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danielfuckingricciardo · 2 years

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Private Party - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count - 4.1k

Content Warning - Swearing, Alcohol mention, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Synopsis - When the reader is snubbed by her awful friend in favour of her boyfriend, she finds herself alone until a certain racing driver buys her a drink and keeps her company for the evening.

Author’s note - I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to finish this one tonight, but look at me go! Also yeah I am on a bit of a Charles kick lately don’t @ me. Regularly scheduled programming, aka Daniel fucking on main, will resume shortly once I get my ass in gear and finish my many WIPs. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one, it’s nice and soft and sweet, unlike my other Charles fic! I tried something different with the structure of this one, trying to go for shorter paragraphs that make it a little easier to read, let me know if you think this is better, so far I’m vibing with it!!

Tonight was the night you’d been excited for all week. It was a Friday night, and thanks to your boss you’d managed to secure a place on the guest list of the exclusive Raffles nightclub in Chelsea. What you hadn’t anticipated, however, was that your best friend would invite her boyfriend along, leaving you to third-wheel again for the entire evening. You didn’t normally mind, he was a nice enough guy, and they made you feel included whenever you went anywhere together, but today you couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter. You were out to celebrate sealing a big contract, one that had impressed the CEO so much he had given you a promotion and your position on tonight’s guest list. Somehow it just didn’t feel so good that you wouldn’t be the focus on your big night, and would instead be stuck sipping a margarita while your friend and her man tasted each other’s tonsils beside you.

You step out of the taxi, and your friend Jemima and her boyfriend Elton follow behind you. The city is alight with the sounds and excitement of the oncoming weekend, one you would hopefully be welcoming while heavily plastered and sweaty on the dance floor. The bouncers stand outside in their suits, a warning sign for those not on the exclusive list to keep well away. You walk up to them, your entourage following behind looking slightly anxious as to whether they too will be allowed in alongside you. “(Y/N) (L/N)?” You ask the stoic looking man on the door, and he scrolls through the list of names on the iPad held tightly in his hands. “Come on in, Ms. (L/N), are these two with you?” He asks. “Yeah, they are.” You say, wrapping your arms around your almost bare torso to protect your body from the cool sting of the evening wind. “It says ‘ere you’re only allowed a plus one.” The man says, and you sigh. “Oh, but we’re all together if you know what I mean.” Jemima butts in, throwing a wink at the bouncer as she wraps her arms around both yours and Elton’s shoulders. The bouncer raises his eyebrow at the three of you, and Jemima squeezes your shoulder hard to try and get you to play along. Reluctantly, you do, leaning into her touch. “I shouldn’t really let you all in, but since your boss is one of our finest patrons, I’ll make an exception.” The bouncer responds, opening the door to allow the three of you in.

Once inside the club, you immediately shrug Jemima’s hand from your shoulder, turning to her with a bewildered look on your face. “What was that?” You ask, your brow furrowed in frustration. “He wasn’t going to let us in, and you weren’t doing anything to talk him round, so I thought I would.” She shouts over the noise of the club.

You shake your head at her and sigh as you wander towards the bar, Jemima and Elton hand-in-hand behind you. “If my boss now thinks I’m in a polyamorous relationship thanks to you, you’re off my Christmas card list this year.” You say in Jemima’s ear and she chuckles. “Nothing wrong with a good throuple.” She replies, laughing. “It’s not that, I just don’t like lying, not when it comes to work stuff. How am I supposed to tell him that my idiot friend lied to a bouncer so she could sneak her boyfriend into an exclusive club under my name?” “Oh, lighten up, I’ll get the first round in.” She says, nodding her head to the bartender. “You’d fucking better” You say, turning around to rest on the bar, looking out towards the dance floor.

The three of you had found yourselves in a booth in the corner of the room, and just as you’d anticipated, you were stuck sipping on your third drink of the night whilst Jemima and Elton eat each other’s faces in a way comparable to The Walking Dead. You take a glance over to them and sigh, before downing the rest of your drink. “I’m just going to the bar, do you want anything?” You shout over the music, but they either ignore you, or can’t seem to hear over the ambience of the club. Either way, you decide to give up on them, and wander to the bar alone.

The bar is crowded with patrons, all already considerably drunk despite the clock only reading 11:55. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a small side room, in which a bartender stands at his post, seemingly unoccupied. You glance once again at the crowded bar and roll your eyes, you were still far too sober to be contending with the mass of heaving bodies fighting for the bartender’s attention.

Slipping away from your position at the bar, you wander into the side room, immediately catching the attention of the staff member who was idly fiddling with the bottles on the counter. “Sorry Miss, this room is reserved for a private party.” The bartender says, and your eyes widen in embarrassment. “Ah, shit, sorry.” You say, turning away to leave, but before you can, a hand grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks. You turn around to face the man who had stopped you. He looked expensive, the way a lot of the clients you worked for often did. Not covered in logos and brands like many so called ‘rich’ people, but dressed smartly and cleanly in a pressed white shirt and dress pants, paired with a watch easily worth more than you make in a year. “I’ll have a scotch sour, and whatever the lady wants.” The man says to the bartender. “I’ll have the same, please” You smile to the bartender, and he nods, turning away from the two of you to begin preparing your drinks.

“Sorry for crashing you private party.” You say, offering your companion a shy smile. “I’m glad you did.” He responds, taking a seat on one of the velvet cushioned bar stools. He gestures for you to sit beside him, and you do, sliding carefully onto the seat and readjusting your dress to avoid exposing yourself to your new companion. “Are you alright?” He questions, noticing your discomfort in your seated position. “Yeah, fine, this dress seemed a lot longer than it is on the website, maybe the model was just short? So I’m now trying very hard to avoid flashing you, that’s something I normally save for the second date,” you begin to flush red, “Not that this is a date or anything I just, oh god I’m rambling now please tell me to shut up.” You say, looking down into your lap, your face now fully red and burning hot. “It suits you very well, red is most definitely your colour.” He laughs, and you feel yourself relax slightly. “It matches by bright red cheeks, and the bloodshot in my eyes.” You say, chuckling slightly.

“Your drinks, sir” The bartender says, sliding the two short glasses towards you on the counter. Your companion taps his card and the bartender disappears, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

“I’m (Y/N) by the way, I think it’s only right I learn your name too before I take a sip of the drink you so kindly purchased for me.” You say, your hand resting against the cold glass, a relief against your warm skin. “I’m Charles, you can drink now.” He laughs, and you obey, taking a sip of your beverage as he does the same. “So, what brings you here?” He asks, a small smile appearing on his lips. “You want the long version, or the short version?” You say, running your finger around the rim of your glass. “The long version, by all means.” He responds, and you nod your head, exhaling in preparation for your long winded retelling of the night’s events.

“She said you were having a threesome?” Charles exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter. “Pretty much! She wanted me to play along too, as if I would ever even consider doing anything with that fuckboy boyfriend of hers. Even the thought makes me want to barf.” You laugh, taking your first sip of the second drink that Charles insisted he buy for you. “She’s not a very good friend, to abandon you like that.” He says, offering you a sympathetic smile. “I know, but she’s all I’ve really got. Everyone else I met at uni has a fancy job somewhere or a proper family or whatever. She’s the only one who still lives in the city and is around to keep me company, even if I do have to third wheel on cinema trips or girls night.” You say, shaking your head. “She invites her boyfriend to girls night?” He questions, a shocked look on his face. “Yeah, she’s a fucking bitch really. I’ve been gone half an hour and she’s probably still too busy sucking her boyfriend’s face to have even noticed I’m not there.” You sigh, resting your head on your hand, and you elbow against the bar. “Why don’t we go over and show her what she’s missing out on?” Charles asks, quirking his eyebrow at you. “Won’t your private party friends be missing you?” You ask, before downing the rest of your drink. “They’re probably all already on the dance floor, or passed out somewhere.” He laughs, and you chuckle back.

Charles jumps up from his seat and offers you his hand, which you gladly take. You trip over your own feet as you try to stand, but luckily your new companion’s quick reflexes allow him to catch you before you fall. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you, his face filled with concern. “New shoes plus drinking multiple cocktails and not realising just how tipsy I am, is a killer combination.” You laugh as you steady yourself.

Charles holds your hand firmly as he pulls you back into the main room of the nightclub, which is somehow even busier than it had been when you left. He pulls you towards the centre of the dance floor where couples are grinding against one another to the beat of the music. “Do you see your friend?” Charles shouts in your ear, his lips grazing against the soft skin. “Over there!” You respond, pointing to Jemima and Elton who are practically fucking each other to the music.

You squeeze through the sea of bodies, holding Charles’ hand tightly to not lose him to the crowds. Jemima spots you, and pushes Elton away from her. “(Y/N)! I was wondering where you’d got to?” She shouts, pulling you in for a tight hug. The action causes you to pull Charles forward too, and he crashes against your back. “You and Elton were busy eating each other so I went to find some company.” You say, trying to suppress the bitterness in your voice. “Clubs are for snogging, not talking, (Y/N), you should find someone to snog instead of talking to me.” She says, before returning her mouth to Elton’s. Charles notices your grip on his hand tighten in frustration, and gives your hand two gentle queue es of reassurance. “Go fuck yourself, Jem.” You say, giving her the finger before releasing Charles’ hand and stomping away from the dance floor.

You could feel your anger rising within you. Your best friend was really going to fob you off on the night you were supposed to be celebrating your promotion? She was no best friend of yours anymore. You head for the exit, and immediately feel the cool air on your skin as you settle against a railing in the smoking area. Your hands were shaking with frustration, the alcohol coursing through your system amplified your anger a hundred times. You take a shaky breath in and out to try and calm yourself down.

“You okay?” You hear in a familiar voice. You look across to see Charles resting beside you, offering a small smile of reassurance. “I’m fucking done with her. I can’t believe it took until tonight for me to see what a shitty best friend she was.” You say, hanging your head in shame.

Charles reaches out towards you, his fingers gently caressing the underside of you chin to bring your head up to face him. “You’re better off without her, mi amor.” He whispers, his face barely millimetres away from your own. “I suppose you’re right. You can’t lose what you never really had, and she was never really a friend.” You say, biting your lip. “My hotel is next door, we could go get a drink there and you can complain about what a bad friend she is to me all night, if you’d like?” He asks, releasing his soft grip on your chin to once again offer you his hand to take. You lace your fingers in his, and he smiles, raising his eyebrows to ask for verbal confirmation. “That’d be nice, thank you.” You respond, and you leave the club, heading for Charles’ hotel.

The hotel lobby was fancier than any you’d ever seen before, and you noticed as your heels clicked against the marble floors as you wandered towards the elevator. “One moment, mi amor.” He whispers in your ear before separating from you, your hand missing its contact with his as he rushes over to the concierge desk. They exchange a few inaudible words before he returns to you, the elevator doors opening for the two of you to step inside. “The bar has closed for the night, but I ordered some drinks up to my room, is that okay?” He asks, and you nod. “Of course” You reply, joining your own hands together before you to mimic the contact you had previously with Charles.

You’d never thought that this would be how the night would end, with you going up to a stranger’s hotel room. You’d expected to fall into a cab, eat some crappy takeout food, and fall asleep on the sofa and be awoken the next morning with your cat Trixie laying on your face. You could tell that Charles’ intentions were pure, he didn’t seem like the sort of guy who would immediately try it on with you once you reached his room. Those sort of guys wouldn’t listen to some random woman ranting on and on about her shitty friend all night with the hopes of getting a quick shag later. However, you couldn’t help but wonder if the thought of sleeping with you had crossed his mind, as it certainly had crossed yours. You hadn’t intended on thinking about it, but the gentle touches and reassuring squeezes he had given you throughout the night had sent your mind racing. He was easily one of the most attractive guys you had ever seen, he could have easily spent the night with any of the beautiful girls in the club had he wanted to. And yet, here he was with you, waiting to listen and reassure you after breaking up with your only friend in the world.

Your phone beeps in your bag, and you check it - Jemima. You sigh and roll your eyes, unlocking your phone to the paragraph long message she had sent you. You scan it briefly, not really caring what she has to say, picking out the odd phrase like ‘drama queen’ and ‘can’t you just be happy for me’ and ‘it’s not all about you’ and finishing with ‘you should just fucking get laid you uptight bitch so you can stop being so jealous of me and Elton’. “Good fucking riddance.” You say, typing out a quick, ‘fuck you Jemima, hope you have a nice life x’ and immediately blocking her contact in your phone. “Your friend?” Charles asks, and you nod.

The elevator beeps, and the two of you exit, following behind Charles as he reaches his room and unlocks it. “She thinks I’m jealous of her boyfriend, like bitch please, I know for a fact he has a side piece.” You say, taking a seat on the edge of the king-size bed. “Does she know?” Charles asks, removing his suit jacket and throwing it haphazardly onto a chair. “I told her, but she doesn’t want to know. Anyway, she called me an uptight bitch and said I should get laid or whatever, so fuck her. She’s out of my life now, and I couldn’t care less about her or her cheating fucking boyfriend.” You say, the drink in your system making you feel almost too comfortable in Charles’ hotel room, allowing you to flop back into the soft white sheets of the bed.

Charles takes a seat beside you, mirroring your position exactly and reaching out his hand for you to take once again. “She told you to get laid?” Charles laughs in bewilderment, and you nod your head against the sheets. “Yeah, she did, cheeky bitch. My love life has been pretty dry recently, not that she’d know considering the only thing she ever wanted to talk about is her bastard boyfriend.” You respond, turning inwards to face Charles. He does the same, resting his head atop his spare hand, his eyes not leaving yours for a moment. “Without her, you might have more time to rehydrate your love life, perhaps?” He questions, raising his eyebrow at you and you laugh. “Yeah, right, unless it happens before Monday morning when I get my promotion I have literally no chance whatsoever.” You say, offering him a sad smile.

“There’s still tonight, mi amor.” Charles says, squeezing your hand lightly. “Considering I left the club, I don’t think I really have many options other than- oh…” You say, the implication of what he had said hitting you mid sentence. “I don’t want you to think I brought you back to my hotel room for this, I promise I didn’t I just- you’re beautiful, and funny, and interesting, and I’d regret it every day if I didn’t take my chance to tell you.” He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back, giving his hand an identical squeeze while trying to thing of the right thing to say. “At risk of sounding really fucking desperate, I was rather hoping this is where the whole drinks in your room thing was gonna go.” You admit, laughing slightly at your alcohol-fuelled admission.

Charles releases your hand and brings his own up to caress the side of your face, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip. He leans in towards you, your lips almost brushing together, before you are interrupted by a knock at the door. You and Charles can’t help but laugh to each other at the concierge’s excellent timing. “Room service, I’ll leave these outside.” The man shouts, before disappearing footsteps can be heard down the corridor.

“Thank god, I thought I was actually going to have to leave you alone on this bed.” Charles says against your lips and you smile. “I wouldn’t have let you leave.” You respond, before closing the gap between your lips and connecting them in a sweet kiss, Charles gently strokes the side of your face with his fingers, playing with loose strands of hair as he does so.

As you pull away, you immediately adjust your position, kicking your shoes to the ground and straddling Charles against the bed. Your dress bunches around your thighs as he runs his hands up and down your bare legs, the tips of his fingers edging closer and closer to your core. “I thought you only flashed guys on the second date?” He asks, a smirk appearing on his lips as he echoes your earlier comment. “This isn’t a date, remember.” You respond, pulling your dress up and over your head to reveal your black strapless bra that was hidden beneath it. Charles’ hands travel up your body, reaching the fastener and unhooking it, allowing the bra to fall to the floor, replacing it with his own soft, warm hands against your breasts.

“Are you sure you want to do this, mi amor?” He asks you, and you grind down against him in response, eliciting a small moan from the man below you. “Would I be here naked in your hotel room if I didn’t?” You respond, letting out a small laugh as your hands reach for the waistband of his suit pants, against which his cock is already straining, begging to be set free. “That is true.” Charles says as he continues to massage your breasts, the sensation driving you crazy and making your hands shake as you fight with Charles’ zipper.

You manage to pull down his suit pants and underwear, allowing his already erect cock to spring free. You wrap your hand around the base and caress from bottom to tip, causing a string of curse words to fall from Charles’ mouth. Sitting up onto your knees, you allow Charles to pull down your underwear, adjusting your position to allow them to be discarded onto the floor with your bra and dress.

Charles’ hands settle on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into your flesh as you position yourself above him. You slowly lower yourself down, allowing time for you to adjust to his size within you. His eyes never leave yours as you begin to ride him, starting slowly before falling into a steady pace. “Fuck, Charles, you fill me up so good.” You groan, the sensation of him within you driving you crazy. The air is filled with the sound of sex; grunts, moans and expletives from the both of you as you fuck each other. Charles’ hands move further up your back as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his torso up from the bed so his chest presses against yours. You adjust your position, wrapping your legs around his body, pulling him even closer than you ever thought was possible, allowing him to thrust up, deeper into you.

He hits your sweet spot, and you throw your head back in pleasure, your mouth falling open as a filthy moan falls from your lips. You continue your movements, Charles’ hands helping you as you rise and fall against him, your body growing weaker and weaker as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, mi amor, I’m close” Charles says between shallow breaths. He buries his head into your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your collar bone, his soft hair tickling your chin. “So am I, my love” you respond, no longer able to control the sounds coming out of you as the feeling of pleasure within you intensifies.

Charles’ hips buck up into you, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a wave, and you ride out the blissful feeling, nestling your head into his neck as you do so. The sensation of your undoing leads to Charles’ own orgasm, and he cums inside you, releasing a pornographic moan against your skin as he does so. “Fuck (Y/N)” He whispers against your flesh, and you cant help but chuckle into his own neck in response.

Charles falls back against the mattress, pulling you with him into the sheets. You cuddle into him, wrapping your arms around his toned chest, resting your head against his shoulder as you lift yourself off of him. You wrap one of your legs around his, making sure that every part of you is touching him somehow.

“We still have drinks outside, you know?” You mumble sleepily against his chest. “If I wasn’t leaving you earlier, I am definitely not leaving now.” Charles responds, chuckling slightly as he raises his hand to lovingly play with your hair, twirling certain strands around his fingers. “Can I stay here with you tonight, I don’t much feel like getting a taxi home right now?” You ask. “Of course, mi amor, though I do have to be at work early tomorrow.” He says, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies to protect them from the cold.

“I never asked, what exactly is it you do?” You ask him, your eyes beginning to close as you fight to stay awake. “I’ll tell you in the morning, mi amor.” Charles responds with a smile. You feel your heavy eyelids give up and you decide not to try and open them again, and fall asleep cozily tucked in Charles’ embrace.

#Charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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unorthodoxdeity · 2 years

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that last post didn't scratch the itch im making a long post. all my thoughts. all my opinions. my life story. this literally does not matter and is paragraphs of bullshit but i dont want to feel like im operating with a filter so im putting it out. your regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly but for now this is happening.

Okay so I've been in fandom spaces for a while. They've morphed and changed quite a bit. I think they have all the same problems just manifested differently. It also feels more isolated. They feel quieter. I don't know if it's because most of my fandoms are dead and I havent adapted well to whatever else is happening but it feels like fandom culture is on its deathbed in a way. Well not fandom culture as a whole, that will always exist in some form. I think its moreso just a metamorphosis mixed with me being into older content with smaller followings. This is just my view. I have zero wider perspective on what the whole is like. I couldn't tell you of any big places to talk about fandom related things that aren't vaguely tumblr and twitter. There will always be dedicated pockets of something. This is just about my pocket. The whole it's more isolated thing is also probably just my problem.

I've seen the shipping debate happening my entire time here. It's always existed in different ways. I think there are a lot of ways you could define both sides. I think there are a lot of things both sides have to argue over. It depends on the person and how they view the debates really. I know a lot of people define it on terms of harassment and others define it on terms of what they're morally okay with harassment or no harassment.

I'm not going to attempt to pin definitions on either side currently mostly because I just don't care. I think that miscommunication is what stifles a lot of progress though. There isn't reslly much to progress to either way. People will do what they think is right and its not like there's any solid achievable end goal for either side (in my eyes, someone might have a reachable goal idk).

I've been involved with the debate a lot. When I was like 10-12 I was a proshipper by definition I guess. I didn't call myself that. I didn't care I just shipped what I wanted.

When I grew a bit older and started getting involved with more online debate I became an anti. I actually called myself that one. I don't know what flicked the switch. I think I was turned off by the gung ho "I'm going to draw fucked up shit for shock value" attitude a lot of proshippers had. It was the whole "these damn puriteens" "get minors off the internet" and general talking down to people who had legitimate concerns thing that ruffled my feathers looking back. I know most proshippers are not like this. I also know a lot of it wasn't for shock value.

There were a lot of reasons people did the things they did. Some were coping, some were approaching it with the same attitude I had when I was 12. A lot of them were sick and tired of people trying to talk down to them with their concerns as if they had the full moral highground. Nobody really likes the holier than thou attitude unless they agree with the person I've found which is reasonable. Who wants to be told what to do?

That carried on. I debated with people with the same high horse that I hated on other people. Then I got tired. Every time I opened my phone my heart was racing it was so dumb lmao. Arguing was like crack. I eventually realized that and just stopped. It wasn't just the shipping debate I was involved in those stupid identity politics and was involved with more important actual politics and debating homophobes and people who were probably trolls. Probably not the healthiest thing in the world. Did not do my health any favors. One day i just stopped.

I don't know what flipped that switch I think I just tuckered myself out. I didn't go on social media much. I went outside and touched grass as I had told so many people to do. The grass was nice. The sun was shining and there were even trees and real people (woah).

Then quarantine eventually happened and I was inside and online. I wasn't in my old unhinged frenzy though, I actually went back and deleted all of my accounts to start from scratch. I had no opinions on much fandom discourse and the opinions I did have I just kept to myself. I still saw things that pissed me off but that wasn't my problem.

I downloaded tumblr again after like years. Joined fandom spaces. Once again was faced with that old discourse. Ironically enough a ship I had enjoyed was confirmed to be incest and I was in such a quarantined haze at that point I just said fuck it and forced myself to agree with proshippers and quite literally abandoned any moral values I had. Looking back that was so funny. I never treated it like a fall from grace. I treated it like a fuck you.

It wasn't that dramatic or anything. I wasn't punching the air and seething when I saw either side. I was moreso just doing what I wanted because I could and happened to interact with proshippers so I just like called myself that. I became more involved with their values and oh boy my horse is getting higher!!!

I think that's just a problem I have when it comes to any sort of debate. I get really full of myself. That's fucking annoying I know. Anyways as I was flexing how cool and subversive I was I realized I wasn't having fun anymore. That happened any time I got too wrapped up in an ideology. It was no longer about the thing it was about the approach to the thing. I did a similar thing with identity politics. I wasn't me I was my labels.

I feel like this was a really bad representation of how I was as a proshipper. I kind of framed it as me intentionally agreeing with them but it wasn't just that. It was like another flip switched but it was also moreso me swallowing my pride and that pride getting replaced with a different kind of pride. I wasn't in as much as an unhinged frenzy because I had set rules on How I can debate. (No debating after 9pm, you can not respond if they don't respond in under 10 minutes, if you call them names you have to stop ect.). It was tamer because I had to learn how to be tame and I did. It worked. The rules started to become more rigid and my urge to debate almost depleted.

I stopped focusing outward and returned to how I was when I was 12 almost. I shipped my fuckshit and had an occasional gloat about my moral superiority over those damn antis. Nothing really special for a twitter user.

I made friends during my stay in both communities. They were all good people. None of the people I befriended threatened anybody or did anything you heard from those horror stories. None of them were pedophiles. They were just opinionated nerds most of which had trauma that guided their opinions. You were also bound to be outcast if you disagreed with them though. It's how relationships formed based off opinions go, especially online.

I don't talk to any of them anymore, there was no fight we just drifted apart. That was okay. I can't say my stay in either community was better or worse than the other. I think most of it was determined by my self control. How much I would indulge in being vile to someone and having them be vile back in retaliation. I did forget to have fun along the way in both though.

I've come to the conclusion I don't necessarily like being part of any community. I don't like the culture of either.

For starters I don't like how people on both sides will accuse the other of being pedos (proshippers accusing antis of projecting, antis accusing proshippers of being pedos because of fiction). It's just baselessly throwing around something that's become a buzzword.

I don't like how a lot of fetishization gets wrapped up in the proship community (specifically towards trans people). I don't like how poppytwt formed (i know a lot of proshippers agree with me on this one) or rpf. I don't like how both sides call the other cult like because it's also baselessly throwing buzzwords around. The comparisons of legitimate real world issues sparked by religious institutions also rubs me entirely the wrong way.

I don't like how some antis feel the need to "punish" proshippers. It's not your place and once you start hurting real world people over fiction you're just making yourself into the badguy in the situation. I've also seen proshippers intentionally go out of their way to give antis similar treatment. Equally dumb. Neither community is a hivemind but yknow. Those sour apples exist everywhere.

I think i just generally don't like being told what to do or dictated. Yes that's childish I know.

Idk I think both have their reasons. Like yes it's just fiction and yes fiction does have impacts, I think those can coexist. When it comes to harassment I don't think that's cool in any context when it spawns from fiction. That probably makes me a proshipper in a lot of people's books and like if that's your framework of viewing it cool.

I think I've just chosen to like. Win the game by not playing. I'm not either purely because I choose not to be and just do what I want outside of that. That's probably annoying. Which is fair.

I don't hate people that choose to allign themselves with either side they're not like less than or anything. If you're not going around harassing anybody then you're always chill. Like idk just because I find the debate annoying and tiresome doesn't mean I find most people like that. If that makes any sense idk. Moreso to say its my problem not yours. Like most of my distaste for debate comes from what I've experienced due to my own lack of self control.

It also kinda feels like running with a filter though. Like I'm so worried about getting back to that point I avoid saying half the things I want to say. Then that leads to a little burnout of its own because of some weird obligatory feeling.

I think most ppl here are chill like nobody is too wrapped up in their own ideology that they stop having fun like I was. Their opinions are the side dish not the main course which is respectable and difficult to do if you struggle with your horse getting some fucking Growth Spurts like I do.

I don't know why I'm posting this here exactly. I think its to show where I'm coming from and removing the filter ig. I think I've generally gotten better at containing myself that I can say things and not feel the need for it to spiral into a month long debate with someone. The horse is off steroids ig. I acknowledge that I'm still probably very unlikable to a lot of people which is fine it can be offputting no matter where you lean.

Okay thoughts organized into very chaotic long post back to blorbo shitto posting

#long post #discourse

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