#idk how this happened but

[redmyeyes]

how soon is now

the stuff i could never tell you— maybe you picked up on it, you were always in the background watching. i'd catch your eye in the rearview, my hand on his thigh in the front seat and i'd swear you knew. you always looked away so fast.

there was this one hunt gone bad, you probably remember, you cussed me out about it after, you were waiting up 'til three a.m., worried sick i guess, but it always came out like anger in those days. shifter sliced his shoulder open, had him pinned up against a tree and i nailed it in the back, i was so scared i just about blacked out and the next thing i remember dad has his head tilted back and he's laughing. full-on crazed laughter like he can't stop, with this dead shifter collapsed at his feet. i came up slow, spooked or not wanting to spook him, and i put my hand on his good shoulder and i said, dad? and the laughter dies down and he looks at me with his eyes all watery and just— lays his hand on my head. ruffles it, like he woulda done when i was five, and I wanted to drop to my knees. I wanted to burrow my nose deep, where the smell was the strongest, and I wanted that hand heavy, pushing, pressing, pulling.

and we just stood there for i don't know how long, me with my hand on his shoulder and him with his hand on my head and i couldn't breathe. and then he lets out this huff of a breath and he shakes his head like he's just witnessed something unbelievable, and he gives my head one last ruffle and pats my cheeks quick, buck up, boy, and then his thumb drags slow over my lip and pulls it down.

and that's it, then we get back in the car and drive back to you and you stitched him up and he sent me out to get bandages, maybe to cool down, i don't know, i don't know what i would've done then if you hadn't been there. Anything. Everything.

when i get back it's business as usual, he's joking around and he's even got you smiling a bit, and you've got his shoulder cleaned out and his shirt is a bloody mess on the table. he winces when he rolls his shoulder, and he says, man i reek, and, dean you wanna help me out in there, and he nods to the bathroom door, and it's phrased like a question but it's not.

so i jump up and start the shower, get it scalding like i know he likes, and he strolls in, bare-chested and barefoot, and he leans into the half-fogged mirror and twists, tries to see the stitches, says, how's it look, buddy, think i'll survive? and i come up close behind and i brush my fingers over the heated skin of his shoulder and i say, stitches look good dad, sammy did a good job. and he chuckles and steps away, and i sit on the closed toilet, staring down at the grody tiles to give him some privacy while he shimmies out of his jeans and underwear one-handed, his other arm hanging limp. he gives himself a tug and he says, keep your old man company, you know bathroom accidents kill more people a year than car crashes, and i say, is that true, and he laughs and says, got no idea kid, and then he steps into the tub and pulls the curtain closed behind him.

it's a messy close though, and i can see slivers of skin through the gap. besides, the curtain is one of those cheap plastic clear ones, and as grimy and fogged up as it is, i can still make out the blurred form of him, the way he tilts his face up into the spray, hissing when the water makes contact with his shoulder. and then i see his other hand move, low and rhythmic, and his voice is gravel when he says, you ever get that post-hunt high, when you've just missed death and the adrenaline kicks in and gets your blood pumping? just making conversation, but he's stroking himself and i know he knows i'm watching, and my cock's thick just from that and my hands are digging into my knees through the denim and i say, yeah, but it sticks in my throat and comes out cracked. and i say, dad, and it feels like a plea but i don't even know what i'm asking for, and he says, don't, sharp as a whip crack. his hand speeds up though, and after a minute there's a grunt, a sigh, a whispered, fuck, and then the water's shut off and he's stepping carelessly out, drying himself with one of the threadbare towels and wrapping it loosely around his waist. he looks down at my lap, at the tent i'm sporting, and he says, should still be some hot water left, and then he leaves the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

when i come back out five or ten minutes later, he's already in his bed and you're already in ours, and the only light left on is the one on my side. i don't think either of you are sleeping but you seem like you are. by the time i slide into bed beside you, i'm half-hard again, just from the memory, from the impossibility of what just happened, but i don't jack off because it feels good to be wanting.

nothing happened, so what was i supposed to say? and after that it got harder and harder to tell you anything. anyway, i liked having something that was just for the two of us. but sometimes i'd catch your eyes sliding away and i'd feel guilty for being so selfish. if you can believe such a thing.

--

for @egipci, who asked for a prompt, and i gave one, but it stuck in my head and i accidentally wrote it myself.

[iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid]

funniest news blurb i've ever seen actually. "there was a plot to kill trump last weekend. no not that one. totally different one. we figured out about it beforehand though so we heightened security at the rally. yeah that rally. yeah the one where-- yeah. yeah that one."

[splatoonlink]

HELP i was watching off the hook perform and the angle i was at makes it look like pearl is being repeatedly set on fire 😭

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[the-creat0r]

ITS JOEVER

[verathena14]

most important thing about the eclipse:

whatever you do, DON'T listen to some stuck-up calico claiming he caused the sun to disappear! he'll dethrone your leader and become a dictator btw

[rythyme]

a lot of the popular "queerbait" ships are just "these two characters are friends / they stood close together once" but every once in a while i'll stumble into an unfamiliar ship tag and see shit like "in episode 169 Scrungko gives Blorbis multiple prostate orgasms with an anal vibrator while pretending to date him" and like. idk what the hell is going on there. but if it's not queerbait then they just invented something even more insane. maybe y'all are right sometimes.

[trans-axolotl]

one of the reasons it's really hard for a lot of intersex people when intersex topics are on the news cycle is because the public's reaction reveals how little anyone knows or cares about intersex people, including people who call themselves our allies. almost every time intersex topics are trending, the discourse surrounding them is filled with misinformation. people who only learned today what the word intersex means jump into conversations and act like an authority. endosex/dyadic/perisex people get tripped up over things that are basically intersex 101, with tons of endosex people incorrectly arguing about the definition of intersex, who "counts," DSD terminology, and so much more. i've seen multiple endosex people say today that they've been "warning intersex people" and that we should have known that transphobia would catch up with us eventually, which is an absolutely absurd thing to say given the fact that consistently over the past ten years, it has often been intersex people sounding the alarm on sex-testing policies and also the fact that many, many intersex people are also trans, and already are facing the impacts of transphobia. there is an absolute failure from the general public to take intersex identity seriously; people seem not even able to fathom that intersex people have a community, history, and our own political resources. instead, endosex people somehow seem to think they're helping by bringing up half-remembered information from their high school biology class which usually isn't even relevant at all.

and this frustrates me so fucking much. not because i want to deny the impacts of transphobic oppression--i'm a trans intersex person, trust me when i say i am intimately aware of transphobia. this frustrates me because there is no way we can achieve collective liberation if our "allies" fail to even engage with basic intersex topics and are seemingly unaware of the many forms of intersex oppression that we are already facing every fucking day. if you are not aware of compulsory dyadism, if you are not aware of interphobia, if you are not aware of the many different ways that intersex people are directly and often violently targeted--how the fuck do you think we're going to dismantle all of these systems of oppression?

if you were truly an intersex ally, you would already KNOW that this is not new, and would not be surprised--interphobia in sports has been going on for decades. you would know that we do have a community, an identity, a history--you would have already read/listened/watched to intersex resources that give you the background information you need for allyship. you would know that although there is a really distinct lack of resources and political education, that intersex people ARE developing a political understanding of ourselves and our oppression--Cripping Intersex by Celeste Orr and their framework of compulsory dyadism is one example of how we're theorizing our oppression. It's absolutely fucking wild to me how few people I've seen actually use words like "interphobia" "intersexism" "compulsory dyadism" or "intersex oppression"--endosex people are seemingly incapable of recognizing that there is already an entrenched system of oppression towards intersex people that violently reshapes our bodies, restricts our autonomy, and attempts to eradicate intersex through a variety of medical and legal means.

you cannot treat intersex people like an afterthought. not just because we're meaningful parts of your community and deserving of solidarity, but also because intersex oppression impacts everyone!!! especially trans community--trans people will not be free until intersex people are free, so much of transphobia is shaped by compulsory dyadism, the mythical sex binary, all these ideas of enforced "biological sex" that are just as fake as the gender binary.

it makes me absolutely fucking livid every time this shit happens because it becomes so abundantly clear to me how little the average endosex person knows about intersex issues and also how little the average endosex person cares about changing that. i don't know what to say to get you to care, to get you to change that, but we fucking need it to happen and i, personally, am tired of constantly being grateful when i meet an endosex person who knows the bare minimum. i think we have a right to expect better and to demand that if you're going to call yourself our ally, you actually fucking listen to us when we tell you what that means.

okay for endosex people to reblog.

[thecoolsquirrel]

Sick!Yuu and Ace 🥺

[heartorbit]

searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone!

[hinamie]

sidelong

[t4t4t]

Hi !

I got bottom surgery on July 25th :3

I'm recovering well but I'll be on bedrest for a while. Collie and I will need rent help for September/food/gas/utilities/etc. Two disabled trans women. Anything helps ! Thank yall so much for all you've helped so far, it's saved my life ❤️

https://venmo.com/u/nora-esther-rose

https://www.paypal.me/NoraEstherRose

https://venmo.com/u/Leah-Esther-Rose

https://www.paypal.me/androgynophore

[shepscapades]

Your highness… I don’t feel so good

[cerealmonster15]

well he did his best. i think. 😔

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."

[windwenn]

The ship in question being fox mulder and The Poster