#anyways. i realize it is not a perfect equivalence

[fideidefenswhore]

Do you think Catherine and Arthur of Aragon had sexual intercourse?

well, yes!

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

gotdam being in bed really does make my brain work better

[todayisafridaynight]

call me majima the way i miss makoto so fucking much <- i am talking about a hibachi restaurant near me that shut down years ago. and i miss makoto makimura

[capriszn]

so we are in the 20s WHERE are the men in undercuts

[suiana]

bruh i was talking to my friends about our types in guys and i said "i like boyfailures, absolute losers" and rambled about how they were just so cute and I'd be going 'yeah that's cool babe, tell me more about your pokemon and dinosaurs☺️' but then later on in the dsy i realised bro what if i AM the loser and someone thought of me like that 😵 therefore i give you yandere! golden boy x loser! reader

basically you're a loser who doesn't think they're a loser. you're the type of loser who talks a lot of shit online about how 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖒𝖆 and hot you are when in reality you can't order a meal without hyping yourself up for 5 minutes beforehand.

you'd be pretending you're hot and mysterious but the second someone indicates the SMALLEST hint of anything you're interested in, you go on full on rambles and rants. then you snap back to reality and realize that hey! you don't even know this stranger! and just... walk away.

you're the type of person to go to the doctor with your mommy because you're scared to talk to doctors yourself and you'll look at her when the doctor asks any question, expecing her to answer for you. 'so what's your name? looks at mother' ahhh reaction.

yeah. basically, a loser. with hyperfixations on anime/game characters that you consume millions of content of. you probably sleep with plushies too and read fanfiction before sleeping. or you're doomscrolling reddit/tiktok/some form of social media and sleeping at 3 in the morning.

enter, him.

the golden boy. the perfect boy with perfect grades and a perfect body and- basically everything. he does like 3 sports, speaks 5 languages, everyone loves him, he graduated from an ivy league or an ivy league equivalent, and he's going to inherit his father's company! rich, tall, handsome. he has everything set out for him. cool beans.

anyway!

you don't know how, and you don't know why, but this man is now in love with you. you... probably met him while working your minimum wage job at some fast food restaurant.

"hi, i think you're really cute. would you like to go out on a date with me?"

"h-huh? erm..."

yeah, you don't know how to react so you just malfunctioned briefly before taking another customer's order. but he wouldn't let up. not at all, because he'd find your socials and have HOURS of conversation with you, on total accident, of course! no dirty work involved. totally. just pure coincidence, just like god or whatever is above intended!

"heh, must be my aura that allowed me to get that limited edition skin... what do you think, best friend?"

"yeah, this is the one guys. I'm marrying them."

"what did you say, best friend?"

"oh, nothing at all ☺️ go on with your rant, sweetie."

by some stroke of luck, definitely not him pulling some strings, you get a job offer that somehow is related to- wow, what do you know! his company! so you leave your boring 9-5 job and sign the contract. what a nice friend he is!

"here, just sign down on the line and you'll be able to start working right away."

"wow this contract is really long, best friend."

"haha... right, I'm definitely just a best friend..."

a contract that definitely does NOT bind you to him. yeah, no, definitely not. nuh uh. what? you're trying to read the fine print? there's no need for that! it's all just boring stuff...

yeah, definitely no conditions that will allow him to legally keep you trapped with him... and should you ever try to leave. well, it's just not possible.

but hey! at least now you get endless cash and you even have this cool best friend who really seems to spoil you!

oh, and now he's asking to be your boyfriend.

"sorry, you're not my type... i like the losers. boyfailures, even."

"sweetie..."

..

...

yeah, so now you're dating. it's all cool. yeah, you... totally don't mind this.

"best friend can we get some chicken nuggets? i really want some chicken nuggets and fries, best friend."

"it's boyfriend, sweetie. but of course! anything you want ☺️ we can get those chicken nuggets and more if you want."

okay well, at least it's not that bad... he's rich and handsome, he spoils you and loves you! like those guys in fanfiction, right? maybe a little too much though.

"sweetie, I'm throwing away all your merchandise of this man thing, okay? I'm replacing it with merchandise of me."

"don't tell me you're already throwing it away..."

"☺️"

"we're OVER."

[deathofacupid]

── .✦ CONVERGENCE THEORY ﾉ chapter one.

featuring. guitarist!geto x nerd!jo x bimbo!reader. warnings. cursing, sex jokes. summary. a brainiac who quotes theorems, a rock god who smashes guitars, and a social butterfly who can't remember anyone's name. the three of you couldn't be further different if you tried. but, what is it they say? ...opposites attract? word count. 1.4k+ words. a/n. was literally half-asleep writing this. enjoy, uh, whatever this may be. might go in for edits, after i've gotten more than two hours of sleep? divider credits to @/bronzewasp and @/enchanthings-a. -> click here for the series m.list!

"you just need to think about it. i mean, you're almost there."

that was a lie. shamelessly, your tutor, satoru gojo, lied to you. it's not like you're listening, anyways. well, okay, you tried. for a whole two minutes, then you tapped out.

besides, you're nailing that third layer of gloss, lips pursed like you're trying to suck a golf ball through a straw. the compact mirror reflects peak shine, a momentary oasis of perfection in the academic wasteland.

"y/n?" satoru persists, tapping the twenty-five that was circled in the corner. for a millisecond, you experience a flicker of what might be called academic concern.

it manifests as a slight tightening around the eyes, quickly suppressed. but then, you realize it's just a number.

you glance at it. red ink. a lot of it. it looks like a crime scene for a pen. but it’s just a number. a number signifying a thing you clearly didn’t prioritize.

you shrug internally. it’s not that you're opposed to doing well, it's just that the effort-to-reward ratio seems wildly unbalanced, especially when you're this close to achieving peak lip gloss.

you take one look at him, sighing. wondering to yourself, how did i get here? to which you would remember the four failed tests in a row. every single time, your professor, the human equivalent of beige wallpaper, dropped your test face down. like it was a biohazard.

if you were more self-aware, maybe you'd have realized it's close to one.

snapping your compact mirror shut, you huff at him. eyes boring into him, as if satoru personally committed a war crime against you. setting it on the table, you groan, "what?"

he gives you an awkward smile, signature of his. another signature of his? that sweater vest. he's got three or four in rotation, and you'd make fun of him.

you would, but it's uncanny how well they look on him. you're not sure what it is, but paired with those glasses that are too big for him, he pulls it off.

not that he even bothers.

satoru ducks his head, prompting to fiddle with his pencil instead. you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

so far, as much as you've counted, the max he can hold eye contact with you is four seconds. ooh, he was close to beating his record this time.

a whopping three. since you were feeling generous, you even throw in another couple milliseconds. you consider yourself a pretty good individual, anyways.

he clears his throat, eyes fixed on the mess of a test. "this one. number seven. let's try it again?" it comes out more like a question, and you giggle. it's not condescending, you swear, he's just funny.

maybe, satoru doesn't think the same. not from the way his cheeks are red. almost the same shade as the ink, you notice.

you pop the bubble you've blown with your gum, "but i don't, like, get it."

"that's okay. 's what i'm here for. look, you didn't even do anything crazy here. just," he pauses, squinting at your work. it's in warm, curly handwriting. it's pretty, but most of it seems to be random numbers.

"oh, I see," he mumbled, pushing his glasses up. they slid back down. you considered suggesting glasses that fit, then decided it was probably part of the... presentation.

"see, you just forgot to carry the two. early on here. that's why the rest of this doesn't make sense."

you blinked. "there's a two?"

"well, yeah. see, they give it to you."

"where?" you squinted, shifting slightly, as if the paper being upside-down would better aid you.

he pointed. "...there?"

"oh," you shrugged. "i didn't see that."

his eyes nearly bulged. "then what were you going off of?"

another shrug. "i don't remember."

he stared. "you just... guessed?"

"maybe?" you tilted your head. "is that a problem? Is there a 'no guessing' rule i missed?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "this is a calculus problem."

"and?"

"and you can't just guess."

"why not? Is the answer going to explode if i guess wrong? does it trigger a self-destruct sequence in the paper?" you tapped the sheet with a long, very pink, acrylic nail. "because I'm willing to risk it. i'm feeling lucky. like, i just found a twenty dollar bill in my laundry lucky."

he looked at the equation, then back at you, then back at the equation. "you know, sometimes i wonder if you're pulling my leg."

"is that a legitimate mathematical operation?" you asked, pointing to the paper. "can we add 'pulling legs' to the list of acceptable problem solving techniques?"

with you, he can't tell if you're joking or not. he sincerely hopes you are, and that isn't a true thought in your head, but he wouldn't be surprised if it were.

he's about to open your mouth, but when he looks up to meet your gaze, he sees that it's not on him anymore. it's all the way across the library, to the glass doors.

or, rather, what passes behind them. unmistakable, even with the two seconds he gets.

suguru geto. suguru with his long, black hair, electric guitar on his back. unmistakeable.

alas, to you, he wasn't just suguru. he was ex-boyfriend suguru. satoru wasn't one for gossip, but you and him had been all the talk before, during, and after.

you're seething, at least a little bit. because, there, hand-in-hand, with him, is some girl. the audacity.

"he's mocking me," you mutter.

"uh, i don't know. i don't think he knows you're in here."

"of course, he does. there's no way he's actually over me. right?" the last word tumbles out a moment after the others, filled with pure, unadulterated shock.

you turn to face him, leaning in. "right?" to which, satoru scoots back, pressed against the chair. he thinks he would like to go back to math now.

"that- that piece of shit. whatever," you huff, though you may seem anything but unbothered. "he's the one missing out."

"...yeah. um, anyways-"

"but, seriously," you start. oh, god, he thinks. "he's doing it to piss me off, right? he thinks, like, everything's about him, right? as if i'd go after that poor girl. she's already probably going through a lot with him. besides," you scoff, "i'm way above that."

he offers you a weak smile. "right. now, about the two-"

"i just can't believe he'd move on so quick."

satoru sighs. he's a man who knows when he's lost. "yeah. how dare he."

"that's what i'm saying!" you threw your hands up in exclamation, a gesture that could launch a thousand ships, or at least a strongly worded complaint from the librarian.

she shot you a dirty look, the kind that could curdle milk and wilt houseplants. you shot one right back.

"okay," he said quickly, his voice a desperate plea for academic sanity. "can we go back to the two? we only have ten minutes left, and frankly, my will to live is dwindling with each passing second."

"he's such an ass," you muttered, then paused, a flicker of grudging admiration in your eyes. "an ass that's good in bed. what a shame."

the tips of his ears pinked. you suppressed a grin. what a virgin. you were sure of it, at least. he had potential, should he ever give up on the whole nerd thing.

maybe swap the sweater vests for something a little less… "grandpa goes to a book club" and a little more… "leather jacket and a motorcycle he definitely doesn't own."

you glanced at the digimon pins on his backpack. nevermind, that may be too far for him. he was probably still debating which starter digimon was the most strategically viable.

you, on the other hand, were not even bothering with a backpack. it was a leather hobo bag, large enough to smuggle a small, moderately anxious chihuahua, and frankly, a graded test in there would just be clutter.

you had more important things occupying the space, like a half-eaten bag of those weird ginger candies that tasted like spicy sadness, a spare tube of lip gloss in case you needed to blind your enemies with pure shine, and a crumpled receipt for a questionable amount of boba.

sighing, rather dramatically, like a tragic heroine in a black and white film, you looked back at the doors. dumb suguru. messing up your day.

sure, it wasn't going all that well, given that you'd been doing math for two hours, a feat that should qualify you for some kind of endurance award, but he didn't have to make it worse. he was like a mosquito at a picnic, just buzzing around and ruining everything.

"two?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance of your emotional turmoil.

"two," you agreed, deflated, blowing a bubble that popped with a sad little plip.

[hamzahsblunt]

BAGS

▍ preview.

“y/n, hey, c’mon,” you stir, groaning at the voice disrupting you from sleeping peacefully. if you didn’t immediately recognize the voice, you probably would’ve ignored it. but it was hamzah’s, so of course it caught your attention, even while being asleep.

you groan, swatting at the hand shaking your shoulder. when you finally open your eyes, you’re met with, what some people would dream of waking up to — hamzah.

he’s already dressed for the airport, but his bed head is still evident. you almost smile at the sight of his messy curls, until you remember it’s 3am and you’re being woken up.

“five more minutes,” you mumble, already turning to tuck yourself back into your hamzah’s comforter. “please.”

“no, i already gave you an extra fifteen. you have to get up now or we’re gonna miss our flight,” he sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed.

you both decided it’d be easier for you to stay the night so you could leave together for the airport. and it wouldn’t be a sleepover if you didn’t share the bed. besides it wasn’t weird to you two, not anymore atleast. hamzah used to be awkward about it, until he realized it was more of an anxiety thing for you.

you don’t like sleeping alone pretty much anywhere but your own home.

the realization that you’ve already slept in an extra fifteen minutes dawns on you. and it wakes you up real quick.

“what?” you fling the covers off of your body, sitting up and grabbing your phone. squinting at the brightness being turned up, you blink to adjust your eyes. 3:15. “shit.”

you don’t waste anymore time, scrambling out of bed and running to hamzah’s bathroom. you have about ten minutes to get dressed, do your hair, and some skincare.

after fixing up your hair and tending to your skin, you throw on a hoodie hamzah’s again (specifically the nap queen one) and sweatpants. you make sure you have all your belongings before being rushed out the door by hamzah.

luckily for you, hamzah already put your luggage in the car while you were still asleep.

“your hair is a mess,” you reach across the center console from the passenger seat, taking a hand to run through his curls.

hamzah, not too big on touching, doesn’t even bat an eye at this. if anything, he leans in closer, finding comfort in the act.

“you can’t tame these curls. i’m telling you,” he says, letting out a yawn and shooting you a sideways glance.

“well, i like them like this anyways,” you smile softly, gently pulling on a curl before ruffling his hair. “they’re cute.”

“noted. i’ll just quit my curl routine now,” hamzah jokes, smiling to himself when you laugh at his weak attempt at flirting.

the rest of the drive is mostly silent except for the soft music coming from your phone connected to the car. it’s a comfortable silence, one that you bask in because truly, any time spent with hamzah meant something to you.

you two meet up with mandy, martin, claire, and chase at the airport. hamzah helps you by lugging around two out of the three suitcases you packed, along with his own luggage. you promise to buy him breakfast in return, which he can’t say no to.

your first stop out of the month getaway would be venice italy for five days, which you were beyond excited for. you guys rented a beautiful lake house near a small town, somewhere you were sure would be perfect.

you all lounge around the airport for a good half an hour, mostly scrolling on your phones and talking here and there. you were all excited, just beyond tired and trying to prepare yourselves for the flight.

the flight would be around ten hours long and with you, mandy and martin’s fear of flying — that was equivalent to being held at gunpoint. you try to engage in conversation to distract you from it, but the thought is inevitable.

hamzah, sat beside you, can tell you’re nervous. he’s had to fly with you before, and sitting next to you came with the responsibility of comforting you.

that’s part of the reason he always sat next to you. one, because why wouldn’t he? you were his best friend, his girl, so of course he’s always finding himself sitting or standing right next to you. but secondly because it makes him feel special, it makes him feel needed by you.

he was the one that got to comfort you. the hand you reached for, the fingers you played with to avoid picking at your own. he was the one who got to share headphones with you during the flight. he was the one whose shoulder you always rested your head on. it was always him.

so, when you board your flight and split into pairs, of course you’re with hamzah. claire and chase end up together because there was no way mandy and martin weren’t sitting together. you’re sat in rows, with mandy and martin in front of you and chase and claire behind you. hamzah takes the window seat, so you don’t give yourself a panic attack by looking out the window.

he doesn’t even wait for you to reach for his hand, placing his own in your lap. he avoids looking at you, staring out the window as you take his hand in yours.

he wasn’t that good at showing affection, yet he always tried for you.

“thank you,” you say softly, leaning over the arm rest to be closer to him.

“yeah. i got you, girl,” he smiles, finally actually looking you in the eye. he didn’t realize it before, but now he notices the hoodie you’re wearing, his hoodie. “hey, you know that’s my favorite hoodie.”

“i know.. but it’s my favorite too. so, i guess we have to share it,” you shrug your shoulders, easing into the conversation and forgetting you were even anxious.

“not like i have a say in this anyway,” he sighs, knowing you had an attachment to the hoodie. with the amount of times you’ve taken it, he might as well just let you have it.

“you’re right. for once too,” you tease, moving to lean your head on his shoulder while sticking an airpod in. you hand the other one to him, “clairo good?”

“clairo’s great,” he nods his head. he wasn’t really familiar with her until you, but you definitely put him on.

you don’t say anything else, turning up the volume. despite being on a plane, being with hamzah was more of a comfort.

you’re even able to fall asleep during the flight, something that rarely happens. but with your head shoved into the crook of hamzah’s neck and his hand in yours, it was possible.

▍note — first part!! so sorry that i made r an anxious girl but i am so.. had to add it in lol. please lmk what you guys think or want to see, byeee

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, “so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

this is not directed at anything in particular so much as a lament ive made in private several times over the years and am thinking about again now but. i wish that fandom had not conflated the term "zine" with "artbook". because 99% of the "zines" i see are in fact artbooks, chapbooks, or art/writing anthologies. which to me are just so so different as products!!! instead of being fully handmade they are all being professionally bound by an outside company, often come with stickers/keychains/other perks that are 3rd party manufactured, etc... and to be clear i love these and have bought several, but!

they are to me kind of the antithesis of what the word "zine" should actually imply, in the traditional sense. a zine is something you make by hand and then photocopy for the dozen or so people in your circle. a zine can be just a single sheet of paper you folded up into 8 pages and scribbled on with pencil. they can get fancier than this but once you move from using a stapler (or if you're feeling fancy needle & thread) to needing to have things perfect bound & glued by a separate industry then!!!! we have moved up the sliding scale in terms of product, towards art/chapbook and away from zine. that's what those terms meant initially we just have... kept calling them zines anyway i guess, and now i think most younger people don't realize that the origins for "zines" were things you handmade and maybe snuck your school/work's photocopier to help produce for your friends. And they were made by one person, or maybe a small collab of 2-3. Once you start adding more artists/authors, and they're all making separate things (even if on a theme), now we have hit an anthology. you know?

because i would LOOOOVE fandom zines in the traditional sense of the word, just posting photos of short scrappy handmade art/comics and mailing them to mutuals for fun like you would a christmas card. idk. like i've made i think 8-10 personal little zines on all random topics in the past year just for fun and my friends, because they're rewarding and people LOVE getting something like that in the mail. they're little visual shitposts like "rating the 16 crayola crayons i found in my drawer" and "plants i have eaten while taking walks in the desert" and it would be really fun to have fandom equivalents of those too... but fandom these days has moved away from silly rough stuff towards everything being really polished + professional and it takes some of the charm out of it i think

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 2 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

Hey tumblr queers and agathario enthusiasts (I see you guys in the comments! @crybabyheathen, sorry to cause you so much distress! @onceuponalegendbg: I KNOW, RIGHT?? @ragnarockz thank you for being a butch!Agatha truther ❤️❤️)

Let's start episode 2, Circle Sewn with Fate / Unlock Thy Hidden Gate. Which, yes, has no Rio. But it has Lilia! Se let's count our blessings!!

oh my god girl, calm down! she's gone! focus!

that's a beautiful composed shot, with billy's head next to the rabbit, already telling us that he's going to become a son to Agatha

lmao she's about to bolt

aaaand she stops dead in her tracks when Billy mentions the Road. Look at her reflection again! that's so deliberate and so intriguing. how would you guys interpret it?

the Ballad theme playing in the background again. Agatha takes a whole step back when she hears the words "the Witches' Road" and immediately says no. she might be despicable, but there's no way she's getting a kid involved. especially not this kid. because they are somehow connected, otherwise how would she know about the car crash? even without knowing that this is Billy, she already cares about him. and she doesn't lie to him, even the tarots will say so. she might just, you know, omit things or even tell the truth from a certain point of view (already working on her obi-wan ghost mentor tricks)

"The road is no place to a kid." and so he was christened

but I can't stop staring at that rabbit picture. were the set people told to find the brightest bunny they could find? they really want you to notice it

now he's hopping like a bunny too! yes his legs are still tied, but I'm telling you it's all deliberate!! (insert either the pepe silvia or the I've connected the dots meme here)

don't tell him THAT. now he's gonna internalize it and accidentally kill you all one by one. christ.

girl you just got thrown around the room like a rag doll. you put together that outfit in two minutes, didn't even take a shower. you have no make up on. are you wearing ralph's shoes. is that his hat. (her being so frazzled speaks of how shell-shocked she is, she would usually take time to perfect the way she looks, because her looks is her armor)

billy is bullshitting too, he just googled her last night. I mean, I'm 100% convinced he cares about Agatha, but he is faking at least some of that trust and innocence (and good for him because she's a menace)

great, she found the brooch and nicky's hair. who needs a heart anyway, here, tear it out of my chest why don't you

Lilia has such beautiful handwriting. what a multitalent

NO, agatha. BAD agatha. now she's decided she might as well throw a little Road together and kill two or three idiots while keeping the boy safe on the side, which HISTORICALLY HAS NOT WORKED WELL FOR HER. how can she be so smart and SO STUPID

this also goes in the Top 5 Funniest Things Agatha's Ever Done list. now picture again all the dramatic car scenes from episode 1

covens are drawn together by fate and are the truest form of sisterhood??? why is rewatching this show kind of like being repeatedly stabbed in the heart???!!!??

look billy, it's the house where you were born! it was incredibly weird. a stork was there. (oh god, I just realized Billy is 3 years old)

Agatha spits at Wanda's home because a) she hates wanda and b) she hates that people hate wanda. this is the equivalent of being a queer kid and seeing faggot written on a locker (do I need to censor words? do tiktok rules apply now? I haven't written tumblr posts in so long)

except that, as Lilia will tell you, agatha has done a lot to smear witches' reputations, so yeah. consequences of her own actions etc.

be cool, man. mama is having the worst hangover of her life.

oh yes, Billy's boyfriend, Boyf.

shut up agatha, you know you wanna protect that little twink with your whole life

I almost wish I had an extra hour so I could gif agatha throwing the pen out of the window.

don't steal other people's pearls you hooligan (but see? clothes and accessories are props to her)

(by the way you won't find any Billy hate here, because I adore parent-children, mentor-mentee and found family relationships. and I think he's a sweetheart)

agatha discreetly snatching the eviction notice from the door. always thinking ahead, always scheming. the con master at work

*angel choir*

✨✨LILIA CALDERU✨✨

this show gave me a tragic villainous middle aged lesbian, which is literally my catnip, and she's only like, my second favorite character. which tells you all you need to know about the powers of dame Patti LuPone (I know she's not technically a dame) (yet) (I don't care if she's american Chucks, get to it!)

that's all I have time for tonight, can't wait to get me some ✨✨✨✨ Lilia scenes ✨✨✨✨

go to episode 2 part 2

[probablyasocialecologist]

Being the child of an influencer, Vanessa tells me, was the equivalent of having a full-time job—and then some. She remembers late nights in which the family recorded and rerecorded videos until her mother considered them perfect and days when creating content for the blog stretched into her homeschooling time. If she expressed her unease, she was told the family needed her. “It was like after this next campaign, maybe we could have more time to relax. And then it would never happen,” she says. She was around 10 years old when she realized her life was different from that of other children. When she went to other kids’ houses, she was surprised by how they lived. “I felt strange that they didn’t have to work on social media or blog posts, or constantly pose for pictures or videos,” she says. “I realized they didn’t have to worry about their family's financial situation or contribute to it.” Vanessa, who requested anonymity to speak freely about her family dynamics, says she helped create content for huge companies like Huggies and Hasbro when her mom landed endorsement deals. When she reached puberty and began menstruating, her mother had her do sponsored posts for sanitary pads. “It was so mortifying,” she says. “I just felt like I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.” Being part of an influencer family changed everything about her life, Vanessa says. “Sometimes I didn’t know where the separation was between what was real and what was curated for social media.” And her mother’s online presence indelibly warped their relationship. “Being an influencer kid turned my relationship with my mom into more of an employer-employee relationship than a parent-child one,” she says. “Once you cross the line from being family to being coworkers, you can’t really go back.” Vanessa will never get back the childhood that she gave up for the family business—not getting any of the money she helped earn is just another disappointment, even if it was entirely unsurprising. “My mom never led me to think there would be anything. She would continually remind me that the money she was getting from the blog or sponsorships was going toward us anyway through basic needs and that should be enough.”

[karasuno-planet]

Long distance with Tobio Kageyama 🧡🖤

Post time-skip Kageyama x fem!reader

genre: very fluffy, sfw

wc: 0.6k

a/n: another long distance one, yes this was supposed to be one post with the oikawa one but the blurbs got too long and they wanted to be separated anyways lol, as always tysm for reading and my requests are open <3

(gif not mine)

You would never be one to hold back your boyfriend from chasing his passion, and the offer from Ali Roma was just too good for him to pass up, you knew that. But it didn't make long distance any easier.

The hardest part was probably the time difference. As it turns out, 7 hours of a difference really interfered with your time together. Which is why it was such a surprise to hear your phone ringing at 7 pm your time, when you knew it was only noon in Italy and Tobio would most likely be practicing.

You picked up his facetime to see him dressed comfortably in his apartment, not in his usual workout attire. And it looked like he had just showered, with obviously wet hair in his face.

"Tobio!" You greeted him excitedly.

"Who else did you expect?"

"Well, it's awfully early to be hearing from you."

"Yeah, coach is sick. We got the day off to train on our own so I started early."

You realized he must have woken up extremely early to have completed his workout, gotten home, and showered in time to call you at noon. Did he do this all for you?

Before you could ask you heard a ring at your doorbell.

Tobio mumbled, "Oh, good, It's there."

"What?" You asked as you moved your way to the door to find a bag of your favorite take-out sitting right outside.

"I had them leave it outside because you're antisocial or whatever..." He teased.

You picked up the bag and closed the door, "Tobio, did you order this for me? Thank you..."

"Yeah, I got some for me too, well, not from the same place but like, the Italian equivalent." He set down the phone and you could see him eating.

"Aw, this is amazing Kags.." You unpackaged the food to find at least two or three meals worth. You laughed, "oh my god, Tobio, this is way too much food."

He seemed surprised by this, "Oh, you're right. Guess I was hungry when I ordered." You remembered his extreme appetite and smiled, it was as if he was with you after all.

"Don't worry, I'll just save some for tomorrow. If only you were here to eat it all."

"Soon, don't worry."

Soon? He hadn't told you of any plans he made to visit. "Do you mean that?"

His eyes widened a little, like he told you a secret he wasn't supposed to let out. He looked at the camera and his eyes softened, "Well I was supposed to save this for a different surprise, but, did you seriously think I'd miss our anniversary?"

Your face lit up upon hearing of his plans to travel back for your anniversary in three weeks, "No way, really?"

"Mmhm," he mumbled with a mouth full of food, "I'm yours for the whole weekend."

"Perfect," you smiled, "I better start planning things now... my friends are worried for when you visit though, they think i might just let you take me back to Italy with you."

He chuckled at that, but you spoke again before you could finish chewing, "You know, I think they might be right."

His straightened up, locking his attention on you in shock, "Are you serious?"

[masterlist]

[bowie-boy]

what about your trans Wilson headcanons pretty please? 👀👀

An excuse to talk about my beloved, trans Wilson…this is an amazing day

(Def me projecting but) Wilson was one of those kids who always knew. Growing up with two brothers, he didn’t really get as a kid that he was different from them and got confused when his parents treated him differently

His first early sign of being trans was when he tried to pee standing up and pissed all over the floor (he assumed he would just grow a penis as he got older) (also me projecting dw abt it)

Once he realized he was technically “a girl,” he went along with it but never really felt connected to being female at all, which led to him feeling really displaced and unattached to people around him all the time

He found out that being a trans dude was a thing sometime in undergrad from one of those 80s talk shows and felt like the world exploded beneath him

Definitely went through an extensive questioning period (even though he definitely knew he was trans) where he would make really long lists of reasons why he was trans, why he couldn’t be trans, pros, cons, etc. and mull over them excessively because he was terrified of making a mistake (me projecting bc OCD Wilson is real and true to me but that’s another post)

Part of this phase involved going to gay bars and finding trans people and basically giving them the verbal equivalent of an “Am I really trans?” Reddit post until they told him he probably was and to stfu

Wilson came out and started transitioning between undergrad and grad

His parents weren’t super accepting at first and didn’t offer to help him pay for anything, nor did they gender him correctly at all, which took top surgery off the table for a long time

The only family member of Wilson’s that was accepting from the get-go was Danny (sad)

Wilson always looked pretty masc so once he started T he passed easily almost immediately but even to this day he’s still paranoid to no end that people somehow Know he’s not cis

Wilson really leaned into dating women once he started transitioning (he’d fooled around with people of both genders in the past while extremely drunk but dysphoria had pretty much taken any kind of sexuality exploration off the table for him)

Got married to Sam way too fast bc he assumed no one else would ever accept him for being trans (Sam’s version of acceptance was like. Never bringing it up)

In my perfect beautiful T4T hilson world, House was Wilson’s first ever trans friend and was his connect for getting top surgery

In an equally real world, Wilson being trans was the one personal detail House never found out until Wilson revealed it at some point in small waves purely to drive House insane

Stealing from @occultbooks but Wilson’s McGill sweater is 1000% his dysphoria sweater

Wilson and Chase go so many years at PPTH with no idea that the other is trans

Wilson’s comphet goes crazy until at some point post season one when his doctor ups his T dose and his sex drive gets completely thrown out of wack and he starts being attracted to House in a way he cannot ignore

Wilson learns from the Internet that starting testosterone can make you gayer and briefly considers dialing his dose back but the dysphoria is too strong so he decides to accept it as a “side effect”

Anyway eventually he realizes he was gay along and is just lowkey super repressed and maybe a little stupid

Amber never made Wilson feel awful about being trans from the get-go and was so supportive and curious and interested and that’s part of why Wilson loved her so so much

In non-T4T-verse, House pretends to be a chaser and is like wow Wilson it’s so hot that you’re trans it turns me on but actually he’s just hiding from vulnerability bc he really is just obsessed with Wilson and his body no matter what

Wilson is always afraid that his STP looks like a boner in his pants and House takes advantage of this paranoia by making as many jokes about it as possible bc he’s evil

Wilson never got a hysterectomy bc expensive but he still gets insanely awful cramps once a month that sometimes suck so bad he needs to stay home from work (this makes him hella dysphoric)

Wilson doesn’t like his top surgery scars but House thinks they’re the hottest thing ever which Wilson uses to make House feel better abt his leg scar

Wilson’s guilty pleasure is man spreading to a horrendous degree bc it helps his dysphoria a fuck ton

The reason why he wears those old man matching pajama sets is because that was his ultimate transition goal as a kid

On really bad days House does Wilson’s T shot for him (the catch is that House insists on doing the shot in Wilson’s ass)

This lowkey got extremely long my apologies but I could actually talk abt this forever

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hi, could i request Alastor x reader where one of them does something nice/gives something to the other not realizing that in their culture it's equivalent of courting/proposing? And since the other is in love with them, they don't mention the connotations and it takes someone else to point it out for them to realize? :)

Going to be honest, I wasn't sure how to write this one, since I'm white and to my knowledge Alastor's a Creole man from 1930s, so I wasn't sure what from either of those cultures could be mistaken for a proposal. After doing some research I'm going to tweak this ask a bit, simply because I am not entirely comfortable representing other cultures that I am not a part of and only have a few hours worth of google research knowledge of. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted. If you or anyone has more specific traditions to use as examples, I'd be happy to try and expand on the idea.

(Or reinterpret this as like, flower language, gift giving symbolism by pagan standards, or crow language. Which not gonna liez my ADHD ass really wants to write a crow sinner giving them weird random stuff they find that they think the others would like.)

Anyway, I'm going to do things you'd do for each other that make you both wanna get married. Hope that's ok!

Alastor

It's not so much a single thing you do, but more like there is a single moment where he realizes he wants to marry you. And to be clear, his idea of marriage is going to be based off of what he grew up with and his own personal level of comfort with romance and intimacy (remember folks, aromantics have a spectrum as well and can get married and have perfectly happy, functional, healthy relationships and marriages).

It's probably not even a big grand gesture or anything. It's more likely something domestic and really sweet. Like it's post the finale fight with Adam, and he already knows he's getting attached because he let you help him get patched up. He lets you in his room, his space, and being touched by you is as easy and comfortable as it is with Rosie and Niffty, who have pretty much a free pass whenever.

Yet you're still always so respectful of his boundaries, of giving him subtle ways to avoid or redirect your touch if he's not feeling up to it. You never push, chosing to take what levels of affection he's willing to express but always letting him know you love him, and this last small thing is the thing that makes it click in his brain.

You bring him his coat, newly patched, cleaned of any trace of blood. The stitching is a little sloppy, crooked, and the fabric isn't lined up as well as it used to be, but you tried. He can see the effort and knows you spent hours holed up in your room after patching him up.

"I know it's not perfect, but it'll hold until you feel well enough to visit your tailor again." You say timidly, as if you expected rejection or critique. And while criticism wouldn't be unwarranted, he's just too emotional to say anything. His smile is gentle, a little wobbly, and he reaches out and brushes the coat aside to grab hold of you and pull you into a hug.

You're just so sweet and considerate, you understand him. He's not going to change, he doesn't want redemption, he thrives off the bloodshed and chaos of hell, but at the same time he's still just a man. And he wants you to be by his side for eternity, if he you want that too. He's never thought of marriage before but now...now he can't stop. He wants to have that with you. Domestic life, something to come home to.

He won't say anything right away, he wants his proposal to be perfect. He's going to have Rosie help him plan this every step of the way, but regardless, one day, you will be his partner.

As for what your moment with Alastor is, I think it entirely depends on what you value most in a partner. However, a general consensus I've seen in most of the fanfics and tumblr posts is the idea of Alastor showing us a softer side.

Not just showing us that he's more than a serial killer and cannibal with his own sense of morality. More than just feeling comfortable enough to let us initiate touch, hut genuinely letting us see past the Radio Demon persona.

Maybe it's by cooking for us and talking about how he learned the recipe from his Mama, which leads into him slowly opening up about her, how much he adored her. What she meant to him.

Maybe it's him and you at the bar in the hotel or in his room, sipping drinks, his jacket off, sleeves rolles up. Letting himself be casual and in a compromised state around you. Maybe he'll even take your hand and spin you across the dance floor like he used to with Mimzy. He doesn't even care if you're not that good, he can teach you, practice makes perfect, he just has fun with you.

Maybe it's a moment where he let's you touch him. Or seeks you out for help because he knows you won't say anything. Or if he humors you and flirts back when you tease him. Or let's say he has a tail and he doesn't snap your head off for accidentally touching it as you go by. Or he agrees to watch a movie with you or listen to a podcast despite how he feels about technology.

Maybe it's just a quiet night, sitting next to each other, each reading a book, his radio playing softly for background noise, and you look up to him to ask a question or say something and he's already watching you, a small, adoring smile on his face.

Take your pick of which one is the moment where your heart stops, your breath catches, and you realize that you wanna marry this man.

And then your delulu ass wakes up, lol.

Decide for yourself if you'd go through with a proposal or if you just accept how things are.

[thisishwrworld]

what if I wrote a Silco x Reader slow burn where Reader becomes Jinx’s tutor while striving to gain a lecturer position at Piltover Academy?? yo anyway here’s like a little 800 word intro to reader and her backstory. should I continue workshopping this?

“I believe there’s a better way to complete this,” you say quietly to the student in front of you as you point a manicured nail to problem three on the worksheet. All you get in response is a heavy sigh. A mop of curly brown hair falls into growing hands as the boy flops onto his desk with dramatic effect. A pencil rolls, clicking along the way as it falls off the desk. A quick swipe of your hand has it back in place next to the boy’s elbow.

“But Professor, I don’t know how else to do it,” the boy bemoans.

“How about using L’Hopital’s rule, what you’re doing right now is equivalent to high treason of mathematics,” you point to the boy’s equation sheet. Slowly and with perfect restraint, the boy turns his head and shoots you a withering look. God, how could a child of fourteen produce such distain for one math concept. Gesturing with your hands, he finally picks up his pencil and begins scribbling.

You begin a turn about the room so as not to hover and overly critique your student. Passing fine wood furniture and buttery soft drapes laid over partitioned windows. Windows overlooking the Undercity’s promenade and a view of Piltover across the river. Soft scribbles bounce off wallpaper. You gaze into the eddies of the river.

A voice calls your name from the adjacent sitting room, “could I have a moment of your time?” You hum a confirmation and begin to move. Walking through the room you check over the boy’s shoulder and give a soft squeeze as you see the progress you were hoping for.

As you enter the green themed sitting room, you’re hit with a sense of unease. Your employer never looks this restrained, usually she’s a little chatty and all too kind when offering refreshments. Now she seems a little stoic. A hard crease in her brow. You already know what’s coming. You’ve had it happen so many times. There the words are.

“I’m going to have to let you go.”

You sigh disappointedly, but can’t blame anyone, not even yourself. At least it’s never your fault.

“You’re a great teacher to my son and I’ll be eternally grateful for it.”

They always acknowledge you’re a proficient lecturer. You simply give a slight nod. Disappointment and even a little anguish show on your face. It’s horrible for you, to meet, teach, and even befriend tens and tens of students. Only to have families eventually fall on hard times. The first expenditure to cut is almost always education. If it isn’t the first, well it’s got to at least be the third. The woman looks almost pained in her sorrowful expression. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a client so distraught. She realizes that her son won’t make it to Piltover and beyond without a continuing education. But she just can’t afford it.

“I—“ she starts to say from her green recliner. You raise your hand softly and give a slight nod. It’s alright, is said in the soft tilt of your brow and a closing of the eyes, I understand. The woman screws her eyes shut and exhales.

“I can keep you on until next week,” she pushes out. You hum softly in response. Now the job hunt begins. Or else you’ll miss rent this month. You give a bigger nod of your head, a few strands falling from your up-do as you turn back to the dining room to finish the lesson.

Even quieter now she calls, “I do have work for you though.” Your head whips back, so she isn’t firing you?

“No,” she shakes her head at the question in your eyes, “I know of someone looking to hire.” You hum noncommittally, maybe she’s just trying to be nice after doing the equivalent of throwing you out into the river.

“I appreciate it. I’ve loved tutoring your son and he’s made such progress. I’ll formulate a lesson plan that you can homeschool him with for the foreseeable future,” you offer softly as you inch closer and closer back to the dining room.

“I’ll give you the address of the individual looking for a tutor,” the mother offers softly. You whisper your thanks and leave the green sitting room behind. A dark cloud hangs above you as you run through your finances in your mind. This was the worst time for this to happen, you really shouldn’t have bought that new dress last week.

Time feels as if it flies by as you finish the lesson and begin to gather your notes and textbooks. A slip of paper slides across the oak wood table as a manicured hand comes into view.

“Here’s the information for the open position,” she offers. As you peer down at the paper, only threes words are scrawled upon it.

“The Last Drop.”

[velvetvexations]

Was going through the Playdoughs tag just to see what was up with the Homestuck vs Dykes To Watch Out For stuff and unfortunately saw that she apparently was also trying to paint Leslie Feinberg as a TERF and ngl might be a bit conspiracy brained but between that and the Bechdel stuff I'm wondering if she's just trying to shit on every single notable butch person out of a hatred for transmascs and "TMEs". Like no queer person has ever been perfect, but it's getting sus that transradfems never bring up any of the problems with Whipping Girl and decry anyone who does a transmisognist but they're allowed to shit all over Stone Butch Blues and Dykes To Watch Out For because the authors both have had some questionable takes.

It also especially pisses me the fuck off because Feinburg literally stopped medically transitioning to avoid the separation from the lesbian community(and expirience a bunch of butches say they shared on a post I found from r/ButchLesbians. Legit saw PD claiming the women in the book only exist to prop up tmascs and take care of their emotions which...idk in the context of that passage I legit can't help but feel like she genuinely thinks the isolation that came with transition was just and deserved. PD also compares Feinburg to a cis man writing misogynistic crap about cis women and truly, shut the fuck up. It's possible for anyone to be misogynistic, but Stone Butch Blues very clearly shows not only how much Feinburg valued the women around hir even as they abandoned hir for trying to become who ze wanted to be, but also how much violence and hatred butches and tmascs face, and honestly I think the latter might be her real problem with it. Can't let queer books about tmascs and butches exist, people might realize queer masculinity is actually NOT celebrated by cishet society! And ofc course asking any queer woman to stand in solidary with her butch community members is placing men's emotions over women's and implying women only exist to support and care for men. It would almost be funny if it wasn't so goddamn transphobic and cruel.

Anyway yeah, sorry to vent, that just bothered me so fucking much. I think it's perfectly fine to point out issues with well-known queer authors and activists but when you are specifically attacking masc queer people I start to get suspicious that combating transmisogny might not really be what's driving this. And again, it's awful that anyone could read that book(or just like Feinburg's wiki page) and come away with the belief that society and certain queer spaces never punish queer masculinity. It breaks my butch heart to see all of my fellow butches never making their body a home because they'd rather live a dysphoric life than end up alone with no community. I'd love for any transradfem to read those testimonies and tell me tmascs and butches aren't targeted for their masculinity, I dare them.

some trans women desperately need trans men to be cis men because cis men violently oppressing us isn't enough and they need a direct 1:1 equivalent to the relationship cis women have with cis men to feel validated