Achilles Is Trans Masc Coded Bc He Had To Pretend To Be A Teenage Girl For Years For His Own Safety Send

I know that a lot of people use fanfiction and fandom as an escape mechanism for the heavy things but please remember that those of us who can do that can only do it because we’re safe.

cod fandom attention pls to save a Palestinian teenager

Please either donate or engage with the post in some way so more people see it, either way it genuinely does help in a meaningful way even if it doesn't feel like a lot

"It's hurting trans eggs when you say something against fujoshis!!!1!1!!1!11! 😭😭😭"

As if Fujoshis weren't transphobic towards trans people (especially trans men, who they claim get hurt if you say something against rotten girls.) Like... Stop pretending your brain dead ass could accept a guy who is pre T.

We don't need the fetishization of mlm people to figure out who we are. 💀 There's a difference between simply liking mlm mangas, and thinking it's sinful when two men make out and having to make it your entire personality!

-sincerely, a trans guy.

If you consume fanfic on ao3 and are 18+ and American I need you to lock in and call your senators saying you oppose a federal porn ban. This would effectively ban ao3 and being queer in public, among many other things, due to the intentionally vague language of the bill. I’m counting on queer tumblr and fandom tumblr to help me get the word out that you have to call your senators

I am personally annoyed at the fans who take Garretts words as gospel...

Like sure it's fun to have him "confirm" characters as queer,but his word isn't god's, he's just one of the many people who worked on the project, albeit more popular.

G1 as we know it is dead,why can't we focus on the actual cannon representation we have in g3? Like,the infighting is so fucking nasty and for what? So you could be a little louder about your own headcannon and gatekeep and harass those who don't fit it?

Ugh the fandom is annoying sometimes istg

Burning from the Inside

Yan! Batfamily x neglected! male! meta! Reader

Prologue: House Fire

Summary: A look back in your memories of a simpler time, and how it stopped being so simple. Word Count: 1463 Reading Time: 6:09 (mins:secs) Notes: I've wanted to write a batfam fic for a while but couldn't think of an interesting spin for the reader, that is until I read a oneshot about an Ice! meta reader that I can't seem to find again (😞) and my third eye opened. This reader is low-key inspired by an oc of mine, who I actually have a pinterest board for, but I've done my best to keep y/n fairly blank for people to project onto. It may or may not come up later in the story (haven't decided) but I'm imagining y/n as a trans man and as an unreliable narrator with memory issues so. First chapter is queued to go up in a week! Warnings: written in first person, anger issues (on reader's side), descriptions of a parent dying, lots of mentions of fire, reader being tossed around in the foster system. Please comment if you think I've missed a warning!

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Rage burned under your skin constantly. When you were young, still kind and innocent, it was easier to control, it didn’t burn quite as hot. You still had a temper- your mother would end up dragging you home from school after many arguments on the playground getting too loud, but it never felt so much like drowning before. 

You were never certain of where your rage came from until an event when you were seven. The memory, clear as glass, would replay every night for that week. Whilst playing  in the front yard, you had noticed a car pull up. It was shiny and silver, that you remembered. But the woman who exited the car was more blurred by time degrading the memory. She’d smiled at you as she walked up to the front door, knocking politely without acknowledging you any more. She’d excitedly talked to your mother, giving your mom a piece of paper before your mother blew up. You’d never seen her so angry before. She’d screamed at the woman, scaring her into running back to her shiny car. 

The woman had driven off in a frenzy, the wheels kicking up dead leaves which showered over you in a confetti spray of autumn colors. Your mom had walked over and scooped you into a tight hug before pulling you inside. You didn’t play outside alone much after that. Your childhood had been normal beyond the odd moments like that.

You used to get ice cream with your mom after a particularly hard day at school, walking in the park as you shared a styrofoam bowl of slowly melting ice cream with her. You held onto that memory with an iron grip. She’d also take you to various garage sales and thrift stores, allowing you to buy the occasional toy or plushie every once in a while. It was only when you were older that you realized how tight of a budget you two had been on. You don’t worry about money much anymore. Maybe to someone who’d grown up richer your childhood sounded awful, but to you it was the golden years of your life. You’d never realized how much you valued your life in your small city with your mom, living in your tiny house at the edge of the city limits, until it was suddenly ripped away.

You’d been sitting in class, scribbling away at the margins of your notebook as the teacher droned on and on. Math was your least favorite subject since the teacher had the most monotonous voice ever. You’d only glanced out the window for a moment, staring at the birds in the trees, when the teacher was interrupted by a knock at the door. You watched as your math teacher walked to the door and opened it for an officer. Something like this would usually become the talk of the lunch period, concerned hushed voices slowly graduating into whispery gossiping over the course of a meal. So you’d watched intently as the officer spoke in a low, almost inaudible, tone to the teacher, who turned and locked eyes with you specifically. Your heart began to race as your teacher gestured for you- not another student, not anyone else- to come over. Your heartbeat had pounded in your ears as you got up, already hearing the concerned “what’s going on”s and “is everything okay”s from your classmates. Your teacher had an expression on their face that you couldn’t quite grasp in the moment. Later on, however, you’d later categorize it as something between sorrow and despair. It wasn’t the last time you saw that expression that day.

The officer had gently guided you into the hall where an administrator was waiting. Your worry shapeshifted into nervousness. You couldn’t remember doing anything horrible that’d warrant a police officer being there. Nervous that you’d be expelled over something you couldn’t remember, you began rambling apologies to the administrator, grasping at every single wrong thing you could remember doing. The man had just smiled and looked down at you with something akin to pity- the memory of that pitying expression made your skin crawl- and stopped your rambling with a single gesture. Then, the cop spoke. And the world you’d known shattered into bits.

The words came in bits and pieces as your brain struggled to adjust to this new reality you’d been thrown into. 

Your mother. House fire. The cop was sorry.

That was the thing that always stuck out to you. The apologies from people; as if they’d been the ones to start the fire. It still felt like molten sugar on a burn wound when people responded with “I’m so sorry for your loss”, even so many years later. It seemed like this one tragedy had suddenly changed everyone’s perception of you, reshaping you into the poor boy who was orphaned at the age of 11. 

That week (maybe it was a month, the specifics were hazy) turned into a blur as the world seemed to spin faster and faster around you. Suddenly, you were pulled from school and talking to social workers who had their own shiny cars, you were passed from adult to adult in a frantic bid for control over the situation your small city’s government found itself in. You remembered dizzy days in a guidance counselor’s office, then being rushed to a group home, then to a foster family, then another foster family further away, and again and again. Each time you were re-homed like a bad gift, you found yourself further and further from your little home town you’d loved. You don’t remember anything beyond the crushing weight of your mother being gone.

The only clear memory you have of that time was when a foster family took pity on you and drove you back home, to town. They brought you to the burnt-out remains of your old home. Neither member of the couple could hold you back when you ran towards the charred skeleton of the house. You remember crying and sobbing as hands pulled you away from the remains of the house, your own hands tightly grasping the one thing you’d managed to grab- a small book. You’d been shoved back into the car whilst hugging the book to your chest. Later, when you’d managed the courage to read that plain black book, you’d found that it was your mother’s journal. 

Maybe it was the fact that things had slowed to a more comprehensible speed, or maybe it was because you had something of your mother’s now, but you remembered more from this time period. In fact, you even remembered the foster family you’d been staying with when it happened. They were a sweet couple with a daughter not much younger than you. They’d given you your space, acting unsure and awkward whenever they interacted with you. They’d almost seemed relieved when the social worker came to retrieve you once again, as if having a grieving little boy in their house was equivalent to living with a nuclear bomb. The social worker didn’t need to prompt you at all to gather up your very few belongings and get in her car. You’d leaned your head against the window as she talked about your new home, barely paying attention. She’d talked about how “they” (you didn’t remember who “they” were. Maybe it was the police) had tried to find your father but had been unable, until he came forward himself. That deep anger flared up, flames licking at the bones of your rib cage as you kept it in. So he waltzes out of your life before you’re even born, ignores your existence for 11 whole years, and then struts back in as if nothing happened? The thought made you want to hit something. Someone. It made you want to hurt him. You’d clenched your fist and gritted your teeth as you tuned out the rest of the social worker’s speech.

Then, sooner than you’d wanted, you were in a hallway in one of the many community centers you’d been in, standing across from an elderly man wearing a suit. The fire that made you want to scream and bite and claw like a feral dog was quenched for a minute. Surely this couldn’t be your father, he was far too old. You couldn’t punch him- he’d fall over and die! You simply stood still as the man walked forward and gave a little bow. His voice was posh and his accent was clearly British, not unlike the period dramas your mom used to watch. 

“You, young man, must be (Y/N). Pleasure to meet you, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.”

He’d never know, but with that simple introduction, Alfred Pennyworth changed your world a second time.

This is a long as fuck post for me but… Fujoshi discourse is old kinda but Pinterest comments are rancid places and there are very recent comments either not understanding what’s so bad about fujoshis or straight up in support of fujoshis so like UH:

First of all reducing queer men as a whole down to something for cishet women to obsess over and get off to is disgusting. Full stop.

Fujoshis and their ilk essentially see MLM relationships as inherently more sexual than others. A piece of media that depicts a relationship between two men or two boys with absolutely no mention of anything sexual will still be seen as sexual in nature by fujoshis simply because it was about two dudes, which feeds in to the harmful idea that queerness is inherently sexual and therefore inappropriate. Think about how, after Luca (2021) came out and everyone was talking about how obviously queer it was, there was a pushback about how headcanoning these two boys as queer at all was automatically dirty or wrong or even pedophilic because to those people being gay = having gay sex or whatever. A straight relationship wouldn’t be treated this way, because there is an understanding that being straight does not automatically equal having sex, but that same understanding is not applied to queerness.

A lot of fujoshis are drawn to MLM media or relationships because they see is as like “sinful” or scandalous, which makes it more enticing to them. I should not have to explain to you in any way how seeing gay people as sinful or wrong is homophobic.

In addition, a lot of the media fujoshis are drawn to is not just depicting MLM relationships, but depicting incredibly unhealthy or abusive MLM relationships. Fujoshis tend to like shit like CMBYN and fucking Killing Stalking, two disgusting pieces of media that I really don’t want to think about right now but depict decidedly unhealthy or straight up abusive relationships but are romanticized by fujoshis and fujoshi-type creeps. Which then feeds into the idea that queer relationships, especially MLM relationships, are abusive whether it’s emotional, physical, or sexual. CMBYN in particular also feeds into the idea that queer people are sexual predators that prey on children or teens. Both of these ideas are absolutely disgusting and deeply homophobic and fujoshis often reinforce them.

Moving on, in media where the MLM pairing isn’t actually canon, fujoshis are absolutely awful to the female characters and, if the media is a television show or movie, the real life women who play those characters. A lot of times they see an MLM ship, any MLM ship, as automatically more progressive and meaningful and good solely by being queer. Sorry for bringing up BBC Sherlock in current year, but think aggressive Johnlock shippers from the BBC Shitlock era of tumblr hating on the character of Mary Morstan before she was even introduced because she would “get in the way” of their precious queerbait ship or sending hate to Lucy Liu, an actress on a different (and better) fucking show purely for playing a woman on a Sherlock Holmes show. They acted like, because the version of Watson that Lucy Liu played was a woman, a hypothetical romance between her and Holmes wouldn’t be as meaningful or progressive because it wouldn’t be gay, despite the fact that positive representation of interracial relationships is just as meaningful as a queer relationship, even if they’re straight. The hatred sent toward Lucy Liu specifically often also descended into blatant racism. 

ALSO those same cis and often het women who fetishize and obsess over MLM ships and media are often really lesbophobic! In the average fujoshi’s mind, queer men = sexy and enticing, while queer women = unsexy and often straight up gross. The cishet woman/girl who obsesses over her precious gay ships is likely the same cishet woman/girl who is “uncomfortable” around sapphic women/girls because they- gasp!- might hit on them! The same cishet woman/girl who thinks it’s so important to read MLM fiction refuses to show that same support for sapphic fiction. To them, MLM romance is “cute”, “sweet”, “charming”, and “enticing” while sapphic romance is at best “boring” and at worst “gross”. To bring up the whole BBC Shitlock VS Elementary ordeal, how many of those Johnlock shippers who hated Elementary because it wasn’t a blatant queerbait gay would have been as supportive of a Sherlock Holmes retelling where both Watson and Holmes were women? Of a hypothetical retelling that had actual canon queer rep that was between two women instead of two men? Much to think about.

Also you will rarely ever see a fujoshi showing actual support for actual queer people. They don’t care about the real people they’re fetishizing. A fujoshi doesn’t care about queer people of all kinds that are facing bigotry and violence, a fujoshi doesn’t care about actually learning about real queer people and queer history, a fujoshi doesn’t care about supporting queer people, they only care about the fictional queer men that they use as their porn.

Anyway that’s all I can think of right now but I’m sure there are more reasons that fujoshis are the scum of the earth. Peace and love <3.

What a beautiful woman she is

This glamorous lady is Norma (where are my Sunset Boulevard fans?)✨

The world stands with Ukraine

Tbilisi, Georgia

St. Petersburg, Russia

London, England

Paris, France

Thessaloniki, Greece

Rome, Italy

Berlin, Germany

Tokyo, Japan

Montenegro

Mumbai, India

I've had this idea for a post-endgame au where, instead of living with Peggy and abandoning both Bucky and Sam, Steve goes back in time, has a long talk with her where she allows him to open up about everything emotionally and then convinces him that him living out the life he does have in the future is worth it, and that she's happy. This causes Steve to still quit being captain america and still give the shield to Sam, but now he fakes his death to get completely out of the radar of whatever HYDRA agents are left, plus the government, and operate as the new director Fury-type figure for the new age of avengers.

Since the Sam!CA suit has primarily white as the base color, I decided to keep the blue for Steve. It's meant to look like he took the suit he wore in IW (the Nomad suit) and stripped the armor, the stars and stripes, and adopted golden yellow as an accent color. I tried to make a lot of tie-ins to other characters who would definitely be important to Steve (like the stars on his collar representing people he's lost, almost like he's carrying them with him.) since he seems like the type of person to do that, especially now that he's no longer being the representative of patriotism and isn't isolated solely to the classic costume due to other people deciding what he's be wearing.

The gloves are both a reference to the original "The Captain" suit

And a reference to the HYDRA Arm Bucky used in Winter Soldier and Civil War, with the dark red star only on one had while the other glove only has an embossed star in the leather.

The pattern on the back is low-key a nod to Steve "turning his back" on the old ideals of Captain America, since he's been burned by the US government enough to fully distrust them and believe their way of working is wrong (sokovia accords, anyone?), but its also a nod to Sam "having his back" (I love puns in character design)

The thigh holster was purely fanservice (for me, i am my biggest fan, that's why i highlighted his chest with the faux-corset design and highlighted his massive cake) and in-universe i think Bucky would've fought for that to be a part of Steve's costume.

I'll probably do more with this au in the future but i'm a little tied-up with doing sound mixing for Newsies JR right now and also balancing writing my own batfam x reader for the first time.

no because the way he’s holding her so gently like he’s worried he might hurt her (because he saw what her body went through when sekhmet was in control) (possibly even afraid to let himself be selfish?) compared to the way Annette pulls him in so tight like she doesn’t want to ever let him go, possibly because she’s sick of losing the people she loves and the trip to the spirit world made her remember just how precious life is for them. Their stories are paralleled in the way they hold each other.. I hate this show.

The way they hold each other is everything 😍