Racism in bandom and the entire music scene is an enormous problem, one that a lot of white people would like to ignore. Let me make it clear: we cannot ignore this. In the last few days I’ve seen some truly horrifying things said to and about people of color who are taking on the emotional labor and the pain and stress of confronting this racism. This cannot be excused or brushed under the rug.
If you’re a white person here on tumblr and you’ve seen some of these posts where people of color talk about the hardships and racism they’ve faced as nonwhite fans of bands and ignored it, you’re complicit in this. [edit: that is to say - if you’re ONLY reblogging posts about it but not taking the time to change your actions and learning then you’re complicit, not that by not reblogging them you’re complicit.] I’m not saying you have to reblog every post like this you see - blindly reblogging to “prove” you’re not racist does nothing. I’m saying that when you see these posts and hear about these experiences you need to THINK about how you engage with people of color AND with racist people in the spaces you’re in. You need to LISTEN to the non white people making these posts and believe their experiences and adjust your own behavior accordingly.
Back when MCR was actively touring there were lots of conversations about the racism directed at Ray Toro in fandom spaces, and now with FOB returning we’re going to see a lot of that racism return and be directed at Pete Wentz. This is important not to ignore, and it’s important to think about how you talk about these individuals and how this contrasts with how you talk about their white bandmates. Even more importantly though is how you engage with the non white people HERE, on tumblr, in bandom spaces, and at shows. It’s great you think Ray or Pete are attractive or appreciate their music and their talent, but how are you treating the people of color around you? Are you listening to them when they talk about their experiences and racism and try to adjust your behavior? Or do you pat yourself on the back for reblogging a call out post and move on with your day?
These conversations are going to continue throughout the next year as FOB begins their tour and this racism start to pop up more and more, and you need to be prepared to think critically about your own biases and where you need to change and be actively anti-racist in your spaces.
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Let me just uh, set some hard fucking boundaries with some of you people in regards to MY relationship.
Do not keep questioning my choices on MY relationship.
First of all, you're not in this relationship. Let me mess up and find out, if worse comes to worst. Let me fuck around and find out. I'm not going to blame you for not warning me, don't worry. Seriously. So stop questioning me.
Don't keep asking me, "Why don't you label things with him? I think it's bullshit that there are no labels. What's the POINT of this relationship if you're not labelled as such and such? You're just wasting your time. Stop that. It's weird. This doesn't seem right to me. Why call it exclusive if there's no labels?"
Let me fucking date how I want, damn. Let me be in a goddamn relationship how I want, without me needing to explain myself to you. You, who I don't even know. You, who's not even a mere acquaintance of mine. Even my friends aren't questioning me, so who are YOU to question me when you know virtually NOTHING about our relationship?
Why are YOU, as someone who doesn't know the full fucking picture, trying to enforce your rigid little rules onto ME? If you like labels and only commit strictly with someone once those labels are established, good for you! Do you!
But don't go on the internet, read the stuff someone shares (which doesn't paint the whole picture, mind you, because I'm not sharing my whole goddamn life biography on here) and then go running into their inbox and yell at them for their choices, or because their choices differs from yours. Don't do that because you don't KNOW them. Don't act like you know everything from the small details you've read. Yes, I share things on here, but only things I'm comfortable sharing. Surface level shit, basically.
What you think is normal isn't always someone else's normal. Please remember that.
The way some of you act in my inbox... It's embarrassing at best and disgustingly rude and kind of intrusive and also insulting at worst. And because you've got the anon feature on, you think you can just say anything. (That's a whole other rant I've been wanting to get off my chest. I've got a few drafts I've never posted that are from months ago lmfao).
Now, to tone down the aggressiveness for a fraction of as second, I get you care about me and it's probably coming from a good place, but I am TWENTY. THREE.
Let me remind you.
TWENTY THREE.
Not three.
Not thirteen.
TWENTY. FUCKING. THREE.
I can make my own decisions. I am a legal adult, probably moreso than some of you out here coming into my inbox and full on trying to start an interrogation with me like I did something wrong for wanting to do things MY way for MY relationship.
And SLIGHTING me for my choices is where I'm setting the hard boundary at.
DO NOT, and I repeat:
DO NOT...
...under any circumstances, come into my inbox and act like I'm a dumb fucking bitch. (I am a dumb fucking bitch, but I'm also a self aware dumb fucking bitch. There's a difference.)
I know what I'm doing, I know the consequences, I know what I'm in for. I'm not fucking stupid and naive. I'm not a 13 year old about to start her first relationship with her high school crush.
So stop treating me like a donkey, and stop questioning my choices. Remember, as harsh as this sounds, some of you need to hear this and REALISE this: You've got no place in my life to do that. Absolutely fucking none.
Learn to read the room and learn that there are lines that shouldn't be crossed.
OH, I need to add this here. Before some of you come into my inbox and ask me WHY I'm sharing shit if I'm not open to opinions on my choices... There's a difference between opinions and civil discussions, and crossing someone's boundaries and questioning their choices because you think YOUR way of doing things is the right way to do things.
Just because I share some stuff on here doesn't mean that warrants you an automatic pass to shit on my choices. Fuck that bullshit, because that's just shitty behaviour and you need to look inwards and realise you're doing a lot more harm than good by being a piece of shit to someone you essentially do not know.
Remember, if you won't say this shit to someone in real life while looking them in the eyes, then don't fucking say it on anon in some stranger's inbox. That's a dick move, and you're a prick if you do that. Fix yourself, for the sake of humanity.
That is all.
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In an effort to try write something anything I’ve asked various people to give me a word. I’ll add the micro flashes here as they come out
1. Thigh
If handed a pen and a piece of paper TK could map out Carlos’s thighs from memory. Every curve of firm muscle, every dip of soft flesh, the scar he got riding his bike when he was twelve, the soft hair that dusts them. All of it is burned into TK’s living memory.
When he’s not with him he can see them so clearly in his mind's eye. He can picture the way they tense when he comes and trembles when he desperately needs to. His fingers ghost over phantom scratches he’s left behind on the outside of his husband’s thighs a few nights prior.
They’ll be there, under his uniform, standing raised against golden brown skin.
The inside of his thigh starting to purple in a delicate pattern of bruises from TK’s mouth that morning.
Fuck.
He knows them better than he knows his own. He’s traced his fingers along the veins when they’ve had lazy Sundays wherein Carlos lay on his stomach and read trusting TK to amuse himself, and he’s tasted the salty sweet sweat that peppers his skin when he’s been working out and TK dragged him to bed. He’s felt the power in them when Carlos fucks up into him. How they feel squeezing against his sides, trapping him in place, in a warm safety he’s never felt before.
Work is slow. The energy in the firehouse is low and there nothing to occupy TK’s thoughts away from his husband’s thighs.
It’s criminal they’re attached to the man who’s across the other side of the city.
2. Knife
TK knows that there is probably some deep seated, psychological, issue at play in his unconscious mind right now but he’s pushing it to the side to admire his husband’s knife work.
Well, more like drool over it.
He’s seen Carlos cook a thousand times but it feels like this is the first time he’s really seen it.
He’s finely chopping peppers as he talks idly about his day in that sweet, soothing, tone of voice that comes deep from inside of his chest. The kind that calms the voices in TK’s mind and ebbs away his anxiety like cold water in a stream.
TK isn’t listening to a word. He’s transfixed on the way he has the knife gripped in his hand, it’s secure but not too firm, there’s enough movement from the handle that it works as an extension of him. The blade flashes teasingly as it slices through the vegetable with ease. They rhythmic thumpthumpthump on the chopping board is syncopating with TK’s own heartbeat.
Why is he sweating?
The muscles in Carlos’ forearm flexes with every commanding chop of the knife and TK’s mouth goes dry.
“Babe?” The word floats towards him languidly before settling in his brain. He snaps his eyes up to Carlos’ concerned ones.
The concerned expression vanishes as quickly as it came and a smug tug on his lips appears instead, “you good?”
“Bed,” TK says, he misses suave and alluring by a mile and lands on croaky, “forget dinner let’s go to bed.”
Whether or not the knife stays in the kitchen is between them.
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i dont really care if something has bad writing like. im aware of that going in and if it does what it sets out to do then--as far as the general writing quality goes--its whatever to me, mostly, cause any other critique or gripe i have of it can rest on top of "but at least its hitting its own target (or doing its best to)" overall i tend to have an attitude of "everyone starts somewhere" and "even bad writing can be entertaining" and "art is art, creation is creation, etc" so like. even if i won't call bad writing good, im like. idc it can just Exist yknow.
what Really irritates me is when bad writing acts like its good with zero self awareness. when they have lost the plot of their own plot (if they ever had it to begin with). when bad writing acts like its reinventing the wheel or the best thing since sliced bread when it is in fact just a really shitty wheel and a stale loaf. and all my other critiques and gripes can thus boil down to "what are you even doing!! where are you going!!!" bonus irritation points whenever a fan(base) refuses to acknowledge all this as well.
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look. the way she said "reagan and brett" specifically. if she was just talking about them as characters why not mention the others? why not say "their endings"? breagan was absolutely endgame wasn't it? i'm going to go fucking feral. ron and reagan failed as a couple because ron needed more from her, he needed someone who would put him above all else, and reagan cannot do that. her work means everything to her, and she'd never be happy without it. that doesn't mean that she's incapable of being in a healthy relationship, it just means she needs to be with someone who understands that.
and here we have brett. someone who understands that about her, who knows her quirks and insecurities and that her prioritising her work doesn't mean she cares any less about the people that matter to her. and, importantly, he doesn't need 24/7 supervision and attention. he's clingy and emotionally damaged, sure, but that doesn't manifest in the same way it did for staedtler. he isn't burdened with how much he hates his job, and he can handle being without a partner. literally just get this man a dog and he'll be golden while reagan is busy. i'm so furious we'll presumably never get to see this play out. i wanted that build up, baby!! the build up of their relationship platonically has been so good and i wish i could've seen those sparks of romance between them before they finally got together. and how would they have gotten together, too? who would've asked who? would someone outside of them have to step in? or can you imagine gigi having to hype brett up to ask reagan on a date? that would've been so fucking cute dude. and honestly, even if they weren't going to get together but would simply be single together, i'd take that too. god. ghgfhdgnsjfdnkfnsng inside job deserved better send tweet
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