#would there be some things transphobes agree with me on? i guess so *but* i do not tolerate any transphobia...

[uncanny-tranny]

If the only people who laugh at your jokes or respond to you positively are bigots - and you yourself disavow those opinions - maybe it's time to analyze why it is that they feel safe around you. While you might not be intentionally bigoted in those ways, there is still a reason that somebody who's transphobic, anti-Black, whatever it may be, really, feels it is okay to be open about those bigotries.

[demilypyro]

Okay since this doesn't seem to want to go away here's me addressing every single "allegation" that I've heard about. I hope to have at least given a good explanation where the horrible things being said about me came from, and why I consider them either just totally not true or badly misconstrued. Some of my friends have recommended I don't say anything at all, but I've always preferred openness and honesty, so I hope that's appreciated.

I understand that some people will still dislike me even though the things being said about me are not true. That's fine. I don't need everyone to like me, but it's when I'm being consistently harassed and lied about that it interferes with my mental health and ability to work. So I'm gonna try and end things with this.

"She's racist"

From what I can tell this is about one time when I said I keep my interest in anime to myself around new people. I do this because showing you're a Huge Fucking Nerd right off the bat can make a bad impression. I could have said the same thing about Star Trek or comic books, I just happened to be talking about anime in that moment. Someone seems to have misconstrued this as me finding Japanese culture something shameful and lesser than other cultures?... Which I would call a total willful misinterpretation. The rest of this seems to stem just from being Dutch, because the Netherlands is a country that has a problem with xenophobia. This is true, but uhhh I'm mixed myself so I'm pretty well aware of that, and I obviously don't support our infamous "blackface holiday." Just because I live here doesn't mean I agree with everything this country does, be that historically or in the modern day.

"She's friends with racists/misogynists/transphobes"

The only thing I can guess this is about is when I was mutuals with a user called porko-rosso at least 5 years ago and didn't really believe it when people told me they were a bigot. I haven't interacted with this user in over 4 years but people still claim we're like best friends, which was never true in the first place, we just knew a lot of the same people. Most of the resentment from the people who repeatedly spread these rumours about me seems to have started here. So for the record: no, I am not friends with any racists, misogynists or transphobes.

"She thinks she's better than other trans women because she passes better"

This is just not true. This idea seems to pop up just whenever I post about enjoying the benefits of HRT or surgery, but most recently this was misconstrued from a post where I said being trans is about being yourself as much as possible. Since this was in response to someone saying that me trying to pass is "erasing my identity", people thought I meant trying to pass is the same as being good at being trans, which was not what I meant, but some people didn't seem to want to believe me when I clarified. My apologies for the misunderstanding I guess, but that's all it was. So no, I do not hate people who don't pass as well as I do, nor do I think all trans people should be transitioning medically, and I resent the implication.

"She has a secret discord server where she makes fun of pictures of other trans women and calls them slurs"

I had absolutely no clue what this was about when I first heard it. I was sent screenshots that supposedly prove this but all they show is me being rude about someone's appearance one time in january of 2022. I actually thought these were faked because I don't remember this happening and the things said confused me, but one of my friends says she found it was in her server, where she had showed a picture of someone and asked everyone present (mostly other trans women) if they were hot. Apparently I did not think they were hot. So yes, I did insult someone's appearance back in january 2022, but it was an isolated incident. Frankly even I find my remarks in these screenshots distasteful, I don't know what I was on when I wrote that stuff. I'm sorry to that person specifically. What I said has weighed heavily on me and I apologize for it. It's not something I approve of, and don't intend to repeat that mistake. Still, to say it means I hate trans women and I love to make fun of them in my secret discord server and call them slurs is just... a super-villain level of exaggeration. I didn't even know about the word that was named as an example. It's not true.

"She's often rude"

I can't deny this one. Autism gonna autism. I've seen many therapists, doctors, experts, what have you, to try and help me with this, but it seems my particular brand of autistic in combination with the cultural differences between mine and other countries just really often ends with my foot in my mouth when I speak English. I apologize! I have never meant to personally offend anyone. It just keeps happening and I can't stop it from happening.

If after reading all this, you still consider me bad enough to hate my guts, I can't stop you, but I wanted to have at least had my say. I swear that everything in this post is the honest truth as I understand it, and that I've never acted with purposeful malicious intent.

[transmascissues]

hey i know your post about your mom was mostly just a personal vent, but i have to say, do you realize that also happens with trans girls and their fathers? literally happened to one of my friends. i’m not trying to downplay your experience or something but i found it strange that you seem to think this is something that only affects transmascs

i have one question for you: so fucking what?

i don’t doubt that trans girls have experienced similar things and yeah, that’s bad too, but what the fuck does that have to do with me and the specific things i’m facing as a result of being a trans man? i never said “look at this thing that happens to ONLY trans men and NO ONE ELSE,” i just said “hey, isn’t this thing that happens to a lot of trans men, including myself, fucked up?”

i would also like to point out that what you’re talking about is in fact a different (albeit similar) thing. the way cis people treat trans people can differ dramatically based on the cis person’s gender because their commitment to gender roles is, like, a major part of problem. the specific way a cis mother reacts to her trans son’s transition is often going to be very distinct, while a cis father will likely respond to his trans daughter in a different but equally distinct way.

what i’m talking about is a very specific kind of ownership and control and self-victimization and total lack of boundaries masquerading as love and care and maternal concern that cis women (i would argue white cis women in particular) project onto their transmasc kids when we do literally anything to our bodies. i’m talking about a phenomenon which is closely related to the way moms often pass eating disorders onto their daughters (or children they view as daughters) because they see a body that looks something like theirs and project all of their insecurities and ideals onto it. i’m talking about a form of parental transphobia and projection that’s specific to the dynamic of a cis mother and her child who was “supposed to” be her daughter.

if you’ve never felt that, you’re not even remotely qualified to tell me shit about how i should be talking about that experience, and if you couldn’t recognize that experience when you read my post, i’m guessing you probably haven’t experienced it because the replies to that post made it very clear to me that anyone who has experienced it firsthand immediately knew exactly what i meant.

like, yeah, cis dads also project onto their trans daughters, but are they likely to have a reaction like running away with actual tears streaming down their face? do you expect them to passive aggressively make comments about how sad their kid’s transition makes them, how it’s such a difficult emotional time, how it’s so tragic because their kid’s body was so beautiful before? do you think their go-to transphobic reaction will be weaponizing their emotions? i’m sure there are some dads out there who are like that, but i think we can agree they’re in the minority because that’s not how cis men are taught to react and parents like this tend to be pretty damn committed to following the gender roles they were taught.

and even if i’m wrong and our experiences are exactly the same, let me reiterate that i never said this was an experience exclusive to trans men. all i said is that it happens to us. that’s just a statement of objective fact.

this started in my life when i got my hair cut short for the first time almost a decade ago and it has not stopped since. i’ve watched my mom cry over me changing my name and respond to being asked if my happiness matters more to her than my name by saying “i care about both”, i’ve watched her melt down in a mall over me getting a suit for prom and give me the silent treatment for days after, i’ve heard her plead with me to stop t because it “looks unnatural” and she’s just so “concerned for my health”, i’ve watched her stare at me post-op and say “my poor baby” over and over like she’s looking at my corpse in a casket. i’ve watched her turn herself into the victim of every single aspect of my transition. i’ve had to live with this for 9 years and spent the early years of the pandemic literally locked in a house with it. this has been my entire adolescent and adult life, and the question of if i’ll have to cut her off someday (and maybe never see my cat or my little cousins who i love more than anything in the world ever again as a result) haunts me every single day.

who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk about that?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for laughing at my conservative uncle?

This is an incident that made half of my family go no/low contact with each other, and some still think I was an asshole for it (I think I wasn't), but I wanna get tumblr's perspective. I was 24(F) when this happened, my uncle was 58.

Thanksgiving 2021 my family wanted a big weekend long get together after not being able to do Thanksgiving in 2020 due to lockdowns. Family members took time off work and drove in from out of state so we could all hang out from Thursday to Sunday.

We all have that one uncle who spends every family event saying the most out there racist/sexist/homophobic/transphobic/whatever shit, and mine I feel is worse than most. He has some truly shitty takes like "It should be legal to hunt the homeless for sport", and "If a woman doesn't wanna get raped she should get married at like 16 and never go anywhere without her husband," and "If I ever saw a man pretending to be a woman I would kill him with my bare hands, and most of this nation would agree with me". Truly a piece of shit. Meanwhile my family knows I am extremely progressive, so they do their best to keep me and my uncle separate during family events or else it could (and has in the past) lead to shouting matches.

But here's the thing: I would happily avoid him and not talk to him during get togethers, but he loves arguing. He seeks me out. He'll follow me to the bathroom and bring up transphobic things happening in the news. He'll get up from the dinner table to walk over to me and shove an news article about Trump in my face. If he sees me enter the room he'll start talking LOUDLY about his political opinions. He WANTS to argue with me, and the family considers it my duty to ignore him and calls me an asshole when I engage, because that's just giving him what he wants. But he somehow never gets called out for hounding me, because "that's just how he is".

So it's Thanksgiving 2021. And maybe it's because of the therapy, or maybe it's just because I'm getting tired of avoiding him, or maybe it's the lockdowns that eroded my social graces, but I see him spot me from across the room and get that "ohhh I'm gonna make her sooooo mad" little glint in his eye and start to make his way over, and I don't find it infuriating anymore. I find it deeply funny that this divorced, no job, no bitches, deadbeat dad, that everyone secretly hates, has decided the only way he can get a drop of serotonin in his sad miserable life that HE ruined all by himself, is to turn to reactionary politics in a desperate attempt to get a rise out of his niece.

He starts in on the regular vile transphobic shit (I don't need to repeat it we've heard it all before, imagine the worst anti-trans rhetoric you've ever heard and yup. That's what he was saying) and I don't try to counter his points like I usually do. I just laugh. He keeps going, looking more and more puzzled, and I keep laughing.

He thinks I didn't hear him right. No no, I heard it all, and it was funny. He decides I must be too triggered to speak. No I promise, I'm having the time of my life. He guesses I'm not as smart as I think I am then, if I can't come up with a good counterpoint. Oh I'm plenty smart, and you're plenty hilarious.

Long story short he gets madder and madder that I won't engage until he's red faced and yelling. Family members are trying to calm him down and telling me to stop. I don't. I'm not mad that they're again blaming me for the interaction when I was just standing there and HE came up to ME, it's just really funny at that point. Really funny that the entire family walks on eggshells to protect his precious feelings when they could just laugh in his face like I am. My uncle punches a hole in my grandmother's wall and storms off cussing. The mood of the entire Thanksgiving weekend is ruined, and even my most left leaning family members think I'm an asshole because I KNOW how he is and I should have just walked away.

Should I have just walked away to save everyone's Thanksgiving weekend?

What are these acronyms?

[notjennyfromtheblocked]

okay so since Anne found the post and is making posts on a sideblog you're gonna find out anyway and I'd rather you find out from me than her because I know it's going to be worse if I don't so

Yes, I lied. Okay? I lied. As far as I know she's never done anything abusive and as far as I know she's never cheated. I really, really wanted her to be abusive and to cheat and I was hoping she was because maybe if she were then I'd be able to have a chance. Yes he never said he was T4T it was just something I liked to believe because it was easier for me to accept when he said I wasn't his type then came out as trans that he was wink nudging me like "hey this is why you're not my type" because its easier to think he wasn't interested in cis people than just not interested in me. Even though he was flirting with Anne before she came out as bigender. And tbh I was really devastated when he would push me away when I would grab his thigh but not push her away when she would wrap her arm around his. Even when he gave me this speech about how overstepping boundaries is how you find out other's boundaries sometimes, so when someone tells you don't touch my thigh you're not a bad person unless you KEEP touching their thigh I knew, I knew exactly what he was talking about but I just. Convinced myself he wasn't talking about me, just saying something theoretical.

And yes I absolutely on purpose wrote the AITA so that it said to check the TLDR because I was hoping people would just kinda. Either skip or scroll. Through the AITA and vote NTA or JAH or maybe even ESH and then I'd see that and could convince myself that people genuinely believed that and I'd get some sort of satisfaction out of it. And yes I know I know that I've been digging myself deeper and I know I've come off transphobic and it's because I was being transphobic. But it was just such a nice idea to have, that she/he was faking and the villain and I could catch her/him at it and then he'd thank me and decide to be with me after all. It was nice to think that the only reason he was with her is because they were both trans together and that it was impossible for an introvert to ever be with an extrovert and it was based solely on the trans thing because then if she WAS faking then I could be the hero, right? I don't even know if that makes sense. But when everyone ditched me I knew, I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry I've pretended I didn't know that's what I was doing.

And then I thought if I could get this online somewhere and get people uninvolved and objective to agree that Anne was the bad guy then it woild be Out In the World as "official" that sje was abusive and bad for him. It's like when you hit someone's car in a parking lot and so you post on Facebook about how people need to look at their blind spots before backing put of a parking spot even though nobody was actually in the car, because if it's on Facebook that someone backed into you then people will see the post. So even if i had a restraining order and they didn't talk to me then online it wpuld be stated that she was in the wrong and that I could go through my life saying "see, they all know she's bad for him and thst I would've been good for him" and then maybe someone close to Anne wpuld see the post and see how everyone voted NTA (thst I wasn't the asshole) and tell them to break up, and that if they saw people online unequivocally vote her as the asshole they'd reconsider.

And yes I know there's nothing wrong wirh being an extrovert or an introvert. Honestly I don't even know why I brought thst up. It's just thst Mike and I often liked a lot of the same past times and I guess I put more importance on that than I should've. And I shouldn't have blasted thr fact shebwas a virgin all over the internet or the fact she made out wirh people years ago. Thst was private business and I shouldn't have said thst. And I shouldn't have forced her hand into telling strangers she likes topping or thst shebhas a packer in order to prove her transness.

It shouldn't have taken loterally hundreds maybe even a thousand asks ans people reblogging my posts for me to do this. Honestly I think I knew i was wrong before I even made this blog. I think I kind of hoped that AITA had deleted thr ask because it took so long to get answered. I thought writing terfs dni on my posts woild prevent them from messaging me because I knew that they would see me as a possible recruit based on what I was saying. I didn't want them to contact me but they have. I just thought if I could never ever see a terf agree with me that I could continue pretending that I wasn't being transphobic.

And since she's making posts I worry that she might tell everyone a couple things about me that honestly I do deserve but I just want to get it out there now: before I met her I got a crush on one of my teachers in high school. When he quit to move to another city I was devastated. I was 15 and I thought i was in love. So a month or so after he left o told my friends that he ans I had been having an affair. I didn't think it wpuld go anywhere else but one of them told the principal. The teacher nearly got fired for this, and even though I admitted the truth to the cops because the last thing I wanted was him to get in actual trouble, he ended up having to start over at a whole new school after only teaching at that other school on the new city for a month. At my school rumors spread that he and I actually did have an affair and I just backtracked because he threatened me or something but honestly that wasn't the case. I told her about this a few months before she came out as trans and she was obviously disappointed and disgusted in me and didn't speak to me for awhile and even told me to wait until she contacted me fordt befire tslking again. Another thing is that one time Mike pushed me really hard when we were all at his house because I put my hands in his hoody pocket and said "hey handsome" when we were in his kitchen alone even though he told me two times before not to do that. I did run out saying that a man should never hit a woman to all his friends in the living room and Anne immediately stood between me and him to protect me but he explained what happened and when Anne asked me if it was true, if i really had put my hands in his pockets again and said hey handsome, I shook my head at first then started crying and nodded and said it was true. They didn't speak to me for a VERY long time, honestly they told me several times after that i was on thin ice. I told them I had been drinking and maybe they still believe me but I am going to tell the truth now: I was sober.

I don't know how else to explain this and honestly just writing this out has made me realize what this looks like and that this is wrong and I need help, which Anne and Mike both have told me multiple times over and over very politely and I just never listened but I've never written anything out like this before so I've ever had to actually see it before, bur I genuinely thought that everything I did was like romantic. That if it were a movie or a book it wpuld be artistic and romantic. That Anne would be the bitchy narcissistic girlfriend that I discover is a horrible cheating abusive person and once I showed everyone the evidence Mike would leave her for me, and that if I got enough people to believe that's what really happened and that Mike was duped and tricked by her into cutting me out then even if I knew that it isn't what happened deep down I could convince myself that's what happened. Just like I've convinced myself we were still friends even though everyone had been slowly cutting me out little by little and the only reason we ever were friends is because I kept finding reasons to invite myself into things.

If she's reading this, I really, really am sorry, and I'm going to try and get some help. I dont know how else to tell you and especially Mike how sorry I am without breaching the restraining order. I've known for awhile I've fucked up, I think I even knew as I was doing this it was wrong, and I don't know why I kept digging my heels in even more. I'm just so sorry.

[zzoomacroom]

Rain Is Coming Down (Chapter 6)

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Dreamling, Retired Dream, Multi-chapter, Mpreg, Fluff, Smut, Angst

(Start from chapter 1 here)

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 6/12

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional tags: Retired Dream, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Trans Dream, Fluff, Smut, Angst

CONTENT WARNINGS for this chapter: brief panic attack/ptsd flashback, misogynistic and transphobic slurs, non-graphic violence, explicit sexual content

✨✨✨✨✨

Chapter 6: 26 Weeks - Part 2

The wooden bench creaks beneath him as Morpheus flops heavily into his seat at their table. The pub is lively this evening, but he would rather endure the noise and crowds than make the arduous trek back up the stairs at the moment.

“Save our seats and I’ll go and see what I can scrounge up from the kitchen, yeah? Back in a mo,” Hob says, giving Morpheus a quick peck on the cheek before slowly making his way across the packed room.

The former Dreamlord sits and watches the other patrons at the New Inn, some engaged in animated conversation while others appear more interested in the football game playing on the television above the bar. It is still a strange feeling, looking at these people and being unable to peer into their minds, being blind to their innermost fantasies. How irritating that he must now rely on facial expressions and abstruse human social cues in order to guess at what they might be thinking.

Perhaps it is poetic justice that in becoming human, Morpheus finds himself more disconnected from humanity than ever.

And yet, he has found it to be surprisingly… freeing. The realization that he is no longer burdened with carrying the hopes and fears of everyone in the room. It is lonely at times, yes, but it is a different sort of loneliness than what he felt during his imprisonment or, indeed, for the vast majority of his existence. He is never truly lonely now, he realizes. Now that he has Hob, now that he is—

“Murphy!” Suzanne exclaims, snapping him out of his reverie as she places a glass of ginger ale in front of him, as well as a pint of lager for Hob. “How are you, love? It’s been ages since you’ve been down! Everyone’s missed you.”

(Continue reading below or on ao3)

“No we haven’t,” says a familiar-looking bearded man at the next table. “Quiz nights are no fun with those two always winning.”

“Oh, hush, Keith,” Suzanne scoffs, pretending to swat at him with her notepad. “Not like you ever win either way; you thought the capital of Spain was Majorca, for pity’s sake.” She rolls her eyes as she turns back to Morpheus. “So, how’ve you been? You look fantastic. Robbie’s taking good care of you, I take it.”

“He is,” Morpheus replies, a smile spreading across his face. “I am well. Thank you, Suzanne.”

“I’m glad to hear it, love. I was starting to worry. What’ve you been doing up there, all cooped up? Getting lots of rest, I hope.”

Morpheus likes Suzanne. Like Hob, she is easy to talk to. He knows a little of her dreams, having first met her before his retirement. Mostly, she dreams of her family and hopes that they will always be safe and know that they are loved. Very rarely, she has nightmares—memories of things she endured, things no one should have to endure, but which ultimately led her to the greatest joys in her life. Morpheus can empathize.

“I have been painting. A mural, for the nursery. We also had a visit from my sister today,” he says.

“Oh, how nice! Didi, right? I remember her from the Christmas party. Has she got kids of her own?”

“No,” Morpheus replies, “but our niece and nephew refer to her as their ‘cool aunt.’”

“I’ll bet she is!” Suzanne laughs heartily. “I’m glad you have her. She seems like such a dear.”

“She is,” Morpheus agrees with an easy smile. “She has done… a great deal for me.”

“Wish I’d had someone like her when I was pregnant with Shannon,” Suzanne says. “I’m just glad I can be here for her now, and for you lads,” she adds, nodding towards Hob, who has just returned with a large, steaming platter of fish and chips. “Which reminds me, I’ve got another batch of Leo and Gracie’s old clothes and things for you.”

“I hope you know we insist on paying for those,” Hob remarks as he places the dish in the center of the table for the two of them to share.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favor just by getting them out of my flat,” Suzanne says with a wave of her notepad.

“Well then, at least let me go and pick them up,” Hob counters.

“Deal. But I still want to come up and see that mural!”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got to see it! It’s stunning!” Hob grins at Morpheus as he sits down across from him, giving him a sly wink before popping a chip into his mouth. Morpheus grins back, knowing full well that Hob will slip some cash into Suzanne’s handbag when she’s not looking.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you boys about,” Suzanne continues, suddenly earnest. Morpheus and Hob exchange uneasy glances; Morpheus wonders if this will be another lecture on the virtues of modern obstetrics. “I’d like to throw you a baby shower.”

Morpheus gulps. Hob bites his lip as he tries to stifle a laugh. Morpheus kicks him under the table. Hob schools his features, giving Morpheus a look that he interprets to mean ‘I’ll try and talk her out of it.'

“That’s incredibly sweet of you, Suze, but don’t trouble yourself,” Hob insists. “Can’t imagine we’d need one, what with everything you’ve given us.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Suzanne says, undeterred. “It’ll only be a small do, and we can have it here. Just the staff and any friends you want to bring. Oh, and bring your sister! I’ll make that chocolate cake you like.”

Hob looks at Morpheus again, raising his eyebrows. ‘Come on, dove, you know we can’t say no,' he conveys with those big, sparkling brown eyes that he knows very well Morpheus cannot resist.

“Thank you, Suzanne,” Morpheus finally grits out, hoping his smile doesn’t look too forced. “That sounds lovely.”

“Yeah, cheers, Suze,” Hob agrees. “You’re a gem.”

“Sure am. Dunno what you’d do without me,” she winks. “Right, I’ll leave you lads to it, then. I’d better get this lot their drinks before they start rioting,” she sighs as she marches back to the bar.

Morpheus slumps in his seat, picking forlornly at his chips. Hob gives him a pitying look and hooks his foot around Morpheus’ ankle. “It won’t be that bad, dove,” he says. “Thanks for being a good sport about it. You know it would’ve broken her heart if we’d said no.”

“Two baby showers. Two. This is egregious,” Morpheus mutters. Hob’s mouth twitches as he makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face, and Morpheus finds his own twisting into a smile in spite of his best efforts to maintain his sullen pout. “You mock my misfortune, Hob Gadling?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux indignation. 

He snatches the piece of fish that Hob was reaching for and stuffs it into his mouth, both to underscore his petulance and to smother the treacherous wheeze of laughter that was dangerously close to spilling out.

“Oh, poor you,” Hob chuckles, looking smugly triumphant at his husband’s reaction. “What dreadful misfortune, having so many people who love you that they’re throwing two separate parties in your honor. You know—”

Hob does not finish his thought as there is a sudden commotion near the bar. A shout, followed by a deafening shatter of glass. Morpheus goes still. He shivers, despite it being uncomfortably warm in the crowded pub. Everything sounds muffled and distant, like he is behind a thick layer of glass. He can feel it again. The glass, the iron, closing in on him, he cannot…

“Darling? Darling, are you—” Hob’s voice cuts through the noise as he turns away from the source of clamor and back to Morpheus, his eyes widening in concern. And oh, it is so loud, and Morpheus wants to go home, but he cannot move, and—

“—No! No, you need to leave. Trust me, mate, you do not want to get the owner involved.” Suzanne’s voice rings out, booming and steely and surprisingly intimidating. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she adds grimly, catching Hob’s eye as he rises from his chair.

“Hob—”

“Wait here,” Hob tells Morpheus, and before he can protest his husband is striding across the room, a look of flinty determination in his eyes that Morpheus has only seen once before. It sends another shiver down his spine, for rather different reasons this time.

From where Morpheus sits, he can see his husband approaching a belligerent and obviously drunk man who has crowded Suzanne into a corner. She glares defiantly up at him as he shouts obscenities at her, swaying on his feet all the while. “I already told you—you bitch,” he hiccups, slurring his words, “’m not leavin’ ‘til I talk to the owner.”

The room has gone silent. Everyone in the pub has turned towards the bar, riveted on the scene as it unfolds. Alan, the barman, wrings his hands nervously as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, apparently unsure as to whether he should step in. Toni and Ethan have emerged from the kitchen, still holding their knife and spatula, respectively, and looking as though they hope they will not need to use them to defend themselves. The New Inn is not the sort of establishment that frequently sees this sort of disorderly conduct, and everyone seems to be at a loss for what to do.

Everyone except Hob.

“I’m the owner, and you’re leaving now,” Hob announces sternly, grabbing the man (who is considerably larger than himself) by the shoulder and pulling him away from Suzanne.

“Get your fuckin’ ‘ands off me, mate! I haven’t done nothin’ wrong,” the man growls, shoving Hob backwards. Morpheus jumps to his feet almost involuntarily, but finds himself riveted to the spot where he stands, unable to move closer to the fray.

“He started spouting off a load of words I’m not going to repeat,” Suzanne interjects, “and when I asked him to leave he knocked all the glasses off the bar like a bloody toddler.”

“Yeah, you’re done here. Out. Now,” Hob barks, pointing to the door.

The man scoffs and smirks as he raises his hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. “Fine by me,” he sneers, looking Morpheus dead in the eye and jabbing his chin in his direction. “Too many freaks and trannies here for my taste anyway.”

Morpheus has no time to react to these words before there’s a loud, dull thwack, and the man is clutching his cheek and staggering backwards into a table. Morpheus only realizes belatedly that Hob must have punched him.

The pub goes silent. Then, all at once, there is a cacophony of whispers and shouts and everything in between as the denizens of the New Inn turn their fury on the man who interrupted their evening.

“You get ‘im, Robbie!” someone calls out.

“Yeah, that was well out of order, mate,” says another onlooker.

“Does he know he’s his husband?” hisses a blonde woman seated next to Keith.

A cold trickle of… something snakes its way through Morpheus’ veins as he stands there, torn between rushing to his husband’s side and remaining where he is for the sake of the baby’s safety. Is it shame that he feels? Anger, humiliation…? Yes. All of those, and perhaps some other things. But he cannot deliberate on them now, because the drunk man is stumbling back to his feet and raising his fist and—

“Hob—!” Morpheus cries, only realizing that his legs apparently do work after all when he is halfway across the room. His own words from centuries past ring in his head. ‘You can be hurt, or captured.' He reaches his husband faster than should be possible in his current state, propelled by equal amounts of rage and fear.

Morpheus reaches instinctively for his sand before remembering that—oh. Right. He is completely helpless now. Useless.

But Hob is still as capable as ever. He catches the man’s fist and deftly twists his arm around, pinning it behind his back. “Get the fuck out of my pub before I get my broadsword,” he snarls as he shoves the man towards the exit.

The man yelps and shambles clumsily to the door, and just as he is reaching for the handle, Hob seizes him by the collar and yanks him around to look him in the eye.

An uneasy murmur ripples through the room. The drunk man looks as terror-stricken as he would have had Morpheus unleashed his most vicious nightmares upon him.

“If you ever come near my husband or my family again, I’ll fucking—” Hob rages at the man, his teeth bared and his speech lapsing into an archaic dialect. Morpheus understands the threats of dismemberment and desecration of the man’s corpse, but to other observers it must sound like the garbled ravings of a lunatic (which may actually be less disturbing than what Hob is saying).

Morpheus has never seen his husband this angry before, and it is. Alarming. What is also alarming is how aroused he has become; he is glad that he wore black today, as he can feel the growing wetness in his underwear gradually seeping through the fabric of his joggers.

There is a loud thump as the back of the man’s head hits the door, Hob’s fists still clenched in the front of his shirt. Morpheus and Suzanne reach them at the same time and drag Hob away from the man by the shoulders.

“Hob—!” Morpheus begins.

“Robbie, that’s enough!” Suzanne yells at the same moment. “You’ve made your point, now let him go!”

Hob deflates under their hands. He turns around, glancing between Morpheus, Suzanne, and the crowd of wide-eyed spectators. He is breathing hard and he looks rather foggy and far away, his eyes glazed and his hands shaking.

The drunk man bolts out the door as soon as Hob turns his back, and a few of the patrons make noises of approval, though most are still sitting in stunned silence.

“Good riddance!” Keith calls out, and the blonde woman beside him—Helen, his wife, as Morpheus recalls—nods in vehement agreement.

Suzanne immediately returns to the bar with broom and mop, directing Alan to help her with the mess. She goes on with her work as if she is entirely unruffled by the whole affair, though Morpheus can see the way her hands tremble ever so slightly as she sweeps up jagged shards of glass.

Hob blinks, looking down at Morpheus’ hand on his shoulder and then up at his frowning face. The bewilderment in his eyes is gradually replaced by a look of profound shame and remorse. He hangs his head and sighs. “Please don’t be angry,” he mumbles, his voice thin and flat as he rubs his knuckles, which are already starting to bruise. “I know, I know… pot, kettle, and all.”

Morpheus opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. It had not occurred to him to be angry with Hob. Perhaps he should be, but the only anger he feels is for the man who just fled the pub. He is filled with a variety of competing emotions right now, but anger is surprisingly not one of the stronger contestants. He is relieved that Hob is safe. He is… touched, he supposes. And pleased. That Hob defended him, that Suzanne and everyone else sided with him.

But beneath that is the guilt—Hob defended him. He hurt that man and himself, and forced everyone in the pub to witness it, because of Morpheus. Morpheus, who cannot defend himself or his husband as he should, who put his child in harm’s way because he was too foolish to see his own weakness.

And beneath that, simmering and throbbing low in his belly, is a raging, nigh-overpowering inferno of pure lust.

He is still staring at Hob, who peers up at Morpheus with a sad smile of resignation. Morpheus does not know what to say. Something is about to erupt from him, but he does not know which of the warring feelings will emerge victorious until he is grasping Hob’s face with both hands and kissing him desperately right there in the middle of the pub. He licks into Hob’s mouth, burrowing in like he intends to make a home there, and Hob lets out a surprised little whimper as he opens eagerly for him, his hands coming up to clutch at Morpheus’ shirt and reel him closer.

It would seem they both forgot about their audience, as they startle back from each other when the pub explodes into raucous cheers, applause, and wolf whistles. Hob starts to giggle hysterically, shaking his head as his cheeks redden, and Morpheus hides his irrepressible grin in the crook of his husband’s neck.

When he looks up to meet his eyes, Hob has a knowing smirk on his face. “Don’t even say it,” he warns, with precisely none of the authority he carried just minutes ago. Morpheus decides to show him mercy. He says nothing, merely kisses him again until they are both gasping for breath.

“Get a room, you two!” someone laughs.

“Right!” Hob calls out, clapping his hands together as he glances around the pub. “We’re closing early, everybody out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Suzanne huffs, propping her elbows on the now-clean bar. “Just go home, you berks. We’ll be fine down here until closing time.”

“Are you sure?” Hob asks, sounding doubtful. “Suze, what if he comes back? What if the police show up? I can’t just leave—”

“Robbie, love, you misunderstand me. I’m kicking you out,” Suzanne interrupts. “Before you do something really indecent. I don’t think that scumbag will be back. And if the cops come round,” she adds, raising her voice to command the attention of everyone in the pub, “the owner wasn’t in today and none of us heard anything about a fight.”

There’s a distracted murmur of agreement throughout the room as the patrons turn back to their drinks and their football match, apparently ready to be done with the spectacle and move on with their evening. Morpheus shares their sentiments. He takes Hob’s hand and drags him toward the stairs with single-minded purpose.

“Alright, but call me if anything goes wrong, yeah?” Hob says hurriedly, glancing back as he is towed helplessly away. “And text me later so I know you got home safe!”

The journey upstairs and to the bedroom does not even register in Morpheus’ mind; everything feels rather surreal just now. Dreamlike. One moment they are in the pub, and the next they are standing beside their bed, having apparently already shed their clothing.

“… You with me, dove?” Hob is asking him, his hand on Morpheus’ cheek and his head tilted in concern.

“Yes,” Morpheus says, blinking as he comes back to himself.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

He needs… he needs. Full stop. He needs Hob, needs to touch him, needs to feel him inside and know that he is there, that he is real, that they are both alive and safe and loved and wanted and…

“You,” Morpheus replies finally, pulling Hob close and kissing him voraciously. He leads them backwards, his hands on Hob’s hips, until Hob falls back onto the bed. Morpheus breaks the kiss only long enough to crawl into his husband’s lap, fumbling blindly for the lube on the bedside table and knocking the alarm clock and Hob’s reading glasses to the floor. “I need to feel you. Everywhere,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Morpheus hastily uncaps the bottle with one hand, letting the other roam over Hob’s body, burying his fingers in luxuriant hair and sinking his nails into warm, yielding flesh. He kisses and bites his way down his neck while reaching behind himself to press a slick finger to his entrance. It is slightly challenging at this angle, and he struggles momentarily before Hob catches on to what he is doing, his eyes widening and his face darkening with arousal.

“Let me help you with that, darling,” Hob says, taking the lube and pouring a generous amount on his fingers.

He grabs Morpheus by the hip with his other hand, steadying him as he circles one finger around his rim. Morpheus gasps at the cool, wet sensation and tightens his grip on Hob’s shoulders. Hob works him open quickly but gently, pausing intermittently to palm at Morpheus’ sopping wet cunt, smearing and spreading his arousal down to his hole and making a sloppy, squelching mess of both of them.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Hob pants. “Probably could have done it even without the lube.”

“Enough,” Morpheus rumbles, pushing Hob down to lie on his back and positioning himself over his hips. “I am ready,” he breathes as he guides himself onto his husband’s cock.

His eyes flutter shut and his moans, loud and wanton, mingle with Hob’s as he sinks down. They have not had anal sex in this manner since before the pregnancy, and they both take a moment to acclimate to the sensation. They are silent, save for their ragged breathing, and when he opens his eyes Morpheus sees his husband gazing reverently up at him, a look of awe in his tear-glazed eyes.

Morpheus takes one of Hob’s hands (the cleaner of the two), and without breaking eye contact he brings it to his mouth, slowly sucking on his fingers before pushing his arm down between his legs. Hob takes his cue and slides two fingers into Morpheus’ cunt, scissoring them and pressing into his g-spot. Morpheus hums pleasurably and begins to rock slowly, then gasps when Hob adds a third finger while simultaneously pressing his thumb to Morpheus’ clit. It is an awkward position for Hob, and Morpheus’ belly is an obstacle, but neither of them are deterred as Morpheus increases his pace and begins to ride Hob’s cock and fingers.

Morpheus shudders in relief at the feeling of fullness, and he bends forward to gain better leverage, resting his swollen midsection on Hob’s arm and bracing his hands on his chest as he bounces furiously. It’s fast and frantic, urgent and desperate, and Morpheus whines in frustration that he cannot be any closer to Hob than this. That he cannot, as he once could, take all of Hob’s being into himself, cannot merge the two of them together until they are one perfect, infinite entity.

“It’s alright, love. I’ve got you,” Hob soothes. “Take what you need.”

And Morpheus does. He takes all he can, and Hob offers it up eagerly. It is not enough, it is never enough, but Morpheus gluts himself on his husband’s body until he is as sated as this form will allow. He thinks of the first time Hob fought and defended him, the way he had wanted to do exactly this (well, perhaps a variation, with a slightly different body). He had wanted so badly it burned, and now he gets to have this. And he will not let anyone or anything take it away. So he grasps and clutches with both hands and he takes and takes and takes.

“So beautiful,” Hob purrs, trailing his free hand up Morpheus’ stomach and thumbing at his nipple. “Love you so fucking much.”

Morpheus sobs as he comes, his legs shaking and his fingers curling tightly into the hair on Hob’s sweaty, heaving chest. His vision blurs and tears stream down his face, and Hob wails as he floods Morpheus’ insides with a copious rush of hot seed. Morpheus shivers in ecstasy, his own orgasm still pulsing through him.

Hob takes his fingers away and maneuvers Morpheus by the hips to pull his softening cock from his hole. Morpheus weeps at the sudden emptiness; it is not enough, he has not had his fill of Hob. He needs more.

He shifts forward slightly, straddling his husband’s plush waist and grinding his clit against the forest of coarse hair below his navel. The slick from his cunt mingles with the warm rivulet of lubricant and cum that trickles from his hole, forming a veritable puddle on Hob’s stomach as Morpheus ruts frenziedly against him. Hob is looking up at him softly when he comes again, his eyes heavy-lidded and his mouth hanging open in wonder.

Neither of them speak as Morpheus rolls over and collapses beside Hob, curling up against him once Hob has given them a cursory wipe-down with a clean towel from the stack they’ve taken to keeping next to the bed. They remain silent, catching their breath as they rest in each other’s arms, and Morpheus is glad for it. Today has been utterly exhausting—physically, mentally, and emotionally—and he has no energy to discuss it now.

Later, when he regains his composure, he must express to Hob… everything. He does not know. He cannot formulate the words now. His love, his gratitude, how much it means to him that Hob is always ready to defend him without a second thought. Hob is aware of all of this, he knows, but he feels it all so strongly now, and it is so… vexing. That he only has this body and his paltry words with which to articulate himself. That he cannot simply give Hob a dream that conveys the inexpressible depths of his affection.

He is so much less than he used to be. And yet still Hob loves him, still fights for him even though he is too weak to fight for himself.

The muted roar of activity from downstairs, usually a comforting presence in the background, only exacerbates Morpheus’ distress at the moment. Words from earlier echo through his head.

Freak. Tranny.

So this is how he is perceived, now that he has no say in whether or not he is perceived at all.

Yet still Hob loves him.

“I’m sorry.”

Hob’s voice, wet and quavering, comes so softly that it takes Morpheus a moment to realize he spoke, and another to understand what he is apologizing for.

“About earlier. I shouldn’t have hit that lad,” Hob clarifies.

“Do not be sorry, my love,” Morpheus says emphatically. “You were in the right.”

“See, but it’s fucked up that we both thought that,” Hob argues. “Mo, I shouldn’t have done that. What he said, what he did—it was completely inexcusable, but… He was leaving, and I attacked him. I just… lost control. And I’m so sorry.” He puts a hand over his face and sighs. “I’m going to get a handle on this before the baby comes, I swear.”

“Hob. Look at me,” Morpheus implores, taking Hob’s hand from his face and holding it in his own. His knuckles have bruised a deep plum, and it only occurs to Morpheus now that their activities a few minutes ago cannot have helped. “Oh. I have hurt you,” he murmurs, peering into Hob’s red-rimmed eyes and bringing his hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle tenderly.

“No, love. No,” Hob insists, fresh tears welling up in his eyes as he brings his other hand up to cover Morpheus’. “None of this is on you. This was all me and my stupid bloody anger issues.”

“Hob, I trust you with my life. And with our child’s life. I know that you would never turn your anger on either of us.”

“But what if I do?” Hob whispers shakily, sounding genuinely terrified. It breaks Morpheus’ heart to see him so distraught.

“You will not,” he replies. It is the truth, Morpheus is certain of it. He knows, of course, of Hob’s violent past—knows better than anyone, perhaps, save for Hob himself. And he knows that his husband would sooner rescind his immortality than harm his family. It is not that Hob is a violent man by nature; he is a passionate man, one who loves fiercely and would tear the world apart to save those he loves. He is a better man than Morpheus, who would have done far worse to that man in the pub had he still had the power of nightmares at his disposal. 

“You will not, beloved,” Morpheus repeats, cradling him closer and soothing his hand absently up and down his back.

“Alright,” Hob says weakly. “I won’t. Promise.”

“You should put some ice on your hand,” Morpheus mumbles.

“I will, later. Let’s just get some sleep, yeah? Been a hell of a day.”

Morpheus yawns in agreement as he nestles into Hob’s side. They lie there in silence, neither succumbing to the lure of the Dreaming despite their weariness.

When Morpheus finally drifts off, it is a restless half-sleep scattered with disjointed scraps of nightmares. Massive hands enfold him in a sphere of cold, bone-white flesh. Peeking through the cracks between the fingers, he sees Hob in the distance. He carries a sword and his face is bloodied, his jaw set in grim resolve. The hands hold Morpheus aloft, just out of Hob’s reach, lifting him higher and higher until he is face to face with himself, vast and terrible.

The dream ends.

✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, as well as kudos and comments on ao3 are always appreciated! 💗💗💗

[monscrow]

intro post, i guess!!!

⚠️flash warning for blinkies at the bottom⚠️

free gaza, free palestine, stop genocide. you don't agree? block me.

i go by both mons and crow.

pfp by 00violens !!! tysm for drawing my child orion as party poison 😭🫶🫶🫶

my pronouns are they/them, he/him and any neos/xenos that you think would fit either comedically or off of vibes.

i'm a minor !!!

aroace, something like that; qprs are sick asf and all hail relationship anarchy.

super amazing pretty boyfriend !!!<3 🍎

audhdcd (asd + adhd + ocd 😻😋) and hEDS. i use tonetags.

bday is oct 7. 🎉🎉🎉

i'm mexican!! i speak both spanish and english.

timezone is cst/utc-6.

i say slurs i can reclaim (mainly the f and t queer ones) and swear a lot, though if that makes you uncomfortable please either block me or lmk so i can try to tone it down when around you.

i love interacting!! feel free to tag me in stuff, send some asks (be it on anon or not), or message me! moots can ask for my discord even if we've never actually talked before. though i suck at keeping consistent, nothing personal i promise</3 /gen

i tend to spam-reblog so do with that information what you will.

hyperfixations/interests/things i'm passionate about !!! i guess, kinda

→ mcr (+ most of the members' solo projects)

→ killjoys (california + national anthem, but mainly calif and fanon)

→ demolition lovers lore (i have literally written like at least three different essays about it for school help me i'm so serious)

→ emo/alt/diy culture

→ will wood

→ bandom in general

→ graphic design, arts and crafts, illustration (that's right y'all graphic design IS my passion 😔)

→ fnaf

→ cosplay/costume-making

→ d&d

→ crows (no way, crow, really???)

→ australian shepherds

→ the umbrella academy (s4 isn't canon in my heart + currently reading the comics !!! )

→ gravity falls

→ neurodivergencies/psychology/disabilities (this one's pretty meta ngl)

→ lgbtqia+ identities (emphasis on the aroace-spec ones + relationship anarchy)

→ politics/activism

→ linguistics + conlangs

→ fantasy in general (high fantasy, magic, vampires, tieflings, you name it)

→ boardgames

→ uhhhh there's more but i don't remember rn, i'll keep adding as i see fit (probably... maybe..... perhaps....... quizás........ puede ser..........)

dni

terfs, transphobes, anti lgbtqia+, exclusionists, ableists, racists, you know the drill. this blog is run by a very neurodivergent, mentally ill, mexican, transmasc, aroace faggot, and any kind of hatred will not be tolerated.

proshippers/anti-antis, irl gore, pro-israel, pro-ai generated "content", pro-nft, non-critical media consumers, classists, ed blogs, sh blogs.

also, i'm aware that dnis tend to not be effective and i probably will still get shitty ppl in my inbox so i can and will block. though im p chill as long as you're chill so we vibin'

blinkies made with blinkies cafe !!!

last updated 23/september/2024

[talisidekick]

u should post more about being trans

Sure. And I have a recent life story so here it goes:

If you've spent any amount of time scrolling down my blog, you know that from my 800+ posts I've dropped quite a bit about myself. Namely that my parents emotionally and physically abused me and manipulated me to act a very specific way to adhere to a "look" that agreed with my birth mothers families expectations. They wanted a daughter and got my sister first try, and only had me to teach her to share. Their treatment of me my entire life and how they admitted to it and talked about me let me know I was just a show-piece for their perfect cult christian/catholic/mormon nuclear family vibe.

As such, I can say that I have never once experienced what parental love actually feels like. What it's like to be loved unconditionally by a parent who cares. That wasn't my life.

At least ... that was true up until yesterday.

If you're unaware of what's been happening up in Canada in the last week (from 18th September 2023 to 22nd September 2023), the transphobes up here held a "1 Million March for Children" protest about public schools being gender inclusive, teaching topics on gender identity and gender expression, and allowing kids to give preferred names and pronouns that teachers abide by without parental involvement. If you're unfamiliar with Canada's laws, Canada has ratified the "rights of the child" set forth by the United Nations and children under the age of 18 up here have civil rights including the right to privacy and safety. These protests attempt to say a parent has the right to know everything going on with their kid, and there is some degree of agreement on that, but a child also has the right to privacy and safety. This group is pushing for policy changes in public schools that would require the schools take actions that can be argued would infringe on the rights of the 2SLGBTQIA+ children regarding their privacy and safety. As such, this transphobic group met opposition that vastly outnumbered their protest numbers in the form of counter protests involving students, teachers, parents, allies, and 2SLGBTQIA+ adults who passed through a less-than-accepting school system in their time.

I unfortunately missed the organized protest in my city yesterday. I was entirely unaware myself that any of this was happening. I'm now working on being more active and informed in my community because now that this bullshit is firmly on my doorstep, I'm not about to let it gain another inch by being oblivious.

When I came out, I was 27. I waited until I was on hormones just because I needed to be 1000% certain I was finally doing this before letting anyone in my workspace know. I was met immediately with transphobia from my team lead/manager. I was honestly stuck with what to do because it wasn't like she (my manager) was being overtly terrible, it was just a bunch of small things that were actively impeding my ability to do my job, and even move departments. It became more apparent as time went on that she was actively preventing me from reaching my normal level of production by throwing harder and harder work my way with much higher expectations than ever before. I reached out to another co-worker who was in a higher position than I at the time and she went to bat for me. She caught a lot of it first hand, agreed I was being treated unfairly, and got me in contact with HR. With her help, I was able to move to the IT department and begin using my software and computer architecture degree for something. She remarked that my parents must be proud I was finally in my chosen field of study and ... I had to let her know that my parents weren't in my life, and that they treated me terribly, and don't approve of me. She took that statement and without missing a beat she said: "well, guess that makes me your mom now", which I just took as a "if they won't love you for who you are and what you achieve, I will" symbolic gesture. She's called me her kid in casual conversation, and I have called her mom, but she has biological children around my age so it felt symbolic. I'm a 29 year old adult now, I was 27 at the time this started and I didn't think much of it because I kind of just accepted I was a person who'll never have parents who care. Like, I'm not a kid anymore, what's the point of having parents? That was my mentality.

Until yesterday. The day of the counter protest I didn't know was happening. My adopted mom showed up in force. Why? Take a look:

Some context for the following messages: when an iPhone user hearts a message, and android receiver gets the "Loved "<First 50 characters of the message reacted to> ..." message.

[Start ID: Screenshots of a text message conversation between @talisidekick and her mother who adopted her at 27. Conversation spans over Sunday and Monday. First photo reads: (8:12 PM Sunday) Mom: ... me about it. It was due to something that happened Wednesday. This was all put together in a matter of days. I have a trans child so I wanted to be there (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: Just confirming, is the "trans child" me or is one of your other kids trans? (7:00 AM Monday) Talisidekick: 'Cause I still call you mom. (7:18 AM Monday) Mom: No it's you (8:10 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for me made me smile so wide... (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I uh ... don't know why the fact you showed up for..." (8:10 AM Monday) Mom: Because you know I've got your back my luv

Second photo reads:

(8:11 AM Monday) Talisidekick: ... I really wish you were my mom when I was growing up. You're honestly the best. (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "... I really wish you were my mom when I was growi..." (8:12 AM Monday) Mom: I wish I was too! You would have been accepted for who you are the entire time (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: But you got me now! (8:13 AM Monday) Talisidekick: I do, and that matters loads. (8:13 AM Monday) Mom: Loved "I do, and that matters loads."

/end ID]

I'm in tears because she wasn't being symbolic. She sees me as her kid. She saw a problem, recognized that I'd lived through worse because we've talked how many times I was almost killed by my peers at school or left to die by teacher staff because where I grew up was conservative and we didn't have anything in the books supporting queer children in schools, and showed up to be part of the solution.

For reference from those who don't know: someone made a cruel remark that I was gay via a slur when I was in grade 3 and that was enough to mark me for abuse, and almost kill me for the entirety of grade school. There was more than one active attempt by members of the student body to kill me, at least one in front of a teacher who did nothing because of that damn rumour. And trying to kill me wasn't the worst thing they did. They didn't care I was actually transgender, in fact, them not knowing that probably saved me from them trying harder. I couldn't bring any of this to my parents because they were worse.

No child deserves to live any fraction of what I went through. It was horrible, and these assholes want to force kids to feel just as isolated as I did growing up. I barely survived and almost took my own life several times because of all this.

Mom, if you happen to read this, thank you for showing me I matter. I wish I'd met you sooner.

Trans rights are human rights. Transgender kids deserve safety too because every damn child matters.

[taylortruther]

i need some advice, rae. my 12-year old cousin has been red-pilled, i think. he went from being a sweet, friendly boy last year to saying misogynistic, transphobic things and treating his younger sister like dirt. maybe it is puberty or his peers or something but the transphobic stuff and the fact that constantly talks about youtubers has me thinking it is tha

and idk obviously i told his parents. his dad is an a-grade asshole though, paternalistic and controlling. who yelled at me for interfering. he is unfortunately the person my cousin looks up to. his parents didn’t cut-off internet access cause he needs it for school. idk the whole situation is so fucked. i’m so deeply worried about my cousin sister who is stuck in that house with her father and now her brother. do you have any advice on how to get through to him? has this happened to someone you know? wtf are you supposed to do

gosh anon i really don't have much advice or experience here. do you live in the same area? i think the best way to "get through" to a kid is to spend quality time with them and be another older figure they can look up to. he has way more pressures/influences than just his home (although his parents are huge ones), he has the internet, his peers, the misogynistic world, etc. so you have to accept that there is only so much you can do.

i guess i would talk to his parents again, and express concerns about specific things you've seen him say/believe. you are very unlikely to make headway, but his parents might be receptive if you just share your concern and leave it at that. i'm imagining how, in the future, they might come to agree with you and might share that with you. but i wouldn't hold my breath.

so really i guess i would say, spend time with him, try to be another influence - introduce him to activities or hobbies his parents and the redpill internet wouldn't. but also, spend time with his sister, too, because it sounds like she's getting treated like crap. you can see she is being treated poorly, so spend time with her too, check in on her.

i think kids respond best to adults being there, relating to them, not lecturing or trying to 'teach them' something, if that makes sense.

[gentle-giant-swag]

Hello! Before I continue with the new bracket. I have to say something.

Block accounts @/mysteriesofmilo @/mysteriesofmarcy @/ireblogthetruth @/mysterycharacterbracket

More info under the cut

MAJOR CONTENT WARNING for transphobia in this post

My cat before I continue

So this summer, mysterycharacterbracket was confirmed to be transphobic and pro life. They deleted all of the posts about it. But there are eye witnesses and screenshots of the things they said here, here, and here

Well I’m going to bring up that conversation again. I have a second poll account @dumbass-duo-showdown, which between may and September. Had two homophobic and transphobic accounts interact with me, the first one is called @/mysteriesofmilo I guess it was because I had Dofenshmirtz in the bracket (it was a dad bracket). And for pride month they reblogged a post I made with a Bible quote going “pride goes before the fall”. They actively knew I had character from media with lgbtq characters (dream daddy, sailor moon, ok-ko, psychonauts). I even pointed it out to them.

Well after the rebranding, I went “hey, I’m bisexual and a trans ally. So I don’t want you to be you know a bigot around here” then a new account came, called @/ireblogthetruth. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TRANSPHOBIC MATERIAL JUST BLOCK AND REPORT THAT ACCOUNT. DO NOT EVEN TRY TO LOOK AT THEIR STUFF. Saying some extremely transphobic stuff and telling me to find Jesus. Actively approaching someone who says they’re safe for EVERYONE and saying bigoted stuff followed by “Jesus is always there for you” is rubbing salt on the wound. Luckily enough my mututal came to my defense to help me and I ended up blocking the account.

I blocked all these accounts. But well I still check up on them. I just don’t want them to interact with me.

I’m now entering speculative territory. Everything i say might be false. But that doesn’t mean that they are piece of shit humans. Block them and report because we can’t have someone who’s so transphobic on that app.

Look at the pfp/header. It’s the same owner probably. Mysterycharacterbracket and mysteriesofmilo might and probably are the same person

I am pretty sure Mysteriesofmilo and ireblogthetruth are the same. And I do have some proof outside of the headers. First, they @ed my second poll account and not this one. Second, ireblogthetruth are very much with TERFs on the whole transphobic thing. Actively agreeing with J.Ks transphobia while going “I’m not a feminist,” is something very common with right wing transphobes.

In a deleted post, mysterycharacterbracket went “I’m not a terf, I am not a radical feminist”

And in a now deleted post, when mysterycharacterbracket is asked about what happened. They start talking about their faith despite labeling trans people as mentally ill. Who else would uses religion as an inherent cure for being trans? The other account.

Who is pro gun? Both of them

Now, the mysteriesofmilo (and mysteriesofmarcy) is known within the Dampyverse Tumblr community for being a piece of shit. Saying transphobic stuff about the creators child.

Both of the accounts are aware that mysterycharacterbracket is blacklisted from tournament tumblr. So maybe that’s why mysteriesofmilo used third person pronouns to refer to them.

Because hey isn’t it a funny coincidence that there’s two transphobic, pro gun, Christians, who are both a fan of Marcy Wu from amphibia? ISNT IT!

To finish this off. Block all of those accounts and report. They have used transphobic slurs. We can’t actively have a rampant transphobe be on tumblr.

That’s all. Hope everyone has a great weekend

Have some photos of my families cat

[gay-otlc]

(no sure if my previous message got sent so i’ll just retype a shorter version here)

Hey, I saw that you hid/deleted my comments and blocked me, so I want to apologise if my arguments came as too harsh or agressive. I did not mean to hurt you and I mean you no harm. I was just really upset that agreeing with an anti sexist rhetoric caused me to be called transphobic when this is something I am completely against. Not sure you read every replies I wrote because I was also discussing with other folks in the section but I was saying that even if Terfs may use that rhetoric against trans people, we shouldn’t give it to them and allow them to reclaim it.

Your argument can be turned around by saying that on the other hand, both trans men and trans women can be victims of misogyny based on how they are perceived and can suffer from sexist violence. The bear thing is purposely exaggerated and extreme because its point is to catch attention and to be shocking. Of course it can lead to deeper conversations and reflections later on, but the priority is to point out sexism and violence against women. At the moment, men are the oppressor, since our society is patriarchal, and women are oppressed. Asking women to stop hating or fearing their oppressor will do nothing to help them stop being oppressed. I understand your sentiments and it’s great that you are fighting for trans people to not end up with that rhetoric used against them. But this was not the idea behind the original topic. Of course we can open up a discussion about this but it shouldn’t be overstepping on women’s attempts to denounce what they go through. Terfs are terrible people and will hide behind feminist arguments but we can’t let them reclaim all of these arguments and let them turn them into transphobic ideas because we would be giving them what they want by letting them become some spokesperson for feminism. Most women who agreed with the bear thing were not carrying any ill sentiment against trans people. Because that wasn’t what the topic was about. But I appreciate that you added another post and explained yourself more, and I am sorry that the discussion became a heated argument and that I got a bit too emotional.

I wish you well and hope you have a nice day.

I don't think I got your previous message (Unless you were this person? But you're a lot politer than them so I'm going to guess not)

I was also very upset at the time, which was definitely hindering my ability to have a productive conversation with you. I apologize for that.

To be clear, again, I don't think saying "bear" makes you as an individual transphobic- just that the sort of rhetoric present in the "man vs bear" discussion is very similar to the rhetoric that gets used against trans people.

I fully agree with the idea that too many women, and too many people in general, have been victims of violence from men. That it's horrible for so many people to have been traumatized in such a way that they don't feel safe around men. My problem is that this conversation frames men* as the worst possible threat. Not everyone who says "bear" feels this way, but a majority of them do

*or really, people who are presumed to be men based on appearance, because no one is going around asking strangers "excuse me, what's your gender identity?" before they decide whether or not they feel safe

even if Terfs may use that rhetoric against trans people, we shouldn’t give it to them and allow them to reclaim it

The thing is, this perception of men (or "men") as the ultimate threat isn't something we are "giving to" TERFs- it is already a foundational part of their beliefs. You can read further about some common TERF talking points here.

Your argument can be turned around by saying that on the other hand, both trans men and trans women can be victims of misogyny based on how they are perceived and can suffer from sexist violence

Yes! Absolutely! Both trans men and trans women, as well as other sorts of trans people, very much do suffer from sexist violence, and this might cause them to feel unsafe around (people they perceive to be) men just like many cis women do.

That doesn't contradict my point that trans people also suffer from anti-man rhetoric.

Of course it can lead to deeper conversations and reflections later on, but the priority is to point out sexism and violence against women.

Pointing out sexism and violence against women is absolutely an important thing! I do think it can be done without treating men/people perceived as men as inherently dangerous though.

Asking women to stop hating or fearing their oppressor will do nothing to help them stop being oppressed.

Obviously we shouldn't stop fighting misogyny because everything will be solved if women just stop hating men, or anything. But I do still want women to stop hating men. "Misandry, as I see it, can never reliably be prevented from collapsing into transphobia." (Not "misandry" as in a form of systemic oppression equivalent to misogyny, but as in the literal "hatred of men.")

Most women who agreed with the bear thing were not carrying any ill sentiment against trans people. Because that wasn’t what the topic was about

Even if the topic wasn't directly about transphobia- "man vs bear" is closely related to the belief that men/perceived as men are the worst possible danger, which is closely related to transphobia.

I don't think all women who say "bear" are transphobic, consciously or even unconsciously, or that they need to change their answer or else they hate trans people.

However, I don't think it's unreasonable to act people to reflect on their internal biases, and on how the way they perceive men may relate to transphobia.

Thank you for the chance to have a civil conversation about this, I wish you well too

[splinnters]

PUH-LEASE do Transmasc!Jay!!!! He's my absolute favorite, and I can't help but think he's trans (totally unrelated to me also being trans ;])

Thank you <333333

-your loyal anon

yeahhhh!!! I'm so glad someone asked this jay has those vibes So Bad (also unrelated to me also ALSO being trans)

transmasc jay pride month headcanons!

Jay has the classic trans guy story: when he was little, he was very upset by the fact he couldn't go to the bathroom the same way his dad did. he got the sonic mcdonalds toy instead of the sofia the first toy, he refused to wear any color except blue for a year straight, and he called multiple people stupid when they called him a girl. his parents, after some hesitation, tried raising him as a boy, and within a few months they knew it was the right decision

Jay had a phase in which he LOVED bird watching and would force his parents to go on long hikes with him outside of the yard to find different birds. his favorite was the blue jay, so he named himself after it (and his parents had to convince him not to add the "blue" part to his legal documents)

he didn't think too hard about it as a kid since it all came naturally to him. he just took his meds (aka puberty blockers) and wore the clothes he liked and he got to be called Jay now!

then as he got older and travelled more outside the yard, he realized that he was in a less than common situation. since he was pretty closed off from the rest of the world, he started to wonder if he was the only one who felt like his sex didn't match his gender

he tried to push those thoughts away and continued his transition by starting testosterone when he was around 15. he adopted a peppy and loud personality to shut out his depressive thoughts (and occasionally to drown out a transphobe)

by the time he joined the ninja, it was virtually impossible to tell that Jay was trans. he never developed a chest or got periods because of the puberty blockers and then hormone therapy he received. while his voice was sort of high, it wasn't girly, and he introduced himself as Jay Walker, a Normal Guy™

for a while he was downright terrified of telling anybody. it was hard to guess if any of the ninja were transphobic since they didn't really talk about things like that

eventually there was a moment where somebody, maybe Cole, mentioned a trans person they knew and Jay made a bad joke like "what? there's TWO of us now?!" and then he had to act as casual as he could while he explained what he meant

Jay was relieved when the ninja mostly shrugged it off with a few "thanks for telling us" and "we're proud of you". they all agreed it didn't change anything and Jay only let himself cry over the anxiety of it all once he went to bed. he woke up the next day feeling lighter than ever

he started to meet a lot of trans people after that, mostly from looking around online, and was relieved to know so many people had the same experience

he continues to be subtle about being trans, with the exception of pride month when he breaks out the pins and shirts and flags. he likes to annoy Kai by waving little flags in his face

I also feel like Jay would like neopronouns, just a little spark/sparkself or really anything related to lighting. he thinks they're fun!!

[hussyknee]

do u really not see the difference btwn writing fanfic on the internet and buying a game whose storyline is actively being written by white supremacists and having the money go directly into the pocket of the most vocal & influential terf in the UK? that's not even touching all of the other racist and offensive bs in her series inc her antisemitism, appropriating first nations cultures, her asian racism, etc? i guess thats why you dont have 'antisemitics dni' on your blog

First, let me be clear – I do not give one single shit about Harry Potter. They are the best memories of my extremely shitty adolescence, I still read fanfic from time to time, but other than that, if I never hear the word "Harry Potter" again it will be too soon. I care about the fact that you clowns are

encouraging bullies and endangering mentally ill marginalized fans

leeching the air from leftist and queer discourse

fuelling a Western culture war that distracts from combating systemic transphobia

making suffering Black and brown communities, who mostly see white and Western trans people, think that trans people don't have any real problems beyond video games

Now, on to your ask:

I said never said not buying the game was the same as writing fanfic on the internet. I said that the furor over buying the game is leading to everyone who had anything to do with Harry Potter, including just writing fanfic, being bullied. I've had to unfollow so many people for reblogging posts attacking people for being in the *fandom*.

Asking people to refrain from doing something to prove that they care, especially demanding that they don't, has never in the history of activism worked. Black people have been speaking out against copaganda shows forever and STILL get harrassed. Indigenous people have been asking people to boycott Avatar and gotten nothing. Some people comply, but more do the thing simply out of contrarianism, and the entire issue becomes a culture war divided along political affiliation. People on the right go out of their way to do the thing, the people on the center and center-left won't really care, and people who identify as leftist divorce themselves even more from the rest of the left as being no better than the right, which eventually devastating results when it comes to actual elections and agitating for political change.

What works a lot better is harm reduction. Pirating is harm reduction, asking the HP fandom to offset JKR's fuckery by making their own merch, promoting indie games and donating to trans healthcare funds is harm reduction. People won't stand for being policed, but they like giving and also not paying for stuff with a clear conscience. You would have raised so much fucking money and promoted so many different things in all this time you've spent giving the game negative engagement clicks and keeping it trending on social media so long after its release.

You keep insisting that people shouldn't be fans because JKR equals her fandom with her own influence. This is called buying into the right-wing narrative. The woman is delusional (I can't think of a non-ableist word atm, and I honestly think that she's not all stable) and you're enabling her and her terf cult. We created the online HP fandom ourselves back in the aughts, before there was any merch, before movie rights were ever sold to WB, a full decade before her advertising machine ever woke up to the fact that an internet fandom existed. JKR has lost relevance for HP fans a long time ago; imagine the slap in the face for her if the fandom starts countering her bigotry by very prominently engaging in trans activism? The JKR terf cult in the HP fandom are a minority, like TERFs themselves (they're only so loud because the right-wing promotes the shit out of them). The vast majority of fans are just the kind of vaguely well-meaning cis people who don't agree with transphobes but are pretty ignorant about trans issues. And I do mean the vast majority, because literally a billion people grew up on her books and only a bare fraction is on social media at all, and even fewer even see the leftist drive to boycott the franchise.

Let's talk demographics. Because of the aforementioned vastness of consumers, the majority of HP fans are cis het, abled, neurotypical Millennials. Because of the way internet penetration works, the majority of HP fans online and even in fandom are white or Western. Leftist spaces mostly attract young and marginalized people, and transformative fandom is full of neurodivergent women and queer people. Which means the majority of people you're reaching are young queer neurodivergent people who have limited economic power themselves. And the people most vulnerable to and impacted by policing and harrassment are trans, Black and brown, Jewish, mentally ill, poor. Do you see the problem? You're policing the very bottom rungs of the socio-economic ladder on the off-chance of maybe influencing a privileged few who might give a damn.

This is literally why we say that boycotts, especially over social media, don't fucking work. Firstly because they penalize the most disenfranchised consumers, it's hard to reach enough people to even explain why they matter, it's hard to keep up with the constant discourse and changing information, and it relies entirely on performance. Someone can stay quiet or nod along furiously to whatever you're saying and then just...go out and buy the thing. Social censure doesn't work when you have the option of not having to face the consequences. Contrary to hellsite opinion, the Fantastic Beasts franchise died because it sucked, and Harry Potter is dying because it's fading from relevance and JKR is being an embarrassment. The wider market doesn't even know y'all exist.

As for the game being racist and antisemitic...you come on my blog, a South Asian who has been in fandom for twenty years, and try to tell me about racism in media???? NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF ALL MEDIA IS RACIST AND ANTISEMITIC YOU ABSOLUTE CLOWN. I'm from South Asia, our children grow up on books written by colonizers! LORD OF THE RINGS is white supremacy! NARNIA is white supremacy! Disney and Marvel is one of the biggest figures in US military industrial complex that razed the Middle East to the ground. It's so ubiquitous that we have to accept the racism and white supremacy as a matter of course to engage with any Western media! And even then fandom is so racist it's hard to even exist in it! We get run out of it when we try to talk about it. You suck on white supremacy every single day you live like it's your Mum's teat! Do you know what it's like to hear whiteys ranting that people who consume this one game they hate are being antisemitic and racist??? While still fawning??? Over cop shows???? And Disney???? And sending Black people??? Death threats??? Over a game???

I don't say "anti-Semites DNI" for the same reason I don't say "racists DNI". Nobody identifies as a racist or antisemite, that's not how systemic oppression works. Radfem and Zionist and Communist are political identities. Radical feminism is underpinned by transphobia and racism, Zionism is currently entrenched in Palestine occupation, Western communists refuse to acknowledge USSR and Global South genocides. See how that works?

Bitch, you didn't just come at me about JKR's indigenous cultural appropriation when I was among the few who were trying to discourage people from supporting Fantastic Beasts back in 2016 and literally got flamed for it. You people did not give a single shit about Natives back then, and you don't give one now. Just like you don't actually care about Jews and never did. I literally never heard about why and how openly alt-right people keep getting this kind of power and position in the gaming industry. Conversations about antisemitism in gaming and antisemitic tropes in entertainment haven't gotten this much traction. No wider revelations about how entertainment media directly funding and promoting social harms. But sure, it's about antisemitism and racism and has absolutely nothing to do with a mess of white queers realizing they can weaponize it like a cudgel against anyone they believe are against them. We know you whites. You care about excuses to take the moral high ground without having to do any self-interrogation or cost to yourself.

Finally, to give y'all one example of where the current discourse around this stupid shit is at:

Fuck you.

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Lmfao, so for whatever reason I decided to look at the DID tags on twitter, probably as a form of digital SH and the first post I see on there annoys the fuck out of me

TW for discussion of self harm and self injury

Ok so first thing I see is this

And this is definitely a touchy subject subject for me, I get hyper critical when I see it discussed, especially since some early conversations with my therapist. Even before that discussion though I've always hated the way self harm is discussed even if I couldn't articulate those feelings.

And that's because abstinence as a moral imperative might be the most damaging ideology to ever worm it's way into society.

I mean, even the title of that article "First, Do No Harm, Not Even to Yourself" is soaked in moral judgement, "hurting other people is wrong and bad, right? So why would do a wrong and bad thing to yourself? You wouldn't download a razor blade" and it doesn't even make a proper argument on the moral philosophy of harm, she merely attempts to imply immorality by association. Hurting others is wrong because it violates their autonomy, your liberty to swing your arm ends just where my nose begins, right? It's about consent. In BDSM, a sadist may physically hurt a masochist because they have consented to it being done to them. Similarly, gender affirming care doesn't violate the Hippocratic Oath no matter how strongly a transphobe feels about it because informed consent is given to the treatment. Conversely, genial reconstruction surgeries performed on intersex babies or even infant circumsions should be considered a violation because consent has not and cannot be given.

But how does this apply to self-harm? It's your body, it's your autonomy, you aren't violating shit. Even being in a system no single alter has complete authority over the body, it's still possible to come to a consensus without unanimous agreement because guess what? Making decisions while having conflictual feelings or being in two minds is a perfectly normal human experience.

Am I saying you should self harm? No. Of course not. I'm simply saying that self harm is not an immoral act and I will remove the personhood of anyone that tries to weaponise shame in this way against people who almost certainly feel an incredibly painful and torturous amount of shame and guilt already.

The article is also vaccuously lacking in substance. The author seems to think this 'gotcha' is a sufficient argument but itself, checkmate traumatised liberals, but obviously needs to generate ad revenue through scrolling so offers 8 "new realities" to help reinforce a morally pure and healthy mindset.

1. Feelings are survivable and containable

Uhhh sure, they can be, if you have the right coping mechanisms to deal with them. You can't just tell someone to forgo the coping mechanisms they already have without successfully replacing them with something equally or more effective though. The whole point of dissociation from trauma is because certain feelings ARE deemed to be unsurvivable by the brain, you're not weak minded for thinking so.

2. We have art, reading, distractions, therapist, meds

Yeah no shit, that's not always enough though and you haven't failed if you try them and they don't work, the coping mechanisms have failed, not you.

3. We deserve to feel better

So true! Self harming makes me feel better when emotional distress is overwhelming me, I'm glad we agree

4. We don't need to guarantee pain

You know what guarantees pain? Shaming yourself out of using a coping mechanism without addressing it's root cause, but that's ok because feelings are "survivable" right?

5. We don't have to hurt via self-abuse

I actually don't know what that's supposed to mean, I can hurt myself without hurting myself? I don't have to self harm? I know I don't have to, but I can if it's better to do so than to not

6. Our trauma is over, why continue it?

First of all fuck you, retraumatisation is a very well noted trauma response, but so is shame and guilt so who's really continuing our trauma here?

7. We don't have to stand vigil over pain to honour abused parts

EXACTLY! That's what coping mechanisms are for, hey guess what coping mechanism can be really effective at temporarily relieving emotional pain? I'll give you a hint, it's not reading.

8. We will honour our abused parts with self compassion, understanding, acceptance, and encouragement

Once again so true! I will be compassionate to abused parts, understanding and accepting of the coping mechanisms they choose, while encouraging exploration of healthy alternatives without shaming them if they don't work.

Her website is littered with BuzzFeed style listicles of "25 ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" "25 more ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" "another 25 even more ways to avoid self injury and prevent self harm" and like, sure, they're all perfectly fine distraction techniques but what really pisses me off about the wording of these is that they're framed as ways to distract yourself from the urge to self harm, as though the urge itself is what's wrong, and not the pain and hurt that the urge is a response to.

Just watch one more movie bro, trust me bro, this next one will be the one that makes the pain go away bro just trust me one more movie bro.

I have wasted so much fucking time hating myself and shaming myself and feeling like a failure for breaking my streak. Torturing myself during some of the most emotionally distraught moments of my life because "it doesn't matter how much pain I'm in I can't give into the urge, I can't do that, no matter what I mustn't ever do that" imagining how much worse I'll feel when I punish myself for being too weak.

Do you know what I do now? I take note of the feeling, give it space and allow it to be present and I make a bargain with myself. I will give myself 2 hours to distract and soothe from the emotional pain that I or another part is experiencing, and if that doesn't work then we'll self harm with no shame or judgement. And you'll never guess what, I haven't even come close to self harming, and that's great! And maybe sometime it won't be enough and that'll be fine too, it'll just mean I really needed to. The parts that want to self harm feel respected and listened to, my hurt and abused parts feel seen because I'm paying attention to them and not fighting with the self harm part and we all get to move through the experience with grace.

8. We will honour our abused parts with self compassion, understanding, acceptance, and encouragement

Fucking damn right I will, in every way I can.

So yeah, that was my first 5 seconds on DID twitter how was your day?

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Terms of Employment - Saul Goodman/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

lord help me im back on my bullshit. this is a sequel to my first saul/ftm reader fic. you wake up the morning after and discuss the current situation with your boss/apparent sex partner: saul goodman

tags/warnings: office sex, rough sex, oral sex, light bondage, daddy kink, homophobic/transphobic slurs, squirting, humiliation/degradation, trans fetishization

anatomical terms: dick/cock and cunt/pussy/hole are used interchangeably

words: 4,061

ao3 link

Your head was spiraling the morning after. You awoke from a deep sleep in a bed that felt way more luxurious than your own. The gaudy decorations that littered the walls only exacerbated the pounding in your head. You sluggishly peeled the blankets off, your body aching with even the slightest movement. Wait, where were your clothes? And where the hell were you? How were you going to get-

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

That answers that question. And literally every other question that had yet to finish buffering. Suddenly, the memories came flooding back. Your boss, the ubiquitous presence on every possible advertisement space in Albuquerque, Saul fucking Goodman, had given you the type of fucking that’d make a nun burst into flames. And he didn’t seem like a smug piece of shit about it, rather cautious, actually. He was standing by your side of the bed, dressed in a comfortable-looking tracksuit, handing you your clothes with a sheepish smile. 

“I, uh… I guess you’re starting to remember how we got here. Listen, I’m really sorry if it was too much. You seemed like you were into it, so I wanted to, uh… keep the hype going, ya get me? I hope I didn’t hurt you or-”

“Oh no, i-it’s fine,” you cut him off, accepting your clothes from him, “I… I really did enjoy it. I kinda like it rough.” You flashed that same hesitant smile he had given you as you put your shirt on. God, this was fucking awkward. You definitely wanted more, but you had no idea how you’d even continue working together after this. Were you just expected to never talk about it again? Probably not, since you both were talking about it now, but what were you supposed to do? There wasn’t a page in your employee handbook on what to do after you fuck your boss.

He let out a small chuckle at your response, and relaxed his posture a bit. At least you both could let your guard down a bit.  “Heh, kinda? Sweetheart, you take a beating better than some of my toughest clients. I mean, I know I’m not in the best shape but-...“ He lost his train of thought as you stood up to put your underwear on, his eyes unconsciously trailing downward before darting away not so subtly. “Ah, nevermind. So you enjoyed it, huh? Would you wanna… do it again sometime? Maybe we could make this a regular thing?”

You internally breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his blunt nature took the pressure off you. “I’d like that.” This time, your smile was genuine and confident.

His sigh of relief was dramatic. “Oh thank god,” he exhaled, “I’d been stressing that all night. You’re a good kid. I’d hate to make things weird between us. Well… weirder, I guess. Not exactly a conventional boss/assistant relationship anyway, am I right?” 

You couldn’t help but agree with that. 

Saul continued. “But listen, let’s just keep this a secret between us, alright? I’d hate to make things difficult for you, and personally, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole ‘I just fucked a dude in his pussy’ thing, y’know?”

You snorted a little at his last remark. “Yeah, that’s fine. I get it. I didn’t think you were into men, anyway.”

“Well, you’re a special case. And besides,” he placed his hands on your hips and leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “It’ll be nice to have a cute little plaything like you on standby.”

You shuddered at his teasing words. You’d hate to stroke his ego even more, but fuck, he was good. You figured you’d better fire back to show him you can keep up. “Sounds perfect, Daddy” was what you ended up with, making sure to drag out that last word. 

“Oh ho, is that the direction we’re taking things? I can get behind that,” He replied, lust dripping from his words. Though he switched gears pretty quickly, likely not wanting to cede control to you. “In due time though, kid. Let me drive you home. We got a big caseload this week, so come in an hour early on Monday, got it? I’ll be there to let you in.”

You likewise shifted back into business mode before he walked you two out to the car. “Sure thing, Mr. Goodman.”

—

The weekend passed you by, and you were outside the office on Monday morning an hour earlier than usual per your boss’s request. You knocked on the glass door to the building, and heard a muffled shout from the inside.

“Just a sec!”

“Alright!” You shouted back before absentmindedly checking your phone. You heard him stumbling around inside the dark office. You’d wondered previously why he wouldn’t turn the lights on when he called you in early, but with the amount of walk-in clients he got day in and day out, you got the gist. 

Saul eventually hobbled over to the front door and unlocked it for you. He seemed strangely out of breath. “Good to see you here bright and early, kiddo. We got a lot to cover today,” He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked in, “Have a seat in my office, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied. Sex was the last thing on your mind at 6:30 in the morning, but you couldn’t deny that calling him “sir” had a spicier taste now. The slightest hint of subordination to him was enough to spark your interest these days. You pushed open the door to his office and noticed an immediate roadblock to the task he had given you. “Uh, Mr. Goodman?”

“Yes?”, he asked, following you in.

“Where are all the chairs?”

The only seating in his office was his chair, behind his desk. You had a smaller desk off to the side, but your chair was gone. The chairs in front of his desk were gone too. Even that gross couch of his was nowhere in sight. Was he robbed? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Who would break into the most infamous law firm in the city just to steal his auxiliary office chairs? And he was here before you, too. He had to have known, right?

“I said,” He strode past you and sat himself down in his chair, crossing his legs and gesturing to the hardwood desk, “Have a seat.”

That son of a bitch. He made you get up at 5AM just to fuck with you. He was here at god knows what hour just to set the stage for your debasement. You weren’t sure how to feel, anger and arousal both waging a war over your psyche. You begrudgingly followed suit, plopping yourself down on the desk in front of him. You made sure to keep your legs closed and your gaze averted. You wanted to make him work for it, at least for a little while.

“There we go, that wasn’t so complicated, was it? Now, let's get down to brass tacks,” Saul traced his hand up your dress pants, in between your legs, and up to your crotch. You usually wore a packer when you went out, which evidently he must have noticed, and he gave it a not-so-gentle squeeze before he spoke. “We both know what’s going on here, so who exactly are you trying to fool?”

You gasped when he touched you, trying to squirm out of his grasp. You sputtered trying to answer him. “I’m… I’m not-”

“Take it off.”

“Si… Sir, I-”

He squeezed you even tighter. “I think you forgot your place here, kid. Your superior gave you an order. Need me to spell it out for you? I’m gonna let you go, and you’re going to take your pants off for me. Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

“Good boy. Now, get up.”

Saul kept his word and released you from his grip. It was as if the praise he gave you went straight to your head and kicked you into subspace. You slid off the desk and undid your belt with shaking fingers. You felt his eyes burning a hole into you as you dropped your pants and underwear, the silicone packer bouncing as it hit the floor. No doubt your face was bright red, and you still couldn’t look him in the eye. Once your bottom half was uncovered, you shimmied back onto the desk, your bare legs squishing against the cold wood. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you like this before, but this was the first time you’d been fully cognisant of your actions, and the first time he ordered you to strip. You were too shy to open your legs for him without command. 

“Look at me,” He said, and you slowly turned to meet his eyes. He was watching you hungrily, his elbows propped on the armrests and his hands folded in front of his mouth. There was no hint of compassion in his voice. He was all business. “Spread ‘em.”

You obliged. Your eyes felt heavy, as if tears were threatening to well up, and your brain was starting to slow. Your cheeks and your cunt both felt like they were on fire, and the cold air stung as you exposed yourself to him. All you could think of was how embarrassed you were. You had never felt so fucking humiliated, but you had no idea how much worse it was going to get. 

“That’s more like it. No need to cover up your best feature. What a shame that you’d try to hide such a pretty little hole behind a piece of cheap silicone. Why don’t you uh…” Saul made an upside-down V with his fingers, “...give me a better view?”

You gulped, not wanting to risk talking back to him. You mimicked his gesture against your lips, spreading them open to show him. Much to your dismay (or was it delight?), you were starting to get wet and your t-dick was already hard. 

“Aw, are you getting excited from this?” he mocked, “No seriously, are you? I mean, it’s kinda hard to tell with such a tiny dick like that, y’know? Tell me, do you like getting treated like this?”

You did. You really did. You wanted more, but you’d dare not overstep. “Y-yes…”

“Yes, what? Go on, say it.”

“Yes, Saul. I… I like it when you treat me like this…”

“Prove it.”

That shocked you. You don’t know why. In fact, you should’ve seen it coming, but it still mystified you when he said it. You figured you knew what he wanted from you, but you didn’t want to assume. “H…How do you mean?”

“Prove it,” Saul repeated his instruction as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Prove to me that you like being degraded like this. I want you to get yourself off right here on my desk. I wanna see you stroke your puny little dick for me like the needy little whore you are.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. You had to stifle a moan when he said that. He knew how to work you, and the bastard wasn’t even doing the work himself. You dragged your hand down to your aching cock and wrapped 2 fingers around it before you began to stroke it. You were embarrassed to make noises while he was watching, though biting your lip could only do so much.

Saul looked at you like you were about as interesting as a water cooler instruction manual. He was trying his hardest to seem disinterested, wanting to keep up the act. “C’mon slut, get into it. You said you like it, right? Let me hear you.”

You let a couple noises slip. Mainly just quiet gasps and squeaks. At one point you sighed, “Fuck… Saul…”

“You’re on the clock, sugar. Don’t call me by my first name. You should know better than that.”

“S-sorry sir…” You stuttered, speeding up your motions. “I’ll… ngh…. I’ll be good.”

“You’ll be a good boy for Daddy?”

Motherfucker. Saul was an expert at using your words against you. Part of you regretted giving him that ammunition the other day, but part of you was ecstatic to hear him say it. You replied with affirmation while continuing to chase your high, “Yes, Daddy…”

“Good boy. Y’know, you’re so cute like this. Seeing you pinch that tiny little dick of yours and try to jack it like it’s an actual cock.” You’re not sure what hurt more, his backhanded compliments or a literal backhand from him. Both left a pleasant sting in their wake. “You can’t even call it a dick, really. Just serves as decoration for that nice tight pussy you have. It’s fun watching you pretend otherwise, though. How about you shove a couple fingers inside and fuck yourself the way a cuntboy like you deserves?”

You purred at his request, eager to satisfy him at your own expense. “Ah… y-yes, Daddy…” While still stroking your dick, you slipped two small fingers inside yourself, trying desperately to hit that special spot, but failing. You wished his longer fingers would replace yours. He had hit that spot in no time. Even so, you got loud. You weren’t even trying to stifle it anymore. Shameless whining, heavy panting, the most pitiful noises escaped you as you climbed closer and closer to your peak.

“Ah… f-fuck… sir, I mean, Daddy… shit… I…”

“You’re getting close?”

“Ngh… Yes… Daddy… fuck… please… I need…”

“Stop.”

And it all came crashing down. The climax you had built yourself up to disappeared, but not without a trace. You were still painfully hard, and your pussy was drenched. Droplets fell off your hands and it felt like you were sitting in a puddle. You whimpered softly, hoping he’d take pity on you, but he knew your game.

“Shhh…” he said, “Not yet, baby boy. You said you wanna be good for me, right? Then you gotta listen to me. Now, I want you to get off that desk and get down on your knees in front of me. Let me show you what a real cock looks like.”

You crept down from the desk and settled on your knees below him. He unbuckled his belt and placed it on the desk, making sure to avoid the wet spot you had left behind. He unzipped his pants agonizingly slowly, his obvious erection making you salivate. He fished out his cock, and it was gorgeous. A pretty decent length, and he was thick and uncut, already glistening with precum. You didn’t really get a good look at it last time, but it made sense why you were sore the next day. You shifted your position slightly, trying to get a little more friction against you.

“Getting a little jealous, huh? That’s what I thought. You went crazy over it the other day.” Saul gave himself a languid stroke, just to tease you. 

It worked. You wanted him so bad, you couldn’t help yourself. “Please, Daddy… c-can I…?”

“Can you what?”

“Can… Can I suck it?”

Saul laughed, but you saw his cock throb in his hand. He wanted you bad. “Jesus, you’re an even bigger faggot than I thought! Sure, whatever, go ahead, kid. Knock yourself out.” You went to take it in your hand, but he grabbed your wrist to stop you. “Ah ah ah, what do we say?”

That smug son of a bitch. He was insufferable in the best kind of way. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, whore. Now suck it.” 

He let go of your wrist and you eagerly took him in your grasp. You spit on the tip and spread it over his length, his foreskin peeling back as you did so. You wrapped your lips around his head and began to suck, running your tongue along the underside and probing his hole with your tongue. While you slobbered on the tip, you used your hand to take care of the rest. He tasted so fucking good. His precum was salty and sweet, and his musk was driving you crazy. You pulled your mouth off the tip with a satisfying pop, and lowered yourself down to his balls. Licking and sucking on them frantically, you could hear him hiss above you as you worked him over. You were completely and utterly cockdrunk, and you’d do anything to show your gratitude. In fact, you were probably more into it than he was. 

“Look at you,” he sighed contentedly, “You look right at home on your knees worshiping a cock like this. I bet you wish you had one just like it, huh, tranny?”

You moaned into his balls as he talked down to you, feeling his body twitch in response. That slur hit you just right. You took his cock into your mouth again and started bobbing up and down his shaft, striving to please him however you could.

“Heh, I’ll take that as a yes. How adorably pathetic. I knew this would be a good idea. I figured you’d start drooling when I took my cock out. I bet that’s all you think about, right, faggot? Just how good it’d feel to have a fat cock like mine filling you up in every hole you’ve got?”

Another desperate moan answered his question for him. You enthusiastically pumped him with one hand, and tried sneaking the other one down to take care of yourself, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Big mistake.

“Ah!” Saul grabbed your hair and pulled you off him. “Don’t think I don’t see that. You’ll get yours when I say so, hole.” He leaned over you and grabbed his belt off the desk. “Though in the meantime, this should remind you who’s in charge here.” He let go of your hair and pulled the belt taut. “Hands behind your back.”

You complied, and he reached down to wrap the belt around your wrists. Pulling the belt through the fastener, he slipped two fingers in to make sure it wasn’t too tight. What a gentleman. When he was done, he sat back in his chair and looked down at you expectedly. “Well? Tell Daddy thank you for disciplining you.”

You parroted his words back to him. “Thank you for disciplining me, Daddy.” The sick thing was you truly meant it. 

He gently patted your head, tousling your hair a little bit. “Good job. That’s my boy. Now…” He gripped your hair once more, his other hand stabilizing his cock at the base, “...take a deep breath for me.”

You knew what was coming, and began to inhale. Though before you could finish, Saul decided you’d gotten enough air, and forced you down onto him. He fucked your mouth relentlessly, spit pooling around your lips and spilling down your chin. You were doing your best not to gag, and for the most part you were successful. Except for when he’d force you down to the base and pinch your nose. He groaned at the feeling of you struggling around him, though he’d always show mercy and let you catch your breath before making you run the gauntlet again.

“Goood boy. I love fucking this whore mouth of yours. Good thing I hired you. Got my own little cuntboy to use like a fleshlight whenever I want.” He took you down to his base again, and before he could pinch your nose, you flicked your tongue across his balls. That caught him by surprise and got him to moan like a bitch. “Shit! Ah… fuck that’s good, kid…” He got louder and louder as he approached the top, fucking your mouth insatiably, “Getting close… ngh… gonn-ah… gonna cum down your f-fucking throat… yeah… take it, faggot… take it… I know you want it… f-fuck…!” He came with an earth-shattering groan, using both hands to push you all the way down. His cum shot down your throat in what felt like buckets, and he didn’t pull you off until he was empty. When he did, your throat was burning and you were gasping for air. Nevertheless, you made sure to swallow it all. 

Your efforts did not go unappreciated. You looked up at your boss and saw him slumped back in his chair, panting heavily, face flushed, and looking up at the ceiling with a goofy smile on his face. He looked spent, but his cock was still semi-hard. Remembering where he was, he tilted his head down to see you, and he gently rubbed your cheek. 

“Such a good boy… so good to me…” he sighed, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit smug from his praise. “How about I return the favor?”

You thought he’d never ask. “Please, yes, Daddy. Did I do a good job?”

“Very good…” Saul replied, grabbing you by your shoulders and hoisting you up with him. He spun you around and slid his hands down to your hips. Once he had the leverage to do so, he bent you down over his desk. “...and good boys get rewards.” A firm hand pressed your face into the desk and kept you pinned down, while his other hand went to work himself back up. When he was ready to go, he got into position and teased your opening with his cock. “Come on, pumpkin. Daddy wants to hear you say it.”

Of course he does. You wondered if it was physically possible to have sex with him without needing to stroke his ego. But you loved it. Any modicum of shame you had left went out the window as you begged, “Please, Daddy. Please put it in. I want it so bad. Please, please, please fuck me.”

He chuckled at your pathetic whimpering, though not to degrade you further. He was genuinely enjoying the effect he had on you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek before he spoke, “I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you.” 

Slam

With one hard thrust, Saul bottomed out in you. You cried out in ecstasy, finally getting the fucking you’d worked so hard for. He didn’t think to start off slow; he knew what you wanted. He pounded into you relentlessly, hitting your base with every thrust. His hips pushed yours into the desk so roughly that you thought you’d bruise. Your head was empty and your mouth hung open drooling. All you could think about was his cock. You loved it. You needed to show your boss how grateful you were.

“Th… Thank… you…. Daddyyy….”

“Aww, you’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” He really was. He loved how he could get you to thank him without being prompted. While keeping you pressed against the desk, he snuck his hand down to your aching cock, and jerked you in time with his motions. “Go ahead and cum for me, darling. It’s okay. Let Daddy feel you cum.”

It was all too much, how his cock filled you up so perfectly, how his rough hands took such gentle care of your dick and kept you helpless underneath him, how sweetly he’d talk you through your orgasm. You couldn’t hold on. He pulled your orgasm from you easily, your wetness squirting out against his bare thighs. From the way he groaned at your release, you could tell he wasn’t far behind. A couple rapid thrusts and he was gone, burying himself completely within you as his cum coated your walls. You both trembled at the feeling of him filling you up. Having him deep inside you, so warm and full, it just felt so right. He stayed in until he softened, taking his hand off your head and slowly withdrawing his cock. You whined as you felt his cum spill out of you, and he just stepped back to admire the sight. He knelt down and tucked his seed back into you, finishing the job by planting a soft kiss against your wrecked hole, a breathless moan escaping your lips.

Saul climbed back up to you and laid his body on top of yours. He kissed your cheek and played with your hair, enjoying the warmth and softness of your figure. You didn’t see him as much of a cuddler, but you weren’t complaining…

“Enjoy it while it lasts, kid. We got 5 minutes before our first client.”

…yet.

[starchilddante]

You know what really doesn't make sense? People understand the idea of "negative historical connotation" in the context of race (such as the n-word or making a joke about asian people eating cats) gender (such as saying "like a girl" or making fun of someone by calling something girly) politics (mocking a veteran) and a million other things, but can't get it through their head that the same thing applies to the queer community?

I have a semi-religious straight cisgender friend who constantly makes jokes about me being sinful, gross, or how you know, "God hates pride" every time I bring up my queer identity. When I voiced disagreement, he immediately got pissy. Saying that my victim mentality is the reason people don't feel sorry for queers anymore.

First of all, I didn't ask you to feel sorry for me. I asked you to stop making jokes like that because even if they don't personally harm me, they enable abusers to continue their toxic behavior under the guise of a joke. While you may not mean anything by saying, "Oh, wow, that's a little gay," Some people do use that phrase to hurt others. I also just don't appreciate my queerness constantly being turned into a joke, because it honestly proves we can't have a honest discussion about it because you don't agree.

Then this guy tells me I need to learn to take a joke. And again, I explain to him why it might be a joke in this context, he still needs to be mindful and I would feel wrong not saying something because my queer identity is not a joke, and regardless of whether or not I'm a victim, there are queer people who became victims, and his language supports genuine homophobia, even if he is not homophobic/transphobic/whateverphobic (though I'm pretty sure he is.)

Part of me is tempted to basically make him lose my number, but I want to educate people. I want them to understand. I don't understand what's so hard to get about it being the same level of inappropriate as using the n-word or calling someone girly as an insult. (I mean, I do know. He's homophobic and it's easier for him to make jokes and get mad then admit it.)

Idk I guess I'm just venting or whatever I just get so tired of this conversation every time I make any reference to being queer. The problem is, I know it's not well-intentioned, whatever he may say. There's a difference between friendly ribbing (which is far more acceptable coming from other queer friends, of course) and genuine insulting jokes. He gets it, I'm sure, he just refuses to admit it.

Anyway, I'm proud as hell to be queer and I'll stand up for everyone who has given up their lives so I can say so without risk of death. On top of that, I'll keep saying if for those who still do risk death if their families were to find out, and for everyone who is still in the closet.

I'm here, I'm queer, and I sure as hell won't tolerate your bullshit just because I know who I am.