#((bingo!

I'm feeling salty.

Do you have other ridiculous arguments against the use of the completely harmless term 'transandrophobia' that is simply the latest in a long line of terms (i.e., aphobia, biphobia, panphobia, polyphobia, butchphobia...) used to describe the unique experiences of hypovisible marginalised groups within the queer community?? Let me know! I've already completed a second bingo card full of this nonsense.

But yeah, feel free to use this to shut down and mock these arguments. They deserve to be ridiculed - at this point, it's an obvious excuse to perpetuate trans & queerphobia.

Free Space | @leonardmccoyevents’ Leonard McCoy Bingo 2025

-- JayTim Affectionate Insults drabble--

“Hey, dumbass!”

“What do you want, slut?”

“Want you,” –grunt– “ to get that ugly face,” smack “over here and help.”

“Handle it,” –oomph– “yourself, flat ass.”

Tim took an elbow to the gut before he could respond, knocking the breath from his lungs. He swiftly swung his bo around to return the favor to the assailant.

Tim's hit was harder and the man was laid out on the ground. Tim glanced up just in time to see Red Hood pistol whip his last thug and then it was just the two of them left standing, panting over the slight exertion.

~And that’s the 100 but have an extra 115~

drarry | word count: 134 | title from: “black hole” (Wikipedia) | ⋆˚꩜｡ | for the @microficmay card #1 prompt: saunter

_ _ _

Draco forced a grin, then gave it, (gracious).

“You’ll carry me out of here, then?”

Potter’s pity split— he laughed, the edge of it breaking through the concealment charm. “Suppose I’ll have to.”

It was a good laugh, now that Draco could hear it proper.

“How romantic,” he hummed.

“Fuck off,” Potter answered, mirth-mellowed.

“A favour, Potter,” Draco said, gaze flicking to the eyes that weren’t Potter’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“The next time you tell me to fuck off,” he prodded, slow steps carrying him closer, soot-stain fingers falling to the front of his uniform, all that innocuous grey wool. Bold in the absence of consequence, of memory.

“Next time, tell me while you’re wearing your own face.”

Hopscotch-Potter grinned back at him, the shape of it wrong. (& yet, the feeling familiar.)

“Sure. Alright.”

_ _ _

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