#sorry i became a man and sorry i love being a man and having masculinity and loving men

[mueritos]

im glad that people r clowning on that detrans person who went viral on twitter for blaming trans people/hrt for his baldness and normal male genes, but i really hope this can at least wake up some transmasculine people, ESPECIALLY white transmasculine people.

many BIPOC transmasc people already have standards of whiteness imposed onto us, but we do not cry wolf when our genetics cause the male secondary characteristics that they do. many of us are hairy, many of us have thick and coarse hair, some of us get extremely deep voices, etc and etc. BIPOC transmascs already have to deal with the masculinization of our bodies even before HRT because many of us cannot achieve white standards of womanhood. it is just also incredibly ignorant to shed tears over normal secondary sex characteristics that everyone on HRT are informed about. Just because you have male pattern baldness, an adams apple, and a low voice doesn’t mean you suddenly lose your worth as human being. white transmascs who successfully performed white femininity and desperately still cling onto it or try to be a hairless pretty twink after HRT,,,PLEASE understand that you cannot control the way HRT reacts to your body. You cannot complain about not looking like a beautiful twink because you cannot control how your genetics and HRT will masculinize your body. Like holy fuck. 

there is definitely a time and a space for detrans people to discuss their journeys. Many of them don’t regret HRT, many of them just simply realized they don’t need to be binary passing. But when we center detrans experiences as the reason why HRT needs to be stopped, why trans people are making “serious mistakes” to their bodies...yea I dont care how much you hate yourself. You do not need to make your insecurities everybody elses problem.

I genuinely hope this makes some white transmasc people realize that its okay to look like a normal dude. Some of us feel euphoric by the male pattern baldness. Some of us love our hairy arms and legs. Some of us love being men. Some of us love loving men. Some of us love having friendships with men. There is nothing wrong with being a man. The biological essentialism of vagina=good and penis=bad is not just a gender issue, it’s a race issue as well. These ideas are inherent to whiteness; when you say you distrust all men, when you say they all deserve to die...this means ALL men...Black men, queer men, transmen, Asian men, Latino men, Indigenous men, men who are disabled, men who are GNC, lesbians who are men, butches....

Having a caution toward men or male presenting people because of patriarchy, sexism, and misogyny? Fine. Hating them, vilifying them, viewing them as inherently predatory and evil? No. Thanks for making us feel like we’re all dangerous, that definitely does nothing to the male pysche, and thanks for conveying that anyone with a vagina is inherently good.

god. destroy white ideas of gender and sexuality already. you guys are just so damn annoying. we cannot get an ounce of solidarity because of you guys.

[brujaluas]

how to speed up the connection with your future spouse

Hi, this would be a sample of what my paid readings are like and how I intend to do the readings on Patreon as well. I gave a lot of myself to this special edition, I hope you enjoy it.

pile 1 has slightly delicate subjects, so be careful when reading, I'm not very good with words and I end up being too direct. I'm sorry for anything.

everything about my paid readings and personal spells

pile 1

Right at the beginning I feel a bad energy, it even gave me back pain, you are hurting yourself a lot, it could even be physically, I'm sorry for saying this but I believe it is necessary to remove all the veils so that I can do a good drawing for you, continuing… you are hurting yourself and punishing yourself and this has been happening for a while now, it is painful and very painful, it is as if you think you deserve to go through this, you cultivate many bad habits with yourself, someone may have put this in your head or has harmed you too, I advise you to take a herbal bath, cleanse your energy spiritually, you are stuck in a painful situation, and you need to free yourself from it, I also see that you need to create greater responsibility, love It's something really beautiful, but keep your feet on the ground, evaluate people well, create greater maturity to manage your feelings and emotions, that's what you're asked to do, you have the key to your solutions, like that at the beginning, I'll be back to say again: you need to end a cycle. I know this is very difficult, it is something that requires a lot of patience and dedication and sometimes we are so exhausted that we feel like we won't make it, but you will. we will. You need to end this toxic cycle that you created with yourself, you need to do this so that true love finds you. Soon after you manage to complete this cycle, in less than two years, or even a year, you will find who you deserve. you can communicate over the internet first, some online contact, there is a vintage vibe between you, you can also like to communicate by letters, for many, I feel like it is a man, or someone with strong masculine energy, possibly, it is a foreigner, it can being from a different city or even a different country, with different habits, you may meet on a trip, or your future spouse may end up passing through the place where you live, it is a love that will teach you a lot, especially to mature your ideas and maybe even teach you some things about life, I won't deny it, there may be barriers in sight, it's not clear what it will be, but there will be some obstacles, it's as if the universe wanted to put you and your love to test so that they can be together, it could be a difference of ideas, geographically, someone in the family is opposed… things like that, but you love each other, and you have both gone through a healing process, this person went through it before, you more recently, but they are both fine, I see a bright future, very beautiful and full of joy, you waking up with a smile on your face seeing your love by your side, something like that.

Pile 2

I see you in a very happy moment, maybe you are even in a relationship with someone, I'm a little confused, unlike the other pile, this one presents excellent images at the beginning, it can also be a confirmation that your manifestation and prayers to find your true love are flowing, you can even meet in dreams and not know it, something that tells me that this connection is already activated in some way. It's beautiful, for some of you, I feel like you're older, or you have an old soul, you've been through a lot in your lives, true warriors, I'm impressed with the commitment you have to life and to you. A very beautiful and revolutionary healing happened here, or will happen very soon, I see you achieving emotional, spiritual peace, in other words, it is as if you became your best friend who is always in the stands cheering for you. I see many prosperous fruits, you can achieve a great career, some dream of being a mother or father here, I see you achieving this, you can have 2 to 4 children, I see you building a beautiful house and living with your love, what can I say? You look great, you can live in the countryside, because you want silence. you can make a lot of plans, you can move somewhere, or I see that some are living far away from their parents and after marriage they will move closer to them, your passion will make you feel a huge impulse, like seeing old friendships again, Going to places where you went as a child, with this euphoria you may end up doing things that are a little questionable, be careful with that, but even so I see the purest success here, you are learning very well to defend yourself and that is good, in the beginning The print run made it seem like you already know your future spouse, and I see that this feeling is because for some, it's an ex. you are undergoing immense progress and evolution, your future spouse is too, you are on the same level in everything, it's like it's something mirrored, there's nothing I can say, I think, just that you keep doing whatever you're doing, it's just a matter of time.

[chaoticace2005]

I think about Angel a lot. And rn I'm thinking about Angel going through a period of hypermasculinity after he rids himself of his contract with Valentino. I can't imagine that as a man from the environment he was in when he was alive, that his style is something he brought WITH HIM to Hell. Sure, his favorite color being pink isn't a new development, but I think the skimpy outfits and short skirts and cleavage showing shirts and dresses that cling a bit too tight are probably a combined product of defiance of the values his father held so dear, genuine interest in trying more feminine fashion, and Valentino forcing a certain type of image on him (whether directly or as a result of certain expectations/coming mechanism for the situations he put Angel in).

So I can imagine Angel going through this self imposed hyperfeminity to distance himself from the bad thoughts and feelings and situations, followed by hypermasculinity because after being forced to be, the idea of femininity becomes nauseating and just laced with the bad memories and sensations, followed by healing and rediscovery of what made the femininity feel good in the first place. Recontextualizing it. Finding ways he can enjoy it so that it's different from before. And maybe he never gets comfortable enough to wear certain things again, and that would be ok, too.

I have this sequence of events in my head of Angel coming down to the communal area of the hotel the day after getting rid of the contract (however he does that) wearing black sneakers, a dark red hoodie, and gray sweatpants, no make-up and with his hair still tussled from sleep. It's the first time they've seen him with no gloves (outside of his pornos) (Where he got the clothes? He and Cherri spent the previous night burning everything Valentino has ever given him (EXCLUDING FAT NUGGETS) and went on a shopping spree for new clothes. She got a little worried when Angel started picking things that went the opposite direction to his usual style, but when Angel said he didn't want to wear something that looked like Val had picked it for him she went ham with choices).

Charlie might worry, not necessarily because it's a bad thing, but because it's such an abrupt chance after such an emotionally charged event that she doesn't know if it's a good or a bad change.

It would be the best day of Alastor's life. 10/10. He compliments Angel once, but in a backhanded kinda way by implying the other way he dressed made him a slut or something like that, saying Angel looks much better covered up, and Angel genuinely thanks him. He's a little freaked out by that last part, but he takes the win.

Husk is worried, tries to have a "wear whatever the fuck you want" kinda conversation. But Angel tells him THIS is what he wants to wear. That the idea of wearing the same things he did while under contract makes him feel sick. Like he's still under Val's thumb.

He would still be hypersexual. His personality wouldn't change, only his wardrobe does. And maybe some words go out of his vocabulary. But he's still a flirt (much to Alastor's chagrin), he still sleeps around (though as we've seen in the show over time it would become less in a self destructive way but more as a genuine interest in doing so. Nothing wrong with one night stands), he would still see the most valuable part of him as what he can do, sexually, for someone.

But dressing differently would make him feel like he has more control over his life.

This... Became longer than I expected. Sorry. I know some people don't post asks that are too much like drabbles, but uuuuhh I hope you don't mind. This is more incoherent character analysis I guess.

-🐇

I love this honestly, I’ve thought about this too! Angel swinging far in the other direction for a bit after he gets freedom from Valentino, trying to figure out what HE likes.

I assume he had to be pretty masculine with his family, and with his death he was able to be more free to explore femininity. But then with Val it went the complete opposite direction.

Him completely having freedom could allow him to explore what he likes, allowing him to form his own connections with femininity/masculinity that goes beyond what others expect from him or what front he has to put up to be “safe.”

I might put this in my list for later because this definitely would be fun to explore! And also I love all these messages im getting from you. They both expand on ideas I’ve had on Angel and also introduce new ones! And makes me more motivated to write something when I have the chance.

[itsclydebitches]

I know there's a lot to unpack in James' new interview but I am feral, FERAL I SAY, over this fucking line right here:

"His need was to be loved, and his tragic flaw was the belief that he was unlovable."

Back before Season 3 hit and Tedependent became ~trendy~ (not actually lol) I was heacanoning and writing Trent as a pretty anxious individual, someone with a ton of internalized self-loathing whose "whole vibe" was more of a mask than legitimate self-confidence. At the time I worried about him coming across as too OOC because really, what did we have to support this? Ted Lasso's prevailing theme of men discovering love and support when they previously had none? The lovely parallel of Trent struggling with many of Ted's own flaws, but presenting in opposite ways (cutting cynicism vs. endless optimism)? The then—far less developed—comments from James that Trent might have a rough relationship with his father? It felt unsubstantiated, unpersuasive, built more on my own interest in those kinds of characters and the occasional awkward moment from Trent than actual canon. Even into Season 3 I questioned whether my reading of him as struggling, significantly, with the care Ted offers wasn't just a result of my own, imagined inner life for him.

But NOW.

I'm sorry, hold up, can I just re-confirm that TRENT'S TRAGIC FLAW IS HIS BELIEF THAT HE'S UNLOVABLE? Unlovable??? Thank you, James Lance, for validating every reading I've had of this character since he first appeared on screen. Do people realize the depth this adds to every interaction Trent has? Particularly with Ted? Unlovable Trent Crimm starts off this relationship with a sincere compliment on his style ("I like your glasses"), something that Season 3 will present as a core part of his personality, something he's largely hidden away. Unlovable Trent Crimm grappling with the fact that yes, Ted enjoyed spending time with him. Him. WHILE he was playing the part of the asshole journalist. Unlovable Trent not being rejected when he admits, in moments of vulnerability, that he "Loves [their] chats." Unlovable Trent having his father's (likely snide) "Independent" comment reframed as a fun pun + advice to follow his "bliss": you have support, Trent, no matter what you choose to do. I don't care if you're successful covering a masculine-coded sport, I care if you're happy. Unlovable Trent committing the ultimate betrayal and being forgiven for it, immediately. Unlovable Trent being forcibly integrated into the Richmond family; actively accepted rather than passively tolerated: yes you should work here, yes you're a Diamond Dog, sit your butt down, Trenthouse Magazine, you will never be excluded again.

I'm sorry for the rambling post but I'm just so!! Insane about this!!! So much of Trent's hesitance could have been written off as a result of his career. That is, it might have been merely a learned reaction after decades of deliberately pissing people off. Of course they dislike him, but take him out of that environment and everything's fixed. Yet James has confirmed that he played Trent as intrinsically believing this. The career was a result of that unfounded fear—Might as well keep people at a distance before they hurt me first—as well as, simultaneously, a desire to somehow achieve the love that should have been unconditional from the start—Maybe my father will like me if I can be that "alpha male man's man" in print. Because this isn't just a flaw, it's a tragic flaw, a literary term that denotes a deficiency that leads to the character's downfall. This belief is so entrenched that it has led to Trent actively self-sabotaging his chances of being loved in the first place; a horrible self-fulfilling prophecy. He NEEDED someone like Ted—a fucking love sledgehammer that forces people to accept his care in the least subtle ways possible, even when they're acting as their own worst enemy—and by god, he got him!

Aside from Nate, Trent has always felt like the most isolated character to me at the start of the series (and even Nate has a good relationship with his mother and sister). What we've learned in Season 3 and James' interviews has only reinforced that reading for me: he was closeted in his marriage, unintentionally hurting his daughter, he's suffering under his father's expectations, he hates the press persona he's created to survive, he's bored at his job, footballers and other potential interviewees despise him—and not without reason (Roy). He has no friends that we see pre-Richmond and he's reached a point where the simple act of someone saying that they liked spending the day with him—again, while he's actively TRYING to piss them off and keep his distance—has him in such a state of shock he runs for the door, pens an uncharacteristically hopeful write-up, and is well on his way to upending his entire life for that man.

Because of course he is!!! From Trent's perspective Ted is a fucking impossibility shaped into human form. This is a man in his 40s whose greatest lifelong fear—now all but a certainty at his age—has been dismantled in a matter of hours. I'd write a book-length love letter to him too! And RIP to finale!Trent, but I would have run fucking Rom-Com style after the man who not only changed my life, but my entire sense of self-worth. (Ah fuck, but there's that tragic flaw again, keeping Trent hesitant. I now stand by my reading of the "I'll leave you be" scene as an unrequited goodbye.)

But finale aside, the man who'd convinced himself he was unlovable fell for the man who was love incarnate.

If that's not the most romantic shit you've ever heard idk what is!!!

[charcubed]

I'm curious, what are the main reasons why Dean is your favorite canon bisexual in media? Love your meta and that video btw

Ooooo, anon, thank you for the kind words and for giving me an excuse to talk about my love for bisexual icon Dean Winchester <3

I'm going to be really annoying (sorry) and quote part of my meta first. It summarizes and articulates many of my thoughts on this. And then to further answer your question I'll add a bit under it!

From the very beginning, Dean Winchester has been a character tied to classic elements of American masculinity. He was introduced with a superficial veneer involving those elements, but almost immediately the early episodes provide a look at the complexity of his character underneath it. Over the years, that complexity was further explored, and he came to embody a study in things society would often have us think should be incompatible contrasts: the gruffness and grit of hunting life and its associated masculine iconography, paired with his open and deep emotional care for the world; unabashed love for classic rock, superheroes, and horror movies, as well as unabashed joy connected to TV dramas, chick flicks, and childhood favorites like Scooby-Doo; life on the road with a muscle car, but the desire for a home base with creature comforts he can make his own; motivation to always help people, but the clear longing for balance with personal domesticity and relaxation so he could save not only others but also himself.

As a whole, his character functions as an effective deconstruction of toxic masculinity and stereotypical American heroism. And while much of Dean’s most masculine traits and interests are said to come from his father’s influence, part of his journey is loving those parts of himself on their own merit not because he ever had to but because he wants to. He is not his father, and he redefines those valued parts of his identity so they are his and his alone. He also crucially learns to recognize and joyfully embody that those masculine traits were never all that he had to be, working through and overcoming shame and hesitancy along the way. The result? He’s “good with who he is.”

He and the audience are encouraged to see that there are no rules his identity and interests must subscribe to, on a micro or a macro level. The message is to disregard predetermined destiny or duty. Free will means his life is his to determine, his family can be what he makes of it and how he defines it, and what he needs and wants do not ever have to be mutually exclusive. Dean’s journey is about freedom from outwardly-imposed limitations–whether those limitations come from his father’s example and the God altering his story, or from the pervasive societal ideals and network/executive interference outside of it. Dean can and should contain multitudes, all at once.

In this way, Dean’s story is a powerfully queer narrative that acts as metacommentary. In the fullness of its execution, it is also specifically a deeply bisexual narrative.

The not-so-hidden truth is that Dean is canonically a bisexual man. His story was afforded something that’s rare for most characters and almost nonexistent for queer ones: fifteen years of lengthy, nuanced development.

[...]

Again: Dean’s identity journey is about how he can and does contain the capacity for multitudes, and it’s part of what makes him such a compelling character. He can like “this” and “that.” He can be attracted to women and men. Or, as writer Ben Edlund and director Phil Sgriccia said in a DVD commentary, Dean has “the potential for love in all places.”

I wanted to include the above verbatim because it spells out something specific: Dean's narrative is bisexual in its bones. Supernatural evolved to become a queer text, but the specific ways the show and Dean as a character evolved are very intertwined with and informed by the fact that Dean is a masculine bisexual man. SPN is a story that was not meant to be about being queer, but as it became about freedom through free will, those themes were then leveraged and emphasized in connection to queerness because of Destiel. And by the end, the free will narrative and Dean's journey as a bi man are utterly inseparable, because Dean's fight for true freedom is tied to his love for a man and their untraditional family in a way that higher forces are trying to hinder.

You cannot cut out or edit or remove Dean's bisexuality from the story, or several narratives and plot lines (not just Destiel) would at minimum be misunderstood or at maximum fall apart. And yet, simultaneously? Dean's bisexuality is also far from being the sole important thing about his character because he is written with such nuanced complexities and across so many years of material.

Of course, add onto this the overall unique situation that surrounds Supernatural as a piece of media. People talk at length about how there will never be anything like it again, including me; that's obviously true from multiple different angles and for multiple different reasons, with Destiel being prime amongst them. But a related yet distinctly significant branch of that topic is there will never be another bisexual character who is written and evolves quite like Dean.

Was Dean supposed to be bisexual from the very start, out of the mind of Kripke? Who can know for sure, but probably not. Were certain writers and members of production deliberately putting more queercoding and subtext into Dean's character/story from the very start? Who can know for sure, but potentially yes, and certainly the answer becomes unarguably definitely yes the farther you get into the show. That's part of my love and passion for him too, because all of that is deeply unique and incredibly cool.

Dean's bisexuality evolved in a way that (against all odds) actually feels organic, seamless, and like it's simply a part of his character that's been there all along. The effect when you look at Supernatural as a whole body of work is that Dean's always been bi, and his expressions of and acknowledgements of that part of him ebb and flow depending on situation–which is a very relatable notion for many queer people. And as those writing the show became more committed and certain about that piece of who Dean is, so did he, in nuanced and subtle ways skillfully embedded into his story by design. It's bafflingly, impressively cohesive; gives him an incredibly realistic feel; matches his overall character growth; and rings true to his demographic, age, personality, and experiences.

Dean and his story and the situation(s) surrounding both are simply incomparable, and that will be true forever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

...also. Well. I simply love him, y'know? For even more reasons unconnected to this. How can you not, right? :')

Thank you for asking, and thanks for reading this bi Dean manifesto!

Putting my video that you mentioned here for anyone who's not watched it:

My new magnum opus, please stream, etc.

(or watch on Tumblr here)

[fl3shm4id3n]

Fₒᵣ ₕₑᵣ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Death of a child, murder, angst, descriptions of gore? nudity, reader is kind of pshyco, comfort

A/N: Sorry that its short

Masterlist

Who knows how long you've been knocked out, when you woke up, you felt your whole body in pain. You were also laying on a bed, the same bed that you used to sleep in, looking down you saw that you were dressed in a big t-shirt. You forgot the last time you wore clothing, your symbiote companion was basically your clothes. Slowly you sat up, looking around the room, everything was still intact. Almost everything, the room was a mess and on the wall there was a board with papers and red strings.

Getting off the bed, you went over at the board, there was new papers and reports of venom, about their crimes and recent murders. Looking over, there was a missing person poster. It was of you, he used an old picture of yours. In the picture you were smiling and seemed happier. Now you just looked tired and with so much hate.

"I didn't think you'd wake up" you heard a masculine voice refured to you. Turning to see who it was, it was the one and only Miguel, your husband. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. "So, I'm guessing you're going to turn me in?" you asked, almost sounding snarky. Miguel shook his head. "No.." he stopped, looking at you. "I just want to know why?" he asked. You were busy playing with strands of your messy hair, acting as if you had no clue what you were talking about. "I don't know what you're talking about" you said.

Miguel groaned. "Por amor de-" for the love of- he stopped, taking another deep breath and spoke again. "Why did you kill those men?" he asked. You let go of your hair and looked back the board with the papers of your crimes. "I'm pretty sure you heard me in the ally" you said, looking at the recent murder. You've changed, you were no longer that loving person who wanted nothing but for the world to be a good place, now you were basically someone filled with rage and a murderer. It was as if he didn't know you anymore. "I didn't kill them instantly, killing them would be like, giving them a pass for their crimes. So I improvised.. I made sure they felt my pain.." you said coldly, this made Miguel a bit sick. He knew what you did to those men, he would be the one at the crime screen to witness the things that you left behind. He couldn't get that view out of his head.

"You're not better then them y/n, you also did crimes, crimes worse then pick pocketing and robbing!" Miguel explained, all you could do was laugh. "So? I never did this to be better than them! I did it for my daughter! my baby!" you began to yell at him. "Did he think about what he was doing?! That man shot my fucking baby dead! Her blood was in my hands!" You continued screaming, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "The last words she told me was 'mama, I'm scared'... she was a fucking child Miguel!" you shouted, already falling into hysterics.

"She was my daughter too, I saw everything that you did, she was also my baby." Miguel said in a calming manner, trying to calm you down. "You weren't there when I needed you... you were gone for work and doing your spiderman shit!" you presided to scream. "... the only time you were here was to try and put me in a fucking psych ward.. " you reminded him. It was true, he was gone, leaving you alone to cry. He felt guilty, he regretted not being able to give you the help that you needed, he approached you the wrong way, he shouldn't have shouted or threated you to lock you away for a time. He also felt responsible that you had left and why you became the person that you had become.

You were still crying, going back to remembering that same day many years back. How you carried your daughter to the hospital and how both your hands as well as clothes had blood on them. It began to feel as if her last words to you echoed in your head, causing you to let out a loud sob. You then felt a huge pair of arms wrap around you, Miguel had pulled you into a tight hug as you continued to cry. "I did it for her!" you sobbed, while trying to get away from him, but he didn't let go. You still struggled to get away from him, but he kept a hold on you. "I DID IT FOR HER!" you screamed loudly, even though it hurt his ears, he still held you.

Eventually you stopped fighting, you just cried. "It was for her.." you sobbed as you cried while holding onto his tightly. Miguel continued to hug you and stroking your hair trying to calm you down. He knew that you needed to let it all out. It sounded as if you had been holding it in for years. You both stayed like that until you eventually stopped crying, who knows how long it's been since you stopped. You were just snuggled up in his arms as while you crying. All Miguel could do was hold you while stroking your hair and whispering that it was okay. It felt nice having your husband back.

ₚᵣₑᵥᵢₒᵤₛ ₚₐᵣₜ

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 ★ || b.c

★ summary: an accidental confession gone wrong, and fate forcing you to meet the one person you never wanted to see again.

★ characters: bang chan, cannon y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), holland (the sweetest gay idol in the entire world)

★ warnings: lots of hurt, the reader is an idol, and his stage name is Mars (for the sake of the story, reader also has a last name), so much heartache, grab your tissues bc channie is about to break your heart...this story doesn't follow exactly how chan became an idol, so for the sake of the story, he moves to korea after high school, internal homophobia, mentions of depression, reader has an anxiety attack :(

★ word count: 3.7K

★ requested?: yes, thank you to @cheeseflirty47

★ binnie's thoughts: ohhhh this one is a doozy, yall... i love writing angst so much, and i'm no stranger to rejection and heartbreak, so this is gonna be a little personal for me, so i hope i do it justice...I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BUT I STRUGGLED SO BAD

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Having a dad who grew up with his best friend from diapers all the way into adulthood, meant that you were required to get along with his best friend’s son. It didn’t matter if you and Chan liked different things, you had to get along with him, according to your old man. Lucky for the both of them, you and Chan got along perfectly. You were both born in the same month, just 3 days apart, with Chan being the older one. You two did everything together growing up, mischievous little boys who rolled in dirt and played with bugs. As you got older, you both realized how much music meant to you.

Music was a staple in your home, your mother was in her school’s choir, and she was in theater. Your father was in a band that he formed with Chan’s father and two other friends, and they would perform for the neighborhood whenever there was a cookout or barbeque. So it was no surprise that you picked up on their musical talent, at such a young age on top of that. 

You and Chan were going on a fishing trip while your mom was on a three-day trip with her middle school music class. You and Chan are playing with the wrestling figures that you brought along with you in the back seat, the two of you making punching noises with your mouths as your characters duke it out. The radio plays softly in the car, your dads making conversation as the car rolls smoothly on the road. Suddenly, your favorite song in the entire world, The Girl is Mine, by Michael Jackson featuring Paul McCartney comes on the radio and you gasp, immediately kicking the back of your dad’s seat. 

“Dad, turn it up!” Your voice calls out, ignoring the super important heavyweight champion match you were previously having with Chan. Chan just pouts, he was so so close to winning. He had your character pinned in a finishing move, and was about to count to three. 

Your dad turns up the radio a little with a shake of his head. You wiggle from side to side in your seat, the music taking over you as you begin to sing the lyrics. As your little voice fills the car, Chan’s dad looks at your dad with an incredulous look. Since when did you have such a good singing voice, and why are they just now hearing it? 

“What? You didn’t know my boy had the voice of an angel? Believe me, I was surprised too.” Your dad says, a cocky tilt to his voice. Chan’s dad lets out an awed whistle. 

“He sounds real good, mate,” Chan’s dad starts, taking a sip of his soda as he looks at you belting your heart out in the back seat, “Do you think he’d be famous one day?”

Your dad has definitely thought about you growing up and becoming famous one day. He would be so proud, but he would never force you into a life of fame if it wasn’t something you wanted. “Yeah, but I feel like it’s too soon to think about that, you know? He may not even want to be a singer when he gets older.” Chan’s dad hums, and then he hears another voice joining in on your singing, although it’s much quieter. He breaks out into a smile, knowing that the voice belongs to his very own son. He knows Chan is shy about singing in front of people, so he’s glad to know that you bring out that side of him. He's really happy that you and Chan are close. 

Things remain the same as you and Chan get older. You both have ventured into high school. You still hang out with Chan every single day, you study together after school, and then you ride your bikes to the park and you play a little bit of soccer (or football, whatever you want it to be) until it’s time for you to part ways for dinner. 

Things do change when Chan gets a girlfriend. Vanessa Clovers. A pretty girl with wavy black hair that stops at her shoulder. She has tan skin, probably from playing softball for the school. She had soft blue eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses, her teeth covered in silver braces. She was known as one of the prettier girls in your grade, everyone wanted to get with her. Well, everyone but you.

 Chan had expressed interest in her to you before, and you felt this weird rumble in your stomach. You just dismissed it as you being hungry, and you clapped Chan on the back, encouraging him to go talk to his crush. As you watched him approach the girl, you turned back to your open locker, your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling so… angry. You turned your attention back to Chan, who is deep in conversation with the girl. She’s laughing at something, her arm coming up and playfully slapping Chan’s arm. You close your locker quietly and rush off to class without Chan, something you’ve never done in your life. 

You were guilty. You were guilty because you hated Vanessa. You hated her because she had something you so desperately wanted, she had Chan. She got him before you did, and she makes him happy. You want to be the one to make Chan happy in that way. You want to be the one to kiss his cheek and hold his hand. You hated her for no good reason, she never did anything wrong to you. She was actually nice to you, and oftentimes tried to have a decent conversation with you. All you could really do was muster a fake smile as the ugly green head of envy consumed your being. 

Considering that your birthdays were only three days apart, it only made sense to combine your birthdays together. This year was really no different. You shouldn’t be surprised when Vanessa shows up to the party, a black gift bag in her hand. She makes a beeline to Chan, who’s standing at the grill talking to his dad. She wraps her arms around Chan, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and you can hear a soft happy birthday, baby, fall from her glossy lips. You roll your eyes before you could stop yourself, looking down at the table you’re sitting at. You all of a sudden don’t want to be here, not when you can see Chan and Vanessa sucking faces just a few short feet away from you. Your younger sister must know that something is bothering you, because she walks over with a slice of cake. 

“Stop moping around like an idiot, it's your birthday party too, remember?” She says, plopping down in the seat next to you, setting down her own slice of cake. You’re so glad she’s here, she always knows when something is bothering you. She always gives you something you like, rolling her eyes while telling you to, “get over it, loser.” All you can do is chuckle at her bluntness, your arms tugging her close as you hug her. She may hate when you hug her or pretend to give her a kiss, but you know she’s glad to have you as her older brother. 

“I’m not moping around. I just don’t feel like celebrating, that's all.” You say, stabbing the red velvet cake with your fork, placing the small bite in your mouth as your sister lets out a scoff mixed with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her dramatics, watching as she points her plastic fork at you. 

“You’re just upset that your only friend is busy with his girlfriend. You feel like this birthday isn’t for the both of you, you feel like it’s only for him.” She says, hitting the nail on the head. It makes you cringe internally. 

You’ve never been good with change, whether it be drastic change or something as small as dinner plans being switched to something else. It always throws you off, making you groan dramatically (dramatics run in your family unfortunately) and complain about the sudden changes. 

“I hate how well you know me, Liz.” You mutter, tugging at your hair as you indulge in the delicious cake in front of you.

“I would consider it a blessing, big bro.”

You should consider today to be a good one. Vanessa is out of town for some family trip, meaning you have Chan all to yourself. Which is why you should be happy, but you aren’t. You and Chan are chilling out in his room, the only sound in the room being Chan strumming on his guitar. You can faintly hear the hums coming from his mouth, his body swaying side to side as he plays. The two of you haven’t said much to each other, just a short greeting and a side hug. You can’t help but feel like a stranger in the room you’ve been in dozens of times growing up. 

You look around the room, noticing the changes Chan has made to his space. Something pink catches the corner of your eye and you turn your head to look at it. A shirt, a tank top to be more specific. You already know whose it is, and it makes your stomach turn knowing that she’s been here. 

Did she sleep in your spot on the bed? 

You shake your head to get rid of the idea of her sleeping in your spot on Chan’s bed, the churning feeling becoming stronger, making you want to spill your lunch. You decide to just focus on your phone, scrolling through social media. This goes on for hours, until Chan’s phone rings loudly in the once quiet room, scaring the both of you. 

“Fucking hell,” Chan mutters, grabbing his phone. He lights up when he sees who's calling, his cute dimple appearing on his face. You watch him with a soft smile, wishing that it were you making him smile like that. 

“Hey, gorgeous! How’s your trip?” Chan says, holding his phone up to his ear. You try not to listen to their conversation, knowing it isn’t your place to be nosy. But, you are your mother’s son, you can’t help it. You listen as they talk, your heart breaking as Chan talks to Vanessa with such intimacy. 

As their conversation comes to an end, you’re stuck with your thoughts. Thoughts of wanting someone so desperately that you would do anything to be with them. You would change every single thing about yourself if it meant Chan loved you the same way you love him. You don’t stand a chance against someone like Vanessa. She’s everything you aren’t. Maybe things would be different if you had been born a girl. If only you weren’t attracted to the same gender, maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You wouldn’t be hanging on to something that will never be, a small fire of hope so close to being blown out by the harsh wind of reality. 

“Man, I miss her so much.” Chan says, placing his phone down as he looks at you with this lovesick puppy look on his face. It makes your head hurt knowing it’s not directed at you. 

The words spill from your lips before your brain has time to stop it. 

“I love you, Chan.” 

No. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Your body burns with anxiety, your eyes feeling wet as tears gather. Your mouth is dry, your jaw slack. You start to sweat as you look at Chan’s face. 

You can’t deny the look in his eyes. Humiliation, disgust. Oh, no. You start to sweat, your hands shaking slightly. You can’t seem to bring yourself to do anything.You’re frozen, eyes locked on Chan as his own eyes dart around the room. 

“You know I’m in a relationship, and I’m not into guys.” He says, not looking at you. What he says next makes you want to crawl into yourself and rot away into nothing. His voice is harsh, his tone like a rock. He’s never spoken to anyone like that, much less you. 

“Even if I were into guys, I wouldn’t date you. You’re my best friend and you’re like a brother to me, that’s just weird.” 

You can literally taste the disgust in his voice. So potent and loud, it makes you dizzy. You bite back a sob, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. You feel like if you attempt to even say anything, you will throw up. 

“Besides, Vanessa was telling me about how you don’t like her. She said she heard you talking bad about her to your sister at our party. What the hell, Y/N?” Chan says, his expression quickly switching to angry. 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You know she’s lying, you have never said anything bad about her. Well, not out loud. You want to defend yourself, but your mouth won’t move. Your brain is screaming at you to say something, anything. All you can do is look down at your shaking hands as Chan scoffs at you.

“You aren’t even going to deny it? So what she said must be true. I can’t believe you, Y/N! She’s never done anything wrong to you!” 

You can’t even defend yourself. You sit there as Chan expresses his frustrations to you, his words hitting you hard. He hates you now. All because of some girl that entered his life two years ago, when you’ve been there the whole time. 

“Get out, Y/N. I can’t even look at you right now.” Chan says, opening his door and motioning for you to get out. You hesitate, your legs feeling like the stiffest bowl of jello as you stand. 

The tears don’t stop as you make your way out of the Bahng household, ignoring Chan’s mom as she greets you from the living room. She hears Chan’s door slam and she frowns. Something must have happened, the two of you have never argued. Of course the two of you had little disagreements as kids, but it was easily solved with talking and hugging. She knows this is not a talking and hugging situation. 

You rush home, your vision blurry with salty tears that sting. You enter your home, making a beeline to your room. You close the door softly, not wanting to alert anyone of your arrival. You don’t want to see or speak to anyone. You try to catch your breath, choking on the sobs that come out of your mouth. You grip your chest, feeling your heart racing under your hand. Your heartbeat reverberates in your ears, your body shaking as you drop to your knees. You hear voices in your head, berating you for confessing to Chan. They call you names, they point out your flaws, your weaknesses. 

You wish it would stop.

You honestly didn’t expect to meet Chan again. Especially not after your debut as a solo artist in South Korea. You recently made your debut and everyone loves you. You go by Mars, one of your nicknames growing up. You’re known for singing soft songs, the words relatable and full of emotion. Your debut album was a hit, causing you to gain fame fairly fast. Your fans liked that you were authentic, not some tasteless blob molded by an entertainment company for money. You were also one of the first openly-gay idols. 

That day you left Chan’s house was the last time you ever saw him and his family. Just a few short months later, they packed up and moved to South Korea. When you found out, it broke your heart, knowing that the last interaction you had with your best friend was a negative one. 

Your sister had found you in your room, you were struggling to breathe as your entire body shook. She immediately called for your mom frantically, not used to seeing you in such a panicked state. Your mother managed to get you to calm down, helping you breathe properly before you passed out. After that, she took you to see a doctor, and you were diagnosed with anxiety disorder and a mild case of depression. Your mother was supportive, she got you into therapy and you slowly got better, but there’s still times where you don’t feel 100%. 

Which brings us to now. An award show. Everyone is there, all of the people you idolized were right in front of you, and a few of them actually expressed excitement about your debut album. You thanked them, telling them that their music inspired you to start making music yourself. 

As you’re sitting in your seat talking to Holland, another idol under your label, and a fellow openly-gay idol, you hear some commotion coming from behind you. You turn your head and see a group approaching you. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but when your ex-best friend and previous (he still is) crush is in the front, you tend to freak out a bit. Your eyes go wide and you whip your head to face forward, causing a laugh from Holland. 

“What’s got you so freaked out? You didn’t see a ghost, did you?” He asks, turning back to see what you were freaking out about. All he sees is the group Stray Kids, taking their seats behind you. He turns back around to you, taking in your wide eyes and the way you bite your bottom lip. The pieces start to come together.

“Oh,” he starts, “You are totally crushing on one of them.”

“What, no way! That’s ridiculous!” You sputter, your face heating up. 

Holland just laughs, his hand clapping you on the shoulder. 

You sit on a stool in the middle of the stage, a large piano in front of you. You are belting the words so passionately, the lights shining down on you, heating your body up, making you sweat a little. Everyone in the crowd is moved by your performance, but every time you open your eyes, you keep looking at Chan. 

His face is unreadable, almost as if he knows the song is about him and not some old flame like you claimed in every interview. The lyrics just feel too familiar to him, his mind going back to his teenage years with you. He misses those times with you, laughing and messing with your little sisters. He feels bad for how things ended between you, and he wishes he could apologize. He’s heard your entire album, he’s had it on repeat for weeks. He’s not an idiot, your debut album is about him. He has to find a way to talk to you and apologize. 

Finding you was easy. He catches you backstage after your performance, watching as you talk to a pretty blonde guy. You’re smiling, toothy and bright, and he feels his heart skip in his chest. Where did that come from? He walks towards you, catching your attention. 

He watches your eyes go wide, your entire body freezing as you stare at him as if he grew two heads. He thinks you look silly like that, and he can’t fight the smile on his face. 

“Y/N, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He says, mentally kicking himself for being so damn awkward. 

You hesitate, your eyes looking everywhere but at him. You noticed that Holland isn’t at your side, and you remind yourself to flick his forehead when you see him. “It has.”

“Do you have a moment to talk? Maybe we can get some dinner and catch up?” He asks, his voice hopeful as he tilts his head at you. Your heart flips at the way he looks, his brown hair flopping to the side. 

You wonder if this is a good idea. You could easily get hurt again, but you would also like some closure. There’s so many questions running through your head, it makes you dizzy.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Dinner sounds nice.” 

You and Chan leave after the awards show, and you go to a secluded sushi restaurant. The air is awkward, but it passes quickly when Chan brings up the time you both filled his parents bathtub with frogs you captured in the mud. You can’t help but laugh, reminiscing about your wild child days. 

“Y/N, I missed you. So much.” Chan says, his eyes on you, not once looking away. You feel your face get warm, and you try to fight the smile creeping onto your face. 

“Chan, I missed you too. But I can’t forget how you spoke to me that day. It really hurt that you believed Vanessa over me.” You say, ignoring the aggressive bounce of your leg as you tell him how you felt that day. 

Chan cringes when he hears that name. “Right, Vanessa. We actually broke up not long after I…kicked you out.” Chan says, and you gape at him. 

“If you don’t mind, why did you break up?” You ask, picking at the loose strings of your sweater; a nervous habit you picked up from your anxiety. 

“It turns out she lied about you being rude to her because she was jealous of how close we…were.” Chan sighs, taking a sip of his drink as he rolls his eyes. You were right all along. She wasn’t to be trusted. 

“I always knew she was the jealous type. She thought I couldn’t see when she would glare at me whenever you and I would talk,” You say, pointing your chopsticks at him. “I never said anything bad about her, that was Liz.” 

Chan laughs at that, knowing that your little sister had quite the attitude. It makes him miss Hannah and the rest of his family. 

“You aren’t still mad at me, are you? Because according to your album, you sound like you hate me.” Chan asks. “If you aren’t mad, then I’d like us to pick up where we left off as friends.”

You thought about it for a second. You would finally have your best friend back in your life, but not in the way you truly desired. Could you live with that? Sure, it can’t be too hard. You’ll always have other people in your life. 

“Yeah, we can go back to where we left off. We’re brothers for life, right?” You ask, a gentle smile on your face as you look at Chan. He smiles back and you both make a toast to rekindling a once broken friendship between brothers.

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

@[REDACTED] because you heathens can't let someone fucking LEARN. op, I intend this kindly, but I can tell you would not be a friend to terfs and this whole thing is rooted in terf brainrot. I'm choosing community today and going to explain why this is terfy shit fucking over trans mascs.

so the core of the terf belief system is that there is a bioessentialist Quality Of Men that makes them fundamentally an Oppressor who can never face marginalization, right? we disagree with that because we love trans people--both women and men. if men are Fundamentally Oppressors, you can't Change Genders. here's the thing. under the premise of "transmasculine oppression does not occur at any axis so they can't have this word", you have removed the bioessentialist aspect but still accepted that there is a Quality Of Men that innately makes them an Oppressor that can never face marginalization.

now the next logical step that we've taken from "men can never be oppressed or have a -phobia term" is that because the "base model" or cis men aren't oppressed and don't face what would hypothetically be "androphobia," trans men cannot create the term "transandrophobia" to describe their real experiences of pain and oppression. despite this weird semantic caveat, we both fully and entirely agree that trans men/mascs do face real oppression specifically due to being Trans Men/Mascs that is different in nature from the cruelty and oppression that Trans Women/Femmes face. so we fully agree that the phenomenon is real, but you and many others are for some reason saying they cannot have a word to describe it. they can't have a word to describe their real experiences because the "base model" doesn't face oppression and we hate the base model so much they specifically do not and can never have a -phobia word.

what is the point of this? who does this help?

it helps terfs keep trans mascs isolated is who it helps. i just. i think the toxicity of the idea is really represented in action right now. because we are talking about a group of men/masculine people who are actively specifically marginalized. they are telling us they are being targeted for detransition and conversion therapy. they are trying to tell us something and we aren't listening because we're playing semantic games over what words they're allowed to use. because they aren't oppressed enough to "be at an axis." in practice right now, it seems like "be at an axis" has turned into "have a real voice in the community." there needs to be room here, conversations where "trans masc" isn't a performative placeholder for "passing trans men," more fluid boundaries between "Man" and "Woman" and how people identified within those categories face marginalization, less hatred for Men and more love for queer life and liberation. not just to be inclusive of nonbinary people who also exist and face weird mixes of both of these real things--transandrophobia and transmisogyny-- but because right now we are denying solidarity to members of our community and limiting our own discussion and understanding in favor of forcing a Very Harassed Group Of Us to endlessly workshop the term over petty semantic grievances.

and I'm sorry but i really. just need us to collectively take a moment and reflect that the grievance is "this word could be broken down into another word we wouldn't like." and i don't really know what to do with that. there are a lot of good reasons to use the term "transandrophobia" not the least of which is because it's immediately descriptive under the language rules we all know (the marginalization/hate that trans men face) but because it fits in with all of the other queer terms--biphobia, homophobia, lesbophobia, aphobia, queerphobia--we generally went hard in terms of "phobia" terms. trans-andro-phobia seems perfectly reasonable to me to describe the hatred of trans men. i am really really sad that "'andro' can't be in a 'phobia' word because men can never be oppressed" became the dominant discourse on this because it really is just. mean. it's just mean-spiritied. 'misandry' already exists. if whatever you were scared of was gonna happen, it already would have. i really cannot comprehend the preferencing of some nebulous possible harm of "androphobia" over and above our ability to describe real problems facing members of our community.

again i ask you, who does this help? trans mascs are our community and they are being attacked brutally and quietly and we aren't talking about it because?? men can't be oppressed because they're not on an axis? they are asking us for solidarity. and they need it.

trans men are asking us to see that terfs weaponize murderous language against trans women but they are no less genocidal in their aims of targeting trans men and mascs for de-transition, conversion therapy, and corrective rape. "lost lesbians" and "lost daughters" and "irreversible damage" are rallying cries and money makers among the far right--they say "keep your daughters daughters, keep them in the ontological category of victim before they become a predator."

the hostility to the term transandrophobia because "men can't be oppressed" is the internalization of the terf belief that men are fundamentally and innately predators and oppressors instead of people reacting to their position under the system of patriarchy. it's a belief that never allows for the destruction of the patriarchy. it says you can never be a gender-traitor unless you're the right gender--a feminine gender (woman) fighting against the innately violent masculine onslaught (men). there are straight cis men who fight against toxic male gender norms and face violence for it, too. this model cannot articulate that violence beyond "homophobia" and it cannot articulate the violence against our trans brothers beyond "transphobia" and that is a failure. that is not ideological purity-- that is an active failure to real and living members of your community. we need to articulate it.

transandrophobia is a perfectly serviceable term to describe a real problem that needs a term. trans men and mascs face specific violences. your response literally agrees that it's real. we have both stated on multiple occasions that agree that it's real. so we need to be able to talk about it. so we need a word for it.

i would encourage you in general to prioritize people's wellbeing over and above linguistic purity. especially right now when things are getting worse and worse and worse for ALL trans people.

[electric-rabbits]

re ur tags on that bruce springsteen tweet - if you ever wanna make a post abt ur thoughts on bruce and presenting masculinity, id love to hear em

Oh, you shouldn't support me on this, they are way too many thoughts and I don't even know if I can put them into words; but I guess this is that post now. Thank you for showing interest, and sorry in advance lmao. Listen, Springsteen is the fucking epitome of butchnes, and funnily enough, he is so in a queer way. None of this is me claiming Springsteen is queer at all, but his presentation of masculinity is something very intentional, and it comes from a need to subvert the kind of masculinity he grew up around. It's quite literally a performance, his stage persona, and it's simultaneously a homage and a challenge to the idea of salt-of-the-earth, alpha manliness that he could never really achieve in real life. As I've seen a post on tumblr say once, he's queer in much the same way that Dolly Parton is queer- as in, they aren't, but the gays still see themselves on them. Both are camp, in the sense that both are very intentionally playing the part of their gender to an almost artificial level; something queer people know all too well. Because being butch for a cis man is usually just conforming to masculinity, it's about being cool and big and strong and all muscles; but being butch to anyone else is a sort of challenge. It's about proving yourself, while at the same time subverting the notions of gender and, especially, of masculinity, and turning it into something uniquely yours. In this sense, Springsteen talks about his stage persona as this one-dimensional shell of coolness that hides the complexities of being a man; of being kind and sensitive and of loving those around you openly and loudly. In a way, his masculinity is a mix of everything his father was and everything he wished his father had been; of all the ways their identities clashed while he was looking for his own self. If he makes sure to look incredibly masculine on stage while he sings about the problems of America, the harshness of capitalism, about love and fear and beauty; if he's really butch while Clarence Clemons holds him in his arms and kisses him on the lips; it's at least a little bit about challenging his father. A man who forcibly shaved his long hair while he was immobilized because his son was looking too feminine. And Springsteen's presentation of masculinity has other layers, not the least of which being the fact that it's a very blue collar, working class type of masculinity. His leather jackets and blue jeans and white t-shirts became a staple of the cool guy look, sure; but they came from growing up at a factory town, from being raised by a working man with the ideals of the 1950's and a very strict idea of what Being a Man means. Because life is tough, and to be a man you need to be tougher. But there's also the context in which he started making his art. He was a kid, and he had a band, and he quickly found out that the places where that was seen as a good thing were the ones filled with other outcasts. So he made a career of singing at coastal bars and in gay clubs and of writing about those different lives, and eventually he found the E Street Band and met Clarence who "opened up the doors of soul for a poor white guy", and so both blackness and queerness influenced his very specific, and still very universally recognizable, version of masculinity. It's all intentional, and it's all much more complex than it might seem at first glance. Anyways, sorry for ranting, I just have a lot of feelings about Bruce Springsteen and about masculinity as a performance.

[periluvr]

Geto Suguru - Twin Flames

cw : ANGST, doesn’t really follow the jjk plot

tw : mention of suicide, death, mention of anxiety/panick attack, toxic relationship

Twin flames are the result of the splitting of a single soul.

I had found my twin flame, the flame that destroyed and healed me day by day. He was my blessing and my curse, my success and my failure, he was me and I was him. He was the other side of my soul. Our souls became one. Geto Suguru, you were my other half.

We met one night in a bar. He was with his friends and I was with mine. Our eyes met and we never took our eyes off each other again. It wasn't love at first sight, I'd felt another sensation, much stronger, of immeasurable energetic intensity. I could feel it, my entity was complete and balanced thanks to him. He was the masculine, aggressive, nervous part of me, while I was the feminine, gentle part of him. There was no need for words, we just knew that we were connected. Our souls communicated and danced. He was me.

Our story began that famous evening, the night we came together for life and death. The love and the wounds only grew. Suguru wanted to be me at all costs, he felt the need, his love was suffocating, but I needed it to live. I was afraid, afraid of so much love, and all I could think about was running away from it. I used to adapt to the people I met. Knowing that someone could see through all that and knew me better than I knew myself scared me.

I felt as if I'd known him all my life, because in the end, we were each other. Our souls became one, growing and maturing with us. To be honest, the relationship was devastating for both him and me. Emotionally, I'll never get over it. We hurt each other psychologically on purpose to see who could hurt the other the hardest. We couldn't stay apart for more than two days, it was insurmountable. I felt like my whole being was leaving with him and I wasn't myself anymore. I needed him like I needed no one else.

Suguru was ready to sacrifice himself for me,

and he did.

He knew that the relationship was toxic, it was never healthy. But the separation was so destructive that we tried to stay together.

One evening, I was on the bus coming home from work. I caught myself in tachycardia, I was shaking, I couldn't breathe. In fact, I was having an panick attack, something had happened to Suguru. I got off at the next stop and ran on and on, shouting "Suguru". I cried and cried. I knew that Suguru had stayed at home that day and I had to get there. When I got to the front of his appartment, I was scared to open the door. Once in the living room, I saw him lying on the floor. His breathing had stopped and he had no pulse. There was a letter on the table, and I knew immediately. He had committed suicide. I picked up the letter, my tears wouldn't stop, my hands were shaking and I found myself unable to breathe.

"Thank you for crossing my path, you're everything that's most important to me, unfortunately you and I both know that love isn't enough in this kind of relationship. You were me and I saw you suffering, it was unbearable. I didn't want to go through your abandonment a second time. By doing that, I saved myself, I saved us."

I had just lost my soul. He was my blessing as well as my curse, he was my success as well as my failure, he was me and I was him. He was the other part of my soul. Our souls became one. Geto Suguru, you were my other half. When I lost Suguru, I died with my eyes open.

A few days later, I found myself at the funeral of my other half, my one and only. After the ceremony, I stood for hours in front of his grave, wondering "what have I done?" .

A hand came to rest on my shoulder and the man next to me said that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

Hi! first post here, english isn’t my first language so i use google traduction to help me, if there are any grammatical errors i’m sorry!!

i don’t really know how tumblr works but you can reblog and comment i you liked it!

[ghostr0tz]

Hello there!

I really like your headcanons on Vox and I have far too many myself! One of my biggest is that he’s trans, but more specifically that both Vox and Alastor are trans. So here’s some stuff about them because radiostatic lives rent free in my brain.

Vox’s dead name was Victoria and Alastor’s was Alice.

Vox changed his name to Victor for a short period of time while alive, Alastor just became Alastor rather than Alice.

While Vox is super self conscious, Alastor is just glad he has a dick now.

When dating, these two constantly are supporting each other and hyping the other up on how masculine they are. Not in a toxic way, just them being goofy.

These two knew each other when alive! They both remember each other before and after they transitioned. (Vox had a crush on Alastor even when alive, this man is a simp.)

Even though I like seeing Vox in binders, they both probably got chest surgery very early on. They just like to admire each other’s scars in bed.

Whenever one of them runs into a transphobe they promptly take turns torturing them.

Vox is the type of dude to drag Alastor to pride parades while Alastor complains the entire time, but ends up really enjoying it.

I just like these two and my friends already know about how much I do. Sorry if this is too much for a normal ask (even if it really isn’t one) I’ve just spent my entire morning listening to 505 on repeat and digging through the deepest corners of #radiostatic.

AA, i love these !! Thank you for sending these it was good to open tumblr to. I enjoy reading others' thoughts and headcanons.

[drdemonprince]

I love the name Devon! Howd you choose it

Before my name change, my middle name was Dawn. In my Midwestern accent, that name is indistinguishable from Don, and I got a real thrill out of people being surprised that I had a "man's name" for my middle name throughout my childhood. That probably led me to gravitate toward names that started with the letter D.

I was also besotted by a female cellist in my high school orchestra with the name of Devon; she was quiet and self-serious and incredibly talented in an unshowy way, and I just thought it was so damn cool that she had an androgynous, male-leaning name. I'd always found it so cool when girls had names like Ryan or Max as well.

Later, in college, I'd become close friends with a sarcastic, witty environmental studies major named Devon; we talked a lot about Sufjan Stevens music and got drunk together before a falling out between my boyfriend and his roommate kinda drove us apart. As an adult another Devin, this time with an "I" instead of an "o" became my friend through the Chicago Live Lit scene. He's a gay ex-evangelical and comic book nerd with a sweet disposition, encyclopedic knowledge of graphic novels, and a winningly boisterous laugh. So the name had only positive associations.

Around the time my transgender egg was getting cracked, I was on the tabletop role playing podcast @wheelandway. My character in the first season was a hillbilly wizard named Dale. I tried that name on for size because I liked the letter D, and I thought it suited my Appalachian background. Eventually I decided it didn't quite fit, it didn't have enough of an edge for me, but I was headed in the right direction.

I considered other, loosely similar names like Damon (yeah like Albarn, sorry), but Devon seemed the most appealing to me. It was English and kind of classy sounding to my American but British-and-Scottish-ancestried ear, and I liked that it meant "shield" and nicely matched my chosen last name, Price. I liked that it was androgynous but leaning masculine, with the majority of babies named Devon today still being male -- usually once a name becomes androgynous, it breaks in a more female direction, in terms of enduring naming trends. Devon is one of the few names to remain solidly neutral and something people will still willingly name their boy babies as well as girls.

All in all, it felt right, seemed like a name that both suited me and on that was appropriate for me to claim, it looked and sounded good with my last name, and it only evoked positive memories of other people for me. I'm so fortunate that I didn't google the name Devon Price before choosing it, because if I had, I wouldn't have become close friends with another social psychologist nearly my exact same age who has the same name and occupation as me.

I've had many names in the past and I don't view any of them as dead names or anything I feel any need to conceal from people. Part of me does experience regret over trying to distance myself from my dad and my hillbilly family by getting rid of their surname in favor of Price. At the time that I made that choice, when I was eighteen, some of it was motivated by a desire for respectability and a shame over my family's class background and how I might be perceived within academia. My current public-facing name is very friendly to being an academic and a noted public thinker, and I think it's kinda wack that I've profitted off of that. Sometimes I think if I ever attain enough notoriety that it becomes a real problem I'll switch back to my old last name to disappear into obscurity and reclaim the sides of myself that I used to run from, and the family that has largely died out.

[brokestrapmountain]

Jus curious, what makes you think Boris would be okay with cheating? When he thought Kotku cheated on him, he got super pissed off. And he stopped hooking up with Theo after he started dating Kotku. Just my thoughts, I’m curious on yours!

oh this is really interesting!! so I personally feel like kotku as a character was someone who boris loved (in boris’s own way, I see him as the type of person that loves every person he meets) yet also used as a tool to pull himself away from theo. he became aware of their patterns and wanted distance. I believe that boris felt a little shitty about theo’s destructive behavior considering he started his path towards drug addiction and alcohol abuse, and because he cares so much about theo, he wanted what was best for him. we know that boris would suffer throughout his own loneliness due to his entire arc of staying away when he thought theo knew he stole the painting. I kind of see his absence in vegas as a foreshadowing. he didn’t stop hooking up with theo out of loyalty towards kotku, it was out of concern for theo

as for him being super pissed off when he thought Kotku was cheating on him, well…. I think that was out of misogyny tbh. I know we all like to paint boris out as some sort of king who respects women but he does NOT. He doesn’t mind smacking them around (probably due to his parents’ own implied problems) and or seeing women as property, something to be owned for his own masculinity. Do I think boris is some straight macho man? Absolutely not!! he let kotku paint his nails and is generally flamboyant at times, but there was still the urge to be looked at as a REAL man, such as his fascination with larry, the total role model he constantly looked for in his own father

I don’t think Boris was very loyal towards his wife (whom I do believe exists. boris is a liar but I don’t think that he would feel the need to make up some fake wife to impress theo) due to his own obvious misogyny. Sure he probably got better at respecting women once he became an adult, sees them as actual people, but he is a crime lord. The dude is constantly moving around and probably just wants to get his dick wet for some stress relief. Sorry this was such a complicated post for me to just say; misogyny, but it’s how I feel!! He’s never seen a valid relationship between a man or a woman (or anyone for that matter) and the topic of infidelity would seem natural to him. Why have one bitch when you can have five?

[rreskk]

Heyyy ! Could you make a drunk Trevor (because he let Patricia left) at Reader's bar where they finished the night together and Reader couldn't go because Trevor wrapped his arms around her hips because he doesn't want to be abandoned ?

A/N: Thank fuck it is the weekend and I can catch up on writing. I enjoyed writing this one very much. Thank you! I might make a sequel to this... I have quite the ideas.

Summary: You grew a soft spot for a newly drunk customer.

The regular night shift at your bar in Los Santos became not so regular… Ever since this rather tall and wrecked man walked in, he has been chugging all the drinks you’ve offered and even attached himself to you. Physically.

His dirty clothes and gut-wrenching smell had led you to wonder where this guy had come from. The more drunk he got, the more open he gets and this “Patricia” person keeps on getting mentioned. It was your policy not to get personally get involved with the customers but this one man made it a life-long struggle for you to escape him. He’d lean over the counter and practically tower over you.

“One more please.” He slurred with tears streaming down his face.

You had the ability to decline anymore drinks as he is already intoxicated and you are trying to persuade him to leave, considering it was closing time.

“I’m sorry but we can’t let you drink anymore, sir.” You politely smiled, reaching out your hand to collect his empty class but he grasped your fingers and melted into them; sobbing his aching heart out.

You cringed- hoping that one of your employees would rescue you like a damsel in distress- but they were all busy shutting the place off for the night.

“I didn’t wan’ her to leave,” The man sniffled and buried his face in your shaking palm. “Everyone leaves! No one even stays for dear old Trevy Trev…”

You felt his tears stain your already damp hand. If you weren’t already uncomfortable, he was ranting and talking to your through mumbles that you can barely hear.

“I’m really sorry, I am, but it is closing time. I’ll happily call you a cab, yeah?” You offered with a cheap smile.

He glanced up with a quizzical expression, scanning your eyes to your lips. His lips wobbled but remained tight together. He nodded his head.

You were beyond relieved and motioned him to the front entrance, holding his arm as he was stumbling across the floor with no sense of direction or control. He felt himself trip and quickly grabbed your waist; saving himself from a nasty fall.

“Shit,” You grunted at the sudden impact of him on you. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t respond but gasped when you both hit the crisp air. The night was young and you pulled out your phone to dial the cab services. The drunk eyed you with his fascinating eyes. You successfully asked for a cab and went to look at him. That’s when you realised how interesting he looked.

Under the street lights, his face was dim but you couldn’t help finding him oddly attractive. Though he looked utterly in despair, his masculine jaw and dark facial features brought a funny sensation in your stomach. He looked downright dirty and filthy, but in a sexy way.

You cleared your throat. “The cab is coming.”

Whether he meant to, he fell with open arms and embraced your whole body. You gurgled out quietly- being surprised at the sudden contact with this stranger.

“You’ll neva’ leave me, right?” He accidentally wailed loudly.

You rubbed his back in an awkward manner. “You are welcome here always.”

You were so glad he was too drunk to notice your uncomfortable demeanour as he took your words to heart, confessing his life story all over again… For the 10th time running. That’s when he paused.

“I didn’t say my name, ay?”

“I don’t think you did.” You whispered back.

“Trevor.”

Trevor. It had a ring to it. You repeated it in your head.

“That is a very lovely name.”

Trevor’s arms were still around your hips.

“What is your name?”

You laughed and tried to shrug it off but he was dead serious.

“I’m Y/N.” You gave in with a sigh.

He hummed. “You’ll never leave me, will ya Y/N?”

As the subject of abandonment appeared again, the cab drove up to the curb and beeped. You could almost dance at how happy you were before realising Trevor. He barely moved an inch. He was stone cold around you.

“Trevor, your cab.”

He shook his head stubbornly and glared daggers at the driver who was growing impatient. The anger in his eyes felt so real that it made you shudder.

“Trevor, I really got to close off for the night.” You warned him.

He slowly detangled himself from you but painfully took slow steps towards the taxi. His eyes pinned onto you. What were you supposed to do in this situation? You wanted to wave him off but you’d seem desperate.

“Bye Trevor.” You decided to say.

The man crawled into the back and set off without another word. How interesting he was… You began hoping he’d return, in a less depressive mood. He seemed adventurous and quite the party animal from the way he’d cope with the amount of alcohol in his system. You came to a stop and began closing the messy bar; wanting the man to return on another day.