I HEARD A DOG BARK TODAY AND I BARKED BACK AND IT REPLIED THE EXACT SAME WAY AND WE WENT BACK AND FORTH UNTIL MY FRIEND TOLD ME THAT IT WAS JUST MY VOICE ECHOING AND I HAD BEEN BARKIG BY MYSELF FOR 5 MINUTES STRAIGHT
I’m gonna say this once: if you, as a straight dude, can sing the praises of a fictional female character to the high heavens, talk about how awesome and badass and hot she is, and how her skimpy costume (if she has one) is perfectly representative of her character, and defend her in arguments, and generally talk like she’s the queen of the world, but then you turn right around and scream at, creep on, slutshame or otherwise actively harass girls who cosplay as her because you think they’re the wrong bodytype, or they’re just doing it for attention, or they don’t pass your definition of a true fan, or for literally any other bullshit reason, then let me explain you a thing: you don’t actually like that character.
What you like, whether sexually or intellectually or some combination thereof, is the fantasy of controlling a woman - or rather, the idea of a woman - in a context where you don’t also have to grant her actual personhood and all its attendant rights. As such, seeing her physically brought to life by a real human being smashes your objectifying, possessive daydreams into a billionty pieces, and your first response is therefore either to attack the cosplayer as inadequate to the role or attempt to reassert your ownership of the character via ownership of her - that is, by aggressively monopolising her time and/or invading her personal space, just because she came out dressed like something you mistakenly thought was yours.
Because if you really liked the character - which is to say, the idea of the person they represent - then simply seeing her personified, no matter how that personification differed from your internal visualisations, would not threaten you.