#but im just... tired that another trans person said this to my face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meat--grindr · 4 years

Note

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

· It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

· Even better, you aren’t alone.

· Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

· The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

· Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

· The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

· The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

· Okay. Sure.

· It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

· In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

· “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

· Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

· “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

· “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

· “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

· And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

· The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

· You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

· In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

· So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

· He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

· You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

· His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

· He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

· “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

· And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

· He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

· “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

· Limp or lifeless?

· The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

· You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

· You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

· When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

· He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

· “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

· Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

· “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

· He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

· You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

· You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

· “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

· And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

· “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

· The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

· You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

· Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

· Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

· You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

· Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

· For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

· The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

· You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

· When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

· “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

· You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

· His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

· The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

· “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

· You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

· Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

· You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

· “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

· Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

· There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

· “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

· There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

· “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

· “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

· “Oh, yes.”

· “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

· Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

· “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

· Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

· “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

· The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

· Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

· Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

· Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

· “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

· “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

· You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

· Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

· Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

· Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

· “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

· Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

· “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

· Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

· You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

· You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

· “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

· “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

· You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

· “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

· Clever boy.

· You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

· He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

· You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

· He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

· His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

· You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

· With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

· His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

· You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

· “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

· “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

· You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

· “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

· “They are aware, yes.”

· The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

· Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

· You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

· Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

· “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

· You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

· “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

· The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

· You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

· “Oh yeah? How?”

· “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

· He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

· ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

· You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

· Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

· You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

· He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

· But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

· This is going to be fun.

· You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside. Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

· Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

· “What was that, Count?”

· “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

· The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

· Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

· “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

· With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

· The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

· “Their…blood?”

· You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

· “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

· Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

· The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

· Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

· The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

· Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

· Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

· You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

· “What’s going on, Count?”

· “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

· “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

· Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

· The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

· Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

· His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

· Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

· You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

· “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

· “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

· Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

· He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

· With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

· The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

· His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.

· He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

· The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

· Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

· He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

#martin x reader #slasher x reader #martin 1977 #slasher imagines #ripper fics #sorry for how late this is #enjoy!

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armillary-spheres-lover · 3 years

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Hey

Idk if you ever got the answer to your thing. But I’m a person who is queer but regularly uses the term lesbian to make things simpler. I can tell you why I hate the phrase monosexual- it feels transphobic to me- I am not attracted to men at all, but I am attracted to women, non-binary folks, gender queer folks, and agender folks. If I was with a partner and they transitioned to be a man I would still love them. That wouldn’t change. Sexuality is fluid and calling someone monosexual seems to erase that and really put people in boxes. Everyone has exceptions. And as someone who has identified as bisexual and pansexual in the past and find those not to suit me and fit right (especially since I am not sexually/romantically attracted to people physically/based on appearances- it’s more about personality and what I could do with a person)

I don’t mean this in an antagonistic way, I really hope it doesn’t come off that way(I’m bad expressing myself sorry).

(I’m sorry, I know you’re not trying to be rude. My answer, however, will sound rude and upset because you touched upon some stuff that needs a lot of unpacking to me lmao. Just know this anger is not necessarily directed at you but at biphobia in general.)

Why do bisexual people may need to use the term monosexual?

A. It is descriptive

I see what you mean but as you said you're queer and lesbian is a term to make things simpler, right?

So I wouldnt call you monosexual because you’re clearly not attracted to only one gender (but if you want to who I am to stop you?). Monosexual is someone who is almost exclusively dating/is attracted to people of one gender. There are plenty trans people that are straight or gay that would NOT date a partner if they realized they were a different gender. For real: kat blaque made a video (here it is if youre interested) on youtube about this - she’s trans and she wants to date men and wouldnt feel comfortable on continuing dating if a partner of hers realized they were actually a trans woman all along. She wants to date guys not girls and that's FINE it just means A. She actually recognizes the girl gender, obviously B. She's straight af and that's wonderful! It’s not a box if that’s how her experience is and she likes it that way!

Also how is being monosexual transphobic? Cant a girl just like guys exclusively (both cis and trans) or like girls exclusively (both cis and trans)? It's not even enbyphobic since you dont need to be attracted to a person to support their rights. (Gay men arent attracted to women but can be 100% feminists.) Being open to fuck somebody is not the same as supporting their rights: fetishization is a thing. Again, I refer to the video Kat Blaque made.

Sexuality IS fluid but to some people (like me and you) it is more than others. Some people don’t feel comfortable dating people that dont fall into the gender theyre usually attracted to and thats 100% okay.

B. It helps in talking about biphobia and panphobia in society

Biphobia and panphobia are for the large part based on the assumption that you cant be attracted to more than one gender (not even non-binary and so on) and that if you do you're weird/disgusting/mentally ill/a sexual predator. I can tell you 100% that's the narrative both straight and gay people can and may perpetuate since I struggle w this kind of shit every single time Im attracted to someone no matter their gender (YES, EVEN IF THEY'RE A GUY, BECAUSE THE OTHER DAY I WAS ATTRACTED TO A GIRL AND NOW I FEEL LIKE A FUCKING ANIMAL THAT CANT CONTROL ITSELF, even though it makes NO sense because if it was two girls or two boys the actual number of people my hormones activated to wouldnt change, but it would make my experience not subjected to biphobia!). I’m not saying gay people are the same as straight people. But I do feel alienated BOTH from heteronormative society AND from (subtly biphobic) gay spaces because of my bisexuality. I costantly feel like I’m outside both of those worlds and you know how humans are: I just need a term to encompass it all easily, to say “I don’t identify with any of this” (which is both straight and strictly gay spaces: ie, monosexual). To me is literally the same as saying non-bisexual/non-pansexual.

I dont mean to say lesbians or gays have it easier or are just like straight people. But we do have different experiences and I need terms to express that. It honestly doesnt matter to me if you identify as lesbian or queer (though I think you’re implying you’re more queer than anything). But I do need a term to talk about how society at large treats sexuality; ie, as a monosexual thing. Another concept that’s been thrown around is bi erasure. A strictly monosexual society is bound to view a girl dating a girl (or girl presenting) as if theyre both LESBIANS and erase a queer person the moment they’re in a m/f relationship, because people cant COMPUTE that it may not be the case and that the girl dating a cis straight dude isnt betraying her queerness.To think so is basic biphobia.

In some ways, I think it’s the same as when transgender people started using the term cisgender - which is applicable to both straight people and queer/gay people. They simply needed a term which meant “not-trans” as they were saying “I dont identify with this” (ie the cisgender experience). Does it imply that cisgender people, no matter if queer, have something in common? Yeah, yeah it does. Does it imply that queer people are just the same as straight people, or face no oppression? Of course not. Seeing people being offended upon being called monosexual feels like people being offended upon being called cis to me.

Also, saying that the terms bisexual people use are transphobic is almost implying that bisexuality is inherently transphobic? Or reeks to me of that kind of rhetoric. I use the terms I need to use, just like any other marginilized group does, and nobody outside of that group has any right of denying me that. It’s like I’m trying to create a safe space for myself and people like me and yall come around to judge us YET AGAIN. And I'm just tired of hearing this bullshit. I could accept this kind of criticism only if it came from a trans person themselves, I guess? But it’s not usually trans people who accuse us of being transphobic, in fact, many trans people identify as bisexual and use bisexual terminology lmfao.

“Hearts not parts” rhetoric

Finally, about personality being superior to physical appearance. That's amazing but I do want to note that, not you necessarily, but many people who are into the “hearts not parts” rhetoric are, how can I say this. Slut-shaming people? I’m not sure if you are doing this but I feel it needs to be said just to be sure. A lesbian trans woman can be just attracted to a girl for her physical appearance and just want to fuck her - and THAT'S OKAY. That's fine. I am a sexually attracted to people and that doesnt mean I have to form a deep bond first. Sex positivity is about accepting that people can feel like this and not shame them for this. "Hearts not parts” rhetoric has in the past infantilized, sanitized or outright shamed other queer experiences. It's fine if you feel that way but dont start acting like you're morally superior because of that. That's catholicism with extra steps. My bisexuality its not the symptom of some predatory and animalistic thing that should be purified into something more palatable and less sexual. That’s the same thing they used to say about gay people and now gay (biphobic) people are using this against us. That’s also the kind of thing trans women (especially if they’re sapphic) constantly hear every fucking day. Queer people have a good part of their discrimination rooted in the shaming of purely sexual desires. Forcing ourselves to be more palatable and less sexual is just respectability politics. I’m tired of it. (This is obviously different from being on the asexual spectrum: but you dont see ace people going around pretending they’re morally superior than everybody else, and many are actually very sex positive) You would still love your partner if they were a different gender: that’s great, but that’s not how some (most) people feel, and they aren’t superficial because of this, just different from you.

Also, I think you’d really benefit from hearing a trans person say they don’t care if someone has genitalia preferences. Here it is. This obviously doesnt mean that every trans person will feel like she does, but it does mean that we can’t generalize trans experiences/preferences/what they feel transphobia is. Just like straight people dont get to say what’s homophobic or not, cis people dont get to say what’s transphobic or not. The definition of those terms relies entirely on the community that is targeted by these things.

I hope this wasnt excessively confusing but I wanted to make my point clear.

#ask #anon ask #sometimes i say stuff #tw biphobia #tw transphobia #tw panphobia #tw queerphobia #lgbt #lgbtqia

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cottoncandyjester · 4 years

Note

What would the boys do if they found out their partner is trans? Like y/n hasn't started taking hormones when they got together, but obviously it's been their plan. How would the boys react to them taking/wanting to take hormones?

Love the question Z!

Honestly please send more trans Requests!

This contains: lots of wholesome moments! Just fluffy fluff

Theodore

He is ready

Will research endlessly

You wanna do this? He got you

Of course he supports you

Will do whatever he can to make you happy

But also wants you to be safe so he is monitoring everything

Writes down your process

Theo let's out a small sigh as he checked your heart rate once more, his eyes serious as he did so before writing the information down.

"all normal, though your heart is beating extra fast are you okay?"

Theodore moved closer before he planted a soft kiss on your cheek

"kidding, sorry shouldn't tease my dear"

Theo glanced at his notes before he looked up at you, his smile faltering causing you to worry but before you can say anything he simply got up and stretched

"let's do something fun hmmm?"

Theo held in his concerns about the hormones he hoped you truly were happy doing this, it made his heart flutter everytime he sees you excitedly notice changes in your body.

Hikaru

The man crossdresses quite often so he has no room to judge

He wouldn't be one to judge anyways cause he is supportive af

Takes you shopping

That's one topoc he doesn't bully you about

It's a close topic cause his twin brothers are both transgender

He is the type to stab someone if they dates to make fun of you

Will pay for whatever he has to in order for you to be happy

"baby! Sweet piggy! I'm home and I've come bearing gifts!"

The male stepped into the house with an expensive shopping bag in his hand clearly having bought you something new and shiny.he watched as you walked to him before your eyes looked over at the bag

"hikaru, I don't nee-"

"shhhh! Don't say anything I don't wanna hear it now come on get dressed we have a date! "

"what's the occasion?"

Hikaru Simply grinned before giving you a wink

"well, I figured I should spoil my baby, plus I have a surprise"

You simply grabbed the bag and hikaru simply smiled as he wondered if you would be happy when he tells you that he paid for the surgery you needed to transition

Axis

He is super supportive!

He also asks like 100 questions

He doesn't wanna be rude he's just curious

He wants to know how hormones make you feel

He already worships you so now he just extra worships you

Will see to it that you are absolutely comfortable all the time

Is the type to wear pride clothes and carry pride flags everywhere

He himself is pansexual so he is just super prideful

"sweetie! Look look!"

Axis came rushing into the room with a trans colored shirt with both Braille and words on it that said 'im married to a trans person and i love it'

"axis.."

You felt nothing but love as you saw how exciting he was about it, he was so happy and that in turn made you just as happy. You gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and he laughs softly now wrapping his arms around you

"we should go to pride again this year! Last year was so fun! Ooh and maybe we can have a one year anniversary since you've started taking hormones!"

"you just wanna eat cake"

Axis let out a fake dramatic gasp now pouting at you and pretending to be offended.

"baby! How could you think that!? I want to eat cake and celebrate you so it's a win win!"

You couldn't help but laugh at him before giving him another kiss watching his milky white eyes sparkle slightly at the affection

Prince

He is bad at supporting others but he tries

"well you look hot as either gender"

Forgive his ignorance he isn't used to caring about people like this

He made a signature drink in your honor

He is ready to fight whoever bashes you

He isn't crazy out there like axis but he does want you to know that he cares

He asks a few questions to better understanding

"so, how do you feel today?"

"gross"

Prince gave a small hum as he leaned against the bar and leaned close planting a kiss on your cheek, he sadly had to work but you paid him a visit at his job to keep him company as he worked.

"want a drink? I have a new drink I want you to try"

"sure, I could drink"

Prince grinned as he got to work and even showed off by flipping the shaker and catching it, once done mixing he poured it into a glass and you quickly picked up on the drink being trans flagged colored.

When he slid it to you he looked nervous but you took a sip and instantly melted, it was perfect.

"it has everything I like in a drink, this a signature drink?"

"spent all night crafting it for you"

Your eyes softened as he gave you a wink before planting a kiss to your lips before hearing a loud cough and prince growled lowly at the rude customer and pouted ad he pulled back

"asshole, I'll feed you eat poison"

Prince's dark grumbling made you nervous but you gazed at the drink before a soft smile returned to your face.

Yuki

He isn't good with showing support

Showing emotions in general is hard but he tries so hard

He makes sure you are feeling okay while on hormones

He tends to steal you right after for naps and cuddles

If you were to had mood swings as a side effect of hormones he will just take it

You wanna hit him? Do it.

Wanna yell? Please don't but okay.

He just wants you to know that he isn't going anywhere.

He loves you and will love you no matter what

He just wants you to be comfortable in your own skin

Yuki let's out a gentle sigh as he felt you brush his hair out of his face, you had just come back from an early doctor appointment and we're desperate for cuddles, yuki opened his eyes and reached out softly grsbbing your arm and pulling you into the bed

"how was it?"

"tiring."

Your one word response showed him just how you felt and he simply hugged you close now nuzzling his face into you as he locked you in place.

"Mmm, just sleep..."

You laughed soft at his tired demand but it made you feel better, you closed your eyes before feeling a kiss against your forehead and you melted at his touch

"love you"

"..love you too"

#yandere imagines #yandere #yandere ocs #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader #ocs

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la5t-res0rt · 4 years

Text

this was written several weeks ago in response to asks i was receiving i am posting it now it is very long the longest i have ever made and it is not very well edited but here it is in this final essay i talk about how shitty rae is about black people in her writing as well as just me talking about how her writing sucks in general lets begin

hello everyone

as you may know i have received a lot of anons in the last week or so about issues of racism in the beetlejuice community both just generally speaking and also within specific spaces

i was very frustrated to not be getting the answers i wanted because i typically do not talk about what i do not see but in an effort to be better about discourse i went looking through discourse from before my time in the fandom and i also received some receipts and information from my followers and from some friends

keep in mind that the voices and thoughts of bipoc are not only incredibly important at all times but in this circumstance it is important that if a bipoc has something to add you listen and learn and be better

i admit that when this happened i wasnt aware of the extent of what occurred and im angry at myself for not doing more at that time and i want to work harder to make sure something like this doesnt go unnoticed again

im a hesitant to talk about months old discourse because i have been criticized for bringing up quote old new unquote but this is very important and i am willing to face whatever comes from to me

lets talk about this

content from our local racist idiot that may be months old but its important

putting my thoughts under a cut to spare the dash but before i begin obviously this is awful

lets fucking unpack this folks

right out the gate op states that she supports artistic freedom but then within a couple words she goes against that statement

being entirely canon compliant isnt artistic freedom and even so if this person has so much respect for canon they wouldnt be out here erasing lydias obvious disgust for beetlejuice in the movie or ignoring lydias age for the sake of shipping that shit isnt canon either

also we love the quick jab at the musical there hilarious we love it dont we because god forbid a licensed and successful branch on a media have any standing in this conversation but whatever

now lets scroll down and talk about the term racebending

the term racebending was coined around 2009 in response to the avatar the last airbender movie a film in which the east asian races of the characters were erased by casting white actors in the three leading roles of aang sokka and katara

whenever the term racebending is used in a negative light it is almost always a case of whitewashing like casting scarlett johansen in ghost in the shell or the casting of white actors of the prince of persia sands of time instead of iranian ones

this kind of racebending erases minorities from beeing seen in media and is wrong

all that being said however racebending has also been noted to have very positive after effects like the 1997 adaptation of cinderella or casting samuel jackson as nick fury in the marvel movies nick fury was originally a white guy can you even imagine

i read this piece from an academic that said quote writers can change the race and cultural specificity of central characters or pull a secondary character of color from the margins transforming them into the central protagonist unquote

racebending like the kind that rae is so heated about is the kind of creative freedom that leads to more representation of bipoc in media which will never be a bad thing ever no matter how pissy you get about it

designing a version of a character as a poc isnt serving to make them necessarily better it serves to give new perspective and perhaps the opportunity to connect even more deeply with a character it doesnt marginalize or erase white people it can uplift poc and if you think uplifting poc is wrong because it tears down white people or whatever youre a fucking moron and you need to get out of your podunk white folk town and see the real world

the numbers of times a bipoc particularly a bipoc that is also lgbt+ has been represented in media are dwarfed by what i as a white dude have seen myself represented in media is and that isnt okay that isnt equality and its something that should change not only in mainstream media but in fandom spaces as well

lets move down a bit further to the part about bullying straight people which is hilarious and lets also talk about the term fetishistic as well lets start with that

this person literally writes explicit pornography of a minor and an adult are we really going to let someone like that dictate what is and what isnt fetishistic

similarly to doing a positive racebend situation people may project lgbt+ headcanons on a character because its part of who they are and it helps them feel closer to the character and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that

depicting lgbt+ subject matter on existing characters isnt an inherently fetishistic action generally things only really become fetishistic when the media is being crafted and hyped by people who are outside of lgbt+ community for example how young teens used to flip a tit about yaoi or how chasers fetishize trans people

but drawing a character with top surgery scars or headcanoning them as trans is harmless and its just another way to interpret a character literally anone could be trans unless if their character bio says theyre cis and most of them dont go that deep so it really is open to interpretation and on the whole most creators encourage this sort of exploration because it is a good thing to get healthy representation out in the world

as for it being used to bully straights thats just funny i dont have anything else on that like if youre straight and you feel threatened and bullied because of someone headcanoning someone as anything that isnt cishet youre a fucking idiot and a weak baby idiot at that like the real world must fucking suck for you because lgbt+ people are everywhere and statistically a big chunk of your favorite characters arent cishet sorry be mad about it

lets roll down a bit further about the big meat of the issue which was when several artists were drawing interpretations of lydia as a black girl which i loved but clearly this person didnt love it because they have a very narrow and very racist and problematic view of what it means to be a black person

and before i move forward i must reiderate that i am a white person and you should listen to the thoughts of poc people like @fright-of-their-lives or @gender-chaotic it is not my place to explain what the black experience is like and it certainly isnt this persons either

implying that the story of a black person isnt worth telling unless if the character faces struggles like racism and prejudice is downright moronic

why use the word kissable to describe a black persons lips now thats what i call fetishistic and its to another extreme if youre talking about a black version of lydia on top of that

the author of this post says herself that shes white so clearly shes the person whos an authority on the black experience and what it means to be a black person right am i reading that right or am i having a fucking conniption

how about allowing black characters to exist without having to struggle why cant a black version of lydia just be a goth teenager with a ghost problem who likes photography and is also black like she doesnt have to move to a hick town and get abused by racist folks she doesnt have to go through any more shit than she already goes through and if you honestly think thats the only way to tell a black persons story you need to get your brain cleaned

you know nothing about the complexities about being a black person and i dont either but you know wh odo black people who are doing black versions of canon characters they fucking know

lets squiggle down just a bit further

so the writer has issues with giving characters traits like a broad nose or larger lips if theyre a woman but if theyre a man suddenly its totally okay to go all ryan murphy ahs coven papa legba appropriation when approaching character design like are you fucking stupid do you hear yourself is that really how you see black men like what the fuck is wrong with you

none of the shit youre spewing takes bravery it takes ignorance and supreme levels of stupidity

do you really think you with your fic where a black lgbt+ woman is tortured and abused where you use the n word with a hard r to refer to her like that shits not okay its fucking depraved and yeah we know you love being shitty but like christ on a bike thats so much

can we also talk about this

what the fuck is this fetishistic bull roar garbage calling this black character beyonce dressing her up in quote fuck me heels unquote are you are you seriously gonna write this and say its a shining example of how to write a black character youre basically saying ope here she is shes a sex icon haha im so progressive and i clealry understand the black experience hahahaha fuck you oh my god

on top of that theres a point where this character is only referred to as curly hair or the fact that the n word is used in the fic with the hard r like thats hands down not okay for you to use especially not in a manner like this jesus christ

oop heres a little more a sampling for you of the hell i am enduring in reading this drivel

oh boy lets put a leash on the angry black woman character lets put her in a leash and have the man imply hes a master like are you kidding me are you for real and what the fuck is with calling her shit like j lo and beyonce do you actually think thats clever at all are you just thinking of any poc that comes into your head for this

also lydia fucking tells this girl that she shouldnt have lost her temper like she got fucking leashed im so tired why is this writing so problematic and also so bad

hold up before i lose my head lets look at some of her own comments on the matter of this character and what happens to her

hi hello youre just casually tossing the word lynch out there in the wide open world as if thats not a problem that is still real like are you fucking unhinged there have been multiple cases of this exact thing happening in our firepit of a country in the last five months alone like how can you still have shit like this up for people to read how can you be proud of work like this in this climate

and also what the fuck is that last bit

what the actual fuck

i dont speak for black people as a white person but you do!? im sorry i had to get my punctuation out for that because wow thats fucking asinine just because one black person read your fic and didnt find the torture and abuse of your one black character abhorrant doesnt mean that the vast majority of people not only in the fandom but in the human population with decency are going to think its okay because its not

i started this post hoping to be level headed and professional but jesus fucking christ this woman is something else white nationalism is alive and well folks and its name is rae

if you defend this woman you defend some truly abhorrant raecism

editors notes

in order to get some perspective on these issues more fully some of the writing by the author was examined and on the whole it was pretty unreadable but i want to just call back to the very beginning of this essay where the person in question talked about holding canon in high regard but then in their writing they just go around giving people magic and shit and ignoring the end of the movie entirely like are you canon compliant or nah

the writing doesnt even read like beetlejuice fanfic it reads as self indulgent fiction you could easily change the names and its just a bad fanfic from 2007

also can we talk about writing the lesbian character as an angry man hater like its 2020 dude and als olets touch on that girl on girl pandering while beetlejuice is just there like here we go fetishizing again wee

i cant find a way to work this into this already massive post but

im going to throw up

okay so thats a lot we have covered a lot today and im sure my ask box will regret it but this definitely should have been more picked apart when it happened

please feel free to add more to this i would love more perspectives than just my own.

#long post #racism #raecism #im so tired #thanks for reading

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caseyjonesisinthehouse · 4 years

Photo

SORRY IVE BEEN INACTIVE SHIT’S BEEN HAPPENING

i know i’ve been doing reblogs and crap, but i kinda dont count those as actual posts because they were made by other people. BUT!! I have still been doing art, just not posting it. so im doing that now. i have a couple more pieces that are done but i havent put a signature on and im just scared theyll get stolen so ill post them when i add that. ok here we go explanations for the drawings above.

ok so the first one is of one of my fursonas, Mango. basically the story is that they are trans, mtf. the drawing above is them painting purplish/pink markings to celebrate their full transition. idk what the logistics of paint staying on fur after a sustained period are, just dont question it. in case youre wondering, she’s a bunny.

second drawing is of another oc, this time a goat deity named Eactle (pronounced Ektl). ok so he was actually designed by an irl friend of mine, but based off things ive done. his name comes from a spelling mistake i made when messaging said friend through teams online. i was super dead at the time and meant to say ‘exactly’ but i was super tired and it just kinda came out as ‘eactle’. the whole thing with him being a goat is also based off a series of notes/drawings me and my friend exchanged in class to amuse ourselves. the general storyline was that there was an immortal goat facing off against some omnipotent person/god/thing, and just them trying to kill each other and failing every time. basically the only part that matters is that the character i drew was a goat, so thats where that part of eactle comes from. aside from that, his design is just kinda random. either that or i dont know because i couldnt be bothered to ask about the clothes. he’s the god of crops and such, but being who he is he’s also a major trickster. dont let that cute smile trick ya, he’ll have taken your credit card and wallet before you can blink. uhhhhhh ill make a post with ALL the lore surrounding him at a later date, a lot of stuff is still in the grey area and also my friend wants to make a bunch more lore than we already have.

sorry this got long but idk things just happen i guess. promise ill have more art soon, idfk stay determined peeps.

#ahaha im so bad at this shit #holy FUUUUUCK #pls someone help me #i dont know anymore #but i mean hey ive got animaniacs and other stuff to keep me sane #damn the animaniacs reboot is good af #i mean i dont have hulu where i live but at least piracy is a thing #im not a yohoho pirate or an arrrrrr pirate im an im not paying to watch cartoons pirate #ok damn even the notes are long #fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck #digitalart #art #shitpost somewhat #digital art

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figuringouthowtobehere · 3 years

Text

please dont reblog this

i dont have many ppl to talk to. so here i am, screaming into the void that is my tumblr again.

im mostly posting this because im alone. im really really fucking alone. and im hoping i might, idfk, make a solid, trustable connection from tumblr??? idfk. im alone in the world.

please dont reblog this

cw family issues, su*cidality, abandonment, abuse, childhood abuse, trauma, being alone in the world

i have no one to go to. my entire life since i was a baby all ive ever been able to do is survive at the skin of my teeth. and here i am, 20, breathing, trying so fucking hard to live and, idk if im succeeding. im doing my film shit which is cool but. im alone. im on my own. im alone in the world. i never had parents. like, obviously i had parents, but they were never parents, dyou know what i mean? like the people who genetically made me were around but they were abusing me or just being awful or refusing to listen to me about what i needed from them, from their parenthood.

i had a conversation with my mom yesterday (after two days of not being able to get a hold of her and really really needing to) and i was basically just like ‘why cant you be my mom’ and she was like ‘i am your mom’ and i was like ‘well, yeah, but youre not--you cant--you dont mother me. and you dont mother me in the ways i need you to.’ and she was like ‘what does that look like to you?’ and i said ‘someone who i can turn to, always, someone who has my back no matter what, someone who respects me and what i need and who listens to me and trusts my experience and, yeah, someone who i can turn to always’ and she said ‘i mean i can talk with you on the phone, i can tell you what i think you should do, i can try to give you advice from my experience, but as far as someone having your back 24/7 always, i cant do that’ and we ended up talking about how im an adult now - and she was talking about it in the sense of ‘youre a grown man now, you dont need your mom like that anymore’ - and im like ‘ya, i am basically a grown man but i still need my mom. i still need parents.’ and i think im gonna end up cutting contact with her again because its too hard to simultaneously grieve her not being the mom i need and also talk to her. if im not talking to her then i can deal with the idea that i dont have a mother, that i dont have parents and i probably never will.

ive never really had people. i never really had friends when i was a child and i dont really have friends now. maybe its cause im trans, maybe its cause im autistic, maybe its cause im mixed, i dont know, but generally people in the world dont like me or it takes them a long time to not hate me. it doesnt matter why right now the point is i never had people (like, a support system) and i dont now.

so yeah im pretty seriously thinking about killing myself (or, trying to anyway). i dont wanna die but ive spent my whole life trying to just. be a person. and find contentment. and everything in my life ends up going awful or causing me a lot of trouble at some point or another. ive come to expect it. whenever anything happens in my life im just like ‘when will this go wrong. how long will it take this time.’ and im alone. im just fucking on my own. and i know theres lots of people who are and have been more alone than i am/have been and i admire these people so fucking much like GO YOU!! YOUFUCKING DID IT!!! HELL YEAH! im so proud of u. for real, i have so much respect for all yall reading this who have made it through shit and made it through being alone in the world. you fucking got this. youre doing it. good fucking job!!!!! ✨ but then. idk ig it doesnt take away from this being incredibly fucking difficult for me. pretty much everything in my life was fucked from birth to age 18 and now over half of everything in my life is fucked. which is better, for sure, but its still. ive never had a chance. idk it just seems to me like it doesnt matter. i can try and try and do all the therapies and take all the psych meds a psychiatrist might give me and i can meditate all the time. it just seems like im Doomed. (WOW i sound dumb and childish) like ik logically this is probably incorrect, that im not actually just.. doomed but thats how it feels. whenever a good thing happens im just waiting for it to collapse on me. and usually it does in way or another. generally not because of anything ive done or havent done, it just ends up being shit.

and then. ive never had anyone. i dont have anyone. im alone in the world. like its not that im ignoring people i do have or choosing to omit them from my mind right now. i have a singular friend in the place where i live; my other two friends both live in the states. i live with someone who was a support for me until like last ... july or so, i think, who now makes me feel like shit (they arent being malicious its just a bunch of issues in our relationship. theres more on that in stuff ive posted before, if you feel like digging through my posts for a while go ahead and youll find more on that) and i have like 5% (out of 100%) trust for them. i have a therapist who i see once a week and ik shes invested in me, but thats her job. and i cant just call her whenever i want. i have several people for film stuff but theyre either just casual pals and then colleagues or just colleagues. i know a lot of people, who dont really show any investment in me as a person or their relationship with me and who i dont really click well with. and thats it.

and im so. im so in love with Film. all of it. (not The Film Industry obviously.) im so fucking in love with it. the only real concrete reason that i wont end up killing myself in the next like month or two is because Film. and i just. need. people. i need parents. or something. fuck.

i think part of this is probably the long-term ramifications of ongoing childhood sexual, physical, and psychological abuse and never really having good, consistent support cause id be surprised if that didnt fuck with my brain (and, yk, untreated severe childhood brain damage from tbis beginning at less than a year old). but it doesnt really matter does it. ive been through the shit time and again and its not like anyone has appeared and been like ‘hello, i see you never had parents, this is who i am, would you like to get to know each other for a while and maybe i could be your mom?’ cause thats literally what i need. i need parents. like i know theres a thing of ‘if you didnt have parents then you cant undo that damage’ but like idk. if someone has a bunch of unhealed broken bones that got broken years ago that are now causing them a lot of pain you wouldnt just be like ‘sorry, i see youre in trouble from this shit, but because it happened years ago theres nothing we can do’ cause there is??? i forget how i was gonna say this before but like. i didnt have parents. with the ‘parents’ i had its a scientific anomaly i lived past age three. i refuse to believe that having Good Parents and a Good Support System now would do nothing for me. cause it would.

im also facing impending homelessness due to a) welfare/disability programs not giving you enough to live off and b) not having a roommate/not having support systems/not having people. so that doesnt help.

i dont know how to do this. im on my own. im doing all i can. ive reached out to everyone i feel like i could reach out to and. im on my own.

help. i guess. idk what that means but im, once again, at an incredibly fucking AWFUL point in my life and i need help. i doubt anyone will be able to but. if youre able to then. idk. do something. ik that i sound desperate and pitiful and i literally dont care at all because i literally am desperate for support and i literally am at - ANOTHER - extremely low point in my life and its pitiful. im cringing at myself actually posting this because its like ‘you think youre actually find what you need via a tumblr post? where are you? cause thats not real life dude’ but i dont fucking have people to talk to (as you have already understood 🙃) and im tired and tired and tired and tired.

if you took the time to read this i thank you and i hope ur day is going vvv well

please dont reblog this!!

#childhood abuse tw #tw #tw alone in the world #suicide tw #please dont reblog this #no rb #homelessness tw

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illusionlockarchive · 5 years

Text

pazam: a mess, truly a mess

so i usually dont do these kind of posts, i guess you could say its a call out of some sort? but i never liked that word, i prefer rather to just compile sources on WHY people would believe that a certain person is not truly as nice and understanding as they seem. consider this more of a psa post, detailing on whats going on with pazam on the sfm community, why so many people are against them.

So, a while back, tumblr user jymble made a post on the main tag stating that pazam was transphobic. they linked back to this post, which contains screenshots of pazam in a group chat stating that they do not feel comfortable with the idea of trans people. now, this did happen 9 months ago, true. however, for the record, pazam is already an adult, 24 years old, so they should have some tact. and as further and more recent events will show, they actually havent changed that much at all, at least not as they claim.

the screenshots should be in the post, but here is a transcript

[Screenshot one]

Pazam:

What????? Why?????

I literally HAVE NOT been doing ANYTHING malicious to them

And if it did I apologized

Yes I do have discomfort about them but I keep it to myself

Why are you doing this????

[End screenshot one]

‘Them’ here refers to trans people in general. Notice the defensive and victimizing stance they almost immediately take upon being confronted about their feelings on trans people.

[Screenshot two]

elliott:

of COURSE you dont

sammaku:

Like specifically

Elliott hush

Pazam:

This whole concept of transness and changing your gender physically

I hate to say it again but it weirds me out and it makes me question my own gender which flings me into anxiety, depression, and obsession

sammaku:

Its fine to not understand but are you willing to learn about it

Pazam:

I don’t want to talk about this anymore

sammaku:

That depression anxiety and obsession just comes with gender issues

(the rest of the text is cut off)

[End Screenshot two]

notice once summaku asks them if they would at least be willing to learn about it, pazam immediately deflects it by saying they dont want to talk about it anymore.

[Screenshot three]

Pazam:

Seriously??? That’s all it takes????

Wow I’m a moron

I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused to you

@.aziraphale @.elliott @.sammaku

I just don’t get this stuff period

And I’ve gotten into trouble with this stuff before

I’ll probably never understand it for the rest of my life but I’ll try to be more tactful around y’all

Especially since you’re all young

And I’m like an adult

[End screenshot three]

While at first this would seem like they had finally learned their lesson and apologized, the things they add on after the @s become quickly worrying. Not only do they admit to ‘have gotten into trouble with this stuff before’, meaning they have probably shown their transphobia in other places and been called out, but they also stand firmly on the fact that they will never understand it or ‘get’ it.

And of course, as jymble points out, the implication that the people they were talking to were only acting like that because they were young.

A while after this post was made, Pazam had posted an apology, and went onto contact jymble asking for the post with the evidence of their transphobic to be taken down. The reason? They were afraid people would see it and think they were still transphobic and not give them a chance.

In this more recent post, you can see the conversation play out between Pazam and jymbles. Long story short, Pazam feels that it’s unfair that that post is still up after they apologized, and jymble of course said they would rather not take it down, people deserve to know what they did and take their own conclusions, even if that involves avoiding them. How does Pazam respond? By flat out deleting the apology post. I’d love to show the apology post to give you both sides of the story but I cannot anymore, because Pazam in a very bizarre move just deleted it because they got mad a trans blogger wouldn’t take down their post with proof.

Here’s the transcript of the screenshots:

[Begin Conversation]

rebloggidy (Pazam’s personal):

I’m by no means transphobia-free after learning what I’ve done but at least I know my actions and am making an effort to be a better person towards trans people.

rebloggidy:

Hi again. So I hate to be that person but would it be ok if you took down that post about the transphobia claims? I know it took me 9 months to apologize but if people only see your side of the story and not realize the post I saw they’ll take it out of context and still think I’m transphobic. Do you understand?

jymble:

... i already told you im not taking down the post.

[jymble sends a screenshot of her own message in a previous conversation, the screenshot reads as follows:

however, i dont think im taking the post down, nor am i entirely comfortable with you interacting with me either. people deserve to know how you acted with this stuff, until youre really and truly *better* with it instead of just trying, and i was a direct target of it]

jymble:

you oughright told me "im by no means transphobia-free", word for word sorry, but i told you before. im not taking the post down.

rebloggidy:

I remember that. But what I'm trying to say to you is that if people who read it out of context will immediately think I'm still transphobic without the other side of it (my comment)

And I don't want people to think that in the future

jymble:

if people make assumptions without looking at the entire situation, thats on them

i am not deleting the post and thats final. people have a right to know what youve done, and they have a right to be uncomfortable

rebloggidy:

I'm ready to take down my post because frankly, I'm sick and tired of having to justifiy something that I did 9 months ago, and that people grow and learn even not 100% during that time and I'm ready to move on.

I'm still into smile for me and feel free to make a blacklist of my name so anybody who rbs my work on your dash can have it hidden or something.

Take care.

[End conversation]

a lot to unpack here, but perhaps most notable is when jymble simply stands her ground and tells pazam she wont take down the post, pazam straight up decides, without being told to or anything, that they should take down their apology. later on, they made a post stating why they deleted the post, and saying they had ‘been forced to’.

I also would love to link it here, but as of now of writing this, like, not even an hour or so after I had seen that post, it got deleted. The only memory I have of it is a conversation I had with my boyfriend about Pazam, in which I copypasted a fragment from that post that read:

“ So for those wondering where the apology post went, I was forced to delete it. I wanted to archive it in some way so I could pull it up for reference, but there was no way I could. Also I didn’t really want to see it every time on my blog because quite honestly it’s upsetting to look at.”

There are some lies and twisting of truths here. Pazam wasn’t forced to delete it, they decided they should do it as a way to somehow get back at jymble. And the excuse that it was upsetting for them to look at is just inexcusable, what matters most, letting people know of what youve done and that youre sorry, or just never addressing the situation?

But, well, I’m just hoping you’ll take my word for it. As you see, Pazam has officially deleted ANY traces of acknowledging this situation on their blog.

This worries me. If Pazam is truly as concerned that they will be seen as transphobic as they claim, why are they deleting anything that could give them a chance of showing their own side of the story?

Now, that is the end, for now, of Pazam’s history with transphobia. However! It is not the end for some other very shady things.

Namely, Pazam has consistently whitewashed characters from Smile For Me, specially Kamal, and when called out on it, simply deletes the asks.

Want to know how I know this?

I sent them an ask myself. I had come across this picture of Boris and Kamal:

And I knew that this wasn’t right. I can understand using light colors and doing watercolor, but if they can make Boris’ hair brown and vivid enough, why not Kamal? He looks like another character completely, or like he’s deathly sick!

So I sent them an anonymous ask, perhaps a bit exhasperated, true, and my wording could be better. It went something like: “i am begging you to draw kamal with darker skin”.

I waited, checked. But nothing came of it. They never answered it.

Pazam flat out ignored when they were told they had drawn a canonically brown man with skin way too light. Not even a lone text post saying ‘hey anon, i dont agree with you’ or ‘hey anon im sorry it wont happen again’. Nothing. No word, no opinion.

And with this situation going on with them evading responsibility, I can’t say I’m fully surprised.

And, yet another thing. People had expressed concern over the fact they had drawn their Flower Kid, who is 17, in very intimate and close positions with Dr. Habit. It included nuzzling faces, cuddling in bed together, wearing his coat...

And they did hear the claims this time. As of now, their Flower Kid is 24, according to them.

Except... They do not look 24. At. All.

this is a 12 year old. at best. short body, stubby legs, big head. those are all attributes of a very young character, usually children. like, legitimately, thats how childrens anatomy is in real life. the younger the person, the bigger their head is in proportion to their body.

We have already had an adult trying to justify drawing their flower kid who barely looked like an adult if at all in intimate situations with Habit. Let’s not let it slide by again.

And yes, I’m aware Pazam claims that those pictures were not supposed to be interpreted as romantic, ‘only platonic fluff’ and that they intend to keep it that way, but I have talked to my boyfriend who is a survivor and he said it very well could be a case of someone just trying to cover their tracks.

BUT, all that being said, maybe this one particular instance could be just us being wary. Still, it does not diminish all that they have done, specially ignoring the whitewashing claims.

What you are going to do with this information, I do not know. Maybe you don’t care and will keep reblogging their content. Maybe you’re disgusted by them. But I’m just here to give you the facts. Personally though, I’m not willing to give them much of a chance after the way they’ve behaved. They are 24 years old, three years older than me, and I think I could do a better job of handling a situation like this, frankly.

#don't be scared. i am here with you.#smile for me #smile for me game

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whatamidoingqueer · 4 years

Text

DISCLAIMER: JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS NEGATIVITY, rant about lack of lgbt rep in hollywood (i love the show, and i love what kenny ortega did with alex and willie, and i thought it was a beautiful story, and this is just me projecting my frustration that there isn’t more media like this. really its more of a rant.)

jatp really did the bare minimum for gay rep, and it’s still a million times better than pretty much every show out there.

like, we got two cis teenage dudes who like each other. one of them’s a white twink that loves dancing. they flirt, hold hands, hug. they get some cheesy lines that melt my soul. there’s no homophobia that they’re facing (internal or external). the word “gay” is said once throughout the show.

why does it have to be revolutionary???? why does this have to be such an anomaly???? we’re in 2020 and i feel like any show with a gay main character is a “gay show.”

im so fucking sick and tired of movies like the kissing booth 2 acting like they’re doing shit for gay people. two white boys kissing when neither of them are complex characters is not representation. it’s the producers trying to get “woke points” and cater to an audience who is trying to feel inclusive. it feels exploitative and shallow- i would have rathered they just didn’t put any gay people in there at all.

and even when there is a gay character with depth, they are usually still a skinny white cis teenage boy. their main character arc is usually either coming out or dealing with homophobia. and if it’s an adult show or movie, they usually die. and this is considered good representation.

i am supposed to be grateful for this.

like, what the fuck?!?!?

and a lot of the time, especially with kids’ shows, that kind of representation had to be fought for extremely hard. the writers had to fight the studio to show this much. and then, after the “gay season,” where any kind of semblance of representation is shown, the show gets cancelled.

just fucking show me a trans character, man. one who’s entire arc isn’t being trans. give me a bisexual girl, a lesbian grandma, a black enby. let a fat person be gay. show me a queer person of faith.

julie and the phantoms just gave me some of my favorite queer representation. there’s only 2 gay characters, and kenny ortega says he has 3 seasons planned out. and yet, i’ve already resigned myself to the fact that there’s most likely not going to be another gay character, especially not a main one. reggie won’t be confirmed as bi. luke and alex will never be canonically exes. julie, flynn, carrie, ray, carlos, bobby, nick: all going to be canonically cishet. and if you headcanon them as queer, fuck you- it’s already a gay show.

#my post #rant

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someone-always-cares · 5 years

Photo

[image description: a q&a for the webcomic someone always cares. full desc under the cut because its long and wordy sorry]

post chapter 3 Q&A

first - previous - next

thanks for yalls questions!! it was fun to answer! if anyone still has questions feel free to ask whenever i am always 100% down to ramble. even if i did go slightly off topic in some answers

additional: went off topic with the hair question a bit. their bright hair is all part of the transformations. regular hair dye does exist though. best way to tell is that if the eyebrow matches the hair its probably not dyed. also, quartz’s hair is naturally ginger.

also for more on ages, check out the character bios here

also was gonna keep this in the tags but thought i might as well actually try to answer it: the question i found it hardest to answer was someone the song one. my taste in music is. a mess really. ive been listening to like the same 5 songs on repeat all day. more under the cut because i was rambling again and now its uhhh half 1am

if it helps at the time of answering that specific question i had home by cavetown on repeat, and that song reminds me of both rami and lewis. but that may be because i project onto those two a lot, and as a aro trans dude. who sucks with people skills, yeah of course i love that song.

specifically the vibes of like not knowing how to communicate (rami is fine with his friends but other people are different), the lines “ Turn off your porcelain face, I can't really think right now and this place, Has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane” idk what the porcelain face line is supposed to mean but im picturing it as like. a mask. that you need to take off and stop hiding and rami does tend to hide when hes feeling upset, and the next two lines kinda could tie into that, like the feeling of when youre overwhelemed and just want the world to stop so you just hide somewhere. also the colours could go with chapter 3 with the chromatic abberation.

also the bit with “ my eyes went dark, I don't know where, my pupils are, But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here” just kinda sums up ramis whole hero thing with his powers and all. anyway this has turned into less what songs rami would like and why this particular song reminds me of him and lewis (lewis specifically has the hair cutting/chest hiding, [big transmasc mood], and also messy haired trainwreck who doesnt know who he is yet. also the ghosts bit)

i did end up picking upbeat songs because ramis a dude who like to try and be upbeat even if things arent. even if hes not really feeling it he will pretend to.

[full description: Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: “hi ily!!! do characters like quartz who have colored hair have that naturally or did they dye it?”

“its both natural and not! while most supers can do a magical girl ish transformation, including a change in hair colour, there are some exceptions.”

theres two small full body drawings of rami, one in civilian clothes, one fully transformed.

“if a superhero were to have a biological child, the child will inherit the powers of the parent(s). however, the child will not inherit the full transfromation. they do inherit any physical transformations, but not the outfit.”

theres a drawing of a woman in blue, quartz’s mother, fully transformed, holding her mask in her hand, smiling down at a much younger quartz as a child. hes smiling back up at her with the same blue eyes, pointy ears, and blue hair, but hes still in normal clothes.

“in the case of quartz, both of hisparents had superpowers, and he inherited those powers and the physical transformations.he can also pick and mix whatphysical traits to change.“

next is a headshot of adult quartz, his face split down the middle with one side having hair and eye like his mother, the other like his father. theres a list of traits from each parents, blue hair and eyes and pointy ears from his mum, and purple hair and eyes and pointy teeth from their dad.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: Are all the characters the same age? If not, how old are they? Are they irl friends or just superhero friends?”

theres some headshots of rami and his team lined up with ages labelled: cam is 15, rami himself is 17, lin, mateo, and dante, are all 18, and cap is 20.

“rami and xandra were somewhat friends before she got superpowers, so when, after the incident with her old team, she found rami had developed powers, xandra stuck close to him. their other teamates started off as superhero friends but soon turned into irl friends too”

theres a headshot of lewis and jade. theyre both 17

“when lewis first decided to start being a vigilante,jade quickly found him and decided to help train himand offered to be a mentor of sorts, as they both have similar powers. that quickly derailed.”

“ cinder5555 said to someone-always-cares: How long does it usually take to make a comic page? I'm curious because they're so freaking good that they must take FOREVER”

theres a drawing of myself, a fluffy hair tired bastard in a hoodie, smiling

“Thanks! Ive been doing this shit since like 2017 and i still have no idea how long it takes me. i can get a page done in a day if i have nothing else to do or if its a simple page, but if i have work then maybe 2-3 days? i spend like, most of my free time doing this.“

another drawing of me, now looking frustrated muttering “how the FUCK does time work”

“but i can never do it all on one sitting.i will inevitably get distracted and zone out daydreaming mid drawing so its very hard to get an accurate read on how long it takes. so however long a piece of string is i guess“

the only qustion not from tumblr is a discord message from RuneStone Cabin:

“Q: Can you talk about the incidence of superpowers in this world? Like many people are supers, which powers are more or less common, how long they've been a thing for, stuff like that. Also does Omen know I'd die for them “

theres a drawing of omen pointing at a date circled on a calender marked “decembuary”, theyre saying “i know. i already wrote your death in my calender.”

then a giant wall of text reading: “Supers have only existed for a relativly short time, since the early 1940s. momento mori was the second person to have ever gained powers.

Only a small number of the population are supers! the chances are higher in more populated cities, but unusally london has oneof the higher percentages of supers. while nobody in universe has any idea of the origins of superpowers, it does seem that powers are more likely to occur in people who would actually use their powers.

as for what powers are most common, after making a badly catagorized spreadsheet of every superpowered character ive made for this world (70% of which will probably never even be seen), turns out that elemental powers are the most common. although not all elemental powers manifest as the straight up 'controling this element' as seen in characters like lin or tsunami. for example, iris's powers would fall under shadow elemntal powers, but theyre a lot more weird that just controlling shadows.there are some abilities that have never been seen before,such as ressurection or full on time travel (aka anything that could bring a character back to life), but powers are certainly allowed to toe the line eg healing, powers involving undeath, immortality, pausing or manipulating time.

aside from that, anything goes. you could get plain old superstrength, but you could also get the ability to create dogs with your mind. other not quite rules, more guidelines are that supers are immune to their own powers hurting them (unless they were pushing themselves too hard), although the way the imminuties occur may be inconvinient to the super.

while some powers may be 'more powerful' than others, powers dont really get to be way underpowered or overpowered in comparision to others. sure being able to talk to animals may feel a bit useless compared to someone who can lift 4 tanks at once, but nobodys going to end up with a power like 'can turn into a goose but only once' or 'can grow toenails twice as fast' or 'if i sneeze i can change my hair colour'. at the same time, youre not going to get someone with the power to snap their fingers and level a city, or instantly blow up the moon or whatever.

“Anonymous said to someone-always-cares: I love rami PLEASE tell me his favorite song(s) and why. I will die for you”

a drawing of rami saying out loud “i dont really have any specific favourite song, really? i just listen to whatever sounds catchy and then listen to that on repeat for hours until i hate it. i guess i do like upbeat songs? ones that make you feel happy even if the lyrics are sad”

“ un1c0rnhh said to someone-always-cares: tell me,,, please,, cam,,, are they a cat person or a dog person?? ily"

theres a drawing of cam a metre away from a cat lying down. she has her arm out and is making ‘psspsspss’ noises at it. end id]

FUCK i am so glad i didnt hand write all of that, it would have been a major pain in the ass to write it all and then have to transcribe all that next. but nope i could directly copy paste the asks and word answers. cheers if anyone made it this far down. if anyone wonders why this is uploaded late, you know now.

#sac #someone always cares #sorry to my friends i rambled to about the previosly mentioned attempt at catagorizing powers #i made a fucking spreadsheet and everything #it was awful #also it probably obvious but i still have yet to download the font i use to this computer #did i ever mention what i named the font when i made it #because its called 'dicks out for the void' or something #it was funny back in mid/late 2017 ok

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faemytho · 5 years

Text

ds // onebizarrekai

so uh. tobin has some really nice headcanons.

tags: transphobia, homophobia, implied sexual assault, implied murder, coming out story, internal misgendering, unintentional misgendering

this is also very unedited bc im Tired, gay, and pls look at these trans boys i love them

-------------

The seed of a thought first planted itself when Dream had talked about her to the villagers. He'd been gesturing gently, spine ramrod straight and poised into the perfect picture of composure. A particularly nasty one yelled loud enough for Nightmare to hear.

"She's a witch, and she protects nothing but trouble!"

Nightmare had hidden under the covers the whole day after that, squishing her chest uncomfortably against the mattress and feeling sick to her stomach.

Dream didn't bother her.

----

She cursed, stumbling over the uneven pavement, her cape flying out behind her. Stupid fucking guards. Stupid fucking justice initiative. Where was her justice, huh?

"Did you think of that, Dream?" She muttered, slipping around a corner and inside the building she'd just rounded. She didn't stay long, fleeing out the back. She hated her voice, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She didn't exactly have time to either. You didn't have time to sit and dawdle when your best fucking friend was trying to hunt you down with his freaky ass wings and new glowing eyes and spouting off the same nonsense she'd heard from the villagers her whole life. She figured it was something that would happen, Dream turning against her, but she never thought he would go this far, to this degree. And it hurt.

Holding her breath, she pressed herself against the wall, peeking around the corner. Clear.

She'd live another day.

----

"Oh, Margaret, did you hear what happened at the Stonewall Inn?"

"Of course I did, everyone's heard of it by now."

Nightmare paused, listening in. She wasn't exactly sure why. But the two women sitting at the outside café said nothing else about it, and eventually went on their ways. Nightmare watched one of them reach out to squeeze the other's hand, gently, before they left. Lesbians, then. Not that Nightmare had a problem with them, but it was dangerous to be affectionate in public if you were queer.

She meant to forget about it, but Stonewall Inn nagged at her mind, and she went to go find it herself.

She learned a lot about herself that day.

----

Nightmare felt comfortable, for once. That was saying something. He hadn't felt very comfortable in his own body since that day in the village. At least the name 'Nightmare' wasn't gendered. He didn't want to change it.

He kept his hair long at first, only binding when he went out. He was proud of himself for even going this far in his presentation.

The first time it happened, the person was drunk and handsy, and Nightmare had frozen up, his skin crawling and no longer feeling like his own.

He cut his hair after that.

But it kept happening, more people, different places.

He didn't keep count.

----

How his skin prickled. Dream had caught him, but there were alarms going off, and for once it wasn't his fault. When all the guards left, he fled the cell, and ran right into a face he only just barely recognized.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from JR!" He snapped, grabbing them by the hand and dragging them with him.

He'd met Cross that day. Cross didn't ask him questions. Cross was useful.

Most importantly, Cross was a friend, and when Nightmare came out to him, he understood.

Most of it.

Error was the same way.

----

"Yo, Night, your binder's clean."

"Thank fucking god, you're a lifesaver Error, my lifeblood," Nightmare declared, his voice still light and floaty, and in his opinion, undermining his very important announcement.

Error muttered obscenely under his breath, tossing the fabric at him haphazardly from where he sat buried on the couch in blankets. Cross sat on the floor in front of him, mashing the buttons on his controller and hardly paying attention. Error sat down next to him, and Nightmare took the opportunity to shuck his top off and slip the binder over his head.

"You really shouldn't wear it at home," Error muttered, not looking at him while he pulled his top back on.

"Where the fuck else am I gonna wear it? Running for my life? Can barely breathe correctly after that, y'know," Nightmare snarked back, reaching out to gently flick the back of Error's head. His friend gave a little start, before turning his head back to face him.

"Well," Error started, unsure of himself now. He crossed his arms, huffing. "Still."

Nightmare snorted, burrowing back underneath the blankets. Life was good.

----

"You are going to come quietly, and you will not make a fuss."

Dream looked strangely cruel in that moment, and Nightmare hated it, his aura flaring lowly. The guards behind him held his wrists behind his back, and the guards beside him gripped his forearms tightly. He'd given up on struggling, figuring that it'd just be easier go and break out later. Error and Cross had gotten away, after all. They'd come back for him.

Dream turned away from him, calling back to the guards.

"Make sure she's properly restrained."

Nightmare felt as though he'd been dunked in ice cold water. He hadn't been called 'she' for a long time. It sunk down his chest like a stone, growing heavier and heavier, and he was suddenly very aware of his binder around his chest.

Ink, by Dream's side, watched him. Not that he noticed.

----

"I'm not sure why you thought changing your appearance so drastically would keep me from finding you."

Nightmare huffed, glaring at Dream from behind the bars on the door. He sat on the bed provided, his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd never hated his body so much before.

"I'm not sure why how I choose to appear is any of your freaking business, Your Highness," he snarked, and Dream's stoic expression twitched momentarily into irritation.

"It hardly matters much now, Nightmare. You've always been this way," Dream sighed, turning away from the cell.

Nightmare put his head down, tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

"Guard her cell."

Dream's footsteps faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, hoping Error and Cross would come soon.

They did.

They always did.

----

"You're trans, right?"

Nightmare stopped in his tracks. He knew it was dangerous to keep his back turned to Justice Reigns's top mercenary, but he was too shocked to do anything but freeze up.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he whacked it off, turning to look up into Ink's eyes.

"Why do you want to know?" He snapped, his voice that light and reedy tone he hated. Feminine. Not what he was.

"Figured it was worth asking." Ink shrugged, sliding his paint brush into the holder across his back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and Nightmare took a step back, tensing up. He didn't like how relaxed Ink was, half expecting an ambush from Justice Reigns guards.

"... Yes, I am. What's it to you?" He snapped, and he cringed silently, hating how high his voice was.

"Same hat. What pronouns?"

Nightmare stopped, blinking stupidly. "He, him. Why."

Ink shrugged again, a ghost of a smile twitching against his mouth. "You on hormones?"

"Uh, no? Nowhere to get them. Nowhere safe, at least." He gripped his staff tighter, knuckles turning white.

"I can fix that."

"You're not safe."

"You think Justice Reigns isn't safe?" Ink paused. "Don't answer that. My point is, I can get you hormones. I already get my own testosterone, nobody'll suspect if I'm the one to smuggle you some."

Nightmare breathed out slowly, hating the feeling of hope bubbling in his chest.

"I literally meant you, shitwit. Why would you help me anyways?"

"Not being able to pass isn't fun. It's free at Justice Reigns, you know. Binders, hormones, surgeries. All that shit. Not very 'just' to exclude you."

It didn't make sense to him, why Ink wanted to help. Maybe somewhere in there, Ink had made some alternate connection that Nightmare couldn't understand, because Ink had actually shown up the next week, handed him the case he said he would, and left. No ambush, no Justice Reigns guards, no Dream.

Life was great.

----

Life was, decidedly, not so great.

Dream stared down at him, eyes wide.

Calloused hands cupped his face, and Nightmare couldn't breathe, couldn't move as Dream's eyes flickered over his features, confused and uncertain. It was almost unbearable, seeing Dream without the spark of recognition in his eyes for him.

Nightmare coughed, and the sound came out deeper than it ever had before. His voice had changed, finally, thanks to the testosterone shots Ink was supplying him with. He didn't actually care who they were from, as long as he had them in the first place. Ink had been trustworthy in one regard.

"... Nightmare?" Dream started, and Nightmare took a step back, away from Dream's hands, reaching up to rub nervously at the stubble that had started to grow. Dream's gaze hardened.

"Nightmare-"

He fled.

Dream didn't chase him.

----

"Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"He."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Ink shrugged, flopping on one of the couches in Dream's office and pulling out his phone.

"I mean, not like he could just waltz up to you and say 'hey Dream, guess what I'm trans', you know?"

Dream let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And just how long have you been meeting up with her- him, to supply her- him, with these hormones?"

Ink snorted, looking vaguely amused at Dream's furious attempts to correct himself.

"A while now. I mean, dude's on the run, where else is he gonna get hormones he knows are safe?"

Dream sighed and dropped his head in his hands, slumping in his chair.

"I need to go through all his paperwork," he muttered, sounding vaguely horrified. Ink snickered, looking up from his phone.

"See? You're getting it."

----

"Stop him!"

Nightmare skidded around the corner, laughing gleefully and dodging a swipe from Ink's brush. Black paint splattered the wall beside him, and he hooked his staff into the building ahead of him and vaulted on top of it.

"Do not let him and his accomplices get away, Nightmare must be detained now."

From the rooftops, he could see Dream, giving orders in a voice that easily carried over the buildings. Dream caught his eye, and he grinned. He hadn't ever felt so euphoric before.

Dream raised a brow at his smile, a smile of his own rising from sheer disbelief. It made Nightmare cackle and continue running.

Error was just below, and Cross was fighting off the guards nearby.

"Nightmare man, c'mon!" Error shouted, ripping open a portal. Cackling still, Nightmare tumbled down from the roof, kicking against the wall and rolling to the ground. He knocked the last two guards over the heads and rushed for the portal.

"Nightmare, stop!"

"Shit," Cross swore, raising his knife and backing up slowly. Nightmare turned, and Dream stood there in the mouth of the alley.

"You can all come quietly, or we can take you back by force."

Nightmare snorted, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Sorry, got plans and my boyfriends said I can't. Maybe you can take me out another time, though. Dinner and a movie?"

Error snorted and Cross burst out laughing, and Dream, to their surprise, huffed and sheathed his sword.

"Insufferable. Very well then," Dream spoke, his face carefully blank. "Though I am choosing the movie."

Nightmare sputtered, and Cross immediately hooked his arms underneath Nightmare's, proceeding to haul him back through the portal.

Dream let them go.

#ds

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