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SHE MAY BE . . A BAG OF TROUBLE / SYPHILIS - GONORRHEA. 1940. By Christian. Poster.
#illustration#poster#public health#sexism#art#typography#psychology#1940s#vintage#retro#health#culture#sociology#pop art
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#nerd culture#geek culture#comics#marvel#MCU#pop culture#inclusivity#diversity#anti racism#anti sexism#rndm
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The STAR TREK fandom are some of the most sexist and hypocritical pop culture fans I have ever encountered. They love pointing out the flaws for "STAR TREK VOYAGER" and "STAR TREK DISCOVERY", even to the point of being incredibly petty. Yet, at the same time, they have this tendency to turn a blind eye to the flaws of the other TREK shows. I would have included that "STAR TREK ENTERPRISE" was also heavily criticized. But now, these same fans are claiming that it was so much better than "VOYAGER" and "DISCOVERY".
I realize art and entertainment are subjective, but this is really ridiculous. I'm at the point where I find nothing but contempt toward the STAR TREK franchise.
#pop culture fans#anti star trek#anti star trek fandom#sexism#hypocrisy#star trek voyager#star trek discovery#star trek enterprise#anti star trek franchise
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This is a gorgeous video essay by Pop Culture Detective (PCD). Highly recommend a watch! PCD notes while there are many legitimate criticism of Barbie’s feminism, or lack thereof, he doesn’t address those questions, but instead uses Barbie as a primer to beautifully explain how patriarchal ideas don’t benefit men or women.
It has such brilliant editing, research, script and visuals. I teared up at the end when he mentioned how important solidarity is between men and women as a way to end sexism and how men should challenge other men on sexism.
#pop culture detective#barbie movie#fuck the patriarchy#fight the patriarchy#margot robbie#greta gerwig#Ryan gosling#video essay#breadtube#end violence against women#toxic masculinity#intersectionality#socialism#solidarity#feminism#Youtube#protest#masculinity#bell hooks#misogyny#sexism#man vs bear#menslib#warner bros#he’s just ken#barbenheimer#patriarchy
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#i hate how once you start noticing stereotyping and discriminating language / actions#you cant stop noticing it. and then its everywhere#and you dont know how it could ever be fixed because its so pervasive.#i cant even think of how it could be fixed. what sort of cultural shift would there have to be?#but. weve come so far already surely we can keep going.#originally this was about sexism but so many other examples keep popping into my head.#fatphobia. transphobia. racism. ablism (specifically toward the intellectually disabled). etc.#BUT. i was reading fics from like. 10 years ago and people were jusf slinging around the r-slur#YOU DONT SEE THAT TODAY!!! ISNT THAT AWESOME!!#phwoo im rambling whoops#the work is endless but so is the hope 👍#neither here nor there#letters to emily
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The holy trinity of "men, the media, and toxic fans have pushed women to the brink" albums
#paramore#hayley williams#after laughter#britney#britney spears#blackout#taylor swift#the tortured poets department#fame#media#pop culture#mysogyny#sexism#depression#toxic fans
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i found something for the girl dinner and etc. folks
"Susan J. Douglas (2010) has argued that contemporary [media] operates on the notion of enlightened sexism, which is a 'response, deliberate or not, to the perceived threat of a new gender regime. It insists that women have made plenty of progress because of feminism - indeed, full equality has allegedly been achieved - so now it's okay, even amusing, to resurrect sexist stereotypes of girls and women'"
from the chapter "As Seen on TV" in the text Gender and Pop Culture by Jenn Brandt (2019)
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the realest
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No you're not
#its always sk funny when this happens#💛#tmnt 1987#liveblog#this episode is the first major miss of the series for me#like when i get into older cartoons like this esp very mainstream/pop culture ones i Expect period typical bigotry#but like. what the fuck happened here . theres so much casual racism and sexism in this one specific episode#plus the whole thing april has a very . uncomfortable undertone#help me NDJWNJD#hopefully the next few episodes are less painful to watch
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LIVE: Anti-woke nerds boycotting the Barbie movie
#barbie#barbie movie#barbie 2023#margot robbie#ryan gosling#nerd#sexism#chauvinism#patriarchy#south park#memes#live#barbenheimer#pop culture#woke#wokeness#nerdolas#nerdist#anti woke
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What a strange timeline to live in, where minorities, ethnic and otherwise, are really hitting their stride in representation across media and the starkest contrast of bubbling reactionary backlash is not even concealed.
Watching some of the press for the latest round of awards has made it clear we are not in the post-racial world some seem to think we've arrived at. One memorable comment on a video of Michelle Yeoh discussing the importance of giving women, ethnic minorities, and other narratives a chance to succeed in a still very ethnocentric landscape was that now we can "stop the emotional blackmail" of supporting and praising these "foreign" films--as if they did not speak to a broader domestic experience of the immigrant, working class, and generational or cultural gaps and that it's simply a brilliant adventure of a movie. The failure of imagination and empathy continues to underline the need for more quality representation to widen the availability and diversity of perspectives.
The critical success of Everything Everywhere All At Once is just one stepping stone, building on decades of a trickle of roles and stories that were often undermined by the need to bend their appeal into something that was unrecognizable to the experiences of the actual people living it. Even some of the most absurdist gags in the film are direct references to some niche jokes and tropes from the last half century of Asian pop culture (I'm looking at you hotdog hands).
Films like Crazy Rich Asians and Shang-Chi, always struck me as strange hybrids because the draw for a broader audience seemed to rest a lot on their source material while banking on many younger Asian American (and Canadian) faces. The real draw in the community has been in stories centered on experiences as immigrants and the children of immigrants, all while including incredible seasoned actors like Tony Leung Chiu-wai and Michelle Yeoh. Despite their long careers, their success and name recognition outside of their popular reach in Asian cinema has been limited arbitrarily despite their obvious talent. James Hong is just one example of the limitations of typecasting, which has followed him for nearly seven decades. Even into the 2010s it was easy to recognize the relatively small circle of seasoned Asian American actors that would reappear across media to fill bit roles, and fewer still taking on main or even regular supporting characters.
The last time it felt like there was a domestic breakthrough for Asian stories was in the late 1980s into the 1990s when films like Joy Luck Club garnered some attention. Taiwanese directors like Ang Lee; Hong Kong New Wave in the films of Tsui Hark, Stanley Kwan, John Woo, and Wong Kar-wai; and the action films in the stream of Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and Jet Li while popular in the Western sphere seemed to translate to limited individual crossover into international success. The strengthening of the perpetually "foreign" as a label became even harder to shed as a barrier to entry for the international audience and those creating the work.
It seems as though it has only been with the 2000s Mainland Chinese domestic film boom, as well as renewed popular interest and access to broader Asian pop culture, has there been some momentum to inform and capture a updated view from the perspective of the wider diaspora. For many of us, seeing more of ourselves in the world is exactly the kind of healing we need and need to share with others.
#pop culture#representation#media#film#diaspora#asian american#writing#ethnic minorities#racism#sexism#visibility
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https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/music/2024/05/16/heart-ann-nancy-wilson-50th-tour/
The Wilsons grew up in the Seattle suburbs, studying the Beatles like a sacred text. In 1966, they saw the Fab Four play the Seattle Coliseum but were frustrated by the screaming from all the other girls. “We were like, ‘Would you guys just shut up?’” said Nancy. “We were trying to take dictation. To see how it’s done.”
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I'd love to go to a drag performance (ideally perform in one BUT that'll come WAY later) but I have no one to go with and no way to get to one alone 🙃
#the person I would go with hates drag queens but in that way of ''oh i just hate how catty they are'' like bruh#your sexism and homophobia is showing (they're fine with drag kings and ''humble'' drag people)#there's a game/pop-cultured themed restaurant not too far from here that was gonna host a drag queen but i think i missed it#am cry#homo adaptionem#drag#drag performance#cw vent
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also re: the racial component of TS/fan base, if you haven't you should watch Alex Avila's video on Taylor Swift, I think it was really well done
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this is SO good. thank you SO much for this recommendation.
i really liked how avila noted how masterfully taylor blends authenticity and social normativity - "the reason taylor swift seems so authentic to young girls is because she's conforming to an image [of white patriarchal girlhood] that young women internalized from a young age." similarly, the popular feminism of 2014 (when 1989 was released) was flimsy and did not challenge patriarchal norms, and we see how she made feminism part of 1989's branding.
and he asks a question i often pose: is there anything subversive in idolizing the most popular cultural object? does poptimism (the critique of pop music as a serious form of art) simply reinforce existing power structures??
taylor swift and whiteness
understanding how someone becomes a legend and icon means understanding how they challenge, but also reinforce, the biases in society, which includes race, class, gender, and so forth. and "there IS something deeply white about [taylor's] image" (1:18:33). her image is cultural whiteness! taylor swift's relatability (which is and has always been part of her brand), her social capital, her social normativity, is directly tied to the neoliberal racial philosophy that, instead of calling whiteness superior, establishes whiteness as the norm (1:21:23).
millennials want celebrities to be morally pure. this is a mistake.
also - LOVE that he points out that millennials don't judge female celebrities by their sexuality or modesty anymore, but instead they judge based on political awareness, which is just another way of continuing the "patriarchal history of regulating narratives around women's actions" (1:42:39). avila focuses specifically on millennials here, cautioning us not to consider this a a sign of true political engagement from millennials. as he points out, systems of oppression adapt to our ever-changing culture. when we try to 'cancel' or 'hold a celebrity accountable' for their ideologies or missteps, sometimes it's because they're truly terrible, and other times it's because we hold women to "unrealistic standards of purity." ie, this isn't necessarily real political engagement, it is just another example of judging women. often it's both (pointing out missteps, and also being sexist.)
whiteness again
avila goes on to discuss how white women have long been held up as virtuous, moral centers of american families - and while this is a racist and sexist practice, given that woc aren't seen as virtuous, it also lays the foundation for why white women in particular dominate conversations about politics in the public sphere. it is an Event every time a white celebrity frames their political awakening as a personal, spiritual journey of self-realization. yes, this act is important, because women must learn about their own oppression, and talk about it, in order to educate others.
but when taylor (or any other famous white woman) frames politics solely through the personal, it relieves her of the obligation to critique systemic issues. her own political awakening is all that matters - she must prove her own political purity (instead of sexual purity, as before.) there is a deep problem in society demanding this, rather than larger systemic change, but we'll get to that later.
this personal political purity awakening earns her a lot of goodwill, but her resistance ends with herself. and this is a pattern that we see happen all the time, in what robin james calls "neoliberal resistance discourses" in pop: someone is damaged by oppression (sexism), she overcomes it brilliantly with an awakening (miss americana/lover/denouncing trump era), and she absorbs this goodwill into her brand. these individual damages and awakenings supposedly symbolize society's own awakening and resilience(!). (1:52:48)
🚨 some readers might be getting tired/annoyed at this; i can hear y'all saying "well, what do you even WANT from her omg!!!" just stay with me here. 🚨
she holds a mirror up to society, tho
what avila so brilliantly points out is that... this cycle of damages and resilience isn't helpful. it goes nowhere! and we are all at the mercy of the same patterns as taylor. it's not about taylor, it's about us, and how capitalism commodifies everything, including social movements! including personal 'goodness'! a neoliberal system wants individuals to care about their individual choices and looking like good individuals; it encourages the use of "purity tests" and "commodified algorithmic social movements" to discourage challenges to systemic issues (reminds me of the celebrity blackout situation earlier this year, and conversations we have about politics, well, daily on here.) and the pattern of a person failing politically as an individual is part of this machine. if we're too busy policing individuals for their purity, we won't ever organize together for shared material goals. unfortunately, unlike taylor swift, most of us are not extremely powerful, wealthy, and influential as individuals. she does have more power than us in this regard.
taylor as cultural hegemony
anyway, avila goes on to talk about how taylor had this musical renaissance with folklore, and became more honest about her masterminding her own career in midnights. she has shown herself not just to be a musical chameleon, but a cultural one as well, positioning herself as white teenage purity when the culture called for it (circa 2008-2010), neoliberal pop feminism (1989 -> lover), pandemic escapism (folkmore) - and the culture has become part of her brand, part of her music. music that is already heavily wrapped up in her own life. she is the brand she is the culture. of course she put the work in, and not just anyone could do this. but imo, her whiteness (which, again, gives her this "default" "neutral" background to work with) is part of this success. "sure, she's challenged the institution but all in the effort to become the new face of musical hegemony" (2:06:25.) she challenges systems to assimilate into them, or create them in a way that requires assimilation.
of course, this is all based on her REAL experiences, her REAL life. she is living her own life, and also living it in this metacognitive way that mirrors culture.
but we don't have to hate taylor, actually!
and MOST interestingly, avila closes out by suggesting: it's not actually super healthy to always be suspicious and critical of art (2:17:24.) yes, there is a long political history of "paranoid reading," of critique based on marx, freud, and nietzsche's philosophies. it is the basis of A LOT of our frameworks for thinking about the world, including art.
as i've said before, it's interesting to discuss taylor or celebrities because they hold a mirror up to society. but we can't just relentlessly critique ourselves - after all, the critique is supposed to protect us from being bad! the critique is what keeps us good! and it's why we project so much onto them (the celebrities, or "bad" people.)
this video dove into a term that may be new to a lot of people (i only learned of it recently) - "reparative reading." rather than relentlessly critique art or what-have-you, engage with it in ways that is "affirmative, creative, and caring." this does not mean you toss out critical readings - reparative readings can coexist, and give us hope, optimism, feelings of beauty/appreciation, and affirmation.
for example, it's why -while i enjoy critiquing taylor (or what she Represents) - i am also here to just... have fun. i don't want to linger 24/7 on her emissions, or what she hasn't done, or who she's friends with. it's also why, as a fan of color, i hate that she is often dismissed and minimized to "white musician making music for white women." i find affirmation in a lot of her music, regardless of her race; i find optimism and hope in the way women so deeply relate to her, and how queer fans (also like myself) relate to her! (which avila points out too 2:21:00.) it's why i stopped debunking stuff, because queerness - like any other aspect of the fandom - is such a critical, significant part of why her music is beloved. it's so important for people to recognize that she is more than just 'music for straight white heterosexual cisgender women.'
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this is a relationship, that i don’t think anyone saw coming – cl16
masterlist
Summary: The one where you and Charles think you are successfully fooling everyone on the grid, when in reality you are the ones being fooled.
Pairing: charles leclerc x merc!driver!reader
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: cursing, kissing, hiding a relationship (and doing it very badly), smut elements! (in one of the scenes, nothing penetrative), idiots to lovers, sexism and racism in motorsports, pop culture references (bad and many of them).
Request: “Hello! Can I request a charles leclerc imagine where the reader is a f1 driver and they try to hide their relationship from the paddock, but everyone knows and in the end they just reveal it. Thanks xx” + “this is not a request, but, can you use a dialogue from one of your favourite tv shows/series?”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! the title comes from an episode of the kardashians, but it was very popular on tiktok for a while so here you go! the request for this one was so good, and i had so much fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i do. the dialogue i used for the second request/promt is from season 1 episode 9 of suits, which is one of my absolute favourite tv series of all time (even though it has too many legal inaccuracies), and you can watch the scene from here. ALSO, because i can never choose one, i decided to use another dialogue from season 1 episode 18 of gilmore girls, and i think it is the best piece of television ever written, and you can watch it from here. there are a bunch of pop culture references in there, so if you can spot them, you are a star! thank you anons for your requests, and i hope you guys enjoy this one! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
Charles is not stupid, in fact, he prides himself in being smart. However, as one of his best friends are looking at him with an unamused glare, he suddenly fears that he might have been stupid when he was getting ready before arriving at the venue for the party tonight.
“You are not dressed,” Pierre drawls, “What are you wearing?”
“A suit?” Charles asks, confused as he looks at his friend’s attire. “What are you wearing?”
Pierre points to the outfit he’s wearing, which consists of brown pants with a linen shirt and a brown vest thrown over it, an annoyed look washes over his face as he explains, “I’m Indiana Jones, this is a costume party, Charles.”
“Why would you have a costume party when you’re turning 27?” Charles’ face scrunches up in even more confusion.
“Because it’s fun, and it’s my birthday.” Pierre rolls his eyes, “We have to do something about it; Kika, I need help!” He calls out to her girlfriend, who rushes into the room in a white dress and a very voluminous blonde wig.
“What’s wrong?” Kika asks, her eyes falling on Charles’ outfits as she groans disappointedly, “Who are you supposed to be?”
“I didn’t know!” Charles argues.
“Mate,” Pierre objects, “it was on the invitation; ‘Hollywood Icons’?”
“We can fix this,” Kika tries to offer Charles a supportive smile. “You could be… Patrick Bateman?”
Charles’ eyes widen with shock, “From ‘American Psycho’?”
“Morbid, Kiks,” Pierre shakes his head.
Kika shrugs, “He’s hot. What about Brad Pitt in ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith’?”
“Does he even wear a suit in that one?” Pierre asks, still shaking his head in thought.
Kika lets out a loud groan, “James Bond!”
“That could work–” Charles start saying at the same time Pierre objects, “The suit is not sharp enough.”
“Then give him a tie, Pierre.” Kika frowns. “God, the two of you are like children, not even the girls had this much trouble, and the two of us almost matched.”
You’re shivering when you finally arrive at the venue thanks to the thin trench coat thrown over your costume. You link your arm with Lily, who is holding Alex’s hand and the two of them are dressed up as Jack and Rose. “Why are we doing this, again?”
“Because we like Pierre, he is nice.” Lily turns to Alex to let him fix her ginger wig for her as she replies to you.
“I don’t know, I think I want to go back to the hotel.” You mumble, your hands nervously playing with the belt of your coat.
“Just give it a try, Y/N,” Alex smiles at you. “We’ll take you back if you’re still feeling nervous.”
You nod your head with a sigh as you let Lily pull you in towards the entrance of the apartment building. You’re too busy admiring the Italian architecture when you hear a squeal. “You guys made it!” Alex excuses himself to go greet some of the other drivers and you smile at Kika as she pulls you and Lily in for a hug at the same time as she chants, “I’m dying to see your guys’ costumes, show me, show me!”
You laugh softly as you take of your coat, pulling gasps from both of the girls looking over your outfit. “You both knew what my costume was going to be!” You whine, holding your coat close to your body.
“I didn’t know it was going to be –” Lily starts, looking at Kika for help.
“Tight,” Kika clears her throat, “it’s very tight, and your body looks amazing!”
“You’re literally a model, Kiks,” you mumble, “can we please focus on Lily and how historically accurate her costume is? Not to mention yours, I mean, Marilyn?”
“You look amazing, Lily.” Kika agrees, giving her a warm smile. “And thank you, Y/N.”
“Thank you, Kika,” she turns to you, “thank you, Y/N. I’m going to find Alex, meet you at the bar?”
“Sure, see you.” You tell her, smiling as she starts to walk towards the crowd.
“Let me take your coat,” Kika leans over you. “You should grab a drink before more people arrive, Pierre made sure to invite half of the city, it seems like.”
You thank her before she leaves to hang your coat, taking a deep breath as you start moving between dancing people, some of whom greet you as you make your way towards the bar. You give the bar tender a tight smile as you order yourself a gin and tonic, strawberry, of course. The first thing Charles notices about you is your hair, having memorised all the different tones mixed between your locks. His eyes travels down your body, his eyes linger particularly on your dress; the white bodice is connected to the tie dye skirt by a metal circle, and it is oh so tight, accentuating all your curves in the best way possible. His legs start to move towards you in their own volition when his eyes reach the leather thigh-high boots, his voice is thick as he approach you from your right. “Y/N.”
You look at him with your lips parted in shock, your voice coming out in a low breath. “Charles, you’re here.” You let him take one of your hands into his as you lock eyes with him. “I thought you were going to be in Monaco.”
“I was already in Italy for the car testing.” He explains, his fingers gently caress your inner wrist. “I’ve missed you. Were you back at home?”
“I’ve missed you too,” a smile takes over your face, “yes, I’m trying to get used to changing cities.”
“I’ll give you a private tour when we go back.” He offers, eliciting a giggle from you as you reach for your drink and take a sip from the straw. His breath hitches for a moment when he focuses too much on the way your red-painted lips close around the plastic, but he’s quick to shake it off. “Did you see the pictures on Twitter?”
“The ones with Frédéric?” You ask him and he nods in return. The pictures he is referring to being his new team principle giving your four-year-old niece some daisies. There is a teasing smile on your lips as you say, “Don’t worry, Charles, I’m not coming for a Ferrari seat. He was just giving Cecily some flowers when we were passing by.”
“I wish you would’ve brought her into the garage, I’ve missed her.” The pout he’s sporting lets you know that he is being genuine and not putting on a show for your attention.
“You know I couldn’t, I had to get back to my own garage before the race.” The emphasis you use makes him roll his eyes as his fingers occupy themselves with the stacked bracelets on your wrist. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“James Bond.” He replies in an unattached voice, exhaling a deep breath. “I didn’t realise it was a costume party.”
“Charles,” you laugh, head tilted to the side as you keep holding his gaze, “it was on the invitation, darling.”
He groans, “I know that, now. Pierre was not impressed when I first showed up.”
“I can imagine.” You agree in a sympathetic voice. “Maybe we should’ve thought of something before you left last week.”
“Oh, yeah, like what? Vivian?” He smirks, his eyes going over your body once more, but without any shame this time. “Do you have any idea how great you look?”
“It was the last movie we watched.” You shrug, a coy smile on your lips. “Maybe you could’ve been a ballerina, like Natalie Portman, in ‘Black Swan’.”
He lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh please, you know how good my legs would look in tights compared to yours.”
“Oh, chéri,” You tut, stepping closer to him as you rake your fingers down on his tie. “You couldn’t if you tried.”
“I would crush you.” He challenges as he lifts an eyebrow.
You shake your head. “You wouldn’t touch me.”
“Why not?” He asks, amused.
You shrug in a nonchalant manner. “Because you'd be too busy staring at me in tights.”
“No I wouldn’t,” Charles argues, shaking his head slightly.
“You’re doing it right now.” You sing in a light voice.
“You’re not wearing any.” He points out, his hands moving to rest on the bare skin of your waist, curtesy of the cut-outs your dress provides.
You tug on his tie to draw him closer to you, his lips lingering near his ear as you whisper, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
He is left speechless when you let him go, grab your drink and start walking towards your teammate, making sure to add an extra sway to your hips because you know Charles is watching you to confirm what you’ve just told him.
You have a secret, and it’s big – big, huge. And it has something to do with the Monegasque laying beneath you. Charles talks about the last few days he spent at the Ferrari factory as you listen to him, your eyes focused on the way his face moves through various expressions when he talks about the car. Your chin is placed on your hands which are placed together on his chest, giving you the perfect view of his face. His fingers are moving on the bare skin on your back, the white bed sheet pulled up only enough to cover the globe of your ass. Although you try your best to keep up with his stream of consciousness, humming where accurate and asking him questions here and there, but Charles can see the sleepy look in your eyes through your hooded eyes.
“Are you okay, mon soleil?” He asks, his chest rumbling with his voice underneath your hands.
“Sleepy,” you mumble, leaning up against him to bury your face against the side of his neck, “you’re warm, though.”
He pulls the sheet up your body; interpreting the way you shiver as you being cold, when the actual reason is the pleasure the skin to skin contact brings. “You can go back to sleep; we still have some time.” The incoherent mumbles leaving your lips makes him chuckle, which in return makes you smile against him. Your fingers trace over the edge of his five o’clock shadow, and you suddenly find yourself thanking whatever deity is up there that he forgot to shave because of all the commotion of travelling over the past few days. “What did you just say?”
“It’s just funny that you tell me I should sleep after you’ve kept me up the entire night, darling.” Your breathy chuckle hits the side of his neck as he lets out a chuckle of his own.
“I didn’t hear you complaining at any point,” he raises one of his brows, earning him a pat against his chest and you making yourself rise enough to glare at him.
You try your best to frown at him, locking your gaze with his, as you can feel the heat starting to rise up to your face at the mention of your not so innocent activities of last night. “You’re incorrigible, Charles.”
“Oh, chérie,” he coos, brushing the pad of his thumb over the swell of your cupids-bow. You’re about to give in and give him a kiss when he rises up, himself, with a frown and you in his arms.
“What’s wrong?” You ask in a worried voice, following his line of vision to your closed bedroom door.
“Does anyone else have your keys?” Charles asks, “I heard the front door open–”
Your eyes widen as you scramble to get off him, pulling the sheet up to cover your nakedness. “Charles, hide!” You hiss, while trying to force him to move.
“Y/N?” You hear your assistant, Margo, yell through the house. “I got those thermal things you wanted!”
“One second, please!” You call back to her, looking at Charles with pleading eyes. Thankfully, he manages to hide underneath the sheets just before Margo barges into the room. Even more luckily, the duvet over the sheets ends up hiding his body seamlessly. “Hi, Margo.” You give her the best smile you can muster up under the situation, your hand still clutching the bedsheet on your chest with enough force to make your hand hurt.
“Oh my god, are you naked under there?” Margo babbles, a light blush covering her cheeks. “Since when do you sleep naked?”
“Um… I heard it’s good for your circulation?” You answer her in an unsure voice, causing Charles to tighten his hands on your thighs in warning, you have no idea how he managed to squeeze between them in the first place. “Thank you for the thermals, you’re an angel.”
“N-no problem.” She smiles at you nervously, obviously stressed because of the lack of clothes on your body for the sake of professionalism. “Toto wanted me to tell you that he is meeting up with Lewis for lunch later and asked me to ask you to join them if you were free.”
“Sure, do you know wh-when?” You stutter during the last word, feeling Charles’ fingers and breath coming closer to your center.
Margo checks her watch, then looks back up at you. “Around three, at that Italian place the team went out for dinner the last time.”
You nod in acknowledgement as you try the remember the exact location of the restaurant she mentioned, gasping because Charles decides to give your clit a little lick before taking it between his lips to gently suck on it. “I’ll be there!” You rush out, hands gripping the white sheet even tighter.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Margo asks while eyeing you up with worry, “Should I take you to a doctor, or something?”
“Oh no, I’m fine, honey.” You wave her off with a nervous chuckle. “I think it’s all in your – head!”
“Um.. okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Margo mumbles as she leaves your room with red cheeks.
You throw your head back in a groan over the awkward encounter, waiting until hearing the front door open and close before pulling the sheets back and glaring at the man between your thighs, who still has his mouth on you, by the way. “You are evil, Charles, pure evil! What were you thinking?”
He draws back slightly to raise a questioning brow. “Do you want me to stop?” However, he resumes his torture when you don’t answer him, looking up at you while grinning like the devil himself as he murmurs into your skin, “That’s what I thought.”
It’s hard, being a woman in the motorsport world, and especially in F1. While some may say it’s unprecedented, and you’d agree, you also think there’s going to be misogynistic pigs in any sector you might end up working in, so why not have some fun? The article comes out the day before the race, right before the qualifying session. You’re not the one to check your phone before going on track, but an urge to do so pokes at you when you realise people are giving you worried looks in the Mercedes garage. Your jaw tightens as you read through the article, fingers tightening around your phone as you read every single sexist comment being made about the way you dress, talk, and your entire F1 career and accomplishments being discredited just because of your gender. You’re absolutely fuming as you throw your phone onto the couch in your driver’s room and grab your helmet and balaclava as you walk briskly towards the garage.
Both Toto and Lewis look at you with surprised, but worried, looks as you announce, “Make me go out first.”
“Are you sure, Y/N?” Toto asks, sharing a worried glance with Lewis. “You usually wait for a while for other people to–.”
“No, I’m sure.” You tug on your balaclava as you add, “Make sure I’m on softs, please.”
The two men watch you walk off towards your car, Lewis mumbling, “Hell hath no fury like the woman scorned.” The Austrian turns to him, eyebrows raised, which causes him to roll his eyes. “Yes, Toto, I read.”
You’re a force to be reckoned with on track during qualifying. Although having not the best start to the season, you push your Mercedes to its absolute limits, managing to outpace even the Red Bulls, and constantly asking your engineer for another lap until Toto has to ask you to retire for the day – in long story short, you are the pole sitter for the Sunday’s race. There are four people waiting for you when you get out of your car, those four people being: Toto, Susie, Lewis and Mick – though you’re pretty sure the latter was dragged into this intervention because you’re usually unable to get angry next to the reserve driver.
“You were reckless out there, Y/N.” Toto frowns, crossing his arms over his chest (Mick copies his actions, nodding, as he does his best to give you a stern look).
“I drove the best I have in over a year,” you argue, “we are starting on P1 tomorrow because of my driving today.”
“I don’t care if we start P20, you know you shouldn’t have gone out there that angry!” Susie places a pacifying hand on your team principle’s arm when his voice gets higher.
“We know you were angry about the article,” Lewis starts, but you cut him off as you grumble,
“A very astute conversation, Lewis.” You snap, not allowing him to continue as you begin ranting, “He called me a ‘Malibu Barbie’, and suggested that I should find another career, do you know how disheartening that is?”
“They called me Ken once,” Mick mumbles with a small pout on his lips, quickly mumbling “sorry,” when you give him a scathing look.
“There will always be journalists who are against you and me,” Lewis goes on to remind you, “I told that before you signed, and before your first race.”
“I know, but–” You stop to swallow down a sob, tilting your head back to delay the tears which are threatening to come out. “They implied that I’ve slept my way up to where I am today,” you inhale a deep breath as your voice wavers, “I’m so tired of my accomplishments being reduced to this.”
“Men will always be afraid of women who have the ability to be better at their jobs than they are,” Susie smiles softly at you – soft, but not pitiful, you realise. “It doesn’t mean that we should give up, it means that we do our best to make sure they are proved wrong.”
“You could’ve hurt yourself and others today,” Toto shakes his head, “you almost collided with both of the Ferraris.”
Your entire break pauses at the mention of the red cars, mind quickly drifting to the owner of the eyes you love looking into, but you’re quick to snap yourself out, “Are they okay?”
“Both Carlos and Charles are fine,” Susie assures you.
“No more reckless driving,” Toto points a finger at you and then to Lewis, who raises his arms in surrender. “I mean it.” He pats you on the back before leaving, whispering a quick, “Good job today, kiddo.”
“Why do I get in trouble because of you?” Lewis wonders aloud, his hands on his hips.
“We haven’t been teammates for that long, Lewis.” You squint your eyes.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Mick asks with a concerned look on his face.
You nod in thought, pointed to both of them. “I will be, but I need both of your help.”
Mick gulps, voice tentative as he asks, “We’re not doing anything illegal, are we?”
After you’re done explaining your plan to your teammates, you say goodbye to both of them and make your way towards your driver’s room. Charles gets up, quickly, from the couch as you enter, shocked expressions on both of your faces. “H-how did you get in here?”
“I had to sneak in through the back,” he explains as he gets closer to you, hands quickly cup your cheek for his thumbs to swipe under your eyes. “Chérie, did you cry?”
“I- no!” You shake your head as you try to get him off. “I’m just- ugh, I’m just so angry!”
He lets you rant in his arms, eventually giving in and shedding a few tears of frustration, but he doesn’t comment until you’re done with your thoughts, and when he does comment, it is not to undermine your feelings. He takes you back to the hotel, and before the two of you leave your garage, he sneaks a soft kiss on your lips which has you melting in his arms. Unbeknown to you, Susie, Toto and Lewis watch the interaction from the other end of the corridor, with the latter murmuring, “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” Lewis gives Toto a side-eye as the team principle looks at him with the same surprised look from before, “For the last time, man, I read!”
All the eyes in the car are on you, the next morning when you, Mick and Lewis arrive to the track in the same car. “You ready to leave?” Lewis asks you, looking at you from the rear-view mirror from the passenger seat; Mick drove to the track instead of you because you told them both there was no way you were driving with the heels you wore today.
“It’s now or never,” you mutter, subconsciously fixing your hair.
“Give them hell.” Mick turns back to smile at you, and you give him a nervous smile as you exit the car.
A few people around the entrance turn to give you funny looks, you reply to some of them by offering a thin-lipped smile. The real show starts when you finally enter the racing grounds, photographers turning to snap a picture of you when they realise it’s actually you. You plaster on a plastic smile, waving at them as you do your absolute best to walk in the 6-inch heels which were definitely not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.
“Hi, Barbie!” A similar voice calls out to you, and you smile genuinely for the first time as you call back. ,
“Hi, Ken!” You turn towards Pierre, pushing your sunglasses up towards your hair as you watch the Frenchman walk towards you with Carlos and Charles behind him.
“Please tell me it’s a wig,” Carlos frowns, his eyes lingering on your suddenly platinum hair.
“I’m having fun as a blonde, Carlos.” You shrug innocently, your arms crossing over your chest, and the pink dress you’ve decided to wear for the occasion.
Pierre nods in support, “Blondes do have more fun, Carlos.”
“I- Why?” Carlos asks, not getting the joke shared between you and Pierre. “I don’t understand.”
“Fine, no soup for you, then.” You mumble rolling your eyes. However, your eyes widen when you realise he genuinely doesn’t get the reference. “Seriously- Carlos, it’s from Seinfeld.”
“I’ve never watched it.” He admits, his frown still prominent on his face.
“It’s okay, mate,” Pierre assures him taking him away to explain the joke to him, which leaves you and Charles alone.
You turn to Charles with a coy smile on your face. “You like the new look?”
“I- but, when?” He asks you, more confused then ever. “You were not blonde when I left last night.”
“Mick bought the dye for me.” You explain, trying to supress a grin. “We stayed up all night trying to bleach my hair.”
“You stayed up all night?” Charles asks, more concerned now that he learns that you didn’t have a good night’s sleep. “That’s so wrong, mon soleil, why did you do it? Is it about the article? Of course, it is.”
“Charles, calm down, darling.” You place a hand on his chest, even though you’re hyperaware of the fact that both of you are out in the open. “I’m just going to prove something, alright? I feel fine.”
“You should’ve slept.” Charles frowns, taking a deep breath. “Are you sure you feel good enough to be in a car?”
You nod excitedly. “Positive, I have a race to win. And wait until you see what Lewis and I are going to wear.”
“I can’t wait, chérie.”
Just as you promised Charles, you win the race. Your pace is even better than the previous day, but instead of being fuelled by anger, you are fuelled by determination to win. Your engineers play Aqua’s Barbie Girl as a surprise, and to make things even better, Lewis and you stand on the podium in a Mercedes 1-2 in your matching pink helmets and shoes – even Toto donned pink glasses for the occasion. Charles lets out a hearty laugh alongside you on the podium when he sees your outfits. Yeah, you decide in that moment, this one is for the girls.
You and Charles’ relationship happened so unexpectedly, but that doesn’t mean that you regret a secret moment of it. It all started when you were moving to Monte Carlo at the end of last year’s season, and Charles was the only one available to help you in the process – not that you asked him of course, he offered you to help because he is a gentleman like that. It didn’t take the both of you long enough to go on dates as you spent more and more time together, and it was a natural transition to both of you dating each other exclusively. Despite what you expected, the first time Charles actually kissed you was on a cliff overlooking the entirety of Monte Carlo, the view was beautiful, but you were still apprehensive because of your location on the cliff. So, being the gentleman he is, Charles offered to hold you, and that’s when he decided to kiss you.
Lewis comes back to the table after taking a phone call as he apologises, “Sorry, I was on the phone; long distance.”
“God?” You ask him, mockingly nodding, which makes George and Carmen laugh.
“London,” Lewis clarifies as he gives you a questioning look.
You gasp as you ask. “God lives in London?”
“No, my mother in lives in London.” Lewis replies in the calmest voice he can muster.
“You mother is God?” You ask right back, without the appearance of joking. Your small discussion grabs the attention of other drivers and couples as the two of you continue bickering.
“Y/N,” Lewis tries to warn you, but you continue on with your rant.
Leaning towards Charles, Alex and Lily who are seated close together, you announce, “So, God is a woman.”
“Y/N!” Lewis groans this time.
“And my teammates mother, it’s so cool! I’m definitely going to ask for strategy points for the next season.”
The table shares a laugh as you and Lewis continue bickering back and forth, eliciting laughs from people who watch you with amusement. Eventually, Pierre clears his throat. “Okay, what is everyone’s plans for the break?” he asks, trying to look over the long table.
“Isa and I are off to Mallorca,” Carlos announces as she presses a sweet kiss to his cheek.
“I’m going back home,” Yuki shrugs.
“I’m going to see Chloe and Scotty,” Lance mumbles, “and probably Daniel, too.”
Everyone goes around to announce their plans for the break, but when it comes to you and Charles, you are nervous as you announce, “I’m just going to stay home, get to know the city, you know?”
“Yeah, same.” Charles nods, thinking he got away with his evasive answer.
“You’re going to get to know the city you were born and raised in?” Fernando asks with a knowing smirk.
“You can always find new things if you know where to look,” Charles replies in a serious tone, trying to appear stern as he nods to strengthen his point. You’re busy squeezing his hand under the table to death.
“Yeah, like what?” Max asks, which earns him a slap on the arm from Kelly. “What? I’m curious.”
“Like, umm, like-like cafés, and bookshops, and you know those little stores which sell souvenirs but not the generic kind?” He rambles, trying to think of more examples.
“Okay that’s enough,” Lewis cuts him off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “We all know the two of you are dating. The entire grid, and engineers, and probably most of the team principles.”
“What?” You laugh nervously, trying to shrug him off. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Yeah, we are not dating.” Charles shakes his head, his octave going up as he receives looks from people around the table. “We are not!”
“Drop the act, it’s disgusting the way you two look at each other.” Checo complains from the other side of the table.
“Yeah, and I can see him doing stuff to your hand under the table.” Lance winces.
“He is not doing stuff to my hand under the table!” You squeal, but Charles is too busy trying to contain his laughter next to you. “Is this funny to you, Charles?”
“I mean, a little bit,” Charles confirms, finally succumbing to his laugher, “we have nothing to hide now, chérie.”
“I knew it!” Pierre exclaims, “I told you I saw them together at my birthday!” He tells his girlfriend.
“Toto and I saw them kissing after quali,” Lewis shrugs.
You gasp as you turn towards him. “You did not!”
“Yes we did,” Lewis argues, “even Susie saw.”
Charles pulls you towards himself, still laughing over people arguing whether they saw you together over the past year or not, as he wraps your arms around your shoulder, you murmur to him, “I am so crashing next to him next year, Daniel style.” You take a pause to think, “No, Mazepin style.”
“Maybe not crash into your teammate for the sake of poor Toto, mon soleil.”
You let out an unsatisfied grumble as you hear Alex complain to Lily, “Why didn’t she tell me? I thought we were best friends!” You groan and look around the table at all the people around you, who are all surprisingly supportive of your relationship, you smile as you press a soft kiss to Charles’ lips.
He grins as he asks, “What was that for?”
“Nothing,” you shrug, “I just think you’re pretty cool.”
“I think you’re pretty cool, too, my love.” He mumbles and gives you another kiss despite few groans coming from around the table.
#monzabee#requests open#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smut#formula 1#fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#imagine#fluff#angst#smut#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc fluff
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Something always fascinating to me is the "character who thinks they're in a different genre" phenomenon. The theme of the story you are telling determines what the right and wrong actions to take are; but the characters, reacting in-universe to the situation, don't know what story they're in, and the exact same responses can be what saves you or damns you depending on what kind of story the author is telling and what the story's message is about what life is like.
In Wolf 359, Warren Kepler approaches the mysterious and powerful aliens with threats; he kills their liaison and tries to position himself as a powerful opponent. However, he's shown to be wrong and making things worse: his preemptive aggression is unwarranted and unhelpful and bites him in the ass. The aliens want to communicate and understand humanity and share our music. It's Doug Eiffel, the pacifistic (and kind of scaredy-cat) communications officer who loves to talk and share pop culture, who talks to them and understands that the aliens are scary not because they want to kill us but because they don't understand the concepts of individuals and death. Talking to them, communicating with them, understanding where they're coming from and and bringing them to understand a human point of view, is what succeeds. Openness rather than suspicion, trust rather than aggression. Kepler thinks he's a dramatic space marine protecting the Earth from the alien threat by showing them humans are tough and can take them, but that's not the kind of story this is.
Conversely, in Janus Descending, Chel is in awe of the strange and beautiful alien world around her. She wants to touch it, understand it, get up close to it. When she sees a crystal alien dog, she wants to befriend it, despite Peter's warning. But when she gets close to it, extending her arm in greeting, it attacks her and drags her down into the cave to try to eat her. This sets the inevitable tragedy in motion. Suspicion is warranted; trust will get you killed. Because this is a sci-fi horror, with a major running thematic reading about how racism and sexism will destroy your brain and your society, and how the people who think they're too smart to be prejudiced don't see their own prejudice and will end up ruining the lives of the people they still don't fully see as equals, this kind of trust that Chel shows this strange alien is tragic. However it is also a horror story where there are very real hibernating space snakes ready to wake up and eat the fresh meat that has landed on their planet, and by being too trusting Chel has accidentally introduced herself to one.
Kepler, suspicious and ready to shoot any alien he doesn't understand, would likely have survived Janus Descending; Chel, with her enthusiasm for learning about and meeting aliens, would have been a wonderful and helpful member of the Wolf 359 crew.
In a similar manner, in Alien, Ellen Ripley yells to the rest of her crew not to bring the attacked crewmember with the alien on his face back on the ship and into the medical bay, you don't know what contamination that thing might have; she's ignored. She tells them not to let the crewmember out of quarantine even though he seems fine; she's ignored again. Ripley is the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, and she is consistently ignored, until an alien bursts out of her crewmate's chest and then eats everyone and Ripley is proven to be right and also the only survivor. (And it turns out that the science officer consistently overriding her protests was an android sent by the company that contracted them, and said android was given orders to bring the alien back so the company could study it and do weapons development with it, try not to let the crew find out about it, and kill them if he had to in order to do so!)
Ripley's paranoia and mistrust of the situation was correct, because Alien is a space horror and the theme is in space no one can hear you scream (also corporations consider you expendable).
Conversely, in All Systems Red, we have a damaged and almost-combat-overridden Murderbot being brought back into the PreservationAux hab medical bay after being attacked by other SecUnits. Gurathin becomes the one person protesting this isn't safe, we don't know what's going on, he doesn't want to let Murderbot out because it's hacked and probably sabotaging them for the company contracted their security and sent it with them. Gurathin thinks he is the Ellen Ripley here! He is trying to warn his teammates not to make a dangerous mistake that will get everyone killed!
However, All Systems Red is a very different story than Alien, and Murderbot is neither a traitor on behalf of the company to sabotage them and steal alien remnants for weapons development, nor a threat to the humans - it's a friend, it's a good person, and it wants to help them against both companies willing to screw them over. Trusting it and helping it is the right thing to do and is what saves their lives. Gurathin is proven to be wrong.
If everyone on the Nostromo crew had listened to Ellen Ripley, they would still be alive (except Kane. RIP Kane), because this is a horror story about being isolated and hunted and going up against this horrifying thing that wants to kill and eat you and just keeps getting stronger. If everyone on the PreservationAux team listened to Gurathin, they would all be dead, because this is a story about friendship and teamwork and trust and overcoming trauma and accepting the personhood of someone very different from you.
Same responses. Different context. And so very different moral conclusions.
Warren Kepler was about how the brash violent over-confident approach to things you don't understand is wrong, and that openness and developing that understanding between people is what's important; Chel was about the tragedy of trust destroying a Black woman who wanted so much to believe in a world that could be kind and beautiful. Ripley was about a woman whose expertise and safety warnings were ignored and brushed aside and everyone who did so died because of it; Gurathin was about how even justified fear shouldn't mean you make someone else a scapegoat and mistrust them because they seem scary.
Sometimes you're in the wrong genre because you need to be, because the author is trying to show how not to react to the situation they set up in order to build the mood and the theme they're trying to convey.
#Wolf 359#Janus Descending#Alien#The Murderbot Diaries#Murderbot#meta#my meta#it's about what the author is saying about the nature of the world and how to respond to it
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