a coma might feel better than this

anonymous asked:

So you got your ass kicked and now we have to pay for it just because you can't handle your male aggression? That seems fair.

huh, so first off you’re just the fucking worst type of person. i got beaten into a fucking coma and had half my ribs kicked in for having the audacity to be outside with pink hair and an alternative sexuality. i’m not entitled to anyone’s money, but although this concept might confuse you bruh other people have empathy and a soul and don’t see altruism as a deadly sin. i’m not even gonna get into the terfy bullshit there at the end because c'mon, you can do better than that. my dysphoria gives me a hundred more relevant things to feel insecure about before breakfast. some fuckin rando saying i’m a guy stopped having much any effect after getting my skull cracked open by a transphobe who was much much braver than you and was able to do quite a bit more than huff and puff at some tranny’s tumblr, twiddling your piggy li'l thumbs at the idea of triggering me. happy new year, you complete and utter twat.

“You look nice, Edea,” Tiz murmured. His visible eye was focused on her dress, she noticed, and she gave a little sashay, posing to show off its form better and laughing when he turned pink. She supposed the neckline was pretty plunging, but she loved the cut–and besides, Tiz had always been a little shy with girls and more feminine things. It was her mission to get him used to them again so he could be forward with Agnès when the time was right! (Though, Magnolia was either going to desensitize him completely, or leave him traumatized. Edea was not yet sure which.) He was trying to go on, at least, his mouth working as he remarked: “It’s… fashionaaa…?”

…Awww, Tiz. “People don’t call it that anymore,” she said, flapping a hand at him. “That was a fad. It’s just ‘fashionable’ now.” Which he was obviously not a reliable judge of, if the clothes he for some reason insisted on continuing to wear hadn’t clued her in before, but she appreciated that he meant to compliment her.

Now he just looked annoyed, for as much of his expression as she could see under his mop of hair. “But you used to correct me on that all the time.”

“That’s what being fashionable means! You make the most of fads when they’re in, and you know when they’re out. Of course, there are some rules of fashion that never change, like…maintaining a sharp hairstyle…”

“Uh huh.”

Maybe it was better she couldn’t see his whole expression. The full force of his current apathy might have been enough to actually make her feel bad. “You could look very nice yourself, Tiz! All you’d need is a little…snip-snip-snip.” She reached up (higher than she’d liked to have needed, how Tiz had managed to grow taller while in a coma was a mystery to her) and took a bit of his absurdly long fringe between her index and middle fingers, miming a pair of scissors.

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