Uminous - .....

I love people who are obviously trans

I love transmen with boobs, I love transwomen with a 5 o'clock shadow, I love genderqueer butches taking T to look more masculine, I love bitches who can't keep up with their appearance and "don't pass", I love you all and you're my brothers and sisters and I get excited to see you being yourself

We need a new term for Stockholm Syndrome because as a concept, in fictional stories especially, it is GREAT.

You get kidnapped/taken hostage and obviously at the start youre scared/angry/etc but then you slowly get to know your keeper over the course of your imprisonment and you start falling in love with them in spite of everything????? A+ concept.

But!!!!! The dude who coined Stockholm Syndrome did it to discredit the testimony of a hostage who was pissed at police for being reckless with her life. The hostage was like "the police nearly fucking killed me. The dudes who took me prisoner weren't as cavalier with my life as the damn cops were!!! Does that say something or what!!!" And the cops were mad that their behaviour was called into question, so they had one of their guys claim that the traumatic experience had messed with her mind and caused her to develop affections for those who took her captive. No!! That's not what happened at all!! It's just that the cops sucked way worse than the captors did!!!!

So like, "Stockholm Syndrome" actually means "i am justifiably angry, because the people who were supposed to be rescuing me were less concerned with safeguarding my life than those who took me captive in the first place, and That's Fucked Up"

Therefore, since Stockholm Sydrome is taken, we need a new term for "I got kidnapped and fell in love with my captor against my better judgement."

Any suggestions?

Important!

After Israeli social media shared these videos and they got viral, they tried claiming these men were hamas members, THEY ARE NOT. They're civilians who were displaced with their families in shelters before Israeli soldiers abducted them.

Families are recognizing their brothers/fathers/grandfathers and sons by the videos shared here. They already executed a number of them.

As a Palestinian, this is the most painful, horrifying thing I had to witness. 63 days of bombing, killing a huge number of these men's families, you also abduct them and humiliate them while filming??? How can they take pride in this. This is genocide, this is holocaust 2.0 and I hope it hunts everyone who can put an effort to stop it but didn't.

All knowing love

pairing; V x Trans Man! Reader

summary; being under V's loving and watchful eye.

requested; Anonymous

rating; T

warnings; transphobia, parental abuse (physical), hints of suicide (but never outright said)

word count; 2185

A/N; this isn't wasn't the fluffiest thing I could write but once talking to my trans boyfriend I couldn't help but feel having a bit of angst was acceptable.

When Y/N was still just a child, he knew something was off about him. Not something "bad" or "wrong" that people would call this feeling when he'd tell them. "It's just a phase" was a comment that was thrown at them mostly by their parents when they were still in their teens, just before high Chancellor Sutler was ever in the eye of politics. Oh, how those days would seem like a humid southern summer walk compared to when Sutler came into the picture. The transphobia he had experienced grew like how weeds grow in futile soil.

The comments like "You're confused" slowly started to warp into something more demeaning to the boy as the Chancellor candidate's toxic grip on the people of England started to squeeze any "unwanted" life out of it. "Undesirable" life as he would call it. When hair was cut after Sutler was elected, there weren't small arguments anymore that would be fixed when he'd be asked if he were hungry and wanted to eat supper with them. It became violent and unlike the people who had raised him for the last 15 years. Having handfuls of freshly cut hair be ripped out because his mother was holding him by his scalp just to yell in his face how much of a monster he was broke his heart.

Was it fear that caused this? Were they scared of losing their only child as many other families had? Was their bundle of joy in their life really an undesirable and the cause of this virus outbreak? Just why? He'd ask himself that as he was packing his bags in preparation to leave the family home for good.

Three long years had passed and at the ripe age of 18, he moved out into the busy streets of London. A small pit in his stomach began to form as the sickening feeling came back. The cause of it was from one simple but yet complex question; could he survive in this fascist regime? Sadness also fueled this emotional fire, sadness from knowing he'd have to use so many things he knew was wrong and didn't describe him truthfully just so he could get a place to come to when curfew hit; The name that was long dead to him the second it was given to him and female pronouns. He'd be signing his own death certificate if he put Y/N instead of his deadname on his application to rent.

They'd look it up and find no Y/N L/N in England and call the police on him in a split second. Shivers ran down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him if that became a reality. No one knew what happened when you were deemed "undesired" but everyone after having Sulter for three years knew that they would go missing and would be never seen of or heard from again. You were just wiped off the face of the Earth.

Y/N lucky had enough money saved from working in retail for the past 2 years to get a small apartment. When he was finally given the keys to the place he couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least in this tiny space, he could be his true self without shaking in fear as he had in his past while being stuck in his parents' home. The next three years were some of the worse when it came to dysphoria. Being forced to go to work almost every day and be called ma'am or miss and be deadnamed constantly damaged his mental health to the point it felt easier just to be open with his identity.

Anything would be better than being forced to hide in this shell of terror. Nights of panic attacks and sobbing that sounded like a wounded animal as he laid on the rotten wooden floor became a routine. On the morning of his 21st birthday, he woke up in the late afternoon. There was no panic in him when he realized he was late for work, how could someone care when this would be their last day on Earth?

With scissors in his hand, he grabbed his hair and began to chop it off sloppily but that didn't matter to him as long as it was finally short like it was when he was a child, and that was enough for him. The thought that when the police would see him, that'd see a man instead of what society had deemed him brought a smile to the young adult. The feeling of freedom pumped through his veins as he went on with his day. It felt odd but refreshing to feel the cold air from his AC on his neck as he fixed himself some bacon and eggs. It wasn't the fanciest thing someone could eat on this day, but it was enough for him.

Around ten AM he left his flat, walking with newfound confidence due to his hair and now his wrapped chest. He had heard from the grapevine that wrapping one's chest in medical bandages could cause serious damage like nerve loss but one this final day he decided to risk it so he could pass in normal daily life. Being called sir by ticket seller at the movies brought him so much joy as he grabbed his "Count of Monte Cristo" tickets and wished them a good day as he went deeper into the movie theater to find theater four to watch the movie. Y/N was somewhat surprised to see only one other person in the audience. Sure, he was 10 minutes late but this was a classic film that was finally being let out of the vault to be watched again! Nevertheless, the man sat down a few rows in front of the figure, settling down into the uncomfortable chair.

“I didn't expect you to come.”

He could tell from how the figure's words were muffled that they were wearing a mask. Y/N turned to them with a confused look on their face.

“Excused me?” Y/N asked but their confusion just deepened as he saw that the figure was wearing.

A Guy Fawkes mask with a matching hat while wearing pitch-black clothing. The man under the mask chuckled as they stood up, Y/N couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the height of this masked figure.

“I should have done this first so you wouldn't be so perplexed, ” he cleared his throat as began monologing, using many words that start with the letter V in his speech which in turn slightly impressed the 21-year-old.

“But you can simply call me V.”

"V" said while taking a bow

Y/N couldn't help but snicker at this display of some kind of knightship which in turn had V cocked his head in slight confusion on what could be so funny

“Well, Mr. V, might I ask why you're here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but as I am apparently on a tight schedule I won't elaborate”

“Tight sch-” the man interrupted them by placing his leather glove covered finger on top of their lips

“Yes, very much tight schedule as I only have 2 hours till your self made demise am I correct?”

He was blown away at the fact this random stranger knew of his most shameful plan, but the feeling of shock was soon replaced with anger. This creep was stalking me! He thought as he slapped away the masked man, getting up from his chair as he did so.

“You have some right talking to me like that!” he yelled as he started to march away from them.

V reached out and grabbed their hair in a somewhat gentle way

“Y/N wait please, ” he sighed as Y/N stopped who's face was twisted in bitterness “I understand how you feel Y/N, I truly do. I was labeled an undesirable so please don't think that I've been keeping an eye on you in for any other reason than just to keep you safe.”

When he said this Y/N rage seemed to melt away slowly. How was he able to survive being an undesirable? So many questions filled the male's head but the only word he could speak was

“How?”

V let go of his hair as he straightened his posture “If you come with me I'll tell you.”

The more sensible side of the man told him to run away from this masked freak and enjoy what little time you had left in peace but something stopped him. After a moment of silence, he nodded to V's pleasure. He took the 21-year old by the hand and lead them to the back exit. The two walked down the alley and what drew Y/N's eye other than the 6'3 black mass was the posters. Every single one they pasted seemed to have a V cut into them.

He broke the long silence with another question “Did you mark those posters?”

“Does a raven speak?”

“But why?”

V didn't stop walking but he could feel his eyes on him. For being an undesirable he sure seems fine being out after curfew Y/N thought as they waited for the answer.

“The people deserve a symbol. Something to get them through this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but quickly shut it once the meanings of the words came to mind. Maybe he wasn't this creep, more like this country's guardian angel that would save them all from high Chancellor Sutler. It didn't take long for him to reach what Y/N guessed as V's home which turned out to be an abandoned Victoria station. Y/N looked over at him with an eyebrow raised as V opened the hatch that kept the station locked to the public who had originally thought it was abandoned. V turned back to the man and gave him his hand simply saying "follow me, sir Y/N".

Once V was given the curious man's hand he rubbed his thumb over their knuckles before tenderly pulling them inside. He held the hand as they walked in the pitch black, guiding them until they found a giant door which to Y/N's touch felt like it had complex carvings in them. When the masked man opened the door Y/N couldn't help but wince as golden light hit his E/C eyes that had just gotten used to the dark. He had expected V to let go of his hand once they reached his "lair" but he didn't. Oh, what a perplexing and mysterious man he was.

Y/N would be lying if he said his face wasn't blushing at this moment in time. V led them deeper into his beautiful home until both of them to were behind his couch which was black leather. In front of the said couch was a glass coffee table with a box on it. Y/N's hand was finally let go of as V sat on the couch.

“Come sit, I have something to give you.”

“But you said-”

“Please?”

He sighed as he complied, arms folded as he sat next to him. V opened the box and to Y/N's surprise, there was a biner in it. Once again, all he could ask was "How?" as all production and selling of items that could help trans folk was banned just as the Koran was. The masked man took the folded bundle into his giant hands and gave it to them once again shocked male.

“Life has been tough enough on you even if we don't add our government into it. Thank you for holding on. For surviving this long and not letting them take away your love for life and your fighting spirit.”

Without any hesitation, Y/N pulled V into a tight embrace with tears threatening to fall. No one had ever put their life in danger to give them this piece of happiness like this stranger had. All he could do was whimper out a "thank you" as a sob shook his chest deeply.

“Since I showed you my lair, you're going to have to stay till the next November the fifth, is that okay?”

Y/N couldn't help but nod immediately. He could finally be somewhere he was truly accepted for who he really was; a man who was just simply given the wrong body at birth.

V placed his hands on top of the weeping H/C man, stroking the uneven hair and placed his head onto the others.

“I'm cooking ham, is that okay?”

“mmhmm..”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

I hate to be that guy, but I've been noticing a majority of ghost x reader fics are written for female readers but aren't tagged according. I don't want to come across like I'm telling writers what to do, it's their work to do with as they please and I respect that. I just want to express how important it is to let people know what they're getting into beforehand. Especially for those who aren't women, and for people like me that are trans masc. Getting smacked with surprise dysphoria doesn't feel great but that's just my two cents. Please continue to write amazing ghost fics, I'm cheering you on!

Is there anything I can do to help Palestinians besides call my representatives and beg them to stop killing people?

This is a great question. There are a few things you can do—just off the top of my head:

BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) https://bdsmovement.net/

Direct Action https://www.palestineaction.org/

Urge your University/School/Organization to put out a statement denouncing Israel

Organize a Protest/Participate in a local one

You might already be doing this but while calling your reps, tell them that as a voter, you're unwilling to support them in the upcoming election unless they urge the White House to take a stand against Israel and stop funding them

Share art/writing/films around Palestinian culture

If you're part of a union, ask them what they're doing to urge their industry leaders to take a stand against Israel + pressure the White House OR urge them to start a strike/walkout/etc if they're not doing anything already

Talk with your friends IRL about Palestine, whether in an activist capacity or watching a movie or literally anything

Reach out to a mosque to see if you can help them with anything

See if your city/state council has put out a statement in support of Gazans. If not, try to push them to do so.

Donate to Palestine Legal or Direct Action if you have some money to spare

KEEP TALKING ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know some of these don't feel like they have as big of an impact on helping Palestinians, but we do need to make an effort not to forget their humanity in the face of continued erasure and the media's sensationalist rhetoric.

Talking on social media and posting—while not seeming like a lot—does SO much. I know in USAmerica, it's like yelling into a void, but political analysts are saying that most of the "Global South" has completely lost any amount of goodwill it may have had the past few years. Hopefully, countries will start to put sanctions and embargoes en masse on the US and Israel soon.

Our goals here are BOTH short-term and long-term. We hope for the life and liberation of the Palestinian people, so anything that you can think of might help at some point in the future is encouraged to at least try.

If anyone else has any more ideas, feel free to reblog and add on. Thank you for asking, and here is to a liberated Palestine where Palestinians can live and thrive without fear.

every single queer term relating to gender is turned into some binary bullshit and i'm tired. like why do you all hate people who don't fit the binary so much.

when transsexual was the term for trans men and trans women, transgender was coined mainly and mostly to describe people outside the binary.

then the aptobinaries decided they didn't like transsexual anymore and took over transgender. which, at this point, is almost as binary as transsexual used to be.

nonbinary people are constantly divided into transmascs and transfems, into amabs and afabs, into boy nonbinaries and girl nonbinaries.

genderqueerness suddenly needs to include aptobinaries despite it being an old term synonymous with nonbinary. genderqueerness suddenly needs to include aptobinaries in order to not alienate them, but instead alienate those the term was created by and for. despite "gender nonconforming" being right there.

just say you hate us and go. just say you want to centre the gender binary and aptobinary people in everything that was created by and for those of us outside of the binary. you all took over transgender, then nonbinary, then genderqueer, the last identity i have left and all because you think that "everyone is a little bit genderqueer" in the same way ableists say that "everyone is a little bit autistic", because you think "your gender doesn't need to be genderqueer to be genderqueer, you just need to dislike the gender binary", in the same way radfems say "you don't need to be attracted to women to be lesbian, it's enough to dislike men".

stop turning our identities into ideologies and stances. all of this was created by us out of marginalisation and taken over by those with aptobinary privilege over us.

genderqueer and gender nonconforming aren't the same thing. if you're always, fully and exclusively either male or female, this term was not made for you.

nothing has ever felt as much like home as a genderqueer identity and you all wanna centre the binary in it. stop.

𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝗦𝘂𝗻!𝗚𝗼𝗱𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘅 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘀!𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

To love a God, is to love your demise, knowing that every waking second you were getting closer and closer to your fated death. Loving a God is more akin to loving something you cannot see, that you cannot touch, or hear. Though you feel her hands trail down your sides, fingers blazing warm and ever so mild, you cannot hold them with your own. Your fingers cannot intertwin with hers, nor can you press a kiss on her lips, basking in her warmth.

Her love is that of a mystery, something you cannot comprehend, something you'll never reach in your lifetime. You can only dream as you stare lovingly into the sun, watching her rays shine down on the Earth. Her mere existence is so much more than yours, but you cannot stop yourself from falling into her grasp, letting her hands guide you her way.

The appearance of a God is far too much for a mortal to accept, to acknowledge, and to live with, so the most of Gods deemed a mortal form, using it as a disguise. Though you haven't met many Gods, you knew they could not compare. Her eyes were oh-so blue, pupils reflecting that of the clouds and birds that fly through the sky, swirlings of different hues as the day disappears. Her skin radiates warmth, so tan, and so smooth. There are no gashes or blemishes, utterly perfect and divine. And her hair is curly, reflecting that of rays, a loose pattern that flows down her back. The golden gleam of the curls is enough to make you want to reach out to hold, to touch, and to braid.

You want nothing more than to hold her, love her, and cherish her. Forehead pressed against the ground as you bow to her, feeling nothing but content in her presence. Let alone the fact that she's come to meet you, you, you.

Though you want to, you refuse to meet her gaze, waiting for her becking call, her soft words to urge you to look up. And you almost jump for joy at the sound, sighing at the brief melody and soft symphony that flows through your mind as she speaks.

Her lips look so soft, you noted, letting your eyes trail across her form. Utter devotion and dedication in your eyes as you slowly rise, per her command. Your tunic white and embellished with symbols of that of the Sun God, flowing down your body, mirroring the tunic she wore. You felt just a little closer to her, peering at the similarities of your clothing, a soft smile gracing your lips.

You call to her, eyes begging for any kind of command. You'd do anything for her, for her touch, and praise. Gulping as you take a step forward, feeling your knees quake and tremble, feeling the presence of a God. The gentle thumping against your ribcage has your head feeling fuzzy and cheeks flushing, growing warm at the closeness.

A sigh left your lips, the feeling of her warm palm pressed to your cheek, and you swear a tear rolled down your cheek as she pressed her lips against your forehead. Closing your eyes, you accepted her kindness with a smile, placing a hand on top of her, letting her soft hands caress your cheeks.

You knew your fate was sealed the moment you pressed your lips against hers, moving in a rhythm that only you and her could hear, relishing in each other's arms. Her hands caressed you as you cried, worshiping her body as if she were gold.

The thought of parting was a constant nightmare that nawed and chewed in the back of your mind, scratching your sides, and whispering in your ear. You knew your time was coming, far closer than before, but you knew that you'd die happy with her arms in yours.