#like i mentioned deep in the tags of the other post i wouldn't object to minlayne in the show but i also don't feel a need for it

[markantonys]

also, i feel like the "rand's polycule feels like a harem, so the girls all need to date each other too in order for it to feel like polyamory" crowd isn't latching onto the right issue with the relationships/characters. because i won't deny that there is a harem-y element in the book version, but i DO deny that it comes from the simple fact that rand is dating 3 women who are each only dating him.

now, this is all down to personal interpretation, but i never got any harem-y vibes at all from elayne/rand & aviendha/rand. because here, we have one man with multiple girlfriends, yes, but the girlfriends are fully fleshed-out people with lives and obligations outside of him. in addition, elayne and aviendha have a good relationship with each other. of course, irl metamours don't have to be besties (although aviendha, specifically, does prefer to be close with her metamours than to be cordial acquaintances), but the utter lack of jealousy or competitiveness between them does a great deal to prevent any sort of "harem vibes" of a bunch of women fighting each other to be Top Concubine. i'll love for elayne and aviendha to date each other as well as rand in the show, but imo the relationships between the three of them already do feel like polyamory even when elayne and aviendha's relationship is platonic.

the issue is min - and the issue is NOT that min only has one partner while rand has multiple, the issue is that min doesn't have any connections or obligations outside of the relationship at all while rand has many. if the polycule feels like a harem, it's because min's entire character and pov sections revolve around pleasing rand. she DOES feel like someone who wants to be Top Concubine because her only long-term goal in the whole series is to make rand want her and to be near him 24/7 at the expense of any other friendships or responsibilities she might have, and because she's constantly going "ugh it's not FAIR that i have to share him" and "this sharing arrangement is all well and good as a temporary thing, but which one of us is he REALLY going to marry?" (again, she doesn't have to be besties with elayne and aviendha, but i'd hope she would at least feel comfortable with the arrangement and feel that it has long-term potential rather than expecting that A Choice is inevitable).

this bleeds into people's perception of the entire relationship, so you get takes like "it's so annoying that a ton of women are obsessing over rand 24/7" when it honestly is only min who does that; in their own povs, elayne and aviendha think about rand as often as you'd expect someone to think about their long-distance partner whom they miss and worry about, but nowhere close to 24/7 because they both have plenty of other relationships and responsibilities to occupy their thoughts, unlike min, who truly does obsess over rand 24/7.

so no, min doesn't need additional partners in the show to make the polycule feel like polyamory rather than a harem. she just needs a life outside rand! she just needs friends! and those friends don't even need to be elayne and aviendha; min being cordial acquaintances with her metamours would be totally fine as long as she a) is happy in the poly arrangement and respects their relationships with rand, and b) has other friends in, say, mat and nynaeve and whoever else, so that she has some connections outside of rand, the same way that HE has connections outside of HER. and the show is already making great strides towards this by giving her a friendship with mat, a family, a backstory, problems other than "i'm fated to love rand but idk if he likes me back", and goals other than "make rand like me back."

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Made it to chapter 16 today which means Feyre and I have both had our first impressions of Rhysand's Inner Circle and ohhhhhhh boy

Its hard to pinpoint why exactly, but theres something so discomforting about watching them interact. I think the main thing is that for all their "casual-ness", theres still clearly a rigid hierarchy between them and they all seem to 'know their place' so to speak, its not at all like Lucien and Tamlin's relationship in the first book which genuinely felt like a friendship that was unburdened by their status or positions. Like, theres this one moment where Mor and Amren are like kinda bickering with each other i guess, and Feyre remarks that Mor is probably super powerful if she dares talk back against Amren (in an incredibly minor matter Im pretty sure but I already forgor ngl) and because this is the book where Feyre's perspective starts being Objectively Correct all the time, I guess that's true, I guess the only reason someone would dare voice their opinion on something to this friend group is if they were physically more powerful because otherwise you just level a fucking mountain during an argument

Anyway, Im gonna switch topics for a short moment but I promise this diversion is relavant to the point above. So, sometimes when I go into the anti-tags on here looking for criticisms or complaints of the books, I instead find anti-ship posts that are mainly just about trash-talking some ship, mostly ones relating to that whole Elucien/Elriel/Gwynriel shipwar, which I already have thoughts on but I'll save those for later. In any case, one day I stumbled upon this pretty long anti-elriel post about how the gifts Elain gives Azriel on winter solstice arent actually cute and it describes how she gave him like, herbs that help with headaches "because his friends are always giving him headaches" apparently. And then that post went on a whole rant about how insensitive that was of her and that she doesnt actually understand Azriel's dynamic with his close friends, but honestly, judging from this chapter Elain was absolutely spot on

And I usually wouldn't say this because yknow, its only one chapter and we're probably gonna get the nuances of their relationship later, but this is a book written by Sarah J Maas, her characters and their relationships are rarely particularly deep and, more importantly, her writing is incredibly unsubtle. If Azriel was in any way fond of his friends shenaningans I wouldve noticed it, because Feyre wouldve noticed it like 15 times during that whole dinner. But she didnt.

Its especially bad for Cassian and Azriel because it feels like Cassian thinks they have this great rapport but Azriel just genuinely kinda dislikes him. Not to mention that whole fucking mess with Azriel and Mor and Cassian and Mor having sex so she wouldnt get married off or whatever, good god how is every conversation between them not insanely awkward

Even beyond that, idk man, theyre all just so insufferable. I dont understand how Amren, ancient eldritch being trapped in a fae body that she is, can stand to be around them, I wouldve left them 5 centuries ago if I was her. I guess the explanation is that she finds the government position interesting but its like, youre SECOND to the most boring and annoying man on the planet only kinda ruling over a court that you dont even actually care about from everything Ive heard. Again, if I was in Amren's position I would not be hanging out in an APARTMENT in a boring ass city at the behest of a quartett of stupid bozos, I wouldve weaseled my way into being the personal advisor of Beron or some shit so I could watch the Vanserra Family Drama unfold live

There was one good thing about this discomforting dinner though, and that was how inexplicably gay Cassian was for Rhysand. He was really out there, looking at him with such love, calling him pretty twice in like two minutes being all "I knew I wanted a piece of him the moment I first saw him, the high lord's pretty son" like okay. I know what you are

[pristina-nomine]

so my knowledge about her is entirely limited to your posts, but may I request ophélie from la passe miroir for the character ask? 💌 very curious about this series!

Ah, I'm so happy that my posts got you curious about it ✨ (I’m also so sorry for the super late reply, but this week stuff just kept happening and I haven’t had a moment to write anything) Anyway! Thanks for allowing me to indulge in more obnoxious gushing u.u

Favorite thing about her: that she's devoid of any sentimentalism, even if the plot constantly puts her through super angsty scenarios. And that in her character arc of opening up to others and accepting the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, this part of her never really changes; she comes to realize that feelings are not necessarily melodramatic, that she can love and love deeply, but always in her own way

Least favorite thing about her: even though I really like the general theme of Thorn’s wounds running too deep to be magically cured by him falling for Ophélie, at times in tome 3 I did wish she wasn’t that accommodating to him. Which, again, is a fundamental point of her personal growth and objectively well done (and he’s like. very much accommodating to her as well), but there are a couple of specific scenes where it rubs me the wrong way a bit, can’t help it

Favorite line: Il n’avait pas le droit!!!! Character thesis statement. Iconique. Also, given that the whole series is her internal monologue, honorary mention to the resolve moment in the final paragraphs of tome 1

brOTP: so many to choose from, so I’ll go with: the scarf. Unironically one of my favorite characters.

OTP: Thorn, of course. I love that they’re one and the same obstinate communication disaster, that he realizes it almost immediately and does nothing at all to shy away from or hide his feelings, while she needs to go through her whole journey to understand and accept this new part of herself. Excited to read in which other way they’ll misunderstand each other in tome 4! (I’m not actually. Let them be content, at least for a while, please)

nOTP: given that Ophélie notp-ies herself with everyone aha I'd say Renard, Archibald, anyone of the dudes she forms a strong friendship with, basically (I’m not as opposed with the gals for some reason? But I’m also very monogamous with my ships, so still ain’t it)

Random headcanon: this may be more of a general lore thing because I also apply it to other characters, but the use of "of Anima" - ie the place she comes from - as a surname stand-in, Middle Ages style (mainly because I hate tagging characters with only their first name so I had to make something up aha)

(Wait, now that I think about it, they do use the Family Spirits names in the wedding ceremony... that's pretty much the canon equivalent of a surname... well, there goes my headcanon)

Unpopular opinion: welp, I don't even know what the popular opinions are, the fandom here is so minuscule aha. One thing may be that I'm very adamant about her being in her early twenties, or 19 at least? If she was a teen her uneasiness about romance/sexuality and frustration at feeling "half a woman" and "a child" simply wouldn't hit as hard

Song I associate with her: Alice's Theme by Danny Elfman!!

Favorite picture of her: this picture of an Edwardian young lady who looks precisely how I see her with my mind's eye, minus the scarf

Bonus: these stunning portraits by @fantasy-seal and Ilenia Pastore

[hughiecampbelle]

Wildflowers (Shelby!Reader × Bonnie Gold Oneshot)

Character/s: Bonnie, Aberama mention

Word Count: 1,365

Inspired By: Silver by Nim Nim

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: Another Bonnie fic! Though he's still not a character I write for, I couldn't stop thinking about this plot. This has been sitting in my writers block folder for weeks!!! I really did love my original idea, but I also think what it turned into is pretty good, too :) I haven't been feeling confident at all in my writing, which is part of the reason why I haven't posted a fic lately. I do love some paragraphs, but others I just wanna throw in the trash. It can't stop me from posting it though because I really do wanna get through this block. I'm thinking of doing a part two? Lmk if you'd want that! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Beneath the clouds, so grey, so sad, sunlight blessed the trees, the leaves dancing in the breeze. Grass, overgrown, free to sway. Birds, bugs, everything seemed so alive, so eager to breathe and shout and let their presence be known. Unapologetically there, in their own skin. Going home, all of them, awaiting the impending storm. Static hung in the air, a heavy curtain, a blanket on your breastbone. Too thick to breath. The wind picking up. Brushing the leaves, the petals and pollen, across the stone pathway, down the dirt road, through the fields of wildflowers. You sat in the heart of it all, the warmth of the bright morning wrapping you in a it's arms, cupping your cheeks, holding all your broken pieces together. The heat in the air tracing your skin, kissing your face, as if it wanted to thaw every bad thing that had ever happened from your bones, stripped of what used to make you so angry. A warm step beneath your feet, your spine arched, in between your palms a mug. Eyelids heavy, wary of the bright outside growing dim, welcoming the day with a soft, cautious hello. Thunder rumbling, warning, threatening, baring it's teeth at the world. Lightning would follow soon, more timid, dancing on its toes, reminding you of the baby of the family, your youngest brother How you missed him. In no time, just as the storm, they would be here, and like the bugs, the babes, the blossom, you would be ready.

Prick and pinch your flesh all you wanted, this was no dream.

A home in the countryside. Tall, lopsided, full of warmth, of love. Standing on its own, reminding you so much of him, of what you were together. Defiant. Stubborn. Strong. Chipped bowls, and baskets of fruit, the sweetest stuffed between sugar and pastry. Patchwork quilts and holes in socks. Timid smiles, light touches, the faint smell of vanilla, lavender, of the bouquet he plucked on his way back. Honeyed kisses, promises of sweet dreams, of perfect mornings. Fireflies like fallen stars, a moon to sweet not to nibble at. A sleepy breeze, urging you to bed. This was your escape. Your hideaway, as far from the city as you could get. A place to yourselves, where time froze. The seasons changed, throwing you into the icy grips of the winter, the sweltering heat of the summer, but you, and him, together the same. Together safe, happy. Free.

It wasn't always like this, though.

Blood splatter. Silver jewelry. Broken bottles. A haze, all of it. The story torn apart and sewed together, limb by limb, coming to you in flashes, in nightmares, waking in a cold sweat. A time of regret, embarassment, of a pain so deep the wound never stopped bleeding. Still hasn't. Covering up a sadness no one cared to see, to acknowledge. A family only in words. Invisible, ignored, wanting to be seen, your screams of help falling on deaf ears. You were an object to them, and the rest of the world. A toy. The city lights bright, blinding, drawing you in on their own dark vices. Blacking out. Drink after drink until you were stumbling, fumbling, forgetting your own name. Falling for strangers. Skin on skin, their hot breath melting your neck, starved kisses up and down your body until you lay beside them, crushed, wanting to scrub yourself clean of this routine. An escape. A search for a home that never belonged to you. Drown out the thoughts, the fears, the misery. Putting your trust into their words. Once a Shelby, always a Shelby. Theirs to carry was also yours. A gun by birthright. A shallow grave you'd fall into too young, but just as guilty. Slip from the covers, one last swig to carry on. They wouldn't see you for days. A bender. Come down slowly, step by step, until you were light enough to face them, face the job, face the body behind the barrel. It was all the same.

This wasn't the life you wanted to live.

You didn't want to live at all if it meant going through the motions.

Calling him. One night, from someone else's phone, their body breathing shallow, steady, wrapped in nothing but grimy sheets. Another handprint on your thigh, another nameless face you'd wonder about. On the edge of the mattress, begging, desperate, scared. A noose like a necklace hanging around your neck. Dainty, delicate, dangerous. You needed someone, anyone. If they answered, it wasn't too late. That's what you told yourself. He wasn't the first number you dialed. Sibling by sibling, your brothers first, then sister. The bar, the shop, even your aunt too busy. You weren't quite sure why he was next, that he was there at all, Aberama giving you it for emergencies. Maybe it was the last number you could remember. Maybe you wanted a second chance, maybe you wanted to live after all. You barely even knew him, or his brown eyed boy. The few times you spoke he was warm, inviting, at times a little akward in a way that made you smile. But he picked up. His voice rusty, raspy, woken too early in the morning. A hint of panic. No call came with happy news at an hour like this. You apologized for waking him, regret pooling in your gut, spilling out into words like the vomit on your chin, but he stopped you, cut you off, not wanting you to hang up. There had to be a reason. So, he listened. A boy with big dreams listened until the sun came up. To the shakes, the sobs, the grief in your voice for the person you lost, the person you wanted so desperately to kill. To finally put an end to.

That was almost a year ago.

The Dark Days. They had a name, a date, a birthday, and a time of death. Those were the months, years, mere seconds, flashes of time you had a hard time remembering, that you wanted so desperately to leave behind. Hazy, drunken, angry. You wanted to hurt yourself more than anyone, and you did. But now, you could move on. He was there when no one else was. At first, as a friend. Then, something more. Someone more. The one to catch you when the floor fell through, when your body lay broken after time and time again hitting rock bottom. You loved Bonnie, and he loved you. It was simple, effortless, the only thing that ever made sense in this big, twisted life. The city too enticing, the bloodline too polluted, there was no way you could have shed your shadow in a place like that. So, you found this place together. Scraped together paychecks, pocket change, selling what you could. Taking solace in the comforts of one another. Making it your own.

Not a drop since.

The thunder clapped, applauding, warning you. Rain pounding on the roof, plopping in deep puddles, watering the wildflowers. A dreary grey tint cast overhead, illuminating the greens of mother nature. Lightning striking, slicing the sky right down the middle. You watched from the kitchen window, Bonnie behind you, his hand grabbing yours. One last second of peace before the storm ripped you apart. Windchimes bawling, crying, begging you to run. Now. The animals quiet, listening, anticipating the threat yet to come. Not the storm, though. But them. A black car drove softly through the mucky waters, mud splashing on the shiny black paint. Closer, closer, stopping short of the lopsided fence either you or Bonnie had yet to finish painting. He always promised he'd get to it one day. Long coats and caps with blades stitched with thread and blood. You hadn't seen any of them since. Leaving without a goodbye, without another word, disappearing in the night with a promise of a home of your own. You weren't sure how they found you, why they came at all. Whatever they said, or did, would never make you change your mind, make you go back.

Not to the Dark Days.

You weren't interested in being a Shelby anymore, you were a Gold now.

[prxttypxrker]

[secrets: part seven]

[part] one two three four five six

[tags] @falling-stars-never-cry @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @hphmincorrectquotes

You had family over.. you had family over? The only person you ever mentioned was your older sister, whom you lived with, and the late parents you lost at a young age. There were family friends and your sister's boyfriend, sure, but never any other actual blood relatives. The text you sent sat uneasy with him. While he was happy you weren't ignoring him for as long as he expected, the confusion of who you could've meant was tenfold. Does he ask you at school tomorrow? Or does he just bypass his curiosity and let it slide?

Peter flipped over on his bed, staring at the phone sitting between the pages of his chemistry textbook. He'd been debating calling or not—considering you did say you had family over and couldn't meet with him. However.. maybe you could do a phone call? Or a text. Texting sounded better. You wouldn't be able to hear his very unnecessary desperation to figure you out just for tonight.

He threw his head down and groaned into his pillow. If he didn't have a crush on you he wouldn't have been as persistent. And it was overwhelming. He didn't recall any moments he felt like this when he liked Liz last year; not even when he found out her dad was Vulture and had to fight him. That was crazy, but it didn't meld his mind as much as this did. He didn't even think he could like someone this much after that whole experience. “Hey.” He turned his head enough to see his Aunt May leaning against the doorway. “Are you going to call her?”

He sat up immediately, turning his screen off and shutting the book he was reading just to help you on the project. “What? Call who? I don't know who you're talking about.”

She stared at her nephew for what felt like eternity before giving him a small smile and shaking her head. “I won't ask what it's about, but if it has to do with a certain superhero swinging around the neighborhood—well—I’m sure she'll understand once you have a real talk with her. I know she wouldn't want to jeopardize your friendship either.”

He didn't say anything—he couldn't, really. There were moments he forgot his aunt discovered that he was Spider-Man, so whenever she discreetly brought up the other side of his double life he was taken aback. Although this time, he was more than glad she had a sixth sense about what went on in his life. He cleared his throat and nodded his head slowly. “Yeah.. yeah, I'll make sure I talk to her. Thanks, Aunt May.” She gave him another smile and turned to head back into the kitchen. He immediately opened up the book and turned his phone back on.

While he was trying to decide whether calling was a good idea, you were sitting at a dinner table with your sister Katrina, her boyfriend, and pretty much the only person your parents were extremely close with. Everyone was engaged in lively conversation while you could barely get a word in. It all made sense, but for some reason you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that your crush was also the one who prevented what would have been a tragic event in your life. A part of you preferred he was just making new friends that would replace you guys in the future. At least then you could cope and talk it out without having second thoughts. This was a whole other situation. Peter was an actual hero, not the regular, run-of-the-mill kid who takes city crimes into his own hands. He was skilled and friendly and as selfless as anyone with powers could be. Not to mention he worked with Iron Man; you remembered seeing that ship 'incident’ on the news the year before. As well as photos and videos people would post online of the two of them taking on bigger jobs together. It was amazing and impressive, but something still bothered you.

“Y/N.” You looked up from the phone sitting next to your plate, sending it to its black screen before acknowledging your sister. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just some stuff about homework.” It didn't seem like she believed it, but she only shrugged and continued on with the conversation with her boyfriend. They didn't give it a second thought, but the other guest clearly did. You watched him glance between yourself and the device, raising his eyebrows. Was the conflict really that obvious? Could he see that you were struggling with a friendship? Or were your mixed feelings with the current situation making their way into your eyes? “Um,” you cleared your throat and stood from your seat, “I'm gonna go work on that project Miss Simms gave me.”

After saying an early goodnight to the other three in the room, you made your way down the hall toward your bedroom. You closed the door and breathed out a large sigh, throwing yourself on the bed. You laid on your back so you could see the ceiling; see the space where you had half of the pictures of you, your friends and family stuck with tape and staring straight at you. It felt weird to have photos up at first, but over time you would look at them each time you just needed someone and they couldn't physically be there. Mostly during your moments of sulking or frustration, in which you hated bringing down the moods of others so you would look at the smiling faces above you to keep you sane. You hoped they would still help with something as big as this.

You sighed and rolled over onto your stomach, deciding that if you weren't going to talk to him yet, you might as well actually work on that project. While you started doing the worksheets there was a light knock from the other side of the door. “Come in.”

“Hey, misfit.”

At the sound of the all too familiar voice you put everything in your hands down and sat up, giving the man your full attention. “You haven't called me that for a while.”

“Now that's because you haven't caused any trouble in a while.” You rolled your eyes, smiling up at him as he gave you one in return. “So what's up? Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I haven't.”

“You're a terrible liar... definitely got that trait from your dad.”

You frowned and he gestured toward the open spot on your bed, waiting for you to nod so he could sit down. There was a silence that hung in the air as the two of you sat there, both looking around different pieces of your room. It was a silence you always hated when it was between you and him. You much preferred the weird, fatherly or innovative talks that would happen whenever you'd see him. After your dad passed away with your mom, he was the only one that was able to tell when something was bothering you or if you were lying about anything. So after another minute or so of quiet, you spoke up. “Why didn't you tell me?”

He sighed, letting the question sink in on both ends. He then adjusted his position so he could look at you properly. “It wasn't my place to tell you that. It’s his responsibility to decide when to say who he was to any of you. I've just been there as the... moral support, you could say.”

You snorted, “Snarky Tony Stark as moral support? That I would like to see.”

The billionaire raised an eyebrow and grinned at you, seeing that his said snarkiness had been rubbing off on you more and more. His gaze found its way to the object with the screen displaying your contact list. There were times he forgot how much you grew since that tragic day, but seeing the extent of what you'd been going through the past few months helped him see that you had more than just normal, teenage issues. You had a knowing crush on a boy who went around saving pedestrians and putting his own life at risk once in a while. All while having a father figure who had an arc reactor in his chest, flew around in an iron, red and gold suit saving New York from aliens with other heroes, was part of Earth's best defenders, and had a mind so big only those truly intelligent could fully understand him. “Talk to the kid. He goes through a lot. He could use someone like you on his side.”

Without waiting for a response he pulled himself up from the sitting position and made for the doorway. You bit your lip when he took a step out. You didn't want the chance to say it slip by, so just as he was halfway down the small hallway, you let out a small shout. “Thank you, Uncle Tony!”

With his rare modesty in check after your miniscule burst, you went back to the materials laid across the mattress. Your eyes combed over everything, stopping at the name that both frustrated you and sent waves of butterflies in your belly every time you heard it.

Neither of you were aware the other knew about having a crush on one another; these types of instances almost never happened, especially during high school. It was a decision of part temporary confidence, part consideration, and part nobody wanting to lose a friendship out of this. You were both unsure for different reasons, but at the end of the night feelings were only an excuse. In your beds, you each took a deep breath and pressed the name on your phones.

[lo-fi-charming]

okay!! so i've decided i will not, in fact, be answering the anonymous message i got directly. it was presumptuous and rude and there's not much gained by sharing it. however, i'd like to address some points that were brought up in the message and talk about them, since they're topics i care about and would like to discuss.

in summary, the message was saying "the way you draw/write trans men is fetishistic", accusing me of being "obsessed" with trans mens' bodies, and for dodging criticism of how i depict trans men in my art and fics.

i want to clearly state what is objectively incorrect:

i am not "obsessed" with trans mens' bodies. i assume this accusation comes from the fact that i draw jonathan sims the archivist from the hit podcast the magnus archives quite a lot, and i draw him as a trans man. i really like jon so i draw him a lot, thus i draw a lot of art with a trans man in it. i wouldn't call this an obsession, just a character i like to draw and write about! him being trans is an incidental element.

i am not fetishizing trans men simply by drawing or writing about them. trans people exist and some of them have sex; some of them get surgery, some don't; some experience dysphoria and some don't. drawing or writing about trans people does not, by default, mean someone is fetishizing them.

the anon also mentioned how i used to add disclaimers to my fic about how i was a cis person writing fic with trans characters, and those have since been removed. essentially, they were accusing me of backtracking and hiding my identity as a cis person due to criticism from trans people about my writing (implying that i was depicting trans people badly in my fic), which is incorrect.

there are two reasons i removed those disclaimers:

the first, and what might seem like the more obvious answer, is that im not cis! ive since realized im nonbinary. interesting how someone who spent a lot of time writing about trans/genderqueer characters ended up realizing she was trans/genderqueer herself, huh?

the second point is related to what i just said: i came to a point where i disagreed with such disclaimers being necessary. i think it's fine for cis people to write about trans characters, yes even for smut; im not going to go into all the reasons why.

the point is: i didn't delete those old disclaimers out of some sort of shame or a desire to hide my "true identity" so i could "get away" with writing fic with trans characters. and i especially didn't do it because of criticism i got implying i was doing things wrong, somehow.

(with the above, i assume the anon is referring to my fic Deep V, which is a kinky fic focused on jon and his dysphoria with his chest; at the time, i was worried over the fic because of the subject, so i mentioned in my A/N that folks could offer constructive critique. most of the messages were nice and helpfu, and i tweeked some things about the tags and CWs accordingly; a very small few were extremely aggressive and said i shouldn't have written/posted the fic at all. i eventually learned those messages were from gatekeeping assholes in the tma fandom at the time, and opted to ignore them! moral of the story here is: don't solicit public critique - if you need beta or sensitivity, readers, ask people you trust)

i'll wrap up by saying this message was annoying to receive, but not surprising. the 'you drew a trans man having sex, and you're not a trans man, therefor youre fetishizing trans men' argument isn't exactly new. but i think it's important to point out the ways in which it's... kinda really shitty? like, implying that anyone who finds a trans man attractive is, by default, fetishizing them, and therefor horrible, and how dare you.

and like... i've had way more people tell me that the way i draw/write jon, as a trans man, makes them feel more comfortable about their own bodies, or that it has felt relatable or respectful. (which are comments i truly cherish!!) i have a lot of other trans friends who like my jon design, like seeing or reading my smutty fic with him, who encourage me to make more. those people are my audience and who i trust, and who i want to enjoy my art with!

anyway, i'll wrap up. dear anon, i doubt you read all this, but if you did, thanks! but your message was baity and made you look like an asshole! especially considering the way you phrased certain things. you do know that there are just... trans men who like their chests, right? who don't get top surgery? you know there are trans men who like to wear skirts and have long hair? some of the shit you said was Weird, man. maybe think on your biases a little more next time you want to anonymously make rude assumptions about people! hope this helps.

dear anon: got your message, will likely answer soon, waiting until i have access to my computer first