#and and i love butches so so so much and if i’m a man how can i love butches? like

[vagrantclown]

Screaming crying throwing up what the fuck is a gender

[lovebloods]

.

[pebblezone]

this Tylenol ain’t shit w

[sketchraptor]

I had to pee so bad at the end of the movie… and I was still upset that it had ended when it did

Spiderverse thots

[butch-bf]

yeah we all know (and love <3) all the butches with masculine personality; and let me make it clear that you’re all loved and valid!! but let’s talk about butches that cannot or simply don’t want to get rid of their “feminine” traits and energy.

like seriously i could never kill a spider without screaming or change your car’s tire but i’ll definitely cook you the best dinner when you get home from work and i’ll be more than happy to stitch the holes of your favorite shirt, with all the patience in the world; because that’s how my mother and my grandmother used to show their love to me. i could never ever ever imagine being affectionate to someone in any other way.

something that always bothered me as a transmasc butch was the fact that everyone would clock me the moment i opened my mouth, which is already something that causes me waaaay too much dysphoria. so, i would try to “compensate” that by being the most masculine being that i could ever be. but deep down, i knew that i wasn’t being fully me, you know?

not being “masculine enough” would often make me feel like i wasn’t butch enough, that i wasn’t doing the “job” correctly or something. at least where i’m from, people expect me to fill that role and pretty much just act like a man 24/7.

but as i was cooking some dinner for myself and my mom tonight, something hit me; i’ll never be 100% masculine when it comes to my traits, my energy or even the way i speak. i’ll protect you, i’ll be there for you and i’ll try my best to intimidate whoever tries something bad with you. but sometimes, maybe i’d wanna be protected too; maybe i’d wanna be the little spoon every now and then; maybe i’ll cry in front of you and expect you to dry my tears. and that won’t ever make me less masculine or less butch.

i hope that my future partner understands that, no matter what happens; at the end of the day, i’ll still be your guy. i’ll just be a sensitive guy, you know? it’s kinda scary to admit this out loud but i feel like someone out there would like to know that they’re not alone. butches come in all shapes and forms, and it may be scary to be this kind of butch in a world where masculinity is praised, but i think we’ll be fine.

and also my dinner was so delicious what the fuckkk 🤤🤤🤤 i’m such a good cook like i genuinely believe i’m the butch version of guy fieri

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

I’ve seen someone else mention this, but I also wanted to talk about this

The erasure of queerness in the movie is something I definitely did not expect.

Sure, it’s a love story between two men, but grab Alex and Henry and make them a man and a woman, the movie doesn’t change much. Maybe monarchy instead of being homophobic and racist now it’s only racist, and they hate Alex not because he’s a man but because he’s brown. They kept it a secret because of monarchy’s racism, but love triumphs at the end. That’s why the movie didn’t hit as hard as the book. The movie is just some forbidden love movie, rwrb is a book where the main characters are in a forbidden relationship, but it’s not the whole point of the book.

Alex discovering his sexuality, Nora being bisexual, whatever Pez had going on, whatever June and Nora had going on, Alex learning about queer history, the historical lgbt love letters at the ends of their e-mails, all the references to queer history and literature, THE SHELTERS, monarchy’s homophobia (yes, it appears on the movie but it’s really glossed over. It doesn’t show just how homophobic they actually are in the book), Alex stating how he knows more about himself the more intimate (both in the sexual and non sexual sense) he is with Henry, Luna being gay and unapologetic about it and being exactly Alex’s queer role model, even before Alex knew he was queer himself, THE FUCKING SHELTERS

I’m so so mad about the shelters being missing.

Henry and Pez made shelters for lgbt youth, so they can never feel as alone as Henry once felt, so they can always have a safe space so they know there’s nothing wrong with them no matter what the adults in their life might say, no matter what the preacher or their classmates or the right wing politicians in their tv might say, where they can find hope, and friends, and a home if they never had one before, or at least, one where they could truly be themselves. The shelters are, I would say, crucial to Henry’s character development. He went from hiding, believing being gay was “the most unforgivable part of him”, not even trying to come out because he just succumbed to live an unhappy life in the closet, to someone who’s out, living with his boyfriend and running lgbt shelters with his best friend so young queer people can move past all the things he felt and believed time ago, so they know they are perfectly normal and loved and safe in there, as long as Henry and Pez are there they’re safe, they don’t have to hide anymore.

Henry became the queer elder he needed in his life when he was younger. The lgbt adult who could tell him than it would get better, no matter how bad it was at the moment, no matter if he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, because it was there, he just had to hold on a bit more. Than there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

Another thing than I seen changed than a normal person might not notice, but I did, because im obsessed, is the karaoke scene.

In the book, it takes place in something resembling a gay bar (maybe not exactly, but it’s full of queer people), and look at this

Three rounds of shots appear —one from a drunk bachelorette party, one from a herd of surly butch chicks at the bar, and one from a table of drag queens. They raise a toast, and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

Look again

and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

This book is about about finding community, finding yourself, finding love and letting yourself accept that love.

Do you think Alex in the movie has felt “more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies” at any point? Has he been with another queer person in the whole movie, except Henry, at all?? Because Nora’ sexuality was not mentioned at all no references nothing and with the whole Pez thing everyone could see Nora as just straight

Henry and Alex in the movie are kind of without community, alienated from it, they are, in my personal opinion, the kind of gay people republicans would consider “good gay people” who “don’t shove it on everyone’s faces and just wanna be left alone” (in the rwrb universe where they exist and are real not actual republican people watching the movie). They don’t really take a role on the community, in the book, Alex and Henry being queer is an important part of themselves, again, Alex feeling like he knows himself better, Henry whole internalized homophobia, their shared interest for lgbt history and literature, Henry and Pez making the shelters, etc etc meanwhile in the movie Alex and Henry just happen to be gay and bisexual, but it’s no deeper than that.

And don’t get me started on creating Miguel, a queer character, and making him the one to leak the e-mails or smth instead of a republican candidate

[cloama]

This Pride post is dedicated to the masc identity.

Soft butches. Hard butches. The girls who look like my uncle Butch. The trans men who look like my uncle Butch. My actual uncle Butch (RIP). The studs who are indeed their own separate group and bring so much to Black culture but get no credit. Y’all are the reason men’s street fashion exists. They were not wearing crossbody ”chest piece” bags before y’all!!! I am your witness.

Shout out to the lesbians who manage the fuck out of a retail store. Corporate polo gang, I see you. Shout out to my lesbian line cooks and chefs. Every lesbian in a male dominated field, I see you! When I see y’all I know I’m gonna have a good experience. I be feeling so safe!

Happy Pride to the teen who can’t wait to move out so they can dress and wear their hair how they want. Missing out of their youth self expression rite is hard. Almost there, honey.

Lastly, let’s light a candle for all the trans men who keep getting shocked by how lonely it is to be a man among men. Go hang out with the same women and queers who loved you before, silly. You’ll live.

See y’all outside ✌🏾

[grabattheseballsss]

Random fic wanted to post

Synopsis: gojo’s been hopelessly in love with you the day he met you, but you’re hopelessly in love with the blond that barely every paid attention to you

Pairing: Gojo x reader (unrequited) Nanami x reader (unrequited)

Warnings: angst???? I think??? Unrequited love, these butches are HOPELESS, reader is like, naturally touchy and gentle? Girl id be in love too if someone was this nice to me, Shoko and Geto are tired of yall, super mild and lackluster fic, but I wanted to post it anyways

A/N: never wrote angst before :P I wanna start doing some now hehe, feedback’s always welcome!

“And this, is Nanami Kento! He may be emo but we still love him” gojo chuckled as he introduced you to his friend group, you smiled sheepishly and waved to everyone, but your eyes couldn’t trail off of the blond who only gave you a polite nod and went back to his book.

You were the new girl, a foreigner, a shy pretty girl who was too scared to make any friends, that is until a white haired boy came up to you on lunchtime at the cafeteria, you only smiled awkwardly as you made your way to the only empty table available, all the way back, you were about to eat your food before you heard someone call your name

“Heyyy~ new girl! What’s up! I’m Gojo Satoru, but I’m sure you already know that” he chuckled as he hyped himself up jokingly, you laughed a little and introduced yourself to him

“What’re you doing all by yourself ? Come with me, come I’ll introduce you to my friends! You’ll love them, not as much as me though, promise ?” He winked at you and put the lid of your lunchbox back on and went to grab your hand before you stopped in place “please please, just gimme a minute, I got soup in my lunch box you didn’t close it properly” you grumbled and close the container and put it neatly back in your bag.

Gojo didn’t think you’d want to hold his hand after that, which made him put his arms down by his sides, but to his surprise you held his hand gently and smiled gently at him “lead the way!” You didn’t think twice of that moment but that was when Saturo started developing feelings for you, you were too focused on your bag to notice the blush that settled on his face.

Time forward to now, it’s been almost three months since Gojo introduced you to him and his friends, it’s been three months since you met that blond who you’ve been writing in your journal about, three months of you and Shoko’s endless sleepovers, three months of Geto and Gojo’s bickering which is often induced by Shoko and defused by you.

You smiled slightly as you watched the two continue to throw petty insults at each other, Shoko only laughing and Nanami sat there with a slight smirk as he shook his head, his lips were so pretty, his skin so effortlessly clear, his hair’s so soft and neat despite his stupid haircut, his deep brown eyes that turn to look at you, the way he said your name, how smooth it sounded on his lips

“Are you okay?” Kento asked, staring at you with a raised brow, your eyes widen as a heat started spreading on your face, you straightened your posture and nodded “yeah, y-yeah I’m sorry, just lost in thought” you replied and looked away

Shoko started whispering in your ear when Nanami turned around “I know what those thoughts are, perv~” she chuckled as you smacked her shoulder to stop, the embarrassing encounter left Gojo silent, ignoring Geto’s remarks as he watched you blush the same way he does when you look at him with those half lidded eyes as you take care of his wounds, or when you buy him a treat because you remembered he liked it, all of these sweet moments.

If only he knew what he lacked, he was born into wealth, he was extraordinary, the strongest, a damn model in his free time, he could give you the world and more, if you’d just turn your gaze to his pretty face instead.

———

“Happy birthday, dear sa-toooo-ruuuu” you all sang as you watched the white haired man blow out his candles, clapping as he took off the candles, number two and one put to the side as he started cutting the pink strawberry vanilla cake.

Everyone got handed a plate with a piece of cake, you and Shoko sat on the small couch, chatting and eating “you know… he’s not going to know that you’ve been pining after him if you avoid him at all costs” Shoko mumbled as she stole a strawberry off of your plate, you hummed as you looked up to see Kento chatting up with a random girl that was invited to the party by Saturo.

You didn’t want to bum anyone up, that felt so selfish and rude of you, so you excused yourself, then went back to Shoko to give her the rest of your cake and walking back out.

You walked to Saturo who was sitting by Geto, they seemed to be chuckling about some random inside joke, you grabbed your gift bag and walked to them.

“Birthday boyyy~” you called out, your voice now sounded so much different than all those years ago, you sounded more mature and sure of yourself, saturo looked up at you with a huge smile, Geto only smiled and waved at you.

You stood in front of gojo and handed him a pink and blue bag with a letter taped to it “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pick out a proper gift” you chuckled a little before grabbing a chair and sitting down.

“I didn’t think you’d even make it” Geto said as he grabbed his glass

“Well, if she couldn’t make it, I was going to drag her by the leg” saturo joked, but you all knew he wasn’t.

As saturo unpacked the gift inside the bag, he seemed like a kid on Christmas Day, you smiled softly as he held the box with sudden care, he looked up at you so fast his glasses slid down his nose, which made you and Geto chuckle “WHAT!” Saturo screamed, making everyone stare at you both, his long arms scooped you up and pulled you into a tight hug.

Getting a gift for someone like Gojo would seem absolutely impossible, he was rich and had anything he could ever ask for, but not the pictures he had lost couple of years ago, the one of you, him and baby megumi in your living room, dressed up as random characters, from megumi as shrek, you as Fiona and of course Gojo as donkey, the one of you and Gojo sitting on the ground as megumi has a sign on the couch that says “losers not allowed on”, and of course, satoru’s favourite, the one of you and megumi in the kitchen making cookies, megumi eating cookie dough as you were covered in flour and scolding him, unaware of the camera.

He lost the card that had those photos years ago, and you found it earlier this year and decided to keep it a surprise for him.

You hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek “seriously, happy birthday, turo… thank you, for being my friend” you smiled as you cupped his blushing cheek “now go taught gumi with them, I know you’re itching to do so” you giggled as you patted his shoulder and walked back to where Shoko was sitting.

You both missed the way Shoko and Geto looked at each other with a sad knowing look before turning back and continuing their separate conversations.

[lycandrophile]

if you feel comfortable sharing, how do you identify now?

mostly, i just call myself a trans man now. i really haven’t spent too much time trying to find a word to replace transmasc in my vocabulary.

i haven’t really fully disidentified with transmasc either. when people talk about transmascs as a collective, i still consider myself part of the group they’re talking about. i still describe the process i’m going through as a transmasculine transition. and transmasculinity as a concept, as something lived and embodied, is still really important to me and my understanding of my gender. it’s less that i feel no connection to the word “transmasc” and more that just saying “i am transmasc” doesn’t really accurately describe the way i relate to the word anymore.

it’s partly because i just…don’t consider myself to be all that masculine. i’ve never been particularly feminine either, but even femininity is something i can at least put on for a little while; masculinity is a complete mystery to me in a lot of ways. i don’t know how to do it. and i’m not just talking about cisheteronormative masculinity either — i have so much admiration (and often envy) for the butches and bears and drag kings and other people who embody queer masculinity, but that doesn’t come naturally to me either. so it feels weird to identify myself using a word that puts so much emphasis on masculinity when i don’t see myself that way and i doubt anyone who knows me would either. i’ve played around with using transandrogynous instead for that reason, and i think that’s probably the most accurate alternative.

but i still mostly just find myself not really caring about defining myself on the basis of masculinity, femininity, androgyny, or any of those concepts because none of them are as important to me as the fact that i’m a man. whether my presentation would be best described as masculine, feminine, or androgynous can and does change from day to day, month to month, year to year. but regardless of which way i present myself, i’m always a man. that’s always what i want people to know about me. the underlying assumption of my manhood is what makes me comfortable exploring femininity and androgyny at all. so if i have to define myself, why not just say i’m a trans man?

it’s also partly because the way people define the word transmasc has shifted in the years since i first came out and started describing myself that way. when i first learned it, it was pretty much universally understood as an umbrella term that included (but also extended beyond) trans men. so when i started identifying as a man, transmasc remained a broader but still accurate identity. but now, i see more and more people defining trans men and transmascs as two distinct groups, and while there is still a general understanding that trans men can be and often are transmasc, there are also a lot more people who assume that if you describe yourself as one, you must implicitly be excluding yourself from the other. and because my identity as a man is so important to me, i’m not comfortable with saying “i’m transmasc” if people might assume me saying that means I’m not also a man.

and i think it’s partly because transmasc is a label i leaned on a lot when i was at a point where part of me recognized that i was a man, but i resisted calling myself a man because of all the baggage that came along with that. it was a compromise — a way to get “close enough” to what i actually felt, to get people to use the right words for me and get the right idea about me, without having to say “i am a man”. because back then, manhood was something inherently worse in my mind and the minds of the people i surrounded myself with than the nonbinary identity i’d been claiming until that point. but now, i don’t feel that way at all. i love manhood and men and being a man! so for me, letting go of transmasc as a label and giving myself permission to just say i’m a man has been an important part of accepting the fact that i am a man and learning that being a man isn’t a “bad” way to be trans.

basically, my identity hasn’t really changed at all, i just realized that saying “i’m transmasc” is a less accurate way of describing my gender than just saying “i’m a trans man”.

now, that’s not to say i don’t have other ways of describing my identity or that my understanding of my identity hasn’t changed a lot recently, but that’s a whole other can of worms and god knows this answer is long enough already. suffice to say, my gender is much more complicated than 100% Binary Man, Same Gender As A Cis Man, but i don’t worry about explaining that to every person i come across. if someone is so unfamiliar with me that they have to ask me to define my gender in the first place, then as far as they’re concerned, i’m just some fucking guy.

[venus-haze]

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? (Foxy Coltrane x Reader)

Summary: It’s Halloween, 1985, and your Little Red Riding Hood costume catches the attention of the Midnight Wolfman himself.

Note: Female (incredibly unhinged) reader. Foxy calls the reader “Red” because of the Halloween costume, not due to any physical descriptors. I've literally been working on this since February🫠 Anyway, this is for all the old man fuckers out there🖤 Except if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Discussions of canon typical violence. Sexually explicit content involving semi-public play, oral sex (m. receiving) and light roleplaying elements.

October 31, 1985

As soon as you walked into the bar up the road from your place, you immediately wanted to walk out. Having no other plans for Halloween night, you figured you could make the best of going solo. Wore a cute little costume to see where the night led you. Somehow you ended up in a bar where no one else was dressed up for the holiday that called for it. At least, not to the extent you were. Sure, it was a mass-produced Little Red Riding Hood costume you bought on your way home from work, but you made it your own with some makeup and cute heels you dug out of your closet.

You trudged over to the bar, soon nursing your drink and your hurt feelings. With your lip pouted in a slight sulk, you looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a man approached. Dark eyes locked on you. Sly grin on his face. Older, handsome in a scruffy way that your friends always teased you for being into.

You craned your neck to look up at him from your barstool. He sure as hell had that going for him too.

“I dig your costume, Little Red.”

You smiled. “Thanks. Seems like I’m the only one here who got the memo that it’s Halloween.”

“Hell, Halloween is everyday for me,” he said.

“You got a name?”

“You can call me the Midnight Wolfman.” He threw his head back and bellowed out a howl.

Your eyes widened. Heart might’ve skipped a beat. 

Shouts and cheers punctuated the sound, a few of the bar patrons following his lead with weak howls of their own. 

He was probably crazy. Or drunk. Likely both. But fuck, why else would you have gone out on Halloween?

“Buy me a drink, Wolfman?” 

“Glad to, Red.” 

He sat down at the stool next to you, long legs splayed out as one of his boots rested between your heels on your footrest. He claimed your space so easily, you nearly forgot you’d only just met him.

Two shared shots of whiskey later, your face was warm as he leaned in to talk. His easy drawl lured you closer, knees touching, close enough that you could see yourself in his steel blue gaze. You nearly suggested finding a booth to squeeze into. 

Your mind raced with visions of him pulling you onto his lap, his big hands all over you, lips attached to your neck while the other bar patrons were none the wiser.

“Most people call me Foxy, though,” he said.

You furrowed your brows, hoping you hadn’t been fantasizing through too much of the conversation. “Foxy?”

“That’s my name. Winslow Foxworth Coltrane.”

“I like it. Sounds like an F. Scott Fitzgerald character or something.”

“Who’s that?”

“He wrote The Great Gatsby.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that one, had Redford in it. Kind of a snoozefest if you ask me. I mean, hard to follow up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” he said. “What kind of movies are you into, Red?”

“I love horror, especially the gory shit,” you said before you could think twice. 

He grinned, giving you a nod of approval. “Right on.”

“My favorite is probably The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Have you seen that one?”

“Yeah, it was great. Reminds me of my family.”

You laughed. “No kidding.”

His smile wavered, and for the first time all night it felt like you two weren’t on the same wavelength. Had you missed something in your half-drunk stupor? Was there something he mentioned that you fantasized through?

“Um, how about you?” you asked, trying to salvage the connection. “Westerns?”

“I’m into the classics, like those old monster movies.”

“Well, you’re way more handsome than Lon Chaney, Wolfman.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m the real deal, baby.”

“I believe it.”

“Yeah?”

You licked your lips. “With a howl like yours? Makes a girl think you could eat her alive.”

“C’mere,” he growled, pulling you to him. 

His lips were on yours, wild and passionate that would keep you up the rest of the night even if nothing else happened. The way he had his hands on you, though, bringing you closer to him, deepening the kiss so you could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the very same he bought you, made you certain he wanted the night to end exactly the same way you did.

He pawed at your ass, his hands pushing up your short, red, satin skirt until your panties peaked out. You moaned when his fingers brushed the wet spot on the fabric, pushing against your clit. Fuck the notion of a getting busy in a back booth, you were ready to let him take you up against the bar if you weren’t so rudely interrupted.

“Hey, c’mon,” the bartender said, looking equally disturbed and exasperated. “You guys can’t—”

Foxy slammed his palm onto the bar, nearby glasses rattling on impact. “Motherfucker, if you don’t get out of my girl’s face I’ll crack your skull open.”

A smile twitched across your lips.

“Get out before I call the cops. Both of you.”

Foxy stood up. “Think I’m scared of some fuckin’ pigs?” Grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed it against the bar. Before you could blink, the jagged edge was pressed against the bartender’s throat. If anyone noticed what was going on, they sure as hell weren’t trying to intervene. “By the time they get here I could gut you like a fish.” 

A delirious thrill rolled down your spine at the gleam in Foxy’s eyes. 

“Look man, you—you don’t even have to pay for the drinks. Just go, alright?”

Deathly silence fell over the altercation, the bartender glancing between Foxy’s wild face and the broken bottle.

Do it, a dark, repressed part of you, ravenous for blood, hissed.

Foxy laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, man.” He threw his arm around you, letting the broken bottle shatter on the floor as he led you out.

“Don’t come back!”

“I wouldn’t shit here if I ate a gas station hot dog, asshole,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You pulled your polyester cloak a little tighter when you walked outside. Damn, you and Foxy probably looked like one hell of a pair to the people just getting to the bar.

The two of you stood in the middle of the parking lot while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t eat gas station hot dogs if I can help it. Give me indigestion. My ol’ man—well, adopted ol’ man—he used to make a mean fried chicken at his gas station,” he said, taking a drag. “Get a hankering for the stuff sometimes, and KFC sure as hell doesn’t cut it. Guess Colonel Sanders’ get-up is better than dressing like a clown, though.”

You interjected his rambling, “You would’ve done it, wouldn’t you? The bartender—”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.” He stared you down, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He took a long drag, smoke rolling from his lips and circling above his head as he asked, “You afraid of the big bad Wolfman, Red?”

“Terrified.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then show me.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine. Yours. I don’t know—I need you, Foxy.” Your voice neared a whine. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Say that again.”

“I need you.” You tugged on his shirt. “Foxy, c’mon.”

“Yours. I can’t drive at night for shit.”

You grabbed him by the arm, practically pulling him over to your car. 

Jamming the key into the lock, you couldn’t open the driver’s side door fast enough, quickly unlocking the passenger door for him. Your hands would’ve been shaking if you weren’t gripping the steering wheel within an inch of your life as you peeled out of the parking lot the moment he finished adjusting the seat, moving it as far back as it could go to accommodate his long legs. 

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Foxy asked.

“Sure. I don’t live far, though. Should only be ten minutes.”

He fiddled with the stations until a late night news broadcast mentioned the name Otis Driftwood. He paused before sitting back.

“‘Free the Three’ demonstrations in support of the notorious Devil’s Rejects death cult continue well into the night.”

The reporter detailed the Fireflys’ crimes, as if anyone could have missed them. Hundreds of gruesome murders to their names. You, just like everyone else in America, had been glued to the story when it broke. All work practically came to a halt when their trials were going on, obvious guilty verdicts amidst a media circus.

“What do you think of ‘em?” Foxy asked, breaking the silence.

“The Fireflys?”

“Yeah.”

You glanced at him, tearing your eyes off the road for a moment to gauge how he’d react to your answer. “I guess what they did is fucked up, but the police and military have done way worse. Like, Otis Driftwood never dropped nukes on entire cities,” you said. “Why?”

“That’s my family.”

“Really?”

“Well, Otis is my half-brother. The rest of ‘em are all adopted.”

You looked at him again. Then the road. Then him in disbelief. “Then you—“

“Told you I was the real deal, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you get caught?”

“I was already in the can. Crazy how that shit happens, huh?”

You hit the gas, accelerating from 50 to 85 in a flash. No cops. Didn’t matter. Foxy could handle them if there were. You pressed your thighs together. Almost considered pulling over and just fucking in the backseat. But where was the fun in that? The excitement? The vulnerability of letting a killer into your home, where you’re supposed to be safe, and hoping to god he wouldn’t see your kitchen knives and get some bright ideas? You moaned. Oh god. You moaned.

“Red?”

“I know, Foxy. I’m going as fast as I can.” Your voice was whiny, high-pitched, desperate. “Piece of shit car—”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that a turn off?”

“Hell no.”

——

You nearly dropped your keys by the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, Foxy feeling you up from behind while you fumbled with them, obviously amused by your racing pulse and trembling hands.

“Cool place,” he said when he walked inside. “You got any roommates or—”

You pushed him against the front door, your mouth on his, desperate, hungry for anything he’d give you. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped the bulge in his jeans. He groaned into your mouth, and you squeezed gently, feeling his cock strain against the rough denim.

“Don’t tease,” he growled.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through.” You kneeled in front of him, moving to untie your cloak while he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, “leave the costume on.”

“Whatever you want, Wolfman.”

He pulled his cock from his boxers, big enough to be intimidating at first glance. But he was a killer, part of the Firefly clan, for god's sake, you wouldn't falter, instead mustering up the courage you had to even invite him home in the first place.

“My, what a big cock you have,” you teased, taking it in your hand, spreading the precum at his tip with your thumb while slowly pumping his length.

“All the better to fuck that pretty mouth with, Red.”

You licked your lips, holding eye contact with him as you took him in your mouth. Something primal about him, inherently dangerous. He’d killed people before, probably done far worse. Could change his mind at any time and cause you a world of hell. You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache in your core for hopes he’d take care of it if you did a good enough job. With the way he dug his fingers into your scalp, loud curses and praises falling from his mouth, you weren’t doing half bad.

“Midnight Wolfman’s got you right where he wants you, huh, Red? Turned you into his little bitch?” he taunted. “C’mon, gimme a howl.”

You whined around his cock, choking a bit when he thrust in your mouth. You liked this version of the story a hell of a lot better. No one to save you. Just you, in your Little Red Riding Hood costume, and the wolf, his crooked teeth bared as he hissed through them, grinning down at you. And you brought him there. Invited him into your home knowing he could tear you apart if he wanted to—maybe you wanted him to.

“You’re a good slut, ain’t you?” He groaned. His cock twitched in your mouth, you could feel the salty taste of him on your tongue as he came with a howl. “Take it all, Red—fuck, take it.” As if you had much of a choice but to swallow, but his praise went to your head, to your pussy. “Fuck, you’re like a dream come true.”

Pulling back, sitting on your heels, you looked up at him with a newfound predatory gleam in your eye as he caught his breath.

“By the way,” you said, acutely aware of the wet ache between your thighs, “I live alone, if you wanna return the favor.”

[blueinkjpeg]

Okay but one thing I really like about Kit’s characterization is that she’s the antithesis to the Disney princess stereotype but also fills the stereotype perfectly?? But also in a way that subverts the troupe??

Like okay, we can guess from her line about how she wishes she were “anyone but a princess” and the general way she acts that Kit has a complex relationship with femininity. I’m mostly just speculating, but it’s probably just because she associates most feminine traits she has or is forced into with her royal title, and so hates it all.

Being a princess political and socially demands a few immovable things. Having the patience and emotional bandwidth to run a nation, present herself in a distinctly feminine and uptight way, and marrying specifically a man her mother chose so that she can give birth to precautionary heirs.

These are all things Kit is incapable, or relatively incapable, of doing. Kit, just base personality wise, isn’t a patient person. She doesn’t think ahead most of the time, and she doesn’t have the interest in learning it. Also, she’s literally a lesbian and if she goes through with the marriage her mom set up, is doomed to a life of misery and unfulfillment, not to mention that the s*x part of the marriage will be traumatic no matter how it happens. And I literally cannot imagine her as a mom, sorry. Forcing Kit into this role is like trying to shove a circle into the square hole of those baby toys.

I can only imagine Sorsha trying to continuously shove Kit into this role that she cannot fufill would leave Kit frustrated with herself for being unable to fit, and hating anything having to do with it. Like— the whole reason Kit was born was to fill this role. Imagine being physically and emotionally incapable of doing the one thing you were born to do? Kit’s never feeling good enough trauma is just apparent in the show as her abandonment issues. Despite knowing she can’t fill this role and clearly not trying to anymore, doesn’t mean she doesn’t hold a lot of frustration with herself for it.

As an obvious butch, I think Kit would end up in her style no matter how her life turned out, but I also think that the more her mom pushed Kit toward femininity where Kit wasn’t able to fit correctly, the more Sorsha ended up actually pushing Kit in the opposite direction. Frustrated she can’t go one way, she’s clearly ended up going the opposite way.

Just like when her mother didn’t want her to learn sword fighting, she sought a way to learn “on her own” with Jade. Kit isn’t really an authority person. She likely sees it as getting farther away from her mother, and closer to her dad, like how she lost her mom’s sword and picked up her dad’s in the show.

But it’s not just fashion, Kit’s shown distain for “feminine traits” (or traditional Disney princess traits wink wink) she has in her personality. The most obvious example is Kit’s feelings for Jade. They’re very deeply ingrained onto who she is as a person. They’re raw and venerable and Kit goes like five whole episodes after kissing Jade to even consider talking about them. Kit goes lengths to avoid talking or confronting her deeper emotions.

But it remains that Kit feels things very deeply. When Sorsha yells at Arik and Kit in episode 1, Kit’s the only one that starts crying. She loves Jade so much, and is so afraid of being rejected, that when she confesses, she also starts crying. When locked in a cage thinking Jade might be in trouble, she freaks out on Elora. On truth strum, she borderline begs Elora for advice. When she finds out her dad might be alive and that he thinks Elora is “what matters most in this world,” she breaks down and yells. She uses the power of love to save Arik’s life.

Girl cannot hold a grudge to save her life, btw. She’s so pissed at her mom episode 1, the next morning she’s crying at her bedside because she’s worried Sorsha might be upset with her. Jade says she’s abandoning her and Kit’s over it and kissing her on the lips in the span of a few hours. Kit apologizes to Graydon for being a bitch at the engagement dinner. She gets pissed at Boorman for potentially leaving her dad to die and then it’s literally never brought up again bc she’s over it. She tries soooo hard to be mad at Elora for mattering to both her parents more than Kit does, and fails miserably after like a week max.

She’s a teeny ball of rage but it’s not in her nature to hate people for whatever reason.

She’s a very sensitive person. So much so, that she has a quiet arc about how she can’t really stand death.

That possum she has to go fetch for Elora? She can’t even look at it. When the jar breaks and she has to go hold it in her hands? She’s pinching it a full arms length away from her body. As Elora’s cutting it up she’s physically gagging. She tries to talk about Ballentine with Jade, but she can’t even say the word “killed.” She tries SO hard to be macho and tough and be the one to kill Graydon, but Jade and Boorman both already knows she’s weak shit. Kit BAILS. It’s the moment of truth and Graydon’s dying and Kit ORDERS Jade not to kill him as she SOBS and BEGS Elora to figure out a way to save his life bc she can’t stand to watch him die. A throwing star hits her in the arm and she SCREAMS ANS PASSES OUT. Jade has to mentally prepare her to rip it out and she SCREAMS AGAIN. She’s the most reluctant person in the world to fight her brother. And when she wins the fight and tries to kill him, her body won’t even let her. When Elora tells her to stand down, Kit collapses into tears like she was praying someone would stop her.

And it’s clear at the beginning of the season, Kit hold a lot of resentment towards herself for having these traits. They’re not inherently feminine traits to have, but she associates them with being a princess and hates them on principle. She’s probably been told her whole life to be nicer, politer, more empathetic. She doesn’t want to be any of those things, she wants to be who she remembers her dad to be; a brave, admired, tough knight. Kit wants to be brave and strong and she thinks she can’t have that if she acts like Sorsha wants her to, since it’s clear Sorsha doesn’t want either of her kids to be like Madmartigan. She wants them to be a certain way, she wants them to be the opposite of the militaristic way she was raised. But the truth is, there’s nothing Kit can do about it. She is a sensitive, loving, empathetic person, that’s it. This is who she is, and her arc in this show is learning to be herself. All parts of herself.

Kit gets to love the venerable, sensitive parts of herself without giving up the masculine badass sword fighter that she’s always wanted to be, the way she assumed she’d have to. She gets to be both!!! She gets the cool ass armor and she can be emotionally available. She can express fear and love and still be brave and strong!!!

Kit emerges from this show at the heart of the questing gang. Y’all have no idea how much I love that.

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Reunion

The Great Shift is a well known event that had swapped over 90% of the world’s population! However, after the initial fallout and chaos, a few years later people began to acclimate to their lives. Though there were still moments where people were confronted with just how much they’ve changed.

“Ok Ned Nuno. No one is gonna remember you as Ned the know it all. It’s been years. People are mature and have their own lives.” Ned said to himself in the mirror. 

The young man looked back at his model like reflection. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it was him. Only a few years ago he was looking at his own bespectacled face with his receding hairline. Sure he’s what some would call cute and charming. He always had a knack for intelligent conversation. After college he embraced his intelligence even more and had the luxury to travel as he got older... but he couldn’t deny that his former body wasn’t turning any heads romantically. They’d haver to notice the 5 foot tall waifish man for that to happen. 

But now... that was no longer the case. All those years ago he was traveling at an airport when the Great Shift happened. One moment he was departing his plane, the next he was in a boarding area waiting to be seated!

Needless to say it was a shock. He’d gone from a smaller and dark skinned to a clearly white and very in shape young man! He later found that this guy was named Connor Duval and was  just 21 years old at the time! Still in college too. And... well those first few days he certainly had a lot to learn about his new form. 

However he couldn’t reminisce any further. He needed to get ready for his school’s 10 year reunion. He wasn’t the same timid nerd that people would pick on. He was braver! He’d seen the world! And wasn’t afraid!

- One ride to the school later -

“Ok. I’m afraid! Jackie! Are you here yet? I know this is the 2nd message I left for you on your phone, but I don’t want to be the only one here I know! You were always my best friend and I’m sorry I’m so nervous and-” Ned was pacing nervously outside of the building he once learned at, waiting to go in with his friend.

“Easy there poindexter. Your bestie is back.” A deep voice says spooking  Ned as he jumps.

“J-Jackie?” Ned asks nervously seeing the towering muscular figure beside him.

“In the flesh. I though I told you that I shifted into that big Ukrainian construction worker? I mean all the better for it right? None of your old bullies ever messed with you when you butch lesbian bestie was at your side.” Jackie said with a flex.

“I know. I know. You were always so open and brave with yourself It’s honestly inspiring. I’m sorry i was so shocked. I’m just nervous and it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. I hope your girlfriend is taking it ok.” Ned offers sympathetically.

“Yeah she loves it. She swapped into this bi goddess of a woman and works out with me a lot. Good thing too! I’m still only attracted to women and I have the best one sucking me off every night!” Jackie bragged. Previously her normal crude humor always let out a laugh from Ned, but now Ned trembled a bit as Jackie sounded just like those macho straight guys that bullied him.

“Aren’t you a little under dressed without um... a shirt?” Ned asks.

“Ha! Well you know. I thought about going nude. But I did pack a polo so i can be decent. Aren’t you over dressed Ned?”

“What!? I  couldn’t decide what to wear! I just chose one of my body’s outfits that still fits...” Ned blushes in his nice suit. Sure he was a 6 foot tall model with abs, but his indecision in outfits was ever present.

“Neverminded that anymore. Let’s get in there! You’re a tenured professor for Pete’s sake. And I’m a well known LGBT author. We got a lot to talk about.”

Jackie pulled Ned in with his surprising strength and they began to hear the music and mingling. Inside they were given name tags and soon saw the crowds of people that none of them recognized! One of the perks of the shift was that no one was ever mad when they didn’t recognize one another. In this case though Jackie and Ned’s eyes zeroed in on a few key people.

Stacy Skarsgaard was always known as the head cheerleader and total B. Her platinum blond hair and perky breasts getting her through life and landing her a cushy secretary job somewhere in the city, from what Jackie had heard. Now once again, as she was so many other times, she was blasted drunk and taking her top off. Only this time it revealed a powerful dark skinned chest with curly black hairs. Her perfectly shaved face saying, “And like. I”m already on my 4th husband and he totally worships me. Takes care of the kids and still tops me like a champ. Like. I totally see why gay guys do it all the time. I can’t stop. Any more martinis?”

Jackie snorts. “Where was that open mindedness when she tried to get student council to take down the LGBT Support Club? Freaking hypocrite. Their eyes then drifted to three men chest bumping and laughing.

“Are those guys Chad, Thad, and Grad?” Ned asks surprised. “Weren’t they... like the biggest guys on the football team?” Ned recalled the days when those beefy fat bodies would pound through the halls and shove him against lockers.

“Oh yeah. I heard they were working as assistant coaches at some college and ended up swapping with their respective school’s freshman swim team. They... certainly lost a lot of that freshmen 15 that we saw them with in university.” Jackie laughed admiring how they both towered over their former bullies, though Ned once again felt insecure about how much their abs looked better than his. Those three guys kept messing around but in different ways. Instead of belching and arm wrestling they were doing some handstands and showing how flexible they were. 

“Ok. Ned. Stop sulking and start catching up. You wanted to prove to yourself you could stand up to your past. Now is your chance. Next person to walk through that door is gonna be a new person you have to say Hi to ok?” Jackie commanded.

Ned gulped and looked at the door nervously and was in awe of who stepped in.

“Paul Bailey?” Ned said astonished. He’d recognize that familiar leather jacket anywhere.... he could still smell it as the closeted athlete wrapped his arms around him all those years ago under the bleachers after a big game. Neither have them had mentioned the night since, but that hadn’t stopped Ned from cherishing that memory.... as well as stalking him occasionally on social media seeing who he swapped with. 

Ned hadn’t realized he’d been staring that long as Paul immediately saw him and walked over. “Holy... Ned? Is that you. Wow you sure changed.” The man joked. His voice was different... but still so deep and smooth Ned nearly swooned.

“H-hey Paul. Guess we all have since the switch. You’re um... looking good.” Ned admitted, blushing. He missed his previous heritage that made these embarrassing actions less noticeable with his former darker skin. 

“Thanks. I guess I traded in my older pasty body for a new more bronze kind. I wasn’t expecting to swap with an Asian bodybuilder, but hey I was at the airport. Right or wrong place depending who you ask for the shift.” 

“Really? I was at the airport too when I shifted. It was kinda funny. I’d been traveling a lot since I got tenure as a professor, but the first thing I did when I shifted was trip. I guess no amount of travelling prepares you for suddenly having size 14 feet.” Ned laughs.

“Really? They do look big... dang. Those are like twice the size of your old ones.” Paul laughs too!

“Y-you remembered me that well?” The nerd felt touched.

“Of course,” Paul replied as it was his turn to blush. “Though hey! I got you beat with these size 17 wide feet. With these heavy muscle I nearly took out an entire cart of luggage.”

The two continued to laugh, comparing bodies, stories, and catching up. Jackie suddenly took her leave to be ogled by all of the female attendants.

Ned and Paul were having a great time walking around, having fun, and enjoying each other’s company.

Ned didn’t know that their bodies had met previously. That Connor was on the way to visit his boyfriend at the time... that miles away their original bodies were holding hands and laughing too... Ned couldn’t know that Paul had also been secretly keeping up with Ned after feeling bad about kissing and never calling...

But there are some things a know it all doesn’t know. Maybe it’ll be fun for him to start learning again. This time with someone both old/new.

[confessionsofamasc]

#1

I was born in a hospital that I drive by sometimes. I don’t understand gender or sex more than anyone. I’ve read a lot of theory. I’ve taken comfort in it. It hasn't changed my conditions, but it's granted me a sense of stability. The best of it offers clarification. The worst of it makes me feel like I don’t exist. It’s like anything, it’s complicated. It has made me suspicious of any unifying theory of gender, of simplification. That abstraction feels like more of the same. The reduction, the disappearance, the slow death. Everything begs the question and everyone is too afraid to try and answer it.

The more I read the more ambiguity I am able to accept in myself and others. It usually isn't reciprocated.

I’m a man. Right now my hair is long. It’s annoying, it gets in the way. Recently I was enjoying wearing feminine clothing, but not so much at the moment. I used to date women. I used to be a lesbian. I used to be butch, in a lot of ways I still am. I got myself into a lot of trouble that way. I sought out people who could see my maleness somewhere inside of my womanhood. This was fraught. I try not to blame myself. My maleness made me vulnerable and people could tell. That's on them.

I don’t know what I look like. People see me as different things. I’ve been told that some of these different things lie in complete contradiction with each other. To some people I negate myself and they hate that. I don’t mind being a paradox. I didn’t make it a paradox. I know how I feel and I know what I want. How other people see me is not my responsibility. I know what feels right and what feels wrong. It's one of those things, like love. No justification needed. I like what this has given me, a general ambivalence I find freeing. No one owes me understanding, not even myself, just acceptance. I roll with the punches.

No one’s going to be able to know me from a short interaction. That’s fine. That’s not my problem. It’s not their problem either. But I correct them, I give them a chance. I am as honest as possible. It’s awkward. Sometimes it isn’t, sometimes there is that moment of two people meeting, like two comrades undercover. The nod, the smiles. Some people get angry. I avoid going places where they might be able to react. I don’t go out. Sometimes I don’t correct people. 

Sometimes I know that people want me to make myself smaller, more understandable, that I must diminish myself. Categorize, define, summarize, defend, defer. I get the feeling my complexity is the wrong kind of complexity. I hate deference, I want to be an equal participant in the conversation.

I was in line for a friend’s show, waiting to get my bag searched, my ID checked and a man behind me got close, started touching my bag. Same old. Bad jokes, mean jokes, stuff to try and make me feel vulnerable. Said he was putting his gun in my bag to hold onto. Trying to get me to engage to protect myself. Flatter him, don’t hurt his ego. That boring misogynistic flirting that kids start honing in grade school. I didn’t say anything. I made myself as uninteresting as I could. That hurt his feelings. “I bet you think I’m such an asshole”, he said with little kid anger. I continued to ignore him. I didn’t want him to hear my voice or see my face. He figured I was a girl. It's the hair. Then came his quick turn to vitriol, insults under his breath. I got inside and none of my friends were there yet. I pretended to be alright, cold-blooded. Like I don't feel anything.

I learned that quickly, that being a man is not a trump card, not for me. Some people tell me this can't be true, it's not the part about being a man. I become comprehensible to them only if they separate me from an important part of my whole, if they dictate myself back to me in a way they find acceptable, in line with their worldview. Sometimes I am asked to completely disavow it to be let back into life. That is a very old trick. I got tired of it when I was still a little girl.

I know that it is the catalyst. The thing about me, the nail in the coffin. No matter what kind of man I've been, it's been true. I can't forget it even if I'm told that I must be coming at it the wrong way because I have to hold that knowledge close to survive. When I abandon it I abandon myself. Bad things start to happen again.

Why is my understanding of the violence that happens to me up for debate? How can you debate a thing you can't even look wholly at? Who gets to abstract it, define it? I should really be asking, who decides what is too insignificant to be considered part of the definition? What violence gets to slip through the cracks, undefined as violence? Why? Why are my friends disappearing into abusive relationships like I did for most of my life? Why are my friends killing themselves? Why does no one notice?

I guess there are a lot of questions that everyone's afraid to ask.

[grizzcore]

I identify AS a lesbian , that is how I perceive myself and what to me is a truth about my personal and full lived experience, I adore butches and specifically MY butch. I was known to be a lesbian at a very young age. I only had crushes on little girls, i had a huge crush on my lesbian aunts butch partner and I was not good at hiding this. (Very cute photo of me staring at Lisa available at request) I didn’t behave like a lot of little girls, I was a tomboy, I was also very clearly lesbian and this lead to being “othered” a lot , especially by adults who did not want me around their children because of my homosexuality

At age 11 I was diagnosed with gender identity disorder, and at 12 I started going by he/him pronouns and the name Oliver at my Ohio public middle school. I was technically out as agender but did later identify as a trans boy/trans man. In my teen years trauma and dysphoria complicated things for me, I dated much older women and afab NB people who did a lot of emotional damage to me , and with my trauma around lesbianism I ended up identifying as a gay trans man for a long while. From 16 to 21, this is what I considered myself publicly - though I’ll admit that on some level I always knew deep down I was a lesbian, and that I was sort of making this identify for myself to fight against that.

I identify WITH gay men , because for many years I thought that is who was, I took testosterone, which I don’t regret at all btw and would and maybe will take again one day, I love being a t lesbian- - I was with gay men intimately, both my age and much older, i was bullied for being both a lesbian and a gay man at the same time because again, I transitioned in a semi rural Ohio public middle and highschool setting starting in the year 2012/2013. i was in gay mens spaces in real life, I felt very real community with gay men and they never treated me very differently than other gay boys just for being transmasculine. Sex with them was not emotionally fulfilling me, but I did enjoy their company and companionship for a while I thought I may be asexual. (Don’t so many of us, lmao)

But No, I was most certainly a lesbian with too much trauma hanging onto that label to connect to it for a while (and many people in my direct personal life kept informing me of this, lmao, which made me double down in a very childish way)

Me and my partner are both afab and identify personally as lesbians- but on many occasions we are perceived socially as gay men because we both previously identified as gay trans men, took t and socially transitioned. Then we dated each other. I told Theo about a year in I thought I may be a lesbian and that transmasculinity to me was an extension of a lesbian gender identity and I didn’t want them to feel invalidated by this as they at the time were a binary trans man to my knowledge. They told me they felt the same way and we had one of the most eye opening and relationship strengthening conversations we’ve ever had. We’re both lesbians , with dysphoria, with no connection to a male identity- just a masculine one.

So were lesbians, who look like gay men and often are regarded as gay men by strangers , we’ve experienced homophobic violence geared toward gay men, other lesbians tend to recognize us as lesbians, but gay men - especially trans men and especially t4t trans men also recognize us as gay trans men socially - and im okay with that! i actually LIKE that.

I don’t care if people see us a lesbians or gay men or both. I have community in both places, I feel safe in both places, I have love for both communities. I have lived in both communities, been fostered and loved in both and don’t feel these communities in real life are half as separated as the internet leads many of you to believe. I was in the gay bar scene at too young an age but I am thankful for the community I feel as someone with what a lot of people could consider a pretty complex gender identity now that I’m an adult still in those spaces

And now that I’m experiencing a sort of complex gender fluidity I could only best describe as “genderfluid but the genders are ‘butch’ and ‘femme’ as genders, not male and female” where I’m exploring femme identity and my relationship to butchness is shifting back and forth, I feel a new strange sort of identification happening to me wherein a lot of people in this irl space are assuming im some sort of drag queen - which I’m ??? Not entirely sure how I feel about but i think I’m overall okay with it in a Chappell Roan femininity is performance sort of way

In short what I’m saying is : my gender is lesbian, but I am aware my SOCIALLY PERCEIVED gender is often that of a gay man, and other queer people seem to vary widely in how they perceive me and my relationship on a scale of “lesbians” to “t4t” to “gay men” often reflecting their own identity

And I’m like! Okay with that and acknowledge these identities as also being a valid part of who I am because they affect the way other people treat me in these spaces I share and the life I live.

[kimabutch]

Man I’m so excited to be middle-aged. Don’t get me wrong, I love the life I’m living right now but I think I’m gonna have such a fun time in my 40s and 50s. I don’t wanna have kids but I can’t wait to be a dyke uncle to my siblings’ and friends’ kids and take care of them when they need time off. I’m so pumped for my vocation and I think I’m gonna do really well at it. I know my chronic pain might get worse as I get older but I’m also so excited to see how my trans body changes with age and frankly I think I’ll look hot as fuck as a salt and pepper butch. I think there’s so much more of the world for me to love and I’m so grateful that past-me stuck around long enough to look forward to future-me.

[advrageobjectshowenjoyer]

being in the trans community and being trans pisses me off.

Like I’m trans and I can’t change that fuck no I can’t but you know how lonely it is to be in this fucking community???? Like oh yeah I’m trans but I’m not a skinny white dude with curly hair I’m trans but I don’t like men and/or aroace I’m trans but I DONT WANT SURGERYS OR HRT. I’m trans but I can’t afford nor do I want binders. I’m trans but I am comfortable with she/her being used on me by friends and family and such I’m trans but I consider myself a lesbian still because I hold onto the label no matter my identity I’m trans but not a trans man or boy (not trans fem either) I’m trans but I don’t have all these cores and astetics I’m trans but I don’t have a partner I’m trans but my music isn’t intresting I’m trans but I’m not white I’m trans but my hair ain’t the soft curls or waves people want. I’m black and trans but I’m not dark I’m black and trans but I didn’t grow up in the Subarbs I’m black and trans and my family will never accept that I’m black and trans and feel like my blackness also plays a part in my trans identity. I’m Hispanic and trans and it feels wrong to be the way I am. I’m native and trans and it feels like everything I am just makes me more targeted and a minority. Im trans and this shit sucks.

I want to be who I want to be without worrying no one is going to accept me because I don’t fit into this fucking norm our community made up for some fucking reason like yeah breaking the norm to create a new one. Especially I can’t even label myself without other doing it for me oh if your black and a butch you MUST call yourself a stud oh your black/hispanic and trans that’s so hot oh I’m sorry this must hurt you let me talk over you about your problems oh your trans and a lesbian are you a lesboy. The last part pisses me off I don’t consider myself a lesboy as I don’t consider myself a man truely and I prefer not to go by it but from wha to know it’s trans or other gendered individuals who uses it like myself we talk about trans phobia in our community and turn the fuck around and do the same shit we are hypocrites. Just like we did to neopronouns and just like how we tried to cut off the trans men from the trans woman. We are just as bad if not worst for hurting our community’s and ourselves for how we try to appease to the cishet or those homophobic lesbians and gay men who only believe you can love ONE GENDER not realizing how ironic they sound or the bi people who try to seem more higher then others because well I also fat ehre opposite gender I’m basically straight sucks to suck I guess not real sing your also queer don’t rub oru short comings in oru face or like that trans woman who says our slurs can only be used by their group no matter how much we also suffered

eanr over I want a fucking grilled cheese and I need to shit tbh.