i think the second biggest reason why the "queer community" upsets me so bad (the first being that its a literal slur being reclaimed by people who have no right to reclaim it) is how SSA oppression has branched out to be claimable by anybody who isnt a cishet religious tradwife breadwinner sex through the sheets blonde-haired republican.
it falls in line with the current phenomena of what i like to call "inclusive oppression," typical of oxymoronic progressive politics in the modern day. "queer" is the new alt subculture, and yet its used as a catch-all term that very purposefully implies a homosexual identity, so everyone can have a piece of oppression pie.
i mean, the assumption of using the term is very clearly same-sex attraction, and they know this. queer as a slur has always been aimed at homosexual people—and yes, gnc people, bisexual people, trans people, etc are called homophobic slurs because the assumption is that they're homosexual. don't even try to play ignorant.
so now, you have a term forcing all manner of people under the same banner. from hetero kinksters to paraphiles to men wearing nail polish to homosexuals, and everything in between. everyone is welcome in the queer community! queers are the freaks, the weirdos, the perverts! queer is a good thing! let your freak flag fly! embrace your sexuality!
(nevermind the homophobic undertones of non-homosexuals co-opting a term used to call our sexuality abnormal so they can, at best, pretend their hetero relationship experiences oppression, and at worst, normalize their own abnormal sexual kinks/fetishes.)
and who is seen as the primary enemy of these people? the group the slur has been actually weaponized against, who doesn't want to be referred to as the slur that's still used against them.
summary: emily comes home after a long day and all she wants to do is hold you
tags: fluff, cuddling, big spoon!emily, hurt/comfort if you squint, established relationship, early seasons emily, lesbian!emily, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n
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Sleeping through the night is hard. It's especially frustrating when you don't have the familiar grip of your girlfriend's arms around your waist, or her warm chest flush against your back.
Emily's always insisted on being the big spoon. It's something non-negotiable for her. She'd never admit it, though, and you'd never question her on it. It feels too good to be held, and you've spent your entire day waiting for her to climb into bed with you.
That's why you always seem to know exactly when the mattress dips on her side, waking you from the slumber that can never be quite that deep without her anyway. You smile when you feel the soft skin of her arm glide across your waist and the soft puff of her breath against the back of your neck. You don't know why you try to pretend you're still asleep. It never works.
"Missed you," Emily murmurs against your skin where she presses a kiss so soft you can barely feel it. Your once even breathing falters when you take in the smooth, low tone of her voice and her dark hair tickling your shoulder. You feel her lips curl upward against the back of your neck and you know you've been caught.
"You gonna answer me, or are you gonna keep pretending to be asleep?" She teases.
"You're annoying," you smile as you press your back further against her chest. She tightens her hold on you in response. "Did you have a good day?" You ask, and she lets out a soft sigh.
"Define good," she mumbles, and you know what's coming. Emily's cautious about burdening you, but she's always open about the persistent hollow burrowed in her gut by her occupation. "I just wonder if it even makes a difference."
"You helped people. That's always good," you reassure her, and she presses her face between your shoulder blades. It nearly makes you burst with the urge to turn around and squeeze her the same way she so perfectly holds onto you. But you know better. Right now she needs this.
She needs something solid and reliable to hold onto. Needs to feel every minute shift of your body when you take a breath, and the way your skin warms under her fingertips. She holds you tight, but her grip is also so painfully soft and careful that it takes everything in you not to blurt out every mushy feeling in your chest for her. You settle for something simpler, but not any less true.
"I love you," you say, and it's not just to appease or comfort her. You mean it now just as much as you do when she's rambling off a passage of a favorite novel to you, syllables spilling out of her mouth faster than her breath can keep up with them. You mean it just as much as when you've done something admittedly foolish and you see her lip quirk up, knowing she's about to make you laugh by poking fun in that wry, dorky way that only she knows how to do.
"You love me enough to give me a kiss?" She asks with a thin veil of humor, but you hear that vulnerable edge to her voice, like you're the only thing grounding her.
You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder, and your tummy does a pleasant flip when your eyes lock with hers, big and brown and so beautifully soft even in the darkness of your bedroom. Your gaze drops to her lips, perfectly curved into little half-moons at the cupid's bow and slightly parted in anticipation. You forget why you turned around in the first place.
The callouses on her fingers don't stand a chance at taking away from the gentle sensation on your jaw as she carefully cradles it, guiding your face closer to hers. Her lips are nothing but a tickle against yours, and your chest furls with something tight and almost painful when you feel the slight tremble of her mouth. You press your lips more firmly against hers, in desperate need to reconnect after the long hours of distance, but also to show her that you're here. You're hers and you're not going anywhere. She's enough just as she is.
You know your remedy is doing the trick when her hand finds your waist, gently tugging you to face her without breaking the kiss for more than a millisecond. Her arms curl around you almost protectively, but it's just as much for her sake as it is yours.
When your lips part, you finally see the faintest smile start to form as she soothingly strokes your lower back with her thumb.
"Thanks. I love you too, by the way," she says, her voice soft and just a bit lighter than it was when she first sank down beside you.
"Oh, so now you can say it once you get a kiss. Greedy," you tease, because of course you have to get her back for her smart-ass tendencies that you cherish so much.
Your chest feels lighter than it has in days when you hear the tiniest giggle escape her lips, the sound so soft it's almost indistinguishable from a breath. You close your eyes and nuzzle your cheek against her chest, positioning your ear just so, making sure you can hear the steady thump of her heart. You smile when it speeds up ever so slightly at the first hook of your leg over her hip.
"Night," she says softly as she keeps you securely in her grasp, soothed by the silent reassurance that she'll have you in her arms tonight.
author’s note: this is my first ever fic!! i’m super nervous about posting this, but emily is such a good muse i couldn’t help but write about this headcanon i have for her. please let me know if you enjoyed and/or would want to read more fic like this!
I am so sick of the myth that "men suffer in silence," because the reality is they don't do anything in silence. A man cannot occupy a physical, social or emotional space without expanding to consume it entirely. From manspreading on public transit to demanding the emotional labor of everyone around them, their existence is inherently loud, invasive and deeply entitled. They move through the world expecting the entire room to shift around their comfort, forcing women to literally jump out of the sidewalk just to avoid harassment.
The idea that they are quiet, silent sufferers is a joke when you look at how much room they violently and casually steal every single day. If a man is inconvenienced, the whole world has to hear about it. If he is angry everyone around him has to manage his behavior. They don't suffer in silence. They make their presence, their entitlement and their general audacity everyone else's problem by default, and then expect a medal for "enduring" a world built entirely for them.
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