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cashmoneyyysstuff · 12 days

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edit cus tumblr tweaked out n posted the unfinished draft smh.

sitting in the bus with your fifteen minute now ex boyfriend was not something you expected to happen when you’d gotten ready for your date this morning.

you’re sitting as far away from his as possible, or at least as far as he’ll let you go. because of course shouto todoroki just couldn’t let you have one moment without flashing you his sweet little puppy eyes and kissable little pouted lips, three seats away from you.

your face is practically smushed against the window, intently keeping your eyes fixed on the green grass turning dark with rain while you try to keep your eyes dry. you wonder if it’s your fault, if you did something.

more people start coming in, trying to find shelter from the rain. the more people come in the louder it gets, they’re so loud, he’s so loud. he isn’t doing anything but staring at you, but it’s so intense it almost sounds loud. you feel it in the beat of your ears and the beat of your heart, you focus on the rain droplets bouncing off the pavement outside to desperately keep from crying.

you know shouto doesn’t have to take the bus, his dad could probably get someone to pick him up, he’d only made it a habit of taking the bus with you so you could spend more time together. you think maybe he shouldn’t have, it’s his fault, he spent more time with you then he should’ve and somehow that brought him to sit you down on a random park bench, grip on your hand still firm as he told you he thinks it’d be better if you didn’t see each other anymore.

as if you could just stop seeing him, fucking idiot. you’re in the same class, have the same friends, you see him in your favorite manga and the website you read your early leaks on that you shared with him, you see him in your notes because he’d write them down for you when you were sick to bring them to your dorm, you see him in your favorite snacks because you make it a habit of having him guess the flavor of the skittles you’re sharing.

seriously, what a moron. who does he think he is, the love of your life ?!

well, you sure thought he was.

you can’t bear it anymore, this feels like actual torture and you could honestly give less of a shit about how dramatic you sounded. this is unbearable, it’s suffocating feeling those deep colored eyes constantly on you, reaching out and begging and pleading for something you cannot and will not give more of to him.

this isn’t your stop, but it’s close. you can walk the rest of the way. screw the rain and screw him.

you quietly apologize to the people you’re pushing past, though they can barely hear you as you try to keep your wobbly voice even. when you pass by a group of people the start hissing and murmuring behind you and you think you weren’t being loud enough until you realize that of course he’d followed you off as soon as you got off. ever uncaring of the people around him except you know that’s not true. you know shouto cares, he’s kind, but you thought he cared about you and he apparently didn’t, so you trudge forwards with teeth clenched and hands tightened into fists. to desperately keep from crying.

why does he care so much, why did he follow you in the bus and now out of it ? couldn’t he just let you be alone ?? he’s the one who broke it off.

but you’re sure you’re the one who did something, how could he have ? your shouto’s perfect, the sweetest boy in the whole word. teeth clenched tighter and tighter, to keep from crying.

he calls for you, and then again louder over the rain, he won’t let you drown him out. of course he won’t. not when he calls for you again, a cool hand wrapping around your wrist this time. you want to melt despite the chill, but instead you boil ripping your hand out of his grip.

“just go home ! why’d you follow me out here ?!” his eyes are wide and so sad, you’d never raised your voice at him before even during your rare arguments.

“this isn’t your stop..” he tries to reason, voice quietly drifting through the air, the rain hits the pavement and his hair is getting wetter. he’s so handsome, he always is. you want to kiss him and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah, i noticed that too. did that on purpose if you couldn’t tell, which you obviously didn’t.” you’re being mean, you’re spitting everything at him to get him to just fuck off. but of course he won’t, because your shouto is kind. and he reaches out for you again only for you to back away from him.

“i’m sorry.”

“just leave me alone ! why can’t you just leave me alone ?!” you ask him and yourself and anyone who’s listening. you sob when he slowly, ever so softly wraps his arms around you and you push at him and push and push and push him away but he never backs off, he never leaves you alone. not when he’s everywhere. with the smell of his cologne and the softness of his lips on your forehead and the softness of his clothes as he pleads, he’s so sorry he says. but you don’t know why. he’s the one who broke it off right ?

“is it me ?” you whimper, he immediately shushes you but you continue “was it something i did ?”

“no, no it’s not you—it could never be you, love.” his voice is even, or it’s trying to be, you can tell he’s having a hard time with how tightly he’s holding onto you. like you won’t hear him out if he doesn’t keep you close, it’s funny because you’d hear him out even if he was trying to convince you the earth was shaped like a rectangle, hilarious even.

your heart bleeds for him, despite it being his fault your heart is hurting in the first place.

"it's just…better that way" is what he'd managed to spit out. "but listen—look at me." he grabs your cheeks, pulling your face up to look into his unwavering pretty bicolored eyes. he presses the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your lips, you don't think anyone would love you enough to kiss you like this ever again, and the tears keep flowing because you don't think you'd want to be loved like this by anyone other than him. and it makes you press back against him when he kisses you again, and again

" i love you, i do. and it's not you." he reaffirms again, because he knows you're thinking about it

"it isn't you. i love you, angel." he babbles over and over against your lips. "you know i love you, yeah ?" and you want to say you don't, but the shine in his wet eyes tells you everything you already knew, and you kiss him again, and again. his hands, cooling and so invitingly warm still firm against your cheeks.

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imviotrash · 2 months

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I honestly think that Joanne had it the worst (psychologically) during the midnight tea party.

Imagine being bullied and isolated for a year, because someone fabricated an entire web of lies about you due to you getting a tiny bit of positive attention. The truth about the situation finally comes to light, you get your (very demanding) dream job, are well liked among your peers and are finally included within the schools society.

And then within one night you:

-discover your comfort teacher and your first friend are not real and are actually private investigators

-find out your boss who is supposed to be your role model and protector is a murderer

-realize that the principal has been on vacation for a year and was replaced by THE FUCKING GRIM REAPER

-learn that the vice principal is DEAD (and was subjected to human experimentation)

-learn that you're the second replacement for a guy who got brutally murdered and ALSO subjected to human experimentation (which you are witnessing right Infront of your eyes in real time)

-literally hear why and how these humans have been experimented on

-see how someone gets turned into dinner

-almost get turned into dinner yourself and can't escape on time because your body shut down out of shock.

-see how your "friend" is hunted for sport by the grim reaper.

-also see your "comfort teacher" crush someone's head right Infront of you.

-become unconscious out of shock.

-loose not only your boss, two friends (Soma and Ciel )and comfort teacher after this whole fiasco, but also your entire network of coworkers because they got a promotion you're too young to have.

-on top of that YOU CANNOT talk about what happened to you to anyone because you were sworn to secrecy and you can't really talk about it privately to your former colleagues either, since they're now a completely different rank than you.

Like- the guy didn't get physically injured, but he was the only real student to witness the entire Midnight tea party, because he couldn't escape on time. (And let's also not forget that he's the youngest of the real students present at the party and definitely the most sensitive one).

Since the Midnight tea party will happen again, Joanne and his former coworkers are probably forced to attend again since they can't really publicly share the reason as to why they don't want to go.

#when your comfort character didn't have a day of comfort in his life #i love how Joanne was supposed to be a oneshot character but the editors ended up liking him so much that he became a regular character #but instead of treating him like a normal character they just decide to make the worst things happen to him #He needs to be rescued from this manga #im looking WAAAAAY too deep into this but its been on my mind for a while #this is definitely me pretending that this character is of more relevance than he actually is #definitely very self indulgent post #but I honestly think he deserves more in depth writing!#especially since hes interested in philosophy and witnessed the extremes of his schools code of ethics #kuroshitsuji #black butler #kuroshitsuji season 4 #vio speaks #joanne harcourt #kuroshitsuji spoilers

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t4tcecilos · 3 months

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it is SO interesting to me that sweetheart and ms goldberg are both from marvin’s high school experience. and that trina is his wife. the women that haunt him as he tries to understand his feelings are from his time in HIGH SCHOOL (except for trina) and they’re all from failed romantic relationships. part of his misogyny comes from him only seeing women as romantic experiences, which is something he feels he’s missing. which just. makes me look at his friendships with cordelia and charlotte with a whole different view. because these are probably his first friendships ever with women where he’s not trying to hide his queerness. he’s not trying to fall in love with them, he’s genuinely friends with them

#marvin falsettos #in trousers #falsettos #idk if this is coherent but its been in my mind for a while #i rlly rlly love charlotte and cordelia sm theyre so. i need to think about them forever and ever #i think them in act 2 is sooo awesoeme . imiss them #posts

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beescake · 4 months

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EVIL FUCKED UP KARKAT..HEH...JUST A LOOK INTO MY SICK AND TWISTED MIND...

have u read

Thoroughbred - egomaniac - Homestuck [Archive of Our Own]

literally my #1 fave most beloved dvkt fic heheh thanks for the opening! ive been itching for the chance to recc it (even dvkt antis 🫵 ur gonna like this one kisskiss give it a chance)

#after my slkt ceo post thoroughbred author (@johnkat) came online & told me “tomkat”. neither of us anticipated this ask #which means THERE'S A PROSPECTIVE EDGEKAT AUDIENCE BEYOND OUR SUCCESSIONSTUCK DMS ?!#ask #anon #homestuck #davekat #johnkat #karkat vantas #dave strider #john egbert #2024 #vioart #fic rec tag #Thoroughbred by egomaniac (AO3)#this fic's been my baby since the day it dropped okk its so fgjhfjghjhgk... god.#be sure to check out all her fics!! its actually bcs of her that i upgraded from hs-lurker to hs-participator!!!#while writing this post i noticed she posted another one HAJHAA i shall read it once my mind is ready :))c <333

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lorephobic · 1 year

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have i talked before about how crazy it drives me that in old bdubs videos he would super abashedly talk about his love for making things pretty? because. it drives me crazy.

at the beginning of mc4 when everyone was clearing out spawn so it was a lifeless flat plot of land to build on and bdubs took it personally and added grass and foliage once everything was built to make the whole landscape more lively and cohesive. and how hed get made fun of for thinking about little shit like that.

also when he got asked what hed be doing if he wasnt doing mc and he mentioned music (i think) and basically was super embarrassed to be like “i know its not very manly, but im super into artsy fartsy stuff”. as if that is a bad thing.

anyway im getting so emo thinking about how in hermitcraft, everyone knows and admires bdubs skill as a builder and its not ever something thats made fun of anymore. thinking about how bdubs never talks down about his own abilities anymore and instead of feeling weird about being a dude whose into artsy fartsy stuff, hes really embraced his career as a creator of beautiful things.

#sorry this post is literally so self indulgent #last rb got to me okay #remembering when i first got into bdubs and id see him in other ppls content and was like ‘oh hes silly haha’#but i didnt actually start watching him until i saw his hc8 base and thought it was one of the coolest things id ever fucking seen in mc #i started watching his videos and the way he talked about block palettes and gradients #and the way hed try things i’d never think could work really blew me away #and hes always been like this #i remember even in hc4 with his modern house #the way he used snow to create a slope was like. mind blowing to me.#ten years after he first did it LOL #hes taught me so much about minecraft as an art medium its fucking crazy #anyway #its been a while since ive gushed about bdubs this feels really good actually #i love him :(#edit: i wasnt gonna say anything when this was a dumb little personal post but ppl are actually rbing it #so i will correct myself #in my tags when i said hc4 i meant mc4 #lol

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martyrbat · 2 months

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[ID: Bruce Wayne and Minhkhoa Khan breaking up in the rain. Bruce is in normal civilian clothes while Khoa has a white cloak on and a mask that hides his eyes. Khoa persuades, “We'll start in a small city in Southeast Asia, and systematically dismantle its criminal underworld. Out all the corrupt politicians. And then we'll go to the next, and the next. We'll build a high-tech base of operations that moves with us. We'll live well off the coffers of the gangs we dismantle. We'll expand from there. In time, maybe we could even tackle a city like Gotham. Not like boys, but like men at the peak of our skills.” Bruce simply tells him, “No.” Minhkhoa points an accusatory finger at him as his angry response has been edited to be a post by @/egirlbutternubs that reads, “But babe you love being gaslit.” END ID]

#everybody has their burdens. for example mine is constantly thinking about batman 105 and how it could have been soo good....#like this drives me INSANE.#hes trying to convince bruce to stay. to not leave him. he shouts he doesn't care about anyone or anything but is standing there #in the rain while bruce is about to literally board an airplane and hes trying so hard to convince him to change his mind #to not 'throw away' what hes been training to do. to not limit himself to just one city #like haha silly edit but the fact ghat khoa is putting his heart on his sleeve the most he ever will right here #to his one and only friend the only person who seems to understand him and then being told hes broken??#literally it's such a betrayal. its heartbreaking and infuriating. its insulting.#i have a big and better post about this in my drafts somewhere......#in the meantime i love toxic yaoi & im plagued by the idea of khoas potential in a good writers hands and how itll most likely never happen #c: batman | i: 105 #crypt's panels #batman #posts from the crypt #minhkhoa khan #ghostbat

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jawz · 5 months

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i’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way my ethnicity affected the way i was gendered as a child, my drive to transition, and even my detransition…

as a hispanic growing up with my white mom and white stepdad and white brother and white extended family in scandinavian hell (minnesota), i always felt different, always felt wrong. (my parents divorced as a baby, and my dad and his family, cuban and italian, all live in florida.) my neighborhood wasn’t so bad; it was way more diverse than the metro area itself. growing up i had mixed friends, i had friends with curly hair… but us trailer park kids were only a fraction of the population of our schools and district. a sea of blonde hair. there were times in elementary school i would literally pray to god to make my hair straight, make my eyes blue. grown-ups touched my hair and always asked “is it naturally curly?”. my classmates urged me to straighten it and by age 13 it was part of my ridiculously time-consuming “feminizing” beauty rituals.

much earlier, by the age of 8 or 9, i already had thick, dark hair growing on my legs. other kids, boys and girls alike, called me “gorilla girl”, faked gagging when i wore shorts, insisted i was actually a boy. that one became more and more common as i came into my personality: bold, class clown, competitive with the boys. (always wanting to charm the girls, but i didn’t recognize that back then.)

my mustache was there by 8, as well. just a little peach fuzz above my lip but dark enough to notice. are you even a girl? my mom would spread wax over her own face and soon began waxing my stache as well. it hurt so badly. i put up with it because she said it would make the kids stop teasing me. of course i was a girl- she was a woman and she had peach fuzz too!… but i felt self-conscious at the fact that my body hair was so much more noticeable, even as a child. my mother’s hair is very thin, straight, lighter brown; her complexion is warmer than mine, pink where mine is olive, green and yellow. i worried you could see the strands about to burst through. i was worried that to be a girl- a woman- i must hide parts of myself every day. i must cover the shoots of grass, the weeds that reveal that i’m not fit for society, that whisper i’m wild and untamed.

it wasn’t actually until i was 18 at least that i actually started to consider myself latino. i had sometimes said ‘hispanic’ growing up, as that’s what my family in florida called themselves; they referred to themselves as “spanish”, which i found out was not quite true after compiling my family tree and discovering that those ancestors emigrated from havana. in their minds they were white: “descended from spanish royalty” (as if!!)… i had spent my youth constantly trying to claim solely whiteness, confused as to why everyone was asking me “are you mexican?” “are you jewish?” “are you middle eastern?” - even though inside i think i knew. i knew my family didn’t look like me. i resented my surname being changed to Lind when i was five, my stepdad’s name, in order to give me the same name as the rest of them. despite my apparent envy of swedes and norwegians i knew it wasn’t my name; i still stood out terribly. i glared at myself in the mirror every day, i never could move past how the kids at school said my eyes were the color of shit, that my hair looked like pubes, that i must have had a sex change without being told because that would explain the mustache, the aggression…

by the time i was fourteen i was entirely primed to accept an alternative explanation to what was “wrong” with me. my sexuality was becoming more and more apparent but before i could ever come out as lesbian or even bi, i had discovered what it meant to be trans. i was so immediately certain that this was the key, THIS was why everyone said i didn’t fit in, THIS was why my behavior wasn’t girly, THIS was why i wanted to date girls. it was 2011, still deep in the “brain sex” era of the trans community, and i was sure without a shadow of a doubt that i was physically female, mentally male. all that needed to be done was to “correct” my body and bring it in line with my brain. despite the fact that very few people knew what transition actually was back then, i genuinely assumed it would make sense to everyone else, too: they had told me i wasn’t ‘really’ a girl so many times i had no trouble believing it.

transition, of course, did not suddenly de-latinize me LOL. first i became a total Other, outside of both the minnesotan ethnic norms and the gender+sex norms; eventually, with hormones and surgery at a very young age, i was able to pass as a boy, but by the time i could grow actual full-on facial hair, i realized i was still the pan-latin american enigma to people around me. multiple times someone would call me “sanchez” as some sort of attempted insult or joke. police looked at me differently than they had before. shop owners followed me, accused me of shoplifting. and sometimes, the white girls i dated told me that i was way cooler than all the boring white boys they knew. one girl even called me “exotic” to my face. it was, apparently, a compliment.

when i was 21 i heard that my girlfriend had referred to me to others as “a POC who identifies as white”. it felt as though she didn’t even know me at all. i’d never claimed either of those things to her.

moving to the west coast (socal specifically, where being latino/a is not considered ‘abnormal’) illuminated a lot of the bizarre and unnatural racial expectations of my midwest upbringing; i think by this point i was beginning to realize what so many things from my childhood had meant. that they weren’t really saying i was a boy. they were saying we don’t like girls who look like you, and we’d rather not have you included in our category.

it took me another three years to fully reckon with this. by the time i decided to detransition i had a much better understanding of the circumstances of my life; conversations with close friends who are also latina and have walked similar paths to me, heard similar insults, similar “compliments”, opened my eyes to the fact that i was not alone. i no longer feel weird for thinking the race/ethnicity boxes on government forms are hopelessly reductive. i know who i am and who i am not.

(around this time, i happened upon some old pictures of my dad’s side of the family. beautiful and glamorous women: adela, my uncle’s mother, the piano player; melanie, my aunt, the wife, hostess, and addict; lauren and andrea, my cousins, the restauranteurs; stella, my dad’s mamma, the widow and matriarch. and on all their faces, thick dark eyebrows, and, yes, that ever-familiar peach fuzz. i swear it healed something in my soul. despite my lack of beauty and glamor, we are not so different after all.)

that’s not to say all things are easy now. i’ve spent three years living as a GNC woman and if that wasn’t enough to confirm most all of my hypotheses on people’s perceptions of me, i don’t know what is.

detrans spaces (like most trans spaces) are overwhelmingly white- or at least that’s who dominates conversation. i see SO much downplaying of the things that naturally hairy women go through societally. i see trans allies who purport to be “okay” with detransitioners, saying “what’s the big deal? if you took testosterone you can just go off it and get laser hair removal!! :)” as if laser isn’t expensive as hell, painful as hell, and also WAY more of a process for a woman with dark curly hair than it is for one with straight blonde hair lmfao!!! i see detrans women obsessed with removing all traces of hair from their bodies (even though most of them clearly don’t have a neverending five o’clock shadow like some of us do! my lower face has a constant blue-green disturbance under the surface which makes female spaces incredibly daunting) and insulting the rest of us for being ugly and hairy and making no effort to look like women or what the fuck ever. basically, a lot of people who claim to support us are just racists and essentialists and believe that sex is visual and not biological…🤨

anyway… i guess my main takeaways from all this are:

1. please stop acting like detransition is an entirely internal process and that it’s easy for all of us to be seen as our sex again (some of us like. actually transitioned and passed as the opposite sex), or that potential physical interventions aren’t incredibly invasive and difficult

2. stop assuming all transition and detransition journeys follow your own experience of lifelong whiteness and hairlessness

3. it is a distinct experience to be regularly de-gendered or denied your sex, PRIOR to ever thinking of yourself as literally trans. many trans/detrans people had this happen to us (we were once the vast majority of trans people). but many did not, and generally shock others when they begun breaking gender norms. i really think people from the second group often have trouble understanding that for the first group, changing gender expression is basically a bandaid over an abscess… we have lived entire lifetimes being denied our sex, being told our bodies are not “truly” ours, that there is someone else inside trying to break out. kicked out of the bathroom, the changing room, alienated from single-sex peer groups. transition just flips this experience and instead separates us from our preferred gender group, reinforcing the feeling that we have no place, anywhere.

race/ethnicity, being homosexual or bisexual, mental illness stigma, disability, and low economic class all play an additional role in this. stop perpetuating this and denying us our biological sex.

#this is a toooootal rant lmao sorry but its been on my mind for a while.#kind of a culmination of two posts ive been wanting to make #detrans #detransition #ok to reblog

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