Idk a lot of the backlash to broadening who falls under what terms comes from the need to distinctly fall under the specific label you worked towards…but distance from adjacent labels only limits your allies and puts you in a rigid box you can’t come back out of either.
Saw a post by a trans woman horrified by the concept of having overlapping experience with femboys because “fuck you I am a woman.” You are. A woman with a lot of overlapping experience with a GNC man. You’re not a GNC man. He’s not a woman. And the gap between you two is not a chasm.
“How dare you say trans men are similar to butch lesbians. Trans men are men.” Yeah, men with similar experiences to butch lesbians. The butch lesbian isn’t a man. You aren’t a woman. And the gap between you is not a chasm.
This mindset doesn’t even account for GNC men who also ID as women, trans men who use the label of lesbian. Butch can be a label for a person of either AGAB.
Binary trans people wanna separate themselves from each other and from nonbinary people sooo bad. Now it makes eggs feel like the jump from GNC woman to man is an insurmountable journey. A femboy gets told he’s making a mockery of trans women’s experiences. A transmasc femboy is seen as just a faker. A butch trans lesbian is seen as a faker.
These labels are all just plots on the map, not one side or the other. You journey to the farthest edges and you find twinks and lesbians who look and act identical despite being supposed opposites. It’s all made up, we’re all queer.
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✍️ more fic writer asks!
reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!
the last sentence you wrote
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a WIP you’d like to finish someday
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Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.
He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.
Which is saying a lot.
Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.
Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.
The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.
Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding.
Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.
And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.
The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.
That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance.
He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time:
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice.
Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.
He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Saying what?”
“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out. It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.”
“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”
“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”
Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.
“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him.
No. “Kinda?”
Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…
Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.
He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.
“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”
Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.
“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”
Well shit.
Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”
“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.
But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.
“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”
Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again.
They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.
“Hey, Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”
Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.
“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”
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