#some are closer than others but we’re all either trans or a cis man

[theghostown]

Us: why are we all so sure we should collectively identify as a trans man?

Every alter: either a man or nonbinary

[transmascissues]

trans men are allowed to connect to both parts of our identity equally — we shouldn’t be made to feel like we have to choose between our transness and our manhood.

i see this attitude a lot that we have to have some sort of allegiance to one “side” or the other. people act like we have to deny any connection to cis men if we want to be a real part of the trans community, and if we admit to feeling connected to cis men at all we must be rejecting the trans community.

i’ll see other trans men say things like “i have more in common with ____ than i ever will with ____”, some of them putting cis men first and others putting other trans people first. and we can’t really win no matter which we say; if we put cis men first, other trans people write us off as “assimilating” and assume we want nothing to do with the trans community, but if we put other trans people first, cis people (and, if we’re being honest, many other trans people) will take that to mean it’s okay for them to treat us like we’re not really men.

but the thing is, i don’t like either option anyway! i don’t want to pick one or the other, to put myself on one side and say i have nothing in common with the other — i’m trans and i’m a man, so other men and other trans people are equally “my people”. sure, more of my friends are other trans people than cis men, but that’s largely just because of chance, and the times i have gotten to really connect with cis men have been amazing!

i want other trans people and other men to see me as “one of them” because both parts of me are equally important. in fact, they’re not just equal, they’re completely inseparable from each other — you can’t have my transness without my manhood and you can’t have my manhood without my transness, and you can’t have me without either of them.

other trans people and my connection to the trans community are so important to me. being trans has opened up new paths for me that i never saw coming — in all the potential career paths i’ve explored, one of my main priorities has been finding ways to use it to give back to the trans community.

and other men are also incredibly important to me. i wish every day that i could be closer with more men in my life and build connections like i have with the trans community. i’ve spent my entire life being drawn toward men as a gay man, a trans man, and just as an admirer of so many men.

i don’t want to choose, and i hate how often we’re expected to pick a side and then judged based on which impossible choice we made. you can’t separate our manhood from our transness or vice versa, and you can’t separate us from other men or other trans people either. both parts of my identity are deeply important to me, and you will never see me willingly pick one over the other. it’s not like there’s a right answer anyway — people will find a way to hate me for either choice because really they hate me whether i choose or not, so why would i bother choosing at all?

i love and care for and connect with and identify with all of my people, not just one “side” of them or the other. being a man and being trans are both absolutely vital to my identity, not just one or the other. to make me pick between the two is to tear me in half down the middle, which is to say there won’t be much of me left at all if you try.

you get all of me at once or you don’t get any of me at all.

[geoclapicus]

So y’all know how, like, a bunch more people are being diagnosed as autistic and with other mental disorders? I’m beginning to think it’s much more common than anyone from the 70s and back could ever fucking dream of. Everyone in the past has just been such assholes to everyone with disorders they either hide it, or get shoved in the no-think box (asylums). Cause the CDC says like, half the population will eventual have some sort of mental disorder. What if that number is closer to 100%, and everyone was, and still are, trying to be an elitist asshole and say, “we’re the normal ones, you’re all weirdos!!”

My point is, I don’t think they’re mental disorders anymore.

It’s just life.

(BTW, I have no source or scientific evidence of any of this, it’s all speculation)

I totally didn’t even mention LGBTQ people, cause it’s not a disability or disorder, but it’s also an “irregularity” in society that’s becoming more widespread and I think it’s because we’re making progress in breaking societal walls and expectations.

Show everyone that even if you’re different, even if you’re “irregular,” you’re still a human, and that’s what counts. And to everyone who isn’t “irregular,” you need to put in even more work. As a society, people who are privileged need to use that privilege to fix the shit our similarly privileged ancestors fucked up.

Straight, white, male, all things our society dictates as “normal,” and places the least amount of restrictions on. I fall into the latter two categories, and I have privilege. People like me, we have societal sway in ways we don’t deserve, but we can use it. We can fight the laws that hurt our LGBTQ friends and family, the laws that hurt our POC friends and family. We can speak out for the women in our lives who can’t even choose what to do with their own bodies in some of the U.S. states.

But most importantly? We can teach the next generation. Some older folk won’t listen, they won’t change. But we are getting older too. We’re getting into office, we’re getting into the public eye. We can teach our children and our grandchildren to accept those of us who are “irregular,” and let them know they aren’t irregular at all.

Teach that we aren’t “white and black,” “male and female,” “straight and gay,” “trans and cis.”

We’re human and human, and that’s all we ever will be, or need to be.

(I wrote this all in like, 15 minutes and I say fuck spell check. Also, tell me if I’m out of line with anything I said here. As much as I like to think I’m informed with certain aspects of certain communities, I am still a white man who hasn’t had to deal with the experiences and trauma of so many people. Any and all corrections are appreciated. Unless you’re being a bigoted asshat. Then that is not welcome.)

And to be clear again, since I seem to have an endless stream if thought coming out my ass, THIS DOES NOT MEAN I WANT TO ERASE CULTURE AND DIVERSITY. Just because we’re all human, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate how our differences make us unique. We can recognize our differences without being bigoted. Life is a gray space, we should act accordingly.

Now I’m done. Congrats. Here’s a star ⭐️

[wickwrites]

Wonder Egg Priority Episode 4: Boys’ and Girls’ Suicides Do Mean Different Things (But Not in the Way the Mannequins Want You to Think!)

So, let’s talk about this for a second. After I got over my initial knee-jerk reaction, I realized I wasn’t sure how to make sense of exactly what the mannequins were arguing for here. So let me rephrase their statements to make the argumentative structure more explicit: Because men are goal-oriented and women are not, because women are emotion-oriented and men are not, and because women are impulsive and easily influenced by others’ voices and men are not, boys’ and girls’ suicides mean different things – girls are more easily “tempted” by death, and therefore, more likely to require saving when they inevitably regret their suicide. While Wonder Egg Priority, so far, seems to agree with the vague version of the mannequins’ conclusion, namely that boys’ and girl’s suicides mean different things, it refutes the gender-essentialist logic through which that conclusion was derived.

The mannequins choose a decidedly gender essentialist approach in explaining the difference between girls’ and boy’s suicides; they argue that the suicides are different because of some immutable characteristic of their mental hard wiring (in this case, impulsivity, emotionality, and influenceability). Obviously, this is a load of bull, and Wonder Egg Priority knows it. The mannequins are not exactly characters we’re supposed to trust, seeing that they’re running a business that is literally based on letting these kids put themselves in mortal danger. As faceless adult men, they parrot and possibly represent the systems that force these girls to continue to be subjected to physical and emotional trauma (it’s probably more complicated than this, but four episodes in, it’s hard to say more). So, we’re probably supposed to take what they say with great skepticism. Also, the director, Shin Wakabayashi, has recently said that in response to these lines, Neiru was originally going to object, “When it comes to their brains, boys and girls are also the same,” (which unfortunately is not exactly true and is somewhat of an oversimplification, but the sentiment is there). While that line ultimately did not make it in, Neiru does reply with a confused and somewhat indignant, “What?!”, a reaction that gets the message across.  Neiru is not a fan of gender essentialism, and as a (more) sympathetic character, we’re supposed to agree with her.

That is, the differences between boys and girls is not something inherent to their biology or character, but something constructed by culture and experience. This rejection of gender-essentialism is apparent in Wonder Egg Priority’s narrative, which takes a more sociocultural perspective on the difference between boys’ and girls’ suicides. It says, well of course boys’ and and girl’s suicides don’t mean the same thing, that’s the whole reason why we’re delving into the experiences specific to being a girl (cis or trans) or AFAB in this world – to show you how girls’ suicides are influenced by systems of oppression perpetuated by those in power (ie. the adult, in this specific anime).

And all the suicides we’ve seen up until now tie into that somehow. For instance, Koito is bullied by her female classmates who think that Sawaki is giving her special treatment. This is a narrative that comes up over and over again, in real life as well: that if a young girl is being given attention from an older man, then it’s her fault – that she must want it, or at least enjoy it somehow, and that it signifies a virtue (eg. maturity or beauty) on her part. And if Koito is actually being given such treatment by Sawaki, an adult man in a position of power over her, that is incredibly predatory. 

And we all know that child sexual abuse is something that overwhelmingly affects girls, with one out of nine experiencing it before the age of 18, as opposed to one out of 53 boys (Finkelhor et al., 2014). Regardless of whether Sawaki was actually abusing Koito or if the students only thought that he was, Koito’s trauma is ultimately the result of this romanticized “love between a young girl and adult man, but not because the man is predatory, but because the girl has some enviable virtue that makes her desirable” narrative. Similarly, in episode 2, Minami’s suicide is driven by ideas related to discipline and body image in sports, which while not necessarily specific to female and AFAB athletes, is framed in an AFAB-specific way. For instance, take the pressure on Minami to “maintain her figure”. Certainly, male athletes also face a similar pressure, but we know that AFAB and (cis and trans) female bodies are subject to closer scrutiny and criticism. We know that young girls are more likely to suffer from eating disorders. And Wonder Egg Priority situates Minami’s experience as decidedly “about” AFAB experience when her coach accuses her change of figure due to her period as a character failing on her part.

 Likewise, episode 3 delves into suicides related to “stan” culture, this fervent dedication to celebrities that is overwhelmingly associated to teenage girls. And Miwa’s story, in episode 4, explicitly shows how society responds to sexual assault. When Miwa does have the courage to speak up about her assault, she’s instantly reprimanded by basically everyone around her. Her father is fired because her abuser was an executive of his company. Her mother asks her why she couldn’t just bear with it, telling her that her abuser chose her because she was cute, as if that’s supposed to make her feel better about it. Wonder Egg Priority shows that this sort of abuse is a systemic problem, a set of rules and norms deeply engrained in a society and upheld by all adults, regardless of gender, social status, or closeness (to the victim). Wonder Egg Priority says that, yes, girls’ and boys’ suicides have different meanings, but it’s not due to some inherent difference between the two, but the hostile environment in which these girls grow up. Girls are not more easily “tempted” by death, they just have more societal bullshit to deal with.

But Wonder Egg Priority goes further than just showcasing how girls’ (and AFAB) experiences are shaped by sociocultural factors. The story also disproves the supposedly dichotomous characteristics that the mannequins use to differentiate girls and boys (i.e. influenceability/independence, impulsivity/deliberation, emotion-orientation/goal-orientation). If the mannequins are indeed correct, and that girls are just influenceable, impulsive, and emotional, you’d expect the girls in the story to be to be like such too. Except, they aren’t. Rather, they’re a mix of both/all characteristics. This show says that, certainly, girls can be suggestible, but they’re also capable of thinking for themselves. For instance, when Momoe asserts her own identity as a girl at the end of episode four, she rejects the words of those around her who insisted that she isn’t a girl. If she were as suggestible as the mannequins believe her to be, that would never have happened – she would have just continued believing that she wasn’t girl “enough”. But, she doesn’t because she is equally capable of making her own judgements. Likewise, Wonder Egg Priority shows that girls can be impulsive, but they can also be deliberate and pre-mediating. When Miwa tricks her Wonder Killer into groping her to create an opening for Momoe to defeat it, she’s not doing it out of impulse – it’s a pre-mediated and deliberate choice unto a goal. And Wonder Egg Priority continues, girls can be equally emotion oriented and goal oriented. Sure, the main girls are fighting because they have the goal of bringing their loved ones back to life, but those goals are motivated by a large range of emotions, from guilt to anger, grief, compassion, and love. 

Being emotion-driven doesn’t mean you’re not goal-driven, and vice versa. In fact, in this case, being emotional drives these girls toward their goals. In other words, none of these traits that the mannequins listed are either “girl traits” or “boy traits”. Being one does not mean you can’t be the other, even if they seem dichotomous at first. Wonder Egg Priority’s diverse cast of multi-dimensional female characters allows it to undermine the mannequins’ conceptualization of gendered roles, refuting the idea that these (or any) character traits should be consider gendered at all.

As an underdeveloped side thought, I think Wonder Egg Priority’s blurring of gendered roles is also well-reflected in its style. There’s been a lot of talk about whether Wonder Egg Priority constitutes a magical girl series, and I think that’s an interesting question deserving of its own essay. Certainly, it does follow the basic formula of the magical girl story: a teenage heroine ensemble wielding magical weapons saves the day. But it also throws out a lot of the conventions you’d expect of a magical girl story – both aesthetically and narratively. Aesthetically, it’s probably missing the component that most would consider the thing that makes an anime a magical girl anime: the full body transformation sequence, complete with the sparkles and the costume and all that. Narratively, the girls are also not really magical girl protagonist material – they’ve got a fair share of flaws, have done some pretty awful things (looking at Kawai in particular; I still love you though), and aren’t exactly the endlessly self-sacrificing heroines you’d expect from a typical magical girl story. On the other hand, the anime also borrows a lot from shonen battle anime. We get these dynamic, well choreographed action sequences full of horror and gore, the focus on the importance of camaraderie between allies (or “nakama”, as shonen anime would call it) exemplified through all the bonding between the main girls during their downtime, and in the necessary co-operation to bring down the Wonder Killers. That said, this anime is not a shonen; the characters, types of conflicts, and themes are quite different from those that you’d find in a typical shonen. The bleeding together of the shonen genre and the magical girl genre, at the very least (and I say this because I think it does way more than just that), reflects Wonder Egg Priority’s interest in rebelling against conventional narratives about girlhood and gender.

[lsleofthelost]

OKAY HI random but how do you hc the core fours gender identities / pronouns??? and how do you imagine them coming out to the rest of the group??? vv random but im curious and love ur work a lot

omg HIIII

love this question!!

i wouldn’t say any of these are like super set in stone for me because sometimes i think of a story where a narrative would be better if it was different (now if only i sat down and wrote those stories…)

Mal - i use she/they for Mal, though i mostly lean towards they/them. i like to think that faeries have a different view of gender than humans (because gender’s a social construct and faeries have a different society and all that) so they’re pretty detached from the human terms and don’t really care all that much about how they’re perceived. I don’t think Mal really had to come out to the core four since they were well known on the Isle + it’s common there to refer to all faeries with neutral pronouns unless stated otherwise. in Auradon, people mostly referred to Mal as she/her and that didn’t really bother them, but some people who became closer to the VKs hear others referring to Mal with they/them and start using that (tho Jane did that from the start because Jane’s also a faery!)

Jay - uhhh much less complicated, he’s a cis man who’s comfortable with his masculinity. plus, when he starts learning more about Agrabahn culture (which in my head is Arabic, mostly Saudi) and incorporating elements of it into his daily life with the help of Aziz and he is excited about it. a lot of it is what could be considered feminine in the western world, but Jay doesn’t give a fuck. kohl and floaty fabrics and silhouettes and the like.

Evie - definitely has complicated feelings about gender. because she was raised with this very narrow view of what is a girl and a woman and was only taught the restrictive parts of it. experiments a lot once she’s finally free of her mother, with her style, expression and what feels actually natural versus what has been taught by the Evil Queen. i’d say, at the end of the day, she uses she/her but doesn’t mind they/them either but mostly when describing her gender she’d say ‘i’m a witch!’

though i also fuck heavily with trans girl Evie

Carlos - you know how autistic people can feel a degree of separation from their gender because it’s all social and one of the big things with being autistic is trouble with social shit? yeah, that’s Carlos. went through a lot of his life like ‘well, no one really feels like the gender they were assigned at birth, we’re all just performing our roles, right?’ i think the realisation would only hit when in Auradon, a safe place where VKs don’t have to survive day-to-day but can actually live and explore. i don’t see Carlos being attached to a label, but the closest would probably be genderfluid. i feel like a lot of the time Carlos is a little separated from like their gender identity and it’s not really on their mind but there are time when it feels more? closer? so some days, they ask for specific pronouns to be used but mostly he’s good with he/they. again, i don’t think Carlos would have to come out, they’d just burst into the girls’ room one day and tell Evie to make them into ‘the prettiest girl ever’ and Evie would reply with something like ‘well i’m the prettiest ever, we can make you the close second’

[peterparkerstarker]

Employee Benefits - Starker

Written for my lovely Crush Anon who requested trans!Peter as a go go dancer at a gay nightclub, feat. “daddy kink, praise kink, humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, the good stuff !!!” 

Note: this fic uses the terms pussy and cunt to describe Peter’s junk as a trans man. I chose to use those terms because that’s what he was comfortable with as it plays into the humiliation kink, but it might not be for everyone and that’s okay. As a (mostly) cis writer, I tried really fucking hard to be as respectful as I could be about the trans experience, and make the humiliation more about Peter being desperate for Tony to fuck him than about his trans-ness.

-----------------------------------------------------

Peter was nervous about tonight.

It was his first shift at his new job, and anybody would be nervous on their first day, he reminded himself. It was normal, totally and completely normal.

Except for the fact that this wasn’t a normal job. Not in the least bit. He knew what he was getting himself into when he’d applied. But now that he was actually here, all dressed up and ready to go, he suddenly wondered if this was a bad life decision.

Go go dancer at a gay bar. What the hell was he thinking?

Sure, he and MJ had spent so many late nights practicing his moves, and Ned had lent him the money for his outfit, or at least what little clothing it comprised of. And they’d both lied their asses off to get Aunt May to believe he was safe with them, at an overnight astronomy club field trip. He was 18, so he was perfectly within his right to get a job dancing at this bar, but May would’ve thrown a fit and grounded him, so this was the best option he’d had. 

He shifted awkwardly in his outfit, a red leather chest harness that distracted from the binder he wore under it. At least he hoped it did. Ned had spent all his savings to help Peter order it online, and while Peter had insisted he’d pay him back by Christmas, they both knew there was no way he could afford to. 

He had tight blue shorts on as well, into which he’d securely tucked his packer, another gift from Ned with MJ’s help for his birthday last year. Peter glanced at himself in the mirror one last time before deciding there was nothing else he could do to get ready and would have to just go out and do the fucking job. This is what he’d willingly signed up for, after all. 

He took a deep breath and left the dressing room.

But now, as he stood there at the back of the stage, trembling, he wondered yet again what the fuck he was doing here. But something within him kept pushing him forward, made his legs keep moving until he came into the pulsing neon lights that lit up the club, the bass pounding and thrumming through his body, and with shaking hands he climbed into the cage that would be his work space for the next hour.

“We like to start the new guys out slow, so you’ll just be dancing for an hour at a time, with 30 minute breaks. We’ll see how that goes and then go from there,” the manager of the club had told him when offering him the job. An hour suddenly seemed like a lifetime now.

He let out a haltering breath, clicked the cage closed around him, and closed his eyes, feeling the music beat deep in his chest, connecting with it, letting his hips follow. 

This was the easy part, the part that made him want this so bad. It made him feel high, or drunk or something like that, he honestly didn’t know what either sensation was like, so he had to guess this was similar. Regardless, it felt so fucking good. Like his brain disconnected just enough from his body to be okay. He wasn’t Penis Parker when he danced, he wasn’t the kid at school that everyone gawked and laughed at, he wasn’t any of the shit they put him through. He was just Peter, vibing with the beat and letting his body talk for him. And he didn’t hate his body in those moments. He felt like himself, and that also felt so fucking good.

He opened his eyes, surveying the dark and crowded dance floor, and smiled. People were watching him, entranced by the way he moved, some were even copying him, trying to look cool. Some were significantly more successful than others.

One song blurred into another, faster and more erratic, and he began to let loose a little more, taking up more space in the small cage, grinding against the bars and feeling warm, sweaty hands grope him, desperate to touch him. And fuck, that felt good too. It made him dizzy, being so wanted and desired by these men. They saw him and couldn’t help themselves. And he wanted it just as much as them.

The hour passed in a flash, Peter lost in the music and the groping touch and the high of it all. He saw the light flash that signaled shift change and he begrudgingly let himself out, stopping to wink at a few of the more handsy clubbers on his way out and went back onto the main stage 

‘God, what a fucking trip’, he thought to himself. ‘I could get used to this.’

He stumbled backstage, suddenly so much more tired than he had realized, eager to sit down and take off his shoes. They hadn’t been hurting when he was dancing, but now he was so uncomfortably aware of the way they pinched his right pinkie toe and was desperate for reprieve.

The break went by quickly, shoes off, making sure to drink water and adjust himself in the bathroom, and then being whisked back on stage by the manager because he’d been such a hit that they wanted him back as soon as they could. 

This time, he stepped in with confidence, eyes locking on a gorgeous man with dark rumpled hair, olive skin, and a tight black tank shirt. His skin glistened, tight muscles in full display as he stared back at Peter.

Hungry. That was the look the man was giving him. 

Hunger. 

It made him shiver with need, and god, he wanted to be pressed up tight against this man’s hard sweaty chest, grinding and kissing and nipping at his neck. He kept staring, never letting himself lose sight of the man, dancing just for him this time.

Other hands ghosted across his skin, streaking him with glitter, but he didn’t pay them any mind. He had his sights set on one conquest, and he’d be damned if he lost tonight.

Peter didn’t really have experience with sex, but he didn’t intend to let that stop him. He knew what he liked, knew all the fucked up, degenerate things he craved, and he would be damned if his inexperience was going to hold him back tonight.

He danced out the rest of his second set, eyes locked on the man, daring him silently to come closer, but the man was playing his own wordless game. He never came close enough to touch, never seemed to pay mind to the hordes of man grasping for any skin contact they could get with Peter’s soft, creamy skin. 

He seemed almost… amused now. Like there was a joke only he was in on, and that only made Peter want him more. He wasn’t begging for Peter’s attention like these other men, he knew in no uncertain terms that he deserved it, and was going to get what he wanted. 

It made Peter need him all the more.

His second set finally ended, and as he was climbing out of the cage, pushing away clingy hands of strangers, he lost sight of the man. He’d turned his back for a minute and suddenly the man was gone.

Fuck. 

So much for that…

It was the end of his trial shift and he’d been hoping to sneak onto the dance floor to get up close and personal with the stranger, but try as he might, Peter couldn’t spot him anywhere.

He sighed and hurried back to the dressing room to peel off his sticky clothes and clean up. Tonight had been good, great even, but he was sad about the missed opportunity.

He walked into the dingy backstage room and blinked at the bright light, confused.

The man, the one he’d the past hour eye-fucking while he grinded mostly naked against metal cage bars was sitting there, looking calm and expectant. 

Peter blinked again, confused and speechless. The man smiled a half-cocked grin and extended a hand as if to shake. “I’m Tony. And you are?”

Peter just kept blinking. ‘Jesus’, he thought, ‘Say something!’

He stuttered out his name and felt a blush rising hot and fast to his cheeks. Why was this guy back here? No one but staff was supposed to be back here.

“Bucky didn’t tell me he’d hired a new kid, and I’m gonna have to give him extra hell for not telling me just how incredible you look up there.”

Peter cleared his throat, working up the courage to say, “It’s my first night.. I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Tony. I thought we just went over this?” he said, grinning again and leaning back in the dressing room chair Peter had used earlier.

“No, I know your name’s Tony, but why are you back here? Only staff is allowed, and I don’t want to get in trouble with the manager. He looks like he could kick my ass,” Peter said, finding the courage to square his shoulders and face this man head on.

“Calm down, geez. Bucky isn’t telling anyone shit apparently. I’m Tony, the owner of this bar. Bucky works for me, he’s the bar manager, and he oversees the scheduling and hiring when I’m away for business trips, but this is my bar, I can do whatever I want. And to be quite honest,” he said, looking Peter up and down slowly. “What I want to do right now is you.”

Peter felt like his brain had short circuited just a bit.

This gorgeous man wanted him. And not just in an across a crowded room way. He’d come back to proposition Peter. 

And fuck, did Peter want him. His body was aching and sore, but he wanted to do whatever this man asked of him, his need for this stranger overpowered any need for rest after hours of dancing on display.

Tony quirked his head to the side and added, ”Of course, if you’re not interested that’s perfectly fine, no harm no foul, welcome to the Iron Man team, we’re glad to have you and it’ll be strictly professional from here on out. But I get the sense that’s not what you want, is it?”

Peter shook his head no, maybe a little too eagerly, if Tony’s bark of a laugh was any indication.

Tony gestured to him to come closer, and Peter did, getting close enough to touch, but he refrained.

“I want you to kneel for me.”

And Peter did, falling to the ground wordlessly, entranced by the sheer power this man held over him with a look and a few simple words. He would do just about anything to feel Tony's touch, but that wasn’t the game they were playing, and he was more than happy to play this one out.

Tony stroked his cheek, gently, warm and sweet and never broke eye contact. Peter felt himself practically panting, needy and desperate for more.

“I’m probably twice your age, you know?” tony whispered

“I don’t care.”

“I’m old enough to be your father.”

“Well, I never knew my dad, so what does that matter?”

Tony grinned devilishly at that. “Daddy issues huh? I can most certainly work with that.” He unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock, and letting Peter stare doe-eyed at it in excitement. It was just as gorgeous as him, long and thick and just slightly curved up, cut and defined and glistening at the head with pre-cum. 

A wet dream come to life.

Peter’s mouth watered, he needed so badly to get his tongue on Tony's cock. Needed to taste and feel and suck and swallow. Needed to fuck him and let Tony have his way with him. Needed to be used.

Tony nodded, ever so slightly, and Peter took that as a sign to start, licking up the length of him gently, ever so gently, and smiled as Tony let out a deep groan. He’d never done this before, but he’d watched enough porn to know the basics. 

He knew it wasn’t the best head of Tony's life, but he didn’t care. He was sucking off a stranger on a dirty floor of a gay bar where he was now a gainfully employed go go dancer. Peter wasn’t going to waste a second worrying, he was too lost in the silky texture of Tony’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth, the way his hips thrust to meet Peter’s lips, the panting breaths Tony let out, the little moans of pleasure that encouraged him to keep going, let him know he was doing good.

“Ah, that’s it, such a dirty slut, on your knees for a man you just met. God, you’re gorgeous, lips wrapped around my cock. I wanna wreck you with it, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Tony asked.

Peter eagerly nodded, still too focused on licking the head of Tony's cock to properly reply, and Tony grabbed his chin sharply, pulling his face up to look up into his eyes.

“Such a cockslut. You can’t even focus enough to tell me that’s what you want. Bet I could lift you up and fuck you on this table right now and you’d be begging me to fill you. Is that what you want? Me to fuck you till you can’t take any more? Of course, I wouldn’t stop until I was done. I’d keep fucking your tight little hole, make you scream and cry. Do you want me to make you cry Peter?”

And Peter let out a moan ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. He’d never wanted anything more. He could feel himself dripping wet, his shorts were probably soaked through already. 

He needed Tony to pound into him until he came, screaming and crying and begging for more. He needed to be tony’s fuck toy, humiliated and used. His whole body ached with the need to be wrecked by Tony's huge cock. 

Tony saw the desperation in his eyes, the way his lip trembled, and suddenly lifted him up off the floor and onto the cluttered table top. Items clattered to the ground to make room for Peter’s slim body, but they didn’t pay attention to them, too caught up in kissing frantically, biting and sucking, Tony working his mouth down Peter’s neck, hard enough to leave bruises. It hurt so bad, but the minute he lifted his mouth from each spot, a wave of endorphins crashed through his body, like a high he’d never imagined before. He wanted tony to hurt him, keep hurting him enough to make him cry out, anything to keep feeling this fucking good.

Tony unceremoniously pulled down his shorts, packer and all, and stared in wide eyed hunger at Peter’s uncovered skin. 

He suddenly felt so shy, so self conscious. Humiliated. A searing flash of heat worked its way under his skin. No one had seen him like this. Peter didn’t even like to look at this part of himself, but the way Tony looked at him, like an animal ready to pounce, starving and greedy. He pushed those feelings aside. He needed tony to fuck him, needed tony to know how much he wanted him, how wet he got for him.

And Tony did touch him, rubbing his swollen wet clit, gentle circles at first, getting a feel for Peter's body, and then faster, harder, brutal and wonderful all at once. As soon as Tony knew Peter could take a little, he would go full force, overwhelming him with sensation. It made him shake with need. He needed Tony to stuff his cock into him.

Peter let out a whine, grinding hard against his hand, and Tony grasped onto his chin again, holding him  tight with the hand that wasn’t pumping away. 

“Daddy doesn’t like greedy boys, you understand? You'll take what you're given and be grateful for it. Cum sluts don’t get to set the pace. You’re mine right now, and I say when you can come, understand?”

Peter looked away, embarrassed to respond, and Tony clinched harder onto his chin, grip tight enough to bruise. At the same time, his fingers slipped into Peter, two, maybe three? Peter wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Tony filling his pussy up was the best goddamn feeling in the world, and he needed more.

He nodded feverishly, letting out a breathy “ Yes daddy,” and was rewarded with Tony's fingers curling up inside him, hitting a spot that made his vision blur a bit.

“Good boy, such an obedient little thing when you want to be. Daddy’s gonna train you so well. I’ll have you coming all over my hand on command soon enough. You’ll be begging to drink my cum after I'm through with you.”

And as he said that, he took out his fingers, held them up for Peter to see his own pre-cum dripping and glistening in strands between his fingers, and then he was thrusting himself deep into Peter's cunt, the head of his cock hitting deep inside him. He was going to be so sore tomorrow, and the thought of feeling a reminder of tony’s cock deep inside him tomorrow made  him shiver with excitement.

Tony pounded into him, a brutal pace that left him breathless. All the while, he bit and sucked bruises up Peter’s exposed collarbone, the waves of adrenaline hitting even harder with Tony buried deep inside him. He could feel it building, like waves of heat crashing over him. 

“Fuck, Tony, I’m gonna… I think I'm gonna…” 

“That’s it baby boy, come for daddy, want you to come all over my cock, wanna feel you tighten around me, you can do it, come for your daddy.”

And he did, clenching and wet and screaming out Tony's name. He hoped the pounding music from the dance floor was enough to drown out his yells as he came.

And then Tony was yelling along with him, spurting deep inside him, coating him with sticky wet cum, marking him, claiming him. 

They lay there for a minute, Tony's heavy body pressing him down hard against the top of the table, sweaty and panting and grinning at each other like fools. Tony leaned down to kiss him. Gently, ever so gently. A tender kiss that made Peter fall in love that much more.

As Tony pulled out, Peter could feel his cum squelching inside him, oozing out of his gaping hole, cooling as it trickled down, a messy reminder of what they’d just done.

Tony helped Peter up, helped him clean himself up as best as he could, and gave him another kiss, turning Peter’s bruised chin up to stare into his eyes.

“Tomorrow night I want you here an hour early for your shift. We’ve got some extra hands on training to do… understand?” Tony asked, and Peter early agreed.

He collected his stuff, only just now starting to wonder how the hell he was going to hide these bruises from aunt may. He’d just have to tell her he was staying the night at Ned’s tomorrow, and ask MJ to help him conceal them with makeup.

He was about to leave, still floaty and out of it on how good it felt to be fucked like that, when Tony called out, “Make sure to tell Buck thanks from me on the way out, will you?”

Peter stared back, confused.

“He’s been trying to find me a new boy for a while now, he must’ve taken one look at you and known how badly I’d want you.”

Peter flushed, pride and shame swirling into each other. 

“Don’t forget, an hour early tomorrow, and be ready to make daddy happy, understand?” he added, with a wink that made Peter wet all over again.

‘Not too bad for a first night on the job,’ he thought. He could certainly get used to these benefits.

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

Queers in Space (DS9 Edition) Part 1 (Seasons 1-midway season 5)

Continuation to Queers in Space (TNG)

Benjamin Sisko: Similar to Picard's Captain-Gender, Sisko is Dad (some characters, like Julian, might occasionally look at him and think Daddy, mainly when he's being Righteous). He’s very caught up in caring about everything and is just happy he’s got such a large family (although he wishes there were more babies he could dote on). What he otherwise really loves is getting pegged by beautiful women.

Kasidy Yates: Speaking of women who peg...  She uses she/her pronouns and “woman” but her relationship to gender is like... not relevant. Not needed. Whatever. Call me whatever and I'll respond to it. And she's pan. She's been in space for long enough to have realised that attraction is attraction. Chaotic bench, I love her.

Jake Sisko: he's a burgeoning bisexual, Byron is his literary inspiration and he's the only man on DS9 who's pretty consistently half-well-dressed (you cannot change my mind about this). He and Nog have tested kissing. Mayhaps they may try out more in future.

Kira Nerys: Her lesbianism was so powerful that she was barely allowed to interact with other women (mirror!Kira may have been a bad bisexual trope, but she was also far closer to the truth). Not just a lesbian, but stompin' about in her butch boots and padded shoulders for the first half of the series, damn! All those guys she keeps dating are her beards.

Jadzia Dax: Omnisexual, poly, genderqueer babe - the poly part is why I cannot fully ship her with Worf, even though I love that she’s with a partner she can spar with (in ahem multiple ways). The whole point of trill is to experience life to the fullest and Jadzia takes that brief very seriously (that is canon!). At heart she's also very romantic. The fact that she and Nerys don't seem to have any storylines together is homophobia.

Julian Bashir: Trans, queer, dork. He canonically comes aboard knowing nothing about himself or the universe, he's just here to learn and have a good time and be an idealistic hero and accidentally fall in love with both his best friend and a lizard spyman and we're here cheering that wonderful foot-fetishist on like proud parents (Benjamin has literally sat him down to give him his blessing, but also express his confusion about his tastes).

Elim Garak: Blessed by the mouth of Andy Robinson himself, omnisexual and into Julian and down to clown and generally just a chaotic energy of fun and murder and sex, in whatever order. I read a thing about Cardassians choosing gender through specific make-up and the blue mark on the forehead, and they're all intersex and honestly Yes This! Garak opted out. He dresses like the genderqueer slut icon he is.

Miles O'Brien: I could go 50 different places with him. At first I wrote him off as a straight cis guy, but then as DS9 went on I became less sure... for one, there's Julian and the poly marriage with Keiko and Nerys. For two... it'd be fun if he were gendershrug. “I'm an engineer, I haven't got time to think about that” - does this open up the possibility that in the future all humans choose their own gender? I mean, the federation is supposed to be a form of minor utopia, so yes, and Miles just never got around to it and never will.

Keiko O'Brien: My poly, pan queen. I didn't see her and Nerys coming at aaaall and may I just say I am thrilled. It's what she deserves. She has two hands and a large heart (and a large bed too). She's a lady, but by now I've entirely decided that cis just doesn't exist at that point in the future. Gender is A Choice and she liked the sound of woman and like with everything else she liked the sound of, she grabbed it with both hands and went “mine” (she did that with Miles and Nerys as well).

Worf (Part 2): Ds9 is when Worf got more interesting to me. He was fine on TNG, but here, my word. Both the worst and the best. Okay, yes, he's very monogamous, I will relent. But also he's got a much bigger bi energy going for him, which I celebrate. On that note, if Garak isn't his type, what kinda person is? I'm assuming he's just not into Cardassians as a rule, because of their culture-biases. He likes a partner who'll punch him in the face before propositioning with all their cards on the table. What he needs is to get pegged.

Odo: Ace and aro. He’s full of love. In order to mimic “solids” he tries to make sense of his emotions from their perspectives and so comes to the conclusion that he definitely isn’t allowed to love Quark and definitely ought to be in romantic love with Nerys, but once he understands himself better, he doesn’t feel such a need to limit himself. He has unlimited hands you guys!!!! (sometimes he has no hands, but that doesn’t limit him either). He’s tried out various body shapes, and he likes the sound of “man.” He can’t place his finger on why, and honestly he doesn’t have to. It’s his identity. Hope he realises how loved he is.

Quark: He thought he was your average straight man on the station, but ds9 has a way of bringing out your true colours and it turns out he’s in love with an occasional bucket of goo. He expresses this by snarking at aforementioned goo-man. This isn’t even me, this is just... canon facts. Ferengi have strong binary genders. Quark is a man, but he’s later not-so-secretly sympathetic towards people who veer away from binary gender, such as...

Rom: Is “not having the lobes for business” code for being trans-femme? Kinda feeling it is. In a way it’s harder to be trans-masc, simply because afab people in Ferengi culture have a much harder time escaping the home planet in order to explore themselves, and Rom will eventually launch a campaign for equality for trans Ferengi (what is “trans” in Ferengi?) Also he’s more ace than he realises. He has urges (that one episode... definitely proved that), but they’re not directed at anyone. He likes being loved. Surprisingly sex doesn’t play as big a role in that as he might’ve thought it would.

Nog: "Doesn’t have the lobes for business” but is kinda chill about gender. Probably due to having grown up amongst other humanoids. Especially come starfleet academy he fully embraces gender and sexuality definitions as being “eh” to him. It’s not his interest, so he doesn’t define it. That being said, he’s also somewhere along the bi/pan spectrum.

Leeta: Pan-ace. She likes a certain amount of attention, and she has strong sensual attraction and she doesn’t mind sex, but as long as she’s loving and loved, she’s happy. After dumping Julian (like they both deserve), she gets a bunch of sugar-parents, who pay her school for her. It’s like hunger games out there, with how every one of them tries to impress her the most. She likes the attention and she loves studying, she can do it all. Be a bombshell and a smart cookie.

Gul Dukat: His gender and sexuality are “idiot clown-man.”

[saywhatjessie]

TRC Exchange

This is my gift for @richardcampbells who requested so primo Gansey content! 3.7k [Ao3]

Gansey did not remember being this twitchy in high school.

It was difficult to remember ‘high school’ as this thing that had happened to him only a short year ago and not something in his distant past. He’d experienced so many things in the years of high school and also in the gap year since, it was hard to hold the memory of Aglionby as something associated with himself. He had felt quite different then.

Quite less twitchy.

Blue would probably take offense to the word twitchy. He didn’t think it was a slur of any kind, but it still felt like a word she would not-so-gently correct. Fidgety, she might say. Hyper.

Not that he was hyper, he just couldn’t seem to stop picking at the corner of his folder. Or playing with the zipper tag on his schoolbag. He had to admit, he did feel rather high-strung.

To be so far away from her – Blue – when they’d so recently been so close. Closer than close. It was mildly unbearable.

And not only her, but Henry who had been with them on their gap year road trip around the world. Adam, who was following his own academic pursuits but had been a real grounding presence in his Aglionby days. Ronan, who he missed like a limb and who’d worried him while he’d been away and potentially worried him more now that he was close but still extremely far.

Georgetown was not so far. Ronan came to the area every week for mass with his brothers.

It was enough distance for Gansey to feel it in the marrow of his bones.

He tapped his pen distractedly against his laptop, waiting for class to start and contemplating if he should send Ronan another text. Just to make sure he was coping. He couldn’t remember ever tapping his pen at Aglionby.

“Okay, class, welcome to BBH 251, colloquially known as ‘Straight Talks.’”

Gansey sat up straighter, taking a firmer grip on his pen to sublimate the urge to fidget.

“You can all put your laptops away, this isn’t that type of class.”

Gansey startled, blinking for a good few seconds before shutting his laptop and sliding it back into his bag. He wasn’t sure what kind of class didn’t require taking notes. His pulse jumped a bit in his neck, some predecessor to an inappropriate sense of dread.

“This class is about exploring intersectional identity, putting focus on privilege and invisible identities.”

And now the dread made more sense. Gansey was always far too aware of his privilege.

It would be absolutely heinous to have to get up in the front of this room and list out all the ways society valued him more than them. Looking around the room there were women, there were people of color. Students with pride flags on their bags and their hair dyed outrageous colors. There were students who looked like Adam had when he’d first come to Aglionby: hollow cheeked and broken down in a way that could only be reached by withstanding poverty. How was he supposed to come out to this class as a straight, white, wealthy son of a Republican career politician?

“The class is called straight talks because what we learn in this class, we carry over into other classes. We reach out to other classes and introduce ourselves with our full intersectional identities.”

The horrors continued abound. Gansey would have to do this around the entire university.

“I’ll start.”

Their instructor introduced herself as a white, cis woman. She was a lesbian athlete in her mid-fifties. She talked about the difficulties of being a lesbian athlete, how she suffered ageism in the gay community, and the stereotypes that come with it.

Braver souls than Gansey came forward and asked what cis meant. The teacher calmly explained that it simply meant “not trans”. Gansey hadn’t known there was a word for that. He hadn’t thought about the need for one. And that made him feel worse than anything. Because anything that wasn’t “other” was “normal”. What a terribly privileged thing he was.

“And now, to present more examples from your peers, I’ve asked some of my students from last semester to show you what a straight talk might look like. Ryann, do you want to start?”

Ryann didn’t look particularly bothered either way, but started on what was obviously a well rehearsed speech.

He was genderfluid, which meant he changed his pronouns regularly, but he told them all that at this moment he was a he so please refer to him as such. He was of Māori descent. He talked about what it was like to be underrepresented and constantly likened to Taika Waititi just because he was the only Māori person anyone ever heard of, if they’d heard of it at all. He suffered from EDS, which meant he had what was usually referred to as an invisible disability. In other words: people assumed he was abled when they looked at him since he didn’t need a wheelchair. At least not yet.

This wasn’t at all about Gansey, but he still found himself sinking slightly in his seat, the shame he felt by the simple fact that he had none of these additional social obstacles to deal with making him feel absolutely wretched and helpless.

The next speaker helped some. She was white and cis and able-bodied. But she spoke of growing up in poverty in the American south, constantly living in fear because she was bisexual and a woman. She discussed how she’d known more girls who’d experienced sexual violence than she could fit on two hands.

Gansey felt a little like crying. Actually, a lot like crying. But he was a Gansey and he would never show such unmeasured behaviour in company. And this was not about him. He would not make it about him.

The last person was agender. They were mixed race: what races, they weren’t even sure because they were adopted. They grew up in a wealthy family but lived in a community where they didn’t feel deserving of that station. Feeling undeserving was something, at least, Gansey understood.

They were also demisexual.

“So, demisexuality is on the spectrum of asexuality,” the person – Storm – explained, in a practiced-sounding way, but not like Gansey thought they were tired of explaining: they still sounded as if they cared deeply about this label. “Everyone’s heard of the Kinsey scale?” Most everyone nodded, Gansey maybe too enthusiastically. He’d read a lot of history when he’d realized Adam was bisexual. “Asexuality has that same kind of scale, ranging from sex-repulsed asexual to sex-positive gray-asexual. Asexuality is differentiated by the lack of feeling of sexual attraction. sex-repulsed asexuals don’t feel sexual attraction and don’t want sex in any way. People can still be asexual but have sex anyway for stress relief or for their partner: they don’t feel the attraction but don’t mind the act itself. Gray-asexual people can feel sexual attraction but only sometimes. It’s all very relative and, obviously, I don’t speak for everyone blah blah blah. Following?”

There were grumbles of assent from the assembled class and Gansey nodded distractedly.

What Storm (and that was another thing: Ronan would absolutely love the names nonbinary people chose for themselves when Gansey told him) what Storm was talking about with gray-asexuality sounded just like normal people. Not everyone experiences sexual attraction ALL the time. Then wouldn’t everyone want to have sex with everyone else all the time? That sounded extremely distracting, who would have the time?

And not everyone was in the mood all the time either. He was working to be really open-minded, but this didn’t sound real. 

“Demisexuality,” Storm continued, “Is on that spectrum. The important qualifier is that demisexual people can feel sexual attraction but only if they establish an emotional bond with someone first.”

And just like that, something in Gansey’s head snapped.

He shot his hand up.

Their professor waved him off. “We’re not doing questions right now,”

“That’s okay.” Storm said, smiling at him. Something in their eyes glinted in what Gansey thought might be recognition, even though they’d never met. “What’s up?” They asked, nodding at Gansey.

Gansey had no idea what was up. He hadn’t raised his hand with any kind of plan.

“Hello. My name is Gansey,” he introduced himself, because his mother always said that was a good jumping off point. “Demi is from the Latin word dimidius meaning partially or half.”

That probably wasn’t the right direction to start with, judging by the muttering and eye rolling from his classmates. Gansey felt his neck heat up but Storm looked amused.

“Are you calling me half-sexual?”

“No,” Gansey shook his head, trying to come off better. “I guess I just wondered how the leap was made from demi meaning half to demi meaning… what you said.”

“Mr. Gansey–” the teacher started again, looking a little put-out. Gansey guessed he’d probably said something wrong. Something offensive. Something condescending. He was good at that.

But Storm waved her off again. “I don’t know, man, I didn’t invent the word. I just learned it, same as you’re learning it now.” Their eyes flashed again on the words ‘same as you’. “I learned the word and I remembered every teacher I’d had a crush on growing up after they’d established a connection with me. I remembered the weird sex dreams I’d had about literally every one of my friends. I remembered how any time someone talked about having sex with a stranger I thought they were kidding because how could you feel that way about someone you didn’t know?”

Gansey’s hand gripped the seat of his chair, each statement from Storm triggering his own memories. How he’d never had a crush on a girl – a serious, Want To Do Anything About It crush – until Blue. How confused he’d been when Adam said he had more experience with girls, because he hadn’t, really. How Helen’s advances on poor unsuspecting men felt false, because how could she want to sleep with all of them? She’d just met them.

And he remembered the weird sex dreams he’d had about Adam and Ronan, even though he was straight.

At least… he’d thought he was straight?

Storm smiled at him in a soft, almost pitying way. “Any other questions?”

Gansey shook his head. “No, thank you. Please continue.”

It seemed this class may teach him more than he’d counted on.

His first order of business was to call Blue.

Both because he needed to speak with her about this new word he’d just learned and also because he had a scheduled call with her and also because he missed her fiercely.

“Have you heard this word ‘demisexuality’?” Gansey asked by way of hello.

He could almost hear Blue blink in surprise. “No. Where have you heard the word demisexuality?”

“I’m taking this Bio-Behavioral Health class. It’s usually reserved for at the very earliest second semester students but I spoke to my advisor about my apprehension regarding achieving the required credits for gen eds and she suggested combining requirements through some classes that might cover both. This class counts for gym and science.”

“So you’re not taking a gym class?” Blue hummed, mournfully. “No pictures of sunkissed Gansey rowing in the early morning?”

Gansey’s ears heated up and he cleared his throat. “Any photos you’d like I’ll take for you, Jane.”

Blue hummed again, self-satisfied.

Gansey cleared his throat again. “So this class explores identity and marginalization–”

Blue cut him off with a barked laugh. “Oh, man, I would love to watch this class react to you .”

“Yes, Jane, it was not very comfortable for me, aware as I am of my privilege.” He tried not to sound petulant but he was and it did. “But there was a student named Storm who introduced me to this new word. Demisexuality, I mean.”

“Okay,” Blue said. There was rustling on the other side and Gansey pictured her getting comfortable, sitting in the chair next to the table in the phone/sewing/cat room. She had her own cell phone by now – a fight that spanned weeks and several countries of their road trip – but she refused to use it to speak to Gansey himself, only saving it for calling her mother while she was away or to speak to Adam on the phone his own boyfriend had bullied him into accepting. He assumed she’d cave and use it to speak to him when she was away at school herself (her semester didn’t start until October) but for now they were relying on old habits. “So tell me about demisexuality.”

He began to talk through it with her, repeating some of what Storm said and drawing new conclusions and going so far as to pull a webpage on the subject up on his phone as he spoke, switching between reading off of it and putting the phone to his ear to hear her reply. He knew she could have looked this up herself, but he appreciated she was letting him tell her about it. Teaching her was the easiest way for him to learn himself.

She cut to it pretty quick. “Is that what you think you are?”

Gansey blinked, expecting the question, he supposed, but not expecting how it would make him feel.

“I thought I was straight,” he answered. Because it was true. Even if it was becoming less true by the moment. 

There was a rustling that Gansey recognized as a shrug. “Everyone thinks they’re straight until they don’t.”

Gansey blinked again.

“Thank you, Jane.”

Blue hummed. “I’m gonna let you sit with this. Call me back with any updates?”

Gansey hummed back. They hung up.

Gansey appreciated she wanted to let him sit with this – it was a kindness and potentially a necessity. He didn’t know how to do this, he’d never had a sexual identity crisis before.

So he called Ronan.

Who didn’t answer, of course, so he was forced to sit with his sexual identity crisis.

  He sat with it for two hours until Ronan sent him a text. “Dick.”

Gansey called him.

Ronan answered. “Jesus Mary, Gansey, what ?”

“I think I had a crush on you when we first met.”

Ronan choked and immediately hung up.

Gansey swore, growling, before hitting redial.

“Gansey, I swear to Christ,” Ronan pleaded.

“Shut up!” Gansey swore. “Please shut up. I am so stressed out right now, Ronan.”

Ronan, for his part, shut up. It was an angry and embarrassed silence, but considering what Gansey had just confronted him with that was understandable.

“I learned something in one of my classes today and Jane thinks it might apply to me.” Blue had said no such thing, but something told Gansey that Ronan would take information like this more seriously if it came from sensible Blue. “There is apparently a sexual orientation previously unbeknownst to me that describes feelings of attraction only when there’s an established emotional connection.”

Ronan was silent for a few breaths before he said “Okay?”

“So we were very close when he first met and I felt an immediate connection to you and I didn’t know how to process that outside of friendship because I’d never felt it before but now with this new term sort of recontualizing things, I think it may have been a crush.”

Ronan made a sort of squawk in his throat, reacting similarly to the first time Gansey had said the word “crush” but, thankfully, not hanging up the phone.

“Gansey… I don’t know what you want me to do with this.”

Gansey opened his mouth then shut it again. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from Ronan either. He didn’t know how to ask “Do you think I had a crush?” or “Do you think I’m not straight?” or “How do I restructure myself, how do I think of myself, if I’m not straight like I always thought?”

But that was an emotional burden he had no business troubling Ronan with. Gansey’s feelings weren’t Ronan’s responsibility. He had other things going on.

“Nothing,” he answered, quickly, attempting to brush off the entire conversation. “Just a thought to mull over. I thought I’d share. But, you’re right, you have other things to do–”

Ronan sighed so loud and dramatically, he cut off Gansey’s prepared polite change of topic right in its tracks.

“Gansey, it’s okay if you’re not straight. It would be fucking cool, actually. That means none of us are straight. High five for a perfect queer score or whatever the shit.”

Gansey’s mouth twitched.

“And if you had a crush on me that’s cool too.” He cleared his throat, his next statement coming out as a growl to cover embarrassment. “I had a crush on you in the beginning, too. So it’s whatever.”

Gansey grinned. “Oh, you did?”

“We are never bringing this up again,” Ronan told him firmly. “But yeah, man, you’re like the portrait of well tended youth. But you drove a fast and shitty car and smiled like a dork. I was sixteen, what do you want?”

Gansey’s grin softened. “Well, now I feel indecorous. You’ve had time to think about this. I have nothing prepared to tell you why you were crushworthy.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Ronan said, quickly. “Tell me about the crush you had on Parrish, instead.”

Gansey sat up straight, very much feeling like he’d received a rowing oar to the face. “Did I have a crush on Parrish?”

Ronan snorted, cruel yet fond. “Of fucking course you had a crush on Parrish. Everyone with eyes and a brain has had a crush on Parrish.”

Gansey frowned but remembered again the inappropriate sex dreams. Then he blushed. Then he conceded. “I suppose you make valid points.”

Ronan laughed. “Did you get butterflies the first time he helped you fix the Pig?”

Gansey hummed, getting a little lost in the memory, before jerking back. “Oh. Have I been a little stupid about this?”

Ronan snorted again, the sound 100% joy this time. “Yeah, man. But that’s okay. No one can know everything.”

When Gansey was slated to present his own “straight talk” to the class weeks later, he was prepared. Not ready. Not comfortable. But prepared.

“Hello,” Gansey started, his politician’s-son smile on. “My name is Richard Campbell Gansey III, but I go by Gansey. The legacy in my family, so aptly captured by my name, has never been something I was comfortable with.”

Gansey watched a few faces around the room nod. Expressing that they saw him, they understood what he was saying, and they accepted it.

It gave him the strength to continue. He smiled a bit more easily this time.

“It feels overly boastful to list the ways for which I have privilege in this world – it was something I was never brought up to put a name to for fear of coming off ungracious or pompous. But putting a name to something is the first step to breaking down the social structures that put people like me so far ahead simply by the state in which I was born. So just because it makes me uncomfortable, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it. I only ask that as I go down my list, you all don’t hate me too much.”

That got a few laughs. Gansey sighed a bit in relief before steeling himself.

“I’m white. White Anglo Saxon Protestant, which is rather ironic as I’m deathly allergic to wasps.” Another laugh. Gansey took another breath. “I come from a wealthy family: what some call old Virginia money. I’ve never wanted for anything. I am cis, I am male, I am able-bodied – save my poor eyesight and previously mentioned bee and wasp allergy. Access to care for eyes and allergy has never been a problem, though, because of the aforementioned wealth. I’ve been able to go through my life relatively normally because of the wealth and despite what otherwise might be debilitating conditions.”

The bee allergy had killed him, once, but Gansey wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to get into that in this setting.

“I have a girlfriend, so I am straight passing,” Gansey continued, swallowing. “And, until very recently, I thought I was straight.”

He lifted his eyes to the class, hoping some of them were remembering his questions to Storm on the first day. Storm themself wasn’t there but Gansey pictured them in his mind as he continued.

“Learning about demisexuality has opened some things up for me,” he confessed. “I spoke to my girlfriend and to some friends from high school who are queer themselves and who I only recently realized I had had crushes on. They all think it’s extremely funny, telling me I was terrible at hiding it. And they’re all very excited to realize this gives us a perfect record of queerness in the friend group.”

More laughs. Students’ faces were very open and friendly. Some were still a bit disdainful – there would be some fights he couldn’t win, some people he would never be able to win over because they had suffered too much by people just like him – but there were people in this class who didn’t visibly hate him. Gansey grinned fully.

“I expect this discovery of identity will continue: probably until I die.” (Again) “And it was challenging to have to restructure my self-perception, but a bit thrilling, too. I thank you all for sharing so much of yourselves with me. I hope I can go forward in this life and take advantage of my outrageous privilege to do right by you.”

He glanced over at the professor, who looked rather stoic, but nodded once, eyes shining in something that looked a little like surprise and a little more like pride.

Gansey looked back to the class and nodded. “Thank you.”

He hoped he could answer questions – from the class and from himself – whenever they came.

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[theboywhocriedbooks]

Like a Love Story by Abdi Nazemian

[Goodreads]

It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

Reza is an Iranian boy who has just moved to the city with his mother to live with his stepfather and stepbrother. He's terrified that someone will guess the truth he can barely acknowledge about himself. Reza knows he's gay, but all he knows of gay life are the media's images of men dying of AIDS.

Judy is an aspiring fashion designer who worships her uncle Stephen, a gay man with AIDS who devotes his time to activism as a member of ACT UP. Judy has never imagined finding romance...until she falls for Reza and they start dating.

Art is Judy's best friend, their school's only out and proud teen. He'll never be who his conservative parents want him to be, so he rebels by documenting the AIDS crisis through his photographs.

As Reza and Art grow closer, Reza struggles to find a way out of his deception that won't break Judy's heart--and destroy the most meaningful friendship he's ever known.

Thoughts:

Spoiler-Free Thoughts:

This was a book that I instantly became excited for when I learned what it was about. It discusses queer love, HIV/AIDS, NYC, the late 80’s, and those are all right up my alley. I’ve personally spent a lot of time educating myself about this history, be it in classes such as the one I took that focused on QPoC and HIV/AIDS specifically, or online, so you can say I’m pretty invested. I even wrote my own short story that focuses on similar themes (more on that some other time). Those parts of this book were so great, to an extent. One of my favorite historical moments is the St Patrick's Cathedral protest in the late 80’s, the die-in, where an individual can be heard screaming ‘You’re killing us!” and that made it into this book. So many other important historical moments made it into this book and I think that is its strongest aspect. 

I was also excited about this book because it discusses this topic AND is by a person of color, an Iranian American specifically and one of the main characters is Iranian American as well. I felt like, ‘who better to explore themes of love and friendship during this time than someone who was alive during that time and also is a person of color’, aka, a voice I don’t hear enough of when discussing this topic. So much of this book is important! The queer Iranian representation, the queer youth rep during this time in history, queer sex + safe sex, the iconic activism, and even just some of the general references. I respect this book for that alone, for attempting to tackle it all and doing some of it very well.

Unfortunately, I had a lot of problems throughout the book. I know one or two might be very biased and personal things, but I know there are some I would like others to know or talk about. This includes: love triangle/melodrama?, general pacing, Madonna, the white characters, cis-normativity, privilege, the pov’s, and more. I will discuss that below, so run to read the book (if you want) or continue to read my spoiler-ful thoughts!

Spoiler-ful Thoughts:

I feel like some of what I have to say might be controversial so bear with me. For context, I am a young queer Mexican-American writer from Los Angeles, and that’s where I’m coming from with this, identity wise.

I was so stoked to hear this history told in a PoC perspective but aside from the author being of color, I don’t actually think I got a PoC perspective??? Let me break that down. First of all, the story is a multi-pov that alternates each chapter from Reza, Art, and Judy. Realistically, 1/3 of the story is told from the Iranian American character’s eyes. Then the other two are white characters. That itself is where I began being a little iffy (because, again, I was excited about a young PoC pov on this topic) but I was open, especially because I enjoyed them all in the beginning. I just didn’t understand why we needed a straight ally’s point of view? Overall her arc fell flat, aside from the cute moments of fashion design or that moment with Reza’s brother surprisingly. I would have been okay/would have preferred if it was just Reza and Art’s pov though.

In relation to Judy, the whole romance between her and Reza and then Reza and Art was so overblown and unnecessary. Reza didn’t need to date her, though that is a valid and relatable gay teen feels. I wish it ended in that “oh!!! you’re gay, wait!! lol let’s be friends then!” thing. Instead, she’s in love with him for half the book, super pushy with sex and gets extremely upset with Art for… liking Reza, and then you don’t ‘see’ her much throughout the rest of the novel anyway? It just felt so unnecessary, and so love-triangle-y. I did really like Art’s “you don’t understand how it is to like someone and be gay” speech cos felt valid to gay teen vibes, but that could have just been said in a way less dramatic argument? It really made no sense to me.

Before we leave Judy, lets touch on privilege, specifically white privilege and class privilege. Reza’s family, was once poor but now filthy rich. Art’s family, filthy rich and white. Judy’s family, allegedly shown to not be ‘rich’ by the two lines that say “my friends’ rich parents gifted us that cos we’re not as rich as my rich friends” and yet there is really no discussion on that any deeper than that. Like why are her parents not shown working, her mother especially? And her uncle? He lives alone in an apartment in the upper east side or whatever, and doesn’t work anymore? I might have missed that but I shouldn’t be able to just ‘miss that.’ Like, how did they pay to go to PARIS. It just didn’t at all feel like a story I could relate to or one that this history could relate to entirely. Like, even them having a whole ass wake/party thing for her uncle in a night club? Most people who died of AIDS complications didn’t get that, especially not ones who aren’t from ‘not-rich-families’. It was subtle and yet the smell of privilege was everywhere.

Then even Art and Reza’s relationship was also weird? It was forbidden then it immediately wasn’t and they were in love, due to one or two time jumps that really did not help to build their relationship at all. Okay though, some teens love easily, especially gay teens who don’t know many other gay teens so it could slide? Then, however, there is this really real and valid fear ingrained in Reza regarding AIDS and gay sex. He is terrified, and I loved (and hurt) for how terrified he was because it felt reasonable. What I didn’t love was, knowing this, Art was also super pushy sexually? Do you realize he, at multiple times, tried to pressure Reza into sex and once even got naked and pushed his body against him? Doing this after full well knowing how uncomfortable Reza was? No, thank you. From the author’s note in the book, I felt like MAYBE this could have been intentional and not meant to be an extremely positive? While that could be a stretch, it also doesn’t at all criticize or directly address this toxic behavior so boop.

This brings me back to not feeling like I get a QPoC perspective. Reza is our main queer person of color, and really the only prominent one (Jimmy was a rather flat character). Yet, everything else revolves around whiteness. I already addressed Judy taking up space as a narrator. Then there is Art, the super queer activist teen. He is mostly where Reza learns all the queer things from, and he is mostly the perspective where we see the queer action/activism from. Then, who is the elder HE learned everything from? Stephen, the gay white poz uncle of Judy. THEN, who do they frame EVERYTHING around? Madonna, the straight white woman. 

Sure we hear about Stephan’s deceased Latino boyfriend and, as I said, Jimmy didn’t have much character to him aside from wearing a fur coat, saying “my black ass,” and helping move Stephan’s character along. He also has one of the few lines that directly addressed qpoc, where he says qpoc are disproportionally affected by AIDS but no one is talking about it. Ironic. It almost rarely addressed PoC throughout the rest of the novel. Heck, it almost never addressed trans characters either. What about the qpoc and trans woc who were foundational to queer rights movements that take place before this book? Sure he name drops Marsha P. Johnson, in passing, on the last page of this 400 page book, but why not mention them in depth even in one section?

Someone asked me, why does the author HAVE to do all of this. Why do they have to representing everyone, like Black trans women. Isn’t that unfair? My answer is no, it’s not unfair in situations like this. This author isn’t writing just a casual romance/friendship story. No, he is heavily touching on so much literal queer history and yet leaving out so many key players that are so often left out because of white-washing that happens in history. He didn’t even have to name these people, but just addressing that they are there as a community. Instead we get two or three throwaway lines about Ball culture after they “went to a ball that one time,” a random line from Jimmy, and a Marsha P. Johnson name drop at the end. It is honestly disappointing. 

Even framing everything in the words of Madonna was a bit much for me. Sure, I know of her history and importance to queers so this is one of the more biased parts of this review. I just don’t think we needed several references to her every other page. I then screamed when, not only did we time jump like 20+ years (gays don’t do math, sorry) and the last quote is Lady Gaga! Oh, my god. I won’t linger on the white popstar allies because it’s not worth it. In regards to that time jump, though. It felt unnecessary as well, just trying to tie it all up with a bow. It’s reference to Pulse seemed random, and honestly felt a bit cheap, but so did lots of the things I’ve referenced. 

Lastly, why did Art abruptly lick Reza’s lips out of nowhere, or when he was angry it was shown by saying “ and his brow sweats”? Anyway, I’m bummed out. I haven’t been reading as much this year or writing reviews but here I am, writing a novel-sized review basically dragging this book. I liked it enough to finish, and I think it’s important. I know some queer kids reading this will love it and learn from it but I just couldn’t help but realize that right under the surface, this book was sort of a let-down.

Thanks if you read all of this, and also sorry at the same time. Share your thoughts!

[voxofthevoid]

Idk if your blog is the place for this discussion, and I know it's missing the point that trans people had made (but I dont want to speak for them) - from my perspective rule!63 for only one character in m/m ships is inherently homophobic. Changing one character to Fem is forcing a heteronormative structure on gay pairings. As a gay person, I see enough straight pairings, why do this in m/m fics?? If you're exploring discussions around gender, try making both rule 63 otherwise that's an excuse.

(Sorry about the late response - been a busy week(s) and the topic required some thought.)

Not gonna lie, I was very confused when I first saw this ask before I realized it was prompted by this post I reblogged. I’m not sure this blog is a place for this discussion either, at least in terms of visibility. This isn’t a discourse blog or any sort of discussion-oriented one, just my personal trashfire. All I can give you is my view on this.

Addressing the trans perspective first - I can’t speak for every trans person out there, no one can, but my perspective as a transmasc guy is that rule!63 has a place in fandom that’s very different from that occupied by trans narratives. Writing a cis male character as cis female or vice verse isn’t even comparable to writing a trans narrative. The way gender is conceptualized is these two cases are poles apart, and the you can potentially explore gender dynamics is also different. One cannot be replaced by the other, and that doesn’t mean rule!63 has to be chucked out the window while we focus solely on trans stories either.

Because as a trans person, I can tell you that 99% of the time, I stay the fuck away from trans narratives, whether or not they’re written by fellow trans folks. It hits too close to home and is usually very triggering. The 1% of time is an exception and even then, it takes a lot out of me. And I’ve trawled around tumblr enough to know that I’m not the only trans person who feels this way. Rule!63, with its cis main characters is a wholly different thing.

Now, onto your claim that Rule!63-ing just one character in a m/m pairing is inherently homophobic:

I disagree.

To start with, a good amount of m/m content in fanfic are of non-canon pairings. Which means the gay representation already doesn’t exist. Fanfic isn’t representation - it’s fans compensating for lack of representation and combining it with subtext or just generally playing around with sacred canon for any number of reasons. And just as some fans choose to ship male characters who’re canonically straight/unconfirmed together, some fans will ship the same male characters with other female characters. Neither one is more or less valid than the other.

The same way people are drawn to particular ships, they’re drawn to particular characters. And a huge part of fandom is made up of women - queer, straight, cis, trans. They might want to explore their existence in relation to their favorite character(s), and sometimes, they may do this using Rule!63. 

This is by no means the only reason a writer would rule!63 a guy and ship him-turned-her with another guy. And all these writers aren’t necessarily women either. It’s not like we know the gender of an author just from reading the content of a story. The above example was just one possibility that came to mind when you said this sort of Rule!63 is inherently homophobic. I’m a straight trans guy (clarifying because this is tumblr - I identify as a man and am attracted to women), but the stories I write are of gay and bi men, because exploring masculinity is more comfortable for me than exploring femininity, for obvious reasons. Point is, my fics reflect neither my gender (trans man) nor my sexuality (heterosexual).

You see the issue in trying to suss out motivations through fictional content? And this is just a mild example.

I understand wanting to see more queer content. I’m in the same boat. But the solution to that isn’t blaming Rule!63 writers. Use filters generously to blacklist content you don’t want to see. Either create or otherwise promote the kind of content you do want to see.

Because no, changing one half of a fictional m/m ship to female isn’t enforcing heteronormativity on gay characters. The gay rep didn’t exist in the first place. I’d argue that “ukefication” is closer in line to viewing male same-sex relationships through a heterosexual lens. A writer changing a male character to female is just playing in their fanon sandbox, as is their right.

It’s their story. They can do whatever they want.

I’m not saying there are no Rule!63-ed straight stories written because the writer is homophobic. It’s likely. People come in all flavors, some of them shitty. I don’t see why a m/m pairing would appeal to a homophobe in the first place, but I’ve also trawled around the internet often enough to see that people might support queer characters in fic, then turn around and be bigoted towards actual lgbtq+ people.

But the accusation that it’s inherently homophobic is in no way substantiated.

I do think it’s different when we’re dealing with a pairing that’s canonically m/m.Then, you have actual gay representation, and changing one of those characters into cis women would offend a lot of people and for good reason. My last fandom and ship revolved around a canon gay couple - Viktor and Yuuri from Yuri on Ice. Most wrote them as cis men, some wrote both as cis women, others wrote one/both as trans characters. Rule!63 for just one was rare, and the few times I saw it, I noped the fuck out. My current ship is non-canon (let’s not go into the subtext and tropes and marvel’s bs). At the end of the day, Steve and Bucky aren’t gay representation because that’s up to Marvel, and we know what they did. I’ve seen fics that portray them with a wide variety of genders and sexualities, and some of them show them as a straight couple. Unlike with Yuri on Ice, these stories don’t seem offensive to me. I may or may not engage with them, but the content alone is harmless.

(Anyone wants to add to this, feel free. As I said, I’m not a discourse blog, and these are my musings, not the gospel. Different people will view this issue differently. But do be civil.)

[capitainecorbeau]

Yesterday I met with some people I’m probably gonna play ttrpg with (if we can all agree on a date and time), and among them there’s this woman who’s really nice and cool and we’re hitting it off pretty well. We went back home together (she lives right next to me, what are the odds), and we started talking about feminine gender roles and the pressure that comes with it.

She told me she was really happy and relieved when she saw me wearing shorts with unshaven legs, because she doesn’t shave either and she’s always a bit scared when meeting new people, but since I broke the ice on the subject she’s now feeling more confident and won’t be hinding her legs in this group anymore, and. It’s kinda bittersweet because, on the one hand I am genuinely happy that I helped her feel more comfortable expressing herself (that’s one of the reasons why I refuse to hide my unshaven legs anymore), but on the other hand, it was framed as me being a woman defying gender roles and I’m not woman. And I didn’t dare tell her, because everytime I connect with a (cis) woman about how shitty the pressure of feminity is and how we want none of that, I feel like a... traitor ? I guess ? For not “sticking” with being a woman.

(under the cut because that got long)

But after that I reflecting on all that, and it’s wrong. Me being afab doesn’t make me inherently closer to women or womanhood.I’m not a woman and I’ve never been one, I was just forced into that label without my consent, and only ended up begrudgingly adopting it for a while because I thought there was no alternative.

And the thing is, cis women (or more exactly, cis, white, straight, abled, dyadic, thin women) are are held up as THE women holding the true womanhood experiences, and evryone else is compared to them and their experiences in order to decide whether or not they truly are women or not. But those standards are cissexist, transphobic, transmisogynistic (and racist, homophobic etc etc), and just straight up terf rethoric. And it ends up forcefully labelling people as women when they’re not, and violently denying the womanhood of other women, because their experiences are vastly different. But that’s the thing, women’s experiences are vastly different, the myth that there are a set of experience that hold true for all women is a myth. like, they all have violence directed at them for being women, but that violence manifest itself and vastly different ways, to vastly different degrees.

And that’s why the whole “afab nb people/trans men are just women with internalized misogyny” is such bullshit. Like, they don’t specify afab nb people, but somehow I’ve never seen that directed at transfeminine/amab nb people. It’s ridiculous, because anyone, regardless of experiences, agab, etc could technically be, a woman who doesn’t want to accept it because of internalized misogyny. But it’s only ever directed at afab people, because cis women are considered the The True Women, and so every similar exeprience that afab people share with them are regarded as proof that they really are, in fact, women, while simultaneously used to argue that trans women aren’t really women because they don’t share True Womanhood Experiences.

And that kinda bullshit reasoning is everywhere, and one of the main reasons why I’m wary of most feminist spaces. Because a lot of them don’t seem to have reached the conclusion that women are diverse, and therefore have diverse experience, and that there cannot be a one size fits all feminism. Or hell that finding experiences that every women is going to relate to is going to be extremely difficult, and it throws so many women under the bus. That’s why so many pieces of media are held as “feminist” when they only uplift a very specific kind of women : white, cis, straight, abled, thin, dyadic, etc.

I dunno, there are probably many people who have said all that more clearly and concisely, this is just me personally, fully realizing that. And also realizing that, me sharing experiences with (cis) women doesn’t invalidate my gender. it doesn’t make me a self hating woman. My being afab doesn’t make me inherently closer to womanhood than people who aren’t. I can stand in solidarity with women, and even sometimes share their experiences, without being one myself. And finally understanding that has been a huge relief, because while I know that the “nb=internalized misogyny” rethoric is bullshit, it’s still been getting to me. But I finally see now, that I’m not a woman who decided to stop being one to avoid misogyny (because, shock of shock, I do still face misogyny ! Or at least sexism, or just being shat on by the patriarchy because I’m not a cis man). I never was a woman. My being afab doesn’t automatically make me a woman. My thinking I was one doesn’t mean it was true.

[thedeadflag]

what's your take on nb and butch lesbians hcing male characters as trans women? men are closer to how i present (as a nb butch) and so that's generally why i'll say a canonically male character is a lesbian, but i'm also afab and recognize how that makes it easier for me to present as a lesbian, nb or otherwise, and don't want to continue doing this/making jokes about it if it's disrespectful. also, if this ask is a bother, feel free to ignore it--i totally understand this isn't like, your job.

If we’re talking a trans woman butch lesbian, then sure. As a trans woman, she’s trustworthy, and if she feels a canon male character’s worthy of headcanoning as a trans woman, she’s probably got her reasons. Doesn’t mean someone who isn’t a trans woman should necessarily piggyback on that, because they wouldn’t be doing so with an informed perspective, not unless there’s a broader pattern of trans women HCing the character as a trans woman.

If we’re talking someone assigned female at birth, then I would say that this is being done for the wrong reasons. If you ID more with a male character, that’s perfectly alright, but there’s no need to rope trans women into it. You could just leave them as men. 

If it’s just about presentation, change the way female characters present accordingly. Like, I’m confused how that’s not the solution that immediately comes to mind. I don’t understand how a person can say they like a way a guy character looks, and come to the conclusion that they’ll just make him a trans woman so they can see themselves in the character better. I don’t get how the first impulse is to equate trans women with cis men, and not make a shift in presentation/expression of an existing woman character. Or, I DO get how it can happen, because cissexism makes these sort of decisions so rooted in common sense and instinct that people don’t even think twice about them. It becomes the easy solution, because of course a person will jump to HCing a man as a trans woman due to gender-related expression/presentation when they connect trans women with men, or at least overwhelmingly more with men than with other women. 

If you absolutely have to have the character be a woman for whatever reason, I’d honestly prefer you rock a genderbend/cisswap. At least then you wouldn’t be directly equating trans women with cis men, even if similar cissexist underpinnings would be guiding the alteration. Still transphobic, but nothing that could pretend to masquerade as trans-positivity like trans HCs often are positioned as.

And this is all, of course, assuming the shift of the character into a woman has some manner of good faith behind it, even if misguided and flawed. I will say that I am a little more cautious and suspicious when it comes to instances like this because I’ve seen similar issues with certain cis wlw and afab NB folks using trans women’s bodies as vehicles for a variety of fantasies and introspection-avoidance and whatnot via the G!P (girl penis) trope in fan works. 

There’s a distressingly common pattern of trans women being positioned in deeply cissexist ways that…to simplify maybe to the point of some inaccuracy, but I’ve already written tomes on this matter already, I won’t retread those tracks…cast us as men who are conditionally treated as women. 

There’s a lot of cis wlw struggling with comp het who use us in their erotica as the stand in for the male lover, and fill us with all the romanticized and eroticized toxic masculinity, letting us put on the illusion of womanhood until the sexual content hits, and then we’re the ‘hot alpha stud’ reaming into the cis wlw character with our over-sized engorged penises, often pumping them full of cum (and also quite often getting them pregnant). That ticks a lot of boxes when it comes to unprocessed heteronormativity, compulsory heterosexuality, cissexism, etc. and when that baggage can be draining to deal with, it’s an easier sell for folks to indulge in the thrill of taboo and fulfilling a twisted form of the conditioning they were give, especially if they’ve got a strict and homophobic religious upbringing.

Related to the above, there’s a lot of trans men and afab NB folks who see us as some kind of ideal midway point between men and women. Where we get to exist as women, at least in bearing the status of women and mental image of some famous actress or character, but appearing (in some physical ways, at least, largely bone structure and genitals), behaving, and functioning as men. They have a familiar physical form they can see themselves in, but with a penis tacked on as a means of distancing the character from womanhood and sources of dysphoria, to make them the ‘best of both worlds’ in a sense.

I shouldn’t have to explain to you how deeply cissexist and transmisogynistic these sort of instances are, or how harmful it is to be viewed through such a fetishistic lens, and to be represented in such a harmful and inauthentic way. I’ll admit, I usually come across cis butch lesbians upset at the mere notion  of having their butchness equated with maleness, who hate when butch lesbians are represented as essentially a man. Like the common critique goes, there’s no “man” of the relationship between two women…with lesbians especially, the point is that they’re both women or woman-aligned, and neither are men. And when people primarily HC canon men as trans women, and rarely (if ever) HC canon women as trans women, they’re doing that exact thing, positioning us as men, equating us to men in everything but the most surface-level messaging.

And that sort of thing might not always be behind the kind of trans headcanons you’re describing. But it’s a persistent theme behind people HCing canon men as trans women, and being a non-trans woman butch lesbian doesn’t eliminate those issues from being in play. There are reasons why people jump to the decisions they make when it comes to our representation. Even if it might seem innocuous to you or others, there are currents underneath our consciousnesses that pull people in certain directions when faced with multiple ways to accomplish their goals. Cissexism is one that nearly everyone struggles with mightily, or has struggled with mightily in the past prior to working at unlearning it. Transmisogyny is one that most folks assigned female at birth don’t really consider at all until prompted with critique relating to it.

Either way, there’s no harm in trying to get a handle on why that urge arises to HC men as trans women, particularly under the reasoning you provided. And while you and others who have had similar motivations in the past are putting in the work,  maybe focus on HCing canon women as trans women if you ever feel the urge for a trans woman HC

[some-jw-things]

(For the Writing Prompt) Two young Witness women that have been extremely close for years become a little more than just friends. However, when one of them confesses they want to leave the cult, it drives the other away. After a long time, the one in the cult decides she finally wants to leave, and reconnect with her “friend.” (Romance perhaps?)

Jo laughed so hard she ended up choking on her root beerfloat, some of the drink sloshing out of the glass onto her shirt. “Diana! I’mstill in my service clothes, you can’t saythings like that! Don’t make me laugh!”

“How can I resist when it’s so easy though?” she grinned.“Here, let me help.” She tore a paper towel off the roll on her counter andused it to dab at the spot on her friend’s blouse. Jo’s breath hitched at thesudden proximity, at the way her friend was holding her, at the way she couldsmell Diana’s shampoo, the clean, soft scent of her.

Diana met her eyes curiously, face open and trusting andthen suddenly understanding, suddenly filled with a desire that matched hersexactly, eyes going dark with an obvious intent.

And then suddenly they were kissing, lips moving againsteach other, soft and loving and finally.Finally, after so many years of waiting, of dancing around each other, ofpretending this wasn’t everything they ever wanted. Of pretending that ‘bestfriends’ was good enough. That they could be content with that, that thesituation wasn’t intolerable, that every cell of their beings didn’t scream atthe distance they were forced to keep.

Their kiss was like finding water in the desert. It was foodto one who had been so long denied. It was everything.

It was inevitable.

Jo threaded her hands into Diana’s hair like she had alwayswanted to and cupped the other woman’s head, pulling her closer. Diana obliged,deepening the kiss, responding with growing hunger. Her hands roamed over Jo’slean body and the gentle slowness they had started with was melting intodesperate passion, into a need that had been too long ignored.

Jo’s tongue teased at her mouth and Diana gasped,snapping back to reality. She stepped back, breaking off all contact. “We can’tdo this,” she said, still breathless. “It’s a sin.”

Jo held her gaze steadily, eyes searing. “I don’t care.”

“No. No, we can’t do this. Jehovah is watching! We’ll getdisfellowshipped!”

“I don’t care,” Jo repeated.

“What do you mean, you don’t care? We could loseeverything!”

“We’re going to anyway, Diana!” she said. “You can’t be gayand be a Witness, it’s not allowed. We’re going to get kicked out no matterwhat. We’re going to get shunned no matter what. It’s just a matter of time.”

“No it’s not. Nobody has to know—“

“Diana,” she said. “I can’t go on living this way. I can’tkeep pretending to be something that I’m not.”

“You make it sound like we’re lying,” she said. “It’s not asin to avoid stumbling anyone. As long as we keep this to ourselves and don’tact on anything, we can still get into Paradise. We just—we just to try to—“

“Change?”

“Ignore it,” she said. “Everyone has sinful desires. We havea choice whether we act on them or not.”

“Ignoring a problem and covering it up doesn’t make it goaway. Pretending I’m straight doesn’t make me any less of a… doesn’t make meany less gay,” she said. “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve read all theliterature. I’ve prayed for months, for years.I’ve talked to the elders about it! I just—I can’t.”

A pit of cold dread settled in Diana’s stomach. “What do youmean?”

Jo took a breath. “I love you.”

Silence hung in the air for a long, painful moment.

“And if the god of love hates me for loving you, then Ican’t serve him anymore.”

“Jehovah doesn’t hate you,” she said.

“No, of course not. He just hates that fundamental aspect ofwho I am and doesn’t want me to find love in my life,” she said dryly.

“We can change. 1 Corinthians 6:11 says ‘that is what someof you were. But you have been washedclean—‘”

“I know what the verse says,” she snapped. “I don’t need tobe fixed, Diana, and neither do you.I’ve tried everything they said to try for years, and nothing’s worked. Itcan’t be done. I still love you, and I’m not going to stop loving you.” Hervoice dropped to something much quieter, more fragile. “And I think you love metoo.”

Diana looked up at her sharply, too shocked to respond for amoment. Then she found her voice, shaky and unsteady, but with an edge ofdetermination.

“Get out of my house.”

They made the announcement that Thursday night.

“Josefina Vasquez is no longer one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

Diana had told the elders everything. Two judicial committeehearings had immediately been called. Diana plead repentance and was publiclyreproved. Shamed, as Jo had put it. She was publicly shamed.

Jo had walked into the hearing with her head held high andproudly disassociated herself. Her hands had trembled. She had clasped thembehind her back so the elders wouldn’t see.

Now she sat in the very back, deserted, last row. She wasstill as a statue, her face carved out of stone. She was untouched. Immovable,unassailable.

She saw her mother shaking slightly, a few rows up. Herfather took her hands in his tenderly. Jo could see him whispering something toher.

Diana was on the other side of the Hall, the picture ofconstrained fury. A tear snuck out of her eye, and she swiped it away angrily.

The elder called for the song to begin, and everyone stoodup. Except Jo. Off-key, overly-quiet singing drifted through the air. It wassuffocating.

They had just started the second verse when Jo stood up andwalked out.

She was never coming back. Not for anything. She lovedDiana, but she had to love herself, too.

Diana came home from the meeting to an empty, darkapartment. At twenty-three, she lived on her own now. It was a recent change.She’d had to stop pioneering due to work, and so her father had stopped supportingher. She was an adult, after all. She had always known what the arrangementwould be: either she regular pioneered after high school, or she would bepaying her father rent.

She had thought that if she was going to be paying renteither way, she may as well get some privacy and a place of her own. Now,though, her whole world was ending, she had never felt so alone in her life,and all she wanted was for her dad to hug her and tell her everything would bealright.

She wanted hot cocoa and her cat that had died three yearsago and to see her disfellowshipped mom again. She wanted her parents, laughingand telling jokes in the kitchen while Mom made dinner. She wanted Jo stayingover for the night, whispering in her ear and making her laugh until shewheezed; that giddy, ecstatic feeling in her chest that she got when thingswere so sweetly perfect with her best friend. Warmth that would bloom in herchest and stay there for hours afterwards, sometimes days, making Diana lay inbed at night with a smile on her face, replaying their conversations andpretending she wasn’t blushing. She wanted to be sixteen again. She wanted togo back to when she hadn’t realized what it all meant. She wanted to go back towhen she was blissfully love-drunk and ignorant, before the longing had turned bittersweetand painful.

Her best friend. Her love. She had admitted it years ago.She was in love with Josefina Vasquez. Hopelessly, irreversibly. And there wasn’ta single thing she could do about it.

Now she would never see her again.

She wondered what Jo would do, now. She had no friendsoutside the congregation. Her family had cut her off even before theannouncement was made. She had no support system, absolutely no one to turn to.

Knowing Jo, though, the woman would probably say she didn’tneed one and try to power through on her own. She would only ask for help afterabsolutely exhausting every other option. Hopefully she wouldn’t swallow herpride too late.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that at all.

No. No. Diana wasn’t gonna think like that. She was going tothink positive. Jo would—If anyone could have ever been called nontraditional,then it was Jo.

She thought of the way her friend’s eyes sparkled when shewas passionate about something, the way her hands never stopped moving and sheseemed to speak with her whole body. She thought about Jo bubbling over inexcitement, infodumping on her special interests. She thought about the pang oflonging and sadness in her voice whenever college was brought up, the way shewould taper off and become quiet afterwards and break Diana’s heart.

Maybe she would go, now. Major in molecular chemistry likeshe had always wanted to. Diana had listened to her talk aboutoxidation-reduction reactions enough that she felt she could teach a course onit. Once, she had spoken for an hour and a half about the absolutely fascinating differences between transfat and cis fat molecules. Diana had interrupted every now and then to make acrappy pun.

It made her heart ache to see Jo so happy, so passionateabout something. She had been beautiful then. The most beautiful person Dianahad ever seen.

She knew she would never meet someone as extraordinary asher ever again. Josefina Vasquez had blown into her life at the age of fourteenwith all the force of a whirlwind, and Diana hadn’t caught her breath since.

Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed.

Diana was doing street witnessing one day and saw Jo walk byacross the street, hand in hand with some blonde girl who looked way too boringfor her and probably had no clue how impossibly lucky she was.

Sister McMullin didn’t notice and kept talking about thefulfillment of prophecies or something. Diana barely registered it, noddingalong when it seemed appropriate. There was a droning hum in her ears. She feltlike screaming, throwing things and tearing her own hair out.

She had been preparing for the end of the world her entirelife but suddenly she wasn’t ready. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

There was a young man at the Hall. His name was David. Hewas a ministerial servant, working on becoming an elder, and he loved football.

He ended up in the same car group as Diana for servicealmost every time she went out. She knew for a fact it wasn’t a coincidence. Hisfather was in charge of making the groups, after all.

Diana had started pioneering again. She had quit her job andtaken a lower-paying one with less hours. She had thrown herself headlong intoher faith without a second thought and wasn’t looking back.

She wasn’t going to think about it.

David talked to her incessantly, seeming to never notice howuninterested she was. There was nothing wrong with David. He thought he wasdoing her a favor by spending time with her, like his mere presence was a giftfrom God himself, but still. Every other Witness boy was pretty much worse.

There was nothing wrong with David, except for the fact thathe wasn’t Jo.

When he asked her out, she said yes anyway.

It had been one year, three months, and nine days sinceDiana had last seen Jo.

She stood in front of the mirrors in the Kingdom Hall bathrooms.Her dress was beautiful. The veil was gorgeous. Her dark curls were styledimmaculately, her makeup done by a professional. Her eyes were dead andlifeless.

Her mother hadn’t been invited to the wedding, of course.She was standing alone in the bathroom, the only figure the mirror showed.

She was going to walk out that door and go into the adjacentroom and then another room and take her father’s arm. He was going to walk herdown the aisle and give her away to David. Brother Fonseca would talk about loveand fidelity and a threefold cord, and Diana would swear her subservience to aman she couldn’t care less about.

It was over. It really was over. This was her life, and thiswas all she would ever get.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back downquickly. She steeled herself, turning her face into a mask of indifference.

She could do this.

She took a deep breath and walked out the door.

“—To love and to cherish and to deeply respect?” BrotherFonseca asked.

“I—” Diana started. Her eyes darted around the Hall, wideand panicked. Her hands were sweating on the bouquet.

“Diana?” Brother Fonseca prompted gently.

“No,” she breathed out. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t. I’msorry.”

She tossed the bouquet down right on the platform and walkedstraight off the center of the stage, the entire Hall murmuring and Davidlooking stricken, but not surprised.

Her face burned and she broke into a half-jog. She pushedpast the doors and ran into her car, swearing for the first time in her lifewhen she couldn’t get the key in, hands shaking too much. She tried again withthe same result. She slammed her arms into the steering wheel and shouted.

She took a deep, unsteady breath. She saw her dad burst outof the Hall, coming towards her rapidly. An eerie sense of calm descended onher.

She picked up the key and turned the car on. She didn’t lookat her dad as she drove away.

She showed up outside Jo’s door twenty-three minutes later.

At least, it had been Jo’s door a year ago. What if shemoved? What if she moved in with the horrible blonde girl? What if it was alltoo late and Diana had missed her chance, had blown it with the best thing thathad ever happened to her?

She was frozen on the doorstep, unable to even knock. Comeon. She did this every day, literally. Just knock on the door, ask for a fewminutes to talk, to explain, she could—

The door opened without her touching it.

Jo stood there in her pajamas, long hair messy from sleep.Her eyes widened.

“Jo,” Diana breathed, voice broken. “Jo, I’m so sorry. I-Imessed up. I don’t know—”

Jo shushed her and pulled her in gently for the best, mosttender kiss of Diana’s life. She felt everything, all at once; euphoric reliefand joy and the soul-crushing weight of the past wasted year. One of them madesome horrible, choked sound. Diana thought it was her.

Jo pulled back and took both of her hands. She led her inside.

The door clicked shut behind them.

[bjro233]

The Life of a Gay Man and His Need To Prove It

#1 The “Gay Gene”

               Although it has only been found in males, a linkage to males and homosexuality has been discovered by Dean Hamer and colleagues. On X chromosomes there is an unidentified gene that these scientists have named Xq28, which they relate directly to homosexuality. It’s a very controversial theory but ultimately purposes so many answers.            

#2 Evidence is Mounting for Homosexual Men

               “In 1993, genetic variations in a region on the X chromosome in men were linked to whether they were heterosexual or homosexual, and in 1995, a region on chromosome 8 was identified.” says Andy Coghlan from thenewscientist.com. This just proves that no, gay men don’t just wake up one morning and say “Hey, I wanna try dick today.”

#3 The Third Gender: Muxes

              In southern Mexico, the Zapotec people recognize a third gender called Muxes. In our culture, they would be known as homosexual people and transgendered people. This just makes me realize that some cultures, although so old, are so ahead of their time, open-minded, and progressive. Another reason to yell @ Donald Trump, don’t build the damn wall.  

  #4 We Are Not Alone

              Listen, science isn’t the only thing that proves this theory. Look at our environment and what isn’t directly affected by or altered by humans. “Homosexual behaviour is a natural biological feature and is common among non-human animals. In at least one species – sheep – individual animals have been known to form lasting preferences for same-sex partners.” says Australias Science Channel. Fun Fact: the oldest living tortoise who was thought to be female but was actually male only mated with males. Thus showing why no babies were being born.

#5 Should We Care About Giving Reason To Being Gay?

                Of course, being gay myself, you’re faced with a lot of harassment, questioning, judgment, and bigotry. Religion really attacks you, and you’re forced to feel like an outcast and forced into a stereotype. So, given the chance and these scientific findings, it can help explain to people who don’t believe/understand. It normalizes sexuality, it lowers being/feeling like a minority. “It adds yet more evidence that sexual orientation is not a ‘lifestyle choice’. But the real significance is that it takes us one step closer to understanding the origins of one of the most fascinating and important features of human beings.” says Dean Hammer from newscientist.com.

#6 Being A Watermelon in A Sea Full of Cacti

                      One word: Grindr. If you’re a gay male, you either gagged or hid your face in shamefulness for using the app. My need to prove myself starts here, it completely drains lives of romance and relationship oriented people. It sends a message that all gay men are they same, they’re horny and only want to bone. “The mental health professionals I spoke to are seeing problematic Grindr use in their clinics. And there is little published guidance on how to help those who are struggling.” says Jack Turban with Vox.com. This app is notorious for only being used to have sex, and it’s showing and obviously causing detrimental effects on gay men.

#7 Breaking Stereotypes One Straight @ A Time

                    Growing up, I only had girlfriends. Instead of playing basketball or throwing a football at recess, after school, in college, etc... I jumped rope. I learned how to french braid, I sang and danced. I yearned for the male on male friendship, or bromance you may say. I never got it because theres a stereotype, “I don’t have a problem with gay guys, but if he hits on me its game over.” Now, I can say once straight cis men give me a shot, they realize the stupidity behind it. I always here, “I’m not gay, but you’re one of the coolest dudes.” which isn’t ideal, but it’s progress.                    

#8 Trouble in the Workplace

                     When I bring up LGBTQ issues to acquaintances, a lot of the times i’m faced with “I don’t think gay people have a lot of issues nowadays”. But we dont, thats why I feel its so important for me to prove myself, my life, and what comes along with it. The facts, the struggles, the ugly truth. “59% said that where they live, they are less likely to be afforded employment opportunities because they are part of the LGBTQ community. One in five stated that they have had difficulty when applying for positions.” says victoryinstitute.net

#9 Let’s Prove Stats Wrong!

               Statistics can be demeaning, not all the time are they helpful or good. Sadly, for the LGBTQ+ community, the stats are disheartening. For example, LGBTQ people are 5X as likely to commit suicide than heterosexual people says thetrevorproject.org. 77% of LGBTQ youth reported are depressed, have anxiety, and/or have feelings of worthlessness says hrc.org. So, to all the heterosexual people out there wondering where their “Straight month” or “Straight parade is”, you have it, 11 months out of the year because you dont have struggles like that.

#10 Trans People are Simply, People.

                  Working with white, privileged, conservative, middle-to-upper class women, i’m forced to hear a lot of what they believe and how they think and what political decision they have recently made. Now and then, obvious and not so obvious transgendered women come into the store to shop and they outwardly treat them different or question the “real gender” of the person. I ask myself why whatever is under their clothes matter so much to them. When I tell them they are a woman, and that’s all they are, they are confused and partly agitated because I didn’t give them the answer they wanted to hear. Saddening fact? In a national study, 40% of transgender adults reported having made a suicide attempt. 92% of these individuals reported having attempted suicide before the age of 25 says thetrevorproject.org. Maybe if we stop making people feel so different, and start working toward progression instead of sticking our nose where it doesnt belong, we could actually get somewhere. Proving myself, to help the Trans community.

#11 “Gay People Can’t Naturally Reproduce”

                          I want a family, I want someone to call my husband. My son or daughter, my family. I need that in my life weather it is “natural” or not. People are so pressed about the natural way of things, but they can’t see that a majority of LGBTQ people who don’t reproduce via a man and a woman, help reduce the amount of foster children.14,000 foster children are being raised by Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual foster parents says Movement Advanced Project. Just because I am a man, married to a man, with our own children doesn’t make us any less capable for raising a family. 

#12 LG(B)TQ+

                Another group of people that are drastically hated on for being themselves. Human beings can’t grasp that someone may actually be more concerned about someones personality rather than their sexual organs. According to 2013 research by the University of Pittsburgh, 15% of people did not categorize bisexuality as a legitimate sexuality, with straight men being three times as likely to think it's "not a thing." People looking at you and just thinking you’re fake or just too horny. It’s pathetic, hence another reason to prove myself, my sexuality, for the other groups in my community.

#13 You Can Be Cured With Some Treatment & Religion - Mackelmore

                     Ever since before me, for a very long time, we were taught that there are conversion treatments, that being gay was a mental disability, a deformity. There were actually shock therapy treatments and conversion camps for LGBTQ+ people, people were killed in the midst of these treatments. But heres, *tap tap* the mutha f*ucking, *tap tap* TEA! American Psychological Association undertook a thorough review of the existing research on the efficacy of conversion therapy and their report noted that there was very little  research on sexual orientation change efforts (SOCEs) and that the "results of scientifically valid research indicate that it is unlikely that individuals will be able to reduce same-sex attractions or increase other-sex sexual attractions through SOCE." says hrc.com. Today there are still states that legalize this method!! Stop this!!

#14 The Importance of PRIDE

                   This isn’t just a time for LGBTQ+ people and allies to strut down the street in cute colorful clothing. This parade we participate in is a lesson, its teaching others about what we’re trying to do. Policies, laws, and other arguments we want and need heard. During the 2000s, battles at local, state, and national levels were being fought for marriage equality. Pride parades were utilized to educate the public, generate support, and encourage lawmakers to vote in favor of LGBT rights says thegayfamilylawmaker.com. We need to educate people on the education pride parades actually do. If it wasn’t for these parades, we wouldn’t have made the progress we have today. 

#15 The Audacity!?

                 My need to prove myself may be... borderline pathetic. HOWEVER, it’s so important and necessary in today’s society. The fact that just in 1982, it was okay to openly discriminate against LGBTQ people. IN 1996, it was BANNED to marry unless it was between a man and a women. Only in 2011 was “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” finally repealed. This may sound like good news... but then BAM! THIS YEAR, President Trump banned Transgender people from being in the military.(CNN.com) Every time we feel like we’re ahead, we get knocked back down a few steps. This is why it is important, this is why it is necessary, this is why i’m doing it. 

REFERENCES

https://australiascience.tv/science-of-sexuality/

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/cross-cultural-evidence-for-the-genetics-of-homosexuality/

https://www.newscientist.com/article/2155810-what-do-the-new-gay-genes-tell-us-about-sexual-orientation/

https://www.sciencenews.org/article/genetics-dna-homosexuality-gay-orientation-attractiveness-straight

https://www.sciencemag.org/news/2018/10/giant-study-links-dna-variants-same-sex-behavior

https://www.cnn.com/2015/06/19/us/lgbt-rights-milestones-fast-facts/index.html

https://www.vox.com/science-and-health/2018/4/4/17177058/grindr-gay-men-mental-health-psychiatrist

https://victoryinstitute.org/issue-at-a-glance-lgbtq-employment-discrimination/

https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/preventing-suicide/facts-about-suicide/#sm.00001tfv8n5yekdvsq5f6al6h6i7u

https://www.hrc.org/resources/2018-lgbtq-youth-report

https://justlists.wordpress.com/2012/01/18/familyequality/

[discyours]

Do you know why arguments about abortion are so difficult, and so polarising? Because you’re not gonna convince anybody who thinks babies are being killed with a women’s rights argument, and you’re not gonna convince anyone who thinks a fetus is a clump of cells with a baby-killing argument. If your beliefs about a fundamental part of the argument (what a fetus actually is) differ, you’re not gonna get very far. I feel like we’re hitting the same wall here with arguments about transgenderism. Can’t agree on who can be transgender, which genders are valid and how trans people should be treated if we don’t even agree on what gender IS.  I love hearing other people’s perspectives and trying to understand them, so I’m gonna try to explain a few of tumblr’s most common perspectives on gender the best I can. I might get a few things wrong, so let me know if there’s anything I need to change. Please note that none of these groups are hive minds, people in them don’t always agree and won’t always match my description here. The TERF/gendercritical perspective: First of all, let’s clarify who I’m talking about here. TERF stands for trans exclusionary radical feminist. However, that’s now considered to be a slur by a lot of them and they prefer to be called gendercritical feminists. They subscribe to second wave feminism, and are usually GNC (gender non-conforming, not conforming to typical gender roles) women.  Biological sex is a main component of gendercritical theory, and talked about more than gender. They believe biological differences between males and females are the main cause of gender inequality. Females are physically weaker than males and are the only sex that can bear children, and according to gendercritical feminists this makes them inherently oppressed. They also strongly believe sexuality is based on biological sex, not gender. So if sex decides whether you’re oppressed of privileged and gender is a non-factor, what’s gender useful for? Well, according to gendercritical feminists... nothing. If sex describes everything concrete, gender is nothing but a few social rules. And being radical feminists, they usually aren’t pleased with the gender roles that have been imposed on them. If gender = gender roles, and gender roles are bullshit, you might as well abolish gender. And that’s essentially what gendercritical feminists are aiming to do. They either do this by equating gender to sex (man = adult human male, woman = adult human female) or simply dropping gender terms altogether and just talking about males and females. Trans people are referred to by their biological sex, and treated accordingly. Trans women are still biologically male and therefore have male privilege, should not be allowed into women’s bathrooms, and are referred to with he/him pronouns. Trans men are still biologically female and are therefore oppressed.  Gender dysphoria is usually explained as the result of having gender roles imposed on you. Trans people are encouraged to accept themselves as being GNC cis people. For trans men, internalised misogyny is also a common explanation. Medical transition is seen as a mutilation, not actually changing sex, and is therefore not seen as a viable option. 

In short, gendercritical feminists believe the concept of gender to serve no useful role that isn’t already filled by biological sex.  The tucute perspective: Again, let’s clarify who I’m talking about here. Tucute generally means someone who believes gender dysphoria isn’t necessary to be trans. Tucutes rarely believe in the gender binary (two genders, man and woman), and are usually liberal feminists. In a surprising similarity to gendercritical feminists, tucutes also believe that gender roles are bullshit/that gender is a social construct. A lot of them also ideally want gender to be abolished. However, they deal with this entirely differently.  If gender is a bullshit social construct, it can really be anything you want it to. It can be an entirely subjective thing, different for everyone. For some people gender is how you relate to the world, or how you relate to yourself. It can be how you like to dress, it can be the first word that comes to mind when you look in the mirror, or it can be absolute nonsense. Turning gender into something so vague it’s impossible to grasp is one step closer to abolishing it altogether, so tucutes are happy to “make up” an infinite amount of genders. To some of them it may be an important form of self expression, to others it’s a protest. Calling yourself genderfucked/gendervoid/genderless is almost like a fuck you to anyone who’s tried to impose gender roles on you, and that’s exactly what they want.  Transgender means someone is a different gender than the one they were assigned at birth, so if anyone can choose to be a different gender, anyone can be trans. Dysphoric trans people are (usually) acknowledged and supported by tucutes. The main tucute theory on what causes gender dysphoria is transphobia/cissexist ideas of how people of a certain gender should look. Medical transition is (usually) supported, but people are encouraged to accept that how you look has nothing to do with your gender. Non-dysphoric people should also be allowed to medically transition according to most tucutes. There are no concerns of it causing dysphoria, since cissexism is the alleged cause.  In short, tucutes believe gender is something everyone experiences differently. The only rule is that there are no rules.  The truscum/transmedicalist perspective: Transmedicalism is defined as the belief that gender dysphoria is a medical condition, and that it’s a necessary part of being trans. Truscum is a term referring to people who hold transmedicalist beliefs, it originated as a slur but has been reclaimed. Conservatives tend to be more drawn to transmedicalism than the other two options here, but transmedicalists are all over the political spectrum. Most truscum are trans.  Truscum believe that gender and sex are connected, and that both are biological. They believe gender is determined by the way your brain is structured. When truscum say “gender”, they really mean “brain sex”. Physical sex and brain sex are meant to match up, and truscum believe that gender dysphoria occurs when they don’t. This makes gender dysphoria a neurological condition. The connection between sex and gender is still very important to truscum whose sex and gender don’t match up (trans people). Since changing your sex characteristics (medically transitioning) isn’t readily available to everyone, changing the gender you are perceived as (socially transitioning) is the closest some people can get. Getting referred to with pronouns that match up with your gender (which in turn is connected to your desired sex) can help alleviate dysphoria, even if nothing about your physical sex changes. Because of this, a lot of truscum are against making everything gender-neutral/”abolishing gender”. Gender (sex) dysphoria would continue to exist, with no social crutch to lean on to make it any better.  Truscum are divided on the possibility of nonbinary brains/nonbinary dysphoria, and as a result are divided on whether or not to support nonbinary genders. Truscum support medical transition as the best (currently available) way to deal with gender dysphoria. They are against non dysphoric people medically transitioning, partially because it takes up medically necessary resources for non-medical purposes, and partially because they believe it will cause dysphoria.  In short, truscum believe gender is biologically determined and connected to sex. They believe you can’t choose your gender and as a result, that you can’t choose to be trans.  So we all fundamentally disagree. We’ve established that. But maybe, just maybe, if we can try to understand each other’s perspectives we can stop it with the suicide baiting and focus on more important things, like figuring out how to fucking co-exist? There’s ways to acknowledge the importance of biological sex without making trans people want to kill themselves. There’s ways to say “fuck you” to gender roles without taking medical care away from dysphoric trans people. There’s ways to allow for self expression without confusing it with social transition.  Empathy is great, please give it a shot.