#tw death faking

[icarustica]

u said u could make the last prompt angstier. do it i dare u

77 - "you were my best friend" round 2 electric boogaloo

(this one is actually on my archive page i'm very proud of it thank u anon for pushing me to finish it)

tw - implied major character death (none actually occur)

♥♥♥ sorrow ♥♥♥

“Listen, we’re out of wine, alright? The–the fucking besotted ladies who were all swooning over that fuckin’ bard bought us out, alright? The last I’ve got is this cheap Redania and that won’t… okay. Sure, I got it!” yelled the cook from across the bar. 

Geralt, midway through drinking himself into oblivion, blinked owlishly, looking up.

Bard.

He��d found himself in Lettenhove, chasing after a lone drowner traveling up the Sinet river. It ravaged every fishing operation it came across, and Geralt figured once the bastard was dead he’d have fishermen practically throwing coin his way.

“Uh-huh. And of course the flashy boy’s got a whole procession and everything,” scoffed the cook, once he’d snatched the last bottle of cheap wine from underneath the counter. “Everyone all dressed up. Throwin’ flowers. Singin’ that song about that witcher.”

Geralt rose.

The cook looked, and his ruddy face paled. His tirade stumbled to a stop.

“The bard,” Geralt said gruffly. “Jaskier?”

The cook nodded, suddenly solemn. “Y-Yes,” he said. To his credit, he wasn’t afraid. Just… nervous, for some reason. “That’s the one. Our own hometown hero.”

Geralt’s mildly tipsy mind raced.

Why would Jaskier be back in Lettenhove?

Why would there be a celebration in his honor?

His mind landed on the only possible answer.

Marriage. The damn bastard had gone and got married.

The wine - ladies who’d desired Jaskier throwing themselves into alcohol. The procession, the flowers - a celebration fit for a lord.

“Of course,” Geralt grumbled, taking the last swig of his tankard. Misery clawed at his gut - all the unsaid words. All the said ones, the terrible ones spoken in biting mountain air. The one I’d been lucky enough to care for… gave up on me.

Geralt swallowed, lashes fluttering as he turned. He gave up on me.

“Witcher,” called the cook as Geralt walked to the door.

He paused, turned back, and met the cook’s suddenly soulful brown eyes. The cook shifted, still clutching the wine. “If you want to find him… Appleshon hill.”

“When?”

The cook’s brows furrowed. He shrugged. “Any time you like.”

Geralt walked up the hill - steep, with just a sparse cobblestone path to guide him. On the way, he was stopped by an old woman with a cane. One of her eyes was milky blue. “Witcher,” she said.

Geralt bowed his head a little. 

“Where are you going?”

“To see Jaskier,” he replied. “The bard. I suspect there was some big fuss about him around here recently.”

She looked at him kindly, then toddled forward, reaching far upward to card her hand through his hair. She inspected it with the eye that worked, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “You are his witcher, then.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

He felt that sinking in his chest again, the unpleasant ache. “I don’t think he’s calling me his anything nowadays.”

“Hm.” Her gaze turned sad. “I suppose.”

And, without another word, she pressed a bouquet of scraggly wildflowers into his hands. Dandelions. Daisies. Little purple things Geralt didn’t know the name of. He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes firmly trained on their scattered leaves as the old woman turned away.

What a lovely gift, for a lover.

What a dismal apology.

He continued on his way.

Again, he was stopped, this time by a tall man dressed in black, with a large leather satchel. His face was drawn, gaunt. “Ho there,” he called. “Witcher.”

Geralt nodded, slid his eyes away, fully intending to keep going up the hill - he could see the crest now, the shambling stone wall dotted with ivy. Ten minutes, maybe five, and he would be there, closer to Jaskier than he had been in years.

He ran over his speech in his head - all the small things to say, all the large ones to hint at.

“Witcher,” called the man again, voice rough and broken. One dark eyebrow cocked. “What business do you have here?”

“Visiting a friend,” Geralt replied with a sigh, turning to face the other man on the path. 

“No monster-slaying?”

“No.”

“Ah.” The man cocked his head. “Say, if you were ever in the mood to kill a monster, and wanted it remembered… well, I noticed your bard has gone rather into retirement.”

Geralt winced.

“Too soon? Sorry,” the man chuckled, in his gentle timbre. “Well. I’m a writer, not a bard. My name’s Hoid - in case you’ve heard of my work. Perhaps the witcher would like to try stories instead of songs?”

For some reason, anger welled up in his belly. Geralt quieted it with a long breath, in and out. He assessed the man again, from the silver on his shoes to the black stubble on his chin. By all rights, he should have liked this man more than Jaskier - the easy way he talked, the simplicity of his clothing, the wickedness of the knife at his hip…

But it wasn’t Jaskier. It wasn’t his fucking bard. 

“No,” Geralt growled. “Never.”

The writer tilted his head forward in a single nod of acknowledgement. “I understand. Goodnight, witcher, and good luck.”

Geralt watched the man’s back for a long time as he made his way back down the cobblestone hill. 

The door was made of wood. And even Geralt, at his considerable height, could not see over the stone wall. He swallowed the lump in his throat, preparing himself for whatever may lay beyond it –

Jaskier, incensed. Yelling. Screaming at Geralt, ripping his paltry flowers to shreds.

Jaskier, happy. Having forgotten Geralt and his dirt and monsters years ago.

Jaskier…

Geralt swallowed, hand clenched around the wildflowers. He ran through his speech again, through the careful words that had given him the strength to climb those last few steps. Summoning courage, he pushed open the thick wooden gate.

Headstones.

Geralt blinked, and suddenly things seemed to move in slow motion - the crashing of an ocean miles away. The birds circling one bare tree. The headstones all dotted in a row, a tomb or two along the side of the gray wall.

He swallowed, feeling like the continent’s worst fool.

Time moved like a dream. He walked along the headstones, every running word in his mind frozen. He let the heads of the wildflowers scrape the top of the stones, reading name after name, hoping, praying, for something he was too terrified to name.

Nordand Allsor - A Loving Father

Ophela Dart - When The Wind Moves The Tree, Think Thee of Me

Stormund Brekker - Lover, Took Too Soon

Jaskier

Geralt’s mind almost didn’t register it. The last in the row, nestled beneath a tree. He stood there for a long moment, expression blank as he read it, over and over again.

JASKIER.

Bold letters.

Geralt knelt, knees thudding in the dirt. How could he have thought it was a wedding? The flowers, the sad looks, the sudden kindness to a witcher - it couldn’t have been anything else. Jaskier would not be in Lettenhove otherwise. Except to be buried.

Geralt shoved his hand in the dirt, some animal part of him wanting to dig up the fresh earth, needing to touch him, to hold him, to cradle him in his arms and–

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the cool earth in his fingers. Most of him couldn’t believe it, that his bard had gone and died without him.

Geralt slammed the flowers right below the headstone.

His chest shook.

It felt like–

It felt like Jaskier himself was trying to climb his way out of Geralt’s stomach and into his throat.

The thought of it almost made him laugh, the memory of Jaskier’s voice when it became panicked. How ridiculous the man was. The next time Geralt saw him, he’d tell him–

It thudded into him again. A relentless realization, a chain reaction of simple things, the simple fact that he was now a memory, just some man. Geralt imagined fifty years down the road, when he was old and slow and he would have to tell his brothers about the time he had a friend. The time when someone loved him.

“Fuck,” he said, and it shocked the silence away. Now he could hear his own shallow breathing, hear himself tremble, his heart thudding away in his ears. “Fuck.”

His speech.

He’d had a speech.

“I’m sorry,” he started, because that was the beginning, wasn’t it? That had always been the beginning, when he’d imagined this, Jaskier in front of him, gold and alive and sweet and gentle and tough and angry–

“Fucking hell,” he spat at himself. He rubbed his eyes with the hand not grasping at the dirt. He sat up, shakily breathing, trying to find some semblance of composure. He held onto his meditation with a white-knuckled grip, feeling his own spine shake like a tiny dog. He trembled, but he did not break.

He owed him that.

He owed Jaskier dignity.

“I owe you a lot,” he said. “I owe you my life, certainly.” He swallowed. “Friendship. Coin, probably. I think when you… when you left, off that mountain, I took some of your coin with me.” He grabbed his coin purse, and with shaking hands pressed all the gold coins he had into the dirt. “There,” he said. “I…”

He had to pause. To allow his racing heart to return to his body, to let his clouded mind settle on the dirt and the stone in front of him. The sky rumbled, unhappy with his meager apologies.

“I think, though, we both know our friendship is a lot more than an exchange at this point,” he continued, and the words cut up his throat. “I’m truly sorry, Jaskier, for everything I…” he trailed off as he stared at the headstone. 

JASKIER.

He reached forward to press his thumb into the indents. “You were my best friend,” he confessed, and the wind howled and tears pricked at his face. “In the whole world. The whole damn world. And I know it’s too late,” he added, hoarse. “Far too late. I should have been there to protect you, but I was a fool, Jask, I was a fucking bastard to you and I…”

He hung his head. “I wish I could be better to you,” he said, raw. “Give you things you deserve.”

Geralt swallowed.

“You deserve… me. If you want me.”

“Geralt?”

His eyes flew open, staring at the dirt.

Not a good time to start imagining things, Geralt.

“Melitele, I–”

Geralt turned his head, eyes widening, and–

There he was. Dressed in simple, plain clothes, a string of red around his neck, scruffy and long-haired but smelling of wildflowers and chamomile and apples–

Jaskier put a hand over his mouth.

There was a moment of silence, as Geralt, on his knees, felt his heart slow, then quicken, as shock thudded through him again. 

“I can explain,” said Jaskier quickly, holding up a hand. “Those were very nice words, okay, I just–I didn’t want to interrupt, it looked like you were having a moment–”

Geralt stood on admittedly shaky legs, looking at him, just…

He was alive.

The embarrassment of the moment was overshadowed by the beating heart he could hear over the wind.

One moment he had stood, the next he’d wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s very warm, very alive body, pressing his face into the space between Jaskier’s shoulder and his neck. He breathed him in, only briefly wondering if he was allowed this, allowed this contact, before Jaskier’s hands gripped him back.

“Now, listen,” said Jaskier carefully after a moment. “There was a very nasty escapade involving my mother wanting me back to rule over Lettenhove. I had to fake my death. It was really quite an adventure but I can see how you sobbing over my grave–”

Geralt grumbled, deep in his chest. “Not sobbing.”

“Practically sobbing. Really close, in fact.”

Geralt leaned back, and held Jaskier’s chin in his hand, feeling that pulse again. Alive, alive, alive. “Weeping,” he said very seriously.

Jaskier laughed, blue eyes twinkling. Then they faded. “Wait. You’re serious. Geralt, I’m fully prepared to forget what I just saw if you want me to. I swear, even the part about you owing me your life–”

Geralt brushed his hair out of his face. “Don’t joke. I was mourning,” he said, and his voice was still rough. “I never want to mourn you again.”

“Oh,” breathed Jaskier, soft as a whisper. “Well, that’s very–”

Geralt kissed him, soft as anything.

-♥icarusty

[kaysdenofchaos]

can you see them where you are now? they're pretty. i hope you're seeing them too

[notverycolonthreeofyou]

Happy I hate fireworks day 🥳

[wormboytrav]

pov: you're on tumblr in the death note universe

💟kira-kira4652 Follow May 24, 2007

friendly reminder that if you support L you're not welcome on this blog <3 i hope you know you're gonna get what's coming for you eventually

👨‍💻touchmyevilghost-deactivated387421 Follow May 30, 2007

kira supporters continue to make no sense lmao, you do know he kills people that think like this right

🏩xxgod-of-furyxx Follow June 3, 2007

Lord Kira will judge you. Real name is Joel Derm, link to face here.

👨‍💻touchmyevilghost-deactivated387421 Follow June 4, 2007

the hypocrisy of doxxing someone to kira while keeping their own face off their blog will never not be funny to me

#tw kira

15,248 notes

🌁los-angeles-reaper Follow Apr 14, 2007

gonna be liveblogging the new wara ningyo murder doc on netflix guys, keep an eye out! i'm so excited, they got the aesthetic spot on!!! ^-^

🚍muffinstory Follow Apr 14, 2007

gross. anyway you can donate to the family of the victims here, here, and here

🌁los-angeles-reaper Follow Apr 15, 2007

okay wow, god forbid i have comfort media. if you're going to stalk the tag to spam that shit you might as well block it. i'm literally neurodivergent and a minor too imagine being a grown adult arguing with a child on the internet.

#true crime discourse #wara ningyo murders #straw doll documentary

148 notes

🎁milkpuzzle Follow July 8, 2007

why generation 1 had the best bionicles, an analysis

Read More

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 8, 2007

kys

🎁milkpuzzle Follow July 8, 2007

you can leave if you're not having fun, mello

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 8, 2007

fuck you i hope you get run over by a bus

3 notes

🎰tsukigod Follow May 2, 2007

Desk Setup Inspo

#clean aesthetic #stationary #follow for organizing tips

9,257 notes

👔wirewerewolf Follow Apr 5, 2007

oh my god i'm just trying to go to my sister's college entrance ceremony in peace and these two dudes in the front row will not shut the fuck up i hate it here

👔wirewerewolf Follow Apr 5, 2007

update: one of them is barefoot (?????)

295 notes

🎩official-l Follow Sep 26, 2007

Due to an overwhelming amount of spam, asks have been temporarily disabled. Updates to follow.

🎹 gaming-matto Follow Sep 27, 2007

visual representation of your ask box once i'm done with it

🎩official-l Follow Sep 28, 2007

What does this mean

125,638 notes

🔋littlevanishworld Follow July 8, 2007

okay but does anyone else think L and kira are the same guy

🔋littlevanishworld Follow July 9, 2007

no hear me out on this, they appeared at the same time, which is pretty convenient. and despite L supposedly being a great detective i can find no evidence of cases he's solved in the past and he obviously hasn't solved this one yet. so he's either kira or he's stupid

🎫chocolate-marsh-m Follow July 9, 2007

bad take op

#you guys just dont understand him like i do #he's smarter than youll ever be

351 notes

🧇thebazoinka-deactivated28479912 Follow Oct 24, 2008

✨KIRA SAFETY SPELL: like to charge reblog to cast✨

🎍taro-matsui-here Follow Dec 2, 2008

Claimed! 🙌

11,689 notes

[t0talbra1nd3ath]

More sona x Strade art because YOU CANT STOP MEEE, it’s kinda crappy but whatever

[kalpeavaris]

"Silence fell upon the battlefield."

It took less than a few seconds for the Disassembly Drone to be engulfed by hatred towards the man who had taken the shot, immediately extending his bladed wings and storming towards him. [...] N wanted them to perish, and he wanted to make sure it was by his hands.

A scene from my MD: Echo fanfiction I recently wrote and felt like visualizing. Damn, this hurt me deep in my soul to write and draw, but on the other hand, emotionally charged scenes are... surprisingly interesting to construct. Can't wait to publish the first few chapters for this fucking rollercoaster.

Anyway, yeah, if I tag something with "major character death" I mean it. OR DO I? :)

[thatsbelievable]

[zeros-stimblog]

Is it really a complex, or just lacking context? Why would someone go so far to be a walking lie?

A Beginners Guide to Faking Your Death stimboard with stims I recorded myself of my vinyl of the album, crow stims, blood stims and coin stims!

🩸 | 🪶 | 🫀

🪶 | 🫀 | 🪙

🫀 | 🪙 | 🩸

(Credit if you use any of the Jhariah specific stims!)

[fearandhatred]

could not get this idea out of my head so i present vulture crowley as death <3

[tetzoro]

getting called out by my boss for not being ‘my usual cheery self’ at work when she knows full on why i’m upset

[bl00dyghoul2]

I drink your blood

and I eat your skin

[one-time-i-dreamt]

During my grandma's funeral, my brother didn't show up and I got sent a news article telling me that while he was doing homework, the house fell on him and he was in the hospital.

I told my aunt and she told me it was fake news and so my brother shows up, totally fine.

[kaysdenofchaos]

NOOOO I THINK IM TOO LATEEEEEE😰😰😰😰😰😰😰

If I’m not, then can we see some stupid BS!Disater twins, or BS!Donnie angst???? LOVE YA!!!!

Battle Scars AU: Shots Fired

the beginning of Leo's insomnia :3

Referencing this chapter from the Prologue

:)

~~~

Battle Scars AU Masterpost || Commission Info

[notverycolonthreeofyou]

Never underestimate the power of love (and death threats)

[winniethewife]

I'm getting what is mine (William Tell x F!Reader)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.  Kidnapping, Sensory deprivation, Non-con, Stockholm syndrome, Drugged, PinV, Fembodied, Oral sex, Bondage, unprotected sex, toxic relationship, Fake Death

Minors DNI

For @romana-after-dark 's Dead Dove Do Not Eat December.

Words: 1162

Just call my name, I'm yours to tame…

I'm wide awake, I crave your taste

All night long 'til morning comes

I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours,

It was Dark, Silent, and the gag in her mouth made chafed slightly at the sides of her mouth. The blindfold around her eyes was secured tight as were her hands, tied together behind her back. She had noise cancling headphones over her ears. Whoever had done this know what he was doing. From what little she could tell she was on a bed, the sheets weren’t every comfortable. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, clad only her bra and underwear, the cold air of the room on her skin. Suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder, she flinches at the touch. It’s oddly gentle, the rough calloused hand caressing her shoulder, then down her arm, lifting her hand, Pressing lips on her fingers and slowly but surely up her arm. A chill runs up her spine, she’s not sure what she’s meant to do, such gentle actions in a situation that was far from gentle. She lets out a soft involuntary whimper, this causes William pause. 

This was something he had fantasized about for a long time. Just taking what he wanted, it had seemed so easy when he had started talking to her at the bar of the casino, when he bought her a drink and slipped the tasteless powder in her drink, when he got her back to his motel room where she was out cold. But it seemed a little harder watching her over night. He hadn’t tried anything yet, showing restraint, just sleeping next to her unconscious body, after making sure she couldn’t get away of course. In the morning when she started to wake, he positioned her on her knees, then watching her squirm and twitch in fear, until finally… he was ready. But that soft innocent sound, that was what made this just slightly harder.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” He says softly, knowing she can’t hear him, he wonders if he’s saying it to reassure her or keep himself accountable.  He doesn’t think about it very long before moving to lay her down, his mouth moving along her body, his fingers curls under the elastic of her underwear, pulling them down gently. She lets out a sob, terrified. For her every touch was so intense. Every single time his lips made contact with her skin, every move he made, when he pushes her legs to the side, when he trusted into her…It was all so much, too much. Tears soaking the blind fold as she cries out, terrified of every second, terrified of her own bodies reaction, terrified of what will happen next.

~

Two days pass, William does everything to take care of her, something she doesn’t expect. He makes sure all her needs are taken care of, but he doesn’t ever take off any of the sensory deprivation devices, just the gag. She has barley spoken a word, just letting him know when she needed to use to the bathroom or she was done eating or something similar. But that morning when she woke up, she realized she could hear the soft breathing of the sleeping man who held her tight. She gasped slightly as he pulls her in closer. His mouth on her earlobe.

“Hello Beautiful.” He whispers in her ear then bites down softly on the helix of her ear. The voice, it calls back the image, the handsome man at the bar with the slicked back hair, and a handsome face. 

“William.” She is shocked, her whole body freezes. It’s all starting to come together now. William kisses her neck and hums softly.

“Yes...God you’re so pretty baby. And you’re mine.” He growls in her ear, pulling her in close, thrusting his hips into hers, she feels his cock against her. A soft moan escapes her lips. She feels instant shame as she does so. William huffed into her shoulder, moving his hips into hers, snaking his arm down to her cunt, running his fingers through her wet folds, drawing more soft moans from her. She doesn’t know what to feel as he moves her body, parting her legs and finding his way with his mouth to her heat. Running his tongue along her slit his thumb rubbing circles on her Clit.

“No, No, No, Please, Please…Ngh.” She tried to move away, tried to make an effort, but he easily held her down as he moved to pin her. “I said you’re mine.”

~

This became her life after that. She was his, and that was her only reason to exist. She loses track of the time she’d been in this one motel room, but slowly she earns the ability to see, to be untied, to do things on her own. Over time she doesn’t even think about her life before, this was her life now, and at some point she hardly recognized herself. She was waiting for William to return after one of the now rare occasions that he left. As He came in the door she stood up from the bed, excited to see him. Like a dog who’s master had been gone all day.

“Hey, look at you, so pretty for me.” He says as he looks over her, she’s wearing one of the outfits he bought her, they don’t cover much, but he likes it that way. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her in to kiss her cheek, then deeply inhales her scent, burying his face in her neck. He nips at the sensitive skin under her jaw. She lets out a soft mewl as he does so. “Mmm…That’s it…Who do you belong to?”

“You, William…Only you.” She answers. Her hands wrap around his shoulders as he growls in appreciation.

“That’s right baby…You’re mine.” His voice is low as he presses his tongue on one of the Hickeys on her neck, a physical reminder of his ownership. After a moment of appreciating his prize he pulls away and looks into her eyes. “You’re ready, sweetheart. We’re hitting the road tonight babe, just you and me, gonna show the world who you belong to now.” He smiles softly, an unusual look for him. She smiles back.

“I’d follow you anywhere, Darling.” She whispers, she means it. She would follow him to the ends of the earth.  She was entirely enraptured by him, not even a thought of what he had done, how she got in this position in the first place. None of it mattered.

“That’s my girl…” His lips meet hers and they move together in sync. He got exactly what he wanted, and all it took was a little persuasion, a bit of patience, and convincing the entire town that this girl…was dead. Now she was his, and his alone. They would leave in the morning around 10, when everyone who knew her buried another woman’s body.

And she was none the wiser, her mind, body and soul were devoted to him, and him alone. ~

Masterlist

[ohara-n-brown]

[WARNING: Rant]

Sometime made a post going 'Love the trans women in your life while they're still here'

Someone added 'Trans men and Nonbinary too!'

And this was the response.

My response: Cut this shit out, you're acting literally ridiculous.

First of all - no it's NOT an All Lives Matter moment.

ALL LIVES MATTER was created by white people who DON'T experience racism to silence the experiences of those who DO experience racism and die at the hands of it.

A transmasc or nonbinary person saying 'Us also!' is a not the same.

It's a group of people who DO experience transphobia adding to the experiences of those who ALSO experience transphobia.

It's A LOT MORE like a black person going 'BlackLivesMatter' and sometime commenting '#StopAsianHate too :)' and OP going 'wow fuck you read the room you're being racist.'

That's like a Gay person speaking out against homophobia and how it's wrong. And then a trans person says 'Transphobia too!' and suddenly it's 'Read the room. This isn't about y'all. Why do y'all have to bring yourself up always. This isn't about gender. Read the room-'

Sounds familiar to y'all? It should. I'm reading the room and the room is saying you just fucking hate another group of oppressed people lol

Another oppressed person who experiences the same violence as you adding their voice to your choir is NOT the same as white people using their privilege to silence others who experience racism when they themselves don't.

SECOND OF ALL - (tw death mention under cut)

YEAH THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ADD 'Celebrate your trans brothers while there here' on a post you know..

considering a transmasc non-binary person got fucking beat to death on school grounds exactly a month ago.

Remember that??? The one whose death is being actively covered up by school, law, and state officials on a systemic scale??

Also - a fucking trans man from NJ is still missing as we speak (Elliot Ganiel)

But calling attention to that is like being a MRA??? Talking about a children deaths in a school bathroom and missing people are like being MRAs whose main concerns are women playing video games or some shit?

No. No it isn't.

Y'all misusing terms like MRA and yelling 'That's like all lives matter!!!' clearly show youdon't understand how oppression works in the slightest.

If you try to compare any white racist movement to an oppressed group of people - YTA.

One of us gets fucking killed with no justice, LGBTQ crisis line calls skyrocket, and when asked about it state officials say and I quote 'We don't want that filth in our state!!'

- and when we talk about it amongst people in our community it's 'read the room!!' or 'wow really MRA like'

Fucking bite me.

And before - 'Oh but they didn't have to put it on THAT post, they could've made their own'.

Did you not hear what I just said. A transmasc teen was beat to death and misgendered publically statewide.

Maybe transmascs would like to feel included by the community at this time? So they can feel safe? Safety in numbers? And maybe want to feel like the wider community cares when shit like this happens - which clearly.. y'all don't.

Cause when a transmasc kid is literally killed - and we see a post saying 'Love your transfemme friends whine they're here!' and add the same - only to be told to read the room - it tells us 'You only have a month or so to morn. They died last month? Why are you bringing it up now on a post about appreciating trans people before their death??? Read the room. That was for us only. Stop trying to hog all the attention'.

Like damn sorry for wanting to feel like my community would care if I got wiped off this fucking earth silly me. Silly us.

When we start the conversation on our own we're ignored. When we try to contribute our experiences to other conversations we're told to shut the fuck up and read the room and then compared to actual racists and sexists.

You constantly compare us to people who DO NOT face oppression - cis men and white people - in order to silence us, despite the fact you know we face oppression in ways both groups could never even imagine. You think you're slick. You're not.

BITE ME. HARD.