezing the plush of the couch as she drives you near the edge. It won’t take much longer at all, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly Chrissy has worked you up so close to climax. Her tongue prods around the spot that sends your knees buckling every time, making your thighs jerk in her grip. “Fuck.” You gasp, hoping she’ll keep touching you…

“Right there?” Chrissy asks in a sultry tone, repeating the motion to get an answer out of you.

“Yeah, fuck, right there. Don’t stop.” You answer breathlessly, sweat gathering on your brow, and in the bends of your knees. You’re practically digging holes into the upholstery of the sofa at this point, nails clawing so deep when you wish they were buried in Chrissy’s silky locks instead. Self-control wanes from you, and you can’t stop twitching and mewling with every stroke of her tongue against your pussy. 

“So close already, baby?” She asks, struggling to hold your legs still while she eats you out. 

“Mhm, don’t stop..please, wanna…wanna cum.” You say desperately to her, dangling over the precipice of complete and utter bliss now. All she has to do is cut you loose and let you fall. You can’t hold back anymore, your hands taking control of her head before you even register what you’re doing. There’s a gnawing need deep inside yourself, and you have to help Chrissy relieve it. She moans against you at your forcefulness, allowing you to take some control. Your fingers are weaved deep inside her hair, your hips rolling furiously into her pretty face. “So close, so close…” You whimper, panting like a feral animal. Your insides start to quiver as your orgasm comes into view, bright twinkling stars threatening to flood your vision. Chrissy pushes you that much further by keeping your pace, working your weak spot and your clit in tandem. “Oh, god, oh, oh, OH…” Your moans grow louder as your high ramps up, and one perfectly placed stroke of Chrissy’s tongue sends you toppling over the edge. “Chris一 fuck!” You cry out as your thighs tremble in her grip, hips bucking without rhyme or reason as you cum hard on her face. 

“Mm.” Chrissy moans as she drinks up your juices, her eyes glued to the beautiful expression on your face in this moment. Eyes screwed closed, mouth agape in ecstasy, skin glistening with sweat as pleasure rips through you. It’s an expression she’s only seen once thus far, but it’s one she’ll strive to see again and again for as long as she knows you. She strokes your thighs gently as you slowly come down from your high, planting a warm kiss to your hip before pulling away. “How was that, honey?” She asks, words dripping with honey as she lays herself on top of you. Her weight rests carefully over yours, drawing your lust-drenched eyes to find her gorgeous face gazing upon you with even more admiration than before, if that’s even possible.

“It was the best I’ve ever had, baby.” You say with a satisfied smile, lifting your head to give her a kiss. You hum at the taste of yourself, and the plush warmth of her lips. You pull away a moment after, lips still brushing against one another as the fire is reignited in your belly. “Your turn.” You add, soft and confident. You’re ready to take your first try at this, because with Chrissy, every single thing feels easy.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/729691227788820480/one-thing-that-comes-up-in-ace-discourse-that-is

Yeah, “anyone is allowed to say no to sex with literally anyone for any reason” is just a good baseline belief for anyone to have. There should be no confusion about that.

I think where people online can get weird about that is that this includes when people’s “reasons” are kind of shitty, e.g. they reject someone for their race or disability or weight or because they’re trans or whatever. But you’ve still gotta hold fast to that bigot’s right to say no, and not *just* because the person they’re rejecting isn’t going to have a good time with a bigot anyway. But because being forced or cajoled or socially pressured into having sex is evil, and body autonomy is paramount.

It’s like the similar argument people on here get weird about sometimes with abortion: you have to support the right of a pregnant person to abort because it’s a girl or because of the father’s race or because it has a particular disability or because they have the resources to take care of a kid but just don’t want to or because they just feel like it that day or whatever reason you “don’t like,” or you are not actually pro-choice. Similar to free speech, your belief in bodily autonomy is only actually that if you believe in it for reasons that you despise. If it’s not 100% the choice of the person with the body in question, then they don’t actually have bodily autonomy. If you support that autonomy, by definition that means you don’t get a vote when it’s someone else’s body.

So this likewise goes for if it’s “politically correct” for people with X identity to have/not have sex (or have/not have it with Y people) including for ace people to have or not have sex, or for allosexual people to reject asexual partners and vice versa. If you don’t believe people have an absolute right to reject someone for sex or dating, then you don’t support their autonomy. End of story. Your feelings about their decisions don’t matter.

It’s wild how many people on the left-wing corners of the Internet don’t get this. But there is so much pressure even offline for people in those circles to ignore their wants and needs under the guise of checking for how oppressive their standards are or are not. I have unfortunately known people whose whole dating lives seem to be based on exploiting their partners’ guilt over rejecting a trans person or ace person or POC and using that to encourage their partners to overlook their giant red flags. (This is not saying trans or ace people or POC are more likely to do that or something, I’m bringing those identities up because I’m thinking of some creepy individuals I know that have those identities and weaponize them. But it’s those individuals who are creepy, the identity is just their tool and if it wasn’t that it would be something else — but the idea in some left-wing spaces that some reasons for rejecting are less valid than others makes it easier for them to wield that tool and more effectively.)

Like, there are preferences people have that I privately think are pretty shitty. I’m a lesbian who has met other lesbians who say they won’t date bi women, for instance, and along with that I have yet to hear a reason *from them* for that preference that isn’t rooted in biphobia (and also often misogynistic slut-shaming), I can’t even think myself of a reason for that preference that wouldn’t be. There’s just no reason for *rejecting all bi women as romantic/sexual partners* if you’re into women, that isn’t based on some weird stereotypes or misconceptions about bi women or bisexuals/bisexuality more generally. But I still think those biphobic lesbians have the right to reject bi women. Because the idea that you are obligated to have sex/relationships you don’t want for the sake of “unlearning bigotry” is even more gross and disturbing!

--

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nathalie Baptiste at HuffPost:

WASHINGTON ― Hundreds of mostly white women gathered at a swanky downtown hotel to hear prominent conservative speakers and strategize with other moms about how to spread their message across the country. Decked out in everything from stylish pantsuits, light-up American-flag jackets and, obviously, Donald Trump swag, the crowd at the Moms for Liberty Joyful Warriors National Summit cheered and hollered as speaker after speaker spewed hate about transgender people ― all under the guise of protecting children.

[...] At the 2024 summit this week, the focus was on fearmongering about trans kids and criticizing school employees who support them. “There’s no such thing as a transgender child,” Tiffany Justice, a co-founder of Moms for Liberty, told HuffPost in an interview. Her position is a common one among conservatives, who have taken to attacking trans rights around the country ― even as less than 1% of the U.S. population identifies as trans. The right wing has attacked gender-affirming care as “child abuse,” though the American Pediatrics Association says such care can be lifesaving by reducing the risk of suicidal ideation.

Seth Dillon, CEO of the conservative satire website Babylon Bee, talked about “gender madness” when he addressed the crowd. Actor Rob Schneider, who had a prime-time speaking slot on Thursday night, claimed that children were getting “mutilated.” Texas state Rep. Shawn Thierry, who lost her primary this spring, announced that she was leaving the Democratic Party in part because of members’ views on transgender youth. Maud Maron, a former New York City community education council member who was removed from her post for sending anti-transgender text messages, claimed men were playing in women’s sports. “I think the federal government pushing child abuse really concerns American parents,” Justice said when asked why there was so much focus on trans issues at the summit. “Cutting off the healthy body parts of children is pretty extreme, right?” she said. “We’re cutting off the healthy body parts of girls.” She was referring to gender-affirming surgeries such as mastectomies, which are very rarely performed on minors.

At a panel on writing laws that protect parental rights, the session was laser-focused on transgender children. The speakers addressed the audience about how, through legislation, they can put a stop to “secret social transitions,” or schools transitioning children without telling their parents.

“We’re getting calls from parents saying this is happening at our school,” claimed Matt Sharp, senior counselor at Alliance Defending Freedom, a right-wing legal group. (It is not uncommon for transgender children to be out at school but not at home if they don’t feel safe telling their parents.)

[...] January Littlejohn, a Florida mom, had a similar story. She said her daughter wanted to transition after some of her friends did. The school held a meeting with the child, Littlejohn said, but refused to tell her the details of the meeting. Littlejohn had a warning to the parents in the room. “Parents of young children and grandparents, you need to be actively inoculating your children against this,” she said, claiming that “the faucet of gender ideology is free flowing” on social media. She also railed against allyship, claiming that children were being “indoctrinated” into being allies. “If you see buzzwords like ‘inclusivity’ and ‘safe and welcoming,’ that means gender ideology is alive and well in that school,” she warned.

At the Moms For Liberty’s Joyful Warriors National Summit this weekend, numerous speakers, including Tiffany Justice, Seth Dillon, and Rob Schneider, uttered out anti-trans statements.

[lovemyromance]

Sometimes I genuinely question the sanity of this fandom. Like I think some people have gone so extreme in one direction ... they've landed right in the same spot again, if that makes sense.

I'm sure regardless of who your favorite character is - we all read these same books so we all love a strong, powerful FMC. We love the chosen one long lost princess who kicks ass, has a bit of a mouth on her, and goes toe to toe with some "my job is sword" Ken.

We love it. Eat that shit up.

But I think the frequency - and bear with me bc imma make this word up - and tropefication of this romantasy genre has really made people lose their grounding, forget our roots and common sense, so to speak.

For example, let's take the enemies to lovers trope. Of course there's something so hot and exciting about two enemies who hate each other but fall in love. I love it. That's arguably my favorite.

But I think people are forgetting that despite the over saturation of this trope in the current market - It doesn't make any "non" enemies to lovers books any less romantic, any less exciting. Love is expressed and can be written in many different ways. Love can and will be written in the way that is most honest to people, and that extends to even fictional characters.

People are just so caught up in what has become the new norm that they are forgetting everything about real life, real people. They've adapted a "if it's not like this - I don't want it" attitude that might be doing more harm than good.

And I say that because I just witnessed all the drama that was Elain week when people were defending fictional abusers with their entire lives instead of just respecting a boundary set by a real person to respect others.

And I say that because I still see the stupid "pliable bones arguement"

And I say that because I mentioned once that I'd rather wait for Gwyn to show interest in someone romantically before claiming all these theories about her since she has very recent SA trauma - and then instead of people saying that makes sense, I had all these people saying I was anti-feminist and disrespectful to SA victims.

In what world is giving someone the time and space they need to recover from SA suddenly a bad thing? It doesn't even have to do with ships - it has to do with a character clearly being not ready to go out into the real world at the end of the book and deciding that maybe she needs more time to heal. Nobody's out here saying SA victims in general can never be in romantic relationships - all I've said is that specific character does not seem ready. When she shows interest in someone, I will take it as she is ready. I personally do not feel comfortable shipping someone with such recent trauma with someone-especially someone who is supposed to be her trainer and someone safe - unless they show me something that signifies actual interest.

And I understand the whole "empowering women" argument. But I want to ask - is that what we're doing?

Are you really empowering women? Or are you being disrespectful and a faux-activist under the guise of "women's empowerment?"

I don't care that these are fictional characters. The minute people start disrespecting real people over these fictional characters means that these characters mean more to those folks than actual people. And therein lies the problem.

These are real people that are getting called such ugly, rude names. And for what? To defend someone's "rights" to draw pictures of abusers? To defend someone's womanhood by disregarding her SA trauma?

It's tasteless. It's not just "fandom behavior". Fandom is not some lawless land where you can be a heinous human being and interact with real people disrespectfully. I've never seen it this bad and I'm genuinely shocked at what it's become.

[originalleftist]

PSY-OP ALERT:

Sorry for how long this ended up being, but there's a lot to cover. My sincere gratitude to anyone who actually reads through it.

We have seen again and again how easily supposed progressives, even those considered long-time allies, can quickly fall into believing and acting on fascist psy-ops.

There's no sure way to know that someone is a trustworthy ally. One might say that there is no such thing, since everyone has faults and blind spots and prejudices and is hypocritical to one extent or another.

But here are a few common ways in which so-called Leftists, progressives, feminists, etc get duped into supporting fascist agendas. It's both a litmus test of sorts, red flags that someone may not be as reliable an ally as you think, and also a good shortlist of major narratives the Right uses to try to infiltrate and co-opt progressive communities and divide their opposition, which you should be on the lookout for.

1. Ukraine/Russia. If someone is defending Putin or vilifying Ukraine, they are likely being influenced by Kremlinist-fascist propaganda designed to sway Leftists under the guise of being "anti-imperialism" or "anti-war". This is a larger subset of how opposition to wars and imperialism has been used for decades to draw Left-wingers into supporting conspiracy theorism and hypocritically aligning with dictatorial, even fascist regimes that are seen as opposing "the West".

Note: a specific subset of this, which I've found even people who otherwise don't necessarily fall for it sometimes do, is Assange apologism. Julian Assange is not simply a journalist who was persecuted by the government for exposing its secrets. He is closely-aligned with the Kremlin and its propaganda, and leaked information selectively to hurt Clinton/Democrats help Trump during the 2016 election.

2. Covid. Anti-vax conspiracy theorism used to be a position more associated with the Left, though it has been largely coopted by the fascist Right, thanks to Trump. A lot of this was built on opposition to capitalism/big corporations/"Big Pharma" and probably also environmentalist concerns about toxins in our environment, which appeals to Left-wing sensibilities.

There's also a heavy dose of ableism, particularly fear-mongering about/misrepresenting autism, which is another prejudice that has appeal across the political spectrum. Even if one accepted the (widely-debunked) claims linking vaccines to autism, that means that the central premise of the anti-vax agenda, when you strip it down to its core, can be summarized as "Your child is better off dead of a deadly disease than alive and autistic."

We might also have a word here about support for DNRs*/"assisted dying"/euthanasia and making "assisted dying" more accessible to disabled people, typically framed as letting them "die with dignity" without actually providing them the support that would let them LIVE with dignity (see Canada's MAID controversies). Though I am pleased to see pushback from Left-leaning parties on this recently.

*I should note here that I do not oppose DNRs in principle, nor the right of any patient (assuming they have the ability to do so, and if not that's what living wills are for) to refuse medical care. I DO have a problem when people are mislead or pressured to choose them, or even have them issued without their knowledge/consent (as in the widely-reported case of people with disabilities being given DNR orders in the UK).

3. Trans Rights. Many a proclaimed feminist has shown their true colours once the subject of trans rights came up. Falsely attacking trans people as male predators or fake women does not protect women- trans people are actually one of the most likely groups to be subjected to sexual violence, and if one wants to prey on women, there are far easier and less-stigmatized ways to do so in our society. Transphobia also ultimately serves to oppress cis women, as women who do not perfectly fit white patriarchal standards are investigated and accused of being trans (as seen with anti-drag laws potentially criminalizing non-traditional dress choices, and the attacks on cis female athletes of colour, particularly at the 2024 Olympics).

4. Israel/Palestine. Many so-called Leftists have embraced conspiratorial and even outright genocidal Anti-semitism masquerading as opposing "colonialism" and genocide. This narrative seems to rest on two primary lies- the claim that Jews are not indigenous to the Levant, and therefore colonizers (this is contradicted by overwhelming historical, archaeological, cultural, and genetic evidence), and the usual group-think/collective guilt and "us vs them" mentality (the belief that all Israelis/Jews are collectively guilty for the crimes of the Netanyahu government, and the belief that the rights of Palestinians and Jews cannot coexist, but one must come at the expense of the other).

5. Johnny Depp. Many so-called "feminists" quickly embraced or at least turned a blind eye toward misogynist abuse and conspiracy theories from incels/"Mens' Rights Activists" against a queer activist and DV survivor, out of fandom for Johnny Depp (who also has close ties to both the Kremlin and Saudi governments). Presenting Depp as "the real victim", and Heard as a fake victim undermining "real victims", and as a privileged elite using "white woman tears" to gain sympathy, were other ways in which the Right played on Leftists' sympathies and rhetoric to co-opt them in this case. Amber Heard hate/Johnny Depp fandom is a clear indication that a "progressive" or "feminist" can be swayed to abandon their convictions by celebrity/fandom, and/or lacks understanding of Intersectionality (ie how someone could be relatively privileged in certain ways but still disadvantaged in others, particularly against someone like Depp).

6. Immigration. Many supposed Leftists have proven susceptible to narratives accusing immigrants/foreigners of "stealing" jobs from the working class, while the reality is that immigration also creates jobs (more people means more demand for goods and services), automation is a threat to jobs that has nothing to do with immigration, and immigrants often do jobs most Americans don't want to (which is actually exploitation-in typical DARVO fashion, immigrants are vilified for their own exploitation). Anti-immigrant rhetoric is a divide and conquer tactic used by oligarchs to keep the working class fighting each other, instead of focusing on who's really exploiting them.

7. Housing. Attacks on the Unhoused are one of the most acceptable forms of bigotry in our society on both Left and Right. Often this boils down to simple selfishness- whatever a person's abstract political views, they don't want to see "homeless" or "poor" people around, falsely equate them with criminality/drugs, and are worried about the effect of encampments or even the construction of low-income housing on their property values.

These are all ways in which the Right commonly infiltrates and co-opts Leftwing circles, and pits its opponents against each other (divide and conquer). Of course, there are other issues, other examples. This is not a definitive list. So its important to learn to recognize patterns, so you can spot psy-ops/divide and conquer tactics in other forms/on other issues.

One frequent pattern in these narratives is of course collective guilt/guilt by association: Ukraine is bad because it is aligned with the West, Russia is good because it's against the West. Heard is bad because she's a (relatively) rich famous white woman (somehow Depp isn't, as a rich white man). Israel/Jews are evil because of the crimes of the Israeli government, Hamas is good because they're against Israel. Related to this is the use of DARVO tactics to allow oppressors to falsely claim status as victims, further muddying the waters (and a hard argument to counter, because anyone guilty of it can immediately accuse anyone who points it out of doing the same thing). Assange, an oppressive of the Kremlin, is painted as just a heroic journalist persecuted for exposing the truth. Depp, an extremely wealthy, famous man with a long history of racism, misogyny, violent criminality, and ties to the Mob and dictatorial regimes, is the helpless victim of his ex-wife/a feminist conspiracy. Upper/upper-middle class home owners are the real victims because poor people exist in their communities. White workers are the real victims, not immigrants exploited as cheap labour who don't dare complain if their rights are violated because they might be deported.

A third common trick is to simultaneously paint the target group as a deadly, even existential threat, and as pathetic and weak. This seeming contradiction is a hallmark of fascist propaganda specifically (Umberto Eco listed it on his list of 14 traits of fascism). For example, unhoused people are all lazy pathetic drug users, but also criminals destroying our neighbourhoods. Amber Heard is both a talentless, obviously lying gold digger, but also powerful and competent enough to terrorize her husband (in his home, surrounded by private security on his payroll) for years and mastermind a vast international conspiracy spanning a decade to frame him. Ukraine is not even a real country, but also a huge threat to Russia's security justifying its invasion (propagandists often sidestep this absurdity by simply treating Ukraine as an extension of the US/NATO- this allows them to simultaneously portray Russia's genocidal war as the underdog defending itself against "Western imperialism", and to reinforce their genocidal narrative that Ukraine is not a real nation).

Learn the tricks. Call them out when you see them. And if someone else says you're falling for them, don't get defensive and immediately double-down- listen and consider whether you are, in fact, being misled.