#present masculinely enough i might die. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rjalker · 1 year

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Edit: Can't believe the irony of me having to say this, but I do apparently have to say this: Not wanting boobs and not wanting to be seen as feminine does not mean you are, or want to be seen as masculine. I'm not transmasculine just because I don't want boobs and don't want to be seen as feminine.

You cannot read a post where the point is having boobs does not equal being feminine and go oh! right. Because not wanting boobs equals being masculine! No!! I'm not transmasculine! I'm not trying to look masculine! Kill the gender binary that has a stranglehold on your views of gender!

Stop shoving nonbinary people into a new set of binary boxes!

___

the idea that having boobs gets you automatically and inherently classified as being "female presenting" and "feminine presenting" in so-called progressive circles makes me want to maul people.

I've said this before and I'll just keep repeating it forever: I'm disabled. I can't wear a binder. If I tried I'd dislocate several ribs and that'd be the least of my worries. Like. you know why ribs not being where they're supposed to be is dangerous? Yeah. Yeah. Use your imagination. That's a real thing I have to worry about.

I can't even wear a sports bra that's several sizes """too large""" comfortably.

And yeah, I can use trans tape, but that takes concerted time and effort to put on and take off, and every time you put it on you get different results, and you might just mess it up entirely and waste it, and it can get itchy if you're sweating with it on (and it's 90 degrees almost all the time it's not actively winter here, so that's...literally unavoidable. Even sitting in the living room. Because the electric company charges an arm and a leg for AC during the summer AND won't even give you enough to actually cool your shitty tiny apartment even with all the doors shut and curtains drawn!!!!!), and it's expensive to buy more of.

And especially because this declaration of "feminine presenting" or "female presenting" that gets shoved onto you is not only misgendering you, but placing the blame on you for being misgendered for not looking not-female enough. It's no longer the speaker making incorrect assumptions, they're now literally declaring that this is a concious decision you make. You are choosing to "present" yourself this way...by having a body that you have no control over.

And even when it comes to clothes, the idea that the clothes you wear is another purposeful, conscious Presentation™ of your gender...

Even if we ignore for a moment the fact that being disabled and poor severely limits the clothes you can wear and even just have access to, what about people who literally don't get to choose what their clothes are? Kids whose parents buy their clothes for them, people whose carers choose their outfits for them?

My gender is not "sun-bleached tank top and shorts with a reflective sun hat". That's just what I wear so I don't die of heat stroke every time I set foot outside, and so that my joints are not being painfully constricted every time I move. I literally can't take my hat off outside during the day without developing a headache (or are they fucking migraines? fuck if I know!) within minutes from the sun trying to murder me from my light sensitivity. And it took me years to even realize that it was light sensitivity causing this. I remember in middle school the substitute gym teacher asked if I was a vampire because I moved to the closest shady spot every time we moved to a new area.

And like. Let's be honest. Even if I could safely wear a binder...They're fucking expensive.

It's just really fucking annoying that so many people equate binding with being trans and so many people who are supposed to be allies are just so comfortable labeling other people, who they haven't asked, as "feminine presenting" just because of the presence of boobs. Like we have any choice in the matter. Like having visible boobs just means you're asking to be misgendered.

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delulu-is-the-soluluh · 2 months

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Scars of Flames and Shadows | Chap 2

Chap 1 | Chap 3

A Dark!Rowaelin x afab!Reader

(Temporary) Summary: Aelin and Y/N shared a deep bond since childhood, growing up together in the royal courts of Terrasen as their innocent crushes hinted at a future romance. However, the invasion of Adarlan shattered their world. Aelin was forced to become Celaena, while Y/N stayed behind, joining the rebellion and becoming their most lethal spy, never ceasing to look for the princess. That is until she accidentally meets with a famous assassin who’s eyes she knows for so long.

Warnings: Lots of pining. Drama (I’m a drama queen); Set one month before the events of AB.

Chapter 2 | The Assassin and The Spy

Celaena pov:

I can’t believe Arobynn had the audacity to send me to this decrepit part of Rifthold. And yes, it was business and the client offered a decent sum, but I can’t ignore this scum of the place. It truly reflected just how much the client despised the target: an abusive father, slain at his daughter's request. He often came around here to buy drugs and alcohol before returning home to “demonstrate” his fragile masculinity to his family.

Typically, I would have a little bit of fun with this type of job: I get to have one less abuser in the world and explore new ‘methods’. I was inspired tonight. Had a plan and everything. But he had to die within thirty minutes. I had hoped to spend at least half the night relieving some tension. Instead, I was left fuming in a rat hole, my clothes way too fine for this, feeling grotesquely out of place, breathing a repugnant smell of air, and so frustrated.

That’s why I stood in the doorway of a filthy bar, scanning the dim interior, sulking about this crap of evening. I needed to find a way to blow off steam. A brawl in a dingy bar seemed like the perfect escape—losing myself in a little chaos might help to drown out the boredom gnawing at me.

Thankfully an opportunity soon presented itself. One of the drunken patrons made a lewd comment accusing me, rightfully so, of cheating in a card game. A few snarky remarks later, and they were on it. Fists flew, chairs splintered, and bodies collided in a whirlwind of aggression. For a moment, I was lost in the cathartic release. But it still wasn't enough. Their punches were too amateur and the chaos didn’t bring me any relief.

As the brawl raged on, I stumbled toward the door, the sense of agitation pressed more intensely against my ribs. I was about to slip out when I collided with someone. I was ready to throw them on the floor but they kept balance. So I looked up, ready to lash out again, only for shock hit me like a tidal wave.

It couldn’t be. She wasn’t supposed to be alive—Arobynn had said...

But there she was. Y/N was before me, alive and well, her eyes wide and surprised as I could hear my heart in my ears: She recognized me

Without a second thought, I turned and bolted. I couldn’t let her see me like this, couldn’t risk my identity or her safety. Despair clawed at my chest as I ran. Y/N was alive. She survived, she.. Why was she here? What was she doing in Adarlan?

The sound of footsteps behind me broke through my thoughts and I dared to look behind. Fuck she was fast, faster than I remembered. My breath quickened, and I pushed myself harder, darting through alleys and leaping over obstacles. I scaled walls with ease, my movements fluid and precise. But Y/N kept up, relentlessly stubborn still.

I darted across the rooftops hoping to lose Y/N in the maze of buildings, until the sound of her steps began to fade. “Finally,” I thought, dropping down into a secluded alley. I leaned against the wall, ripping off my mask to catch my breath. How did this happen? How had she found me, and if so where was Aedion?

It was just a glimpse. A breathtaking glimpse and I didn't even know I could still feel that, let alone be.. I need to put myself together. ‘I’m Celaena Sardothien, Adarlan’s best assassin, heir and prote-’

A soft thud echoed in front of me interrupting my thoughts and I looked up, alarmed. The moon casted a pale light over the narrow passage as Y/N stepped forward, her eyes widening in recognition and disbelief. A smile began to bloom on her lips as she parted them to speak. “My gods… It is you…”

Gods she was beautiful. Her voice, matured and raspy, struck me with a wave of conflicting emotions way too strong for my liking. My heart leapt, but I forced myself to stay as composed as I can be, my gaze cold and unyielding as Y/N walked toward me.

“Ael-” She didn’t get a chance to finish as I ran toward her, lunging to bring her down. I need to escape before any more questions or emotions could complicate matters.

I wasn't expecting when she fought back, quick on her reflexes and certain astonishment upon her face. She still ducked and twisted, blocking my initial strike with a defensive posture. “Please, stop,” Y/N gasped, her voice edged with desperation as she tried to fend off my assault.

I was fierce, aiming to bring her down rather than maim. I landed a few solid blows, but Y/N’s instincts kept her from falling.Pride started to bloom in my chest, to know she’s skilled and trained. It was thrilling and.. a bit exciting. Each time I tried to pin her down, She dodged or countered with quick, fluid movements.

As I moved in to grapple Y/N, I attempted to pin her against the wall. Y/N twisted free, striking back with a powerful kick to my midsection, forcing me to stagger back. Her eyes were full of anguish and determination as she panted, “Why are you doing this? Aelin...”

“Who the hell is Aelin?” I said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain control and balance of the fight.

Her face crumbled, eyes flooding with pain before anger quickly took its place. I could barely react before she came at me and pinned me down to the floor. Damn, she was strong. Finally, a worthy opponent. I grinned, ready to free myself when Y/N's eyes revealed nothing but anguish.“You don’t fool me... Please, all I ask for is one moment...” Her voice was low and filled with despair. “I can’t let you go again...”

Her plea struck me like a physical blow. The world around me seemed to blur as my resolve wavered under her gaze. She seemed to sense the shift in my demeanor. With a fluid motion, she released her hold and gently helped me to my feet. Despite the urgency of our confrontation, her touch was careful, almost tender—as if she were handling something precious, even in the midst of our struggle.

The walls I had built around myself slowly began to crumble, leaving me exposed to a torrent of memories and feelings I had long buried. The tension was replaced by a fragile silence that spoke volumes. I couldn't let this happen—I had to maintain my control.

“I’ve been looking for you... non-stop,” Y/N’s voice was breathy and raw. “I’ve been looking for clues, for leads, and—”

The sharp sound of my dagger being retrieved from my sheath cut through the air. “Stop deluding yourself. You’re not the hero here, you’re just a nuisance I’ve been trying to avoid. So save your tears and get out of my way.”

It was uncalled for. Hypocritical even, when the embellished hilt of my blade concealed our necklaces. So insincere when “Celaena” is named because of it. Rage flashed into her eyes and never left mine as she strode to me, grabbing my wrist, pulling me in and aiming my dagger at her fifth rib.

“Kill me then.” A heartbeat passed “ it only proves how deeply you're haunted by it”

my eyes astonished by her recklessness as a bitter smirk appeared on her face. “What part of ‘I can’t let you go’ don’t you understand?” Her voice filled with agony and determination. Her proximity allowed her gaze to drift to my lips. I couldn’t help but do the same to her. “Just one moment... I’m begging you.”

I sighed as I met Y/N’s determined gaze. “Alright,” I whispered. “One moment.”

The full moonlight was nothing compared to the smile she gave me.

I reached the small, rundown inn a couple of streets away from that alley for its privacy and minimal patronage, making it safer for our conversation. Entering the dimly lit room, I was greeted by the musty smell of old wood and worn fabric. I closed the door behind us and turned to face Y/N. Before I could say anything, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. “I knew it you were alive,” she murmured against my shoulder, her voice breaking with emotion.

I stood frozen for a moment, the warmth of her embrace seeping through the cold barriers I had built around my heart. Slowly, I raised my arms and returned the hug, my body trembling with the flood of suppressed emotions. “I missed you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

We pulled back slightly, Y/N’s hands resting gently on my shoulders. Our eyes locked in a tender gaze. “Can you tell me what happened then? What’s been going on?” she murmured softly, concern evident in her voice. I hesitated before shaking my head slightly, guiding her to sit on the worn bed. “I want to hear from you first,” I said quietly. “Tell me what’s been happening with you.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, her eyes searching mine for strength as she began to recount her story. She shared everything—from the night we survived to Aedion and the Rebellion, her training, and her arguments with Darrow, which made me laugh a little; some things never changed. I felt a deep sense of relief at hearing that Aedion was alive and well. It was a comfort to know that amidst all the chaos, someone I cared about was safe and thriving

I did the same right after. I recounted my story in detail—how I survived that night and became Celaena and everything that happened during these years. As I spoke, Y/N’s face clouded with sorrow and regret, her eyes reflecting the weight of my suffering. Her heartache was visible and deepened with each revelation about my life in the Guild and the isolation I endured. Her hand gripped mine tightly, as if trying to hold onto me amidst the flood of emotions. A vivid reminder of our shared past and the emotional cost of our separation.

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. “I can’t believe you’re Celaena Sardothien,” she breathed, a trembling laugh escaping her. “Earlier tonight, I joked about how someone must be incredibly lucky to find you. Turns out, I was right.”

I nodded, a bitter smile touching my lips as Y/N took in the gravity of my words. “All this time… you were right here, so close yet so distant.”

“I did what I had to do to survive, even if it meant hiding in plain sight.” I replied, my voice heavy with regret. Y/N reached out, her fingers brushing against mine. "We’ve both paid our prices. But we’re here now and we have a chance to fight back, to reclaim what was lost." I pulled my hand away, the flicker of hope dimming. "I can’t..." Y/N shook her head lightly, looking at me with confusion. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t go with you, Y/N. I’m stuck with the Guild. Arobynn keeps track of every ‘investment’ he makes in me,” I said softly, looking at my hands.

“I can pay. I’ll pay your debt and we’ll go—” Y/N said with determination, but I cut her off with a sigh. “It’s an insane amount of money...” I answered, a bitter taste in my mouth, realizing how much I had spent on whims and quirks.

Y/N went still for a moment, analyzing my features as she said quietly, "Have you ever thought of coming back? Of reclaiming your throne?" I was silent, my expression unreadable. Y/N’s frustration grew as her eyes turned cold. "You never even considered it, did you?"

"I thought no one survived," I tried to explain, my voice strained, still not looking at her. "That's what I was told. That everyone was dead." Y/N grabbed my hand, searching for my eyes, voice fierce.

"But now we know that’s not true. I’m here, Aedion is alive and so are Ren, Darrow - Hell even Maurtaugh is alive! And there’s the rebellion, an army that we’re building for you…” She shook her head, as if trying to understand a puzzle “Does that change anything?"

I looked away, the silence heavy between us. The weight of my choices and fears hung in the air, leaving me speechless. Y/N’s gaze softened but remained resolute “You’re scared that Arobynn will come and report us, right? It’s not because you’ve given up.. isn't it?”

I stood quiet and after what felt like hours, I looked at Y/N, guilt, sadness, and shame evident in my eyes. “Aelin Galathynius is dead.” I whispered. I almost could feel Y/N’s heart wrenched at my words, but she didn’t back down. Her grip tightened on my hand, a mixture of pain and determination in her eyes.

“If she is truly dead, then we'll let her go. But you and I... we’re still here. We can still fight, still reclaim what was lost. Crowned or not” Y/N’s voice wavered but held a steely resolve. “I can’t do this alone, we can’t do this alone. And if you won’t come back for yourself, then come back for the people who still believe in you, in her.”

My eyes flickered with conflicting emotions, my mind racing with the weight of my choices. I swallowed hard as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my ornate dagger. “There’s something I need to give you,” I said softly, handing it to Y/N. “Our necklaces... they’re inside the hilt. I kept them all these years.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she traced the intricate design of the dagger, her fingers trembling. When she carefully opened the hilt, revealing the hidden necklaces, tears welled up in her eyes. She looked back at me with a mix of relief and sorrow. “I thought I had lost mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

A bittersweet smile touched my lips. “It got stuck in my dress that night and fell onto the bed... I couldn’t let go of it. Not completely. Not of you.”

The weight of the moment hung heavily between us, the past and present colliding in a whirlwind of emotions. Y/N stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “If Aelin is gone, then let me say goodbye to her properly.”

The intensity of her gaze held me captive. I felt my heart race as she closed the distance between us. Our breaths mingled, charged with a longing that had been suppressed for far too long. I whispered Y/N’s name as her fingers brushed against my cheek, her touch gentle yet electrifying. “We’ve both been carrying this weight for too long,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Let's just be who we really are, even if just for tonight.” The room seemed to shrink around us, the air heavy with unspoken promises. As she leaned in, I felt the pull of her warmth and the magnetism of her presence.

Our lips met in a slow, tender kiss—my first ever. Why had I denied myself this connection for so long?—The softness of her lips against mine was both startling and comforting, as if all the years of hidden longing and unspoken passion had found their voice in this single, perfect moment. Her hands gently traveled through my hair, caressing the back of my neck and resting on my waist, as if trying to memorize this moment. I responded in kind, my fingers brushing her cheek, slipping into her hair, and exploring the contours of her back. The kiss deepened, a dance of passion and vulnerability, filled with the weight of what could have been and the hope of what might still be.

Our kiss lingered, a bittersweet testament to what we had lost and what might still be. When we finally parted, breathless and trembling, I looked into her eyes, seeing the raw emotion that mirrored my own. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with undeniable sincerity, her fingers caressing my cheeks. “I’ll be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes. So please... think about what I’ve offered.”

My resolve wavered for just a moment as I took a step back, the storm of emotions threatening to consume me. "I can't go with you," I said, my voice barely a whisper but cutting through the silence like a knife. "There's too much at stake. And If I stay any longer, the Guild will notice. They'll come after you and then after the rebellion.." Each word felt like a dagger to my heart, but I forced myself to continue as I shook my head. "I can’t."

The pain in her eyes was almost unbearable, and I felt my heart shatter in response. "So that's it, then?" Her voice cracked, filled with a bitterness that stung more than any blade. "You're staying here while I... I just leave?"

My eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry. This is the only way I can keep you safe." She nodded, her expression a mix of disbelief and sorrow. "Okay," she managed to say, though the word sounded hollow, devoid of hope. "I understand."

The finality of it hung between us, a suffocating weight. I watched her as she took a deep breath, looked at the dagger in her hands and stood up; Walking towards the door, each step she took felt like a piece of my soul was being torn away.

The silence behind her was deafening, and with each step, the distance between us grew wider. As the door closed, I fought the urge to call out to her, to change my mind, to run after her and leave everything behind. But I knew I couldn't. I sank onto the hollow bed, the ache of her absence a fierce, unrelenting force. Each breath felt like a struggle as I felt my eyes tear up. What a painful reminder of lost possibilities.

I took my time to build my walls again, to put on the mask of savagery and cruelty that for so long has been mine. When I finally stood up, the numbness that enveloped me was profound, my steps heavy as I left the inn behind, stepping into a world that felt colder than ever.

Author’s note: I tried to keep close to the character but I think I’ve failed :/

It was tricky, since Celaena has a push and pull behavior with “new” people and only opens up after a 'life or death' situation (as we see with Sam and some scenes with Ansel in AB) while Aelin it is in fact more in touch with her feelings (but still a keeper of them) and tends to show her vulnerable side at first to her family (like after rescuing Aedion in QoS and her first encounter with Elide in EoS). My idea was to demonstrate the Celaena/Aelin egos clashing but I think it didn't work.

But please have faith in me and I promise you that the good stuff is about to come. Just give me like two more chapters (maybe one) and you’ll hear a jealous hawk screeching and too many people living under the same roof :D

Thank you for all the reblogs and likes, it means the world to me <3

Tag List (omg my first taglist aknsjd)

@acourtofbatboydreams @throneofsapphics

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super-hero-confessions · 3 months

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The fact that there are people not willing to understand the political commentary being made with The Boys is not only mind boggling, it irks and disturbs me. I am begging people to please try to understand and stop being so childish about what they don't or maybe even look at the world around them to see why what's being presented might be more relevant than they realize.

1. The show and comic are satire. They make political commentary in often the most crude way it can be presented whether you like it not. It's fine if you don't like satire or political commentary but don't sit there and complain about it when you knew what you were getting into before it got this far. Nothing about that has changed. If you are someone who unironically takes satire seriously at face value rather than trying to listen to the message? I can't help you, sorry.

2. If I see one more complaint about Homelander not being killed in Season 3, I'm going to lose my mind. There were thousands of people in Vought tower. Thousands. Including Ryan, Becca's son. If you're someone who thinks all of those people should be sacrificed so the "goal" of killing Homelander can be accomplished? Congratulations, you think exactly like a war criminal. Fuck the "fuck Ryan" crowd.

3. Homelander's not just played by the best actor or is the biggest draw of the show, killing him off is so shortsighted. Not just because losing him would ruin the show. There will always be more "Homelander"s as long as the root causes creating them are allowed to fester and continue to exist. If you think killing Homelander will solve all of their problems and everything will be 🌈✨🌅☀️🦄🦋🌈💖🧈🪰🌈 if or when they do this, you are missing the point of this entire series. They are literally using Ryan to exemplify this.

4. The fandom misogyny against Starlight is so transparent. She's not without faults, but she is the least "traditionally masculine" woman on this show and I think that says enough. Her goal is to neutralize and damage the credibility of Homelander without pushing him directly over the edge because she doesn't want millions of people to die at the expense of "scorched earf" like William Butcher. She's quick thinking and does what she needs to in order to survive in a moment and try to protect people, but in case people forgot? She's following Hughie. Hughie is the one who gave that speech about saving everyone, even if they don't deserve it, especially if they don't deserve it. He is the guy asking why violence is their solution for everything and he has always been that guy. Why are people blaming Annie for Hughie doing what he does best and being an actual good guy that promotes goodness in the people around him? If you're going to be mad, at least be consistent. If you don't like moral lessons or questions being presented to you through media, I don't think the superhero genre is for you.

5. William Butcher is not the hero of this story. He never was and never will be. He does not have good intentions, and he never has had them. This isn't even a case of "the road to hell" or misguided pursuit. He knows what he does is wrong and does it anyway and makes this very clear on multiple occasions. This has always been the case. The guy literally "fridges" his own wife and people are actually surprised he would cheat on her? He is on an adjacent boat to Homelander as far as severely mentally ill men in dire need of help go, the main difference being that Homelander has little to no understanding of how his actions are "wrong". Butcher may actually be worse off than Homelander as when you look at their issues, at least in some ways, he's more like an evolved state of Homelander or the "next stage" of depravity. That is why he's been building Homelander up to his level so they can fight. To say either of these men are beyond saving is deeply hypocritical and commits the exact same moral failing that William Butcher is practicing. Hughie is the real hero, die mad about it.

6. This show is reflecting the current political climate and pointing out the faults of both "sides". You can't dehumanize another without first dehumanizing yourself. If you know anything about America or even the world, you'd know that some people are being forced to live in these sorts of environments. We literally have a real threat looming over us. White nationalists want to take over the country and implement a conservative hellhole dictatorship. They have a whole balls to the wall plan for this! I want to throttle half of this fandom for being so stuck in their own privilege that they won't take a second or two to think about the people who can't afford to not live through this.

I live in constant fear of what could happen to me and my family. I don't get the option to tune it out or pretend it doesn't exist. I live in a red state. I don't have the money to move. I'm pretty much everything the modern Nazi despises.

And yet, there are people in this fandom complaining about political commentary that is directly reflecting our current society, parodying and satirizing it to try and put forth an extremely important message before it's too late.?

I need people to understand this. Not want, need. My life is literally dependent on whether or not people will understand these things before it's too late because of where this country is headed. I wish I could say it wasn't that big of a deal but I can't. I can't because I don't get the privilege of living in the part of the world where it wouldn't be. Please, I am begging, begging people to take a moment to please look in a mirror, self reflect, and consider "why". Consider whether or not you might be part of the problem because we all have our bad takes, bad days, lapses in judgement. No one is perfect and that's okay. We live and we learn. Lighten up on the faults of others, lighten up on your own faults.

I really like learning so I really would love the opportunity to keep living so I can do that, but I'm scared out of my mind. I'm terrified and it's not just for me. Please, please, I need people to understand.

7. The Trump stuff is funny. It is! Donald Trump is funny if you don't think about the inherent dread of him having political power. I would love to be able to laugh and cringe at him flailing and failing and being ridiculous without that looming threat of the damage he could do on the world. I would love more specials from John Oliver with the breath of relief that Trump won't ever be given political power again. That's where the Homelander Trump metaphor comes in. That's what Homelander is supposed to give us, a way to rehumanize Trump but also reiterate why he should not be given political power. If you're bothered by it then again, this is satire. Satire is not made to be taken so seriously in that way and you will be much happier when you stop doing that.

Please. Please. Please, please, please, please, please. Please vote. If Trump gets elected again, I may actually die and it may not even be from conservative witch hunting.

I fell severely ill back in 2016 when Trump was elected. I broke out in hives the day he was inaugurated. The entire time he was elected, my health continued on a steady decline and I am still trying to recover. I'm not joking. I know how it sounds but I am not kidding at all. I don't know if it was an allergy or what but I have no idea how my body will react if he is elected again but whatever it is, I don't want it to happen.

I just want to be able to enjoy my favorite shows and or comics and live my life. I want other people to be able to do this too, but that can't happen if we keep rejecting every prompt we're given to self reflect.

You're human. So is everyone else around you. Please don't ever forget that.

#confession #rant #the boys

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peggingeddiediaz · 3 months

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I had to step back for a bit but now I’m back and pettier than ever.

How can you call yourself a Buck fan and be happy with his bi storyline getting reduced to him jumping into another relationship, immediately after coming out and think that’s good for his character.

“Buck seems happy and that’s enough” Yeah, the disingenuous defense to keep from looking deeper into the BT relationship. I know the majority of Tommy fans started watching during 7x04 but Buck was also happy while dating Abby, Ali, Taylor and Natalia, but let’s ignore that because now you get to see two men kissing and that’s hot, no need to analyze any further.

“I love their development throughout the season” What development? They’ve kissed twice and had 2 and a half dates. Tommy showed more excitement while hanging out with Eddie in 1 episode than he ever has with Buck. Yall love to act like seeing two white men kissing on tv is this insane form of representation.

A lot of my issues with fanon buddie also got even worse with fanon BT. The infantilization/uwufication of Buck is worse than ever, for fans who love how BT are two “masculine gay men” you lot love to write Buck so female coded you might as well be writing a Het relationship (buck is never beating the "self insert character" allegations), and now, the racism towards Eddie is not as subtle as it was before, now you have BT stans writing Eddie as a violent person towards Buck and have white savior Tommy save the day, or have Eddie die so Chris can go and live with Buck and Tommy. Insane stanning for a bland character who is a bad copy of Eddie and with more screentime on cameo that in the actual show.

The hamster wheel is as present as ever, and worse than that, it has fans now.

#maria rants #911 abc #evan buckley #im a buck stan now #fandom problems #fandom racism #fanon buck you will always be hated #gatekeeping buck and eddie is not enough

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slytherinboysappreciation · 8 months

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Moonlight - T. R. x werewolf fem!Reader

A/N: this is the third part of a Tom Riddle x Werewolf!Reader story I’m writing. No use of Y/N. Mostly unedited so please let me know if I missed any warnings!

Series Masterlist

CW: nausea and mentions of throwing up, mentions of dying, descriptions of period cramps, general period issues, miscommunication, Tom being a worrier, use of pet names

1.2k word count

The next friend of Tom’s you meet is Pansy Parkinson.

You were hiding in the third floor girls’ bathroom. No one ever really came in here, and Moaning Myrtle felt like the perfect company right now.

Tonight was the full moon, and you were stuck having the worst cramps of your life. The nauseating, stomach-wrenching mind of bad cramps. You’d barely made it out of class, and now you were stuck here.

You’d tried to leave twice already, but you’d almost fainted the first time and had thrown up the second time. There was no way you were getting to the Hospital Wing on your own.

You’re curled up on the bathroom floor, hidden in one of the stalls. Tears are pricking at your eyes as you try your hardest to not cry from the pain in your abdomen. Just as you’re giving up hope of help, the door to the bathroom swings open.

You try to breathe through the pain, focusing all your might on listening to the footsteps. But Moaning Myrtle giggles next to you, distracting you.

“This is fun,” she giggles. “Maybe you’ll die how I did, and we’ll be ghost girls together.”

You say nothing about that idea, teeth gritted together. You don’t mind Myrtle and her occasional flirting, but an eternity with her sounds far too long to bear. Even one more minute here seems far too long.

Still, a tiny prickle of fear enters your heart. Myrtle did die here mysteriously. Who else would be coming into the third floor girls’ bathroom at this time? Most of the girls usually avoid this place. You hope to the four founders it isn’t a guy.

Your current round of cramps lets up a bit, allowing you to sniff the air. There’s the ever-present rancid bathroom smell that makes you gag, the smell of stale water, and a whiff of rich perfume. You close your eyes and focus really hard on the perfume.

Rich perfume… Warm fruit scents… And a full air of confidence. Not a masculine scent.

Your cramps knot in your stomach again, pulling your focus from you. You open your eyes right before your bathroom stall door swings open. Pansy Parkinson stands in the doorway, staring down at you.

“There you are,” She says, sounding mildly worried. “Tom’s been looking for you everywhere. You missed your study date with him.”

You’d feel touched that Tom was looking for you if you weren’t currently curled up in pain.

Thankfully, Pansy seems to realize what’s going on before you have to say anything. She crouches next to you, quickly whispering a spell. You don’t know which spell it is but it eases your cramps a bit. Enough for you to sit up and lean against the stall wall instead of staying down on the floor.

“Can you walk now?” Pansy asks. You shake your head, weakly wiping the damp sweat from your forehead. The cramps are gone but nausea still churns in your stomach.

“Okay.” She nods. “Will you be alright if I go grab Madame Pomfrey?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, tilting your head back against the wall behind you. You feel exhausted, drained.

Pansy stands up. “I’ll be quick.” She hurries away. The bathroom door opens and closes, leaving you alone again. You close your eyes and try to swallow down your nausea.

After a few minutes and several eternities, the bathroom door opens again. You open your eyes, surprised at how fast Pansy was.

But the footsteps that stride into the bathroom aren’t Pansy’s light footsteps, nor Madame Pomfrey’s steady ones. You start to sniff the air, but the smell of the bathroom almost makes you vomit.

“Love? Are you in here?” It’s Tom’s voice. He sounds worried, panicked. Why is he here?

“Yeah,” you reply quietly. “Third stall on the right.”

The door to your stall is practically thrown open. Tom kneels down next to you. “Salazar, love, please tell me you’re okay!”

He looks pale. His uniform is a bit rumpled and his tie is missing. He really was worried.

“I’m fine, Riddle,” You say. He ignores this and cups your face, checking to make sure you’re uninjured. You fall silent, your cheeks heating up immediately. Your skin tingles where he’s touching it.

“Pansy said you were bleeding,” he says, lifting your arms to check the rest of you for injury. “Where?! Who hurt you?!”

Your face flushes hot. “Not- Not hurt bleeding, Riddle. Monthly bleeding.”

It takes him a few moments. Then his eyes widen.

“You should’ve let someone know!” He says, sounding both relieved and worried. “We were looking for hours before Pansy thought to check in here!”

You blink up at him, touched and confused. “You… were…?”

This seems to snap him out of his worry. He sits back, gazing down at you in concerned surprise. “Of course we were, love. It’s a full moon tonight. I thought you’d gotten hurt or turned early or something. We were worried out of our minds!”

Your stomach drops. The frail fluttering hope in your chest is crushed to dust. Of course they were worried. You’re a werewolf. Turning early would mean you’re endangering the students, which is what Tom’s agreed to keep from happening.

It still makes you want to cry.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

Tom reaches out but you avoid his touch. He pulls his hand back quickly. “Love… we’re not-- I’m not mad at you…”

He’s trying to patch up the situation. You just wanna forget about it.

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumble. “Pansy should be back any minute.”

There’s an odd expression on his face. You refuse to decipher it, or the way it makes your chest ache. He sighs and nods. “Okay.”

He sits back against the bathroom stall wall and gazes at you. “Salazar, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You only manage a weak smile.

Tom sits across from you in the bathroom stall until Pansy and Madame Pomfrey arrive. After taking a potion to help your cramps, and another one for nausea, you’re well enough to stand and walk on your own.

You’re barely able to, though, with the way Tom tries to help at every turn. He won’t stop touching your arm, making sure you won’t fall. He frets over every step, acting as if you’re about to run a marathon instead of taking a simple step.

Pansy eventually pulls him back to let you try and walk on your own.

Given how late in the day it is now, Madame Pomfrey requests you join her in the Hospital Wing now, instead of in a few hours. Tom immediately tries to protest, but she silences him by sending him off to fetch you a plate of food.

Pansy stays with you till you get to the Hospital Wing, where you stay until night falls. It’s a worse full moon than usual, and it leaves you utterly drained.

In the morning, Madame Pomfrey sends for a basket of food for you and orders you to rest. You have her inform Tom first so he stops trying to argue his way in to see you.

It’d be sweet if you weren’t sure it was because he wanted to make sure you weren’t a danger.

You roll over in your bed and push the thought from your mind.

#tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #reader is from an unspecified hogwarts house #divider by cafekitsune

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rachelillustrates · 10 months

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Need to have a bit of a moment about feminine-presenting fantasy Dwarf representation....

So I've been in "The Hobbit" fandom in full enthusiasm ✨hyperfixaaaaaaation✨ for about a year and a half now, and one thing that is EXTREMELY important to me is that fantasy Dwarves, in any Universe, are a) short, though not as short as my beloved Gnomes, and b) THICK. WIDE. EARTHY. And I know that working with taller human actors in the Hobbit films didn't portray that perfectly, but in general, it seems like that perception holds true enough and, again, has carried over into other media (and was there BEFORE the Hobbit movies in the first place).

They should ALSO be hairy, in the best of circumstances, though I understand we don't always get that regardless of what gender presentation is involved. Ahem.

In most cases - including those films AND the book they spring from - the focus is on masculine-presenting Dwarves.

BUT.

Those proportions usually hold true for feminine-presenting characters as well.

Some examples:

(From "The Hobbit" films specifically.)

(From "Rings of Power." HAIL Princess Disa. Though she needs a fuller beard, too - smoochy picture included to highlight what fuzz she does have. And because she and Durin are adorable.)

(From World of Warcraft - with feminine-presenting Night Elf for reference since that still b a r e l y counts as stocky, but their "average woman shape" is even more on the thin side, so I still think the intention was for us to view the Dwarves as thicker with that comparison.)

Those being my biggest two points of personal reference, I'm gonna stop there - but the POINT of all of this is that I recently read "A Fellowship of Bakers & Magic" by J. Penner.

Which IS delicious.

And includes a feminine-presenting Dwarf named Dolgrila "Doli" Butterbuckle. Who I would already freaking DIE for istg.

Her introduction, from the text:

(Transcription of the highlighted bits:

"The dwarf was a vision in a corseted, buttery yellow dress. The bright, warm hue complemented her rich complexion and lush head of sable curls. Each hair coil seemed to dance with the same radiant joy shown by her twinkling brown eyes and pearly smile. Holstered on her ample hip, where one might expect a weapon, was instead a teacup and saucer, held together by leather straps. ..... "I'm Dolgrila Butterbuckle," she said while reading. "But everyone calls me Doli." ")

AND the next book in the series ("A Fellowship of Librarians & Dragons," out Nov. 2024) IS ABOUT HER!!!!! ✨🎉✨

BUT. This is the cover:

And I zero percent mean any of the following as a complaint against the artist. I am sure they were just following the publisher's order. And BIG YAY for the publisher actually hiring a HUMAN!! Good choices are being made, there.

BUT.

If I didn't know already that Doli is a Dwarf, I WOULD NOT KNOW THAT FROM THIS IMAGE.

She looks, basically, human. She is almost just as skinny as the human woman (Arleta Starstone, also a badass character) on the cover of the first book.

Referring again to the images of the World of Warcraft Dwarves above, though, she DOES look a lot like them, proportionally. So I'm wondering, now that I've done that research/refresher, if that is the Dwarven standard that the Powers that Be were going off of, in this case. Especially since she is clean-shaven. And especially since in one scene, she alters one of her own dresses to fit the aforementioned human - though in my reading of it, I just assumed that she took in the waist of the dress, too, as well as adding onto the length.

But to my eye, with my Hobbit-fandom/folklore heavy standards - at best, she looks like a half-human, half-Gnome, to me, especially with her nearly reaching the shoulder of a being that should be MUCH taller than her, as far as I can tell.

(I will admit I adore her outfit and want one, please.)

(And I will also admit that I MIGHT be assuming that person behind her is taller than they actually are, and I DO hope I am proven wrong. If she is like 4 feet tall, maybe they are only like 5 1/2 feet tall or so. I guess we'll find out in 11 months.)

So. That said.

Part of what attracts me to fantasy Dwarves in the first place is that they ARE plus-size. Unforgivingly so, most of the time. As a short, plus-size person myself, they are a haven in a swath of feminine-presenting representations across lots, and lots, of media that treats the feminine-presenting form as "average" height or taller, AND much thinner than most non-Hollywood women actually are, these days.

So to have seen this, when I realized the next book was about Doli and rushed (in my elation) to read the synopsis, was a notable disappointment.

ANYWAY, I will be drawing Doli myself, as I saw her, for self-care purposes. And here's the bare bones so far:

And all of that said, I will leave you with one of my favorite moments with her in the story:

(Transcription of the highlighted bits:

" “He was very generous on our trip here,” Arleta whispered as her cheeks heated slightly. “And a perfect gentleman, but we’re only friends.” She stopped and worked out the timing in her mind for a moment. “We’ve only known each other for less than two days, really.”

Doli let out a giggle, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Well, look at us. We’ve only known each other for a few hours and we’re already best friends. Did you know that some elves are fated?”

“What does that mean? Arleta asked, intrigued by Doli’s quick change of subject.

Doli’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I visited the library here – it’s massive by the way – and read through a few books on elven culture. You know, to figure things out. I love libraries and books.” She leaned in closer. “Some of them – not all – get night visions of their soul partner. They can experience these for years, starting when they are very young.”

Arleta tipped her head in great interest. “Do they always find these soul partners?”

“No,” Doli said with a hint of wistfulness. “If they don’t, they will never settle for anyone else. They could never fully commit to another.”

“That’s sad.” Arleta winced as the large ogre she’d seen before took his seat directly in front of her, completely blocking the stage.

“Or romantic,” Doli sighed.")

And all of all of THAT said, I do highly recommend the book!! Illustration issues aside - and I'm looking at you too, World of Warcraft - the more Dwarven romances we support, and more feminine-presenting Dwarven representation we support, the more (and better) we'll get!!

So, check it out here on Goodreads and please pick it up at your local bookstore or library, if you can!!

#doli butterbuckle #a fellowship of bakers & magic #inspiration #dwarves #fantasy dwarf #dwarf women #lotr meta #size positive #size representation #personal

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tigergirltail · 6 months

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I've been thinking lately about identity and sense of self as it relates to being transgender. In particular, when is it that trans people become our true selves? Is it when we admit to ourselves that we are trans? Is it when we come out as trans, socially transition, change our names? For those who undergo medical or surgical transition, is it when the hormones kick in, or when we get surgery done?

When I refer to my past self, I typically refer to that part of my life as "the boy I pretended to be", or think of it as the mask I was forced to wear. A fake, a husk, something not real. As I distance myself more and more from him, it feels more like he was an entirely separate person, in as much as he even was a person at all, rather than just an arbitrary set of rules to follow, like programming code. The 'egg' terminology feels really appropriate here. An eggshell isn't a life, it's just a container. The life within is real, but it's not yet conscious. The boy I pretended to be and the name he was given were just a container, but the girl inside wasn't ready to be alive yet.

One day in my mid twenties, I was visiting the friend who was my partner at the time, and we had a conversation about genderqueerness. The idea came up that I might be nonbinary, and I figured I hadn't ever really had a sense of masculinity, so maybe that was it. Problem solved I guess, but identifying as enby didn't really do anything for me, and it always felt like I wasn't trans enough to call myself trans. I didn't want to culturally appropriate, for lack of a better term, from people who seemed to be having a much more intense experience.

Later this month, it will be two years since I had my awakening. It's a moment that will be burned into my psyche until the day I die, the moment I finally understood what had been wrong for my entire life. Even at the time though, I was still hesitant. I remember telling my queer friend group that I wanted to try HRT, just to see what would happen, just to lean into a more fem presentation of being enby. I had awakened, but I was still in denial, still not my true self. For some reason, even though I had finally admitted internally how badly, how painfully I wanted to be a girl, I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.

I remember going to a local trans support group, and introducing myself by my true name to a room full of people who had never known the false me. I remember googling local therapists, and finding a nonbinary social worker who specialized in transgender clientele. I remember going out to a trans-friendly clothing store and getting an incredible rush of euphoria from a very nice blue dress (which, sadly, was too small for me). None of this felt like it made it real, though.

Ultimately, the thing that made it feel real, that made it feel final and true, was when I told my friends that while they/them pronouns were helpful while I was figuring things out, they weren't meant for me, and I was going to use she/her pronouns exclusively from that moment forward.

I am Alexis, I am a woman, I am she/her, and that was always meant to be my true self.

(nuance disclaimer: This is merely a chronicle of my own personal journey, and is not meant to be a statement of fact regarding any trans people other than myself. There are as many ways to be trans as there are trans people.)

#transgender #trans #transition #trans joy #trans thoughts

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loveerran · 7 months

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Recent Events and Reactions

CW suicide mention, transphobia and hate: I am a trans woman who has been out and about for about 20 years presenting as myself in public. Things are so much better now in so many ways, though I do worry about the anti-trans laws being passed. Recently, the CEO of my beloved platform Tumblr melted down over a trans woman named Predstrogen. Predstrogen was perma-banned from Tumblr, and the CEO quite possibly misgendered her very nastily (I hope not) while failing to communicate well at the very least. But, far worse, he then stalked her to X/Twitter and harassed her there – apparently using his CEO power and privileged access to out certain sexually-themed handle names she used. Regardless of what she did to get the initial ban, that would be traumatizing, having a rich, powerful man follow you around on the Internet, using his power to harass and rail on you like that. I imagine she is wondering what else he might do to her now or someday when no one is watching, because I would be. I really feel that. It brings back my trans feminine fear of men who hate us. We get under their skin in some way and they have something to prove on us. That fear they will be angry enough to do something obviously not in their own long term best interest even if it becomes publicly known. The trans panic defense is still used to justify and mitigate these responses in legal settings. And that fear of a man, in a position of power, acting violently (physically or otherwise because of who we are), is real and it happens. I was a bit triggered. There have been a lot of trans woman beaten after being with a guy and he felt guilty or like he needed to assert his masculinity, let alone someone who is just angry at you for existing. There's been a lot of trans hate and also CEO hate going around on Tumblr, including people implying or actually wishing said CEO would commit suicide or 'lowtax' himself (which means die by suicide in this context).

But Matt is also a person, with a smart, inquisitive nature and a strong work ethic that has led him to do incredible things, like founding WordPress. Those accomplishments, and the many other social justice accomplishments he might cite, excuse nothing. Doing a certain amount of good doesn’t entitle us to doing a certain amount of bad. But our Heavenly Parents love him. He is a different person now than he was 20 years ago, and he will be a different person 20 years from now. I do not think it makes us better to wish death on someone, even when they have hurt us. And I do not blame Predstrogen for anything she may be feeling at this point, and I'm not saying she or anyone else owes forgiveness. I am saying that to turn the other cheek, to love and pray for those who despitefully use and persecute us, is hard doctrine and not easy to understand. But I also believe the world needs more of it. From all of us. Right now.

#this really hurt #i appreciate the recent tumblr staff post on the subject #but if Matt used privileged access to harm someone #that is pretty serious #and my question for him would be this #would you have done the same if Predstrogen was a cis woman?#and if the answer is anything other than “yes”#you may want to re-examine your bias #and actions #transgender #love #forgiveness #doing better #changing #predstrogen

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heres-to-all-that-is-mine · 11 months

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Unfinished stuff part two! Written Before The Third Game Came Out And Abandoned By Now Edition. This one’s called “Work benefits”. I believe it was about Zor offering Phoenix a job, citing the terrible Agency work conditions and the benefits of a job with Zoraxis, and Phoenix actually considering it but ultimately deciding against it?

They skid around the corner in a panic, bullets whizzing past and pinging against the floor, but they don't falter for a moment. If they did, they'd be dead.

Their Handler's voice, usually ever present, ever droning, has been reduced to a staticky crackling in their ear through the work of some kind of jammer, maybe, they're not entirely sure, but it means they're on their own and that's... not new, not foreign, but disconcerting. They'd gotten used to having him there, talking, though they didn't always listen.

It leaves them feeling more jittery than usual, though adrenaline has drowned out most of their worries.

The situation- they're running through an unfamiliar building, pursued by Zoraxis agents who would like nothing more than to put them six feet under (or quite possibly more, if they can get away with it) after stealing some very valuable files. Blueprints, maybe, the details escape them but they're important, and they have them- …the situation is not ideal. What's also not ideal is the stinging, burning sensation building in their shoulder where a bullet must have grazed them. They shift the files to the other arm, hoping they didn't manage to get blood on it, and glance around quickly.

The goons are only seconds away, and they can't keep running for much longer, so they need- aha! A door, left slightly ajar, the room behind it pitch black. They really hope it's empty because the agents are catching up and they've just lost whatever advantage they had by hesitating- and what the hell, they might die either way, so they throw themself into the darkened room and close the door carefully in one jerky movement, hearing the footsteps race past.

For what seems like an eternity, they sit hunched against the door, holding their breath and hearing their blood rushing in their ears.

...Nothing. They're safe- for now.

Slowly they begin to take stock of their surroundings, eyes adjusting to the dark. They quickly locate a string connected to a light, and give it a tug with their telekinesis, unwilling to stand up just yet.

It's a small room, the walls lined with shelves of old equipment and a couple of cleaning supplies here and there- most things are covered in a fine coat of dust. Ironic, perhaps, for a broom closet to be so dusty. It looks like some strange hybrid of an equipment storage room and a broom closet.

It doesn't look to be regularly used. Good.

Having given everything a quick once over, they turn their attention back to themself, checking on the wound that had begun to ache properly by now. It doesn't look too deep, but it's still sluggishly bleeding and patches of black are spreading through the dark fabric of the uniform they'd snagged, rendering the disguise mostly useless. With a strained grimace they look around the room again, and find a spare uniform hung on a hook at the far end of the room, setting about tearing strips of fabric from their current uniform to use as impromptu bandages.

Focused on the task as they were, they didn't notice one of the dusty monitors star flickering with static until a strange, warbling voice crackled to life.

"Hello, Agent," the voice says conversationally, and they jerk back in surprise, the back of their head hitting the door hard enough for them to wince in pain.

This... is not their Handler, nor is it anybody who's voice they recognise- it sounds distorted, masculine and feminine voices seeming to overlap, shifting from a low to a high pitch rapidly, and yet it has a tone reminiscent of someone calm and collected, someone in control.

...They have a sinking feeling that they do, in fact, know who this is.

"I've been watching you for some time," the voice continues, and they wonder why this person would possibly do such a thing if they are indeed who the agent thinks they are. "Your track record is most intriguing. I understand you're the agent behind foiling a number of our "schemes"."

To sum their current situation up in one word, it was 'bad'.

[Yes, well...]

They sign, grimacing at the ache in their shoulder.

"It's your job, yes," the voice finishes their sentence for them, tone something reminiscent of friendly, with none of the warmth associated with such a tone. "I know. I know quite a lot about you, Agent."

The room suddenly seems more claustrophobic than before, they think, as they finish tying the makeshift bandage.

"...and I expect you know some about me, as well."

[You're not just a Z agent.]

A burst of static- laughter, maybe, or a scoff- makes them twitch, increasingly unnerved. This conversation is telling them nothing, not why they're having a conversation like this, nor how this person knew they'd be here.

"I am not, no. You may know me as Dr. Zor."

Shit.

Well, they're officially screwed! Or, well, they're not really sure. Why on Earth would the head of the Zoraxis organisation want to speak with them- or, more pressingly, why are they still alive and unrestrained for this conversation?

#purples art!#mine!#fanfic!#ieytd #agent phoenix #dr Zor

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

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i'm wrapping my brain around some thoughts i have been having about what the corinthian vs. hob gadling represent and i'm not sure i've had enough coffee to articulate these thoughts properly, but, like...

others have definitely talked much more eloquently and elaborately about the corinthian as the nightmare of the lethality of being gay / gay as a death sentence / the HIV/AIDS crisis / the inherent danger to men in being Known as gay by other men / if you admire a man too much he might kill you, etc., so i won't delve into that here, i'll just link to this TOTALLY WONDERFUL post by @roach-works

(on that note i was researching regency slang for Reasons recently and found the following: Corinthian: athletes, sportsmen who excelled in most sporting activities of the day including fencing, boxing, hunting, shooting, driving and riding in addition to be always well dressed and mannered gentlemen

and i'll just leave that there, because i think there's a lot to be said about the corinthian + stereotypical masculine virility + boyd holbrook's take on the character... the fear of queerness in those sorts of places & spaces where masculinity also by assumption = heterosexuality / overcompensation for repressed queerness by participating in these types of masculine activities for safety, and also sublimation of queerness into pursuits that would bring men into contact with other men...)

BUT ANYWAY, what i am wrestling with right now is how hob gadling juxtaposes against this. hob gadling who cannot die, and in "men of good fortune," is sitting there in the late 80s while people around him talk about the AIDS crisis... something something hob gadling as a queer-coded character whose expression of queerness explicitly WOULD NOT and COULD NOT kill him in any way, the way that it would others. hob as a portrayal of the dream of safety in queerness and safety in masculine expression of emotion, safety in the desire of male* friendship and constancy

the corinthian, the nightmare, vs. hob, the dream

OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

etc, etc, etc

(*male friendship to the extent dream is "masculine" in his presentation, which is only to a point, because he's a representation of a concept and at any time could look however he liked and use whichever pronouns he liked, but at the end of the day i'm referring to the dream of the endless we know and love... but either way, being friends with dream is queer as fuck, at the very least QPR as fuck)

#the sandman #the corinthian #hob gadling #meta

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calamitys-child · 2 years

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Put your money where your mouth is Aidan I want a thematic analysis of the sex scene in Jason X (I have never seen Jason X)

Oh MAN okay so Jason X is, possibly hands down, my favourite bad movie. Its the funniest bad horror sequel I've ever seen. It's got space stations. It's got cryogenics. It's got INCREDIBLY 00s fashion. David Cronenberg, yes, The Cronenberg, specifically asked to be in it only so he could be killed in a very stupid way after 2 minutes of screen time. At one point a guy gets killed by being knocked off a platform onto a big spiral aerial type thing and you watch his corpse corkscrew the whole way down and I laughed so hard i had to pause the movie because I thought I might either choke or piss myself. It's Bad. I love it unreservedly.

That said, it has been a while since I watched it so I am a little vague on the details and have refreshed myself by skimming the Wikipedia page. Tried to rewatch the scene but I am on a bus so my signal is not quite good enough. I will do my best from memory.

The Friday the 13th movies have always had a theme of responsibility of adults and older teens for the kids and teenagers in their care and, by extension, are often thematically full of Having Sex (Ir)Responsibly. The plot twist in the first one is actually really good - Jason is not the killer! Jason is a child who dies in an accident at his summer camp because the counsellors supposed to be keeping watch on him snuck off to shag in the storage room instead. The killer is his mother, seeking to avenge him by murdering the camp counsellors who she catches having sex. It's a core founder of the "if you fuck you die" trope in horror.

How does Jason get so hugelarge and get a machete? No idea. How does he get to space? Doesn't matter. Have I seen any of the other sequels between the original and Jason X? Not clear-headed, though I do vaguely I think remember watching one when I had the flu real bad and fell asleep a bunch of times.

Basic plot, for context: a professor leads a bunch of students to excavate the cryogenically frozen body of Jason and realises that, because he's so big and unkillable, he could definitely sell Jason's body for lots of money and fame to people looking to profit off of eternal youth. Jason awakens, mayhem ensues.

As I remember it, the first sex scene that immediately comes to mind involves a sadomasochistic encounter between a student and a supervisor, heavy overtones of "fuck me for good grades and fame and success". The wiki page doesnt specify this so i MIGHT be getting it confused with another film but it is definitely something I remember noting about it so for the sake of this discussion I'm going to assume I've got that right. Obviously, then, this links to the core theme of "Having sex with people as a distraction from the duty of care you have over people". While these characters are fucking, Jason is waking up, only attended by the students, and beginning his murder day out in space. Again, these deaths could have been prevented if there was a separation kept between Doing Your Job and Getting Some Pussy, and the dynamics of the scene lean into ideas of sex as power and of appropriate vs inappropriate sexual acts. I also seem to remember the younger girl being the dominant participant in the scene which again comes down to some kind of "horror movie punishing Deviant tm sex Specifically" trope, horror as a genre is really preoccupied with presentations and performances of masculine and feminine, male and female, active and passive, and things which blur these distinctions or confuse these binaries are a major focus and source of fascination but are also almost always resolved by either "Correcting" the gender (girl stops being an adolescent tomboy and gets a boyfriend) or destroying it (if you do things "wrong" you die). This is very much a basic summary I recommend Clover's "Her body, himself" for it explained better than I can on a bus with no coffee.

Another heavily sexual scene in the movie is when they try to capture/subdue Jason by putting him in the holodeck and playing a simulation of two hot half-naked young women at summer camp, which distracts him in a paralysis between violence and desire. This echoes the themes of the first film; first, that sexuality is very often a dominant preoccupation for adolescents and young adults and the question of whether it is appropriate to condemn them for having or desiring sex; secondly, that the tension between condemnation and desire can cause impulses to violence, like the far-right leanings in incel groups; thirdly, the cycles of repeating trauma, Jason here wanting the thing that killed him showing that, like his mother, he is playing out the cycles of trauma again. This is all a very psychoanalytic reading which is not at all my usual thing for good movies (read Skin Shows by Halberstam for, again, a much more competent analysis of why psychoanalysis is often reductive when applied to horror) but I think Jason X does lend itself to this lens and, again, busposting from memory not a fully researched essay. Jason then kills them by putting them in sleeping bags and hitting one sleeping bag with another which is on the one hand a reference to the "young women pillow fighting" sexual titillation motif but is, more importantly, absurdly funny to watch.

Like I've said throughout this, it's been almost a year and a half since I watched this film, but I absolutely do think the themes of sexuality are a significant enough part of it to not be dismissed offhand!

#anne i love you so much this was SO fun to write out #my film analysis is about finding seemingly stupid hills and dying dramatically atop them #this took me my whole commute. absolutely perfect start to my day

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goremet-chef · 1 year

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guhh im so bothered rnn (vent/rant)

so... i? idk. ive been out as trans in my house since 2020. my mom doesnt call me dom (sometimes she does if my sibling encourages her to, but she defaults back to my deadname anyways) and ive learned to accept it. i dont think she ever will and its sad for me, the reality that once i start my transition, ill need to just.. leave a lot of my family behind. they think its some rebellious choice like i hate all of them but im more worried about them hating me

my mom says shes supportive but is actively right wing, shes having an inner battle with her ideologies, i know that. i can tell by how she talks about homeless people vs how she talks about us being queer

so. whatever. thats my mom i guess. but for a long time, i wasnt out to my moms husband. i despise him and ive never intentionally started a conversation with him, let alone come out. ive started to not care about what he thinks. i know what he thinks, he thinks gays should die, said it straight to my gay siblings face. okay, cool. doesnt concern me, moms bf is absolutely fucking nothing to me.

to remedy this sort of like... we didnt wanna DEAL with what he might say if he heard both my siblings calling me dom, cuz both of them do, so whenever theyre around they would just refer to my deadname, but i saw it made them cringe, so now everyone calls me 'that one child'

that one, other one, etc etc

no one even calls me my name anymore

it makes me feel so hopeless. ive EXPRESSED it makes me upset but my younger sibling doesnt care (the one most guilty of it), because they dont understand why it upsets me, i guess thats enough reason to keep going

its so dehumanizing to be reduced to actually nothing. i ALREADY have heaps and heaps and HEAPS of identity issues. sometimes it gets so bad i start having crazy ass delusions, sometimes im not even present and its a different part of my mind in my body

its hard enough as is!!! now my family wont call me anything at all

it makes me feel less bad about leaving, but i dont think ill ever leave at this rate

need to start T, change my name, get a job, all in that order. starting T seems impossible at this rate. i.. dont know what to do. i cant keep LIVING like this, because im not living at all

i never leave my house because im too ashamed in how i look, i cant BEAR the thought of anyone else perceiving me as female, i cant fucking do it!!! im so tired. my house is like a prison for me, genuinely.

and my family dont get it, obviously. they think its my choice, im some kind of hermit who doesnt care about being outside because i have internet. they are so fucking wrong. i miss going out, i miss being around people, i miss existing like everyone else, but i just cant do it man. not like this

so it becomes a waiting game, when am i gonna bring up starting it? how do i even move forward once i do? what if she says no? id have to do it on my own but i cant.. i cant even order things for myself without freezing like shutting up will get me out of there, i cant fucking do it

she doesnt even know!! we were in the car together and she was like yknow theres people who cant even make a doctors appointment. what losers.

IM losers, would she have said that if she knew? does she know and decided to say it anyways? i dont know, but its just.. everything seems so hopeless at this point. i want to just give up, accept im not gonna be who i truly am, but man i cant stand being any more miserable

it makes me wanna cry, the only time i get to feel myself how i think i should be is either if i draw something fictitious, or if i spend hours in the mirror making sure i look masculine, my mustache is convincing, etc. AND FOR WHAT? literally for fucking WHAT, because i dont leave the house anyways!!!!! dolled up like i have somewhere to be, like my appearance will get me what i want, when im stuck at home! i got nothing to prove to them, they think what they think

its fucking dreadful. im so scared of my life passing me by, and here i am wasting away in my bedroom for the last 3 years. no progress, nothing. at first, i was scared about even starting T because theres a higher risk of heart disease, but. i dont fucking care if it KILLS me. i dont care!!! if it kills me i dont fucking care im not living the life i want to live anyways. the risk of death is worth it at this point, i mean that so seriously

idk. im just tired, is all. i wish everyone could perceive me the way i dream they would. only time that happens is online, or when im not with my family at all and instead with my friends. but we only hang out like. once in a blue moon

and yknow what? im not even safe then. i remember we were at my friends house for halloween last year (we always meet up). i had my full leatherface costume one, my face was touched up to make it look like the mask. and still. dressed that way, when my friends mom asked me what my name was, i said dom and she was immediately like. "oh, dominique?" no. my name is fucking DOMINIC.

i didnt say anything besides correcting her, but it was such a blow, man. the only time ill be happy is if im closely monitoring every single thing i do, to make sure i dont appear feminine at all. no matter how i look, now matter how deep my voice is. miserable. why would anyone think that id choose this

#tw transphobia #tw dysphoria #tw queerphobia #tw misgendering

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cutenessinanutshell · 2 months

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Good morning texts and videos. Spontaneous dates and extreme efforts to be around me. Tell me you’ll 50 first dates me until the day you die if it means I’d finally get that you want me more than anything in the world. Hold my hand at the dinner table and make the people on the street whisper to each other because “he cannot stop staring at her that’s so fucking cute.” Tell me I’m first priority and you’re happy to come second because you’re secure in who you are as a person and you want me to shine because you think I’m worth more than just my dreams dangled in front of me but always just far enough that I can’t reach them.

I want someone to want to marry me not because they know it’s important to me but because they are excited to have a life with me. Someone who holds my hand and asks about silver vs gold jewellery and remembers that I like peonies because no one ever sends them and they remind me of self love and the luxury I dream of.

I want someone who looks at me with softness but also looks at me with pure thirst and necessity. Like I’m some kind of queen to him. One that makes a grown man get on his knees to make sure in every single instance, I come first. I want someone to look at me with eyes so longing, it makes my heart stop and sink deeply into the unknown of what it means to have someone so obsessed with you. A man so masculine, I don’t have to think about anything because I know and can trust that he’s got it. I’m entirely safe with him and I would trust him to take me anywhere and I know, he’s got my back.

I want someone who looks at my family and is curious about them. Asks questions and saves pictures to remember moments I looked happy with them. And even though this person doesn’t have a close relationship with their family, they’re not bothered by the ideas that I might be with mine. Someone who knows they will stand out in my family but is excited for them to love him because he loves me. Who knows that my family can be difficult but doesn’t shy away because, when you know, you know, and I know, that I would be worth the trouble. And knows that when my family sees that their youngest adult is getting the princess treatment she’s always wanted, they will love him too. That they would trust him to drive me where I needed whenever I needed, that he would show up and go out of his way to show up if they asked him to, and that even if I was mad at him, that he’d still try to win them over, because even through my vindictive nature, I’d be worth the hassle. I want someone who laughs at the niceties my family has ingrained into my life but goes all in when it comes to those niceties being played out.

I just want someone who would connect the dots on our lives and how we were meant to be all these years. I want someone I could push away and it wouldn’t matter to him because he would still send me messages about how he’s gonna be mine forever and how he’s never gonna stop trying to prove that he’s real and not some kind of cruel sick joke of my imagination. I believe that everyone has a different way of loving and perceiving love, and I believe that for that reason, there is someone perfect for that unique individual. That if you want someone to treat you like a princess, that there is someone out there that will be that person for you and never complain about it. That if you want someone spontaneous, that there’s a person out there who will make you do things you never thought you’d do and love doing it. Or if you wanted someone who presented a quiet love, that there is someone out there that would give you quiet, peace in a way you never thought you’d ever have.

For me, I want loud love. I want love that makes other people uncomfortable, I want grand gestures and forehead kisses and a hand that never leaves my skin when we’re together.

What does it take to find forever

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