#so if you’re anti choice fuck off
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Ppl really fail at pissing me off or upsetting me in regards to being pro choice (aka correct)
“Oh so you’re in the baby killing fandom?” Sure. Idgaf. Honestly that’s funny as hell sounding bc uhhh abortion would mean that more babies could be born into healthy circumstances and therefore have happier lives. And you fucks don’t care about fully realized children getting slaughtered every day by gun violence, so if I’m pro baby killing, so are you
“I’ve worked at an abortion clinic and saw the guts of a six week old fetus” no you didn’t. A fetus that young doesn’t have guts. And SO?! I don’t wanna see someone get a lung transplant either because it’s gruesome but that doesn’t mean I think they should never happen. Have you ever watched a surgery? It’s horrific. But if it’s gotta happen, it’s gotta happen.
Honestly idgaf about whether something is alive or not. It’s not my fucking responsibility to keep another thing alive if I don’t want it. “So don’t have sex” okay what about rape, then? Or birth control fucking up? In any case, no one can force you to donate a kidney or even your fucking corpse, therefore you shouldn’t have to donate 9 months of hell, at least 18 years, hundreds of thousands of dollars, emotional turmoil, countless lost opportunities, sleepless nights, etc to a life you don’t want or care about.
#anyway anti choicers make 0 sense#I am 100% pro choice#and saw some shitty people with shitty takes and got mad#so if you’re anti choice fuck off#go adopt some kids#oh you can’t because of the financial burdens and complications it would cause you?#HUH. CRAZY HOW HAVING ANOTHER HUMAN DUMPED ON YOU WITH NO WARNING CAN BE AN ISSUE
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ok repeat after me you aren’t “pro-life” you’re just anti-choice and anti-women
#it makes me so infuriatingly angry#literally laughable#pro life for who? the child you’re forcing to endure abuse/neglect/hardships bc their parents weren’t ready?#if you’re pro life you can fuck off#pro choice#roe v wade#womens rights#womensupportingwomen#pro abortion#anti scotus#fuck scotus#human rights#united states#scotus#abortion#pro birth control#cottagecore#cozycore#witch#florence and the machine#reproductive justice#reproductive rights#healthcare#activism#justice#freedom
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What the fuck is anti choicers problem with bodily autonomy? How do they have such reverence for a foetus and such disdain and vitriol for the already living people who have to birth them?
#I am so fucking done#I’m fed up#abortion is a human right#anti choice is misogyny#anti choice is fucked up#pro life is pro suffering#fuck you if you value a jellybean with no thought over a living conscious human#pro life is anti woman#not just women get pregnant#if you try to comment on my tags with a ‘gotcha’ then there’s clearly no valid response to the main text of my post#I am angry and frustrated and fed up and disappointed and I pity the pregnant people in your life#pregnancy should not override bodily autonomy#pro life can fuck off#this is probably a bad idea writing this at around 3am#don’t Fucking clown with hate mail I already have enough of it#if you think sending rape and death threats to me is original then you’re way too Fucking late
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“I think I’m going to move to Gotham,” Jazz’s tapped away at her laptop, clicking through her college acceptance letters. Danny sat up from where he was scrolling through his phone and stared at her. “Thoughts?”
“And prayers,” he sassed. “Because you’re going to need them. Why the would you pick Gotham when Harvard accepted you?”
“Gotham has Arkham. And Doctor Quinzel.”
“Isn’t she Harley Quinn? The Crime Princess of Gotham?”
“Yeah, and an acclaimed psychologist with hundreds of published work that revolutionized the mental health field! Sure, she’s more criminally inclined now, but I’d kill to pick her brains.”
Danny grinned. “Interesting word choice. You’d fit right in. It’s just weird that all of their psychologists turned into villains.”
“Okay, but I won’t. You’d stop me.”
“Or I’d join you,” Danny rolled back onto the floor.
“Don’t you dare, Daniel Fenton. You’d better stop me if I went villain.”
“But I feel like you’d have a pretty good reason for it though?”
“I appreciate the trust, dumbass, but I’m always this close to loosing it.” Jazz rolled her eyes as she jabbed a finger at Danny.
“Hah! You’ll fit right into Gotham!”
Jazz hummed. “So, Gotham?”
“Yeah, why not?”
——
“Danny!”
“Little busy!” Danny dodged a blast from a GIW agent.
“Why’d you pick up, then?”
“You don’t call often- hey, can you guys knock it off? I’m on a call!” Danny shouted. Surprisingly the agents stopped.
“Woah. You guys actually stopped?”
“We’re anti-ghost, not rude cavemen. Finish your call, Phantom, so we can get back to capturing you.” The agent with red hair said. Her partner nodded their head.
“Riiiight.” Phantom floated away a bit. “What did you want to talk about?” He asked Jazz.
“So, Dr. Quinzel-”
Danny heard a further off “Call me Harley, darling!”
“Harley,” Jazz continued seamlessly. “Is dating Ivy, a meta! Which, totally cute and their relationship is so healthy. Goals, honestly-”
Danny heard another far off comment, “Awe, thanks, Jazzy-wazzy!”
“But long story short, they got in touch with the Justice League about the GIW and they’re getting pulled back! And disbanded! Are you fighting the agents? Can you see if they’ve got the order to pull back?”
“Wait, seriously?” Danny perked up, the exhaustion from the fight all but gone. “I’ll ask.”
Danny turned to the two agents, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hey! Did you guys get orders to stop hunting me? I heard the Justice League got involved.”
“What? We didn’t-”
“Shit, wait, we got orders.” Her partner jabbed their phone at her.
“Fuck. This isn’t over, Phantom!”
“Yeah, yeah! Shoo!” Danny watched them peel away. “Thanks, Jazz! Maybe I’ll finally get a peaceful school year.”
“R.I.P.” Jazz solemnly intoned.
“Dead-ass.” Danny replied, just as seriously before the both of them broke. Cackling, Danny said goodbye to Jazz.
“Maybe I should get some gifts? Hm… Undergrowth has some rare plants.” Danny muttered as he flew back home.
#danny phantom#jazz fenton#dc x dp#dpxdc#dc x dp crossover#Harley Quinn#that’s DOCTOR Harleen Quinzel to you#poison ivy#harley x ivy#Gotham#justice league#the giw#Jazz Fenton goes to college and takes down a government branch with the aid of well known criminals
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I don’t know how to explain to some of you that it’s okay for creators to make money
Like yes capitalism sucks the endless stream of sequels and marvel movies and rehash after rehash is exhausting but when we’re talking about indie studios, even the larger ones like Critical Role, some of you are just so quick to jump to “soulless cash grab” at the slightest hint that there may be a profit based motive behind a project. Which. There literally always is
The idea of the starving artist has given us the concept they “good” creators never think about money even when they’ve managed to pull off the miracle of being a full time creator. That’s rare, and precarious. Sometimes they will have no choice to put profit before creativity because that’s literally what they need to survive. If they give a shit, which it’s incredibly bad faith to assume they don’t, they’ll still try to make that profit-motivated project good and enjoyable. Because they know putting out a bad product won’t generate that oh so evil profit and they just CARE and want to put good art in the world regardless of the motive
Some of y’all just straight up hate when creators are successful or put any thought towards profit. I’m not saying you’re doing that purposefully, you’re jaded, I get it, but you’ve got to start allowing some nuance because even the most original, anti-establishment creator needs to fucking eat
So many of the people I see saying this are aspiring creators themselves. What do you think you’re going to have to do? Do you think you’ll just magically be an exception? We all live in the same world. If you want to be a creative professionally, always remember what you said and what your subject did in situations like this, because it will happen to you
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k so i made this poll awhile ago to answer my question on if people would rather spend a date with a swiftie or an anti-swiftie (someone who hates her and devotes their life to hating on her). i mentioned i didn’t have the spoons to handle it being longer than a day and know it was going to be biased as it would start in my circle and would work it’s way out, so i wanted to do a longer poll when i had the energy to handle a week long poll like that. (i’m assuming when i post this, as i’m pre making it, i’ll be in recovery from my nose surgery since i’ll be stuck at home a week so i’ll have more time to monitor and look at the tags)
so nows the time, but i’m going to addendum the question a bit:
*some extra things that came up on the original poll i didn’t elaborate on fully that i want to make clear:
- you don’t get a say in what type of swiftie you get. assume that you’re going to be spending the evening with someone who massively loves her and her music and wants to discuss it. they’ll talk about songs, their favorite lines and meanings, symbolism behind the reputation album, etc.
- YOU MUST TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT. even if it’s the anti-swiftie you must talk about her. i understand the sentiment people made on her not coming up, and that’s valid, but that’s not the question i’m asking. YOU HAVE TO SPEND THE EVENING WITH SOMEONE WHOS GOING TO TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT NONSTOP, WILL IT BE THE LOVER OR HATER?
- im just trying to gather a general consensus on this and want to get data from a lot of people which means this is going to end up on people’s blogs who probably hate swifties and are annoyed by them. that’s okay as that’s the point of my question. but if you’re going to go off in the tags about how much you hate her or hate swifties and be an asshole about it im blocking you. you can just simple say “i hate her/i hate swifties” and don’t need to elaborate. you don’t need to sit in the tags going off on how much you hate her and trying to “defend” yourself from swifties. i just want an answer to the question.
- ALSO, this is not an open poll to go harass anyone in general. if you are a swiftie and see an hater in the tags and wanna fight DON’T FUCKING DO IT. just block and go read/watch your favorite media and think of blorbos kissing or whatever, but DO NOT SEND HATE OR HARASS ANYONE.
the hypothesis im trying to prove is that people in general would much rather spend an evening with someone that is going to talk about something they love all night vs someone who will spend the evening talking about something they hate. i want to gather as much data as possible to get a good consensus and if you go and be an asshole to someone because of their tags on this poll, either side of the swiftie to anti-swiftie spectrum, your disproving the point. if you see tags you don’t like just simply block and carry on. understand? k good.
- in general this is not meant to be a very serious or heavy question. it’s meant to just let me pick people’s brains and see what they’d want to do. i just want to get my results and go. just vote, drop your opinion in the tags, and go.
- also, this last part is silly and not at all related to my data, but since i’m forcing you on a dinner date i’ll at least let you pick the restaurant and food you have. so if you could also say what restaurant/food choice you’d want and what you’d want to order i’d love to hear it. sky’s the limit here. go nutz or even very specific on what you’d want to eat. i am trying to learn to cook and don’t know a lot of recipes or different food types, so i’m hoping this will give me a bigger idea of what food is out there to make. (this question is not meant to be a way to stick it to anyone or for you to go “i’ll go to a shitty ass restaurant and take a swiftie/anti-swiftie and make them eat garbage 🤪”, it’s just a fun question to give people something positive to add to the poll if they want. AGAIN IF YOUR GOING TO BE AN ASSHOLE ILL BLOCK YOU.)
- i’m going to be annoying and ask that you reblog for a wider sample size and such, if you don’t want to that’s fine, but i’m going to be polite and ask you nicely.
that should be everything, thank you for reading my long ass list and voting in this poll. i hope you have a good day and such.
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San: Making Choices
!!mentions of nsfw!!18+!! (soft smut) as requested here! however, this is my first smut so uhm I have no idea if I did this right, much less make it SOFT the way it’s intended to be bc I wasn’t aware there were ranges so uh COUGH 😭 LMK what you think, anonnie!! And pls feel free to request more!!
“You’re too fucking good,” San’s hot breath burns against your neck. “You’re just so fucking good.”
You sat at the edge of his bed, after what was supposed to be a movie night with your boyfriend. Of course, the plans had changed almost immediately after the movie showed a sex scene, and soon enough San couldn’t keep his eyes off you any longer after that.
You weren’t too good at keeping your eyes off him, either, and what soon began as short teases from your end eventually lead to some kisses turned to making out, and now San had carried you back into his bedroom to dare you to finish what you’d started.
You let out a soft moan at the feel of his teeth nibbling against your neck, his hands groping at your hips and pulling you closer to him.
“San,” you groan as a warm feeling overtakes your abdomen. His clothed crotch rubs against your panties, and you so desperately wanted to take everything off.
“C’mon,” he coos into your ear, leaving a soft trail of kisses down your neck. “Let me put my baby inside you.”
San had been asking for you to give him a child for a few months now, and though you still weren’t too keen on the idea, he could make it incredibly hard to resist.
The only thing that was really stopping you was his career.
“San, but… what about your career,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his neck and rubbing his upper back.
His hooded eyes make their way to yours.
“And what about it?”
“Uhm,” you stutter, “wouldn’t you get backlash—”
“We’ve talked about this before, love. They don’t have to know that I’m happy if it’s gonna bother them,” he whispers, referring to the potential backlash of malicious news sources and rabid fans-turned-anti’s if they got upset by it, “so I won’t tell anyone. Not yet, anyway.”
He was so sure of his decision, and you could see how desperately he wanted it deep within his eyes.
“I’m so sure of making you a mom the moment you give me permission, though,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours. And you wanted to be the one to make San a dad more than anyone else in the world.
I could make you a dad whenever I want to, you devilishly thought to yourself.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, grabbing his hands and moving them down to your lower hips, making his fingers tug against your panties.
Okay, then, you think excitedly, desperately hoping he’d take the hint and undress you already.
He doesn’t hesitate to take notice, and immediately pushes down against your body, gently landing you on your back against the mattress behind you.
His hands glide down your legs as your panties come off, his hooded eyes growing darker at the sight of you in all your glory.
“Fuck, you’re wet already,” he whispers, slowly spreading your legs as far as you’d go.
“San,” you moaned, annoyed at the fact that he wasn’t doing anything yet.
The boy takes notice and quickly begins to unzip his pants, undressing himself from the waist-down, and briskly pulling his black tank shirt off.
He bends over and dives in between your legs, causing you to stir in desperation as you felt his tongue flicking lightly at your clit.
“San,” you groaned louder as you ran your fingers through his dark hair, pulling him deeper into you and proceeding to make a sloppy mess of yourself altogether.
He just felt so good eating you out like that.
“San, for fucks sake,” you breathed heavily. The boy rose and wrapped your thighs around his waist, softly pushing his hardened member into you as quiet moans began escaping your lips. Your moans steadily matched the swaying of his thrusts against you, each growing louder than the last. Soon enough, he was unapologetically letting out soft moans of his own.
“You’re… you feel so good, San,” you breathe, wanting him to go faster but also loving the steady pace at which he was at.
“Fuck, fuck,” he moaned a few times into your ear, not being able to hold them in.
He thrusted deeper into you, causing a stir in the pit of your abdomen as each thrust gave you greater pleasure than the last.
“San,” you moan loudly as the boy on top of you started to slow down.
“Hey,” he calls to you, firmly clasping a hand around your jaw and forcing you to turn in his direction. “When are you gonna let me make you my baby mama?”
Your eyes lock with his, his thrusting slowing down to a deep, steady pace as you struggled to form any viable responses in your head.
“You gonna answer me, or you want me to stop?”
The last thing you wanted was for him to stop.
“Fuck, San,” you want to look away, but his hand is firm against your jaw until you give him a proper answer. “Yes, do what you want to me, my body is yours!”
He smiles, leaning back and replacing both hands back against your hips as he began to thrust harder and faster into you, concentrating on fulfilling his only wish now that the visible pleasure was forming more and more across your face.
if you’re comfortable with smut I’ve got a hongjoong ver. here! and a yunho ver. here! and a wooyoung ver. here! jongho ver. here and a mingi ver. here!
#kpop#kpop imagines#San#San ateez#ateez#Choi san#hongjoong#Mingi#wooyoung#jongho#Yunho#yeonsang#seonghwa#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez san#ateezedit#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez mingi#ateez seonghwa#ateez jongho#ateez gifs#ateez wooyoung#ateez yeosang#ateez hongjoong#ateez yunho#ateez oneshot
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hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?
Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.
I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.
I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?
The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.
Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.
I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.
They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.
Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.
I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.
As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.
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Okay- Salem throwing in during the Great War especially with Grimm would belatedly justify that card game from Volume 2 because of how it was over control of Remnant besides as an in show ad. Especially with the whole bit of the Nevermore card.
Salem as supporter of revolutionaries fighting for their freedom... One that fits extremely well. Two it puts additional layers to Cinder approaching the White Fang and also just ... Cinder being taken in.
I also would find such a reveal in show to likely be extremely hilarious as the implications hit the audience and cast.
my god i wrote that entire fucking post without remembering the great war Board Game existed
you’re right though, it would be a sly piece of foreshadowing if that’s the intention, esp bc the nevermore bit is between ruby (playing atlas) and yang (playing mistral) and a dice roll which of their forces it attacks.
in terms of the worldbuilding that game has always kind of interested me for what it says about how grimm are viewed in military contexts by the general public; qrow in WOR suggests that grimm on the battlefield was an automatic ceasefire until they were driven off again, but also that “grimm came in droves” while ozma laid waste to his enemies with the sword. and then there’s this grimm card in a war game where the mechanic is “flip a coin to see whose soldiers get mauled”—implying that opportunistic “let the grimm attack your enemies” tactics are not unheard of.
and… then. there’s arrowfell. the grimm lures the antagonists use were developed by the atlesian military, and… the only practical use case for a device that summons swarms of grimm is to weaponize grimm against human targets, ideally a safe distance away from your own forces. like, they’re grimm bombs. and these were developed post-war! in a time of peace! the great powers during the tense period before the great war must have been thinking about how to point the grimm at their enemies, too.
but unless you’re salem, or have salem on your side, weaponizing the grimm will always be a double-edged sword—as yang says, that’s just a risk you have to be willing to take.
anyway yeah if i’m right, the reveal would be so punchy. and i do for sure think were due for some sort of revelation about the great war—it’s been set up and referenced over and over, and they made a deliberate choice to convey this information through a heavily biased perspective, and the great war ended in vacuo, and everything the narrative is building up to the last stand in vacuo. something about history coming due, and the truth coming out.
it’s also be a neat counterpoint to the Team Oz narrative, which is very black-and-white (mantle and mistral were the bad guys, vale and vacuo were the good guys, don’t ask too many questions about valean expansion into the likeliest origin point for those desperate crazy founders of mantle or vale’s involvement in the complete destruction of its next-door neighbor centuries ago or the part where ozma magic nuked everyone so hard that allies and enemies alike bent the knee.) whereas the truth seems to be more complicated with vale also having imperial ambitions prior to ozma assuming the throne, and then at best prioritizing the status quo.
an interesting possibility that i think about sometimes is that ozma may have been the one to withdraw vale from vacuo; less out of anti-imperialist principle than because the vacuan people were increasingly unhappy with valean rule and he recognized that the only way to avoid a war for independence in the long term would be to give vacuo independence first. and then mistral swooped in like a vulture because ozma neglected to do anything but formally recognize vacuan sovereignty, rather than make reparations and provide support needed to allow vacuo to emerge from centuries of valean occupation as a functional country—the same conflict-avoidant, shortsighted approach on display in his choice to “share the land” with mistrali colonists in eastern vale.
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at the risk of sounding Really Bad and with the caveat that I mean this in the most pro vaccine pro taking Covid extremely seriously way possible. I think conflating mental health/personal hobbies and habits with physical health and wellness in the time of a literal plague is actually part of why we are where we are. The example of opting out of treating a broken bone that you used is the perfect metaphor because that’s something that mostly effects the person with the broken bone. But if you’re treating every goddamn thing a person can do like it’s potentially viral it makes it easy to sound reasonable to advocate for a lot of vigilance against individual choice. Is this totally off base? do I sound like a reactionary dipshit conspiracy theorist right now? Just… there’s something here right??
even if that isn't the total root cause, I definitely think you're onto something. covid is literally a deadly and disabling viral disease, so the logic of "your actions regarding this impact others" makes total sense, but I think a lot of people took that language and framework and just ran with it, hoping that alluding to a deadly and disabling viral disease would lend credence to their arguments about mental health and personal decisions.
for example, I am constantly thinking about this take I saw on a post about drug decrim in december 2021. it's so special and dear to my heart, it makes no fucking sense at all. the only copy of the screenshot I still have saved is just the tail end of it and it has my annotations, so bear with me.
first, just for a moment, I love the complete breakdown of internal logic. we need to end the stigma around drug abuse but I think using heroin is exactly like being anti-vaxx. we should decriminalize all drugs but you'd have to be craaaazay to think that legalizing them is okay. wait until this person learns that some addiction treatment programs include prescribing opioids as a harm reduction measure.
second, using heroin is in no way like being anti-vaxx oh my god, and this person just can't tell. they are explicitly applying viral disease logic to mental illness* and choices about individual bodily autonomy. I don't want to minimize the pain and distress that can come from having a loved one with a substance use disorder, but in no world is it the same thing as refusing to go to cvs a few times to get a free vaccine against, once again, a deadly and disabling viral disease. groundbreaking leftist take: drug use makes you a hazard and drain on society and honestlyyyy you should think about the consequences of your actions before choosing to become an addict :/
I don't have screenshot for this next example, but I've also seen this language and mindset particularly come up a lot in discussions about "bimboism," makeup, and cosmetic surgery. I've seen several discussion threads where a woman finally just says "look, I'm adult, I've thought about this, I've interrogated myself, and ultimately I still want to do it and I can do what I want with my body" and the comeback to usually is "are you stupid? this isn't just about you, you're a member of a society who inherently expresses your ideology through your choices. the personal is political, stop being so individualistic. what will young girls think when they see you in a miniskirt calling yourself a slut?"
again, the final point that's meant to win the argument is that your choices about your body aren't fundamentally your own but Society's, because other people can look at your body and have feelings about it, they may even want to emulate it. for an added bonus, this one doesn't just use viral disease logic, but also borrows heavily and directly from the really basic conservative idea that women are less people and more living mannequins that you can dress up and use to show off the ideals of your social group. you can't wear that, men might see you and think you're a hussy and then it'll be your fault when they harass other women, little girls might see you and copy you like mindless drones.
*obligatory asides that plenty of people can recreationally use substances without being addicted and they're also fine + I know that classifying addiction as a mental illness is a hotly debated topic, especially in antipsych contexts, but that's a whole different can of worms to the topic at hand.
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I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.
They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.
They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.
Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.
And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.
There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.
Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.
I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.
I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.
I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.
I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.
These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.
They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.
They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.
None of us are irredeemable.
The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.
Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.
I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.
I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?
Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.
Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”
Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.
Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.
These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.
They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.
They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.
They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.
Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.
I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.
I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.
Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.
They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.
It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.
If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.
I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.
Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.
Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.
🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥
#tis i the werebitch#vivziepop#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#btw to my followers#sorry I’ve been so extra negative lately#I just have way too much to say about this shit
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Here, Kitty Kitty (18+ Fic)
Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader
Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.
Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer’s Note: Just came down off a stomach virus. Lemme tell you...whoever had this virus first in Philly, FUCK YOU!! Enjoy the chapter! -Jazz
Read on AO3 here!
Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.
*************
TWO.
Aizawa has always had trouble sleeping.
Whether it be because of stress over his students, haunted memories of villain attacks, or the memory of his beloved childhood friend Oboro.
But tonight, and for the past few nights since September when the school year began, his sleep troubles can be contributed to you and your damn cute ass self.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, practically slamming his hand down on his phone to stop the sound of ocean waves.
This usually does wonders to help him sleep, but all he’s been envisioning since he laid his head down to sleep hours ago is fucking you on an island, your luscious thighs spread and cute little tummy exposed as his dick strokes the inside of your wet, tight, utterly amazing pussy, your cute little ears and tail twitching as he strokes those with his hands, making you dumb with the pleasure.
“Fuck!” He growls, frustrated. He sits up in his bed, soaked in sweat despite the cool spring air coming through the window to his apartment. He looks at the clock: 12:23 AM. At this rate, he’ll be up until 6. Thank God it’s the weekend though.
But sleep is very important to Aizawa. He needs it to function, which is especially needed to deal with the public, his coworkers, and his snot-nosed students. He can’t do that if he’s here lying awake in bed, wondering why he’s still alone and not in your bed instead.
So what does he do when you’re running through his mind like this? He takes a walk.
He rises from his messy bed with the covers askew, clad in his briefs. He walks over to his clothes closet where he changes into a simple, black tracksuit. He doesn’t wear his usual jumpsuit for fear of dirtying it up, but he does pack his scarves and goggles since, as Mic put it, “a hero’s job is never done”.
After gathering his phone and keys, he meanders in his living room for a while, eyeing the closed bedroom door covered in painted pink flowers and cats that Mirio insisted on doing for his “little buddy” when they set up her bedroom. That was a year ago. How time flies when you’re a single dad, a professor, and a pro hero at the same time.
Aizawa smiles at the door before locking up his apartment and heading down the quiet hall to the elevator to take him downstairs. Once there, he swipes himself out with a key card given to all UA staff to get in and out of campus buildings and heads out into the quiet, spring night.
Before he heads off on his walk, he plugs his AirPods into his ears and chooses his R&B playlist. He begins nodding along to Troop’s “All I Do Is Think of You” as he begins to walk… probably not the right song choice because he instantly begins to think of you.
The campus is quiet. All are either asleep or out in the city, enjoying this nice Friday night. Spring is in full bloom, though the early chill is still in the air and the cherry blossoms that surround the area are still budding.
He walks along the walkway leading towards one of the many entrances to the UA campus, walking away from the apartment complex that houses many of UA’s teachers and staff.
Including you. He hasn’t seen you much around the building since you live on different floors and have such different schedules, but while in school, he runs into you in the elevator, stairwell, or hallway from time to time.
And each and every time, he’s dumbfounded by your attractiveness. His mouth waters every time he gets a look at your plump lips as they form the words “good morning” and your pretty, brown eyes he wants to stare into forever. Not to mention your gorgeous skin his fingers itch to feel, but not as much as they do your ears and tail that, unfortunately for him, go along with your quirk.
Goddamn, your ears and tail! He has to duck into empty classrooms every time he sees you down the hall because his hands start aching to stroke the adorable little things coated in fine, black fur.
His cock takes the worst of it though. It seems to have a mind of its own that you control. Every time he gets a glance at you in some cute little skirt with your ears relaxed as you sit in your office, he’s so tempted to find a nice, quiet place somewhere and bust several nuts at the thought of you…and he has.
At first, he wasn’t sure how he felt about you working here because of your cat quirk. Not because he disliked any person with an animal quirk (he isn't a prejudiced dick), but because you were so goddamn cute and knew he would never be able to focus. Throw in your compassion for the UA kids, your sweet and genuine personality, great taste in fashion, and your general niceness, and he’s ready to jump you.
He’s a fucking mess for you. Why the fuck did God or your parents’ genes have to make you so goddamn cute, pretty, and nice?
He’d never tell you any of this though. He knows logically, someone as pretty and as sweet as you would never return the same feelings to someone as awkward and as rough around the edges as him. You deserve someone who doesn’t scurry off when they see you and isn’t a complete introvert. Someone who doesn’t have secrets or a chip on their shoulder. You deserve so much better.
But fuck, does Aizawa want to be that “better”. He wants to be your man so bad, he can barely think straight. But that’s all it can be: want. Nothing more.
“Nothing more,” he whispers to himself, his breath fogging slightly in the chilled air.
As if validating the state of his complicated life, his phone begins to go off. He checks the caller ID, finding the number of the MPD aka the Musutafu Police Department hitting him up. Principal Nezu cut a deal with the chief a year ago for pro teachers to volunteer to do nightly patrols to clean up on street crime around campus and in the city. Aizawa volunteered since he’s got nothing else better to do.
Plus, kicking some ass certainly beats grading papers and stroking his dick nonstop to the thought of you. “You rang, chief?” he answers.
“Good, you picked up,” the chief sighs in relief. “Sorry to bother you so late. Were you sleep?” Aizawa nearly laughs. “Nope, you caught me at a good time. What’s up?”
The chief gives him the rundown: “We just got a report in from an overnight staff member about a robbery at the International Pro Hero Museum. According to him, there are four individuals in black jumpsuits and ski masks who broke into the place and took the overnight staff hostage. The one who put in the report managed to escape and called 911, but these individuals have their own quirks they’re using to their advantage to rob the place.”
“Did the staff member mention anything about what kind of quirks they have?” Aizawa asks, switching into gear. The wheels in his mind begin turning, already analyzing the situation.
The chief lets out another exasperated sigh, which is a no. “None at all, so just be careful, Eraserhead. We know you’re highly skilled in this department, but it doesn’t hurt to say it.”
Aizawa smirks to himself, already moving behind a building to change. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got this,” he chuckles. “I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, he immediately straps on his goggles and winds his scarves around his neck. Without another thought, he shoots one arm out and loops his scarf around a street lamp before latching on and leaping onto it.
He does this with every street lamp, traffic light, and building he sees, the world darkened by his goggles. He likes doing nighttime missions because he’s not noticed nearly as much as in daylight, but he gets the occasional “Hey, it’s Eraserhead!” yelled at him from a window or a car. He usually spares a wave or a nod, but this time, he’s too focused on his mission to pretend to like the attention.
He manages to make it to the museum quicker than he thought, but he doesn’t immediately act. He first crouches on the neighboring building, looking out at the museum. He doesn’t see a vehicle of any sort, which means the robbers came on foot. What he does see, however, is a broken window. At least they were smart to not try to break through the front door, meaning there is also an alarm that they probably disabled.
After analyzing the distance from the building he’s perched on to the museum, Aizawa wraps his scarf around a nearby tree and swings from the branch, like Tarzan. Then he latches himself onto the branch and, after securing his goggles, leaps from the tree and through the open window.
He lands perfectly on his knees, using a hand to steady himself on the ground into what Mic calls “a superhero landing”. He then asses his new environment: a dark storage room filled with dusty supplies, hero posters, and a group of museum staff gagged and bound against the wall. The hostages.
He quickly springs into action to help them, taking the makeshift rope and gags off of them. As he does, he looks down and finds tiny thorns in his gloves that protrude from the textured, green rope that tightly bound the hostages together. ‘Vines,’ he realizes.
“It’s Eraserhead!” one of the hostages shouts in glee. Another, wearing a janitor's uniform, hushes him.
“Hush, stupid!” he whispers harshly. “They might come back for us!” Aizawa helps each of them stand on their feet. “It’s alright, I’m here to help,” he calmly says. “How did you all get here?”
“Those four fuckers put us in here!” the janitor angrily replies. “I was just cleaning the floor in time for tomorrow’s shift and next thing I knew, I was being shoved to the ground and tied up in these damn vines.”
He kicks at the vines that lie on the ground. Aizawa stares at them questionably. “So one of them has a plant quirk,” he realizes. “Anybody know about the other three?”
Another hostage–a young security guard–steps forward. “One of them has webbed feet and can walk on walls,” he answers. “He jumped on my back and attacked me. Scared the shit outta me.”
A sudden crash pierces the air, making the hostages freeze in fear. Aizawa quickly gears into action.
“Nobody move from this spot,” he orders firmly. “I’ll come back for all of you. The police are on their way.” Before anyone can say anything more, he is quickly leaving the storage room and slinking through the dark museum as quietly as possible.
Each room he stalks through is dedicated to its own hero according to each part of the world as well as dark and empty. Nothing seems out of place until he makes it to the front of the museum where he finds broken glass littering the tiled floors. Warning signals blare in his head, his body warm with adrenaline as he carefully walks on the glass, using the fox walk technique.
His eyes trail over the glass to the broken case of All Might’s first hero outfit. Obviously, the robbers were trying to snatch it. What he doesn’t expect is to see three of them tied together near the door, back to back and unconscious. “What the fuck?” he whispers in bewilderment.
He gets a little closer and inspects the work: they are wrapped in one of the robber’s own vines with bruises and black eyes ruining their faces and slight tears in their black clothes. Someone seriously fucked these guys up. ‘But who?’ he thinks, confused. ‘Who the hell was here before me?’
He suddenly freezes, sensing something. Something that feels like danger according to his twirling gut.
With a deep inhale, he shoots his hand out to the right, earning a strangled gasp in response. He turns, finding a kid with unruly, burgundy hair and black clothes in his grasp, his bare, webbed feet dangling like a rag doll.
He gives Aizawa a toothy grin. “Eraserhead,” he croons. “I should’ve known you bein’ an old fart wouldn’t have fucked with your sense of hearing.”
Aizawa glares at the kid. “First of all, I’m thirty-one,” he deadpans. “Second, what are you doin’ with these fools? Shouldn’t you be at home sleep, kid?”
The kid’s wolfish grin drops, replaced with a look of rage. “Don’t call me that!” he snarls, wriggling around in Aizawa’s tight hold. “I’m not a fuckin’ kid! And I do what I want!”
Aizawa tightens his grip on the kid. “Jeez, anger issues much?” he huffs. “Something tells me your dad never spanked you when you were younger.” He tries to get a look at the kid’s face, preparing to wipe his quirk for a few hours so he’s easier to handle.
The kid surprises him by looking right at him suddenly. “What, you gonna do it for me?” he taunts before giving him a smile. “You could try!”
Suddenly, he pulls out a canister ball and slams it against the ground, causing a burst of smoke to explode from it. Aizawa drops the kid and begins to cough as the smoke fills his lung, his vision now obscured by the fog. He tries to look for the kid, tapping into his senses to find him. When the smoke finally clears, the kid is gone.
“Hey, old man!” someone shouts from the ceiling. Aizawa looks up and finds the kid hanging from the ceiling with his webbed feet. “Shit!” he growls, but he’s not quick enough. The kid jumps from the ceiling with a shout and lands on Aizawa’s shoulders.
“Perfect distraction,” he snickers. “Now you can say this “kid” is the reason to meet your end. Goodnight, Eraserhead.” Before Aizawa can try to rip him off, the kid wraps his arms and legs around his neck and begins to squeeze hard. Suddenly, Aizawa can’t breathe. He grunts, trying in vain to rip the kid off of him, but he has a fucking koala grip on him.
‘Air,’ Aizawa thinks. ‘I…need…air!’ He drops to his knees, desperate to get some air in his burning lungs.
But the kid just keeps on squeezing, desperate to kill the pro. Aizawa can feel his eyes fluttering shut, the darkness beginning to eat at his vision.
Suddenly, the strangling sensation stops and the kid lets out a grunt as he falls from Aizawa’s back. Aizawa sputters and coughs, gulping down as much air as possible. “That could’ve ended very badly,” an unfamiliar voice says behind him.
He turns, finding someone equally as unfamiliar to him. She stands above the now-unconscious kid, an All Might paperweight from the museum’s gift shop in her hand.
Aizawa’s eyes trail over her form, beginning at her black knee-high boots to her black bodysuit, the leather and slashes of glittered silver glinting in the flashing lights overhead. The black mask she wears over her head obscures the top half of her face from him, only showing him her nose and her glossy, plump lips where he just sees two fangs jutting out. Her braids hang at her waist where her hands are, placed confidently on her hips. Aizawa notices the same glittering, claw-like slashes there too along with some across her thighs he knows could crush someone’s head.
He wouldn’t mind being in between them himself.
He continues to gape at her for a moment, wondering where the fuck she came from. “You alright?” she asks, concern in her voice. She puts a gloved hand out to him where he can see long, makeshift claws attached to the tips of her fingers. Snapping back to reality, he refuses her hand.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles, standing. “Who the fuck are you?”
The stranger blinks at him with those yellow, feline-like eyes. “Well, nice to meet you too,” she scoffs. “I thought you would’ve already seen me in the newspapers, but I suppose cameras can only work so well in the dark.” She juts a hand out, giving him a fanged smile. “Night Claw. Nice to meet you, Eraserhead.”
Aizawa blinks at her. Her name sounds familiar to him. “You know me?” he questions, raising a brow at her. Night Claw giggles, moving her braids behind her shoulder. “You’re kiddin’, right? Anyone who’s anyone knows you.”
His eyes trail up to her mask, noticing the two pointed ears poking out of it. Now he knows why her name sounded so familiar. “I know you too,” he says, earning a wide-eyed stare from her. “You’re the new vigilante who’s been going around at night fighting street crime. I’ve seen your name pop up on Twitter.”
Night Claw grins with pride. “I’m her, exactly,” she chirps. “I was around, so I figured I’d stroll the streets. Then I came across the museum and saw them tryna make a hustle out of a steal.” She nods at the kid and his three partners. “The hostages okay?” she asks worriedly. “I couldn’t get to ‘em fast enough. Needed to make sure these dumbfucks didn’t steal nothin’ else.”
“Yeah,” he grumbles, still sizing her up. Who is this girl? Where did she come from? “You know, I would’ve handled that myself. And them.” He nods at the robbers.
Night Claw just laughs, irritating him. “Oh, yeah,” she replies sarcastically, “‘cause it looked like you were doin’ a great job, to begin with. Ya know, being that I saved your narrow behind, I think I’m
deserving of a thank you.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest that Aizawa has to force himself to look away from.
Aizawa clenches his fists, feeling incredibly pissed that she’s mocking him and that she ruined his mission. This was his arrest, not hers. And he certainly didn’t need any help from someone who isn’t even an official hero. He despises nothing more than people who feel like just because they have quirks, they have every right to become a hero without putting in the blood, sweat, and tears to do so.
But he doesn’t say all that. He only looks at the bright-eyed vigilante and sucks his teeth at her. “You’re not gettin’ one,” he growls. “And my ass isn’t narrow.”
Night Claw just smiles at him, almost taunting him. “I’m guessin’ you don’t have a license for this?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Night Claw’s smile doesn’t falter. “A girl never tells her secrets,” she hums, which he takes as a no.
“You know, I have every reason to take you into custody and hand you over to the cops for impersonating a hero,” he cooly states, fixing the vigilante with a hard stare. But even with the possibility of going to jail, Night Claw’s confidence never wavers.
She instead raises her chin and looks at him through the eye slits of her mask. “Are you though?” she purrs.
The air around them grows tense and thicker than fog. Before either of them can say anything more, the sound of police sirens begins to fill the air. Night Claw looks startled all of the sudden, but quickly bounces back and gives Aizawa a playful smile. “Guess that’s my cue to leave,” she announces briskly. “They’re all yours.”
Aizawa watches in silence as the vigilante turns towards the front doors of the museum, her ass looking way too good in her bodysuit. As if forcing him to be a good person, his throat burns from the kid’s attempt on his life. “Hey, Night Claw,” he says in his deep, baritone voice.
Night Claw stops and turns to him, the moonlight illuminating her skin and braids, making them appear like twined silver. Aizawa swallows down the strange lump in his throat at the sight of her. “Nice boots,” he mutters.
She gives him a joyful smile. “You’re welcome,” she giggles. “I’ll be seein’ you around, Eraser.”
Then, without another word, she struts out of the museum and into the darkness, leaving Eraserhead alone, confused, and very, very aroused.
#shouta aizawa#shoutaaa#smutty smut#my fic shit#my works#here kitty kitty#bnha smut#black coded reader#black fanfic writer#black writers#aizawa x black!reader#shouta aizawa x black!reader
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I actually think it’s strategically stupid to ask women to forgo male protection and male financing without any kind of organized feminism to catch them. Feminists passionate about separatism need to educate themselves on the barriers women face when exiting misogynistic communities and family structures.
And no, just because you made it out doesn’t mean others can. There are scores of women behind you who didn’t make it. Who went insane from abuse, who developed addictions to cope, who are financially trapped, who experienced worse misogyny in the labor market then in a het relationship. Stop villanizing women acting in their own self interest and start organizing to give women BETTER OPTIONS.
I shouldn’t have had to choose between cosigning conversion therapy or staying in a misogynistic industry, my best friend shouldn’t have had to choose between homelessness and a dad who raped her, my first lover shouldn’t have to choose between a life of financial precarity and the sex industry and I cannot overemphasize that we were all rich lucky white women from the states. What’s it like for women of color? Women from states with worse education systems? Disabled women? What kind of rock are you living under where women aren’t doing the best they can to be financially secure and as free as possible *especially* in a cost of living crisis. And again, please don’t come at me with the “those criticisms are only white women with no problems who just CHOOSE” the women I am talking about are from wealthy white suburban families with boats and big retirement accounts we *are* the women you’re talking about. Just look at what happened to Brittney Spears and Rose McGowan, even “luckier” women who had huge parts of their lives destroyed because they took a stand for their own freedom. Were they just not “tough enough”? Get it through your fucking heads, no woman has an easy time of it, no women just “chooses” to comply with patriarchy for fun. We have three options, be kept precarious and in constant fear of male violence in the labor market, to participate in the running of the very system that oppresses us by allying with men or quit and try to become male ourselves. No women makes a “wrong” choice because all of these options are fucking terrible.
Women en masse aren’t unfree because they get stupid facial fillers or have boyfriends, women getting stupid facial fillers and having boyfriends is a symptom of how unfree women are and many women correctly see how allying with the right men can deliver them from poverty or financial insecurity.
Even middle class women with access to jobs that can pay the bills typically need to cosign a level of institutional patriarchy in order to do so, they become “administrators” to capitalism and are rewarded at the expense of their integrity. Think about all the teachers in the south who are forced to go along with anti-LGBTQ mandates, think about therapists who have to “diagnose” traumatized women with diseases that will stay in the medical records in order to get their insurance to cover therapy, think about the kind of misogynistic abuse women in tech or science take. GET.A. GRIP. IT SUCKS FOR EVERYONE.
And honestly, and I truly mean this, if you genuinely believe you are somehow better or stronger then most women who don’t “get it” I really question your commitment to women and to the project of feminism. It *is* delusional behavior to think that you aren’t one sexual assault, one lost job, one string of unlucky experiences away from trying to stockholm syndrome yourself into accepting male domination in a “relationship” or in the workplace. Without having to decide between sexual assault in a shelter or crashing with a “bf” who rapes you.
Without developing structures that can support women’s autonomy *we’re all* vulnerable to male predation and acting like it’s easy or even possible for women to shake that off not only shows an astounding lack of compasison but a naive and childish belief that your spirit is somehow above breaking. It’s not.
Like seriously please take it from me there is a limit to how much material, spiritual and physical abuse someone can take and so so so many more women then you think are dealing with horrible scary shit from the men in their lives and you can’t always tell what’s happening from behind a screen (or even in person). Even women who really, really annoy me or who are abusive themselves are reacting to male abuse in their own lives so please stop making the barrier to feminism contingent on doing the very things patriarchy makes it hardest to do.
PLEASE focus instead on making it easier for women to live away from men, on removing the ties between women’s financial security and their relationship to the men in their lives, on making women safer in public, on supporting mothers financially and with women’s labor.
It’s not reformism, it’s not choice feminism it’s accepting the reality of where we’re at and choosing to build women only infrastructure that will carry us to a post patriarchal future. That’s what doing the work is. It’s acknowledging where we are realistically as a society and committing to getting us where we need to go.
#radblr#radical feminism#radical feminist#radical feminist theory#radical feminists do touch#radfem safe#radfems#gender critical#radfem#char on char#like i went in the closst after getting hatecrimed and my friends getting correctively raped#even my rich friends have had horrible things happen to them because of their sexuality#IN NEW YORK#IN AMERICA#WE ALL HAVE COLLEGE DEGREES#Most of us more then that
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Did anyone ever send you spicy takes for literary analysis? If not, here's one: I wanna know where in the books people are getting the idea that in a boarding school in the UK in the '70s, MWPP and their classmates would ALL be some flavor of queer and also have the modern vocabulary to go with it.
I am still taking spicy takes! My week at work has been absolute chaos, so I haven’t had a chance to tackle some of these prompts yet.
But I’m going to push back a bit on ya (with love and respect, of course). Below the cut are some mentions of violence against LGBTQ+ folks, fyi.
No, I don’t think that the 1970s would have been a magical place full of openly queer teens with modern vocabulary (and weirdly cell phones?). But I do understand where it comes from. Imagine you’re a teen in 2024 where LGBTQ+ rights are being stripped away one by one in many western countries. Then imagine you’re a teen from the United States: you’re not 18 yet, you can’t vote, yet you are directly affected (or have friends who are) by anti-LGBTQ+ laws. Maybe you aren’t allowed to use a public restroom because you’re trans or maybe you have ultra-religious parents who would kick you out of the house if they found out you were gay or maybe there was a story circulating about a non-binary kid who was murdered by their peers in a bathroom at school…
So these things are all around you. You’re fifteen, and you feel absolutely powerless. Maybe you’re cut off from the queer community. Maybe you just wish there were a place where you could be around other queer teens who just GET you, who know what you’re going through. Okay, maybe you read Harry Potter when you were younger, and you find that there’s this fantasy world within the world of HP where the kids are cool and hot and wear whatever they want and say “fuck you, parents!” and they’re all in love with each other and at school, it’s all okay! The parents will never find out! This is the safe place!
While I have MANY critiques of this corner of fandom (the reinvention of heterosexuality with the hyperfeminization of Sirius and the hypermasculinization of Lupin, the blatant mischaracterization of MOST characters, etc.), I understand a young person’s hunger for it. It’s a fantasy. Plain and simple.
Do I personally find it more interesting to see what would happen if James and Sirius hooked up in an ultra-conservative pureblood society and were forced to confront internalized homophobia? YEAH. Is that an appealing story to someone who has to live that reality everyday? Ehhh…Maybe? Maybe not? It’s appealing to me because I like to explore human suffering lol. I love drama! I love complicated relationships. I love when fictional people love two people at once—I love MESSINESS (I love when they cheat! I love when they have miscommunication!). But here’s the difference—I am a thirty-something person who has a solid support system and acceptance within their community. I have the emotional space to accept complexities. Most teenagers do not have these things.
We have to remember that for everything an artist or writer creates, there’s an intent. Who is the audience? What is the effect on the reader of your stylistic choices? Is historical accuracy important to the overall message of the work? Does it detract from meaning/understanding?
My point is, sweet and beautiful Anon, you are probably right! There is plenty to critique (and I have complained about this side of the fandom before), but I accept that many young people are looking for community, and apparently this fandom created by a transphobic millionaire is where they found it.
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You guys treat ao3 like another social media website and forget it was created by an incest shipper. The reason ao3 exists is because astolat/naomi novik was TIRED of censorship and purges under arbitrary rules so I don’t know how your DNI’s even contribute to an archive that uses tags to search for and avoid content.
Also you can’t get “shadow banned” on ao3. Again, that’s a social media term and not for fanfic websites/archives
and if you’re sooooo upset about not being able to be nasty towards a certain kind of group, why are you using a website that honors its rules against harassment? Bet that ffnet/wattpad allow exactly that so come on. Use those as alternatives maybe! Critics united on ffnet welcome you too
1. “Proship DNI” is now harassment
2. “Naomi was TIRED of censorship” Proceeds to censor people they disagree with
3. Since alternatives exist, I am not allowed to criticize the choices of the biggest fanfiction site online
4. I never used the word “shadowbanned” what are you On
5. The entire Point Of My Post was pointing out the disgusting hypocrisy. AO3 allows people to not only put “antis DNI” (in very aggressive ways), but also be
disgustingly racist.
We’re talking about the website that let the fucking Derek Chauvin x George Floyd fanfic stay up, despite it being reported. I would be less upset if all transgressions from both side of the fence were being treated equally, but they Aren’t. It’s censorship, and it’s hypocrisy.
People are literally allowed to “be nasty” towards Actually Fucking Oppressed Groups on AO3 with no repercussion, but say “proship DNI” and your shit is deleted. And if you dare to point out the gross hypocrisy there, you get AO3 dickriders in your inbox treating you as if you said you wanted all proship people to game end themselves.
6. I Know this is either @skies-so-bluu or one of their followers, because this is literally the exact same talking points they made in the reblog of my post that I ignored and blocked them for, because it was purposefully missing the point. So heyyy! Feel free to try and ignore the boundaries set in my DNI now that anon is off 💖
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ROADRAGE
V stopped the Porsche, tires screeching into an abrupt halt, dust flying everywhere around the car. He got out of the driver's seat like he'd the devil on his ass.
And maybe that was more accurate than imagined. Johnny let out a mean laugh when V slammed the door and kneeled on his seat to crawl over the shift. His handsome face was twisted into a snarl, aviators firmly placed on his nose as he lowered the window completely.
V was shaking as he paced in front of the car. If he’d longer hair, he would be tearing it right now. As it was, he gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through the anger. It was rare nowaday that Johnny could work him like that, but the rocker had been in a foul mood the whole night, and talked shit without a break.
They’d been driving a while before V threw them on the side of this deserted road in the middle of the Badlands. A twenty minutes trip under Johnny’s constant belittling and nagging, and whining, and anti-corpo propaganda, and general criticism of V’s life choices.
Until he lost control.
“Aww, what’s the matter, babe?” Johnny sneered with a mean smile, “Did I get you all jealous?”
V closed his eyes and tried to find the patience and serenity needed to deal with Johnny when he got like that, but found none. He kept seeing the man slouched enticingly right next to that Animal psycho. She could’ve snapped his spine in three with her pinky but Johnny kept taunting her and making lewder and lewder suggestions. Worse was, she hadn’t been immune, her interest shifting from the business V had wanted her to conduct to the resurrected legend by his side.
Legs wide open, stretching his dark jeans until he might have torn them apart, Johnny had sagged in his seat, making his shirt ride up and flashing her with a hint of his flat stomach. V’s Kiroshis had zoomed despite his best intentions to her nostrils flaring, and her pupils dilating visibly.
Johnny had smirked, his victory visible to V from the corner of his eyes, making it clear this was entirely intentional.
That was when the merc snapped.
He opened his eyes and turned to Johnny. Like a cobra rising out of its basket, the man was now bent through the window, looking at him with anger.
“Is that why you headtailed out of that gig? Are you that gonk? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to make them heel for good and you botched it, why? ‘cause you can’t handle some cow making eyes at me?!”
“She wasn’t just making eyes at you,” V growled, stepping closer, pulled into the maelstrom surrounding Johnny like this was his first rodeo with the man.
The rocker laughed, out loud and cutting like a knife.
“So what?! It’s not like I couldn’t have taken her.”
“I don’t think that’s what she was thinking about,” the merc hissed through his teeth, nearly nose to nose with his friend.
Johnny’s face fell into a sneer, eyes like cold diamonds behind his glasses.
“Oh yeah? What was she thinking about huh?” he challenged, “Same thing you’re thinking about half the time, right? I don’t see where the problem is, V, if she was bold enough to try, maybe I should let her have a go.”
Jerking back and turning on his heels, V put some distance between them. He wasn’t gonna lose his cool, because that was exactly what Johnny had been looking for since he woke up yesterday.
“Let’s fucking go back, V,” Johnny growled, “right the fuck now.”
V only glared at him from over his shoulder, arms crossed.
“Get me back here so I can let her do what you’re obviously not capable off,” the man went on, pointing to the general direction of the city.
Amazingly, after his rebirth, Johnny had let V continue driving the Porsche. A clear proof of love if you believed Kerry and Rogue. V felt like this was a cursed gift because while Johnny insisted V drive him around, the man was on his ass the moment he took a too sharp turn, yapping on about his precious girl. The point was that Johnny liked to use V as his personal taxi, but the merc wasn’t in the mood right now.
“Drive yourself,” V replied, giving him the finger.
They looked at each other in stubborn silence, before Johnny smirked again.
“Fine,” he concluded, becoming liquid as he folded himself back into the car.
V blinked, experiencing a moment of doubt. Johnny wasn’t really gonna get back to that mammoth, right? He wasn’t gonna let her do what he’d hinted at, right?
But the rocker was also known for his stupid pride, and apparently this was now a matter of making V lose, whatever the cost.
As Johnny turned the key into the ignition, V stepped closer again, arms coming loose at his sides.
“You’re not really going back,” he declared.
Leaning into his seat and resting his metal arm on the windowsill, Johnny looked at V from over his glasses.
“What if I am? I mean, did you see her fingers? Bet it’s gonna feel amazing around my throat.”
In a last bid for wisdom, V tried to close his eyes again, like that had ever worked for anyone.
“Johnny…”
“V..” the man drawled the same way.
“You’re not going back to her.”
“Or yeah? You gonna do something to stop me?”
That was the question. V knew what Johnny was aiming at, he could understand the need crawling under his skin, but he generally turned to Kerry for that.
“Are you gonna stop me?” Johnny breathed again, mouth right by V’s ear. “Shut me up like you’ve been dreaming the whole way here?”
His voice brought shiver to V’s flesh, an excited frisson running down his spine.
“Or are you gonna choke up and chicken out? ‘Cause I bet she won’t. I bet she could hold me down and destroy me with just one hand.”
Before he realized, V had Johnny’s chin in a tight grip, fingers whitening around the rocker’s red mouth.
“Fine,” he snarled, “I’ll give it to you, bitch.”
[Continue reading on AO3]
#cp2077#cyberpunk 2077#johnny silverhand#male v#virtual photography#Johnny x V#silverV#to quote a friend#Johnny's calling is to be a bottom#nsft#it was supposed to be just a few lines#my curse
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