#no I’m not saying all terfs believe this

[lostloveletters]

Crimson and Clover (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: Bucky expects a lot of things when he arrives at Thorpe Abbotts, but Holly Dean isn't one of them. He's not complaining, though.

Word count: 5.1k

Note: I wrote most of this in a notebook over the past 3 days so my hand hates me, but I hope y’all like this! This fic covers pretty much from when Holly and Bucky meet to about Damn Yankees (mid-May to mid-June). Title comes from the song (Joan Jett version, we're bisexuals here). Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies (I’m playing a little fast and loose with who was at Thorpe Abbotts early with Bucky). Depictions of grief and depression. Period typical attitudes.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Bucky asked.

“Some of the Air Exec girls are having another typing contest,” Dye said.

“Who’s the favorite to win?”

“Dean’s won the past two, but Spinelli’s pretty good.”

He was glad to have caught Lieutenant Glenn Dye when he did. The guy had been making a beeline to the Air Exec office when Bucky joined him. His first night there, and already some kind of action—socially, at least. No one had been able to tell him when exactly he’d actually get to join McDaniels’ crew on a mission, but he was itching to get up there, even despite the weariness McDaniels carried with him.

He looked a lot more relaxed in the Air Exec office, standing toward the front of the bustling chaos with Duvall, his navigator. Bucky and Dye pushed their way through the people packed in like sardines to witness the typing contest. Dread fell over Bucky for a split second. What if that was the most exciting thing going on at Thorpe Abbotts?

A shout carried over the conversations. “Last chance to place your bets, ladies and gents!”

“Over here!” Duvall fished a quarter from his pocket. “I’m in on Pinkowsky.”

“You’re throwing your money away,” McDaniels said.

Bucky pulled a crumpled dollar bill out of his pocket and placed it in the outstretched hat next to Duvall. “Put a dollar on Dean for me.”

A young woman with blonde hair in messy twin braids and oil-stained coveralls rushed over, nearly knocking into Duvall. “Hey, did I miss it?”

“Just about to start. Hey Major, have you met Woody yet?” Duvall asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t believe I have.”

“Private Woodward—Woody,” she said. “I’d shake your hand, Major, but I’d probably stain it.” She held up her right hand, covered in black grime that she made some effort to scrub out before arriving.

“Major John Egan, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he said, before gesturing to the women sitting around the office. “So who’s who in this thing?”

Of the Air Exec typists, three were competing in the typing contest that night. Nancy Pinkowsky, a Floridian, sat a little toward the back of the room, as she applied red lipstick in a small compact mirror. Leona Spinelli of Newark, New Jersey, had her heels—sleek black pumps, not regulation—kicked up on the desk of one Holly Dean, straight from the nation’s capital with the brightest smile and sparkling brown eyes Bucky had ever seen in his life.

“He bet a buck on Holly to win,” Dye said.

“You bet on Holly, and you haven’t even met her yet?” Woody asked.

Bucky grinned. “Intuition. I got a good feeling about her.”

“You’re right about that.” Woody smiled. “She’s my best friend.”

His eyes scanned the room as he tried to commit faces to memory, but his gaze kept drifting back to Holly until she caught him staring and responded with a smile that he couldn’t help but return. He moved to make his way over and say something to her, but his introduction was interrupted by the announcement for the competing Air Exec girls to get to their desks, and all spectators to shut the hell up.

Holly’s eyes met his again, only to fall to the blank page in front of her when he blinked. From the sound of just three typewriters clicking away incessantly, Bucky could tell he’d end up with a headache if he stayed stuck as Air Exec, and that would be on top of the inevitable hangovers. 

Her fingers moved fluidly across the keys, her face calm and focused, no evidence of her smile to be seen. 

He finally tore his gaze from her to glance at Woody at his side, the mechanic silently bouncing back and forth on her feet, bottom lip between her teeth. Her focus was fixed on Holly, too.

“Finished!” Holly shouted to a cacophony of cheers and groans.

Two guys walked over, one of whom had been collecting everyone's bets. Scanned the paper and muttered between themselves for an agonizing minute before one of them announced Holly had, in fact, won with no mistakes and an impressive word per minute count.

Woody bounced back and forth on her feet, excitedly grabbing Bucky’s arm. “Beat her own record!”

“Attagirl, Holly!” Bucky shouted.

Just as soon as the chaos began, it promptly ended with Holly’s win. No reason to stick around after hours any more. Don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here, as Bucky had heard many a bartender say at last call. People slowly filtered out of the office.

A few bills and some change were shoved into his hand. “Here’s your cut. $4.50.”

He raised his eyebrows, slipping the money into his pocket. Not bad for his first night in East Anglia.

Holly didn’t recognize the man standing next to Woody, but something about him seemed familiar, comforting without the ache that usually accompanied thoughts of home, of…she figured it best not to spoil the rush of her win before she even reached Woody and met the man smiling her way. 

Woody threw her arms around Holly in congratulations, their embrace lasting a few seconds before remembering they weren’t alone.

“Oh, Holly! This is Major John Egan. Just landed a few hours ago,” Woody said, her arm around Holly. “Major, this is Sergeant Holly Dean, typing queen.”

“Quit it!” Holly laughed. “You’re the new Air Exec officer, aren’t you?” She extended her hand. “Good to meet you, Major.”

Bucky shook her hand. “Looks like you’re batting 300, Sarge. I gotta keep you on my roster.”

“Starting lineup?” she asked.

“You bet,” he said. “You’re from DC, aren’t you? You must be a Nats fan.”

“Sure am,” she said, with all the foolhardy pride of someone devoted to an ever-struggling team. “How about you?”

“Yankees.”

“So you’re from New York!”

He shook his head. “Manitowoc, Wisconsin.”

“How does a man from Wisconsin end up a Yankees fan, Major?”

“I know winners when I see ‘em,” he said with a wink. “And call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky.”

The two women leaned into each other, sharing an expression Bucky couldn’t quite read. Their closeness palpable, he found himself missing Buck. Probably would’ve had something to say about his betting on a typing contest, and Bucky would astutely point out typing wasn’t a sport, receiving an eye roll accompanied by a movie star smile of amusement in return.

“I hate to be that person,” Woody said apologetically, “but we should be heading back now.” 

He nodded. "Right, well it was nice meeting you, Woody. I’ll see you tomorrow, Holly.”

“Bright and early, Bucky.”

——

Despite being in East Anglia for less than 24 hours, Bucky knew Thorpe Abbotts wasn’t anything to write home about, even if he had someone to write home to. The Rip Van Winkle village was only woken up from its slumber by the arrival of the United States Army Air Force and Red Cross. Local farmers were forced to trade a rooster’s morning crow for the roar of bomber planes as their alarm clocks. The English and Irish laborers who worked around the base considered their American compatriots novel and exotic—or a nuisance, depending on who he was talking to.

Found out there was a pub in town. Headed over with some of the other pilots and local laborers the night before. Good drinks, fun company, and a pretty barmaid. At least he wouldn’t have to rely on typing contests and the officers’ club exclusively to get his kicks. Though, if the typing contests happened regularly enough, he’d be looking at a decent payday if he kept betting on Holly to win. A guy the previous night had argued that Spinelli would win often enough, but Bucky, in all of his misguided superstition, figured there must have been something to going into the damn thing blind and making the best bet.

When Bucky got to the office, he almost couldn’t believe it was the same place that had been bursting at the seams the night before. Nancy Pinkowsky’s lips bore no trace of the bold red she painted on them. Leona Spinelli wore WAAC-issued heels, clacking across the floor as she walked over to a file cabinet. And Holly Dean’s brown eyes were dull, framed by light purple crescents below them.

Bucky frowned, making his way over to her.

“Morning, Sergeant,” he said.

“Good morning, Major.”

“Rough night?”

She gave him a tired smile. “Something like that. Did you get a chance to meet Corporal Pinkowsky or Sergeant Spinelli last night, sir?”

“Afraid I didn’t,” he said, a charming smile spreading across his face. “I’m sure we’ll all get to know each other pretty well. Major John Egan, but you can call me Bucky.”

They all seemed more controlled, stifled in contrast to the night before as they introduced themselves. Women always had personas to shift in and out of, social chameleons depending on the situation. Bucky had gotten along just fine without watering himself down for anybody, but as an old paramour of his had pointed out to him, he had the distinct advantage of being a man, and the world was far more forgiving to men with character than women, who had to shrink themselves to fit into perfume bottles, lipstick tubes, or in the cases of Holly, Nancy, and Leona, ribbons of typewriter ink.

“Looking forward to working with you, Major,” Nancy said, her long, dark eyelashes fluttering. She desperately wanted to be a flirt, but lacked the nerve to follow through. 

Always sharp, Leona hardly missed a thing. Her attention could be unsettling, too intimidating for some people unless they knew her well enough. “Nice to meet you, sir.” 

Bucky shifted his weight on his feet, looking away from Leona. 

“Oh, Colonel Huglin’s looking for you,” Holly said.

He sighed. “That sounds about right. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Major.”

As soon as the door to Huglin’s office shut behind him, Nancy and Leona’s focus turned squarely to Holly, their attention weighing her down. She knew exactly what they were going to ask, anticipating their disappointment at her answer that no, she didn’t know if the handsome Major was taken. She would have been surprised if he were.

“So, what’s his deal?” Nancy asked.

Leona leaned over her desk. “Yeah, I saw you talking with him last night.”

“Well, he’s from Wisconsin, but he’s a Yankees fan.”

Nancy groaned. “You know what baseball team he likes, but you didn’t find out if he has a girlfriend?”

“What, you wanna make your move after flopping last night?” Leona teased, her cat-like gaze drifting over to Holly. “Besides, he’s got his sights set on you, Holly Dean.”

Holly shook her head. “I’m not ready to even consider anything romantic. You know that. I’ll never say ‘no’ to making a friend, though.”

“He might,” Nancy said.

“Well then you ask him if he’s getting his dick wet, if you’re so curious,” Leona said, snickering at the way Nancy’s face paled. “See, you need someone more your speed. Hey Holly, he say when the other flyboys were getting in?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t mention it.”

“Geez, maybe Nancy’s got a point. Is baseball all you talked about with the guy?” Leona asked.

The women’s chattering fell to whispers when Bucky stepped out of Huglin’s office a few minutes later. Perhaps Holly hadn’t noticed it sooner, caught up in the throes of her own exhaustion following a near sleepless night, but Bucky was quite clearly hungover. He certainly hadn’t kept his aviators on inside for style, that much became abundantly clear as he rubbed his forehead. The three typists shared wordless side glances at the state of him. First day on the job and probably got chewed out already.

“Any of you know where a guy can get aspirin?” he asked. 

“There’s a first aid kit in the cabinet over there. Should be some,” Holly said.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, sir.”

They went back to typing, silently, slowly, glancing up every now and then to watch Bucky rifle through the first aid kit and promptly dry swallow two aspirin pills. He haphazardly shoved the contents back inside the box and closed it, shoving the first aid kit back into the cabinet. He retreated into his own office, presumably to sleep off whatever ailed him.

“Forget him,” Nancy whispered, only loud enough for her compatriots to hear. “He hasn’t even been here a day and he’s hungover. That’s sick.”

Holly gave her a pointed look. “Don’t be rude, Nance.”

“And he made a mess of the first aid kit.”

“I got it,” Leona huffed, getting up from her desk. “You’re such a baby sometimes.”

Nancy stuck her tongue out at Leona as soon as her back was to them. 

Holly liked them both well enough, at least more than some of the other women in the Air Exec office. Considered them friends, close enough to go out with, share some drinks and laughs, but she never quite clicked with them on the same level she did Woody. Some kind of disconnect emotionally, never quite able to meet her energy the way she needed.

The two had met in San Francisco a little over a year prior, the weekend Stan was being sent off to the Pacific. Holly went with him, glad she had in hindsight, and among the mischief they got up to their last weekend together, one of Stan’s Navy buddies, Frank, invited them to a party. Woody had been Frank’s date, and in a city bustling with women who'd signed up to help Navy or Marines, the two WAAC women bonded right away. Like the stars aligned. The best weekend of their lives. Nothing short of a relief when they were both stationed at Thorpe Abbotts.

She wasn’t quite sure how to describe her relationship with Woody. Friends didn’t encapsulate the complexity of how deeply she felt for her, the certainty with which she knew she could rely on her. She found herself hard pressed to find anyone who understood her the way Woody did.

Holly didn’t see Bucky for a few more hours, and wondered how he could possibly get shut-eye with all of the commotion. If it wasn’t the combined clicking of half a dozen typewriters, it was the talking, a whirlwind of new reports and telegrams and projects to be started and those subsequently scrapped near completion because something had changed, which then affected everything else and brought everyone back to square one.

Quite different from the law firm she worked for as a typist prior to the war. Typically kept up case files and typed up minutes and summaries for various meetings. Sometimes, the lawyers would bring her with them on the cases that went to trial instead of being settled out of court, needing a typist to sit in and record testimonies. While her knowledge of shorthand helped back then, learning the United States Army Air Force acronyms and jargon was like learning another language, not to mention the plethora of accents she had to interpret on top of that.

At least it was interesting work, important work. Kept her on her toes, like she figured Bucky would, as around noon, when she made her leave to get lunch, he emerged from his office and rushed over to her just as she was walking out the door.

“Mind if I join you? I’m still learning my way around,” he said.

“Isn’t half your job knowing where you’re going, Major?” she joked.

He grinned. “That’s the navigator’s job. I’m a pilot, doll.”

“Well, I’m no navigator, but I think I can get us to mess in one piece, as long as you don’t mind walking.”

“Not at all.”

“You won’t be saying that for long, believe me. It rains so much here, you’d think you’d need a rowboat to get around.”

“Know where I can find one of those?”

She shook her head. “What you need is a bike. They’re hard to get a hold of, but since you’re a Major and all, you can probably get your hands on one easier than most.”

“See? I’m learning from you already.”

On their walk over, it became clear Bucky’s fanaticism for the Yankees rivaled Holly’s feverish devotion to the Nationals, and when he made a joke at their expense, he almost thought she took it as a personal offense. She also made a passing remark about how if she had any doubts about city life, it had been snuffed out after a mere two weeks in Thorpe Abbotts, the countryside charm wearing off rather quickly for her. Bucky agreed, neglecting to mention he hadn’t experienced much of fast-paced, city living himself, but he knew he’d thrive in it given the opportunity. 

“So, you writing to anyone back home?” he asked when they found a table to sit at.

“Just my parents and a few friends.”

“No boyfriend?”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “No.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend or anything.”

“It’s not that. I was engaged but…he died.”

“Was he a pilot?”

She shook her head. “Navy. Was killed at Midway last year. His name was Stan.”

“Shit, yeah,” he said softly, “I remember watching the newsreels from that.”

“I could never bring myself to watch ‘em.”

Biggest naval battle in history. The headlines screamed it. Boisterous radio and newsreel announcers regaled the public on the heroic exploits of the members of the Navy and Marines who took on and triumphed over their formidable Japanese enemies. He remembered the restless envy that tore through his gut with each newspaper article, each newsreel—not over the coverage or accolades, but of the action. Lucky bastards got to give the enemy a taste of their own medicine while the 100th was still running practice missions. He hadn’t considered the losses very much. Didn’t have reason to until then.

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Holly. I feel like a real jerk.”

She shrugged, a weak smile spreading across her lips. “Don’t apologize, you couldn’t have known. Just make sure you hit ‘em where it hurts when you’re up there. Doesn’t matter what continent. It’s all the same.”

He nodded. “You got it, Sarge. I’m goin’ up in two days. We’ll give ‘em hell.”

“Good,” she said. Cleared her throat, tried to shake off the sadness that slithered through her like a snake. “So, where’s the rest of the 100th?”

“Got lost coming over here,” Bucky said, laughing when her eyes widened. “Hey, I’m kidding! They’re still training stateside. They’ll be here in a few weeks. June, probably.”

“Anyone single?” Holly asked, quickly adding, “Leona and Nancy wanted me to ask.”

“Off the top of my head? Crank, Douglass, Brady, DeMarco…” He grinned. “Hey, maybe you can type up a list for me.”

She laughed. “Sure I can.”

“You gotta meet Buck. I think you’d really like him.”

His best buddy. Second best pilot in the 100th, only following him, of course. The one of the greatest storytellers she would ever meet. Pretty much inseparable since they met at basic. Didn’t mention how being the focus of Buck’s attention felt like being on top of the world, could send him even higher than any of the forts did. Couldn’t think of a time he felt that way about anyone else.

“He sounds terrific.”

“Pretty square, though—“

“Square?”

“The guy doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t like sports, including baseball, and he’s been dating the same dame since high school.”

“You make the last one sound like a bad thing.”

“Well, it will be for Nancy and Leona’s list.”

“Are we seriously going to make one?”

Bucky snickered, increasingly amused with the idea the more he thought about it. “Why not?”

——

If Holly minded Bucky’s company, she never said anything about it. Didn’t bat an eye when he’d tag along to wherever she was headed to every now and then. Sometimes on her own, but she spent a lot of time with Woody, and the more he was around the two of them, the more he was itching for Buck to finally make it over.

The Wilhelmshaven mission rattled Bucky. His first. Poor Duvall caught the bad end of flak and was covered in blood and barely hanging on when the fort landed back at the air base. Woody’s voice wavered when she told Holly about it, the state of the navigator. Woody was friends or friendly enough with most of the bomber boys by virtue of working on their forts, their babies, really. Being ground crew meant she also had the unfortunate burden of witnessing firsthand the aftermath of the brutality the bomber crews faced in the skies.

Suddenly, Bucky carried the same weariness Holly had seen the other men wrestle with in their own ways. She was hardly surprised when Bucky drowned his in alcohol at the village pub, inviting her and Woody along to join him and some of his fellow pilots for a nightcap, a celebration of Bucky’s first mission.

“Mark my words, Holly,” Bucky said, well into his fourth beer. “If there’s gonna be two pilots left in the sky by the end of this war, it’s gonna be Buck and me. I’d bet anything on it.”

His certainty caught in his throat when her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. 

“That’s hopeful.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” she said softly. “Sometimes I think too much about what could go wrong. I’m sorry, Bucky.”

A stormy melancholy hung above Holly once in a while, and though it never poured, she withdrew within herself. Some mornings, she greeted him with a shadow of the smile he always looked for as soon as he walked into the office. On those days especially, he reached out, tried to bridge the gap between them with whatever story or one-sided conversation he could think of.

He had asked Woody about it, knowing she’d be able to explain it to him better than anyone else. Only started after Stan died. Unnerved some people, annoyed others who thought she was being too dramatic, moping for so long over the man. Her behavior could be erratic, mostly self-isolating, occasionally self-destructive, but that aspect hadn’t reared its ugly head for some time. 

“I wish you knew her before,” Woody had told him quietly. “She wasn’t always like this.”

“I like her just fine now,” he’d answered, almost defensively.

“Good. She thinks the world of you, Bucky.”

His heart had jumped. Stopped himself from saying the same. 

Now, however, sitting with Holly in the small pub, He smiled, smacking his palm against the table, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “I know what’ll cheer you up. How about a song?”

“You can sing?”

“Nope.”

But he did anyway. Blue Skies. Enthusiastic. Off-key. Loud. Ran around the place like someone lit a fire under his ass while the pub erupted in cheers and heckling at his performance. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Woody asked, sitting down next to Holly, half-drunk glass of beer in hand.

“Trying to cheer me up."

Singing certainly wasn’t his forte, and adding dancing to the mix only served to make the performance worse. He crashed into a nearby table, sending glasses to the ground with shrill shatters that cut through his song. Holly’s hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stifle her laughter at the mess and the fact that he kept going. Pulled the exasperated barmaid in for a twirl, and she nearly hit him with her tray.

“He’s nuts,” Woody laughed.

Holly grinned, clapping enthusiastically when Bucky concluded the song, half out of breath, perspiration on his forehead. “Yeah, he is.”

“How about another round and an encore?” he asked when he returned to the table, pleased with himself at how big Holly’s smile was.

“Yes to another round!” Woody exclaimed. “Hold the encore.”

——

June didn’t offer a reprieve from the incessant English rain, but by the second week of the month, it brought Buck Cleven, and as far as Bucky was concerned, things were as right with the world as they could be, all things considered.

He tried not to think about the possibility of Buck not liking Holly. Knew he wouldn’t show it even if he somehow weren’t all that fond of her, ever the gentleman, good ol’ Buck. But Bucky had heard one too many guys make some snide remark about Holly and her odd behavior, her grief, to leave him with more than a few healthy grudges. Still, he wasn’t shocked at Buck’s incredulous attitude when he brought up Holly.

“Where are we going?” Buck asked from the passenger seat of the jeep.

“Quick pit stop to the Air Exec office,” Bucky said. “You gotta meet her—Sergeant Holly Dean, best typist you’ll ever see in your life.”

“Bucky—“

“C’mon, I talked you up to her! She’s keen to meet you.”

Buck shook his head. “You want me to humor your little girlfriend?”

“It’s not—Buck, come on.” Bucky scoffed. “What, I can’t have friends now?”

Buck hummed. “Sure. Friends.”

“She’s great, Buck. We should all go out sometime. You’ll see.”

“You know, Marge went to the trouble of introducing you to Peggy—”

“Holly’s fun! She makes the desk job less boring.”

“Whatever you say,” Buck said as the office came into view.

Holly swore she heard Nancy whisper “oh my god” when Bucky walked into the Air Exec office with whom she could only assume was Buck Cleven. She took in a deep breath in an attempt to even out her palpitating heartbeat. He almost looked like he walked off of a movie set. 

Then he took off his cap and smiled at them, introduced himself to Nancy first, who managed a quiet “Hello Major,” and then to Leona, whose deep eyes almost bore a hole through the pilot. Holly swallowed roughly when he made his way over to her.

“You must be Holly, then,” he said. “Buck Cleven, it's nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too," she said, glancing between him and Bucky. "I already know I’m gonna get your names mixed up, so I’m sorry in advance, sir.”

Buck smiled. “My first name is Gale, if that helps.”

“Gale’s a great name. Why go by Buck?”

“On account of this one,” Buck said, gesturing to Bucky. “He doesn’t have any manners, if you haven’t noticed.”

“He’s swell,” Holly said. “Best Air Exec we’ve had yet.”

“Heard you’ve been keeping an eye on him for me.”

“Trying my best, sir.”

“Well, he’s in one piece, so you’re doin’ a pretty good job.”

Kind and handsome—and woefully taken. But not perfect. Didn’t like booze or baseball, pretty much non-negotiables as far as she was concerned. Nancy and Leona didn’t know that, though. Neither of them had Bucky’s insider knowledge the way she did. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to them all that much, anyway. Most importantly, she wasn’t ready to date again. Ignored who came to mind when she thought of where she’d like to start, though. Probably ruin a damn good thing if she did.

“It was nice meeting you ladies. I’m sure we’ll see each other around,” Buck said kindly.

“Don’t be a stranger, Major,” Leona said.

Nancy nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“You girls behave while I’m gone,” Bucky joked.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the three typists shared dazed expressions.

“Was he on that list you gave us?” Nancy asked.

“Not a chance,” Holly said. “Bucky says Buck is hopelessly devoted to his girl back home.”

Leona groaned. “That was the most gorgeously unavailable man I’ve ever seen in my life. I need to have a drink or four over it tonight.”

——

The day of Buck’s first mission, Bucky clung to Holly the way a child would a blanket during a bad thunderstorm. He felt ridiculous making the comparison between himself and her, but he knew she’d understand the uncertainty, the waiting. Didn’t say anything when he found lame excuses to keep her working in his office, unsure of how else to express that he didn’t want to be alone with himself, with his thoughts.

The practice missions were just that—practice. Though Buck took them on with all of the focus and skill of real missions, there wasn’t much risk involved. Death couldn’t reach out its cold hands and touch them quite yet, but on his first mission, Bucky swore he felt its frigid grip on his shoulder, trying to pull him away with it somehow. Learned how to ignore it by his second mission, not to see its face behind his eyes every time he blinked or hear it calling for him with each burst of flak. But he couldn’t tell Buck, no way for him to understand until he was up there and experienced it for himself. Maybe that was why Holly sometimes retreated into silence when it came to Stan.

Wondered how she felt before she got the news about Stan. Was she expecting it? Had a gut feeling that she hoped was indigestion? Blindsided and crushed? He couldn’t bring himself to ask. Wasn’t sure he could handle knowing her answer. 

Instead, they talked baseball, as she’d given him a Lou Gehrig card she got from an old pack of Big League Chewing Gum, having inexplicably brought her modest collection of baseball cards over to England with her. Had a Yankee among her more treasured cards and didn’t think twice about giving it to him. So Lou found his home among Bucky’s two rosaries and various homegrown talismans that carried his hope and superstition. Took the place of his lucky deuce which he’d given to Buck that morning, not that he’d dream of biting a corner off of it.

He scratched the bridge of his nose, avoiding eye contact with her as he said, “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“What do you mean ‘putting up with you’?” she asked. “I like being with you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He almost couldn’t believe how close they’d become in the weeks since they met. So close that every so often, they’d be asked if they were a couple, brushing off the assumptions with laughter and the answer that no, they weren’t. Hell, even Buck assumed it before he met Holly. But really, he couldn’t think of how much would change between them if they were. Didn’t matter. He knew things would be okay if he had Holly around, no matter how that looked.

“Hey, shouldn’t they be getting back soon?”

“Shit, you’re right. I’ll see you later, Holly.”

“See you, Bucky,” she said, taking his hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “Take care.”

He nodded silently, slipping the hand she held into his jacket pocket when he turned to leave, wanting the warm, comforting feeling to last until he could see ‘Our Baby’ approaching and finally relax. A smile spread across his face, but there was no way for her to have seen it.

#bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #masters of the air #bucky egan #john egan #masters of the air x oc #mota x oc #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #mota #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #ch: holly

[philsmeatylegss]

A huge underlying view among many terfs that frustrates me beyond belief is Islamophobia. I have seen countless of posts from Terfs using the stories of abused Muslim women as an excuse to say the whole religion is oppressive and sexist. I have seen so many posts about how hijabs and burkas are oppressive and women who choose to wear them are working against women’s rights. They often imply that most of, if not all, Muslim men are violent in the name of religion. They fail to make the obvious connection between the fact that there’s a huge difference between fascist governments using Islam as an excuse to oppress women and actual Islam and Muslims. Ofc women should have the right to chose if they want to be religious, if they want to cover up, if they want to take on a submissive role. No one is denying that. The reasons those rights are taken from women, often in the Middle East (which is what terfs often reference), is the fault of the government, not the religion. Yeah, there are abusive men who will use Islam as an excuse for their actions. Just like there are Christian men who will use Christianity as an excuse for their actions. Same goes for pretty much all religions. People covering up their abuse under the guise of religion is not limited to just Islam. It happens in most religions. It’s happened pretty much since religion started.

It’s just so ignorant and out of touch and you know they have never spoken to a Muslim person. If they did, they would know Muslims are the same as Christians and Jews and atheists and so on. It’s not some evil curse. It’s a religion that mainly focuses on peace. And to demonize it, using the horrors women have faced as an excuse is just so messed up. Most people on the internet haven’t realized there’s a big difference between a religion and people using that religion as a coverup for their shitty actions. The existence of governments using Islam to persecute women is because of bad people, not Islam. Terfs just want one group of people to be declared bad so they can blame everything on them. They claim to want to protect all women, and then condemn an entire religion. They talk about horrid treatment of women and blame religion rather than the perpetrators. It’s a very common belief a lot of them hold and I never see it mentioned and it just really pisses me off.

#I haven’t gone on a terf blocking spree in a while but I just remembered one of those kinds of posts #I’m not lying when I say I have seen a lot of posts with this message #and it just makes me so mad #I was raised in a pretty much completely catholic town and I’ve always been insanely ignorant so it took me a solid four years to realize m #my close friend was Muslim #I didn’t realize it because she acted exactly the same #the only different thing was she didn’t eat meat and her family didn’t like to celebrate Halloween #that’s all I fucking knew #she was just a normal fucking person and her family was a normal fucking family #I hung out with her family when we were still friends and they were normal #and actually really kind #people #Muslims aren’t some exotic species #they are exactly the same #when not being influenced by the government #most Muslims just want a normal life just like how most Christian’s and Jews and atheists want a normal life #I just hate Islamophobia so much and I hate terfs so much and it just isn’t surprising the two overlap #before some lost angry terf finds this #no I’m not saying all terfs believe this #I’m sure there are Muslim terfs #I’m just talking about what I’ve seen when I’ve gone on blocking sprees #rae’s rambles #fuck terfs #terfs don’t touch #not terf safe #fuck radfems #tw terfs

[ambiencowboy]

The idea that men are just inherently ~biologically~ more violent than women is bad for many different reasons but one of the biggest imo is that it really lets shitty men off the hook like. It’s not that men can’t help being sexist douchebags, no one is born that way. They are shaped by the sexist society we live in, and men are perfectly capable of unlearning those things and becoming better people. The “All men are violent sexist emotionally stunted beasts”line of thinking gives shitty men an excuse to be shitty yaknow it’s like. They can just blame it on their “biology” and ignore any sense of personal responsibility.

#sorry sometimes tumblr shows me a terf post and I get mad #also I’m not talking about people venting by saying ‘fuck all men’ #there’s a huge difference between expressing frustration with how men are socially conditioned #and actually believing it’s some sort of innate characteristic #I’m not trying to conflate cathartic hyperbole with like. a core worldview #sorry for how these tags are worded idk how to talk without sounding pretentious asf lol #gender roles #feminism #ramble #gender politics

[labyrynth]

you KNOW someone is only going to have the most braindead takes that are an egregious misreading of the text AT BEST when they start talking about “umm i only talk about CANON”

bonus if they have at least one post whining about “why do all of these loser FANON FREAKS keep getting MAD at me for tagging my posts APPROPRIATELY?? i’m not “anti” ANYTHING!!!!! i’m talking about my super niche worst-faith interpretation of an egregious misreading the CANON version of this character and if they can’t handle that, then maybe THEY need to REREAD the BOOK”

#fandom wank #this is specifically about mdzs and some of the worst most godawful takes i have seen in a long time #yes specifically jgy and jc antis bc they seem to be the most rabid and lacking in reading comprehension #there’s almost a GUARANTEE that they’re one of 1) anti ship 2) ‘umm stop FETISHIZING GAY PEOPLE’ or 3) radfem/terf #99% of the time #sometimes all of the above! #i’m TIIIIIIRED #like ok if you have to make a ‘disclaimer’ that says you do in fact believe you’re talking about canon that should tell you something #like maybe that should tell you that your reading is so far removed from the actual text it’s no longer recognizable as what you claim #is (supposedly) ‘canon’ #in other words maybe that should tell you that you lack reading comprehension and you should shut the fuck UP

[evilratfag]

#i’m so fucking tired #why can’t people believe us when we say that their transphobic rhetoric actually affects real fucking people #ig it’s cause they’d have to realize that they may very well be responsible for countless deaths #and that goes directly against all they believe about about how they’re oppressed and so can’t possibly be the oppressors to anybody else #this is all directed at terfs btw #genuinely from the bottom of my heart #fuck terfs

[vexingwoman]

still thinking about that deranged ask I received earlier, where the sender assumed I was a lesbian and said I’m not welcome in queer spaces.

the thing is, I’m straight—and I don’t believe I’ve ever said or done anything on here that could give anyone the impression that I’m a lesbian.

except for being an evil terf, of course. this conflation of terfs and lesbians is something I see more and more often. looney troons thinking all terfs are lesbians, and all lesbians are terfs.

when they say “kill all terfs” or “punch terfs” I think we all know what they really mean.

#terfblr #radical feminism #terfsafe #radblr #gender critical #radical feminist safe #misogny #sexism #trans logic #gender abolition

[theabigailthorn]

Hey I’ve been a fan for a little while now, and I just wanted to say that you’ve been an inspiration for me, a younger transfemme. But I do wanna also ask: what’s it like being a trans woman with her life together? I’m 19 (as of sending), been on hrt for almost 5 months, and have been trans for a year and change. But I’m scared. So, I guess, I wanted to ask: does being trans ever become the norm, my baseline? What’s it like after 2-3 years? And does it get any less confusing or scary?

I think there are a few things going on here.

I don't have my life together as much as it might seem; I just don't show you all the ways it's not. I don't talk publicly about the auditions I don't get, or the things I try and fail at, or the insecurities in my own head that hold me back sometimes, or the handful of decisions I've made that were bad calls and which still keep me up occasionally. I've talked about trauma and mental illness in the past, but I only ever discuss stuff I'm comfortably over - when I'm overwhelmed or in the middle of a crisis I don't post about it. I don't set out to deceive you by presenting myself that way, I just keep my most private stuff private. Everybody has failures and regrets and insecurities: "it's a sign of having lived," as my friend Phoebe told me today. But you see a curated version of me that appears not only more together than the real person, but more together than any real person.

Also, if you're 19 a lot of your life hasn't been in your control until pretty recently and a lot of it still might not be. I'd say it's okay to not feel like you have it all together. You just transitioned, which I think is one of the hardest things a human being can do: you can give yourself credit for that even if you feel like you're not settled into it yet. Congratulations!

As for it becoming the baseline, I mean yeah? Kinda? At least for me. Sometimes I forget. I had a moment today in the gym where I saw a man and I was like "Oh yeah, I used to be one of them, sortof? Weird!" The first year is the hardest, or so they say. I wouldn't say I get less confused or scared now, just scared and confused in different ways. I worry less about getting attacked in the street than I did in my first year, for example. (I'm lucky and privileged in that regard.) But I worry a lot more about other people. I struggle a lot with survivor's guilt, which is something only people who survive get! Anyone who's had a drink with me in the last six months has heard me beat myself up because the night of The Prince premiere in New York was the night of Brianna Taylor's vigil in the UK. That wasn't a deliberate decision - the premiere was booked and paid for months before she was even killed - but I've become a lot more sensitive to those sorts of feelings precisely because I spend less time worrying about myself. I'm more aware now of what my transness means for other people. Like, I made an ironic joke when I came out that I'd become The Transgender Princess of TERF Island, and it's kindof haunted me since - I didn't set out to become "a famous trans person" but it's happened a little bit and it's going to happen a lot more next year. That comes with serious responsibilities and a few mild drawbacks, as well as perks, obviously. So I guess that's a longwinded way of saying I might be a weird person to ask this question because, at least for right now, my transness, my whole self, doesn't just belong to me.

Oh also, some great advice I got from my friends: Paris: "Only change the things that bother you on your good days," and Mattie: "Don't believe anything you think about your life after 9pm."

[genderkoolaid]

hey i’m sorry to bother you but what are some warning signs that someone is a terf? i would very much like to be out as gender-fluid at my small town southern school (surprisingly supportive) but the school nurse had that “fallen sisters” book on her desk :( i don’t want to put myself in danger and i don’t know if she was reading it because she’s a terf or because she was curious about what was in it. thank you for your time!

Quick note: a lot of transphobes are not TERFs; they don't subscribe to the movement of radical feminism. But especially right now TERF ideas have become more widespread, since a lot of transphobic people turned to TERF speakers and authors for support. But that's also because a lot of TERF ideas meld very nicely with traditional patriarchal ideas (like the idea that the gender binary is required for safety of women). Things like "trans men are manipulated girls suffering from misogyny!" has gotten really popular recently, but in the past your average transphobe would probably be thinking more along the lines of "huh what a freaky dyke" than assuming it's the patriarchy's fault trans men exist.

Anyways! That's all to say that someone might use transphobic or radical feminist rhetoric without being a radical feminist themselves. Here are some things to watch out for:

Use of "female" and "male"; in medical contexts I tend to give people more grace, but if she's really insistent on sex language that's a red flag.

Highly concerned with pushing womanhood on students AFAB; if they're a TERF this is less likely to look like "pink and bows" and more likely focus on Female Power, uteri and menstruation, and identity with womanhood as a feminist act itself. Comments like "remember you can dress/act however you want and still be a woman!" can be well-meaning but they can also be a subtle way of trying to prevent GNC students from thinking about transitioning.

Fearmongering about the effects of HRT (especially T); educating about all possible effects is important, but if she focuses on negative effects, treats them as horrifying or more dangerous/common then they actually are, that's a red flag. Especially when it's tied to reproductive ability. Same when it comes to surgeries.

If she believes ROGD (rapid onset gender dysphoria) is a real thing, she's transphobic. If she doesn't use that term she might talk about transness/transmasculinity being a social contagion or trend, something young girls are pressured into (esp. by misogyny/lesbophobia), even if this is dressed up with "obviously SOME trans people are real but there's just too many now!!"

Of course, any kind of weirdness around trans people in locker rooms/bathrooms is a major red flag

If she does end up being transphobic, since you mentioned your school is supportive you might be able to tell the admins about that and have them back you up. If there are other trans people at your school, definitely ask them if they've noticed any transphobic behavior from her (you can ask cis folks too although they may be less aware of what subtler transphobia sounds like)

#m. #ask box

[communistkenobi]

this might make me sound ignorant but is the radfem part of term not about hating men? they hate trans people, they hate men and they view both as predatory, obviously men are not their primary targets but I feel like it would be incorrect to say that they don't hate men, especially since many of them believe in gender separatism (which is bs for numerous reasons). it's wrong to bring up men every time someone talks about the transmisogyny terfs spew bc that would be derailing the conversation but can men (trans/cis/whatever) not express how they've been hurt by terfs in their own posts or conversations? apologies if ive completely misinterpreted what you were saying I just want to understand the topic better

I’m not disputing that terfs hate men. However, I think it’s an error to highlight their hatred of men as ideologically significant. Sure they talk about hating men, but their political alliances reveal that dismantling patriarchy, or a desire to oppress men, is not a concern for them, given that they support the criminalisation of sex work, the state enforcement of sex as biologically determined, and are allied with the same right wing groups (such as the Heritage Foundation in the US) that want to criminalise abortion and reinstate “traditional” white western gender norms. If you view terf political goals through the lens of hating men, then their political efforts have overwhelmingly been a massive failure. Which I don’t think is very useful analysis!

A hatred of men is also not politically useful in general, because there is no money to be made or political battles to be won hating men. Hatred of men is not a systemic issue because men are not oppressed as a social group on the basis of their manhood. There is no political or financial infrastructure built on the foundation of hating men, nor is there infrastructure dedicated to maintaining a systemic hatred of men. Hating trans people, however, is extremely financially and politically lucrative, particularly hatred of trans women/transfems, because of how transphobia and misogyny intersect with and reinforce one another. There are ample political, financial, medical, and social institutions that operate on the maintenance of patriarchy, many of which terfs share a political platform with. So terf hatred of men is clearly not that big a deal given how willing they are to ally with right wing groups and fascists, who are the last people on earth to tolerate the oppression of men as a political goal.

This is why people (myself included) take umbrage with the continued insistence that terfs hate men as a central foundation of their beliefs. It’s not incorrect to say that they hate men, but hating men is not the problem with terfs. Hatred of men is not an inherently reactionary position anymore than hating cis people is. The problem is the way terfs conceptualise gender, and the political goals that flow from that conceptualisation, which affects all trans people but primarily affect trans women/transfems. The spectre they raise about bathrooms, about sports, is always the age-old transmisogynistic conspiracy of “a man in a dress” “invading women’s spaces” because the historical legacy of transmisogyny looms large in public consciousness, and reinforced by medical/psychiatric institutions in particular, in a way that hatred and fear of trans men does not (autogynephilia exists as a mental illness but autophallophilia does not, for example. Julia Serrano talks about this in Whipping Girl if you want to read more on the subject). Terfs don’t care about trans men in men’s sports, they don’t raise the counter-spectre of trans men being mass assaulted in bathrooms by cis men who discover that they’re “really women” - these are not rhetorical moves that are interesting or useful to them, because it does not position them as victims. Trans men are hurt by their transphobic rhetoric, suffer under transphobic laws that are passed, and face transphobic discrimination from people in their lives as a result of how mainstream transphobia is (and I am speaking from significant and traumatic personal experience on this front). We are not, however, the face of the transgender boogeyman, and we are not the primary target of terfs. We are targets because we are trans, not because we are men. To be dismissive of the claim that terfs hate men is not a dismissal of the pain and violence transmascs go through, because our oppression is not founded on our manhood.

So when you see terf political efforts and terf rhetoric, their obsessive focus on trans women as arch villains who need to be destroyed, and you come to the conclusion that a hatred of men is the animating force behind terf political activity - that is a transmisogynistic conclusion, both because you are framing their transmisogyny as something that is primarily informed by a hatred of men, and because “terfs hate men” is a non-sequitur in discussions about the political and social damage that their beliefs cause. If terfs hate men, they do so as a hobby, and I don’t really give a fuck about their hobbies

#asks #even old new york was once new amsterdam #transmisogyny tw #transphobia tw #book club #I haven’t read all of whipping girl btw just excerpts #I need to read it though lol. I’ll add it to the pile #note hell #effortpost

[venus-haze]

Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.

You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.

“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.

“The most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Must be pretty busy then.”

“How about you? Where’s Countess?” you asked.

Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what you’d been hearing through Vought’s extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Payback—including Countess herself—would rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.

“She’s at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitched at me because I wouldn’t go. She won’t be back until Friday.”

“Soldier Boy, I can’t just—“

“Sure you can. I mean, I’m technically your boss too, aren’t I?” he asked. “So, I say there’s no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.”

You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. “Alright. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

He grinned. “Now we’re talking. You keep that minibar stocked?”

“Pick your poison.”

“Whiskey?”

“Sure.”

At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people who’d come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, you’d been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habit—not that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right. 

He handed you a shot glass. “What should we toast to?”

“To taking next week off.”

“Yeah? What’ve you got planned?”

You threw back your shot. “Nothing.”

“That’s no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?”

You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was America’s superhero and Vought’s cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.

“I might need some convincing.”

“Then make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, he’d have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.

You glanced at the open door. “Someone might see.”

“Are you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor. 

“Heels stay on,” he said, his back to you. “Everything else off. Everything.”

With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.

He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. “Look at you sitting pretty for me.” His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. “Drink up, sweetheart.”

And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.

“See how much fun we have together?” he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. “Could do that all next week.”

He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.”

“Fuck,” you whispered.

“What was that?” 

You groaned in frustration. “Just fuck me already.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.

It’d been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk. 

Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth. 

“Harder,” you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.

“I go any harder, I’m gonna break you in half, and I don’t wanna do that until I’ve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.”

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“Whatever the fuck I want. Not like I don’t already.”

You moaned. “Soldier Boy—”

“I’m not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,” he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. “Oh shit, you want that, don’t you?”

“Yes—oh my god!” you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. “Yesyesyes—fuck!” Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release. 

He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust. 

You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didn’t want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell weren’t in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.

You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.

“Hey,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You good?”

“Sure,” you managed to answer. “Except now I don’t know how I’m gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.”

“The ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miami—“

You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. “I might.”

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy the boys #the boys x reader #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys soldier boy #the boys imagine #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy smut #im a feminist i promise #but do you ever think about how that man could literally break you in half if he wanted to?

[radfemfyodor]

I don’t understand Liberals due to many reasons. One of them is believing that transphobia is comparable to actual bigotry.

For context, I shared my thoughts, that I feel like many, if not most people who are afraid of being accused of being terf are afraid not because they disagree with terfs, but because they fear harassment. As one of the examples I mentioned my own situation and how I was afraid to admit that I’m a RadFem, because I was too scared of how people (both in real life and online) would react to this information.

A Liberal obviously had to compare transphobia to actual bigotry, such as racism. “God, imagine if this person hated literally any other group based on any other dumbfuck reasoning” - Biology is a dumbfuck reasoning? I will try to explain my beliefs again, because Liberals water down my views to “Ugh I hate those troons! 😡 I hate them because I’m a hater and have no actual reasoning! 🤬”

Gender is a social construct based on stereotypes about women and men. Without stereotypes about women and men there is no gender and vice versa.

Let’s first look at trans women/transfems: Transfem to “validate” his “identity” will do activities usually associated with women such as wearing color pink, skirts, dresses, makeup, having long hair and doing nails. These activities don’t involve only physical appearance. Transfems often sexualize themselves on purpose, which isn’t only wearing revealing clothing. For example, many transfems like to use terms (mostly for female genitalia) from pornography, especially in their usernames. What I’m going to say now doesn’t specifically happen only in the transfem community, as it happens in transgender communities in general, but from my own experience it happens in transfem spaces more often - they defend pornography with their life, spread lies that Sex Work is “empowering”, their pages are full of pornographic content. If you tell them about the realities of Sex Work, they call you a swerf and bigot. Trans women’s/transfems’ “identifying” as women is in reality “identifying” with misogynistic stereotypes.

Now let’s look at trans men/transmascs: Transmasc to “validate” her “identity” will basically live comfortably in her body. She will stop shaving, wearing makeup, clothing that makes her uncomfortable such as short skirts and heels. There’s a high chance that she will cut her hair and not care about her clothing at all except the fact that it has to be comfortable to wear. Being “transmasc” is just not fitting patriarchal roles for women - trans men/transmasc are women who don’t fit into the patriarchal norms.

What I’m saying doesn’t come out of nowhere, I was a TRA for almost 4 years. All I have said comes from my and other people’s experiences. What I said about transfems is harsher and longer, because I’m tired of males “identifying” with our oppression, invading female only spaces which also leads to female only spaces getting removed. Almost no lesbian bars, because males who “identify” as women can go there and if you refuse to let them in, you are accused of bigotry. Males take part of women’s sports, which is unfair. Women and men are separated in sports due to differences in our biology. Males going to women’s restrooms and change rooms, often to harass women in these places, and if you don’t let them to go there, you are called a bigot. Notice how transmascs don’t invade male only spaces at all - transmasc don’t demand to go to men’s restrooms and change rooms, aren’t taking part in men’s sports either.

All these genders are just harmful stereotypes, making someone believe that they “were born in wrong body”. You weren’t “born in wrong body” because you don’t fit patriarchal gender norms. Liberals are convinced that I’m against gender, because I “hate” trans people and “I want them dead”. I’m against gender, because I want women to be “masculine” and men to “feminine” without them believing that there is something wrong with their bodies. I don’t want people to take hormones they shouldn’t and mutilate their reproductive organs, because they don’t fit stereotypes about their biological sex.

“Imagine if they were, say, racist and saying how hard it is to be a racist nowadays” How not denying biology is same as racism? HOW? Liberals have the weirdest comparisons, recently I got compared to HITLER… I don’t believe that transgender people aren’t humans, that they’re inferior, that they deserve to be assaulted and killed. Comparing me to actual bigots, because I’m aware that humans can’t change their biological sex is beyond crazy.

“No shit it’s hard and sad and annoying to be a hateful person, we don’t want that type of shit in society, It is unacceptable. It SHOULD be hard and make you afraid to be an out-and-proud bigot” I’m not a “hateful person”, I just don’t deny biology. It’s so… weird and stupid that nowadays being aware of the fact that women are adult human females and men are adult human males is bigotry. It’s regressive to deny these facts, accept them for your own good.

I’m not a “hateful” person, my “hate” is a genuine concern - I don’t want people to suffer mentally and physically, because they don’t fit patriarchal norms. Instead of encouraging people to take hormones they shouldn’t and mutilate their reproductive organs, let’s make them aware that it’s completely okay to not fit patriarchal stereotypes about their biological sex.

#gender critical #radblr #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact

[eve-made-the-right-choice]

You know, I get blocked a lot by genderists, and every time they block me, they always send me a me a message specifically asking why I, a “terf,” am following them (in addition to “telling me off”). But I can’t answer, because they blocked me. So I’m gonna answer here:

It’s because you made a good post. Because you said something that spoke to me, or you have lots of good opinions on many different topics, and I want to hear what you have to say. Or because I like your art. And it’s quite likely that I didn’t know you were “queer,” because I don’t obsessively vet blogs before I follow them. And if I DID know that you were “queer,” I was okay with that. Because I believe that it’s healthy and good to expose myself to the opinions of people I disagree with, so I don’t get trapped in an echo chamber. It’s quite likely that I agreed with a lot of the things you had to say.

And I’m gonna be honest, I really don’t understand why you’re messaging me when you’re blocking me. When I block people, it’s because I want to become invisible to them. Say (for example) I blocked a user because I discovered they were a neo-nazi. I know that nazis are dangerous. If I go to their messages and tell them that I’m blocking them, I’ve accomplished three things:

1: I’ve informed them of our conflict, which they may or may not have known about;

2: I’ve made it personal, therefore motivating them to obsess over it, and

3: I’ve drawn attention to my username and helpfully saved it in their messages for them, thereby making it easier for them to stalk me and/or harass me through other accounts, or even even dox me to their nazi friends.

Whereas if I simply block them without messaging them, they may not notice that I’m not showing up in their feed anymore and gradually forget about me. Which is ideal, because dangerous people hold grudges and act on them.

So if you’re messaging “terfs” before blocking them, you’re either:

A) naive about internet safety because you’ve never experienced harassment from dangerous people either personally or through a friend, or

B) simply don’t believe that “terfs” are dangerous.

And let me tell you, as a long-time radical feminist who HAS had friends who were harassed and stalked by dangerous individuals, giving them your attention is a sure-fire way to fuel their hate. Arguing with them makes their hatred worse, and you will never get the last word in because stalkers are fueled by anger. It energizes them, and they like it.

Now don’t worry, this is not a threat. If you’ve sent me a message before blocking me, I’ve already forgotten about you. I don’t have the energy to hold grudges, and I never hated you to begin with. I genuinely believe that most people I disagree with are just average people who are trying to get through their day, and arguing is usually not worth anyone’s time. I’m telling you all of this because, even though I disagree with gender ideology, I don’t want you to endanger yourself by getting the attention of a dangerous individual.

However, if you have been messaging “terfs” before you block them for years and never once experienced retaliation or been afraid of them retaliating, you should take a few minutes to really, I mean really think about why that is.

Best of luck, even though you would never wish me the same.

[spacelazarwolf]

actually yeah i would like to talk about how other queer people specifically were the reason it took me so long to come out as a gay trans man

(this is really fucking long, but especially if you’re not a trans man or trans masc, i’d like you to read it all the way through.)

as a preface, i’m not a kid. i’m a fully fledged adult who has been in the queer community for about ten years now, both online and offline. most of the queer people i know irl are my age or older. i turn 30 next year. also before you use the words ‘chronically online’, consider the fact that the things people say online are what they actually believe and will take out into the world with them. 

anyway.

when i try to talk about transphobia directed at trans men and mascs from within the queer community, or lateral aggression from trans people who are not trans men or trans mascs (this is not just trans women and femmes, this includes any trans people who aren’t trans men or mascs. i have heard some vile shit out of the mouths of other ‘afab’* trans people), people often respond with “but cishets are the real enemy!!! they’re the ones causing all the actual damage and oppression!!!!!” and while i get the sentiment, that is where you’re wrong my friend. the thing causing my oppression isn’t cishets, it’s the cisheteropatriarchy. cishets tend to be the ones that chug that koolaid most readily, but queer people, even other trans people, have gleefully gulped down gallons of the stuff, and that specifically is what made it so difficult for me to accept myself and come out.

*i fucking hate the term ‘afab’ but this post is already so goddamn long

when i first entered the lgbtq community, it was on facebook in the early 2010′s. before that, i’d been stuck in a conservative small town and didn’t even know that not being a girl was an option. so obviously when i encountered a bunch of people that were like me, i was ecstatic and wanted to be a part of their community. because i still thought i was a girl at the time, i was immediately funneled into sapphic spaces. for the most part, they were great and lovely, i just felt left out because i couldn’t relate to the way they talked about their love of women. but i knew i was some sort of fruity, which meant clearly i was just repressing my attraction to women, so i needed to try harder to like women. some of this came from the things i’d heard in those groups, but a lot of it was just pressure from myself to deal with a reality that didn’t make sense.

the longer i spent in those groups, though, the more i ran into rhetoric like ‘men are inherently incapable of love and respect, it is impossible to be in a truly fulfilling relationship with a man’ and ‘masculinity is inherently evil and femininity is inherently good.’ some people tried to have nuance, but a lot, especially cis women, didn’t. in those groups, people were mocked for being in relationships with men, they were told that if they had a boyfriend they weren’t even allowed to mention it in the group because the group needed to be a ‘space completely free of men’, people were told that if they were being abused by a man then it was their fault because they should have been dating a woman instead, they should have known better. i was one of those people who was blamed for my own abuse.

as i started to realize that shit maybe i’m not a girl, there was a lot of pressure for me to make sure that i always stayed within the confines of ‘non man.’ because the second i slid over that line, it was over. i was lost. does that rhetoric sound familiar? it’s terf rhetoric, and the irony is that all of these spaces explicitly condemned terfs.

i was in a group for ‘non men’ and when people in the group came out as trans men, they were asked to leave. the network of groups that this one was connected to was of the mindset that trans men oppressed all nonmen, including cis women. the reasoning given was ‘it would be misgendering!!!!!!!’ but behind closed internet doors, the actual reasons were very clear. on a scale of ‘oppressed’ to ‘privileged’ it went trans women -> cis women -> trans men -> cis men, with nonbinary people being inserted into whatever category was most convenient for argument’s sake. 

after that, i stuffed my doubts down for years, terrified of crossing that horrible threshold from ‘nonman’ to ‘man.’ even now, i still cling to the term ‘nonbinary’ because it makes other queer people view me as a more complex person. as soon as i started tentatively using the word ‘man’ to describe myself without all the disclaimers of ‘but don’t worry i’m not actually a man!!!!! i’m still a person!!!!!!!’, the way people interacted with me changed drastically.

i was the exact same person, still non-passing, still gender noncomforming, still someone with a very complex relationship to gender because of my sexuality and being autistic, but because that word ‘man’ was there, suddenly people felt they had the right to silence me and speak over me. cis women who were being blatantly transphobic dismissed me saying ‘i don’t argue with men’, queer people dismissed me saying ‘stop mansplaining’ and telling me that regardless of my presentation, regardless of how i was treated out in the world, i was still privileged because i identified with the label of ‘man.’

i made a video on tik tok about how traumatic it was to come to terms with being a man as someone who has been hurt by cis men, and an old mutual of mine started tagging me in cis men’s videos about unlearning toxic masculinity, telling me i needed to watch myself if i was going to be a man. another mutual also shared in that trauma, and theirs was exacerbated by a racial element. i tried to make more videos about my experiences, documented by journey with top surgery, but as soon as i started speaking loudly about including trans men and mascs in the fight for abortion rights, everything went downhill.

terfs started to find my account and get my videos taken down. queer cis women claimed i was ‘silencing women’ and used the ‘trans man’ in my bio to claim ‘mansplaining’ despite the fact i am nonpassing and the world sees me as a woman. a trans femme stitched one of my videos to chide me for saying that repealing roe v wade affected trans men and mascs, because i should have been talking about how it affected trans women and femmes and the rest of the queer community, not ‘centering men.’ a trans woman commented on their post in my defense, and they deleted her comment. after that, cis women reported by account by the dozens and i was eventually banned. 

that’s when i realized, men hadn’t caused me trauma. the cisheteropatriarchy had caused me trauma. the system that had allowed my abusive ex to treat me the way he did, that allowed my friends to watch and say nothing, that allowed a woman who was a bystander in a public domestic violence incident to complain to us that we were ruining her day at the mall and threatening to call the police on both of us rather than standing up for someone who was literally publicly being physically attacked. the system that allowed cis women to say, quite literally, that because trans men and mascs were a numerical minority of the people who would be affected by the repealing of roe v wade that we shouldn’t be in the spotlight, that cis women should be centered, that it was somehow ‘misogyny’ to point out that anti-abortion laws quite literally would affect trans men and mascs more severely and in more ways than cis women.

women and other queer people may not have been the ones hitting me or writing these bills, but for years they were the ones telling me my abuse was my fault, that i was morally incorrect for being a man, that i could never love or be loved if i was a man, that i should sit down and shut up, regardless of how much my community was hurting and dying. that i would always be an afterthought, if even.

i think very often about two tik toks i saw of a trans masc person talking about transition, and one said “you spend the first half of your life being subjugated by the sins of men, then you transition and you spend the rest of your life paying for the sins of men” and the other commented about another user’s video saying “a beard, facial hair, stands in the way of this person being perceived as innocent and being perceived as capable of roofieing your drink.”

and i realized that’s part of why i’m terrified to go on t. completely separate from the fact that i have a career which relies on my voice so going on t would absolutely nuke that, i have already experienced so much aggression and isolation based on just identifying as a man. i cannot even begin to imagine how much worse it would get if i started to look ‘like a man.’ i have lamented the fact that i’m forced to lose my softness, whether i want to or not, that the very community that wants to break down barriers and liberate people are the ones who are forcing me into a box for the sake of convenience in online arguments.

and people can mock me and go on about ‘toxic masculinity’ all they want, but this is a hard truth about the community that we really need to start talking about, because i have absolutely no doubt that experiences like mine are what contributes to trans men and masc’s astronomically high rates of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, etc.

i feel more like myself than i ever have in my life. and i also feel more isolated than i ever have in my life. there was a moment where things finally clicked for me, and for a fraction of a second i was so excited. i wanted to share my revelation with my community and be celebrated. but then i thought back about the way people had talked about men, trans men, masculinity, loving men, and that little tiny moment of celebration was brought to a screeching halt. i realized that every other time i’d seen a gay trans man or masc come out and talk about their gender and sexuality, the responses had been peppered with ‘sorry for ur loss’, ‘ew lol’, ‘so u chose to become a man?????’, ‘omg u have to date men and be a man????? i feel sorry for u lmao.’

and now as i delve into the dating pool as a gay trans man, i see that all this online bullshit isn’t just ‘chronically online,’ it’s manifested in real life too. the way queer trans men and mascs are treated as entitled for wanting to date cis queer men, the way people respond if we say we’re unhappy with just being a hookup or a fling because we should be happy anyone wanted us in the first place. the way we’re treated as fetishizers and freaks, the way people specifically search through the ‘ftm’ tag on grindr looking for ‘sissy boys/femme bottoms/etc’ then get angry when you don’t respond to them. the way other queer people respond to you when you try to talk about this. the way trans men and mascs who can’t go on t are treated as less than men but also aren’t allowed to talk about their experience of someone perceived as ‘less than men’, the way testosterone is spoken about in queer communities as a poison, as something that makes you ugly and disfigured and gross and dirty when for so many of us it’s literally lifesaving medical treatment. the way we can’t talk about the things we go through without random cis people dragging trans women and femmes into it when, even though there are some concerning trends of lateral violence that need to be discussed, most of the aggression comes from cis queer women.

so when trans men make posts or host events or just do anything to celebrate trans manhood and masculinity, and your first reaction is to make fun of us, project your frustration with the cisheteropatriarchy, or respond with “we don’t need positivity for men”, i want you to think about the number of trans men and mascs who kill ourselves, and i want you to think “maybe i should not say this, maybe i should just do this one thing to make life a little easier for them, even if i don’t get it.”

#trans #transgender #trans man #trans masc #queer #trans community #queer community #lgbtq #transphobia #transandrophobia #transmisandry #antimasculism #it does not fucking matter what we call it #what matters is that it's killing us and y'all don't want to acknowledge it

[nothorses]

Question about your points on the post about TERFs vs TIRFs you made bc it has me questioning a lot of the stuffI've been taught:

Why is it TERF ideology to think that women are oppressed by the patriarchy? Why is it TERF ideology to be intimidated by men if you’ve been a victim of sexual violence at the hands of men? Women (both trans and Cis) face so much violence all over the world, why is it radical feminism to acknowledge that?

I’m genuinely curious because I want to deconstruct any harmful biases but it feels incredibly harmful to dismiss violence against women under the guise of “talking about this is all radfem ideology”.

I'm glad you're asking these questions, and I'm glad you're being critical about that post!

You're absolutely right that it would be harmful to "dismiss violence against women under the guise of “talking about this is all radfem ideology”- and I don't want anyone to take that whole list as A New Set Of Rules without thinking any further about it.

The point of that list was not to say "all of this is Bad", but rather to lay out some logical through-lines and how these ideas all work together to reach harmful conclusions.

Any radicalization pipeline relies on a kind of "rabbithole", or as @psychoticallytrans recently called it, "milk before meat". The idea is that you're given the "easy" stuff first, the stuff that is or feels right, and then those ideas steadily lead into more and more extreme ideas.

Women are oppressed by the patriarchy, and pretty much every branch of feminism is going to agree with you there; that's not a radfem-only idea. What distinguishes radfems from the rest is that they believe "the patriarchy" is embodied by every single living man; every man is The Patriarchy, and every man oppresses every woman. No woman can oppress a man, no woman can harm a man... etc.

You can see where we lose the plot here: is the patriarchy a system, or is it every single man? Who, then, do we count as men? How old is a man? What about other intersecting forms of oppression?

One of my go-to questions to ask, when taking a critical look at some of these ideas, is: under this ideology, are white women oppressed by black men? How? Can white women do harm to black men? How would this ideology answer these questions, and how would they (do they) deal with the archetype of the "Karen"; a white woman using her white womanhood to enact violence on black men through state institutions of white supremacy, like law enforcement? (Hint: radfems tend to complain that "Karen" is strictly a misogynistic insult.)

To answer your other two questions:

Why is it TERF ideology to be intimidated by men if you’ve been a victim of sexual violence at the hands of men?

(For context:)

Short answer: it isn't.

Long answer: My point here was to outline the way that the "inherent woman trauma and justified fear of all men" is weaponized against trans women, first and foremost, but there's more nuance here as well.

There is a difference between a traumatic response that you cannot control and need time to heal from, and a fear being actively encouraged as "justified" and "accurate" by those around you. There is a difference between exercising practical caution (even if you shouldn't have to), and fueling paranoia and a fear of the outside world. There is a difference between grappling with your own personal healing process after a traumatic event, and generalizing a traumatic response to the entire world & everyone in it.

Some people's trauma after a sexual assault latches onto the gender of the person who hurt them. That is understandable. Some people, knowing they are perceived as women, take extra precautions to ensure their safety from potential sexual assault and harassment at the hands of, predominately, cis and straight men. That is understandable. But when that translates to "you should fear all men at all times because any of them can and will rape you given any opportunity to do so", we have a problem.

Again, we should be asking: does this ideology make room for other forms of oppression? Can white women oppress black men? How does this interact with the racist stereotype of the sexually aggressive and dangerous black man? How does this ideology deal with the history of white women accusing black men of sexual assault in order to sic white men and police on them & enact state violence, as well as reinforce white supremacy? (And more! What about trans women and trans lesbians, in particular? Are trans men seen as sexual aggressors instead, if not them? Is either remotely accurate to reality?)

Women (both trans and Cis) face so much violence all over the world, why is it radical feminism to acknowledge that?

This is mostly answered by the above, but again, the short answer here is that it isn't radical feminism to acknowledge misogyny or misogynistic violence.

What is radical feminism is that idea that this violence is enacted by individual men, and not patriarchy as a system of oppression. What is radical feminism is the idea that misogyny is the ultimate form of oppression, and that others only "intersect" in niche circumstances (if at all) that do not need to be included in the majority of these conversations.

In radical feminism, black women's oppression is its own conversation, trans women's oppression is its own conversations, and we can handwave things like "Karens" by saying that's about racism; we don't need to make room for it in feminist theory. When trans-inclusive radfems say "if men could get pregnant", and trans men say "we can", they can respond "you know what we meant"- because they don't believe they need to make space for transphobia in feminist theory.

Another good test: when radfems talk about sexual assault as a woman-specific issue, and transmascs point out that statistically, we face higher rates of sexual assault than cis or trans women (or any other demographic), TERFs will say that's because it's "sex-based oppression" & ignore that our rates are higher, because there's no room for transphobia in their feminism. Trans-inclusive radfems will deny that it's true or important in the first place, because men can't be "more oppressed" than women.

It's not radical feminism to acknowledge misogyny and patriarchy. It is radical feminism to ignore everything else.

#radfem #terf #radical feminism #transphobia #racism

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for implying my sister’s a transphobe?

For context: i’m a nonbinary girl and at the time had recently broken up with my trans girlfriend of a year. I also have very different political stances than my sister, which historically makes me very frustrated (she’s a liberal so very into making sure people have rights but never acknowledging the structural problems that cause minority hatred/prejudice).

So my sister and i were playing a videogame together and having a great and fun time. We were switching the game and there was an add for Hogwarts Legacy on her home screen, which we both saw. I genuinely don’t remember who commented on it first. Either i said something like “ugh, please don’t get that godawful game” or she said something like “oh i wanna get/play this game”. Knowing me it was probably the former. A throwaway comment for sure. Either way, that started a little argument between us.

More context: my sister and i both grew up as avid potterheads. I was even more obsessed with it than her, as a lonely middle schooler with no friends, harry potter was my favorite avenue of escapism and basically my main coping method. Which is why i was so devastated when, in 2020, i found out about all the terf shit jkr had been posting and supporting. It felt like losing a close friend, and so it’s a subject around which i have a lot of pain thinking/talking about. But my sister (cishet) usually thinks I’m overreacting. She doesn’t support jkr’s rhetoric but doesn’t think that supporting her or her work monetarily is a bad thing whatsoever. Mainly she believes it simply won’t make a difference to her bottom line.

Anywho, we were arguing about Hogwarts Legacy and how i think that she shouldn’t give jkr any money regardless of how closely she was involved with the production, since she’s getting profit from it regardless. Sister brings up that she’s seen trans people who want to buy and play the game, and that i’m not the authority on the issue. I tell her that the people saying that are not the majority of the community, and that maybe she should listen to the person who’s actually trans and sitting right next to her. She disagrees, and i say “then just don’t call yourself an ally”. I don’t quite remember what she said, but the argument didn’t last long after that.

We continued playing whatever videogame, and then i excused myself to have dinner. When i came back k stopped by her room to share a fun fact, and she confronted me about how much it hurt her that i said she wasn’t an ally. She told me that she had put in real work by taking an intersectionality class in college, and by attending trans rights protests — all of which i’ve never done (mostly because of mental health issues i won’t get into). She was crying and upset, and i told her i was sorry for having that conversation at a bad time, and for how i phrased my thoughts, but that i didn’t take back what i said about her not being an ally and to say i was would be lying. I didn’t say much more because i saw how upset she was and didn’t think that was a good time to argue about my opinions - so we decided to talk about it later when she was calmer.

I still haven’t started that conversation because i haven’t decided if what i said was unnecessary and made me an asshole, or if what i said was justified and she needed to hear it. It’s been a few months now and we’re both back in college and living hours away from each other in different countries.

So, tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[vaspider]

Intro Post, updated March 1, 2023

I post all asks under the name they were submitted under, and I post them when I feel like answering them. I will never honor a request to answer an ask privately or anonymously. Anon is never turned on. These are hard self-care boundaries. Please block the tag "harassment tag" if you don't want to be subjected to some of the horrible shit I get sent sometimes.

If you like what I do, please consider hiring me, consider buying something from NerdyKeppie (the shop I own with my spouse - we do custom work!), consider buying me a coffee or becoming a Patron or tossing some money in my PayPal tip jar. I am a disabled, queer, fat, Jewish non-binary butch whose entire income is derived from selling Quality Queerwear via our company NerdyKeppie (we also offer patches of all sorts, nerd gear, etc -- if you don’t see it, ask!), Patreon (queer fiction for a dollar) and freelance work.

If asking me to boost a post for you, ask at most once per week, and please don't make that the only way you interact with me, or follow me just to send an ask that I boost your posts. I notice, and I'll end up just blocking you if you make me feel "used." It's gross, y'all. I'm glad to help, but don't use me. It's getting to a point where I'm starting to feel pretty gross about it, and I'm one of the more relaxed ppl about boosting posts, so please don't put me in a position where I feel like I have to stop doing it.

I will not debate my identity or its history with anyone. I am a transmasculine non-binary butch lesbian, a cripple, a dyke, and lots of other things, too. You don't get a vote in that, and if any of those words are words you can't stand to have someone use around you in reference to himself, go ahead and block me. I won't censor my identity for your comfort; I took a long time becoming proud of who I am.

No, I am not an anti or an anti-anti. Literally no one cares about these distinctions outside of Tumblr. Please leave me alone. I am not going to have that conversation. No is a complete sentence.

I’m not interested in interacting with TWERFs, SWERFs, or any sort of exclusionary LGBTQ/queer people. Y'all are exhausting.

Do the work to root out TERF/2nd-wave "man bad woman good" philosophies from your head. Do the work to root out the gendered behavior you were taught. I am not here to raise other people's children.

I am not here to raise other people's children. My daughter is an adult and I am done being responsible for the experiences of a minor. If you read or interact with me, you acknowledge that you chose to do that and I can't control what happens to what I post once I post it on my Tumblr. People will reblog it and I can't control where it ends up. I can only control what I say in my space, which I do.

Curate your own online experiences. If you don't like seeing what I write, then add 'vaspider' to your "filtered content" list and don't bother me about it. Tumblr is a 17+ environment and I am not responsible for you seeing things you don't like. Adults having adult conversations do not need to be filtered for children. This is your notification.

I’ve been Out for over 30 years. I don't tolerate lectures from strangers, especially people half my age, about history I lived through.

I'm transmasc and if you believe transmisandry/transandrophobia aren't "real things," or that transmascs aren't "really oppressed," please just leave me alone. Oppression Olympics are bad, actually.

My immediate family consists of my partners, my adult daughter, and our dogs.

No one in my immediate family is cis or het. I have been called Spider for 20+ years, & now a lot of people call me Mama Spider. Mom is a role, it need not be gendered.

This is a lot shorter than it used to be. I don't really feel like posting paragraphs explaining stuff anymore.

My icon has lore, apparently.

I post all asks and anon is never turned on.