#faggots if you will darling

[sunnymeddows]

Husbands

[acheronist]

oh my god i just remembered when sergei had to lie on the spot about what his job was to a california girl who didn't give a shit about sports and he said 'backup dancer in the madonna tour'

[andthebeanstalk]

Me, spending about 6 hours every day just managing my chronic pain, doing stuff like physical therapy as well as laying in bed with the most fierce intent towards relaxation that the world has ever seen: I have-- to rest-- to calm the nerve pain-- I need to get up and be-- a faggot-- I can't give up-- The world needs me and my-- my fruity ways--

(I am, of course, also a faggot laying down, but I do have to lay here long enough to help the pain and eventually get up to do other faggoty-dyke things out in the world. It's hard to tell if I'm doing it right sometimes.

But with great Faggotry comes great responsibility, you know.

And I simply cannot attend to all of my fruity duties if my body is on the verge of collapse! As hard as it is for me to show myself the grace I need, I must rest and forgive myself - lest I become nothing more than an anxious rainbow smear on the pavement.

And I can't become a pavement smear because then the world would be less queer without me! And also I have plans this evening! And so many more faggotries to enact before the day is through!)

[genderkoolaid]

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

— Kate Bornstein on the word "tranny" in this oral history from the Digital Transgender Archive

[makeyoumine69]

Blood Sweat & Tears

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: It doesn't matter how far this man can go. You are ready to surrender to his possession because you are his obedient little girl.

— WARNINGS: Period sex, hurt/comfort, blood kink, oral (f), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, possessive behavior, body worship, hand jobs, marking, teasing, dirty talk, Praise kink, Mild Degradation kink, pet names, dumbification.

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, I hope you like it! Many thanks for an amazing GIF by @nikolatexla!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [support]

It was a busy day at the Bellagio, the most famous and well regarded casino in Las Vegas. Shamelessly, rich people gambled here and there, not caring how much money they would win or lose. The chin-chin of the glasses mingled with the flirtatious laughter of beautiful girls whose short dresses were too seductive and all the guys around couldn't hide their hungry eyes.

Patrick Bateman loved to play roulette, it was his favourite gambling game. With a smug look on his face, he sat near the table, smoking an expensive cigar and holding you possessively by your waist as you rested on his lap.

With a haughty grin, Patrick took a chip and brought it to your lips. "Come on, darling. Blow on it."

"Do you think it will bring you luck?" You asked, a little skeptical, but did what he wanted nonetheless.

"I always feel so lucky when you're around." He winked at you, giving your bum a light pinch that made you giggle in embarrassment. "Let's see what we got."

Although you didn't know the exact denomination of the chips, you were sure that it wasn't cheap, so you  got nervous when the roulette began to spin. Your eyes followed the small ball as it spun around in circles, and when the ball stopped in the red 7 slot, you heard Bateman's happy voice:

"YES, BABY!" He smooched your cheek before clapping his hands and urging you on: "Always bet on red, honey. Always."

"Wow," you smiled at him and took a sip of champagne, when suddenly you felt his big palm cupping your butt. "Hey, gentleman. Watch your hands!"

"Or what?" Patrick chuckled, pulling you closer as he puffed on his cigar. "I'm on a roll today, sweetheart. You know what that means?"

For a moment, you just stared into his hazel, magnetic eyes, and when he noticed your intense gaze, Bateman beckoned you closer so he could blow rings of smoke right against your half-open lips. 

"God, you're so beautiful," Patrick murmured, stroking your chin and tilting your head to the side to admire the view. "My lucky charm."

Oh, Bateman could be such a sweet talker sometimes.

Rolling your eyes, you let him cover your lips with his plush ones, but when his wet tongue began to explore your mouth, you heard someone's irritated voice:

"Hey, young people, this is a casino, not a brothel, maybe you need help getting yourselves a room?"

You and Patrick immediately turned in the direction of the owner of the voice to see an old man smoking a cigar of the same brand as Bateman's. When he noticed this he became even angrier.

With an arrogant grin, Patrick puffed on his cigar and growled through clenched teeth: "Maybe you need help keeping your mouth shut?"

"Patrick!" You tried to calm him down, but he just shook his finger at you before turning back to the stranger.

"I'm enjoying my girl, and you don't have one, maybe that's your fucking problem?" 

"Take it easy, gentlemen." One of the securities warned as he came across your table. "Otherwise I'll have to escort you out."

"You should throw these two idiots out for indecent behaviour!" The old man continued to inflame the conflict, causing Bateman to clench his fists and making you fear that he would crush the man's skull. 

"Patrick, don't!" You lean on his broad shoulders, fumbling with the soft fabric of his pinstriped jacket. "We're leaving soon anyway!"

"You're just an old faggot whose destiny is to jerk off for the rest of your miserable life!" Bateman spat in the old man's face.

The growing tension between them was starting to really concern you, so you pressed a hand to your temple nervously, feeling the vein pulsate under your touch.

"Enough, please!" You didn't give up trying to cool this argument down, but the situation seemed to finally get out of control when the man got up from his seat and rushed towards you. "Patrick, NO!"

Shocked, you saw your beloved  standing in front of you, instinctively trying to cover you as your safety was his number one priority. In the next second, a tall security guard came between Patrick and the old man, shouting:

"HEY! CALM DOWN!"

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" The stranger yelped and tried to hit Bateman, and that was his biggest mistake, because the next moment Patrick's firm fist slammed into his confused face like in a slow motion film.

Frightened, you hysterically put a hand over your mouth, suddenly becoming hyper aware of your heart pounding painfully against your chest. "Stop! Please!" You repeated over and over, ignoring the sharp pain that coursed through your lower body. Anything you said was useless at this point, so you just gasped and blurted out: "I'm leaving!"

Biting your lower lip nervously, you spun around and made your way through the countless tables towards the exit, trying to ignore the curious eyes that only left you when you finally made it to the hallway.

Only then did you hear Bateman's worried voice as he rushed down the stairs after you:

"(Y/N), baby! WAIT!"

His words made your heart skip a beat, but you kept moving, stifling a sharp gasp. It was only a matter of seconds before he caught you in his strong arms, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn't. So you stopped and looked at him as he gently cupped your face.

"Darling, I'm sorry it turned out like this! But that bastard, he—"

"You could just have ignored him!" You interrupted and tried to move away, but his firm grip didn't allow it.

"He dared to say something when I was just enjoying the night with my lovely girl, how could I just ignore him?" Patrick tried to peck you on the nose, but you turned away. "Oh, come on, don't be like that! What can I do to make up for this little accident?"

"Just take me to the hotel, please," you breathed out and he finally let go of you. "I don't feel well, Patrick."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious." You pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling the unpleasant tingling again. "Just a little headache from the stress, you know?"

Bateman sighed deeply, feeling a little sad. It was probably the first time in his life that he actually felt guilty.

Later, you found yourself crying on the large balcony of your shared hotel room, and even the amazing view of Vegas at night didn't help.

Just as you were about to return to the living room, you heard the door slide open and saw Patrick's slightly grumpy face. 

"I've been waiting for you for almost 20 minutes, are you OK?" His sudden question took you by surprise.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine! I was just... I was just admiring the view."

"Aha, and the view is so fascinating that it made you cry?" Bateman stepped closer to you without breaking eye contact. "Don't try to fool me, darling. What happened?"

You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment, but when his warm, large palm touched your cheek to wipe away your shimmering tears, you nuzzled into it, because it was exactly what you needed right now.

"Patrick, you scared me, I was so nervous that..." You hiccupped and swallowed your tears.

"That I was going to kill that guy?" He chuckled a bit strangely.

"WHAT?!" You gave him a confused look. "No! I was afraid he would hurt—"

"You?" He interrupted, caressing the back of your neck to calm down your nerves. "Darling, no one will ever touch you with a finger. I've told you so many times and—"

"Stop! It's not about me! It's about you!"

Patrick narrowed his eyes and frowned a little in confusion. "What do you mean? My behaviour scared you?"

"I was afraid for you, Patrick!" You blurted out, salty tears running down your cheeks again.

A shadow of disbelief crept across his perfect face. "You were afraid for me?" He repeated, chuckling. "'Sweetheart, you—"

"No! Don't say anything!"

"Shhh." Patrick murmured in your ear, stroking your shoulders gently. "It's OK, love. It's okay." His reassuring tone and warm embrace comforted you, but you secretly wished for more. 

"Patrick…" You gasped as he suddenly attacked your neck as if he could read your mind. "Just... don't do that again."

Bateman only whispered some romantic nonsense, his strong hands were already groping your bum, and you instinctively arched your back towards him for closer contact. Possessively, he left a noticeable red mark on your cleavage, and when he heard your obscene moan, Patrick couldn't help but grin and mutter under his breath:

"Mmhm… what a naughty little kitten." A long lick across your cheek and then a sensitive bite on your throat made you squirm, but he held you tight. "I want to fuck you right here."

"Pat!" A muffled whimper escaped your shaky throat as he pressed you against the balcony railing and spread your legs with his knee. "Wait!" 

Only after kissing you hard on the lips did he stopped and allowed you to speak.

"Why? What's wrong?" He asked, giving you his most seductive glance.

"We can't do this," you were a little afraid of his reaction, but you decided to be honest with him, just like he asked you to the other day. "I'm... I'm on my period right now."

You lowered your eyes as you said this, but he immediately lifted your face by the chin and made you look at him. "Baby, I'm absolutely fine with that."

"But..." You tried to protest, feeling a stabbing pain in your lower body. "I don't know if I'm okay with this...

Patrick snickered and traced a finger along your slightly wet cheekbone. "I can ease your pain," he pecked at your temple, then moved down to the sensitive area around your ear and mused. "If you let me. Will you let me take care of you?"

Trembling, you clung to the railing behind you to cope with the rapidity of your heartbeat. "Right here? Are y-you sure? What if someone sees us?"

Amused by your innocence, Bateman shook his head quickly and looked at you from hair to toe. "Then they are lucky to see such beauty like you. Now open your legs for me, sweetheart."

Damn, the power this man had over you was overwhelming. 

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against the railing and did as he asked, pulling up your black skimpy dress. 

"Fuck, I love it when you're so obedient," Patrick licked his lips briefly as he looked shamelessly at your mound. "I love everything about you, actually."

What a devil. So smug, but insanely hot.

With a sly grin, Bateman knelt beside you, and the next moment you had to stifle a nervous sigh as you felt his plush, warm lips on your leg. Inch by inch he worked his way up to your thigh, looking at you from below, his brown eyes glowing brighter than the Sun itself. Gulping, you tried your best to relax, but when he was about to push your panties aside, you stopped him with a nervous sigh.

"Sorry, I can't!" 

"(Y/N), dear," You could feel how needy he was when he cupped your thigh, nuzzling against it and planting little kisses. "Just let it go. I got you."

Although he allowed you to close your legs, his large palm was still between them, ready to slip under your underwear at any moment.

"Don't you trust me?" His sudden question made you lose orientation in space.

"Yes! Of course I do!" You said without hesitation, running your fingers through his coiffed hair, making it slightly dishevelled. "I just don't feel comfortable with it…" 

You expected him to be angry at your refusal, but instead he just planted a sloppy kiss on your pubic bone. Then he grinned at how cute you sounded when he did things like that.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" His slightly pushy tone sent shivers down your spine.

Humming to yourself, you paused for a moment to consider his words, doubting that he would back down from his urge to fuck you. It seemed like not even your periods could stop him.

"Can we do it in the shower…?" You asked and saw his smile widen. "But first, I need some time to myself."

"You can have all the time in the world, darling." Patrick pinched your ass before adding: "But only until I get bored."

You didn't say anything back because you knew it was rather unreal to outsmart him in his own game. Carefully, he stood up and watched you go out from the balcony, and the look he gave you when you decided to turn around was so fucking savage.

In the shower, you closed your eyes from the soothing sensation of the warm streams of water outlining the curves of your beautiful body. Damn, it was so relaxing that you didn't even notice Bateman standing in the doorway, admiring the view and undressing lazily, unable to avert his hungry gaze.

"Mmm, what a view." He sneered in a raspy voice, and you immediately turned around to see him completely naked.

Swallowing hard, you watched his cock bob every time he moved, it was huge and veined, it sent shivers down your spine, it made your inner walls clench around nothing. You found yourself trapped in a cage with a wild beast when he joined you, because now you couldn't run away.

Patrick closed the distance between you a little too quickly, causing a loud wail to escape your mouth. He kissed you roughly, consuming all the little pathetic sounds you made, especially when his sneaky hand slid down your belly to your juicy pussy.

"Mmhm!" You murmured in the kiss as his tongue playfully teased yours, his strong arms were wrapped around you like tight ropes.

"Baby," He exhaled through his inflamed nostrils from how fucking hard he was. "You smell so good."

"I love you." It was all you managed to say, and these three words were enough to make him growl in ecstasy.

And then you had no choice but to claw at your own palm as the sensation of his strong tongue drawing invisible ornaments along your abdomen was too much to bear. Bateman knew it before you even tried to pull away, so he gripped your ass as tightly as he could, forcing you to open up for him. The moment his mouth locked onto your swollen clit, you seemed to stop breathing and lose your ability to speak. Patrick made a guttural sound from the taste of your flavour mixed with your blood, so he continued to suck on your sensitive bud with his eyes closed. 

"Ahhmm, Patty!" You were now literally sprawled against the wall of the shower, your hands desperately sliding along it in search of support.

"Mmmm, I can eat that pussy forever." He said briefly before draping your leg over his broad shoulder for better access to your soaped slit.

For a brief moment Patrick looked longingly into your eyes and stroked your inner thigh before he suddenly thrust his pulsating tongue into your hot, feverish cleft, and that sensation was wholesomely mind-blowing.

"OH MY GOSH! OHH MY G-GOSH!" Your loud scream surely could be heard from outside the hotel room, but you didn't care. "Pat-Patrick!"

The running water drowned out the dirty slurping sounds Bateman was making as he devoured your sweet little pussy, along with his wild growls, which you could barely hear, but they sounded so fucking animalistic. At one point, you found yourself balancing on the edge as his tongue played with your throbbing tip, and it felt almost electric. You grabbed his head and brought it even closer to your pulsating pussy, moaning lewdly.

"Mhmm— yeah, give me more…" He grunted before cooing at you. "Such a needy girl... your voice is so sweet, just like your tight little hole."

You were about to pass out from the sheer overstimulation when he began to lick your cunt more and more fiercely with each second, pumping his thick cock all the while. And not to mention the mind-numbing view when you dared to look down to see his handsome lower face smeared in a little bit of your blood.

"Please, t-this is too much!" You almost screamed, feeling your legs getting weak. "Mmmm— my GOD, I'mma cum, I'mma cummm!"

Patrick chuckled softly before letting the surging lust overtake his mind, and before he even realized, his thin fingers were already inside your clenching pussy, bringing you to one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had, all that while he continued to swirl his tongue around your clit.

"Ahhhh! Patrick— mmhm!" You clung to his shoulder and nearly broke in half from the violent tremors on your body.

"Just like that, darling. Keep showing me how good I make you feel." Bateman mumbled, licking your blood from his lips as his fingers kept stimulating you to prolong your climax. "Good girl!"

Dazed, you almost slipped down the wall, but he caught you and pulled you into a passionate kiss. The metallic taste on your lips made you moan into his mouth, and he used that moment to grab your hand and wrap it around his cock, forcing you to stroke it at a steady pace.

"Feeling better, babe?" He towered over you, his hands resting on the wall on either sides of you.

"Yes..." You closed your eyes because you couldn't bear the way he looked at you; his devilish and slightly mocking grin humiliated you. "Thank you, Patrick."

"Fucking hell. You're so sweet and innocent." Bateman couldn't hold back a laugh, but then he moaned, his dick throbbing in your grasp. "C'mere, honey."

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, just lifted you up with ease and opened the shower door. Everything that happened next was so intense that it reminded you of some of your wild dreams that you always kept as a secret from Patrick, but after the events of that night, you would probably tell him about them.

Breathing heavily, you lay on the pile of white towels that Patrick had dropped on the floor to make you more comfortable, as he was going to fuck all the pain out of you. With no hurry, Bateman kneeled down in front of your open legs, then placed them on his shoulders and kissed your ankles.

"I hope you remember that I love you too." He sneered suddenly as he pushed himself inside you. "My little girl... mmm-mine, only mine!"

A slow thrust, then another, but deeper. 

"P-Patrick!" You sobbed as he pulled you up a bit to pound you harder, rolling his toned hips against yours, and it felt so fucking good. "Kiss me! Aww... please, please, p-please!"

Patrick could swear he was about to lose it right now, but he gathered all his will into a fist and tried his best not to cum just from seeing you so vulnerable and ruined beneath him. Damn, you were whimpering so loudly and so pathetically from the way his beefy cock was brushing against your soft inner walls, that he had to hang over you and shush you with his mouth.

"Argh... is this too much for you already?" Bateman looked down at where your bodies were connected — the blood on his cock was driving him crazy, but he couldn't stop mocking you. "Do you want me to stop?"

Fucking bastard!

"N-no! Don't... awwww!" You stammered when he nibbled at your neck, thrusting hard and deep into your dripping womb. "Don't stop!"

"Holy fuck, you're nasty!" He murmured into your ear before tonguing it. 

As soon as Patrick hugged your shoulders and put a hand under your head, you hid your face in the nape of his neck and shrieked as his pounding became faster and sloppier. Your sweaty bodies slapped against each other, filling the bathroom with vicious sounds, and there was nothing left for you to do but wrap your legs around his loin, drowning in an ocean of pleasure every time the tip of his dick hit your cervix.

"A-awwww! Pat...mmm-Patrick!" You whimpered against his bloody lips as he lowered himself to kiss you.

Bateman growled into your mouth when you cupped his toned ass, encouraging him to go deeper, so he settled on his knees to fuck you hard into the floor with his full weight.

"Mmmhm… your pussy is clinging to my dick so greedily! F-fuck!" His hoarse voice only added fuel to the fire, you could feel the pulsing tension in your lower abdomen again.

"Pat..." You stammered as your legs started to shake. "Patrick-mmhm ahhh!"

"What?"

"C-cum… cum inside me..."

Patrick laughed before he gave you several  deep strokes, pressing you closer to his body and enjoying the way you moaned under his massive muscles. "Ask me nicely, baby." 

"P-please!" 

"What are you mumbling?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, while his other hand was buried in your hair.

"I want your c-cream, ahhh… PLEASE! Fill me up until I… I'm so full! I BEG YOU!" You were on the verge of tears, your trembling little form was ready to explode in the next vivid orgasm.

Grinning, Patrick clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Jeez, you're such a slutty girl, begging me to fill your tight hole with my cum... mmhm... today's your lucky day..."

With a low growl, Bateman suddenly pulled out of you and turned you on your side, bending your legs and pressing them together. Feeling dizzy, you didn't even want to look at him, knowing you couldn't bear how fucking savage he looked now, the sight of his huge dick covered in your blood awakening something absolutely primal in him.

"Don't you dare beg for mercy, bitch." He blurted out through his gritted teeth as he thrust into your abused cunt once more.

You had to cover your mouth with one hand as his muscular hips slammed into your fragile frame. Moaning, Patrick pinned you in place, gripping your ass and thigh, and doing his best to make the tension on your cervix unbearable. You bit your finger as you arched your back, convulsing from the multiple waves of pleasure that seemed to pierce through each pitch of your body. Patrick didn't stop drilling into your feverish slit, enjoying how dumb you looked with your eyes rolled back in your head.

"Look at you!" He snarled as his dick throbbed from the overwhelming sensation of your clenching pussy. "S-so fucking overwhelmed, mmhhm!" Bateman paused again, throwing his head back and growling loudly as he finally allowed himself to peak. "Arghhh, FUCK!"

Bateman was absolutely brutal with the way he dug his fingers into your soft skin. Later there would be bruises for sure, but at that moment you couldn't bring yourself to care as the feeling of his warm seed spilling into you became the final drop for your mind to collapse. 

By the time Patrick stopped moving, you were completely numb. When you tried to move, you felt his dense cum flowing down your hips. You didn't even tried to resist when he possessively spread your legs to smeared the mixture of his cream and your blood all over your mound before hanging over you and making you suck on his fingers. Closing your eyes, you moaned at the salty taste and cleaned his digits with your tongue.  No matter how far he could go, you would submit because you trusted him. 

"Good girl." Bateman purred after you finished licking his fingers. He then pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Why didn't we do this before?"

"Don't even ask." You laughed, looking up at his flushed face.

"I'm not going to leave it like this, darling." He covered your mouth with his, moaning softly at the taste of himself on your lips. "From now on I'm going to have a calendar of your cycle because I enjoyed this too much."

Holly shit.

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[redditreceipts]

Ooooo I'm a trans person I'm so scary ooooo

I am going to use a PUBLIC RESTROOM 👻

Like imagine if you were born with a dick but with the same brain that's all trans women are, why be afraid of a little girldick or boypussy, trans women are women darling I don't know what to tell you

Ooooooooo --a super scary tranny faggot who loves being transsexual

Okay, let's imagine me being born with a dick but with my exact same brain. I would

be less likely to be sexually assaulted

have a higher probability of being diagnosed early with autism instead of later in life

be able to not wear makeup and still be accepted as a functioning member by society

only have to do the bare minimum to hold a partner

have the entire medical industry being catered to me

earn more money than my female counterparts

get taken more seriously in discussions

be physically stronger than most women I encounter

be more likely to be promoted at my job

have people with my body type be the standard when testing cars for accidents

be able to walk alone at night

have to spend way less money on clothing that is also higher quality

not have to be afraid every time I meet up with a person who I know off the internet

etc.

and the only thing women would ask of me to please not go into their spaces and claim to understand what they are going through when I most definitely do not?

doesn't sound too bad, to be honest

[transfagwhore]

important!!!

boundaries

THIS IS A STRICTLY 18+ BLOG. IF YOU HAVE NO AGE IN YOUR BIO, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IMMEDIATELY!

i'm a man! "men dni" blogs stop following me lmao

flirty/horny asks are more than welcome, but please only DM me if we're mutuals!

i'm not afraid to block people. be nice <3

basics

my name is teddy and i'm a disabled jewish transmasc bear butch fagdyke

i use he/him pronouns

2+ years on t

attracted to all genders but in a really faggy way

t4t + polyam

i'm a switch, but i lean heavily towards dom top

if you enjoy my blog, consider leaving me a tip!

more nsfw info below the cut

main kinks

dom/sub

rough sex

praise

light/moderate degradation

petplay (puppy!!!)

intox

manhandling

hair pulling

impact play (light)

voyeurism/exhibitionism

threesome/group

leather

boots

biting

light cnc

choking (light)

objectification

body worship

ownership

size/strength kink

daddy kink (mostly just the title)

most power dynamics tbh

probably more that i forgot, i'll edit the post if i remember more

hard limits

noncon

piss/scat

ageplay

raceplay

feederism

detrans/misgendering

words/terms i like

for my genitals: cunt, hole, dick, cock

for my chest: chest, tits (ask first)

titles/names: sir, daddy, darling, baby, slut, whore, good boy, puppy, mutt, dog, good dog, puppyboy, faggot

tags

#teddy.speaks for (mostly) non-horny updates

#teddy.answers for my responses to asks

#hornyposting for my original horny posts

#domposting for my original dom posts

#subposting for my original sub posts

#💌 - girlfriend tag

#🐸 - butch fwb tag

regular anons

🪼 ⚰️ ⚔ 🌿💄 ⚠️ 🦋 🩹 🦷 🧪 😇 🪶👑🐦‍⬛🫁

[cnjosephs]

POLARIS TRANS*

A poem for Pride. Continued under the read more.

As I grew from a little girl to a teenage boy, They said I should call myself trans*, with a star at the end: A star for something unfinished; a star for possibility.

As I grew from a teenage boy to a femme young adult, They said I should call myself trans, with no star at the end: That the star’s sharp points only served to cut and divide.

As I grew from a femme to a gloriously butch dykefag, I thought again about the star of my youth And about all the things it can stand for:

Trans* is for transgender— It’s for language that grows and shifts Like a living being; like a tree; like a child; For Sylvia’s Transgender Action Revolutionaries And for the kids at their high school GSA Walking into the club with their hearts in their hands.

Trans* is for transgressive— It’s for shattering expectations Shattering societies, boundaries, and binaries Like panes of fractured glass; The glass was breaking already, you know, But now we can turn it into a mosaic.

Trans* is for transsexual— It’s for those who pick up an old word That they’ve been told is “outdated” And brush the scorn off of it Like dust off of fine China To display it with pride on the shelf.

Trans* is for transformation— It’s for the little girls who became men, For the little boys who became women, For everyone who became everything, For everyone who became nothing, For everyone who became.

Trans* is for transvestite— It’s for shedding the skin you were forced into Like a snake shedding too-tight scales And growing something that fits you better; Making something new and beautiful, Wearing something beautiful and yours.

Trans* is for transitory— It’s for those of us whose gender shifts Like the phases of the moon; For people who fall asleep a femme fag And wake up a butch dyke And repeat the process again in a week.

Trans* is for tranny— It’s for picking up the stick they beat you with And sharpening it to a spear; Holding it up to defend yourself, To defend your kin, and saying: “You really wanna mess with us?”

Trans* is for those who reject the New Queer Binary— Who answer “Are you transfem or transmasc?” With an annoyed “Neither, actually”; Whose gender is not silence, but absence of noise; For men who are also women, For lesbians who are also gay men; For people so outside the binary That “nonbinary” feels like a chain around their throat; Maybe you can’t be cis and trans But I know you can be cis and trans*, And I know that you can’t draw a line between genders Like the respectable queers pretend you can.

Trans* is for all of us— For boydykes and girlfags, For queens and kings and crossdressers, For masculine women and feminine men, For my oft-excluded intersex darlings; For FTMs who wear suits and MTFs who wear gowns, For MTFs who wear suits and FTMs who wear gowns; For those on hormones and those who eschew them, For those who change their name and those who don’t; For those who want surgery to get a penis or a vagina, And those who want surgery to get both, And those who want surgery to have nothing.

Trans* is for everyone who marked the path we walk on now— It’s for Lili and Dr. Barry, For Roberta and Christine, For Marsha and Sylvia, For Stormé and Miss Major, For Leslie and Lou; And for so many others whose names we do not know Because they were blessed with the safety of privacy Or cursed with the violence of erasure.

If you asked me to name trans-with-a-star I’d tell you to call them Polaris Trans* The gender-variant community’s guiding light.

Trans* tells us where to go— To follow the paths cut by our predecessors, While keeping their drive to explore untrodden ground. To offer our hands for each other: Both to raise each other up when we fall And to fight when we’re under attack.

Trans* tells us who we are— We are faggots and dykes and sissies and queens, We are a bunch of rowdy queers who won’t shut up; We are armed with bottles and glasses, With bats and pens, with guns and paint; We are the people who have only survived Because when nobody would take care of us, When respectable queers treated us like a stain on their flag, We took care of each other.

Trans* tells us who to be— It tells us that we must be so brave and so strong, And so scared and so soft. That we must save our anger for those who hurt us, And not turn it on each other. That we must hold each other accountable for harm, But understand we are all flawed humans, And that mistakes are not unforgivable. That we must not hurt our trans* siblings For daring to be trans* in a way we cannot understand, And that you don’t need to know exactly what stars are made of To love how they shine in the sky.

Historical Notes

The figures referred to in the thirteenth stanza are, in order: Lili Elbe, Dr. James Barry, Roberta Cowell, Christine Jorgensen, Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, Stormé DeLarverie, Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, Leslie Feinberg, and Lou Sullivan.

Sylvia Rivera is the same Sylvia mentioned in stanza four. In the 1970s, Sylvia and Marsha founded the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries together. They provided housing and care for homeless gay and trans* youth while working towards broader goals of achieving trans* liberation. Sylvia and Marsha kept their kids fed and housed through funds they raised via sex work. 

Sylvia would later say that the death of STAR came at the 1973 Christopher Street Liberation Day Parade, where trans* activists were told they couldn’t speak on stage. Sylvia and drag queen Lee Brewster physically fought their way to the stage and criticized the gay community for abandoning the trans* community after the trans* community had spent years fighting for rights for all of them. Lesbian activist Jean O’Leary verbally attacked them both, claiming that drag was “misogynistic” and “demeaning”, and that trans* people had no place in the gay rights movement. Receiving such a devastating rejection from people Sylvia had considered friends pushed her out of working in activism for many years. 

Marsha was tragically murdered in 1992 at the age of 47. Eight years later, in response to the murder of trans woman Amanda Milan, Sylvia resurrected STAR as the Street Transgender Action Revolutionaries. While Marsha and Sylvia were both integral to the initial work of STAR, I refer to it as “Sylvia’s” in the fourth stanza to make it clear I’m referring specifically to the later incarnation, which used “transgender” in their name. You can read more about Sylvia’s life in her essay “Queens in Exile, the Forgotten Ones”, written just before her fiftieth birthday in 2001. The closing paragraphs of the essay are, in my mind, both a profoundly valiant rallying cry and an agonizing indictment of our community’s failures:

Before I die, I will see our community given the respect we deserve. I'll be damned if I'm going to my grave without having the respect this community deserves. I want to go to wherever I go with that in my soul and peacefully say I've finally overcome. Editor's Note: Sylvia died on February 19, 2002, from complications of liver cancer. She was 50 years old. 

[musashi]

honestly though if you want a really good technique for avoiding annoying people in fandom, get attached to a widely hated character! or, if you can't make yourself do that? just pretend you are. pick the WORST character. the nastiest, most despicable, most vile character. or the most overhated and misunderstood one, who might not have even done anything wrong. what matters isn't the content of their character, just that they generate discourse. i'm talking your vriskas. find the vriska. pretend they are your favourite if they're not.

then, early on in any given interaction with a new fandom person, mention that they are your favourite. and watch how the person reacts.

i have two characters i do this with. the first is fi from the legend of zelda. her heinous crime that swaths upon swaths of gamerboys decided to froth with rage over for years is that she makes them feel emasculated because she likes to infodump. she is handholdy, she is helpful, and she is blunt and robotic and lacks any semblance of charisma or sex appeal. therefore she is nothing. and she is my favourite video game character of all time. i mention this early on and study the reaction of my conversational partner.

fi weeds out the kind of people i want to avoid in that fandom: misogynists. smug gamerbro types who make you spew novels of lore before they respect your opinion. no one like that is going to like fi, they have nothing to gain from her and everything to hate about her.

the second one is manfred von karma. he orphaned a child and then framed that child for murder 15 years later just, like, for fun. just 'cause he was having a hot girl moment. aforementioned orphan is the traumatized autistic darling of the fandom who all the twitter girlies love to project onto and hate to see any form of nuance in. mvk is cartoonishly evil and has no redeeming qualities. he is unpleasant to be around. he is controlling and cruel. and he's an old disabled man so basically no one besides faggots with good taste find him hot. when talking with ace attorney fans i bring it up as soon as possible that he's like my blorbo of all time. my silly rabbit. i talk about him like he's the fucking sun in my sky and i call him 'papa' because my cringey fictionkin ass does what they want and i watch people squirm and writhe and unperson me for it.

like fi, mvk very specifically roots out a very specific subset of this fandom i dislike: fanon-poisoned twitterbrained AA fans who "play the games" through fanfiction and incorrectquotes. they all think mvk is a child abuser (because evil, evil mean abuse kids, cannot be complex, all evil do a child abuse) and so they point their fingers and call me an abuse apologist because that's activism to them or whatever. they can do whatever they want as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, of course, but they're annoying and i want them to leave me alone. and because i love this monster they've created, they do.

the throughline here is: anyone who gets this fucking worked up over made-up pretend people is probably severely online, and uses fandom discourse as a personality replacement. what ever flavour of severely online it is, it's generally best not to associate with people like that because 9/10 times they are fucking deranged and are just waiting on you to cross them in some meaningless way so they can unperson you.

so, my advice to you: find the vriska. find the vriska, love the vriska, do it as early as possible. it will save you SO much time. weed out the people who respond with screeching and wriggling. keep close the people who say things like "haha whaaat? alright, explain that for me!"

[even-all]

domming him like: Let me shower you in praise, let me worship every inch of you, please darling, allow me to show you how adored you are. Cum for me <3

subbing for him like: and then you can tie me up and blindfold me and slap me and step on me and gag me and throw me in the river and stab me and set me on fire and-

tranny faggots only

[evita-shelby]

Tommy wants cuddles with Male! readers

Oohhhh been dying to write a male reader with Tommy

Cw: one slur, starts with an F

Secret

Gif by @mistress-gif

“I wish we didn’t have to hide.” Tommy murmured as you cuddled with your secret lover.

He has a wife, a beautiful and cold Irish woman who’d call the police on the two of you is she ever found out.

Grace believes the man who is too tired to fuck is loyal and in love with her.

You know better.

You were his right hand and only second to Polly in both the gang and the office. You were his best friend, his best man and the only person he truly loves.

Thomas Michael Shelby likes men just as much as he likes women, but Charlie’s conception was a way to shut up the whispers Campbell and his enemies had set loose.

The wedding was to make your secret love a nasty rumor meant to discredit the both of you.

God forbid the Devil of Small Heath be discovered to be faggot.

“It’s for the best, Tommy. Try to give Grace another kid, the Russians are getting suspicious of us.” You remind him that the world was still too far away from letting you love who you love regardless of their sex.

“Don’t fucking remind me, even Grace is becoming suspicious of my comings and goings these days. Lizzie is willing to cover for us, she said she’s willing to lie and say we’re fucking again to keep my darling wife away from you.” He admits, complains, and snuggles much closer to him, as if nothing existed beyond your bed.

“You’d think she’d get a fucking clue when you told her I live in Maida Vale.”

[princeyfelix]

That's so much better darling, isn't it? No more confusion, no more delusion - just pure euphoric male bliss

Can you even really believe you'd ever want to be a girl? Such a silly boy~ You're so much more handsome and stunning as a man. Even if you tried to *pretend* to be a girl, we'd still all clock you as the femboy faggot you really are~

Y'know why? Because even if you were dolled up in the most beautiful femme presenting clothes - you'd just be a gay man in a dress~ And theres nothing wrong with that; if anything, it makes you hotter

mmmm im just...im just a man in a dress? and that makes me hotter? mmmm maybe you could pick out a new name for me...

[skylarinfinity]

Only faggot follow you so don't be so proud about it, honestly it's embarrassing 😒

steve: [looking at m/n with love in his eyes] you know m/n you show me so many things especially that love is for everybody you deserve it no matter gender, religion, age or skin colours-

steve: [smiling] i'm so glad that you make me leave my 40s mindset behind because gosh it's horrible mindset and it's make me sad that there still someone like that...

m/n: [smile and give steve a peck on his lip] aww darling that so sweet, but i just glab you are mine!

author notes you know i really don't to deal with this right now, but if you don't like something just ignore it and go live your small and outdated mindset life, because i am proud that i know myself and i'm so happy that different people comfortable enough with with my blog to stick around. so your hate and slur doesn't hurt me at all because i just know that you don't know what self pride is that's why you so insecure and i'm so sorry for you.

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket

[genderkoolaid]

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy. 

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke. 

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

[commiepinkofag]

📷 David Wise, 1970

We weren't just a bunch of swishy faggots which young people to this day who don’t do their homework think we were. The Cockettes also were not just gay men. The group included women, straight guys, a baby, everything and everyone under the kitchen sink. Anyone could be a Cockette. All you needed to do was to show up in the audience and jump on stage. We resented all the theatrical law, we resented direction, we resented choreography, and we resented charging money. We didn't know how political we were because we had no need for rhetoric. It was the underground press that made us these political darlings. We were so anti-establishment. We didn't think about that. We were just out to have a good time. While our shows may have been interpreted as political, they were really just excuses to have a party, find boyfriends, and get laid.

Rumi Missabu [1947 - 2024]

[helenofsimblr]

Kane grabbed his pack of smokes and lit one quickly as he eyed the three men. 

Kane: Kira, I swear me and you gotta have us a chat about this shit. 

Kira: I can hardly wait(!)

Azura:  You ruined my fun… and you stink of guns. Don’t think of hurting my sweet Daddy Kane. Can we play later then? 

Kane: Yes my sweetness, they are trying to make us scared.

Azura looks them over, her face suddenly gets very serious: “They’re not scary. I can show them what scary is, if you want me to, my darling Kane.”

****

Johnson: Dunno what the fuck is with that broad of yours there kid, but she’s got a fuckin’ screw loose as well as a sandwich short of the picnic.

Kane: So in addition to being a henchman you’re also a psychiatrist huh?

Johnson: It's a side gig, what can I say? I’m multi-skilled. But if we could attend to business. Misters’ Moriarty are most displeased that you got this setup here and it seems you aren’t paying your uh… fees and costs. You also, so I hear, got a nice little drug racket going on in here which is reducing sales of our product. 

Kane: Drugs in my club? I’d never allow that! There’s obviously been some awful misunderstanding. 

Johnson: I see… so that white residue I see on the desk huh, that a misunderstanding too?

Kane: That? That’s just where I put sweetener in my coffee. 

****

Johnson: Right… “sweetener” of course. So if we can circle back to the business at hand, the fees that you owe to the Moriarty’s. There are of course arrears as well.

Azura: This is sooooo boring… I hate being bored. They talk too much. Let me play? I can pluck out their eyes and make you a pretty sculpture… I’ll make sure they leave smiling. 

Kane smiles sweetly at her: I’d love that doll, really, I would but for now we gotta play nice with the mean men, ok? 

Azura pouts: “Pooh… it’s no fun.” 

Johnson: Kid, there is something seriously wrong with her, but you want to keep her mouth shut. 

Kane: There is nothing wrong with her, she’s perfect in every way. And I will thank you to not insult my best pole dancer. Now, can I offer you gentlemen, a drink? A cigarette? Cigar? I bought some fat Sulanian cigars a day or two ago.

Johnson: No thanks, we will take an offer of 55 plus an extra 5 in late fees.

Kane: 60? Oh well that’s alright, we have 60 bucks in the petty cash right now.

Johnson: Don’t be a faggot. It's 60k. 

Azura: Why should we give them money? You worked hard for it, Kaneykins. I don’t see them dancing, though… Maybe that would be fun. Do you dance?