#but then you say “men should be allowed to like younger women” and suddenly it's bad.

[neverendingford]

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[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 25 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

“Surrender to me. I will eat this sweet pussy every morning for breakfast. I will be your slave.”

You don’t believe him, of course, but there is a growing desperation in his pleas that fills you with warning. He’s been patient with you, but you wonder if someday this man will not snap.

He has you tied up again.

You’d watched him produce the red ropes earlier with resignation, but surprisingly, no fear. You realize that you have arrived at a place of relative numb, where you have accepted he will not satisfy you without your submission, but you trust him not to really hurt you.

Drive you absolutely batshit insane, maybe. But not hurt you.

You’ve had time to think about it, and you know there are so many things he could have done by now to really win your compliance. He could have beat you. Starved you. Drugged you. All the usual dirty tricks men have used to keep independent women in line over the millennia.

He has not so much as spanked you, really, except for that once the other day, and even you know that had been child’s play.

More and more, you have come to understand that this man has been through it. He’s told you more about his brutal past, curled up with his head in your lap, spilling his soul to you while you stroked his dark hair. You have discovered that once he feels safe, the taciturn Mr. Wick actually has a lot to say.

If you hadn’t been sleeping beside him, the signs of PTSD might have escaped your notice. But after over a week in his non-stop company, you have woken beside him when he’s riddled with night terrors, his strong hands gripping your body hard enough to leave bruises. Sometimes he zones out, and you know he's not really seeing the room you're in. 

After hearing about his training (as a fucking child soldier!) and the things he had to do to survive over the years working for the Bratva, trapped in a cycle of violence he had little power to escape or control, you honestly think it’s a miracle that he’s come out of it as intact as he has—and goddamn if there isn’t a part of you that wonders if you cannot bring him back.

You should know better by now, than to think you can fix a man with your love. It’s a mistake you’ve made before, in your younger years, and you should know that nothing lies down that path but disappointment and heartbreak. But…what else do you have to do with your time?

Take up knitting?

You had watched him with a distant fascination, as he looped your wrists in the cord, securing them with beautiful knots before affixing your spread arms to the metal headboard. You had thought the curled iron design of the bed to be very pretty, but now you understand the form of it is perfect for knotting ropes in various positions.

You’re not sure how long he’s been torturing you with his tongue, bringing you right to the edge licking your clit with his fingers buried inside you, before withdrawing right at the last moment. He always fucking knows, even when you do your best to remain still as a stone. You have been going through your days in a constant state of low-burning arousal, perpetually wet with slick and uncomfortably swollen. You feel where his body has been every time you sit down, keenly aware of what he’s done, and what he hasn’t allowed you.  

“My poor darling,” he continues to taunt you, taking a break to nip at the inside of your thigh, your soft flesh already riddled with little bruises. “Why do this to yourself, when with three little words I could set you free?”

You cannot hold in your ragged sigh. “It’s kind of nostalgic really, just like my first boyfriend in high-school. Getting fucked constantly with no real hope of satisfaction…”

Wick responds to this with a snarl, the way you knew he would. Jesus Christ but his teeth are sharp. Suddenly he sucks at your clit with a vengeance, making you squirm and cry out in surprise. Of course he stops before you even have the chance to make use of the friction.

“I do not want to hear about the other men you’ve had in your life,” he cautions you. “I’m the only one who counts now.”

“Could have fooled me.”

When he gets on his knees with a dark look, you do feel some satisfaction. You’ve learned if you piss him off enough, he’ll try to punish you by taking his pleasure and leaving you hanging. At this point, you’re just relieved that it’s over.

“That smart mouth needs filling,” he growls, guiding his tip to your lips, and you let him fuck your face, sucking his glans messily with a swirl of your tongue the way you’ve learned drives him mad. The only time he catches a hint of teeth is not your fault, but his, in his enthusiasm for trying to shove his cock down your throat. It’s not long before he cums, spilling hot seed across your tongue. Some of it dribbles down your chin, and he wipes it across your lips with narrowed eyes, daring you to spit it out.

You’re foolhardy, but you’re not stupid. You lap it from his finger like a good girl, watching the post-orgasm glaze take over his midnight dark eyes.

The monster will be sated, for a little while.

You’ve bought yourself time, but no real relief.

[anna-hawk]

Dating Tommy 101

Evan "Buck" Buckley x Tommy Kinard

Summary: After weeks of Tommy not taking things further than kissing for what Buck supposes to be for his sake, Buck is finally done waiting. He needs to show Tommy that he wants more.

WC: 2,2k

CW: Explicit 🔞, PWP, hand jobs, couch sex, fluff and smut

A/N: After a couple of weeks of doing a marathon rewatch of s1 to s4 and finally reaching s7, it's no surprise that I came out as obsessed as before with Buddie, but also BuckTommy. This ship just grabbed me by the heart and wouldn't let go. It's been a while since I've fallen so hard for a ship and wanting to write for it.

Also on AO3

After all these years of hook-ups before switching to actual dating, Buck thought that he knew how a good date should go. The classics always worked: a restaurant followed by a movie — or the other way around — which would end in a good making out session. If not more.

It turned out that with Tommy, it wasn’t that easy. Not that dating Tommy was complicated as such, because it actually wasn’t, but Buck found it harder to find his rhythm. Their first date had started like any of Buck’s dates with women, and while they’d had fun at the restaurant, Buck had been the one to ruin things by freaking out when Eddie and Marisol had unexpectedly shown up. However, in the following weeks after clearing things up and hanging out again, Buck still didn’t know what he should or shouldn’t expect during their dates. Especially because at the end of each date, Tommy either left Buck’s apartment, or Buck left Tommy’s after a round of goodbye kisses. Intense kisses, but that was it. They had also finally gone to the movies, and while they’d had their heads together as they talked, and their fingers had linked with each other, Tommy hadn’t moved faster than giving Buck a few languid kisses. Kisses that had Buck leaning in for more, but unable to ask for it.

To say that it was driving Buck crazy would have been an understatement. He would have guessed that dating a man would be easier than dating a woman because men understood each other, right? Wrong. He’d made it clear to Tommy that he wasn’t afraid of being out in public with him. After all, how could he be, with the general warm reaction that the 118 had had at the revelation that he and Tommy were a thing? And he’d also thought that he’d made it obvious that he wanted more. Kissing Tommy in the middle of the ER entrance had felt incredibly exhilarating, and he hadn’t been able to, nor had he wanted to, hide just how much he had wanted Tommy then. Yet still Tommy, despite his flirting and innuendos that had left Buck flushed and definitely aroused more than once, didn’t push for more. Buck wasn’t known for his patience, but he also didn’t want to, as his friends liked to call it, buck things up again, so he didn’t push either.

Now, though, after weeks of dates here and there whenever their schedules allowed it, and long kisses that should never end the way they did, Buck’s patience was finally reaching a breaking point.

Tonight, like several times before, they had dinner at Buck’s, the younger man showing off one of Bobby’s recipes, and were now sitting on Buck’s new couch as they watched a movie. They sat with their legs touching and Tommy’s hand casually resting on Buck’s thigh. And just like the previous times, the hand wasn’t moving or not much at least, if the thumb making random circles counted. Buck stared at the hand as he chewed the inside of his cheek, before glancing at Tommy’s relaxed profile. It wasn’t that they’d never kissed while watching a movie or some game, but it had ended like any other times they’d kissed. Buck must have been staring for too long without realizing it, since Tommy suddenly turned his head towards Buck with a curious smile and a lifted eyebrow.

“You okay, Evan?”

Buck blinked a few times at being caught in his thoughtful staring.

“Why aren't we making out?” he blurted out.

This time, both of Tommy’s eyebrows rose as he stared at Buck in surprise.

“Do you wanna make out?” Tommy asked slowly.

“Do you?” Buck knew he sounded a bit reproachful, but he couldn’t help it. He was too frustrated.

Tommy turned his body slightly to face Buck with a taken aback expression.

“What makes you think I don't want to?”

Buck leveled him with a flat look and huffed.

“Because you keep stopping just when it's getting good.”

Tommy's mouth opened in surprise before he laughed softly and shook his head. He ducked his head, then looked up at Buck from under his lashes with a sheepish smile.

“I have been doing that, huh?”

Buck's mouth pulled up into a fond but still exasperated smile. Throwing caution to the wind, Buck swiftly moved until he was straddling Tommy, his knees against the other man’s hips. He lowered his arms over Tommy's shoulders and leaned down a bit to stare into Tommy's tilted back face.

“Listen, I appreciate you taking it slow with me and all that, I really do. But we've been dating for weeks and… unless you don't want more…” Buck shrugged with one shoulder and looked away as his uncertainties came crashing down on him, but Tommy scoffed at his words.

Tommy's hands found Buck's hips and squeezed until the younger man looked at him again.

“Do you really think I don't want more?”

His tone was low and sultry, a tone he'd used on Buck before. It had heat filling Buck's body and face instantly, just like it always did.

“Then do it,” Buck replied simply, and cupped the sides of Tommy's face to tilt his head into the right position to kiss him.

There were no exploratory kisses this time, Buck being too hungry for more to be able to slow down. He stole into Tommy's mouth with his tongue, the other man groaning and answering in kind. His hands slid underneath Buck's shirt, fingers stroking over strong back muscles. Pressing his hips forward, Buck felt lightheaded at the feeling of another growing erection meeting his. He rolled his hips back and forth, giving the new sensation a try, and felt a rush of satisfaction at the way Tommy moaned deeply from the friction. But still, he wanted more. He wanted to touch more. Reaching for the hem of Tommy's shirt, Buck pulled until Tommy moved forward a bit to allow Buck to remove his shirt. Buck sat back on Tommy's lap as he took in the other man's sculpted torso. The man sure had nothing to be envious of Buck's physique. Tommy was ripped in a way that had Buck automatically reaching for his chest and drawing his fingers along each muscle. Buck had always been able to appreciate the male body, even if only to compare himself to other men or set a goal, but this was something else. He wanted to get his hands and mouth all over Tommy.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Buck's eyes snapped to Tommy's, finding an amused expression on the man's face. He hadn't missed the raspy quality of Tommy's voice in the question, however, showing how affected Tommy was by Buck's slow exploration. Grinning slowly, Buck nodded and leaned in to kiss Tommy again. This time it was slower, but it was also deeper. Buck groaned as Tommy grabbed his hips and rolled his own up, making their erections rub together. They briefly separated to let Tommy take off Buck's shirt, which had Buck humming contentedly as their chests touched. Keeping their mouths sealed, Buck slid his hands between their bodies to find the buttons of Tommy’s jeans and pop them open. He shivered from Tommy stroking his fingertips along his back in a maddening pattern, and struggled for a second to unzip the jeans as he moaned into Tommy’s mouth. Once he finally got the fly fully open, Buck’s fingers encountered Tommy’s underwear. Breaking the kiss and pulling away a couple of centimeters, Buck looked down between them. His gaze zeroed in on the barely hidden erection tenting Tommy’s boxer shorts. His heart raced as he stared at it.

“Evan, hey, if you-” Tommy started in a gentle voice, but Buck barely heard him as he slowly peeled the underwear down to reveal Tommy’s bobbing length before he curled his fingers around it.

Buck’s eyes lifted to Tommy’s face as the older man exhaled harshly and let his head fall back over the couch. His fingers tightened over Buck’s hips, and he softly moaned when Buck tentatively twisted his fist over the head of Tommy’s cock. Buck watched, completely mesmerized by Tommy’s pleasure-filled expression, as he worked out what Tommy enjoyed. He’d thought about this moment a lot, wondered what it would feel like to have another man’s dick in his hand. He’d been nervous about it, but seeing Tommy’s erection, knowing that Tommy was hard because of him, had Buck’s hesitations falling away completely. Biting his bottom lip, Buck took his hand away from Tommy for a second and slid his tongue over his palm before returning it to Tommy’s length.

“Fuck,” Tommy hissed at the slicker glide and pumped his hips up in reflex.

Buck chuckled with pride at getting that reaction, and found Tommy opening his eyes halfway to stare at him with a mix of amusement and lust. Reaching for Buck’s nape, Tommy pulled him down for a kiss that was pure filth and had Buck’s erection pressing painfully against the front of his pants. As if Tommy knew, his hands went to Buck’s fly and proceeded to open it. Despite knowing what was coming, between the kissing and keeping his attention on stroking Tommy’s cock, Buck still gasped and jerked wildly as Tommy took him in hand.

“This okay?” Tommy asked in a raspy voice, staring up into Buck’s eyes.

“Uh huh.” Buck licked his lips. “Yeah. Very okay.”

Tommy smiled at him fondly and chuckled. At the back of his mind, Buck wondered how Tommy could believe that Buck wasn’t enjoying every second of this, considering that he could feel the amount of pre-come that his cock was leaking, making each pass of Tommy’s hand more slippery.

“Been thinking of doing this,” Buck blurted out through panting breaths.

“Yeah?” Tommy smiled mirthfully, swiping his thumb over Buck’s slit, which had the younger man moaning and snapping his hips into Tommy’s hand. “Me getting you off, or you getting me off?”

“Yes,” Buck replied, unable to follow the train of conversation for a second after another delicious twist of Tommy’s wrist.

Buck could see Tommy’s grin at his reply, and proceeded to use Tommy’s own move on him in retribution. He smirked victoriously at Tommy’s long groan of pleasure, confirming that he’d done it just right.

“Always been told I’m a quick study,” Buck teased in a low voice, before he licked his way between Tommy’s lips again.

Tommy moaned and tilted his head to deepen the kiss even more. With his other hand, Tommy pulled at Buck’s pants to lower them over his hips, while Buck shifted a bit on his knees to help.

“C’mere,” Tommy said in a soft-spoken tone against Buck’s lips, the man moving in closer as requested.

“Oh, fuck!” Buck gasped loudly, as Tommy took them both into one hand and pressed their lengths together.

Through heavy lidded eyes, Buck stared down at where Tommy was jerking them off faster, the glistening heads rubbing against each other with each upward stroke and driving Buck crazy from how good it felt.

“Evan,” Tommy breathed roughly, which had Buck’s gaze snapping back to the other man’s.

A long shiver of affection and lust ran through him at the open and hungry way that Tommy was looking at him. He leaned down to press his lips against Tommy’s at the same time that Tommy cupped the back of Buck’s neck. The kiss was brief as they panted into each other’s mouth, their foreheads touching as they watched each other getting closer and closer to release. Buck was the first to go over the edge, his forehead creasing and eyes closing as he moaned in pleasure. A few seconds later, Tommy’s body started to go rigid, and Buck forced his eyes open to be able to watch Tommy’s face as he came with a drawn out groan. Hot splashes of come hit Buck’s stomach and mixed with his own as Buck took in Tommy’s blissed out expression, feeling another rush of satisfaction course through him at the sight.

They both sank into the couch as their bodies relaxed with the afterglow. Tommy’s clean hand came around Buck’s waist to keep him close, but it wasn’t like Buck wanted to go anywhere, as he wrapped his arms over Tommy’s shoulders and nuzzled into his temple.

“Remind me why we didn’t do this earlier?” Buck asked drowsily a few long minutes later.

He grinned at Tommy’s snort and long sigh.

“Because I’m an idiot, apparently.”

Buck chuckled and lifted his head to look into Tommy’s soft blue eyes.

“Nah, you’re not… It drove me crazy, but I get it.”

Tommy laughed under his breath and tilted his head in a request for a kiss that Buck instantly granted.

They untangled a minute later and cleaned up before getting dressed again through comfortable silence and shared smiles and touches. As he sat down on the couch next to Tommy again, Buck smiled to himself at how natural it felt to be with Tommy. Maybe it was easier than he’d thought if he could broach the subject that was bothering him instead of just raking his mind over it. As he directed his attention to the screen at last, he frowned.

“So… what were we watching again?” Buck asked, since he realized that he had no idea which movie they had ended up selecting as they’d sat down earlier, too focused on Tommy to remember anything else.

[tenderhungering]

veep headcanons? :3

oh this will take a WHILE……i love veep so much. i’m about to wrap up season 6 right now ! i think i’ll do little headcannons / analysis for each character ! i might do a part 2 because i want to also do some more supporting characters. like you know damn well im gonna wanna write for catherine and marjorie as a whole,,,

Selina

named catherine “catherine” like her mother in order to be able to yell said name in anger the way she never could yell back at her mother

the severe mommy issues make her need every single one of her staff to be emotionally involved in her. if she isn’t the center of their life, she gets anxious about it, even angry. she needs to be validated

depends heavily on spellcheck,,, i just think she hates phones for some reason.

she can tell EXACTLY how someone is feeling by making it up in her head and believing it ❤️

got arrested once in her youth and it was wiped off the record. #supportwomen’swrongs

Amy

would do super super well taking up something that makes her adrenaline pump. they keep trying to get her to relax by making her get massages, meditate and be in quiet. she needs NOISE. she should be allowed to beat someone up at least once a day

had a little gray cat whenever she was younger. she likes them ! they’re similar to how she is whenever it comes to boundaries.

bisexual but she has a stressful job so she doesn’t have time to think about that rn

she would benefit from me in her life actually

actually really liked dan bc dan seems to personalize the relationship to the person (dan is so kind ❤️) so she was into him but suddenly got the ick.

Dan

trigger warning for SA and grooming: i think dan’s relationship with sex is so affected by the fact he slept with his teacher whenever he was younger in exchange for a good grade. it has made him view it was an exchange, a transactional affair. it’s why he’s so shit at intimacy, he doesn’t see to her anything out of it.

watches all the latest movies but it’s only because he keeps taking women out to go see them:

has a really sensitive stomach,,,,he says it’s something he ate but i feel like whenever he gets anxious it happens to

catholic guilt galore but he’s busy so he CANNOT get into it

he’s so the type of boyfriend who does baby talk and when he’s recorded he gets real mad about it. get that camera OUTTA here

Mike

he is like a baby duckling to me that’s why he wanted to raise them actually

has so many useless apps on his phone. why do you have a flashlight app you have a flashlight BUILT into the phone. its okay though bc he watches lot of youtube tutorials

probably wanted to vlog at some point but he got yelled at by selina in a clip so he stopped

the personality hire,,, everyone loves him but god he can be so bad at his job sometimes. everyone gets mad but never enough to fire him

because he started dating wendy, he started to dress up a little more ! ties and handkerchiefs match. i love you dad

Jonah

he so ran one of those private meme accounts whenever he was younger but he got so bad at everyone saying they were lame he just posted a screenshot that said SUCK MY DICK SON and blocked everyone

his incessant gross comments are a result of being around a bunch of rich white men that happen to be politicians that tend to laugh at them. he has daddy issues. he needs the validation

his little curls going missing are a result of him getting his hair straightened because he wanted to look more professional actually. he burnt his hands so he begged his mom to help him

gets really anxious about his health CONSTANTLY and has a will written out already because he’s scared one day it’ll (he doesn’t know what) catch up to him

Gary

he knows the lyrics to every new pop song ever. he loves it. he used to play Just Dance whenever he was in college or something i don’t know i feel like he might’ve even been in a club that requires that

has an extensive skin care routine. he puts on those fluffy headbands sometimes but stopped bc he realized it was to keep your hair dry and his is so short lmao

definitely has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. he just pops a pill of whatever and hopes that it works (it doesn’t)

needs heavy validation from authority figures,,,like badly,,, i think that’s why he enjoys it so much whenever any of selina’s boyfriends acknowledge him as a person (or anyone gives him any importance)

he needs someone to tell him what to do because he is so lost on having any identify that isn’t directly tied to someone else ? he’s not even really sure what he himself likes anymore. uses “we” more than he uses “i”

[arizonaconservativegal]

For the fact that Bruce Jenner is a man with reproductive sexual organs of man same as me and how the fuck does that make him different than any other man? when in fact he is a man. How the fuck do you think he is woman just like yourself a natural born female? If you think he is a women how come he cannot get periods or goes through what a woman´s body goes through and if younger how would that man get pregnant? like to hear your leftists logic on men like him who think he is a woman.

Here's the thing about Caitlyn Jenner

Obviously she is biologically male. Obviously she is not the same as a biological woman. She's also not trying to tell anyone that she gets pms or should be allowed to compete against women in sports (quite the opposite of that, in fact). As far as I can tell, she's just trying to live as normal a life as someone like her is able but she's under no illusions that she will ever be quite the same and she's not trying to change the rest of us to make herself feel more normal.

I'm totally fine with this. She's not bothering me. She's not doing anything that affects anyone else.

So yeah I'm going to call her Caitlyn and refer to her as 'she' and all that. She hasn't gone by Bruce in ten years. My friend just got married and took her husband's last name. That doesn't make her biologically a Smith. But she's part of the family now so we're going to call her Smith. Caitlyn Jenner is not biologically a woman but as far as I'm concerned, refusing to acknowledge that she is living the way the rest of us do is just as silly as refusing to call my friend by her new last name. I can think it's a little weird, just like I'd think it was a little weird if my friend had decided to hyphenate her last name instead of just going with Smith, but so what?

I don't care what adults want to do with their own body and what they want to call themselves. I only care when they start to impose on others.

As far as all the other trans stuff goes...

I think there are a lot of kids who would have been goth or emo when I was growing up but these days are being told that they are probably trans or whatever. They just feel out of place and are searching for something that makes them feel understood. And while I don't really see the harm in letting them buy some new clothes and cut their hair a certain way to see if they feel better, there is no good reason for any medical procedures to be performed on them. I think there are a lot of well intentioned but misguided people trying to help them and I think there are a lot of sick fucks trying to take advantage for politics or profit.

I think there are also a lot more sick fucks who like to pretend to be trans whenever it's convenient and gives them access to someone they can prey upon. But let's just be adults here for a second - I'm pretty sure we can all tell the difference between someone like Caitlyn Jenner and some creep that just got convicted of raping four women and has decided suddenly that he would like to serve his sentence in the women's prison. Come on.

Locker rooms, bathrooms, and prisons are sex segregated for a reason and should stay that way. I would be perfectly happy to see some more gender neutral locker rooms and bathrooms in addition to the women's and men's rooms - but I am vehemently opposed to making either one of those the new gender neutral space.

I am not going to entertain the idea that transwomen are identical to the rest of us. Sports are sex segregated for a reason as well. I don't really know what would be fair to trans athletes but I know for sure that making the women's team the 'everyone team' is not fair to anyone. Anyone pushing that is just willfully blinded by politics.

I am not going to refer to mothers as 'birthing people' or gynecology patients as 'people with vaginas' or any of that nonsense. I am also not going to say 'people with two legs' to be sensitive to people who have fewer. We all know what we're talking about and if you are offended by your own differences, then I'm sorry but that's not something some sparkly new language is going to fix for you. I'm certainly not going to entertain the idea of changing the definition of 'woman.' I'm not going change how I refer to myself to appease anyone else. I will call you whatever name you want but you don't get to redefine who I am.

And if you pick a really stupid name or fake pronoun for yourself, don't be shocked when someone makes fun of it the way we all make fun of Xitter or some millennial naming her kid MacKeighleigh.

But here's the other thing about Caitlyn Jenner - she is not any of those people. Actually I don't think most trans people are any of those people. I think almost all of that garbage comes from people who are misappropriating the label or who fancy themselves activists and they're giving the actual trans community a bad rap. I think most trans people are pretty normal aside from the obvious.

We have a handful of legitimate issues to work out in regards to the bathrooms and sports and I'm sure that is a little uncomfortable to have to hash out but I think if we stop trying to be assholes on purpose, we can figure it out.

[miraplayssims]

Arabella had gotten engaged and a wedding was held in Britechester. Though not too far away from Henford, it was still the furthest away any of the Gale children had ever been from the farm.

Magdalena loved the city, with all its modernities and large buildings. What she loved even more, however, was being able to walk around the town with Cecilia, without anyone to object or scorn. No one to question why a girl of Cecilia’s standing would associate with someone like Magdalena.

The day after the wedding, before the train was set to take them back to Henford, Magdalena and Cecilia enjoyed one last walk together. As they walked arm in arm, she looked up at Cecilia, her Cecilia, and sighed. If only it could be like this always, she thought.

When the girls approached the large square close by the university buildings, they saw a small group of women standing together, “deeds not words! Sisters, rise up, votes for women NOW!” they could hear the women shouting.

“Celia!” Magdalena suddenly gasped and let go of Cecilia’s arm, “isn’t that Ms. Carlisle?” she asked, pointing towards the women with signs and banners.

“Yes, I think you’re right!” Cecilia said and together the two girls ran over to the gathering of women.

“By Jove, do my eyes deceive me?” Ms. Carlisle exclaimed when she saw her old students, “why, Ms. Grey and Ms. Gale, what are you girls doing here?” she said with a wide smile. She handed over the banner she was holding to younger woman to shake Magdalena and Cecilia’s hands.

“We’re here for Arabe- Ms. Goodman’s wedding,” Cecilia explained, “well, I suppose she’s Mrs. Bradshaw now.”

“Oh, happy day! You must send her my best,” Ms. Carlisle said, “we’re just about finished, please stay, I’d love to hear how you’ve been.”

When the women soon after were done and all packed up, Ms. Carlisle grabbed a young woman by the arm and led her to Magdalena and Cecilia, “I’d like to introduce you to Ruth Gabriel!” she said, “I believe the three of you are the same age.”

Magdalena studied the girl closely. Ruth wore a hat just like her own, and when the two shook hands she could feel how rough and chapped Ruth’s hand was. So different from Cecilia’s, but so much like her own.

“Come, girls,” Ms. Carlisle said, “let me treat you to something sweet.”

Magdalena listened intently as Ms. Carlisle and Ruth spoke about their cause, Votes for women. One hour ago, she hadn’t even considered the possibility of women being able to vote, but now… Now it seemed so obvious. Of course we should have the right to vote, of course we’re just as capable as men, she thought.

“We simply wish for women to have the same rights as men,” Ruth explained, “we have to pay taxes, but we’re not allowed to have a say in what´s done with that money? That’s not democracy in my book.”

“Ms. Gabriel and myself are part of a society called Central Committee of the National Society for Women's Suffrage,” Ms. Carlisle chimed in, “if you’re interested, I know the woman in charge of our branch in Henford. It was a while since I last spoke to her, not since I moved away I believe, but I’m certain she’d love some new recruits.”

"Yes, I´d love that!" Magdalena said eagerly. In the distance they could hear the church bells ring four times, "Oh, Cecilia and I have to catch our train, but please do write to her, Ms. Carlisle. Could I get your adresses? I´d like to keep in contact."

As the three women exchanged their information, Cecilia sat quiet.

Magdalena and Cecilia started making their way back towards the Britechester train staion. But while Magdalena was filled with excitement over the possibility of joining the fight for women´s suffrage, Cecilia was quiet and distant.

"Magda, stop talking, please!" she suddenly snapped.

Magdalena stopped dead in her track, schocked at her Cecilia´s harsh words, "What´s the matter? What did I do?"

Cecilia turned around and glared at Magdalena who quickly caught up to her, "why did you ask for her adress?"

"Ms. Carlisle´s?"

"Don´t play dumb. That girl´s, Ruth or whatever?"

"I thought maybe we could write to each other," Magdalena said, still confused about Cecilia´s sudden outburst.

"You think she´s pretty. Don´t deny it, I could see how you looked at her," Cecilia sneered, "if she knew what you are, she´d be repulsed. I am the only one who isn´t disgusted."

"Celia, please-" but before Magdalena could continue, Cecilia had once again walked off.

[swirlmup]

RWBY may have its flaws, but at least its not racist to POC, at least it doesn't treat its female MCs as damsels in distress, nor does it make male side characters into white male saviors.

Fixing RWBY v5 took a pedophile bandit, and made him into a father and husband while still having him sexually harass teenagers.

It also glorified racist white men as protagonists in place of the female characters, but let's focus on FRWBY V6.

Where the angry abusive straight white male version of toxic masculinity is now suddenly overpowered, gets sympathetic backstory, can now force women who have never met him before to beg for forgiveness, and the woman he abuses is now forever forced to carry his blade? And he is not allowed to be killed by the women he oppressed?

RWBY is written for people wanting feminism, lgbt rep, and SJW values.

Fixing RWBY is for toxic masculinity and people with conservative values, like libertarians.

To say nothing of how Fixing RWBY treats POC characters like garbage....the sheer racism in your fanfic is atrocious.

I mean there was the whole thing in RWBY where the writers said the White Fang were inspired by American Civil Rights movements, but then the White Fang are also unequivocally portrayed as the bad guys, and then there was Blake needing to be rescued by Sun when she was captured, and then there was ubermensch Jaune activating his healing semblance just in time to save Weiss, but go off I guess.

FRWBY, for the record, also isn't racist, nor treats its heroines as damsels, nor makes white male side characters into white saviors.

Shiloh isn't a pedophile and he isn't Raven's husband. He's just Vernal's baby-daddy. He assumed Yang was a legal adult when he met her, and he was correct in that assumption since Yang is already 18 by the time they meet, so that clears him of that accusation as well.

It did not glorify any white men over the heroines.

Adam is canonically a strong fighter in RWBY, all we did was be more consistent with his strength and didn't depower him at any point, and instead allowed him to also progress in the same way the heroines progressed and got stronger. Adam canonically always had a sympathetic backstory, as evidenced by the brand on his face and additional canon from the short and comics showing that when Adam was younger he was much nicer. All we did was add more meat to his already hinted-at backstory. He didn't force Weiss to apologize, she chose to do that on her own, and I think that that was a very grand moment for Weiss. She's stepping up to take responsibility for her family's actions, she's being the bigger person and extending whatever kindness she has to offer to the person who deserves it the least. Weiss is downright saintly in that moment. Adam didn't want her apology and spat on it. Blake took Adam's sword of her own will. Nobody forced it on her, she could have left it behind. We don't know what will become of the sword in future volumes, if she'll really keep it forever or throw it away. The story hasn't revealed the sword's final fate yet. The entirety of team RWBY worked together to beat Adam up. Blake protected her friends, Yang put Adam in a crater, Weiss said the final words, and Ruby shot the finishing blow. These women were all terrorized by Adam, and they all worked together to end him. This might shock you to hear, but a lot of the artists contributing to FRWBY are also deeply concerned with women's portrayal in media, are lgbt and want rep, and also believe in social justice values. I won't say every single one of the Sketchy Huntsmen are like that, but a good chunk are. Perhaps you just have a different idea of what feminism, lgbt rep, and social justice should look like compared to us?

Still don't know where people get the racism thing from. Like, at no point does FRWBY treat any poc character poorly.

[himbos-hotline]

What do you think needs improvement in wwe and aew

OKAY so prefancing this by the fact I have not watch WWE in over a year and the only things I know about WWE now is what im getting from tumblr

both companies need to stop relying on the old stars/ old wrestlers needing either a money hit or a cash hit or like another grasp at talent. as much as I LOVE daddy ass and re-living my childhood in wrestling but like I get sooo tired of seeing people relive the glory days when they shouldnt *cough* ric flair *cough*. like theres sooo many talented younger wrestlers that arent getting shown on TV/ in the companies because older wrestlers get quick pops because of the nostalgia run. I see goldberg one more time I will actually explode.

Aew needs to book more womens matches and treat them at the same like bundle and preface as men! Like give us a womans blood and guts!! and more womens matches in genearal where its more of a rough and tumble vibe with blood. My favourite womens match is the thunder rosa brit baker cage match!! Also give me more nyla like I love nyla rose sooo much and shes so talented and cool and I wanna see her wrestle more

also things that feel like "small" tag teams, like the best friends, arent being like shown how talent they are. I know that sentence doesnt make sense. But re-watching aew during the pandemic era- where you had the trent vs kenny match it was so good and it really showwed just how cool and talented trent is in the ring and I think both him and chuck should be allowed to wrestle more and actually wrestle like do moves and win matches, theyre not just to push other talent or let newer tag teams win, its kinda depressing when taented wrestlers arent used in the way they deserve too

another thing and this is just for me, maybe this is just for me. Like long term storytelling suddenly either being shifted/stopped. Like do you remember when mox was facing [I think its either max or jericho] and someone like attacked him backstage and we NEVER EVER got told/figured out who attacked him and its kinda just been forgotten? ALSO as much as I love the elite and the hangkenny storyline and hangman rejoining the elite. He caused so much issues and trouble with everything and he hurt them, like matt said that bte episode "it hurt my heart" and theyve all like, just kinda accpeted him back. No like deep apology or "you have to prove yourself" or whatever. Its like they forgot the entire three year story they told. Also kenny finding out about the fucking nod- it could have been done so much deeper and sadder and emotional, the bucks have been there with kenny since his breakdown/breakup with kota and theyve always had his back until the one moment he needed them and they sided with hangman. But instead of all of that we got "k its cool" and I dont know if its gonna like come back up after all the kenny dealing with callis emotions is gone. Cuz thats gotta like fuck someone up mentally, suddenly loosing that abusive manipultive hold on you suddenly disappearing.

and FANS!! like, I love wrestling fans but also god I hate them so much. Guys, Guys I am begging y'all to stop showing wrestlers fanfics/ship-fanart and everything else. its not like made FOR them its made FOR other fans. I wouldnt want to be exposed to being shipped with my friends by people online. Like....ugh. ALSO like a small thing that pisses me off is fans thinking we can like, touch them in sexual ways. this is mostly cis-het men touching cis women wrestlers on their asses and tits. Like you wouldnt like if someone fondled your dick without asking. Concent is important and its not just for ike, fucking. its for every single thing in life. Yall can cuddle the wrestlers if they say you can but god if youre making people uncomfortable and gross its fucking bullshit and youre a sucky human being.

[bumblee-stumblee]

I have the same beliefs about trans people as you do but I also think I'm trans??

Like the way theve described dysphoria is how I feel about looking g femine and being called a girl

Not just in a derogatory way but my little sister calling me sissy makes me feel absolutely terrible

Maybe we're wrong about this

No i get that feeling. I don't think we're wrong.

I think all if not most girls go through that feeling. We're made to be uncomfortable, we begin to see the signs of our oppression and how the men in our lives contribute to our oppression we just aren't able to word it properly.

It begins with virginity. Sex. Are you a sex object yet? When will you be? And now in this age for many girl they are groomed and asked, will you make an Onlyfans? You could make so much money, it's so empowering.

The constant reminder that they don't see you the person they see you as a potential object to use for their pleasure. Woman hating is men's pastime and they make it known. Especially now that they seek to control women's bodies again and have no issues being open about it.

TW CSA

When I was younger I saw the freedom that my brother has had. They were allowed to do mostly anything they wanted. They could make and destroy as they pleased, say whatever they wanted, look however they wanted while my sisters and i had to be clean, quite, pick up after them, mind our manner, unlace their laces and slip off their boot. The boys must be tired after all, they shouldn't be made to take off their own boots. That's what we were there for. To serve. I hated it.

I went through csa, I was 8 and it went on for 2 years only for it to stop and suddenly start again with a different person. It was definitely trauma that i didn't know how to process. I hated the changes my body was going through, i developed early and blamed myself and my body as if it was my fault, as if it was fault of being born a girl that caused me to be violated and not the sick men that saw a vulnerable child and took advantage.

When i was in highschool the self loathing persisted and for two years I lived on as a boy socially. I would hide my body as much as i could, i internalized misogyny and had convinced myself i wasn't a girl. That it was disgusting to be seen as one. Porn showed me how women were just objects and i didn't want to be an object, only men were seen as human while women weren't.

I'd sneak my brothers clothes, a pair of baggy pants a Tshirt and an oversized sweatshirt. I'd deepen my voice (cringe) and be vulgar. This male version of me wouldn't take shit from anyone. I was angry a lot.

I couldn't get access to chest binders so I'd wear a tight sports bra and wrap ace bandages around my chest to further flatten my breast. I'd get so angry when i bled, another reminder i was a women. I hated it.

I would have transition if i had the chance. Had i been born in this time where you really just need a conversation with someone online that could get me diy test i would have taken it to escape what i didn't know how to word. Stereotypical conservative gender roles? I lived in a conservative city, but no i think Sex based oppression seems accurate, because it's not coming just from the conservative side.

I've changed since.

I've learned to be kind to myself, i was a victim, i survived i need to be kind and considerate to myself and my body. It's not my fault what happened, it's not my bodies fault. Why should I have to feel disgust for what someone else did to me. Why should so many girls have to live being made to feel ashamed of their body and of being a woman. There's nothing wrong with being a woman.

Sorry for the long rant.

[peacesmith]

posted also on ao3

title - fooled around and fell in love

pairing - christopher smith x male reader (trans-friendly!)

rating - fluff

word count - 884

summary - on one of chris' day off, he decides to go to a music store to add to his collection. he meets a cashier who catches his interest.

notes - christopher is a BI-con and i refuse to take criticism, eagly is there, lowkey throwing in my headcanons for chris when it comes to music but its slightly canon. i really focus more on chris here because i love developing characters. chris goes dumb for a second and has a gay panic, reader is a real charmer. literally based off of my experience with a cashier.

For someone like Chris, you’d expect him to go to a bar and maybe do a couple of hookups on his day off. Well, surprises do happen. Instead of doing hookups like he usually would do, he decided to go to a music store.

Its no secret that Chris is a music connoisseur, he owns about a thousand CD’s and record player disks. Their always spread out around in his trailer, mostly because he doesn’t bother to put them up after playing it.

His collection includes a lot of older songs back from his time, mostly rock. Cinderella, The Poodles, Pretty Boy Floyd, Wig Wam, and a lot more. It mostly depends on the mood he’s in or what he’s doing. There’s always some sort of music going on in his head or trailer.

And so, he decides that today, he should go to that music store that people have been talking about. Maybe he could add more to his collection.

When he walks into the store, he’s immediately hit with the smell of candles. Mostly giving off a more cinnamon type of smell. It’s comforting.

The place isn’t colorful, but it’s very organized. It’s mostly one color, but there’s a lot of variety of that one color. It’s nice, Chris is already starting to like this place.

He looks around for a bit before finding what he’s looking for. The rock section. It’s divided into different genres of rock, pop rock, punk rock, experimental rock, even hardcore metal. It brings a smile to his face to see all the different types there.

This store is almost starting to feel like a safe place here, makes him want to come here more. Maybe just to look, or connect with others, just maybe.

He picks out a couple of vinyl records, about 3 or 4, before going up to the cash register. As soon as he gets there, he’s greeted by a handsome man. Doesn’t look too far from his age, but definitely younger than him. The cashier gives him a smile and takes the vinyl’s from him.

“Good afternoon, found everything alright?” Asks the man from behind the counter as he scans the vinyl’s. Chris is starstruck. Why is it that suddenly, he’s found this guy attractive? He needs to say something, quick!

“Yeah… yeah, I found everything alright. There are some good music choices here.” Chris nods before going silent again, it wasn’t like him for him to be this way. Usually, he would’ve had something to say, but he’s just silent.

Chris looks at his name tag, “(Y/N)”, he hums. Whispering his name, a little too loud, before quickly going quiet once he sees him look at him.

(Y/N) raises a brow before giving a friendly smile. He finishes scanning and tells him his amount of money. Chris complies and gives him his amount before saying thank you, taking the bag from him. He stands there for a little bit after (Y/N) gives him his change. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what.

“Cool Eagle, thought those weren’t allowed in America as a pet?” (Y/N) says, leaning on his forearms a bit. Making eye contact with Chris.

Chris lets out a small chuckle, looking at his car parked across the street. Eagly screeches before flapping its wings. “Thanks, he’s my best friend, so I bring him everywhere I pretty much go.”

That gets a small chuckle from the cashier, causing a blush to form across Chris’s cheeks.

It’s a little weird for him, it’s no secret that Chris has slept with both men and women. He’s always been interested in both men and women, but he’s never thought about it until his dad called him out for it. He felt weird. But now that he’s really thinking about it, he doesn’t know how to feel. A part of him wants to explore that side of him, but the other half of him says it’s wrong.

He’s only felt this way about Harcourt for a while, but kind of gave up. Resorting to hookups again. The thought of an actual relationship never crossed his mind until he met her. But now, he really wants to try for an actual relationship.

Chris coughs into his fist before squeezing out a small thank you, finally broken out of his thoughts, ready to walk away before he’s stopped by the sound of the other male. Turning his head to look behind him in curiosity.

“Hey, how about me and you hang out sometime this week? I wouldn’t mind giving you my number, I love your taste in music!” (Y/N) says enthusiastically, quickly scribbling his number on a piece of paper before handing it over to Chris.

Chris looks over at the paper, a smile forming on his face.

“What do you say? We could talk more about our taste in music together and what not.” (Y/N) gets from behind the counter and stands closer to him. Holding out his hand.

“(Y/N), by the way. That’s my name if you didn’t know.” Chris grabs his hand and shakes it, responding with ‘Chris’.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind, what do you say Friday?” Chris lets go of his hand, already missing how it felt in his hand.

(Y/N) smiles and nods. “Call it a date then!”

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[ijustwant2write]

Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking. 

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying. 

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs. 

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed. 

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared. 

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired? 

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away. 

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.” 

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.” 

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne. 

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced. 

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

[marcodiazisatransgirl]

"pedophilia is a harmless fantasy" please get help you were groomed

1) by whom?

2) paedophilia is not a harmless fantasy. What people on the internet call paedophilia is 90% of the time, not actual paedophilia.

Here's some things: when you call someone a paedophile on the internet nowadays, you're trying to get a reaction. It's big scary buzzword that can't get argued against. It no longer means anything to be called a paedophile, because the word has lost meaning. There's actually a study somewhere which looks at tumblrs use of the word paedophile, you should look it up.

So the pro-censorship gang (whose morals seem to align perfectly with evangelical conservative christians), tosses around words like paedophilia and grooming such those words lose meaning, and suddenly real paedophiles, actual predators who actually prey on children--rather than, idk people who ship a 16 yo and an 18yo--slip through the cracks. The mud is being slung so wildly that when it actually hits a predator, a groomer, people don't notice. And when someone is actually being groomed, they've heard that word tossed at, say, an adult in fandom space who is clearly absolutely fine, and scoff.

So that's part a of this post - on to part b.

In 2016, Australia held a plebiscite, to see whether the country was overall in favour of gay marriage.

At the time, my grandmother, who knows that I'm queer, and who has always accepted me, and who has been atheist her entire life, fell victim to a conservative propaganda campaign. This campaign, designed by conservative christians, announced that if the Gays were allowed to get married, it was tantamount to legalising paedophilia. My grandmother told me to my face that she would be voting against gay marriage, because next they would legalise paedophilia.

Paedophilia as a reactionist is buzzword, has always been used against queer people. Gay people shouldn't be allowed to adopt, because they're perverts, and therefore related to paedophiles. Queer people shouldn't be allowed near their own children, near their nephews and neices, near their cousins and younger siblings. Because they are disgusting and perverted and basically paedophiles.

About 15 years ago, before ao3, there were very few safe spaces for gay fandom on the internet. I remember when any sort of mlm or wlw ship was considered M rated, simply by the fact of its existence. When gay people and ships were banned from fandom spaces because they were "disrespectful" and "disgusting". They still think trans headcanons and theories are these things, though not to the same extent, thankfully. It wasn't that long ago, because I am not ancient.

And here's another thing - the majority of fandom is straight. We see queerness because we exist in queer spaces, because we're lucky, and despite pressure from advertisers, tumblr has always been queer-friendly. But it's the absolute truth that the majority of fandom is cishet. There are studies about that too, look it up.

So how long before queers are the ones attacked again? How long before our shaky first steps into being morally ok is swept away by purity culture which, again, seems to have similar values to evangelical conservative christians. How long before you're called a paedophile for headcanoning a character as queer - because I can tell you it's already happening. It's just not overt yet.

How long until it's considered perverted just to think about the sexuality of a character, disgusting just to ship two men, or two women. How long until someone comes onto this blog and tells me I'm a pedophile for theorising a character who is a minor is trans. Oh wait - that's already happened. Multiple times.

And here's the thing - it's no going to be this sudden, ham-fisted swing to hate. If you lived it first hand you know these old moderators always proclaimed they "weren't homophobic". They just believed queer culture had its "place".

So no, I don't believe paedophilia is harmless. But the conversation has never really been about paedophilia.

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Quiet Room

- Chapter 6 - ao3 - (previous tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5)

The Lan sect’s rules said Learning comes first, and that was because learning was the root of all things.

Humans were changeable and ever-changing, molded by their heritage and their environment; it was through careful education that they learned to comprehend goodness – it was only through constant learning that they could keep themselves walking on the path of righteousness.

Learning from books, learning from others, learning from one’s own mistakes; it didn’t matter.

What was important was that you couldn’t stop learning.

You had to keep moving forward.

Lan Wangji had for some time entertained the thought that his life had stopped when Wei Wuxian’s had. It had felt as though it had: it felt as if his heart had been irrevocably shattered, like a priceless vase that had once contained all his tender feelings – all those feelings that, lacking their container, would now slip through his fingers forever, leaving him as empty as a soulless puppet. He’d thought he was doomed never to love again, never to learn again, all his mind consumed with nothing by memories.

He’d been wrong, of course.

Even with Wei Wuxian gone, he was still learning.

There were his recent meditations on the subject of silence and noise, for one.

There were his wards, for another.

Lan Sizhui was a polite and thoughtful child, inquisitive but a little shy and hesitant, a little fearful to assert himself – a little too quiet, in a way that Lan Wangji was starting to be able to recognize as being not good, a silence and reticence born of concern and anxiety rather than genuine introversion. Luckily, there was also Lan Jingyi, who was and had always been the liveliest and most spirited of children, and yet he, too, was just a little bit too loud in a way that reflected his own method of displaying anxiety, another startling realization that was brand new.

Lan Wangji had always associated quiet with reserve and self-control, noise with carelessness and recklessness, but being in the controlled chaos of Qinghe and really sincerely listening to it, accepting it, came with its own set of revelations. He found that there were people who were naturally loud and those that made themselves be loud, just as there were those who were quiet and those who were forced into quietude. Lan Jingyi worried just as much as the next person, but he displaced those feelings through distraction rather than through the force of his willpower, taking on the role of clown or hero as suited each moment, unafraid to cast himself in the role of aggressor if it would allow Lan Sizhui the chance to play the mediator. The subconscious division of roles allowed Lan Sizhui to feel useful and in control, reducing his anxiety, while Lan Jingyi got to feel taken care of, which reduced his own – it was good, in a way, but after some consideration Lan Wangji carefully took them both in hand and told them that they would need to be more thoughtful about it.

Lan Sizhui could not, should not, always have to be the peacemaker, always yielding and kind and gentle and quiet: he deserved to be loud, too. He deserved to be assertive, to be heard, to feel entitled to take up space regardless of his utility to those around him. He should never feel like he had to pay in service for the right to exist.

And by the same token, Lan Jingyi shouldn’t feel burdened to always have to be the one to take the first step, always acting as the driving force, the loud and opinionated one. He should have the opportunity, and the obligation, to think through what he was doing or saying, to be thoughtful and careful, to sometimes yield if he wished; he should be granted space of his own to make sure that his actions were what he wished them to be rather than some impulse.

Lan Wangji only wished he’d had the wisdom to tell Wei Wuxian the same thing while he’d been alive.

He’d been so short-sighted when he was younger, at first unable to recognize how he felt about the man and then unable to figure out how to speak with him – he’d been unable to break his own habitual silence, and equally unable to see the depths concealed in Wei Wuxian’s brash arrogance, especially towards the end. Like Lan Jingyi, Wei Wuxian’s reckless courage was genuine, especially in the happy days of their youth; like Lan Jingyi, when things got bad, Wei Wuxian had taken refuge in more of the same, building himself walls made of noise that were designed to keep everyone out.

Wei Wuxian might have been noisy and loud, right to the very end, but in his own way he’d been just as alone as Lan Wangji in his excess of quiet.  

The next generation, Lan Wangji thought fiercely, would do better.

He felt comforted by that thought.

The children were chewing over Lan Wangji’s words as they walked along the outmost ramparts of the Unclean Realm, already inured to the glittering barrier that hung in their sky, full of arrays and inscriptions – they were accompanying Lan Wangji on his daily walk.

The Nie sect’s doctors had a very different regimen for curing illnesses than the Lan sect’s, he’d found. Thirty-three strikes of the discipline whip: in both places he’d gotten stitched back up, but while the Lan sect doctors had allowed him to retreat into seclusion, prescribing medicine and rest and self-reflection, the Nie sect doctors insisted on coupling medicine and meditation with exercise. Intermittent and gradual exercise, meant to increase flexibility and reduce muscle atrophy – it wasn’t really that different from what Lan Wangji had been left to do on his own back at home, but he found that it was easier to struggle against his stubborn body when he had company to encourage him to take that extra step beyond his limits, their voices pushing him when his own willpower was insufficient. Even the silent presence of the two children, walking beside him, helped him find the reason to keep going.

Truly, there was much to consider on the subject of quiet and noise, of loud and soft, of loneliness and isolation and how no amount of either introversion nor extroversion could alone save you from them.

Lan Wangji was still thinking it over when he heard a new noise.

It was also an old noise, painfully familiar from all those days of war – before he even consciously identified what the sound was, his back had straightened, his legs sinking into a prepared pose, his mind already summoning his spiritual energy to the forefront in case he needed to defend himself.

Cultivators, flying on swords at speed.

Lan Wangji looked up and saw them: men and women both, a small group – a forward scouting troop, small enough to be subtle and sneak ahead to see what was happening but large enough to ensure someone would be able to return to the main force and warn them if they did find something.

They were dressed in the colors of Yunmeng Jiang, and it was Jiang Cheng leading them.

Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

He had not seen Jiang Cheng since the massacre at the Nightless City, although he’d heard the stories of how he had turned against his own shixiong and led the greatest of the forces that besieged the Burial Mounds. He’d decided then that he’d never wanted to see Jiang Cheng ever again – he hadn’t been able to comprehend how Jiang Cheng could do a thing like that to Wei Wuxian, who he’d loved.

He still didn’t understand, but he thought, perhaps, that he ought to be a little less hasty in judging others by his own standards.

He’d done enough of that.

“Hanguang-jun!” Jiang Cheng called, seeing him, and pulled ahead of all the other Jiang sect cultivators, leaving them hanging back warily. Lan Wangji turned to face him, conscious of the two young children still clinging to his hands and now half-hiding behind his robes – conscious, too, of the shimmering but translucent barrier that divided them from Jiang Cheng, the barrier that had been raised to protect the Unclean Realm from Lan Wangji’s own brother and all the mistakes he had made, well-meaning as they were. “Hanguang-jun, good, you can tell me, what is the meaning of…”

Jiang Cheng trailed off, his eyes suddenly wide and almost bulging from the force of how hard he was staring at Lan Wangji.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji said politely in greeting – or, well, politely enough.

“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng said in return, his voice sounding strangled. “What…happened?”

Far too much to explain, so Lan Wangji didn’t, just waited for Jiang Cheng to continue with a more specific question.

“I mean, uh. The beacon went off,” Jiang Cheng said. He was still gawking, looking as though he were about to fall off his sword any second. “The – you know the one, the one that shows when a sect’s barrier defenses have been activated. I thought...”

He’d assumed there was an invasion, Lan Wangji realized, and had rushed over at once to try to help forestall it. It was a reasonable assumption, and a noble response: having once lost everything without being able to rely on the help of others, Jiang Cheng now sought to be the help that he had not had.

It was the sort of thing a righteous person would do, and in line with what Lan Wangji thought he’d known of Jiang Cheng’s character.

And yet…Jiang Cheng had still turned his back on Wei Wuxian.

Time and time again, he’d turned away fro him.

“I came to find out what happened, why they put up the shield,” Jiang Cheng continued. “I brought people with me to help, though I left them back a ways so it wouldn’t be an insult. And now I’m here and – and you’re here – and you’re…just…it’s…Lan Wangji, what happened to your forehead ribbon?”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows. “Is that your primary concern?”

Jiang Cheng waved his hands around, almost flailing, and Lan Wangji couldn’t quite help but feel a sudden stab of amusement – and then of sorrow, because the flailing was almost painfully familiar. He had seen Wei Wuxian do much the same when he encountered something unexpected, whether some threat or some new maneuver by the Wen sect or, in one notable instance, the unanticipated appearance of a fish in a place where one would not normally expect fish to be.

“I have taken a leave of absence from the Lan sect,” Lan Wangji finally explained, deciding to be magnanimous and take pity on his former comrade in arms. “The Nie sect has permitted me to remain with them while I determine my next course of action. As for the shield, there is no imminent invasion. The situation is – complicated.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “You don’t say!”

Still, the explanation seemed to help steady him, somewhat, and Lan Wangji observed that Jiang Cheng did not look his best: tired, with circles under his eyes and an unhealthy skin tone. Too much work, too little rest, and probably nightmares…because of what had happened to Wei Wuxian, perhaps? But if so, why had he done it in the first place?

“I cannot let you in,” Lan Wangji added, even though technically he had one of the only remaining guest tokens that still functioned. Jiang Cheng nodded, seemingly having expected that. “I can escort you to the sect leader’s quarters to have your request for admission approved.”

That the person approving the request would probably be Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji did not say – not so much out of caution, which would probably be justified, but rather out of a completely inexplicable urge to see Jiang Cheng start flailing once again upon finding out.

Was this how Wei Wuxian felt all the time?

Interesting.

He began to walk again, the children at his sides slowly coming out, and Jiang Cheng did him the courtesy of not mentioning how slow and stiff he was, although Lan Wangji thought he remembered enough of Jiang Cheng’s mannerisms to interpret the twisted grimace on his face as he glanced over time and time again as a look of concern.

After a little while in which Lan Wangji walked and Jiang Cheng floated alongside him on his sword, the Jiang sect cultivators lagging behind by a respectable distance, the children getting over their fear to start looking around again, Jiang Cheng finally cleared his throat.

“There’s a medicinal blend of herbs that can counteract the anti-clotting effects of the discipline whip,” he said. Lan Wangji glanced at him: Jiang Cheng was staring forward, not looking at him at all any more. “It makes it heal faster. I can pass the prescription along to the Nie sect’s pharmacists, if you like.”

Jiang Cheng had also been struck by the discipline whip, Lan Wangji suddenly remembered. It had been a matter of deep embarrassment for him during the war, making him reluctant to remove clothing even when they were rancid with blood and poisonous fumes.

“Thank you,” he said, and for some reason the children took that as their cue that Jiang Cheng was actually all right and burst out in a flood of questions.

Lan Jingyi wanted to know how Jiang Cheng’s clothing had gotten to be such a vivid shade of purple, while Lan Sizhui was more curious about his sword and how shiny it was – the concerns of children, unburdened by the memories or concerns of adults. Their questions made Jiang Cheng smile, and Lan Wangji thought briefly of the orphaned Jin Ling, who had been temporarily given to Jiang Cheng’s custody to pick up some of the traditions of his maternal sect. A fancy way of saying that the Jin sect wanted him out of the way for a few years until he was worth teaching their own ways to, but Lan Wangji suspected Jiang Cheng would have taken any excuse at all to remain close to his kin.

“What, now children aren’t too noisy for you?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Wangji, and for the first time it occurred to Lan Wangji that the tossed out words, broken off and abrupt, might be meant as a friendly tease.

“I am reevaluating my relationship with silence,” he said, and Jiang Cheng smirked, amused.

“I bet you are,” he said. “Nie Huaisang alone would drive a man to distraction…”

Lan Jingyi laughed and clapped and that, and, inspired, Lan Sizhui followed suit.

And then, suddenly, Jiang Cheng frowned.

“A-Yuan,” he said, and Lan Wangji was suddenly cold from head to toe, the chattering of the children suddenly too loud in his ears: he had forgotten that Jiang Cheng had also visited the Burial Mounds. “That’s – that’s A-Yuan, isn’t it?”

“Jiang Wanyin…” Lan Wangji started, his voice sticking in his throat, then trailed off. He did not know what he could say that would work to convince Jiang Cheng that he was wrong when he was right, but neither could he admit to the truth. Even if Nie Mingjue had been kind enough to allow Lan Wangji to come to the Nie sect to stay, and to bring the two children with him, that had been under the premise that they were Lan sect children. If he ever found out that Lan Sizhui had been born surnamed Wen…

Nie Mingjue would not hurt a child, he was too righteous for that. But he might not be inclined to let that child grow up in his sect, either.

Jiang Cheng’s face was twisted in a strange sort of way, as if he couldn’t decide to be angry or relieved. “I thought he’d died,” he murmured, more to himself. “I thought…what is that?”

Lan Wangji was momentarily confused by the question, focused as he was by the terrifying implications of Jiang Cheng’s discovery, but then he saw that Jiang Cheng’s gaze went further into the distance.

He turned to look, then felt twist of unpleasantness deep in his belly: there was his brother in the sky, flying to the main gate on Shuoyue, and beside him was Jin Guangyao.

Why did you have to bring him? Lan Wangji thought, unhappy, but he already knew the answer to that. His brother trusted Jin Guangyao. Why wouldn’t he bring him?

If only he would trust the rest of them as much as he trusted that liar.

“We can discuss Lan Sizhui later,” Lan Wangji said, careful to emphasize both the surname and the courtesy name he’d given him – painfully obvious now that he thought about it, though at the time it had seemed only appropriate, the only name he could bestow that fit – and quickened his steps. “Now that my brother has arrived, things will become difficult.”

He wondered, a little bitterly, if his brother had even noticed that he was gone, or if he had been so thoroughly forgotten in his enforced ‘seclusion’ that it hadn’t even been thought of as a possibility.

“Lan Wangji!”

Lan Wangji came to a stop at Jiang Cheng’s shout. Suddenly full of anger, he turned his head back – surely Jiang Cheng didn’t hate Wei Wuxian so much that he wouldn’t let the matter of a small child go, even in the midst of a crisis?

Jiang Cheng was pointing into the distance. Strangely enough, it was not in the direction of the main gate, where Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were even now landing, but somewhere even further beyond.

“Do you see it?” Jiang Cheng demanded, and his eyes were suddenly wild, his breathing disordered; he seemed far more disturbed than he had when he’d recognized A-Yuan. “Lan Wangji, tell me that you see it!”

Utterly lost, Lan Wangji focused his gaze on the far horizon. It was the same scenery as he’d seen there the past few days, the interspersed richness of the low valleys that quickly arced up into the mountains that surrounded the Unclean Realm. There was nothing there that was unusual…

Lan Wangji spotted a very faint glimmer.

Sun, he thought, the reflection of sun – sun off steel.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t on the ramparts of the Unclean Realm but standing beside Jiang Cheng on a rough-hewn fortress barely worthy of the name, watching the horizon grimly as the damned Wen scout’s flare did its work and the amassed forces of Wen Chao’s troops began to move inexorably in their direction. They would come, he had known, and they would kill them all if they could; it would take everything they had to stop them, and to survive long enough just to retreat once again.

For some of them to survive.

“Invasion,” he heard someone say, their voice hoarse, and only a moment later realized it was himself who had spoken. “Invasion…it’s an army!”

“It’s the Jin sect,” Jiang Cheng said, staring blankly as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. For once, Lan Wangji understood him completely; he was similarly shocked. “They’re wearing gold, you can see it from here…the Jin sect has sent their armies here? How could they even think to dare? Chifeng-zun will annihilate them!”

Lan Wangji’s throat worked, and for a moment he felt drowned in the quiet once more, his voice not wanting to cooperate with him, his entire being willing or even wanting to return to the solace of seclusion if it would only mean that he wouldn’t have to hear the horrible din of war once more. But he was not a coward, and would do what he must – even speak of things that felt impossible to be spoken.

“That complicated situation I mentioned,” he said, and Jiang Cheng turned to look at him. “My brother has either conspired with or was duped into assisting Lianfang-zun in an attempt on Chifeng-zun’s life through destabilizing his qi and inducing a qi deviation.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw dropped. “They did what?!”

“Chifeng-zuns remains alive, but is confined to his bed,” Lan Wangji continued, ignoring the interjection. “Nie Huaisang was the one who ordered the shield raised, saying that there might be an attack – I thought he was overreacting, but apparently not.”

“If Jin Guangshan can take over the Unclean Realm while Nie Mingjue is incapacitated, he can say that the incapacitation is worse than it really is,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly getting it. Lan Wangji had forgotten how much he enjoyed working alongside those from Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian most of all but also in his absence Jiang Cheng, who was smart and did not require too many words to understand. “Everyone knows Nie Huaisang’s a good-for-nothing – it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the Jin sect to claim that they came here at the invitation of the Nie sect to ‘rescue’ them, and remained in order to manage the sect on their behalf. Better that than have Chifeng-zun recover and come after you in vengeance!”

Lan Wangji nodded.

“But surely they didn’t think they’d be able to get away with it? Even if they could manage it for a while, as soon as the confusion cleared up, all the other sects would throw a fit…”

“Jin Ling,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng blanched, seeming to realize the problem at once. His beloved nephew legally belonged to the Jin sect; if he dared to protest their actions, wouldn’t they be sure to take him away? As for the Lan sect, Lan Xichen would have been implicated through his actions – they could hold his participation over his head, forcing him to pick between supporting them and losing face for the whole sect, which would in turn weaken it. And that was assuming that Jin Guangyao didn’t somehow manage to talk Lan Xichen into thinking it was all for the best regardless…

There were only four Great Sects left, now. If the Lan and Jiang did nothing, who would be left to stand up for the Nie?

“I have to get inside. Nie Huaisang will need my support,” Lan Wangji said, but instead looked down at the children beside him.

“Go,” Lan Sizhui said, releasing his hand and stepping back away from him. “I’ll take Jingyi and hide in the room we’re staying in. You won’t need to worry about us – go, do what you need to!”

Jiang Cheng flinched as if he’d been struck.

Lan Wangji glanced at him. “The Jin sect army,” he said. “However unlikely, there’s still a chance that we are misinterpreting their motives.”

“I’ll go find out what I can,” Jiang Cheng agreed at once. “How many there are, what can be done…I’ll find out and report back.”

Lan Wangji tossed him the guest token he’d been given. “Be cautious,” he said. He still hadn’t forgiven Jiang Cheng for what he’d done in the Burial Mounds, but he was willing to wait until a better time to talk it over with him – now was not the time to try to gain understanding.

Jiang Cheng nodded and left at once, and Lan Wangji saw the children off, then hurried to do the same.

By the time he made it to the main hall, his brother and Jin Guangyao were already there, and Nie Huaisang was confronting them with nothing more than a fan gripped in white-knuckled hands and a glare.

“– dare you talk as if he’s gone mad, as if he can’t be trusted?” Nie Huaisang was shouting. “You should know how seriously we take such words here!”

“It is because of that that we are worried,” Lan Xichen said, and now it was Lan Wangji’s turn to flinch. His brother’s voice sounded just the way it always did, comforting in its familiarity: he sounded calm and patient, thoughtful and wise, sure of himself. He sounded as if he knew better than anyone else what was right and what was wrong. “Huaisang, you don’t know how much your brother has been worried about suffering the way your father did. He knows that qi deviations can be subtle as well as harsh – he understands that his reason might be the first to go –”

“And so you took it upon yourself to decide that for him?” Nie Huaisang sneered. “You keep saying that he understands, that he would understand, all that. But that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

“Huaisang, please,” Jin Guangyao said, his voice just as gentle as always. “You know we only want what’s best for your brother.”

“Do you?” Nie Huaisang said, but he was still looking at Lan Xichen. “You knew he hated the quiet room, er-ge. You knew that he’d never wanted anything to do with it – it’s not like that was anything new! That was something he’d said repeatedly, year after year, month after month, for his entire life. You knew how he felt about it, and you decided to ignore what he wanted in favor of what you wanted. How is that wanting what’s best for him?”

“I was only concerned for his health,” Lan Xichen said, sounding injured by the accusation. “I had nothing but good intentions…”

“Your intentions are immaterial compared to your actions,” Lan Wangji said, and they turned to look at him, both of them surprised – maybe they really hadn’t noticed he’d left the Cloud Recesses.

Well, he thought bitterly: they’d notice now.

He took a step into the room, then another.

“Your actions are this,” he said, ignoring the way his brother stared at his forehead, unadorned by the ribbon that had been there ever since he’d been a small child, receiving it for the first time from his uncle as a precious gift. “You did not trust or respect your elder brother’s word. You disregarded his decision, treating him like a child who can’t be trusted to make up his own mind – you put your own desires ahead of his, and in doing so, betrayed him. Did you really think he’d thank you for it?”

Did you think I’d thank you one day for authorizing our sect’s attack on the Burial Mounds without ever having to explain yourself? Even our uncle respected me enough to tell me at once what he had done and let me decide how I felt about it, accepting the consequences of his actions!

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen murmured. “You’re still healing, you shouldn’t be wandering around…where is your self-restraint?”

Where is your forehead ribbon, he meant, and Lan Wangji shook his head.

“Wangji, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said, and Lan Wangji stiffened at the unasked-for intimacy of the address. “Whatever da-ge said to you, whatever he did, you cannot allow others to guide you by filling your heart with incomplete echoes of what you have lost. You will never forgive yourself.”

Lan Wangji was so furious that he could not speak. Was Jin Guangyao implying that Nie Mingjue had, what, seduced him? That Lan Wangji held his love for Wei Wuxian so cheap that he would have his head turned by the first person willing to make up to him in such a fashion?

“I should hope you know my da-ge better than that, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said coldly, still speaking only to Lan Xichen. “Or is this something else where you will believe the words of that lying dog over everyone else and the evidence of your own reason to boot?”

“Huaisang, that is unwontedly cruel, and uncalled for,” Lan Xichen said, tearing his eyes away from Lan Wangji. “Whatever Wangji has decided, I do not blame Mingjue-xiong for it.”

Implying, Lan Wangji supposed, that it was Lan Wangji that was to blame for it.

“Put the blame where it belongs,” he said stiffly, staring at his brother as if looking at a stranger. “Was I to leave Chifeng-zun where I found him, half-dead and dying in our jingshi where you left him at Lianfang-zun’s incitement?”

“You think I don’t recognize that I’ve done wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “I will speak to Mingjue-xiong and apologize – I will explain my reasoning and let him decide how I can make it up to him. But please, there is no call for you to be cruel to A-Yao. Do not blame him for my mistakes.”

“What about for his lies?” Lan Wangji asked. He took a breath, sharp and unhappy, and suddenly it was desperately, urgently necessary to know the truth. “Brother, tell me you didn’t know. Tell me you weren’t in on it – that you didn’t try to kill Mingjue-xiong in order to cover up your affair.”

“What, kill, you think I would try to…Wangji! Affair?” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and he seemed genuinely shocked. “No, Wangji, you’ve misunderstood entirely! It’s not like that at all. Mingjue-xiong and A-Yao, they were once lovers –”

“No, we weren’t,” Nie Mingjue said.

They all turned at once. He was standing at the door, all but clinging to the doorframe to keep himself standing; he was swathed in bandages and still stuck with needles. None of them had heard him or seen him approach – he must have heard them shouting and dragged himself over.

He sounded tired. He sounded quiet.

He looked at Lan Xichen.

“I was never Meng Yao’s lover,” he said. “Not now, not before, not ever. And Xichen…you knew that, didn’t you?”

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

This is a personal example for my last post (”You are allowed not to make sense”): 

I am attracted to people regardless of gender - but for a long time, I felt much more comfortable with and confident in my attraction to women. 

I had crushes on both boys and girls when I was younger - but all the “serious” ones were on girls. The boys I crushed on were, for the most part, celebrities or fictional people. And as an adult, all my long-term relationships have been with women. In fact, it was difficult to actually imagine ever being in a relationship with a man. So, am I bisexual with a strong preference for women or bisexual but not open to dating men... or am I actually not bisexual at all? Maybe my attraction to men is too weak to count? Most people see me as a lesbian, anyway, due to my dating history, so maybe I should just stick to that word? I struggled with those questions quite a lot.

But ever since I came to terms with my gender identity and came out as a trans man, there has been a noticeable shift. I started to notice how strongly I am attracted to men. It became so much easier to envision a relationship with a man - I realized the difficult part wasn’t “me dating a man”, it was “me as a woman dating a man”. I couldn’t imagine that because, well, it simply wasn’t true. I wouldn’t be a woman dating a man, I would be a man dating a man... and that’s actually a pretty nice thing to imagine! 

Today, I can say I am bi and don’t have a preference at all - I am not looking for a relationship but if I was, I would be equally open to dating a man or a woman. 

Some of you may read this and think “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. You have always been a bi man but you needed to figure out the “man” part before you could fully embrace all parts of your bisexuality”. But for most people I know offline, it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. To them, it sounds like “A lesbian woman suddenly decided she’d prefer to be a gay man”... and when you put it like that, it really sounds confusing and messy and strange, doesn’t it? Sometimes it gets to me and I find myself agreeing: It is weird. So weird!  

So, do I need to explain everything I just told you everytime I talk about my bisexuality, just so I don’t confuse people? Do I owe other people an explanation? Do I owe myself an explanation? 

I decided that my answer to all of that is No. So what if it doesn’t make sense? I don’t need to make sense. I am a bi man now - whatever I was in the past or whatever people saw in me in the past, that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past. I am not a novel that needs to follow a logical plot, my life isn’t a puzzle that needs to create one perfect picture. I am a human being. I am allowed to not make any sense. 

And so are you. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad