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iamafanofcartoons · 2 years

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RWBY is a good show, and I’m tired of people pretending its not!

I’m sorry, I’m just so tired of all these random claims that RWBY is “boring anime cliche” or “racist white male writing”, So...let’s go over them in segments

Female characters:

Aren’t walking fanservice shots and aren’t sexualized

Aren’t degraded in their field (combat, tactics, dust usage, etc) to boost up male characters (cause seemingly female characters being too skilled at something is emasculating to incels)

When a woman says no to a man, the man takes no for an answer and doesn’t keep trying. (So dear Hbomberguy, stop claiming that Weiss x Jaune was ever a thing)

Women don’t require a man to “Defend their honor” (This is in response to the dude who harassed me in anonymous about V5 who was upset that Yang punched a creep)

Aren’t woobified or emotionally weakened, instead having reactions to things like normal human beings. (Sorry Shonen anime which loves to make women woobified or emotionally weakened vs men) Being capable of emotions but also doing things effectively.

Aren’t made into waifu for male characters. Nora is still a badass and even being allowed to explore who she is outside of Ren, which runs against the usual anime/manga bs. Weiss didn’t get with Jaune after finding out he helped w/ Neptune. Blake actually defended her boundaries when Sun crossed certain lines (even though they’re brotp not romantic, he’s a male character that could’ve been put as a pseudo-love interest). Yang is also shown to be more than just Blake’s GF as we see in Ruby Yang interactions, Yang vs Salem, Yang ageeing to talk with Robyn. They’re all their own characters not trying to be the perfect wife for a male character.

LGBT+ characters:

aren’t in a world of “everyone is gay or straight”, so for me at least coming across as more impactful

have Ilia (lesbian); Coco (lesbian); Terra (wlw) and Saphron (wlw) also married and w/ kid that aren’t treated different to any other couple; Scarlet (gay-male); Nolan (implied, I think its at this point and not confirmed, mlm); May (non-deadnamed, voiced by and helped crafted with the help of a trans VA, and not having her trans status be the central element of her character trans character); Blake (bi) and Yang (wlw) that are a main pair that are being allowed to build to a relationship at the same pacing as the hetero alt. pairing. BB being naturally built up and not rushed into a relationship, though still soft-canon locked in via Nora.

Are ALL ALIVE (funny how the straight white male characters get killed off?)

PoC characters:

Includes Marrow, Pietro, Joanna, Flynt, Yatsuhashi, Lie Ren, and Robyn as default heroes side

Includes Emerald having switched to the heroes side after having it foreshadowed in v3. Also possibly Elm and Harriet, depending on where they go in the future.

includes Sienna, who was admittedly actual wasted potential, being contrasted against Adam as the morally better version of violence in activism. A controlled violence actually giving a shit rights activist leader vs. a co-opting murderous abusive bloodthirsty psychopathic terrorist.

are easily the lesser in villain count vs. Caucasian villains.

So can the RWDE please stop trying to claim how RWBY isn’t better than anime/manga at least, but overall “isn’t progressive” in these areas.

Adam Taurus represents a very real element in real life regarding “Radical civil rights movements” ; extremism and co-opters; While the actual faunus rights aspect on its own is given a sympathetic light repeatedly. We also have Ilia Amitola, the female POC lesbian, get a redemption. While Adam Taurus, the cis white male edgelord? Is Evil and gets his death by double penetration at the hands of two lesbians. (Edit: yes, I know Blake is Bi, as is her VA. It was an expression explaining how cis white male “authority” individuals get emasculated)

The WF has a lot of references, not specifically the Black Panther one. Also the WF on its own is fine, its the version that gets corrupted by Adam’s psychotic co-opting terrorist ass that is the problem.

Reflective of reality where if any group for any cause crosses into violence that involves innocent bystanders; then they lose any credibility and are nothing more than terrorists. I don’t care what the cause is. Which is exactly what the WF under Adam presents; but is just 1 vein of it with Sienna’s vein existing, Ghira’s, and even Blake’s. Was it handled perfectly? No, you could have easily have shaved time from Adam to give to Sienna and had her live to continue. Personally I found Sienna to be the actual wasted potential, but EruptionFang naturally loves cis white male evil men as his favorite Meow Meows. Don’t even try to recommend a gay or bisexual dude to rwby critics, they’ll flip and call it pandering.

The MC’s aren’t remotely “paper thin”, nor secondaries. Heck the only ones that fit that bill are characters in the tertiary vein that are supposed to be that way. The “two traits” falls apart if one actually pays attention to the characters.

And most fixit fanfics not only sexualize the characters in a show with no fanservice...

Sadly they also overfocus on male characters and have their favorite male characters talk down the female main characters.

Robyn Hill represents the people standing up NOT against the military, but against fascism/totalitarianism. We see that for all the “good intentions” that Ironwood MAY have? It is always sabotaged by him. Ironwood backstabs Ozpin, brings an Army as a show of force, does multiple projects behind people’s backs, and yet displays more than few acts of hypocrisy. Volume 7 literally showed him acting as a dictator because he believed that only he knew the answer to everyone’s problems. Yet the consequences of HIS actions are what led to Atlas Downfall. Yang and Blake even tried to get Robyn to work with Ironwood and Robyn was literally willing to do so. Which of course pissed off Ironwood stans that anyone, especially a POC hero of the people, would stand against a Cis White Male Authority figure. The elections in V7 meant that anyone’s authority could be challenged by the people. Of COURSE Ironwood stans REFUSE to acknowledge the election part was good.

The attempt to balance idealism with realism is pretty interesting. What do you do against an enemy with an unlimited army, immortality, and agents who seek to turn everyone against each other? Do you submit to the “inevitable?” Or do you keep fighting to the end, instead prolonging the end?

You can think of this as having borrowed a theme or two from dark souls!

RWBY is at the very least leaps and bounds beyond most anime it's close in genre with. I remember seeing, partially in jest, the idea that RWBY has half the fanbase it does for being an action anime with a female case and no fanservice and I think it might almost literally be true.

It is depressingly hard to find a decent action show with a female cast that doesn't sexualize them in gross ways. Even shows I like on the whole end up doing that.

Of course, the points regarding love are helped by the fact that a good chunk of the female cast is front and center in the story. They’re largely in the driver seat and aren’t secondary to any male titular protagonist. Thus you don’t get cases where a girl on the main cast is there to be… the girl.

In any other story, Oscar and/or Jaune would be front and center. Heck, the three creators of RWBY are guys before their team grew so you’d think they’d “write what they know.” Yet they stick to their guns on having girls get shit done.

One Anime a person I know felt came close to this was, if you can believe it, Fairy Tail where Natsu might’ve been the prominent ass kicker but Erza is the one effectively leader the team, Wendy goes on an arc of learning to love herself and Lucy grows into the wizard that leads the charge against Acnologia.

Yet it sent mixed signals with how the girls (those of age) had designs that left little to the imagination. I can appreciate an artist honest in his horniness… but the Anime did something right when it came to Erza’s torture in Tartaros that helped sell the gravitas of the traumatic experience.

RWBY feels like the above but far more refined in execution. There’s a time and place for schlocky cheesecake but not when it clashes with the narrative and themes overall.

So tell me...without using Hbomberguys’ repeated false information about the “love triangle” or “self-insert” slander...how would YOU respectfully criticize RWBY? How would you claim to be “a critic” yet still encourage people to watch RWBY?

If you try to bring up Hbomb’s 2.5 hour hate video, then anyone who tries to claim that a video from 2 years ago no longer is relevant is just being hypocritical. (Looking at you, RWDE Apologist, you know who you are)

Oh, one more thing. RWBY seasons 1-3 were the weakest in terms of writing and animation. But even so, the fact of the matter is that anything that happened in those seasons are ignored by critics, theorists, and straight shippers.

Material Inspired from https://www.tumblr.com/crimsonxe/691425946111295488/since-i-ran-across-a-dumbass-earlier-that-tried-to

#rwby #ruby rose #yang xiao long #monty oum #rooster teeth #rwby is enjoyable #rwby is a good show #Blake Belladonna #weiss schnee #adam taurus #sienna khan #fairy tail #erza #erza scarlet #team rwby #Oscar Pine #james ironwood #ironwood

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ghxstmxchine · 3 months

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Hello- This is my first time requesting smt on Tumblr but your blog has caught my attention since you write trans content so well which is sadly rare :I Anyways could you write Miguel X ftm reader who is shy about wanting to Dom Miguel for the first time (sfw with or without nsfw is fine) Thank you in advance for the masterpiece you are going to cook up

ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: as a trans person, writing for other trans people is always something I'm happy to do! so glad you think I write it so well, always important to have good representation :)

☆ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ: NSFW // Miguel x ftm!reader // w.c: 1.1k // warnings: smut, dom!reader, blowjobs, dirty talk, penetration

You loved him. You loved him so much that you were scared to mess up, every action, every movement was calculated. It made for a strange relationship between the two of you, both so meticulous, tactful to your cores that made navigating your relationship feel like a game of chess.

That’s why you never brought it up to him in the bedroom. You didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare him off, nor face rejection and just how humiliating that can be. Miguel normally took the reins, it was expected when he was the one running most things. Pushing you down on the bed and crawling on top, his hands everywhere as he guides you towards pleasure that left your whole body tingling.

You loved it so damn much, he was good and took care of your every need. But you wanted something else, you’d been given a taste and were starved for more. You wanted a go at taking charge, but that required you being forward enough to ask.

“You want to what?” Miguel asks, asking more for clarification rather than completely missing what you said. You could tell from the way his face seemed slightly red, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“Nevermind,” you spit the words out fast, trying to take back what you had already said. Your cheeks darken with shame, a blush rising on your skin which betrays so easily your desperate attempt to play down what you had just said. God, you wanted to die on the spot. Not like he’d be nice enough to grant you mercy.

Miguel seemed equally conflicted, you couldn’t blame him as he seemed to switch between satisfied and unsure. Finally, he approaches you, large hands gently grasping your wrists so he could hold your hands. He smiles down at you, all too knowing. “No, say what you said.”

“I want…” You look everywhere but at him. You were making your message seem pretty weak. “I want to try being in charge… y’know next time. Next time we’re… in bed together..”

He snorts but it’s not condescending, much more entertained. Miguel leans in to kiss you, nipping gently at your bottom teeth with those pearly fangs of his. “Really? You think you can?”

“Y-yeah..”

“You’re not acting like you can.” Miguel replies cooly and you shift in your spot, finally looking him in the eye. Satisfaction sprawls across his face as he kisses you again, whispering softly between each peck. “So show me, gonna put me in my place or not?”

You didn’t expect it to begin so quickly, a messy makeout between the two of you following the conversation. One second the tension in the air is thick then it’s snapping, hands tangled in hair and lips smashed together. Your hands cup his jaw, pulling him down to meet you, forcing him onto your level.

Soon enough he’s sinking to his knees, mouth wet with saliva that stains your thighs as he kisses every inch of exposed skin. Miguel’s pupils are blown wide, reflecting your own flustered face in the glossiness of them. Your fingers curl in his hair, pushing his head back so he’s looking up at you, the soft gasp leaving his mouth is praise to your actions, satisfaction that you’re showing him what you can do.

Slowly, your other hand that has been cupping his jaw climbs up the side of his face, touching the soft flesh of his lips. You ghost your fingers over them, pressing against the seam of glossy lips that part so obediently. Warm surrounds your fingers, spit coating the pad of each digit as you ease his mouth open, his tongue lolling out without you even having to ask.

You press your fingers against the fangs, feeling their sharpness and how they dig into your fingertips, anymore pressure and they’d slash right though with ease. He shivers, a single movement away from the taste of your sweet blood on his tongue. He wanted it so fucking bad but you tug at his hair, the pressure on his scalp reminding him of where he is as he lets you touch his fangs. “S’pretty…”

Pushing down your pants and boxers, the cold air on your crotch and the slick staining your thighs makes you shiver. Miguel immediately melts at the sight, nearly drooling but he doesn’t move, waiting for you to do something.

“¿Vas a hacer algún movimiento o simplemente voy a mirar?”

You take in a deep breath to steady yourself, searching for what to say. Tightening the fist in his hair you pull him closer, his cheek resting against your thigh. “You can start by sucking me off.”

You don’t need to say anything else, those soft lips kissing up your thighs before he’s at your core, tongue curling as it slides through your fold. You shudder, knees shaking as he dives in to feast on you, wrapping his lips around your t-dick and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on it. Big, rough hands grasp at your thighs, encapsulating them with ease as he tilts his head for better access, suckling at your t-dick and folds coated with sweet slick.

Every breath leaving your mouth is shuddery, you’d screw your eyes closed if it wasn’t for how gorgeous he looked on his knees, lapping so desperately at your core, praying you’d open your legs just a little more so he could slide his hot tongue into your cunt. He buries his face against the warmth between your legs, nearly trying to pull you down on his mouth as he sucks you off, eating you out like a man starved.

The hand that was once weakly grasping at his hair, simply looking for something to keep you steady tightens, no longer holding on but guiding him. There was some sort of confidence that came with guiding him, tugging his hair as you guide his mouth along your t-dick, slurping messily at the engorged clit as he laves his tongue over it. He was so messy, slick smeared on his chin and all around his mouth as you pushed his head closer, forcing him to suckle sweetly at your t-dick.

“Jus’ like that, keep suckin’ my dick, baby. You’re so messy…” You moan, pleasure boiling over as you feel your thighs tremble, cumming all over his face in a sticky mess. You pull his away, Miguel more than happy to keep lapping at your juices dripping down your thighs. “So messy, letting me cum all over your face.”

You’re pushing him against the bed soon enough, crawling on top and sliding his thick length inside you, aided by your own slick and then amount he drooled all over you. Emboldened by just how good he looked when he was on his knees, you slide your hands up his broad chest and lean in close, lips ghosting against his ear. You prop your hips up, the head of his cock the only thing left inside you.

“C’mon, start fucking me baby. Make me feel good.”

#atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #male reader #trans reader #miguel o'hara x trans!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #smut

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xhmeusworld · 4 months

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one hit (to the body) | vernon chwe

genre: non idol! vernon, angst, fluff, transgender reader (ftm)

pairings: vernon chwe x transgender reader (ftm)

warnings: injury

word count: 1k

note: okay, i started writing with the intent to always write gender neutral imagines; however, i believe representation is critical. as a trans person myself, more works surrounding trans people was always something i was looking for and hopefully by posting this, i’m helping someone get comfort from the fact that they are not alone and that they are being seen within this world. they are not being erased or overlooked. they are real and deserve a better world. that being said, my messages are always open

everything was spinning as you lowered yourself down on the bench. your legs felt like jelly and your ribs burnt like fire. your face was coated with a fine layer of sweat and you had to resist the urge to rest your cheek against the cold metal bench. the nausea in your stomach made it hard to focus. you didn’t even notice that someone had yanked your baseball helmet off until a stream of cold water met your head, drenching your unruly hair and running under the collar of your black and red jersey.

“are you sure you’re okay, y/n?” your teammate, vernon, asked, raking his hand through the young boy’s wet hair in an attempt to get it out of his face. “you look like you’re overheating.”

if it was a normal day, you would be mentally freaking out over the fact that the boy who you had a crush on since seventh grade year was running his hands through your hair, but your brain felt too much like mush in your head.

your eyes squinted up at vernon and breathing through the pain your ribs, you spoke. “i’m fine.”

“you don’t look fine to me, y/n,” coach countered, jogging up to you. “you’ve been off since warm-ups and i can tell your brain isn’t in the game today. that’s the reason why i called a timeout. i think you should stay on the bench for the reminder of the time.”

you shook your head, water droplets still falling from your hair. “no, i can play. i’m okay. it’s just hot out today. the water vernon poured on my head helped.”

you hoped that your voice sounded convincing. coach mulled over your words for a few seconds before releasing a sigh. “fine, but if i think for a moment that you’re unfit to play, i’m pulling you out whether you like it or not. now, let’s get back in the game. it’s your turn to pitch.”

you nodded as vernon grabbed onto your hands, pulling you to your feet. you held back a cry of pain as your ribs were set ablaze once again.

vernon gave you a look of concern before running out toward the outfield. you slipped on your mitt, running toward the pitcher’s mound. you could hardly breathe as you attempted to zero in on the area you were supposed to aim for. your limbs felt heavy as you lifted your left leg, letting the ball fly.

you honestly weren’t even sure how you were still standing. the black stars exploding in your line of vision made you feel disoriented and it felt like there was weight on your chest. you were so focused on not passing out that you didn’t even notice the batter make contact with the ball, sending it flying in your direction.

“y/n!” vernon called out while the rest of the team called, “look out!”

vernon rushed toward you, but he wasn’t quick enough. the ball made a sickening crack as hit the side of your head, knocking you to the ground. you weren’t even awake when you hit the dirt mound below.

however, the moment you woke up, it felt like someone had took a sledgehammer to your skull. your hand moved up to touch your temple, but instead it came in contact with soft material, which could only be gauze. you let out a groan as you attempted to open your eyes only to be greeted by harsh light. you were in the nurse’s office.

“what happened?” you asked as you felt movement to your left. you turned your head, causing another burst of black to enter your vision, to see seungkwan positioned next to your bed.

“a baseball hit you in the head,” your best friend and fellow teammate explained, grabbing a hold of your hand in preparation to pull you off of your back. “how do you feel? are you dizzy? is the pain bad?”

“on a scale of one to ten, i would say-” you let out a yelp as seungkwan pulled you up into a sitting position. your hand instinctively moved to your rib cage. you expected your fingers to come in contact with the fabric of your baseball uniform, but instead, you touched bare skin.

“why is my jersey unbuttoned?” you asked, your breath coming out heavy.

seungkwan sighed. “when vernon carried you in, you weren’t breathing right. the nurse had to check your heart and-”

your eyes widened as you searched the blonde’s face. “does he know?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

seungkwan gave you a sad look. “i tried to get him to leave before the nurse did anything, but he was worried about you. he wanted to stay.”

an involuntary sound left your lungs as you realized the power that your best friend’s words held. the secret you had been hiding your entire middle and high school career was out and it wasn’t even your decision. a sob escaped your lungs, intensifying the pain in your ribs and chest.

“hey, hey,” seungkwan whispered, cupping your face. “breathe, okay? crying is only going to make your ribs hurt worse. the nurse wanted to take it off of you, but your dad told her to wait until he got here.” he gently pulled the smaller boy against his body, being careful to not squeeze you too hard. “you shouldn’t have slept in it last night. my family wouldn’t have noticed anything. i should have made you take it off.”

you pulled back from seungkwan, your eyes filled with tears. “he’s going to tell everyone. the whole school is going to know. I’ll get kicked off the team.”

your words caught in your throat as the nurse’s office door opened and the last person you wanted to see stepped in. you wanted to scream as the vernon’s eyes darted down to the binder constricting your chest. “i’m not going to tell anyone, y/n.”

“why? because you don’t want to expose the transgender kid?” you spat out.

vernon gave you a small smile. “no, because i care about the boy in front of me.”

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pineapplerightsideupcake · 5 months

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how do you as a bisexual come to terms with the fact that the trans community has literally made homophobia much worse. ppl are proudly being openly homophobic and when you dig deeper it’s actually the “queers” and transgenders who think kids can transition who they have a problem with (not all of course but a good chunk) I believe ppl who wouldn’t otherwise be homophobic are being homophobic bc of the trans community. I use to really struggle w internalized homophobia, and still do, it was only this past year where I came to terms w it and told my sister/close friends. I wish it could be just a normal thing to be gay and you’d be left alone, I believe we were on a trajectory for that. But now things have gotten worse, and thanks to the gender nonsense, openly bigoted ppl (especially religious) are being praised and promoted. All this bc of trans activism. I don’t even care anymore about what they do to themselves, but the damage they’ve done to actual gay ppl is insane and we’re already facing the backlash. I’m not sure if we’ll ever live in a world where being lgb isn’t a big deal.

Honestly? I think the benefit of pushing 40 is that I have a wider lens through which to view activism. And I feel the same way about LGB rights as I do about women’s rights.

Which is to say, every time a big gain is won, there is backlash. There are parts of society that get worse as the culture tries desperately to adjust around the new changes.

Men today are more porn sick and sexually aggressive than 20 years ago. In some ways. People are polling less positively about the LGTBQI+ but how much of that backlash is really directed at the LGB? Are polling groups even bothering to distinguish between LGB and “queer” people?

Let me tell you what life was like as a bisexual teen in 2003. Let’s go back 20 years and I can tell you the world has changed so much for the better. 20 years ago gay rights activists started really making headway towards civil rights guarantees. Suddenly middle Americans had to confront that gay people were among them and not just haunting bars and bathhouses. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such rigid gender norm adherence as I did back then. Men couldn’t wear pastels or purple or pink. Guys got called gay for having a messenger bag. There is an entire episode of “Friends” about it. Sussing out the Gays Among Us became obsessive. Emo culture was a direct response to how frantic straight people were to appear duly heterosexual. TV shows still depicted us as degenerate freaks if they depicted us at all. A few HBO shows that were soft core porn more than anything and Will and Grace was all anybody had. Shows like Xena and Buffy got away with lesbians because men said out loud that hot women kissing was fine. These were the early days of straight men having open lesbian fetishizes. We couldn’t get married. We could get fired for being gay.

For women there was no movement to normalize our natural bodies. I’d spend hours shaving myself smooth. Not wearing makeup was unheard of. Cellulite wasn’t even a word I knew let alone knew was normal. There weren’t a million online resources teaching women that vaginal discharge is normal and I grew up thinking (as did many others) that it was a private shame.

And as far as MeToo stuff? It’s easy to feel defeated in the moment but nobody was using the word ‘consent’ in my day. Men getting women drunk was a joke. Men pushing for sex was a joke. Men calling a woman that had one too many dates or boyfriends a slut was normal. Three of my male friends pinned me down on several occasions and took turns rubbing their dicks on me to completion.

The therapist I told said I “needed to work on my boundaries”. The word rape never even entered my mind. Rape was something a stranger with a knife did. It wasn’t something your best friends did to you and then laughed about. It isn’t something you submitted to because fawn and freeze are real fear responses. No one told me my friend forcing my hand down his pants was abuse because I continued to go over his house, didn’t I? No one told me about red flags or cycles of abuse.

And the older women you told rolled their eyes. What I endured was so mild compared to many other women. Men forcing themselves onto women was just normal.

I can’t tell you what it means to me to see so many young women calling it out. Refusing to stay in a bad situation. Refusing to date entirely sometimes. Women sharing red flags and advice to stay not just safe but thriving.

Don’t get me wrong- the current gender movement is regressive and dangerous. I’m not saying it’ll all work itself out. Activism is constant work but things ARE getting better. They really are, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. 💜

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist community #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #radical feminists please interact #radical feminists please touch

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beanghostprincess · 14 days

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Hey sweetie!! I realized I have been absent from your inbox for quite some time and that simply will not do, I am legally required to annoy people I like, it's the Law.

Therefore, I thus drop even MORE transfem Buggy ideas, silliest, and snippets in the hopes of making you smile and/or laugh bc you deserve nice things I wanna throw them at you ♡♡♡♡♡

• Buggy coming out as trans over the course of a loooooong time, where she had Inklings of it young (Buggy+Toki bonding my beloved), and for a while just went "it is what it is, it's my nose that makes me hate mirrors so much-" and thus reclaiming the nose with the clown aesthetic and commitment to the circus bit. And it's enjoyable, really, the colors and patterns are So Good, and the makeup feels WONDERFUL, and all dolled up, Buggy doesn't want to punch the mirror quite so much.

It's only with Alvida and their Mean Girls Gossip Club being founded that there are some late night, semi-drunk conversations and Buggy says something like "everything sucks but I think things would be better if I were born a girl, ya know-?"

Cue Alvida taking that as a "women have it easy" type of thing (it's not), and so she and Buggy make a bet - dress as a girl, go out for a night, and play the part. They pick a small, no name island, pick an equally small, no name town, and hit the bars there. And Buggy is.... thriving.

It's not all sunshine and daisies, and Buggy sees first hand what women experience, but there's a shift in the movements, in Her Chest, and suddenly things are clicking, she's stepping aside, she's off to the restroom, and she is staring into the mirror there, blue eyes wide and hair loose around her shoulders and she really Looks. Fingertips brush the cool, smooth surface before her, trembling with fear, with anticipation, with joy and grief and anger and love. She barely notices when Al comes up to her side, when a pale hand brushes her shoulder. It's the question which throws her.

"What are you thinking?"

And in the tiny little bar bathroom at Seas-knows-what-time, Buggy has a sudden accidental baptism, and Alvida takes her hands through it all.

Buggy comes home to her ship, her crew, with knowledge, with a new awareness, a new fear, a new joy.

Her crew are nothing if not welcoming, and when she tells them, faux-casual and already edging into defensive aggression, they are simply delighted. They are ecstatic. They don't even question it, just beam and offer hugs and ask if they should still call her Buggy and Captain and Ringmaster, because she is theirs and they are hers they will be as good for her as she is for them, by the Seas as their witness.

And Buggy is happy, is safe, is emotional, is loved.

• coming out publicly is an ordeal, especially with the media storm already occurring elsewhere. She doesn't even think to do it. It's her crew that bristle when someone misunderstood her, the first two times a passable correction, then a point of disrespect. People do not disrespect their captain lightly.

• An article is written about her, and the contents are.... unkind at best. Interestingly enough, another article is never published by that journalist, and there is now no trace of their existence beyond that point. It was not Buggy and her gang who did it, though.

• Crocodile and Mihawk are both bisexual, and they do not initially know of Buggy's gender identity until well into the Guild's existence, after that article full of heresay and guessing. Not many want to correct such powerful men, after all.

When it DOES come out, they don't even really treat Buggy any differently. Just nod, verify name, ask for pronouns, and it's back to business. It's refreshingly normal and bittersweet.

• when they eventually being courting Buggy asks if her gender is.... going to be a problem. Crocodile just sneers. "It'd be hypocritical of me to not date someone transgender. I may pass as cis, but I made myself into the man I am today. Who cares?"

Mihawk just kind of laces his fingers with hers and states that "your body is but a vessel, and I care only for the wielder. The forms of your body matter not to me beyond your own joys in it."

• they also go on to be rather protective of their girlfriend. Business transactions have, and will, be dropped if a group is not respectful of her or has a history of it. Money is money, certainly, but business is a gamble and the deck is stacked against them with such animosity. After all, would you trust someone visibly aggressive with you over an ambivalent stranger when both hold a gun?

• just for shits and giggles, open relationships, and Shanks being fucking FERAL for Buggy and it's an absolute hot mess because he loves his clown wife so much-

• extra funnies, many others ALSO love his clown wife. Including, to his dramatic betrayal and theatric tears, many in his own crew.

• Rayleigh shows up at Karai Bari without warning to give Buggy a piece of his mind - not about her being a woman, no, that's fine, he loves her regardless, but about how she hasn't called him even ONCE just to give him the news that he has a DAUGHTER, she KNOWS he wanted a little girl, Buglet, why have you hurt him so-?

"You never gave me your number???"

"I didn't??"

"NO?????"

"Oh."

"Yeah, OH, you senile old fart!!!"

"Hey, missy, no need for that kind of disrespect-"

• Luffy, Zoro, and Ussop bond over "my dad/dad-figure has done it with the clown lady" and Sanji is just laughing at their misery while Jimbei is trying so hard not to make eye contact lest they see his own clown fucking history ((it was one time but he wouldn't be against a repeat-))

I'm eepy so that's all I have now but ily nini ♡♡♡♡

HELLO SWEETIE HOW I'VE MISSED YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I am so glad you're back for more ideas and headcanons of our wonderful Buggy 💖💖

Toki and Buggy bonding my beloved but I absolutely adore what you said about Buggy blaming her nose at first instead of like, actually thinking why her image bothers her so much,,, She doesn't want to think further about it so she just guesses it had to be the nose because it's the one thing that's wrong with her,, But then she has the whole "I wish I were a girl because it would be easier" mindset still after claiming the clown aesthetic,,, My girl,,,

And the way she finds out I am,,, Gonna cry,,, The way it starts as a bet and Alvida is genuinely mad at her at first for her commentary about women but then she sees Buggy visibly upset because she's having the realization™ in the middle of a crowd. And I can't stop thinking about how it'd be sweet and comforting and,, You know. It'd feel like a family, something they don't really seem a lot of times because of their catastrophic dynamic. But Buggy would feel seen and loved and she knows Alvida will be there for her through it all no matter what. It's kind of weird to be comforted by a younger woman and I think Buggy would feel a bit ashamed for that?? But Al would tell her that there is no age to support each other, especially in womanhood.

I love how protective her crew is but mostly how little Crocodile and Mihawk care about this 😭 They really said "well if this doesn't affect us I don't care what you are but at least we are going to refer to you properly because we are not monsters, thank you". And also Crocodile is trans so it just makes sense. And what the hell with Mihawk's words??? This man is so romantic when he wants to--

My favorite thing about this is everybody being extremely protective of Buggy. She deserves it. She's a queen. An icon. And everybody is in love with her. And Rayleigh is soooo father and I adore him,, He'd go there solely to see his girl.

And never forget Zoro and Luffy bonding over this, but the funniest part of all is how I am 100% sure that after transitioning Buggy is wayyy hotter and way more confident and Sanji would be head over heels for her like everybody else. So yeah, he laughs all he wants but he wishes he could pull Buggy like that-

And I hope you slept well!!! Mwah mwah mwah!!! Loved to see you here again sweetie 💖💖💖💖💖

#the return of the king or queen or sovereign idk who you are anon but i love you #this was soooo nice i love everything about this #one piece #buggy the clown #transfem buggy #ask-bean!

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annabelle--cane · 1 year

Text

on the one hand, it sort of makes sense why "would you date/sleep with a [x]" is a common topic in discussions of bigotry, it's a question that can reveal deep-seated subconscious bias in a way that "are you chill with [x] people existing" doesn't, and dating outside of one's marginalized group can often be a significantly dangerous thing. like, sure, you can be casual friends with a bi woman, but deep down do you still think we're icky and duplicitous? will you be normal if you find out a girl you're interested in is bi? is there a trait you find unattractive that you think all bi people / ace people / trans people / sex workers / fat people / etc possess?

but on the other hand, it far too easily hits the ball into bigots' court for them to reduce all discussions of liberation into "wrow, this whole movement is about trying to destroy boundaries and force yourselves on us, isn't it?" which then moves the conversation to marginalized people endlessly having to reassure the world at large that "it's okay if you don't want to date me because you think I'm inherently promiscuous, frigid, ugly, aggressive, selfish, or otherwise gross, I swear that's 100% fine, but please just treat me like a person despite how gross you find me." again, I see where this line of thinking comes from, but all too often it feels like it reduces discussions of oppression to whether the oppressed have enough sex appeal to be considered valuable.

#marina marvels at life

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harrypotterfuryroad · 30 days

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yeah you know what, let's take the toddler-tracing furry who makes up women (usually girls) of color to use as his mouthpiece at face value for a sec

and ok, let's give him credit this time for not making up a woman of color to use as his mouthpiece! instead he creates an unflattering depiction of his opponent to misrepresent while portraying himself as (again) a young girl

first, the cass report never was about "banning all treatments" but assessing the evidence we have about the treatments being used, so we're off to a bad start

then we get to the "10 out of 3499" figure, which is pretty dishonest framing of the report. the 3499 population is from the 2023 audit of GIDS

and the only thing close to a mention of 10 patients stopping "transition-related treatments" is this

loss to followup is a really normal part of these kinds of studies, so i don't get what we're supposed to find alarming about this - especially if we're supposed to be buying that puberty blockers aren't handed out to anyone who wants them. what we should be worried about is the apparent lack of record keeping within the clinic (which - shocker - is why this report was commissioned in the first place)

"recommends clinics to better serve trans populations" yes this is a reasonable recommendation when your investigation finds that the evidence supporting the field is of really poor quality and therefore not actually helping the population they're trying to serve, again not clear what the issue is here

desantis - not mentioned in the report, and also i don't understand why "this person says she doesn't know a guy, but someone she knows does know a guy who knows the guy" is supposed to be some sort of damning evidence. if we had evidence that this was influencing the report then maybe, but we don't have anything to go off of here (or in erin reed's twitter spittle flinging) other than a namedrop

"cass contradicts herself by saying hrt should be available on individual needs" is also flagrant misrepresentation, in addition to being pretty emblematic of the way the trans movement tends to take everything personally instead of looking at class-based trends. the overarching theme of the report is that the studies supporting these treatments are really inconsistent and were poorly conducted for the most part, not that nobody was helped by these treatments. poor quality of evidence isn't evidence of poor quality, and again i'm left confused as to why trans people seemingly want their movement to be built on a foundation of weak evidence

#and he can put quotation marks around things to make them seem legit #but without linking an actual source it doesn't mean anything #also can we appreciate the hilarity of the evil terf telling someone to not read something

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wormonastringtheory · 1 year

Text

if you wanna show me a post please tag #wormielook!

welcome everyone new

important note: i am deeply dedicated to liberatory and decolonial movements and as such i post about mutual aid, protests, etc quite a bit. it's okay not to understand everything, if you have questions message and I'll forward you resources written by respective communities and to organizers/writers who discuss their liberation/literature

i am way too obsessed with MCR. I'm also an archivist for multiple interests. I'm way too interested in ultramarathon running (even though I cannot participate), tornadoes, robotics, and fall out boy. ok a bit more about me

basics:

-23 y/o

-disabled both physically and mentally (HSD, likely autism, severe brain fog, long haul COVID symptoms, a mast cell disorder, tourettes, Metatarsalgia, ADHD, IBS, POTS, OCD, GAD and Depression, PTSD, and a suspected brain injury, amongst other things)

-artist! i do digital art, textile work (making patches and v basic hand sewing), traditional drawing and painting (usually acrylic on canvas), crocheting, and collage

-loosely bigender. my gender is fluid and expansive to some extent so labelling is complicated. Kinda a butch, kinda a trans man.

-he/they/xe/vamp pronouns

-sapphic as fuck and that's important to my identity, lesbian I think. again beyond that not into firm labels. mostly t4t or queer4queer, and ace/aro spectrum

-polyamorous

-one of the biggest joys of people in my life (and my trusted sources for media reccommendations) is @milfsrights

-my best friend, platonic soulmate and other half is @frilly09

-irl bestieeee and loml is @anour22 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

interests:

-tornadoes. literally anything about them, and most natural disasters tbh

-harm reduction and street outreach, mutual aid organizing

-theology

-history (especially queer history, revolutionary actions and protest movements)

-zines (IM NOT NORMAL ABOUT ZINES)

-minatures

-seals

-antarctica

-library sciences

-music!! fall out boy, mcr, mitski, lianne la havas, willow, frank tichelli, nina simone, the staples singers, stevie wonder, against me!, pure hell, the muslims, the mountain goats, elton john, paramore, yana perrault, anju, the jerry cans, tessa violet, ruby waters, status non-status, r & b, punk, and soul

-tv/movies: repo! the genetic opera, goldfinch, best in miniature

-plays/broadway: wicked, hadestown, waitress, had a major deh phase too

-robotics! i am a mentor of a team and volunteer at competitions

-rare disorders, diseases, and conditions

-plushies! i am a collector, i have 109, most of them were gifts from friends and family or from my childhood

-disability justice

-biology, especially reptiles, foxes, spiders and amphibians

-linguistics! currently learning hebrew

-running and athletics

-gentle parenting and montessori (i am not a parent)

-crochet and fibre arts

-anarchism

-transit

-mountaineering disasters

-orphan sources/radiological incidents

-songwriting

-house shows/diy culture

-tattoos

-dan and phil

-safiya nygaard

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himbos-hotline · 7 months

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"This is a bit weird, isn't it? Sharing a bed with a friend enemy."

OrangeKip ? Or even like, Adam²? (or ur choice!l)

I could be a better [boy]friend than him

2.6k words || Adam squared || Trans femme Adam Cole || Read on ao3

Ink stains Adams right hand like blood drying under his nails. He traces the outline of the bar stamp with his eyes, watching how it shifts when he grabs at the half-empty glass of whiskey, veins bubbling just under his skin as he swallows the rest of the glass down and listens to just how quiet the scraping is when he settles the glass back onto the bar. It's sticky under his arms and Adam presses his lips together to repress a sigh, unrolling his sleeves over his hands. The music is loud enough that it's starting to make a headache grow at his temples, spreading slowly over the front of his head.

It's not his first time in a gay bar; he's been in them with Kenny a few times, always watching as Kenny wanders off into the crowd, giggling soundlessly when he spots Adam sighing at him from over the crowd of people. Adam normally ends up going home alone, a few dollars lighter and a lot tipsier, not that he minds that. He can always get more money and sleep away the hangover in his hotel room. Under his feet, the floor shakes and Adam stares down at his shoes, watching the heels knock against the metal of the bar chair. He's tried his best to be social, squirmed his way through the dancefloor, arms wrapped around himself to stop himself from accidentally knocking into anyone but, like every bar he's ever visited; Adam spends his time at the bar, making small talk with the bartender as he pours him yet another whiskey sour.

He tilts his head thankfully at the bartender, watching her polish a glass before someone nudges him uncomfortably in the ribs. "Hey!" The voice is loud, bordering on annoyed and it hits Adam's ear painfully. He tilts his head towards the man; follows the fade of short black hair and frowns when he raises his arm, clicking his fingers over at the bartender. "Yknow she'll get to you eventually right?" Adam mumbles, a little too loud over the drone out of music. The guy looks at him, eyes narrowed and Adam sees his pupils floating in beer-drunk eyes, he follows them for a few moments, watching the guy drop his arms to turn to him, his movements making Adam rise from the barstool, the click of his boots knock against the sticky laminate floor and the guy looks up at him, unsteady on his feet. "Ya should treat people with a lil more respect." Adam keeps his voice flat, arms folded over his chest.

"Roddy, c'mon." Adam barely hears the voice behind them both. By the time he notices the woman nudging her way onto the barstool opposite him, there's concern biting at the bottom of his stomach. "You remember what I wanna drink right?" She asks, pressing her hand against Roddy's upper arm, squeezing a little when Roddy glares back at Adam, squinting at him through thin eyelashes. "Why don't you go outside?..Find Matt? Get some air." Her voice is floating a little now, words slurring at the corners when she speaks; eyebrows raised as wide pupils dance against the backdrop of bright blue eyes. She sneaks a glance at Adam before looking back up at what he can assume is her boyfriend.

Roddy leaves in a huff, shoving the woman's hand off his arm and Adam pushes himself back into his barstool, hooking the heels of his boots over the footstool. He watches the woman from the corner of his eyes; pretends not to notice the way she wobbles in the chair; her high heels knocking against the metal or the way that a bruise sneaks out from under the hem of her thigh highs. He frowns a little into his drink, rubs his free hand down the front of his jeans and startles a little when the woman reaches a hand out slowly, fingers painted and delicate as she calls over the bartender.

Adam doesn't listen to the conversation the two of them have but does notice the way that the woman's lips turn downwards and the corner of her eyes crease a little, she pales under his eyes when she realizes that Adam is staring. "Do you know where the bathroom is?" She asks, breathing a little heavier than before. "Yeah they're uh.." Adam casts another glance across her smaller frame and smiles, softer than before when she smiles back. "I can walk you there, help ya through the crowd a lil?" He nods over his shoulder, wincing at the amount of people cramming the dance floor. He hunts for Roddy in the crowd for a few seconds, finds nothing more than a few nameless faces looking back at him from under the bright flashing lights before he feels the woman's hand creeping around his bicep. He jumps a little, smiling as he pays for his drink, tucking the dollar bills securely under the glass.

The two of them make small talk as they walk, bodies pressed together. Her body sways into Adam's a few times and he laughs when she steps on his feet. "Ya had a lil too much?" He asks, voice already flooding with lightheartedness when the woman nods; having to lean against the wall when her legs wobble from under her. The toilets loom and Adam's slow to let go of her, slowly prying her fingernails off from around his arm. "I…"

"Will you wait for me? Keep watch?" She asks him, fluttering her eyelashes. Adam can't help but nod. "I'm Adam by the way..Most people call me Cole." Cole waves when she steps away from Adam, giggling when she bumps into the tiled wall of the women's bathroom, her hips sway and Adam watches the way her skirt twirls around her thighs, chuckling a little.

"Well, I'll be damned." He whispers to himself, rubbing the warmth of his cheeks. He isn't sure how much time passes, or how long he spends with Cole sitting talking at the bar. He doesn't see Roddy until they're all outside the bar. Adam's leaning against the wall, listening to Cole slur away with a conversation that's mostly spoken around the end of a cigarette. He follows the way her lips move and the way her lipstick smudges down the curve of her chin, staining her stubble a soft pink. Adam cracks a joke and blushes when Cole laughs. He opens his mouth again.

"Adam!" They both look up and follow Roddy's heavy steps. "What are you doing talking to some creep at the bar? This is why ya keep getting hurt!" Adam glances down at Cole, watches the way her eyes screw up and something in the back of his brain, fizzing with a mix of protectiveness and alcohol makes him move forward. Tucking Cole behind his back as Roddy reaches out to grab her. "What the fuck are ya doing?!" Roddy snaps, hands balling at his sides. "I need to get to my friend! I need to take him home."

Adam feels Cole press a hand against his side and he turns his attention back to Roddy, lips pressing into a thin line of anger. "She doesn't wanna see ya." Adam isn't sure why his brain tells him to be protective but he hears the sound that slips past Cole's lips and slightly lovedrunk, he guards her; watches as Roddy tries to duck around his side. Cole yelps and something flashes against the back of Adam's eyes. He listens to the sound of skin against skin, the feeling of the scuffed knuckles of his fist fit snugly in the curve of Roddy's jaw, feels the warm wetness of blood trickling slowly down his nose and Adam stumbles a little; green eyes rough and focused as Roddy stands up rubbing at his jaw, smearing blood across the side of his mouth.

"What the fuck was that for?" Roddy snaps, spitting against the concrete and Adam feels his fingers flex, cracking a little under the weight. Fighting someone on the street is different from wrestling; it's rougher, harder but Adam stands over Roddy, looking down at him through messy blond curls. "He's my friend"

Cole is still pressed against the wall; blue eyes wider than the sea as she stares, breathing heavy. There's a bruise forming against her wrist and she rubs at it softly, pressing down as the colors bloom under the ink of her tattoo. "She. I'm a she Roddy.We've had this conversation." Her voice trembles when she speaks, following the shaking of her hands as she takes a few unsteady steps, kneeling in front of Roddy. "I don't…" She swallows, looks over her shoulder at Adam before she just stands. "I just want to go home."

"I'll call ya a taxi yeah?" Adam whispers, helping Cole stand when she nods. She keeps her back to Roddy, keeps her shoulders straight and her eyes closed when he yells after her. "Does he know where you live?" Adam asks, voice low against the early morning traffic and muffled by the swipe of Cole's hand across his jaw. Her fingertips come back stained red and Adam thinks of roses growing in his mothers garden all the way back in Virgina or the redness of the blush that he feels painting his cheeks.

"I moved a little while ago..he doesn't know where to." Cole whispers, shivering under the early morning sun. It's turned cold outside the club and despite the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Adam feels it too. He lets Cole grab onto his shoulders when she slides her heels off and he slides his jacket off to lay it around her shoulders. Cole takes Adam's phone out of his pocket and holds it up to him.

There's the click of the face ID and Adam raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What are ya doing?"

"Giving you my number, silly." Cole hums, chewing on the corner of her lip as she types. She turns Adam's phone around and grins. "It's not fake, don't worry." Adam just nods. A little surprised by her brashness but he puts it down to the alcohol that's still skating through her system. He chuckles, shaking his head at the way her eyes shimmer under the simming street lamps. The taxi comes quicker than what Adam had hoped and he watched it pull up onto the curb. He holds Cole's hand for a few seconds, watches as she opens the door.

"I…" Adam starts, wondering why he's a little heartbroken at the idea of going their own separate ways. She's just some girl from a club that Adam may never frequent again. So why, when Cole looks over her shoulder does he swear that there's a silent call of lingering. "I guess I should take my jacket back?" Adam whispers, gripping the car door tight enough in his hand that he feels the metal warming under his touch.

Cole stares at him. And then she cries. Large round tears slip out her eyes, trailing quickly down her cheeks and Adam feels his eyes widen, lips twisting a little. "What's wrong?" He asks, watching how her mascara mixes with her tears. "Please don't cry." He glances down the street, at the taxi driver who stares back at him through the rear view mirror before staring back down at Cole. Watching her chest heave under her shirt.

"Please don't leave me." She whispers, voice shaking with tears.

"I won't" Adam says, voice shaking with truth.

He slides into the back seat next to her, glancing over his shoulder as the car door locks. Cole slides up next to him, sniffling into his ear as she clings to him. Adam's never been held the way that Cole is clinging onto him right now; like he's a shiny new toy or some precious stone that she wants to keep close, nestled against her so every time her heart beats Adam can hear it. It all makes him feel a little dizzy.

He walks Cole up to her apartment, holds onto her bag while she fishes around for her keys and slides his boots off at the door, watching how she slumps onto the couch. He rubs her aching feet while they watch TV; her legs draped over his like she was made to fit there, they talk and laugh their way through a comedy show before tiredness slowly starts to win out, Adam watches how Cole's eyes lid and he taps her shoulder gently. "We should get you into bed." He whispers, shaking his head fondly when she tiredly raises her arms to snake them around his neck. Adam carries her because he doesn't know what else to do; she's light in his arms and he watches how her legs swing. "I can sleep on the couch if ya want me too." "No!" Cole whines, dropping her head back so fast that her hair tumbles from his loose bun. "Sleep with me!"

"Is it a lil weird? Sharing a bed with a total stranger. Y'know, I could be like a murderer." Adam says, watching how Cole points over at the door furthest away from them. Cole raises her head, stares at Adam for a few seconds incredulity before shaking her head, resting it against his shoulder. "What?" He laughs. "You're too nice to be a murderer."

Cole is the first one awake in the morning, staring at Adam as he sleeps at her side. She shifts slowly, furrowing her eyebrows when there's no familiar ache in her hips. Her fingers brush against the bruise that's slowly starting to grow on the curve of his jaw and slowly, through the ache of a hangover, Cole starts to remember, releasing a groan as she tugs the pillow over her stained face. She's barely aware of the movement beside her until the mattress dips and the movement makes her stomach twist. "Stop doing that." She complains, face still covered.

"Sorry Cole." Adam's voice is thick with sleep and confusion before Cole feels his eyes settle on her. She pushes down the pillow a little, squinting at him a little under the mid afternoon sun. Cole's quiet for what feels like hours, just staring at Adam with bright blue eyes before she asks. "Did we sleep together?" "No." Adam whispers, feeling that ever familiar warmth start growing across his cheeks that seems to only exist whenever Cole stares at him. He watches the way her face contorts before he adds. "It's not that I d-don't wanna…It's just…uh…"

Adam stares at Cole before she starts laughing, softly at first as a weight seems to slip off her shoulders. "Good." She replies, nodding a little in a way that makes Adam feel like she's having a conversation more with herself than with him. "Where'd you get the bruise from?" Cole's fingers are on his face again, her nails itching against Adam's bruised jaw. "I got into a fight, some guy tried to grab ya. Kept thinking you were a guy.."

"Roddy is a little uh…stuck in the past." Cole admits, scrunching her face up a little. "We were friends..know before." Her hands flit out in front of her. "He just…wants me to be that guy again and…"

"Ya aren't." Adam chimes in before Cole can find the right word. The two of them share a small glance that says more than their mouths ever could. Cole nods and then silence floods the room the way the Florida heat floods the night air. Adam smiles, patting her shoulder softly. "You don't have to be that guy y'know that right? If you're happier like this.."

"I am…"

Taglist: @allelitesmut @homoeroticgrappling @dustinslovehandles @paradoxunknown @katries @mrsmatt @echoxshxrx @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @itsnoosetome @racerchix21 @jacedoe @chuckstaylors @old-no7 @thekadster @fallenangelomega @spookywrasslin @tahiri-veyla

#adam squared #adam cole #hangman adam page #mouse writes

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cpunkwitch · 8 months

Text

answering my own questions

[pt: answering my own questions]

dont really get sent anything and not many people sent in the questions when the games were posted and reblogged, and i wanted to talk about stuff, so here we are.

this might end up being a multiple part post series?

ask game one (link)

(if comfortable) tell us about your condition? as much info as youre comfy with sharing.

i have a defect in the base of my spine, since i was born its caused me chronic pain all throughout my development and in recent years its only gotten worse, twisting my spine, headaches, jaw issues etc. i've also got highly suspected rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and ive been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of anemia so bad that everytime a doctor looks at my results after bloodwork they give me a pained look and say "heyy...did you know your iron is low? like...really really low?". that and a hand full of other things, vitamin deficiencies, etc. i dont mind talking more about this

2. do you know about the spoon theory? if yes, what do you think of it?

i'll be honest, the majority of my knowledge of spoon theory off the top of my head is that "drawer with limited supply of spoons" is the disabled way of saying i only have so much motivation and energy (phys, as "battery" usually refers to social and emotional) in me. i've read up on it ages ago but would not be able to put into better words what i still remember about spoon theory (esp since we had a different host back then), i like that its just so much quicker and easier to convey my amount of ability to do things for the day by saying whether or not i have the spoons for it.

i do like to joke that my drawer is always stocked with knives and forks for the ablests, but sometimes that requires spoons to handle too. /silly

3. do you have mobility aids? if yes, which ones? if no, do you want any in the future?

i've mention how i really wish i could have a wheelchair if i were in a different situation, i dont know if i'll ever get one and i almost cried when my brother responded to my joke of "would you make on for me?" with an "i would if i could", i really would like a wheelchair of some kind in the future if the world were more accessible and i were in a safer place. right now though, i've just got my cane that still needs repainting. i guess my moms back brace counts too, i take it with me to work sometimes.

4. how did you find out about cripplepunk? what drew you to the community and movement?

i dont exactly remember but i've known about it for years. i (prev host) might have come across it looking up different punk aesthetics, though im not completely sure why it showed up in a punk aesthetic list, possibly because its punk and people misinterpreted it? my first glimpse was seeing patches on jackets, spiked customized aids, cripples/phys disabled people in your classic punk attire (piercings, dyed spiked mohawks, ripped jeans and fingerless gloves) and i loved it. im a sucker for self expression through appearance and customizing things and then when i found out it was a whole community for support and centered around being physically disabled in general and slowly came to terms with my own disabled body and started accepting myself, i kinda fell in love with cripplepunk in the "this feels like home" sense.

i could probably ramble way more but i'll stop there.

5. if you deal with any kind of pain, what's your method of pain management?

i use hot packs, ice packs, voltaren cream, sometimes i take a cbd gummy, i do little stretches when i remember them, i take walks and hot baths/showers, im trying to go back to the chiropractor and my favourite instructors in rehab (theyre trans friendly and complimented my cane when i first came in with it i love them so much), and i take whatever meds i can, normally anti-inflammatory like ibuprofen but because i cant swallow pills i either take liquid (yeah, childs liquid meds works, the couple hours of mild relief is still worth it) or powdered tylenol or something. the hot/cold stuff depends on the pain and where on my body the pain is.

6. do you stand or sit in the shower or do you prefer baths/find bathing easier rather than showers?

i take baths for my muscles and during the damn monthly ouch in order to relax my body. i take showers just for my shoulders and when im feeling icky and wanna rinse off or something, i take showers on a "regular" basis and i normally stand because the only way i sit is if im crouched in the tub and if i do that i get extra dizzy standing up to get out when i turn the water off. thankfully im no longer near passing out when i take a shower but i still have to sit on the floor matt after because my legs demand rest. i gotta be careful with hot water cuz not only will it make me overheat quickly (i will not realize if in standing in blood-boiling hot water and turning myself into a cooked lobster until after im out) but it can also cause me to literally fall asleep in the bath which can go wrong.

7. do you have a sort of comfort item or safety blanket that helps you feel better, especially on the worst days?

a couple things. a few of them are stuffies/plushies, or music, games or books to help me keep my mind off it i suppose.

8. name 3 things you hate about hospitals/doctors/nurses/the medical system

a) a lot of them refuse to take people seriously or actually listen. sure maybe theyre tired or heard the same shtick before and wanna make sure this person isnt just a drug user trying to pity their way into getting more, but even then all matters a patient presents them with should still be taken seriously and never brushed off or mocked.

b) the fact that the er, the place you take a ticket and wait, is called the Emergency Room, when its normally scheduled appointments and people taken in by the ambulance that are top priority. sure its called the er because most visits through the er are rushed "emergency" last minute visits, people going there because they couldnt schedule an appointment and needed to see someone on that day, but still it feels wrong to call it the emergency room when its really just a waiting room and regardless of the visit they arent actually treated as emergencies. the whole system of just going to see a doctor feels messed up and most of the time you end up just going to see a nurse, get a check up and leave when they tell you what they got after a talk and examination or they schedule to see you again when a doctor is available. because of this i tend to prefer walk in clinics.

c) the fact that they charge to damn much, no matter if youre insured, it still charges so much. no matter what they do. and yeah, healthcare in canada is free to an extent if youre insured but a lot of times they charge more than your insurance can cover and not everyone can get/has insurance. not to mention the medical debt so many people have in america. i get that staff and hospitals need pay and funding but the government should have that covered and not have the patients charged so much for getting help. i almost got charged over 3k just for my short visit to the ward because there was an issue with my insurance and thats a whole angry story for another time.

9. whats an accessibility tool you wish was more accessible/that you had access to?

one of them is aac, the one i have on my phone i have to disconnect my phone to and has a limited amount of phrases i can pick from. id like it better if the app or just aac programs in general when directly to your device speaker by default, had more options for more ease conversing and none of them were behind a damn pay wall, in-app purchase or otherwise. i rarely use it for several reasons but i'd love if i could use it more with less limitations.

also wheelchair ramps. i dont have a wheelchair ramp but i wish people stopped walking on them when theyre clearly able-bodied, i wished my parents taught me and my siblings what the ramps were for and not to run up and down them as well as other parents to their kids because those things are supposed to be clear for a wheelchair user. i also think the corners should be rounded for ease of turning and that wheelchair accessible paths in general should be firm to the ground (not a wimpy matt on the sand that flips over and gets buried on the beach unmaintained), maintained and cleaned regularly, not have any gaps (ive seen so many of the small ones installed in doorways that have a height gap above the ground which causes trouble getting the wheelchair on the ramp let alone through the damn door) and not have railings made of metal if theyre outside (they can often reflect light into peoples eyes and get too hot to touch in the sun both of which are not good issues to have no matter how small they seem.)

those are at least the first to come to mind.

10. whats the worst accessability cockblock you've seen ableds do/make?

theres quite a few i've seen but atm nothing significant comes to mind other than overpricing mobility aids or placing paywalls in front of aids in general.

however there was the few times in more than one school i went to you had to go to the office, provide a 'valid' reason and ask them for a key to the elevator, otherwise they make you take the stairs. i know they do it because they dont want able-bodied kids messing with it n shit but its stupid, it should be accessible to everyone regardless. thank fuck both collages ive been to so far give free elevator use to any staff or student but in the schools i went to i was only allowed have the access key because i couldnt walk up the steps on my sprained/twisted ankle and i had to give it back at the end of every day. the last school even limited my use to just the morning or 1-2 periods that i had on the second floor. nevermind if my locker was up there.

11. whats an accessibility tool youre very thankful for?

screen readers. my little brother uses/used em more than me and i dont use them too often but im glad they exist in general i used them when i was younger and my english teachers gave us work on the computer, i used it like an audiobook and it helped me majorly. i hate that people dont always provide translations to things and make things harder on screen readers by using coloured, tiny, non-serif font-ed or 'quirked' text but ever since i was a kid i was just as happy they existed as i was about braille.

12. name 3 things you like about hospitals/docs/nurses/the medical system

a) that there are some people there who are actually hoping, willing and ready to listen and help others.

b) that they provide things for kids like toys in the waiting room, people who specialize in caring for kids in the hospital, some doctors even have their office decorated. one doctor i went to had her entire office winnie the pooh themed and it helped me out a lot when i got blood work done n stuff, it was really comforting to stare at pooh bear instead of the sharp pokey in my arm.

c) that things are usually kept quiet with low voices, as it reduces risk of overstimulation as well as avoids hurting anyones head and protects privacy of those talking about whats going on. voices are usually only raised to a normal talking level when in the privacy of a nurse or doctor office and its something i dont see really acknowledged anywhere.

13. do you have any favourite disability rep? (media or character)

not picking from my own sources, when it comes to physical disability rep, its hard for me to pick something that involves a realistic character because most of them arent very well portrayed or i cant personally relate to. i can list Freddy freeman as one, hes a crutch user and how the shazam movie portrayed him does well in expressing what ableism can be like for some visibly disabled kids in school. i could probably list some shows that handle disability well through other means if i thought of them, i know theres a few that handle it through super heros being disabled (the one spider-person who's got both a wheelchair and a cane from the recent spiderverse movie for example) or non-human characters having differences that are implied to be disabilities, and i adore that creativity, especially with showing disabled super heros as it tells disabled kids theyre still strong, not broken, they can still be cool and do great things just like able-bodied people. hard for me to name specific things off the top of my head though, guess i like specific tropes around disability rep more than anything. it helps normalize disability and thats what really makes me happy with it. (thats a big reason why i made @/your-fave-is-crippled)

14. least favourite/worst disability rep?

not phys disabled but sia's fucked up movie right off the bat still angers me. i cant name any specifics once again, normally if theres some rep that i dont like i purposely forget they exist to begin with, they arent worth remembering if they arent gonna do it right, y'know? id rather forget and move on than linger and rage about it if i can help it.

15. list some creators (youtubers/bloggers etc) that are disabled and/or cater to a disabled audience that you enjoy? (if any)

@crippled-pvp, @cripple-culture-is are a couple blogs i follow that i enjoy seeing on my dash (sorry if you dont want to be tagged!)

there was a deaf/hoh girl i used to frequent the content of as she talks a lot about signing and i really enjoyed her videos, shes such a sweet person but i never remembered her name nor any of the other creators i watched/followed. no one else comes to mind atm

16. favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

i like that there are people with advice at the ready, whatever question you have or info you need etc, theres always going to be someone with the words you need. i just like how helpful people can be in general in this community and how easily support is accessed through the community.

17. least favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

the fact that theres in-fighting, fake claiming, judgment, quick assumptions, and general internalized ableism still going on when we're supposed to be a community helping each other out not tearing each other down. im not just talking about the fight over "inclusion vs exclusion" on cripplepunk and other sub/separate communities in the disability community.

18. favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

i think my answer to "what drew you to cripplepunk" also answers this.

19. least favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

honestly? none. i hate the people forcing themselves into a space not meant to include them nor benefits them in the first place. i cant actually think of an issue i have with the cpunk community, only issues with people outside being upset over how "exclusive" it is because they want in.

20. free space:

feel free to ask me about any of my answers! i'll make a second post for the second ask game some other time. its currently 11pm and i have to get up early for morning classes yuck

[ID: banner reading "dni if... proship, transx/id, syscourse/discourse blog, anti-mspec lesbians/gays, anti-lesboy/turigirl more in pinned rentry. this blog is protected by the addams family, the de rolo family and co." in all black lowercase text. It has a grey cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms with a cobweb in the top corner and symmetrically flipped on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina with the same cobweb in the bottom corner :End ID]

#cass rambles #disability blogging #actually disabled #physically disabled #cripplepunk #physical disability #cpunk #disabled #cripple punk #cpunk blog #answers

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cacio-e-peppino · 1 year

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Headcanons: Peppino Spaghetti

So, a big reason for me making this blog is that I wanted to share my headcanons for different characters! ... Particularly for Pizza Tower since I have a lot of headcanons for these characters that I don’t think would be very welcomed on other spaces. So, without further ado, let’s start with the man of the hour and my favorite character: Peppino Spaghetti. This man consumes 50% of my braincells at any given moment, so I have a lot of them. You can find them under the readmore ^^

Peppino is gay and trans. I like Peppino both being pre-op and post-op in terms of top surgery, and he's definitely on T.

Peppino is a first-generation American born to an Italian father and a Greek mother. They fled fascist WWII Italy when speakers of Greek were being persecuted (aka Peppino's mother) and settled somewhere vaguely in the New York City/New Jersey/Philadelphia area

Despite being born in America, Peppino still has a strong Italian accent! He learned how to speak Italian long before he learned how to speak English. He's trilingual and can speak three languages: Italian, English, and Greek. Italian and English are his two best languages. Sometimes he'll forget the word for something in one language and substitute it for the word in a different language instead

Peppino is autistic! His special interests include cooking and strategy games. He's a vestibular (i.e. movement and balance related stuff) sensory seeker who enjoys going really fast and climbing stuff. He also talks with his hands a lot, particularly since he's both autistic and Italian.

He also has some oral stims as well. For example, he likes to bite and chew things. For this reason, he can often be found carrying a pack of gum. He tries his best not to bite his hands since it's both considered a Sicilian insult (so he was frequently told to knock it off as a kid, that stuck with him) and because he doesn't think it's the healthiest behavior. Though, if he's really stressed, he'll bite his hand to calm down.

Spicy food is hit or miss for Peppino, most often miss. While he doesn't like hot wings, one of his favorite foods is Pepper Pizza- which is very spicy. He's very particular about spicy foods

Speaking of foods, Peppino's favorite food is unsurprisingly pizza. Even after the whole Pizza Tower incident, it remains his favorite food. Of course, while he likes many other Italian dishes, Peppino also really likes a lot of other Greek dishes too such as gyros and tomato fritters

Peppino fought in the Vietnam War. He wasn't drafted, but rather joined willingly as a display of masculinity (there was some household tension I think when Peppino first came out as trans, he didn't really understand nor care about the politics behind the war). Peppino was able to successfully get into the army using falsified documents and successfully hiding his feminine traits through techniques like upselling his Italian accent to mask his voice and explaining that he was just a bit out of shape to explain his larger than normal chest

The war was constant hell for Peppino. There was no safety to be found anywhere for him. Of course, the front lines are always dangerous. But, camp wasn't any safer for him. Peppino had to be very careful about hiding his identity as one slip up could have him ousted and sent back home shamed or worse. Additionally, an injury could out him to the medics too if needed medical treatment. So, to compensate for this, Peppino became the best fighter in his entire platoon. I think some people eventually figured him out, but didn't rat out Peppino because they knew they were safer with him around.

To his credit, Peppino was celebrated when he returned home and was recognized as a man by his family. Though, he got out of the army as soon as he could, and he ended up regretting joining in the first place since he was left with severe PTSD from the whole experience.

After the whole Pizza Tower incident, he ended up becoming friends with most of the Tower's inhabitants as he recognizes most of them didn't really work for Pizzahead and were instead manipulated some how into working for him. Though, Noise still bothers the shit out of him and he hates Pizzahead, doesn't like him at all.

Peppino feels this weird sense of responsibility for Fake Peppino, as if giving up on him was giving up on himself. So, even though Fake Peppino used to unnerve the hell out of him, Peppino let him live at the Pizzeria with him, Gustavo, and Brick and now he's pretty comfortable with Fake Peppino around

The only ship I particularly like with Peppino is Peppiblast (Peppino x Antonblast). I prefer him and Gustavo as friends, with Gustavo almost taking on a mentor-like relation with Peppino. I prefer Peppino and Noise as frenemies. While he's had bad relationships in the past, I do like the idea of Peppino wanting to be in one. I think his relationship with Anton is an interesting one with both of them helping each other grow- with Anton learning to become a bit more sensitive to those around him (you gotta be careful being a demolitionist dating a war veteran) and Peppino learning how to set boundaries better and communicate his needs better (he comes from a loving but misguiding family which left him with some issues)

#pizza tower #peppino #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower peppino #headcanons

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angel-in-shibari · 2 years

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you obviously know nothing about what "terfs" believe in. radical feminism is a far left movement. your whole rant is so embarrassing and clearly shows you've never read any feminist theory, been in feminist spaces, or interacted with a single radical feminist ever.

if radical feminism is far left, why do you and the far right both want to commit genocide against trans people, sex workers, homeless people, disabled people, etc.? I've never seen a single radfem say one positive thing about any of those groups of people. it's always "they are a disgrace to feminism! they shouldn't exist! they make all women look bad! we need to get rid of them all!"

and before you say "oh genocide is such a strong word", this is the official definition of genocide from the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide: The Convention defines genocide as any of five "acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, as such." These five acts were: killing members of the group, causing them serious bodily or mental harm, imposing living conditions intended to destroy the group, preventing births, and forcibly transferring children out of the group.

you already have at least three of these right now for transgender people. trans people are more than four times more likely to be murdered, assaulted, or raped. laws are being passed to strip them of their rights, and you freaks scream so much about "protect the children" which you think can only be enacted by forcing the child to live in a very specific restrictive and harmful way, rather than letting the child make their own decisions. sex workers are also facing some of these, particularly by making their work illegal. you paint all sex workers as helpless victims being trafficed by some gross man, but most of them are literally just people who record their own porn at home to make money, and rather than victims of abuse, are instead victims of poverty and capitalism. if you actually cared about helping them, you'd fight to raise the minimum wage and get rid of stupid restrictions that prevent them from working normal jobs, instead of throwing them in jail because they sell their own ass pics online. homeless people are also major victims of capitalism, as well as being tightly interconnected with the trans community. a large portion of houseless people are trans, and trans people are more likely to be homeless than cis people, mainly due to transphobia. but rather than helping them, ie providing them with houses and jobs and accessible food and water, you want to make it illegal for them to exist, and encourage police to destroy their tents and steal what little possessions they have. and disabled people get the most shit. as someone whos both physically and mentally disabled (plantar fasciitis and arthritis at age 20, as well as autism, anorexia, and add), I can tell you first hand that we get treated like absolute shit, and half the time aren't seen as human. I was fired from my last job because I dared to ask to use a cane at work. nothing is accessible for us, we are constantly excluded from society, and if we ever want to get married and have children, our benifits are taken away. I've seen multiple instances of children being taken away by cps from moms with eating disorders or histories of self harm. they think that because they had trouble taking care of themselves in the past, that they are incapable of healing and unable to provide for their children. even worse, people constantly beg people with autism and adhd not to have kids for fear of passing down autism and "cursing their children with that terrible illness". I can say that ignoring the people who constantly treat you like shit, living with autism is absolutely fine and not at all a curse.

I've never seen any single one of you terfs advocate for the rights of these groups even a single time. it's always hate and bigotry with you. you'd rather us all die than do a single thing to make any of our lives moderately easier. I doubt you even see any of us as human. and you dare call yourself a feminist? you dare call yourself left wing? you make me sick. honestly I think every single one of you needs therapy.

#long post #kvetching

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

Text

By: Dennis Noel Kavanagh

Published: May 22, 2022

[ Above: LGB Alliance making a point no charity should ever have to make ]

Of all the many absurd frauds perpetrated by gender ideology/biology denial the most egregious is the audacious lie “This is just like gay rights”, or the common riposte from the hard of thinking: “That’s just recycled homophobia”.

Such phrases are normally uttered by some risible gender borg, more often than not in answer to an actual homosexual daring to voice even a mild objection to the increasingly eccentric and dangerous demands of a creed whose main aim seems to be the re-medicalisation of homosexuality by force of gender.

Paradoxically, of course, Gay Rights 2.0 is actually the fight against biology denial, not for it and, with unerring symmetry, homophobia 2.0 is of course the fight to seriously sustain the argument that children playing with the wrong toys (normally gay) require surgical correction. For the sake of practicality and utility if nothing else, I propose here to set out why biology denial’s claim to our history, heritage and social position as gay rights activists is a fraudulent and sinister mockery of what our movement is, and what it stands for. Gender is a fraud by abuse of trust, most commonly a linguistic sleight of hand or a superficially plausible mapping of one issue onto another.

It’s easy to be fooled of course. Biology denial is a sort of hateful gay rights re-enactment society for bored bourgeois kids, some no doubt genuinely believe themselves to be fighting for “trans rights”, famously, none can specify the particular right when pressed. None can or do deal with detransitioners or inconvenient facts like homophobia being raised by the head of safeguarding at the Tavistock as a concern. Biology denial is a voluntary cyclops with one hand covering an eye which might otherwise survey the human collateral damage of this strange and failed aesthetic flesh cult. But then the acceptable casualties tend to be gay of course. That alone should provide you with a telling clue as to what is really going on.

[ Above: The absurd reconceptualisation of gay people as privileged beneficiaries with no history of pain ]

The 10 reasons biology denial is not Gay Rights 2.0:

(1) Biology denial regards gender non conformity as a medical issue

Biology denial position: Playing with toys atypical to societal gender roles should be regarded as the diagnostic criteria for experimental drugs with known results (underdeveloped genitalia, bone density deficits etc.) and as yet unknown results such that Nordic countries and France have now banned/seriously restricted their use. These drugs lock children into medical pathways with studies showing 97%+ graduation from puberty blockers to cross sex hormones.

Gay Rights position: Let children play with whatever toys they happen to like. Gender non-conformity is perfectly normal in our community. Children should not face lifelong medicalisation because homophobia is not taken seriously as a safeguarding issue at facilities engaging in gay conversion by gender.

[ Above: A mocked up satire on heterosexual MPs unwittingly supporting gay conversion by gender having not properly looked into the safeguarding of young gay people ]

(2) Biology denial is well funded, well connected and supported by left and right

Biology denial position: The profoundly religious and unevidenced suggestion that everyone possesses a gender soul enjoys huge corporate support and is also the de facto position of almost all trade unions in the UK. That consensus is largely mirrored in politics where the classic alignment of a political party is not a reliable indication of where it’s members stand on biology denial. While the right wing are in general terms more resistant to mass medicalisation of children, some of the most prominent gender borg acolytes in the UK are found on the Conservative benches. Ancillary to both is a monocultural charity sector where numerous “LGBTWTF” charities in effect act as proxies for one another. This leads to intellectual stagnation and discourse characterised by mantra like repetition of absurd phrases in place of arguments.

Gay Rights position: The gay rights of old and today is a grassroots phenomenon containing actual homosexuals. A comparison as between the funding arrangements for LGB Alliance, Gay Men’s Network, Lesbian Labour etc. and the leviathan biology denial outfits would be like comparing a local sports team to a televangelising mega church. Corporations and unions in the past had limited affinity with classic gay rights and support from both left and right was earned through open debate and discussion, rather than by diktat, shaming or dubious membership schemes requiring payment and adherence to a set of doctrines. Where BD is organised, lavish and entrenched in power structures the gay rights of old and today was and is a movement of private individuals giving up free time to fight homophobic hate.

(3) Biology denial rewrites science, language and history to appear organic

Biology denial position: Intersex/DSDs (Differences of Sexual Development) conditions should be dishonestly leveraged to argue sex is a spectrum despite such conditions being differences of either male or female development. Language control should become normal with a privileged class requiring forced/coerced language socially and in written communications. New words should be fabricated for an ever increasing range of biology denial identities and parties not adhering to new speech codes should be punished/ostracised/humiliated as “hateful”. Gay people may present a threat or object to the misuse of their movement as a vehicle for these aims so should be humiliated and demoralised by being told they owe all their rights to biology denial, their history should be extensively and audaciously rewritten to minimise/erase achievements by gay men and lesbians. History should further be raided and recrafted such that a claim to the long term existence of biology denial can be dishonestly made.

Gay Rights position: (Science) Human beings are not sequential hermaphrodites so cannot biologically change sex. Intersex/DSD conditions are not a debating prop nor is it fair or right to deploy these conditions when those with them loudly and repeatedly ask you not to. (Language) Coerced language is wrong and is simply a show of social power verging on bullying. In Gay Rights the advent of gay marriage was not accompanied by a demand that heterosexuals started saying “cis straight marriage”. Changing words is wrong and imperious. Homosexuals are not “homogendered”, nor is it morally acceptable to summarily redefine us in this way. The only language we’ve ever asked someone to accept is to get used to “his husband” or “her wife” and funnily enough most people are completely fine with that. (History) The achievements of lesbians, gay men and bisexuals should not and will not be forgotten. No social force/philosophy or cult has the right to rob people of their heroes. Our history should be accurately described according to facts, not rewritten to suit an oppressor class exploiting our movement and erasing our historical agency. Truth matters and gay history matters. We are a minority and minorities have more need of heroes that majorities. Children should not be taught lies about the Stonewall riots to suit the political objectives of biology denial and no movement should normalise the practice of trafficking in falsehoods.

[ Above: A sadly accurate assessment of how biology denial repackages historic anti-gay hate ]

(4) Biology denial believes in cancellation, silencing and harassment

Biology denial position: Disagreement of any kind should be met with pile-ons, attempts to get people sacked/driven from their jobs through stress, doxing and dishonestly representing their positions in the worst light all the while simultaneously maintaining that “there is no such thing as cancel culture”. Women in particular, like Maya Forstater, Professor Kathleen Stock and Professor Jo Pheonix are to be particularly targeted as they will engage in a reasonable manner and attempt to show kindness. As many BD adherents are fundamentally cowardly by nature, they will just about be able to add to the voices harassing these women where they would likely steer clear of a biological male. Only in this field, paradoxically, will the faithful unerringly recognise the biological demarcation between male and female. These public humiliations should chill freedom of speech and people should be afraid to say what they want with accusations of “hate speech” or “phobia” being made at the least provocation and on a hair trigger in order to silence any dissent.

Gay Rights position: An equal age of consent, gays in the military, equal marriage and employment protections required precisely zero women to lose their jobs nor did they require that anyone who opposed these measures be cancelled. We engaged in freedom of speech and a debate which is healthy and proper in a democracy. We note two of the women (Professors Stock and Phoenix) named above are lesbians, that is no accident. Lesbians were the first target of the biology denial movement particularly in the form of the demand they stop being lesbians and start sleeping with male bodies persons. That is homophobic. Chilling freedom of speech more generally and harassing people brings the gay rights movement into disrepute and squanders the goodwill brave lesbians and gay men built up over decades as it recasts itself as a bullying, authoritarian enemy of free speech.

(5) Biology denial believes in legislative change by deception

Biology denial position: There is no popular mandate for medicalising mostly gay kids or introducing the concept of gender souls into legislation such that the concept of “woman” is reduced to a self-declared feeling. If the public are left with a normal functioning legislative process, most would be horrified about matters such as homophobia as a child safeguarding concern at gender clinics or the reality of female prisoners forced to share cells with male bodies persons. The democratic process should therefore be subverted and far reaching legislative changes should be snuck into the law by abusing the close and unhealthy connections biology denial lobby groups have with legislators. Speaking to the public or actual gay people should be avoided as gay people in particular are likely to recognise and highlight the homophobia of biology denial. A vivid example is Stonewall’s campaign for there to be no public consultation on the “conversion therapy ban” (in reality a charter for gay conversion by gender).

Gay Rights position: Legislation in a democracy should be made on the basis of evidence, not ideology and normal consultation processes should be followed. The public should know what legislation contains and debates should be open and clear about what is being proposed. When the Gay Men’s Network and many other organisations responded to the government’s consultation on the “conversion therapy ban” we made the case that it amounted to conversion by gender. This is what gay rights organisations should be doing - fighting homophobia wherever it threatens gay people. Any policy that has to be snuck through a legislative process is, by definition, a change with something to hide. Gay rights movements have nothing to hide and we have never had to lie or obscure our policy objectives.

(6) Biology denial targets children for indoctrination

Biology denial position: Despite there being no evidence for this proposition and its far reaching consequences, children should be taught at school that they have a gender identity and this spiritual belief should be reinforced across youth media and through as much mainstream television as possible. Children are pliant and impressionable and less likely to ask questions. They should get the impression biology denial is fun and fashionable and present in ever increasing numbers at gender clinics so this movement can sustain a moral civil rights / safeguarding claim. Any suggestions of social contagion or harm should be met with as per (4) above with the claim that such concerns are hate.

Gay Rights position: Teaching children unscientific pseudo-religious dogma about gender souls is morally wrong and tantamount to using education as a way of proselyting a new religion. It is no accident the number of children presenting at biology denial clinics has risen in the UK in one instances of 5000% and in Scotland 1000%. To imagine that this increase is purely coincidental with these matters being taught in schools stretches credulity far beyond breaking point. Many of the children targeted in this way are gay. It is homophobic to teach gay children that they have the wrong bodies because they do not fit a sex stereotype. This is thus simply another homophobic religious belief which has no place in schools and it amounts to a serious safeguarding concern.

[ Above: The CEO of Stonewall equating lesbianism with a “societal prejudice”. ]

(7) Biology denial is racist

Biology denial position: Black people are a subset of the sex class to which they belong. The interests primarily of a group of white men with biology denier related identities come first. Countries that were colonised did not have a concept of male and female before white Western imperialism and were in a noble state prior to such corruption. What they now need is a new group of (mainly white) biology deniers to explain this to them and they should be re-educated in the ways of biology denial.

Gay Rights position: Allison Bailey was right to say in her keynote address at LGB Alliance conference that she had never known racism such as that emanating from biology denial / gender ideology. Her quote “if black women can be women, why can’t I” is a shocking illustration of the obvious racism of this movement. The targeting of Allison Bailey , Sonia Appleby, Kiera Bell and the public vilification of Baroness Kishwer Falkner is beginning to suggest that women of colour who speak out against biology denial face particularly harsh consequences. White men adopting biology denial identities seem to be at the forefront of this movement and many of them appear to be heterosexual.

(8) Biology denial is misogynist

Biology denial position: The word “woman” has no fixed definition and anyone who says they are woman is one, except adult human females who may only say that they are “menstruators”, “cervix havers” etc. Women should have no sex-based boundaries at all from toilets to bathrooms to prison cells or rape shelters, women who challenge this position at rape shelters should be called “bigots” who should “reframe their trauma”. The concept “woman” should primarily be understood with reference to sexual stereotypes and the performance of a particularly porn-based understanding of femininity. Women in particular who dissent (see (4) above) should especially be targeted for cancellation and silencing.

Gay Rights position: A woman is an adult human female. As homosexuals, same sex spaces and boundaries are not just necessary, they are the existential framework of our minority community. It is demeaning and morally wrong to existentially acid strip meaning from the word “woman”. The male Gay Rights movement has no interest in, or desire to compromise, female sexual boundaries or spaces. The lesbian Gay Rights movement has no interest in, or desire to compromise, male sexual boundaries or spaces. That is what makes us gay. The fact biology denial is preoccupied with this quintessentially heterosexual endeavour makes it a straight rights movement, not a gay rights one. The open harassment and abuse of women that goes on in the name of biology denial should be a source of shame to it. The fact it is not demonstrates aptly the contempt in which it truly holds women.

[ Above: A statement so utterly homophobic of course the author wasn’t cancelled ]

(9) Biology denial is homophobic

Biology denial position: Gay people are second class members of the movement who lack the determination to embrace one of biology denial’s ultimate goal, the surgical transformation of homosexuals into ostensible heterosexuals. Gender nonconformity should be medicalised. Lesbians and gays who disagree with this should be cancelled and excluded from their movement, charities and any social spaces where they might organise. Those who go along with this should be rewarded and encouraged to engage in woke conversion therapy propaganda.

Gay Rights position: Homosexuality is not a medical problem, our same-sex attraction is in fact a protected characteristic pursuant to s.12 of the Equality Act 2010 in the UK. Gay people owe it to the next generation to speak up in the face of our political vehicles being taken from us and we must make our own new organisations where necessary and form such groups/alliances as are necessary to protect our community. Biology denial is an existential attack on our minority community and it regards us as second class citizens. We must challenge and defeat it. We have to.

(10) Biology denial makes only pornography, not art

Biology denial position: As this in an inorganic, top-down movement it stunts creativity and blunts free thinking because both are threats to cult-like religions. Self-expression is limited to pre-designed identities and flags, each of which constrain and categorise human creativity while giving the illusion of choice. Biology denial produces a vast army of adherents who check and double check each other’s language/adherence to the core doctrines so will produce endless videos as to categorisation (what one can and cannot say without causing offence for example) and identities. This will keep followers in a state of fear where the primary concern is regulation of thought/language all the time purporting to celebrate authentic expression while completely annihilating that by the bureaucratic allocation of people into pre-approved conceptual categories. Because adherents will be in a state of fear and incapable of art, they will have less sex than the generation before so pornography and anime should be deployed to fulfil such needs as obtain.

Gay Rights position: Every era of gay rights has produced artists, poets, playwrights, singers, etc. who have produced world-changing art, music and prose. Gay Rights has never encouraged or been of a mind which makes or recycles mediocre memes. The free expression most gay people treasure from their first ever trip to a gay bar is mirrored in the free expression many treasure in our words, paintings or music. We have nothing in common with a bureaucratic allocation exercise endlessly obsessed with labels and we are very far away from a world view which deprecates or diminishes the perfectly normal appetite for sex.

It should be unsurprising that the Gay Rights position mirrors liberalism, while the Biology denial position is explicity anti-liberal.

#Dennis Noel Kavanagh #gay rights #gender ideology #queer theory #biology denial #same sex attraction #homophobia #homophobia 2.0 #homosexuality #LGB Alliance #woke homophobia #religion is a mental illness

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creepswrites · 2 years

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Mask of Hate Ch 2 (Michael x Reader)

god I need a better writing schedule BUT with Halloween Ends finally out, I figured no time like the present. I hope this long chapter is worth the wait!! I've got a few WIPs that just don't want to be written yet ;;

Michael Myers x trans!Reader (he/him)

Summary: Your eyes drifted to the knife block, noting the single knife missing. Michael must have it. Swallowing, you followed your father upstairs. He was slamming open every door, pointing his gun at every little movement. First his bedroom down the end of the hall. The hallway closets, your bathroom, and then finally, up to your bedroom door. WARNING: graphic depiction of death/violence, mentions of past deaths, animal injury (no death though), Michael is his own warning

CH 1.

“Has anyone ever shown you kindness?” Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking slowly up at you, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out, lounging out in the bathtub while you washed his hair. For the past few weeks, you’d established a routine. Michael would get hurt or get hungry, he’d come visit you. Sometimes he’d watch you sleep but he’d always be gone by the next morning.

Since the incident where you had helped him get away from the cops by making yourself bait, the two of you had an interesting partnership. He’d been upset at the time, rightfully so, but you’d been doing your best to make amends. It wasn’t normal for him to care about another person but you were doing your best to make it easy. So, you’d taken to touching him more, easing him into the idea of affection. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things like that. Michael had always associated touch with pain until you. Though your touch was likely only tolerated because you fixed him up. He’d come to you injured and bloody from fights, sometimes grazed by bullets if the cops caught him, and you’d nurse him back to health.

You’d been in the middle of bathing him when you’d asked him. The bathroom was clean, for a bathroom, and while he was too big for the tub, he had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you. You’d bought black wash clothes and a black towel so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about bloodstains and you’d gotten clothes for him in his size that he could wear. Sweatpants and a t-shirt folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

Today he hadn’t come bloody but he had come to you for something. Had showed up at your backdoor and made a beeline for the bathroom and you’d gotten the message. Bathing him had become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it’d ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you like he was staring through you. Your hands stilled, still frothy with the light purple berry shampoo you were scrubbing into his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself quietly. “Besides me,” you clarified softly as you scrubbed his scalp in slow circles. “You’re- You don’t-“ You sighed, trying to find the words, “I feel like people didn’t care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense…”

Were you anyone else, you don’t doubt he’d kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, blue-green eyes narrowing. In anger or confusion, you couldn’t tell.

That was another development. As you two grew closer, he’d started taking his mask off. The first time he’d done it, it’d been because he’d been frustrated with his mask, pulling it around his face. His hair was too long and sat uncomfortably in his mask so you’d offered to cut it. Michael had thought on it for a few days and you’d reassured him he didn’t have to say yes.

Then you’d come home from work to find him sitting on your bed, scissors in one hand and latex mask clenched tight in his other. Michael didn’t look scared, not in the way you were used to seeing other people look scared. He wasn’t shaking or staring at you with fearful eyes. But his jaw was clenched. His gaze was harder. And he’d been tense having you with something sharp so close to his neck. At least a dozen times during the haircut, he’d gotten up to stand in the corner because of how overwhelming it was. You’d let him.

You’d gotten better at reading him. He’d gotten better at giving you cues.

He sat up, putting his legs under the water, wet hair slowly slipping from between your fingers as he turned to stare at you. Michael was interesting to you, always was. You knew he was curious about you too. He’d stare at you when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly, be it around the house or at work. “What?” You asked softly, staring at him with your hands hovering over the tub so you didn’t get soap everywhere.

Michael blinked slowly. It reminded you of when Mayhem would blink at you. “Don’t gimme that,” you teased, smirking at him. “I just- I always feel bad for you, thinking about it. You grew up in a fuckin’ asylum, alone. Like-“ Michael reached up and put a wet hand around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding it there. You got the message: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, humming a thoughtless tune to yourself.

He did things like that. Held your throat or your wrist to indicate what he wanted. Words didn’t come to Michael but he could communicate. It’d stopped becoming scary to you when you’d started taking in the context clues. The rest of the bath continued in a comfortable silence, only disturbed by your humming.

Once he was clean and dressed, his jumpsuit in the wash, you went downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, wearing the black sweats and dark grey t-shirt with his wet hair dripping dark spots on his shoulders. “You’re probably due for another haircut, by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

Michael stared at her, standing in the doorway of your kitchen. You looked over your shoulder and you felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren’t for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. You felt your face heat up at the thought, turning to stare at the fridge but not really seeing anything. “Umm… anything specific you want tonight?” Your voice was quiet and when you looked up, Michael was standing only a foot from you and nearly making you jump with surprise. Sneaky bastard…

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking from your face to stare at the open fridge. Before you could speak, the sound of the door opening had you both freezing. It felt like icy water was dumped down your back and you felt hot and cold all over. Adrenaline pumped through you as you whispered to Michael to hide upstairs. You quickly shut the fridge and went into the living room.

There were two doorways that led in and out of the kitchen. One that led into the living room and another that led into the hallway. You could walk a circle around the dividing wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. You just needed to pray Michael would slip into the hallway before your dad realized anything.

“H-hey dad! You’re home early…” You called as you headed towards the front door.

Your father seemed exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and hanging it up. “Yeah, I decided to come home a bit early… It’s been an exhausting few weeks. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing today. Who knows, maybe he’s dying.” He chuckled. Your stomach tightened but you tried to keep your smile relaxed.

“Cool, cool, I was, uh, just about to make dinner. Was thinking grilled cheese, unless you had something specific you wanted?” You leant in the doorway of the kitchen, hoping to divert your dad’s attention.

Your stomach did flips as your dad made his way past you and into the kitchen. Thankfully, Michael was gone and so was Mayhem. “Grilled cheese sounds good. You want me to-“ Your dad was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He sighed and gave you a wistful smile. “I’ll take this outside. You almost sighed a relief when he went back outside.

Michael stepped out from behind the wall, standing in the doorway that led into the hallway. You swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in his hand, the latex mask on his face. His walls were back up but you didn’t take it personally. “Grilled cheese okay?” He stared at you before giving a slow nod. You tried to smile reassuringly. “Maybe he’ll get called into work.”

You pulled various cheeses out of the fridge before you paused. “He, um, he said you haven’t been killing lately?” You looked over at him, noting Michael’s eerie stillness. “You, um, you have been less bloody than usual. Is everything… okay?” It felt a bit weird, asking when he was going to kill another person again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. Still, he just stared at you. “Just let me know if you’re starting up again soon, yeah? Dad told me Dr Loomis has been looking for you as well-“

With shocking speed, Michael approached you and held the knife to your throat. But you could see the tension in his shoulders and hand and you didn’t feel scared of him. The knife was another method of expression when he was with you.

Maybe you were just projecting onto him, but you got the impression that, deep down, he was scared of losing you.

“Michael,” your voice was soft, barely a whisper, “It’s fine, nothing’s wrong.” You tried to reassure him. Slowly, your lifted your hand to hold his wrist, like he did with you.

His eyes bore holes into you and you swallowed. He wasn’t angry. At least not at you. If he was, he’d be pressing the knife in harder and threatening to break skin. This was just him holding it to your throat, trying to process what he was feeling.

The sound of the door swinging open with a bang had you both freezing. You tore yourself away from Michael to hurry to your dad, feeling sick at the sight of his horrified and furious expression. “W-what’s going-“

“Michael Myers was sighted earlier this evening.” His voice was shaking with restrained anger. “He was coming up this way, standing around our house.” He spun about, starting to close and lock windows. “Have you seen or heard anything?”

You swallowed around your lie. “No, no, nothing like that.” Watching your dad hurry about, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “D-did they say when?”

“About an hour and a half ago. One of our neighbors called it in.” He took his gun out of his holster and looked at you. “You’re sure you haven’t seen or heard anything?”

You just hoped your anxious look was interpreted as fear of a killer in the house and not fear your dad was going to be killed. He started marching around the house, searching for a sign. “Where’s your cat?”

“I- I don’t-“ You started.

“Dead, then.” Your dad said bluntly. “Myers is known for killing the pets first so they don’t sound an alarm of any kind.” He shot you a sympathetic look before resuming his search.

Your eyes drifted to the knife block, noting the single knife missing. Michael must have it. Swallowing, you followed your father upstairs. He was slamming open every door, pointing his gun at every little movement. First his bedroom down the end of the hall. The hallway closets, your bathroom, and then finally, up to your bedroom door.

The room was still, presumably empty. Though your closet door was slightly propped open.

Your dad held a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said softly before clicking off the safety in his gun and slowly, slowly creeping forward. Everything felt tense and you chewed anxiously on the nail on your thumb.

Out of the corner of your eye, down the hall, you spotted faint movement. The glint of the knife reflecting light from the setting sun leaking in from the bathroom window. You almost let out a sigh. How he was able to move around so quietly, you’d never know.

Your dad swung open the closet door. At the first sight of movement, he fired two shots.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, and darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. His black fur had obscured him just enough your dad hadn’t gotten a clear enough shot. “MAYHEM!” You shrieked in horror, noting the slight amount of blood trailing behind the cat as he ran. The stuttered apologizing from your dad did nothing to quell your fears and you took off after Mayhem.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the little doggy door. Your heart sank and you swung the back door open, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-stained fields it was hard to see the blood or your black cat. When minutes ticked by with no response, you curled up in a ball on one of the lawn chairs, bare feet stained with grass and mud as you sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was there!” Your father explained from where he stood in the doorway of the house. “He’ll- he’ll come back-“

“You SHOT him!” You screamed, throat already sore from calling for Mayhem. “You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!” You got up and shoved him in the chest, tears obscuring most of your vision.

He seemed taken aback, glaring. “Hey, it was an accident! I didn’t mean to shoot him, don’t blame this all on me. It wasn’t on purpose!” Your dad sighed and you stared at him, glaring daggers. “I’ve been working long hours and I got a call there was a killer in the house! I thought it was Myers!” He yelled, putting his gun back on his holster.

You saw red. “You SHOT my fucking CAT and that’s all you can say?! That it was an ACCIDENT?” You hit at his chest with clenched fists, like you were pounding on a door. “My cat is going to DIE because YOU can’t use your stupid fucking GUN-“

Your voice was cut off when your dad grabbed you by your arms and slammed you into the doorframe, the back door opened wider. You stared at him, blinking back tears as pain shot down your spine when you hit your head on the edge of the frame. “Listen,” he sighed, “I’ll get you a new cat. But I am stressed enough right now as it is. Let. It. Go.” He just seemed tired now, pleading with you to drop it long enough for him to find the Boogeyman.

Movement in the kitchen caught your attentions. Michael stood there, clenching his knife tight in his fist. His jumpsuit was on, still not fully cleaned and heavy with water. Your dad reached for his gun but Michael was quicker, storming forward and grabbing him by his neck. Your father was yanked away harshly from you and you didn’t even look at him, too stunned at your dad’s words.

“Get- get my gun!” He shouted at you as Michael dragged him into the kitchen, brandishing a knife and holding it to his neck. “C-c’mon get-!” His words were cut off when Michael slammed him to the ground, pressing his knee to your dad’s chest.

Slowly, reality came back to you and you looked over at the two. “Michael,” you said calmly, waiting for the dark pits of the masks’ eyes to focus on you, “I’m- I’m okay, I’m not hurt.” He tilted his head slowly, trying to figure out what you wanted from him. “J-just let him-“

When your dad got a grip on his gun, you acted without thinking. You hurried over and kicked his hand, yanking the handgun out and tossing it to the other side of the room. Michael pressed the tip of the knife to the man’s sternum and you could feel the anger and hatred radiating off of the masked man.

You stood over the two, arms around your middle as you looked between them. None of this felt real to you, not in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick movie about a serial killer you felt attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you let him get close.

Sliding to the floor, you curled up on yourself. Head resting on your knees as you silently wept.

Your dad must’ve processed things then: the now-silent washing machine upstairs that had been turned off when Michael got his jumpsuit, the lack of shoes on the Boogeyman’s feet, and his trust of you. “You’ve been hiding him here.” His voice dripped with malice. “You’ve been hiding the man I’ve been hunting. Right. Under my fucking nose!” He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael and wheezing when the other man just pressed his knee harder into his chest.

No point hiding it. “Yeah, yeah.” you sniffed. “I feed him and b-bandage him. H-he protected me…” Michael slowly turned his head and you assumed he was looking at you from over his shoulder. “W-we’re friends.”

Your dad stared at you as best he could from his place on the floor. “Maybe I s-should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms back in that f-fucking asylum!” He spat at you and Michael pressed the tip of the knife down, hot red blood oozing out.

You didn’t even bother entertaining a response.

“Y-you’re gonna- gonna let him KILL me?!” Your dad gasped, realizing you weren’t trying to stop Michael anymore.

You were quiet for a second, looking over and wincing at the sight of the blood. “You shot my cat and slammed me in a door.” You spat bitterly, wiping your teary eyes. Subconsciously, you’d come to terms that your dad was going to die as soon as he came in the door. It wasn’t like you could convince Michael to let him go at this point. He was protecting you from a threat, in his eyes.

So you just shut your eyes when Michael started stabbing.

The stench of bleach burnt your nose and made your eyes water as you cleaned the floor. Thank god the kitchen floor was a white linoleum like the bathroom. Michael was currently out of the house, killing the closest neighbor you had. She’d seen Michael with you and if your dad turned up dead and you lived, she’d be suspicious. You’d opened the windows to air out the kitchen as you stood up, wiping your brow.

The blood hadn’t stained, thankfully. You didn’t ask Michael what he’d done with the body. It would only serve to upset you. So he’d taken the body and left with your dad’s car, presumably to deal with it.

You clutched the handle of the mop and clenched your jaw. Things changed. You were an accomplice to Michael’s crimes now. Your father and Mayhem’s blood was gone, no evidence it had even been there. The knives were disinfected and cleaned, now all resting in the knife block. Michael was moving the body and, once he was done, he’d come home and you’d wash the blood from his hands and clothes.

It should upset you. Your own dad was just killed in front of you. The wet sounds of the knife plunging in and out of his chest still echoed in your mind. But you couldn’t even feel anything beyond anger that he’d shot Mayhem. And now your baby kitty was gone and it was all his fault.

The sounds of the door opening took you from your thoughts. You set the mop down in the now-empty bucket and went about moving it into the closet. You didn’t need to look up to know Michael was staring. He smelt of wet earth and blood and when you turned to look at him, he had his mask clenched in his hands. Blood covered his hands and mask where he gripped it.

“Are you okay?” You asked him. No response came but you knew one wouldn’t. He stepped towards you, flecks of dirt falling off his boots as he approached you. You tried not to flinch when he took your wrist but you knew he saw it. “Sorry,” you said quickly, “I should’ve done something to- to make him leave. Or-“

He cut you off with a harsh squeeze and you shut your eyes. A tug on your arm and you had to hold up your other arm to avoid him getting blood all over your clothes. You stared up at him, eyes wide in confusion.

Michael just stared at you. He wasn’t usually expressive with his face. Typically, he just stared at you with a blank face. Now, though, there was a softness to his eyes that wasn’t usually there. If you weren’t so familiar with his expressions, you wouldn’t know. But you were. You could see it.

He was worried about you.

“I’m- I’ll be okay,” you said, trying to reassure him. “It sucks now but… I knew it was inevitable. On some level…” Michael tilted his head slightly. “It was always going to be you or him. I choose you.” You felt your face warm up and you had to look away when you said that. It felt too revealing. Like he’d see your feelings on your face if he stared hard enough.

So you reached for the zipper on his clothes instead and slowly pulled it down. “Let’s- let’s get you into clean clothes-“ You let the bloody jumpsuit fall to the floor, pooling around his feet. You could have sighed at the little flecks of red that fell onto the freshly-cleaned floor. He had the shirt from earlier on with just boxers in place of the sweatpants. Michael didn’t move though, just continued to stare at you.

You blinked in confusion, looking up at him. “Michael?” Your question wasn’t answered when the taller man’s brow furrowed, searching your face for something. “Are you- okay?” The air in the room felt tense when he suddenly held you to his chest, letting go of your arm to put an arm around your waist. He seemed to relax when you blushed, his head tilting curiously.

He raised a bloody hand slowly, dragging one finger down across your cheek, marveling at the way it stained your skin. A red to match the blush on your cheeks.

Without warning, he stepped away and left you flustered in the kitchen. You stared at the empty space he once occupied and you only broke from your trance when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you picked up his jumpsuit and took it upstairs to throw it back in the washing machine. The blood was still fresh so here’s hoping it wouldn’t stain.

With the floor cleaned up and Michael still upstairs, you felt a bit out of sorts still. Your cat was missing, your father was murdered, and the man responsible was upstairs showering. And you were going to be making him grilled cheese for dinner because that’s all you could emotionally handle.

Swallowing, a thought came to you. You took Mayhem’s food bowl and cracked open a can of tuna and poured the wet substance into the bowl. The sound made you gag but you knew Mayhem loved the stuff. He might come home if he smells food, right?

You set the bowl on the back door and winced when you remembered the kitty had trailed blood all through the house. The sun had set, the sky starting to take on the indigos of night time and you just hoped the raccoons didn’t get to the food before Mayhem did.

The cops came after about two days. When no one on the force had seen or heard your dad in a few days, they came to check. It wasn’t hard to play up the distress you felt. The five stages of grief hit harder than you expected. On the first day, you’d yelled at Michael and had hit your fists against his chest and he’d let you, just tilted his head when you’d sobbed against him. You’d wondered, briefly, how he had felt when his sister died.

“We found him dead. Stabbed in the throat in his car with your neighbor. Do you… know what was up with that?” The officer interviewing you asked.

You nodded through tears. You and Michael had briefly established your alibi and he’d set it up for you. “He- um. He came home and said- said he’d gotten a call from her. S-someone was s-stalking outside her house and s-she wanted a ride into town. T-to go to a hotel. W-when he never came home, I thought he went back to w-work… He’s- he’s been working so much I-“ You wept into your hands.

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, kid.” He sighed. You’d recognized him when he’d come in with a few other officers. Michael had easily been named the killer so you weren’t a suspect. They didn’t know Michael was taking the opportunity to kill again. He’d left in his jumpsuit and mask, likely to return home to you for food again. He hadn’t left you alone at all the day after your dad died. He hovered in the corners of any room you stood in, held your wrist and arm if you were close enough.

Michael didn’t feel bad about it. You knew that wasn’t why he was touching you so much. He was scared of losing you, even if he wouldn’t let you see that.

You’d given your statement and the police left. With everything that had happened, you also wanted to get out of the house. You had work tomorrow and you wanted a moment without Michael’s eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you’d gotten dressed into proper clothes, put some shoes on, and went into town. Maybe on another day you’d put in more effort but you knew the whole town would be looking at you. News reports of your dad’s crime scene would be all over the news, on the televisions and newspapers, and the officers who knew your father would be sharing stories in bars over drinks.

The thought of looking at the pet stores occurred to you. Maybe if Mayhem was gone for over a month, you’d consider it. You took your keys and got in your car to drive to town. No use walking. Plus, you didn’t want to find your feet leading you to the crime scene. The one you helped Michael commit. You should have told your dad he was there, should have gotten Michael to leave the house, should have knocked your dad unconscious and dragged him out to his car and called an ambulance… anything to have prevented the fate he’d been doomed to.

But you chose Michael. You didn’t regret your choice so much as feel guilty for how your choice had been made. A part of you knew that if Michael needed to skip town, you’d go with him. If he went back to the asylum, you’d go with him. The two of you were in this together now. A pact made in your father’s blood.

It shouldn’t give you butterflies the way it did.

You climbed out of your car when you parked outside a department store. Everything felt heavy as you stood up and made your way inside. The bright white lights illuminated aisles filled with clothes, toys, books, and food. A jack-of-all-trades kind of store. You walked the aisles without a goal in mind. Buying food would probably be a good idea if you had remembered to look at the fridge before you’d left. Maybe you’ll just wing it…

“Hey,” a soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you looked over your shoulder. Laurie Strode. She was only a year or two older than you. She still lived with her parents as she worked though you knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sympathetic look. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed once. “Y-yeah. Thanks. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

The two of you said polite goodbyes and it left you feeling uneasy. It was easy for you to slip into a world where Michael was interested in you, a little bubble with just the two of you. Sure, you knew of his victims. Your own father had been made one right before your eyes. But it was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that his actions had consequences that spread beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad’s funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you, some townspeople who definitely weren’t invited still showed up to give condolences. At some point, you even thought Laurie Strode left an apple pie for you before escaping without a word. Your dad had asked to be cremated when he died and have his ashes mixed with water. He wanted to be water used to help grow flowers on your late mother’s grave. It was a… unique way of wanting to be buried but you felt it was the least you could do.

Guilt still ate at you. He’d probably haunt you if he didn’t get to be united with your mom in some way. So you bought some daisies - her favorite - and brought them with his ashes and a water bottle to her grave. Haddonfield’s graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer, some older and covered in moss and dirt. Your heart always ached seeing the forgotten ones.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers’ grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside hers, a spot they reserved for themselves about a year after she had died. Michael, they had insisted, deserved nothing less than no tombstone nor funeral.

It had been a horrible story. Even after their son was sent to Smith’s Grove, his parents had still received harsh criticism for some time. Even though the horrors of Michael’s crimes were the highlight, there was an underlying belief that the parents had some hand in it. That the neglect of their youngest drove him to acting out or that his mental illnesses going unchecked and unmedicated caused him to kill Judith. Their harsh criticisms of their own son made many skeptical.

When they’d died in a car crash two years after Judith had died, few turned up for the funeral. At the time, the town didn’t know what to think of the child who had killed and therefore the death of his parents just felt like a nail in a coffin somehow. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out of Smith’s Grove. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted him to recover. Some saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts aside and knelt before your mom’s grave. Digging up the damp earth - still wet from the rain earlier today - with your bare hands, you took the daisies out from their little pots and lay them in the hole made for them. With the dirt patted down, you barely winced at the dirt under your nails and staining your hands. You liked gardening, after all. This was hardly different from that. So, you opened the jar of your dad’s ashes and carefully, carefully, poured them in with the water.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wishes. After everything, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers and sat there with the bottle once it was empty.

Talking to your mom’s gravestone had never been a habit of yours. You’d seen people do it before, your dad used to do it for your mom. There was just little appeal in it for you. It felt weird, talking to air. And you weren’t going to start now. But you did have a small, internal conversation that you hoped your mom would be happy to see him and that you wouldn’t be too upset if she hated you for what happened.

She’d died when you were young and you never knew her well. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she was. Growing up, you’d looked at your friends’ parents and had felt a sting that you didn’t have a mom. But you didn’t particularly care for the woman buried beneath your feet. She was, essentially, a stranger. Your dad knew her better than you but you’d never brought that up with him. He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap.

Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you had become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn’t even bother lifting your head. Just crossed your arms and folded up your legs, staring at the headstone surrounded by daisies. “Do you ever miss them?” You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear. “Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister, I heard about what you did with her stone when you killed those high schoolers.”

The silence was deafening. Only the soft sounds of birds broke the stillness.

“I’m trying to decide how I feel,” you confessed. “I never knew my mother so I can never miss her. She was never part of my life.” You swallowed. Maybe it was harsh, but it was always an internal thought you’d wanted to verbalize. If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn’t tell anyone. “But I don’t know how I feel about my dad dying. Not yet. I feel like my mother and I always competed for him. He always spoke so highly of her and loved her even after death. Even when I was there and needed his attention.” You wiped your eyes and sniffed.

You cleared your throat. “It’s weird. I feel like sometimes he wished I had died and she had lived. I haven’t decided if I fault him for that yet. She was his wife before I was his kid after all…” You looked over your shoulder, noting Michael standing only a few feet away, eyeholes in his mask staring at you. “Do you ever think about if your parents wished Judith lived and you had died? Or do you think they wished they never had you?” It was hard to choke back your sobs then, curling in on yourself to let you cry.

The soft rustle of grass beside you was the only indicator he was sitting beside you, criss-crossed in the damp grass in front of your mom’s grave. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to.

He just let you cry in front of the daisies.

#🔪 creeps writes #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #halloween 1978 #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #michael myers

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wolfiemcwolferson · 1 year

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For a prompt. Carlos coming out to Lando as nonbinary and being accepted (maybe Lando's already out?) and happy crying.

Hi friend,

As I said, I wrote my own coming out and had to backtrack hahahahah.

Carlando - NB character - as I said yesterday, if trans things bother you, kindly fuck off. Carlos is going through it so there's a little bit of a clunky thought process in parts of this while he's trying to make it all make sense in his head.

It stays in the back of Carlos' head for weeks after he reads that article Lando sent him.

He hadn't understood really when Lando called him from the other side of the world to say that Ruth - someone they were going to be meeting up with in just a few weeks at that resort - had come out as trans and asked Lando to ease that with his friends and -

"People feel that strongly about their -" Carlos had paused, looking for a word, and Lando had cut him off uncharacteristically cold for Carlos, especially when Carlos frequently paused like that to find an English word.

"Listen, mate." Lando had bit out the word mate. "If you can't be cool about it, stay home, alright. I'll send you this blog post, so think about it." And then he had hung up.

A link to a blog had come through to him via WhatsApp and then there had been nothing between them since.

Lando because he thought Carlos was -

And Carlos because...Carlos had read it that night while he stood in the shower and had been thinking of nothing else since.

He assumed everyone felt disconnected from their...gender? Sex? Whatever they were. Whatever he was.

He assumed that everyone sometimes felt as though they were just a person and not a man or a woman.

But, what he's finding from the long dive on this blog, is that...he isn't the normal one. That people do in fact have a strong sense of self and - gender. People have a strong sense of gender.

He doesn't have one. He thought...he thought everyone felt the way he does and he doesn't understand anything anymore.

He locks his phone, placing it beside him on the bed and he itches to call Lando and...Lando would know what to say to him, but he rolls over and out of bed before pulling on a pair of running shorts.

He can try and get his mind right that way at least.

Lando calls him the next day from Carlos' driveway.

This isn't unusual considering that whatever they're doing with each other that has no name means Lando is comfortable in Carlos' space, but what's unusual is that they haven't spoken in too long so when Carlos swings the door open, he holds himself away from Lando, clinging to the door.

Lando looks pinched and sleep deprived and Carlos tries to remember where he was...Dubai maybe?

"Can I come in, mate?"

It bristles on all of Carlos' exposed spots - on everywhere he's tried to prod out answers from underneath his skin - and it must show on his face because Lando goes soft in an instant.

"Carlos," he whispers, letting his bag drop from his shoulder and stepping through the door. "I -" he swallows and Carlos tracks every movement as Lando wraps a hand around Carlos' wrist. "I'm sorry, okay? I know you're not -"

Carlos knows this word in English because he's spent the last two weeks reading and reading and reading. "Transphobic."

Lando nods, looking guilty. "Transphobic, yeah. I know you're not-"

Suddenly, this conversation is not something that Carlos can be having so he smiles at Lando - a bit crooked and a little fake, leaning down to kiss him quickly. "Are you hungry?"

It's a redirection and they both know it.

Lando gives an equally fake smile and nods before backtracking for his bags.

Carlos can stuff this down. He can not think about this until later. Maybe never.

The problem is...Carlos can't stop reading that stupid blog.

He's not...he's not a girl. He's pretty sure about that. But he's not quite sure he's a boy either? And a guest writer who is nonbinary writes a piece that seems to be ripped directly from Carlos' thoughts and he...he leaves it open in his phone browser, buried between a couple of tabs about coding that he uses when the software people at Ferrari start speaking in words that he doesn't understand.

And he pulls it up...a lot.

He reads it when he should be stretching for quali and he reads it when he's on the plane with Charles and he reads it when Lando is across from him on the couch, wailing about how Carlos doesn't pay him any attention and one night he's reading it when Lando calls for him from the kitchen and he carries his phone with him, setting it on the edge of the counter as he saves their dinner from going up in flames.

Lando is laughing and he picks up Carlos' phone - probably to take a picture because that's what he does - but then he must see what Carlos has open and he sets it down again, quickly.

"You -" Lando closes his eyes. "You're still reading up about -"

Carlos should say yes, but instead he crumples. Chin to his chest and shoulders next to his ears and arms wrapped around himself and -

"Hey." Lando says with force, clicking off the burner and shuffling Carlos away to the opposite counter, "What's happened?"

Carlos wishes he could open his brain and just let Lando see the mess he's created over the last three months. Just see the way he can't name anything anymore. How every time they're in bed, Carlos is more aware of his body than he ever has in his life and how when Lando talks about how masculine Carlos looks in that last photoshoot, Carlos feels like he's an imposter and how he just wants Lando to see him somehow and understand that Carlos is -

Lando wraps his arms around Carlos - tight tight - and speaks into Carlos' hair. "Does is have to do with that blog?"

Carlos nods, tucking his face further into Lando's neck.

"Are you -" Lando stops and breathes. "Are you feeling like...you're struggling with gender?"

Carlos hasn't said it out loud or really even said the words to himself so he tucks his face down into Lando's neck harder, pressing hard.

Lando cradles the back of his head with one hand and tilts his face up with the other. "You know that I -" Lando starts to say before stopping. "Carlos, anyone you are to me is who I want."

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut because he's overwhelmed and sometimes it's easier to say things when it's in the dark and he doesn't really want to see Lando's expression when he -

"I think I might be what they say in the blog." Carlos takes a deep breath. "Nonbinary."

It's silent and still and he's afraid that Lando is going to go. This is still an undefined thing after all and he probably doesn't want this complication when he could -

"My partner," Lando whispers before putting a hand on Carlos' cheek. "I will just call you my partner while we figure it out."

Carlos does cry now.

Big tears that splash onto his shirt and that Lando tries to wipe away with his shaking fingers because Carlos feels seen and understood even when...even when Carlos doesn't understand.

"Thank you for telling me that." Lando says even though Carlos didn't tell him anything. "Whoever you are is safe with me."

#a tiny exploration on gender #carlando #I wrote this when it appeared in my inbox and it was too personal for public view and I still managed to make it quite personal

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