Man, definitely understand being passionate about telling folx to not DIY T, but it's really telling something about your character if you call them an idiot for doing it. Our transcestors did what they had to do to survive - the lack of means plus desperation will result in taking very high (and sometimes lethal) risks every time. Have some compassion mate.
Botched surgeries from dodgy surgeons, complications from DIY HRT... these are the results of systemic issues coupled with desperation. Not of someone being an idiot. Those that become disabled or die from taking actions out of desperation deserve compassion from the rest of us, do better.
Knock off the ableism and direct that anger towards our oppressors.
- an older trans person who has never done DIY HRT, is well aware of the risks, but has compassion and understanding
Yep, I am not compassionate and understanding! And it's for the same reason I'm not compassionate and understanding when someone sticks a knife in a light socket:
Compassion and understanding do not stop you from being fucking dead.
Chemistry and biology are laws of the universe. They do not bend. If you fuck around, you will fucking find out. If you want people to compassion and understand their way into having a fuck-ton of dead kids? You will not enjoy my blog.
There's a block button. If you don't like hearing 'this will make you the fuck dead', I'd use it, because a lot of my blog is saying 'yes, in fact, this popular idea will make you the fuck dead'.
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And Why Should You Care? (L x F! Reader)
Warnings: Slight fluff and angst.
Anonymous Request: Hello!
Can I request L from Death note with fem!Reader who is extremely skinny and doesn’t feel her body is beautiful?
Thank you very much in advance! I love your writing, and your blog seems so friendly!
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“If you have a question, it’s better if you just ask it rather than spending the majority of your time fussing about it and then not saying anything.” L pressed a few keys onto his laptop, the gentle tapping of his fingers a stark contrast to the low monotone of his voice. To anyone else, he would have seemed blunt and callous, perhaps even irritated at your inner frustrations, but you knew him well enough—or fooled yourself into thinking you had—to know that he was actually quite gentle. If it were anyone else, he would have ignored you.
You pursed your lips together and thought some more about the question you dreaded asking. Finally, when you knew that he was only a call button away from summoning Watari, you said, “It might be a stupid question.”
“If it is,” L murmured lowly, “I’ll be sure to inform you.”
Again, he tapped on his keyboard, the clacking of the keys serving as ambience. You could almost hate L at that moment. To him, most questions were probably frivolous; they were mere repetitions of the observations and patterns that he saw daily. If anything, he probably knew what you were going to ask just from your reactions alone.
You sighed and resigned yourself to the horror of impending humiliation. “Okay… Am I pretty?”
Sometimes, you didn’t know what to expect from L. Yes, there were times when he resembled the mechanical workings of a computer—all algorithms and binary code—but there were times when you could swear that he was just as mysterious as the crimes that he solved. That is, to say, you would never know what the answer was, but L knew.
He always knew.
And his response?
He continued typing, but gave you a sidelong glance at you that was more irritated rather than surprised. Figures.
“Pretty, alongside most other adjectives, is a subjective matter.” He cocked his head to the side and brought a thumb to his lips, which he absentmindedly chewed as he continued to regard you. Dark and foreboding, his eyes bore into yours. They were wide and unblinking, but even as you stared back at him, you could barely make out the reflection within those dark pools. “I have no opinions regarding aesthetics.”
And that could have been it.
Even before you began ingratiating yourself to L, you knew that he preferred form following function. He was practical and pragmatic, often choosing clothing that he knew would suit his sensory preferences rather than wearing outfits that could have suited him better. For him, the idea of objects that were purely made just for the novelty of looking at something good looking was far beyond his comprehension.
Despite yourself, you prodded him.
“Fine then, what about beautiful? Do you think I’m beautiful?” You were getting heated now, your voice slightly cracking at the end. It’s not like looks were everything, you knew that, but this was important to you. Your body… It felt like it wasn’t yours sometimes, like a thing that was only meant to be maintained and kept clean, but never to be seen as something attractive. What were you other than a vessel for a soul? A bag of meat and bones?
Pretty wasn’t everything, yes, but you craved to be acknowledged as someone who could be desired.
Didn’t everyone else want the same to a certain extent?
This time, you caught L’s attention. For the first time in an hour, his hands abruptly hovered over the keys in uncertainty before retreating to his sides. Although his gaze was kept perfectly blank, you could see from the bright glare from the computer screen that he looked… confused. Perhaps even perturbed? You weren’t sure how to describe the expression on his face, but it was far better than the alternative: impatience.
In a low, steady voice, he uttered your name. In the stormy turmoil of your emotions, you hesitantly responded with a soft affirmative.
“This is a sensitive situation, yes?”
You nodded, too choked up and lost in your racing thoughts to properly respond.
“Before I answer, I’d like you to answer a question of my own.” He raised a hand to placate you and if you looked closely, you could see that he was taking this conversation seriously. Although his voice remained the same and he still sat hunched in his seat as if he were still in work mode, the way he held himself—unnaturally rigid and alert—told you that he had heard your distress and he was going to do everything in his power to make it right. “As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Anyone could tell you that you’re beautiful. Furthermore, anyone could just as easily tell you that you are ugly. No two person’s standards are the same. So, why should you care? Anyone could say anything, so why bother listening?”
You were struck dumb by his words before you were hit by a tidal wave of indignation and the terrifying thought that L didn’t care. He probably thought that you were being stupid and emotional about this, why did you even ask—
Why did you even ask?
“It’s because it’s you!” You cried out. So startled he was at your sudden outburst, L nearly fell out of his chair, but you paid that no heed. You left the confines of your own seat to confront him, your presence rendering him dumb as you encroached on his personal space. “I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, I just want to know what you think! You’re important to me, that's why I want to know!”
L blinked.
“Ah.”
That’s all he had to say? Ah?
The displeasure must have been more than evident on your face because he quickly began to formulate a response that would best satisfy your needs.
“You’re not beautiful and you are not ugly. When I look at you, I see someone important to me. Aesthetics and societal standards don’t define who you are.” His hand reached out, his movements stilted and awkward, but he managed to land a feather-like touch on your shoulder. Despite his feelings towards physical touch and expressions of affection, he held on. For you, he was willing to eschew his reservations to make sure that you were all right. “Your body shape does not matter to me. Your companionship is far more valuable.”
His light hold increased in pressure for a few seconds before he abruptly let go, his hand going back to rest atop his knee.
You were stunned into silence before you felt a smile break out onto your face.
“Can I please focus on my work now?” His voice was still monotone, but you could hear the distinct wheedle in his voice that was the closest to whining you’ll ever hear from him.
In response you nodded and, respecting the boundaries between the two of you, lightly rumpled his hair in affection. He made a startled humming noise, but you only grinned in response.
If L appreciated who you are, then why did other people’s opinions matter?
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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.
DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST
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