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snitches-at-dawn · 3 years

Text

timing’s a bitch || d.m.

definitely not based on my life rn. i am not simping for my bsf no way sir.

anyways, i’m alive.

enjoy<3

muggle!draco x muggle!reader au

your phone screen lit up next to you.

'u up?' - draco

you grinned, 'who's asking👀', you texted back.

'open the door i'm walking over'

'yeah right you'll take 20 mins to do your hair call me when you're actually here loser' you texted back.

you grew up with draco malfoy and blaise zabini living a lane away from you. you were in the same grade and had parents who got along like a house on fire. you went to the same school and rode on the same bus, only to come home and play together in the evenings.

as childhood rolled around into adolescence, the tree swings which witnessed shared candies saw secrets and stolen swigs of alcohol from your parents stash.

you weren't particularly fond of draco and he wasn't your biggest fan either as kids. you handled each other around blaise because you were his best friends. you sort of just... lived your lives around each other even though you him and blaise were always together. it was odd but neither of you questioned it too much.

slowly though, you both grew. you stopped being an self-righteous know-it-all, he deflated his ego and surprisingly enough the two of you got along like a house on fire. you cracked the same 'that's what she said jokes,' loved each other's music tastes and became inseparable during the last two years of high school.

as you and blaise celebrated that you'd be attending the same university, essentially chucking you in the same city for at least the next four years, draco was on the opposite side of the country. it sucked. especially considering that you liked him. ‘like’ liked him. got-butterflies-in-your-stomach-when-you-thought-about-him-couldn't-dream-of-leaving-him liked him. perfect. you were due to leave for uni in three months when you realised you liked him. timing was great. to make it even better, you had decided to tell him tonight. three days before your flight.

your phone pinged again. 'get the door'- draco

'omw'

you creaked the door open, trying to not wake your parents as they had just settled in for the night, "shh, mum and dad just went to sleep."

draco deadpanned, "it's midnight."

you shrugged, "they're old."

"you're a bitch."

"you're best friends with a bitch so hah," you rebutted.

he sighed at you and pulled you in for a hug. you breathed in his scent. it was so cliche- to love the person you're attracted to's scent, but his was... god it was intoxicating. your hallway flooded with his cologne scent and you knew you'd be taking a moment to yourself every time you approached the door tomorrow to get another sniff.

“what’re we watching?” he asked softly as you both padded up the stairs to your room.

“i was thinking maybe star wars?”

he stopped on the last stair, “no. no way. we saw it last week.”

“right and we’ll watch it again.”

“just because you simp for kylo ren-”

“how could i not simp for kylo ren?”

you bickered in low voices till the both of you had settled into bed, leaning on each other and started ‘dumb and dumber’ on your laptop for the millionth time. as per usual, you both ended up on your phones, scrolling through tiktok and instagram, showing each other posts.

draco nudged your shoulder, “y/n. i’m hungry.”

nuzzled into his shoulder crook you replied, “go make something then. i’m asleep.”

“no you aren’t. get up.”

“mnghhhhhhh,” you moaned.

“i’ll let you have coffee even though it’s four am,” he crooned.

you glared at him as you got out of bed and pulled on socks, “you can’t just use my coffee addiction to get what you want.”

he threw a wink at you as you both made your way to the kitchen.

“what’re you making?” you hopped up onto the counted and asked.

“well what do you feel like?” he asked, examining the contents of the refrigerator.

“nothing but i’ll eat some of your food if i like it,” you shrugged.

“how about... erm... pancakes?”

you grinned, “perfect.”

draco knew your kitchen as well as you knew your own, and it worked the same way at his house. he pulled out flour, eggs, sugar, milk and every other ingredient without even stopping to ask you where everything was, as you weaved around him making your coffee.

back onto the counter with crossed legs and sipping your coffee, you watched him deftly pour the batter from the bowl into the pan. he smirked as he noticed your eyes on him, “wanna see a flip?”

“yeah!” you exclaimed, sitting straighter as the pancake flew superbly into the air and landed on the floor to which you snorted, “well done, idiot.”

he frowned, “you do it then if you’re so clever. go on!”

“oh but darling i never said i could,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

he shook his head at you with a smile, “piece of shit.”

you winked at him, “you love it.”

“that i do. okay here have a bite,” and he handed you a plate with a pancake.

you bit into the pancake, not caring about cutlery, “oh god that’s horrid.”

“shuttup.”

“draco these are the shittiest pancakes you’ve ever made.”

“your face is the shittiest pancake i’ve ever seen,” he fired back.

“lame comeback- 2/10.”

“your face is a 2/10, y/n.”

“shuttup, malfoy.”

“you shuttup, y/l/n.”

“no you,” you said.

he clenched his hair with his fists, “i can never win with you! your banter limit is just- you don’t even have a limit! my gods you’re so annoying!”

“no you,” you smirked, “oh come on you walked right into that one!”

he groaned, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” you smiled, “alright let’s go finish the movie.”

“nah i’m gonna go home now,” he said, looking at the time on his phone.

you felt your face fall, “why?”

“y/n it’s five in the morning and i have to be up early, plus you have to pack for your-”

“no shuttup. we said we wouldn’t talk about my flight. i don’t want to think about leaving when i still have time.”

he sighed, “you have like, seventy hours before that fucking flight.”

your heart was racing now, “no just stop. you promised you wouldn’t bring it up, draco!”

“y/n why’re you so panicky about leaving? it's a new start- it’s good!”

“no it’s not, draco!”

“why?”

“because i like you and i don’t want to be five thousand fucking kilometers away from you on the other fucking side of the country,” you half yelled-half whispered, still trying to keep it down so as to not wake your parents.

his hands which were previously gesticulating wildly fell limply to his sides, “what?”

“please don’t make me say it again, it was hard enough the first time,” you blurted as you nervously wrung your hands together, “i know you don’t like me- like you said you don’t like anyone last night at millie's place but i just-”

“i like you too.”

"what?"

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #slytherin #draco x gryffindor!reader #draco x muggle!reader #muggle au #gryffindor #ravenclaw #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #hufflepuff

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funkyfreshramblings · 3 years

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A Story Twenty Years in the Making

CW: Swearing, sex, transphobia (Look, I'm not proud of who I was).

Shortly after I was born, a cousin of mine was as well. My mother took me to a store where she looked to buy a dress for her new niece to celebrate her birth. A woman stopped and looked at my mother, baby Devon in the stroller, dress in her hand, and curiously spoke up.

"Excuse me miss, but you know that you have a boy, right?" The woman shopping, presumably for her own daughter, had said to my mother.

"Of course I know I have a son. What about it?" My mother said in response.

"Well, that's a dress you're holding. Why would you be buying that for your son?" The woman puzzled.

My mother, quick as a whip and smarter than most people I know today, responded without a second thought.

"I'm letting him experiment with his sexuality."

---

At twelve (12) years old, I became aware of this really weird website. You see, everyone was talking about it, a schoolyard rumour we didn't dare to talk about in front of the teachers. The mythical status of this website was nothing to scoff at, students would huddle around and talk about their findings. It was like an ARG, a new puzzle added every day. The school was rife with these conversations, and everyone was hooked.

I'm of course talking about Pornhub.

Obligatory "don't go on Pornhub unless you're the legal viewing age in your country" aside (even though I'm aware those warnings stop nobody), I too became a curious mind. One day, when my parents had slipped out of the house and I was alone, I pulled it up on my computer upstairs. What I say fascinated me, women and men having sex.

Sex. Woah. Penises, vaginas, anuses. There was everything on this website. Everything. Including this one tab which I didn't dare click.

This one category had what appears to be two men on it. I assumed it was two men, after all neither of them had pronounced breasts like all the women had. And the title of the category? Gay. 'What the fuck does that mean?' twelve-year-old (12) me thought. I ignored it, thought it was weird, and continued on.

In the back of my mind, I was curious. A few weeks after watching straight porn and being mostly repulsed by how awful the women screamed in those videos, I tried it. I clicked on the category tab and was immediately hit with my first exposure to the gay community.

'Twink? Bear? Fisting? Now that's nasty.' I was curiously disgusted but clicked on anyways. "Twinks" looked cute, so I clicked there. Wait, cute? Did I really think these guys were cute? Like I thought my girlfriend was cute?

The video was, simply put, less aggressive than straight porn. Holy shit was straight porn aggressive. It terrified me how much those women screamed like the men were killing them by inserting their penises too far into their bodies. But gay porn looked softer. It was sweeter, with more love. After all, sex is about love, right? Forgive my younger self, you see. He clearly did not understand that nothing in porn is about love. But hey, when working with a half deck, you have to make the cards work.

So I watched gay porn over straight porn. That doesn't mean I'm gay! But wait, if gay porn is between two men, what is porn between a woman and a man. What's porn between two women? Never mind, I'm not that curious about two women together.

A quick Google search sent me down the most soul-searching adventure I'd ever partake in. At least, up until this point.

I soon learned what gay meant, what straight meant, what lesbian meant. You mean boys liking other boys was normal? Girls can like other girls? Wait, you can like boys and girls?

Oh, wait, you can also not be sexually attracted to anyone.

Asexual was a term I first read those years ago, and I soon thought that it described me. See, up until this point, women never interested me sexually. I was twelve (12). Sex really never crossed my mind, even when it was supposed to. But I was watching porn, I thought!

Doesn't matter. I didn't want to be part of those acts. That's what made me ace, I thought.

My lord was I wrong. (Not about ace people, but about my identity. This is where things get juicy. And chuddy.)

---

Okay, so cut to two years later. I'm fourteen (14), in grade ten (10) during Art class. One of my friends sat beside me, my ex across from me, and I hated Art class. Why'd I taken this god-awful course again? Regardless, as I sat there and thought, I thought about my bullying up until high school.

I filled out as a kid. I mean that literally, I grew tall and wide really quickly. No one fucked with me when I was in high school. No one wanted to, and I faded to the background.

But in elementary school, I was the new kid. Backing up to 2009, eight-year-old (8) Devon moved. I would celebrate my ninth (9th) birthday in a class where no one knew me or no one cared. Well, that's not true. One kid cared. Bless that kid. Regardless, 9-year-old (9) me had a target on his back. A big one, and it quickly meant I was being bullied.

My mother is terrifying. I use bold there because I don't think italics can describe just how terrifying mama-bear is when she's angry. After finding out that I was being bullied, she pulled into the school and chewed out the principal. And the parents. And the kids. Hell hath no fury like a mother who went through the shit mine did. So quickly the bullying died down.

Stopped? No, but quieted. My new friends surrounded me in a wonderful bubble of love, but that didn't mean they also didn't pick on me. The most common insult? Gay.

Gay? Like, porn gay? No no no, I said. I'm not gay.

Cut back to 14-year-old (14) me, thinking throughout Art class. I swear Ms. Taylor had it out for me. Oh, right, gay.

'Holy shit.' I thought.

'Wait. They're right, I'm gay. I like men. Holy shit I really like men. Men are hot, and I want to be with one so bad. But I live in this crap town of conservatives (my parents taught me right, conservatives are some of the shittiest people on the planet after all).'

Okay, so I'm gay. I figured that out at the very least! Now I have to tell people.

Oh. Fuck. I have to tell people.

Coming out. Hell, as I like to call it. First to my friends. My friends would understand, after all, I had a pansexual friend. What the fuck does pansexual mean? Never mind that Devon, focus on your own damn self for a second.

Oh. My. God. I have to tell people.

I pulled up my big boy pants and blurted out in the middle of class...

Nothing. What did you expect?

I waited 'till the next morning. That made sense.

---

"Hi, Sierrah!" I said to my colourful friend. Her hair was always a different colour every month and still is. I wish I had half the hair strength she must have.

"Hey, Devon!" She said, blue backpack on her back, meeting up with me to walk to school in the morning.

"I have something to tell you. I'm gay." She looked at me and squealed before wrapping me in a big hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" Okay, one down. A lot more to go.

My best friend in high school used to be someone who I absolutely despised. We bonded over our shared dislike of our shared ex. We became really close. Telling him was pretty easy. Okay, two down.

Remember that girl I sat beside during Art? Not my ex, the one I bonded with my best friend over disliking, I meant the girl sitting beside me. Well, let me tell you.

No one can give me a reception nearly half as good as what she did when I told her.

"Sara, I'm gay," I said. Less than five (5) seconds later, my face was buried in the tits of Sara. That was... fun. Not sexual in the slightest, it was fun. She was warm, and she loved me. I could tell that as a friend, Sara would become the most important person in my life. Thank you, Sara. Should you ever read this.

I hope someone reads this.

Anyone?

Moving on, I eventually told all my friends that day. None of them gave a shit! Cool!

My parents.

Oh no. My parents were next.

I'm skipping that part, it's no longer relevant.

Sorry. (Not sorry in the slightest.)

---

So I graduated the gay kid of 2018. Yay! Seventeen-year-old (17) me made it to grad!

But before I did, I need to preface this part of the story. I was, unfortunately, a fan of Soygon of Asskad. And Blairina Weiss.

Shame. Shame. Shame. Not a day goes by where I'm not sorry for my actions during this period of my life. I am so profusely sorry for the racism and transphobia I perpetuated during this period of my life. I was even homophobic. God damn it, Devon, what the fuck are you doing?

I am now a proud socialist. University helped. So did Vaush, and BadBunny (who's chat might be reading this. Henlo Nicole! Henlo chat!).

Scream at me about Vaush later.

Okay, where was I? Right, grad. University applications.

I made it into the University of Toronto Mississauga. Canada's best university. One of the best universities in the world. Holy shit, I should be more proud of myself for that. I am proud. I made it there, and as I write this, I'm on my last year.

Here's to me becoming a med student soon, I hope!

So school happened. I went to school as a shy gay kid with undiagnosed anxiety problems. That wouldn't last, and soon my anxiety was written in the prescriptions I was handed over the counter for Lexapro. This is where I met my first friend from university.

He will remain unnamed for legal reasons.

He introduced me to one of the most beautiful men I've met to this date.

S. (Name redacted for reasons you need not know. Not legal reasons. Personal ones. Please respect this decision.)

Woah, was this guy just... hot. He was an athlete, no way he'd like me. He probably also sleeps around, and I don't want that.

Boy was I wrong. I soon found out that S was very much into me. I was someone's crush. Wow!

That eventually turned into a... relationship. You get the gist. Affirmation.

I was very, very gay. S helped me understand that I was very very gay.

Okay, so eighteen-year-old (18) Devon was gay. That was very clear.

So that's the end of the story, right?

No.

We just crossed the halfway point.

---

Cut to twenty (20). I am gay, an active chatter in BadBunny's (Twitch streamer, not singer) discord, and really really confused.

See, progressive streamers like BadBunny typically have features to add yourself to a role on Discord that would tell everyone your pronouns when they clicked on your profile. This is a really good way to affirm pronouns of everyone, so I'm down.

Well, I do have one problem. Any/all isn't listed here. Wait.

Wait...

Any? All?

Why do I feel like this?

I'm cis. Let me make that clear. I am cisgendered. I identify as a man, I was born a man, and I think I will always be a man. I think.

But I know pronouns don't necessarily tell you someone's gender. They is a really popular pronoun for all sorts of non-binary identities, all of which are different from each other. So pronouns do not equal gender.

Can I really use they/them, she/her, he/him, fae/faer, fawn/fawn, etc/etc. all while being cis? I think so, let's try it! I don't know how to describe my gender, all I know is I'm apathetic to my pronouns.

Cut to a TikTok video. I learned my fucking gender identity from a TikTok video. This is why representation is important.

"Gender Apathy" we're the words coming from this person's mouth. She? He? Them? Didn't matter, they didn't care. I didn't care.

We didn't care.

Holy fuck.

---

Google has been a really important resource for me as an academic student. Wikipedia articles affirm my suspicions before I move onto Google Scholar to look up articles.

I'm fucking kidding.

Fuck Google Scholar.

But Google did introduce me to the world of fandom wikis.

Is gender wiki a thing? LGBTQ+ wiki?

As it turns out, it is.

Gender Apathy is an article there, as well as many many other identities. If you're question, do some keyword searches. You'll never know what you find.

Anyways, Gender Apathy. Cisapathetic, which I kind of interpret as someone who identifies as cisgender but doesn't really care? I guess? This is all still confusing, but whatever. Cisapathetic.

I quickly shared this with all my friends. I found something new out!

But we aren't done yet.

---

Cut to a little while later. It's Pride month, 2021. This month, if you happen to read this as soon as it goes up! Someone on TikTok is making Pride moths.

Fucking TikTok.

Moths were, at one point, a really popular meme online. Lämp. Gen Z humour will be the end of us all.

So naturally, people found a love for moths. Great, that's lead us to this point. I notice during these videos that these moths are pretty. I want one, or rather, two.

I want the modern Pride moth. The trans flag and a black and brown stripe were included on this modern Pride flag to signal that BIPOC are central to Pride, and need to be celebrated and that our trans friends need our help. Need our platform. Need our rights too.

And I wanted the Gender Apathetic moth. After all, it was something new I discovered! Well, I noticed something in the comments while I was requesting a Gender Apathetic moth from this creator (they were open to suggestions, so please don't heckle me about it). One commenter said the words "are you doing a Neptunic/Uranic/Saturnic moth as well?" What the hell are those?

To the LGBTA wiki!

Neptunic is described as a sexuality "attracted to women, feminine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."

Saturnic is described as a sexuality "attracted to androgynous aligned non-binary people."

Uranic is the one I'm really curious about then. I'm attracted to men, after all. Uranic is described as a sexuality "attracted to men, masculine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."

Woah.

So let me back up a little bit.

When I had access to Twitter (they suspended me for defending my sexuality from someone who was saying gay men all have AIDS, so thanks Twitter) I once made a thread talking about how I didn't feel comfortable with calling myself gay.

"But Devon," I hear you say, "the whole first half of this story was dedicated to you realizing you were gay! How can you say that after wasting so much of our fucken' time?"

Give me a minute, dear reader. Let me explain what I said in this thread.

As I type this out, I recognize the transphobia I had against trans-men even while typing out that thread. I want to say, right here, right now, that my sexuality is trans-inclusive. Men with vaginas are still men. I am still very much attracted to men with vaginas. But this thread still falls on transphobic remarks. Once again, I profusely apologize for my past. I am currently working towards being a better person to my trans friends, both online and offline. I am doing my best to be better. I love you all, and I thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this.

Oh, and U of T, if you're reading this, before you even think about kicking me out for admitting my previous bigotry, I urge you to think about your staff first. Jordan Peterson still has a job and makes the campus trans-exclusive as he continues to teach. Catch yourself before you come for me, a student doing his best to be better.

Okay, so back to the Twitter thread.

I essentially said something along the lines of this:

I really struggle with calling myself gay when in reality, I'm only attracted to people with penises, and who lack vaginas and breasts. I would have sex with non-binary people who have penises. So am I really just "gay?"

But in a lot more words. Before I continue, I want to take the time to explain how this comment is transphobic, and why I am sorry and why I want to explain that I no longer feel this way. Okay? So, here's the short of it:

I go by the term gay, but by saying I'm explicitly only attracted to people with penises while liking men, I was indirectly making the point that trans-men are not men if they too do not have penises.

This is not true. Trans men are men, and I have come to realize my attraction for trans men as well, despite genitalia. My sexuality encompasses men of all kinds, and non-binary people who are masculine aligned or neutrally aligned. Once again, I can only apologize and do better.

I am sorry for my previous transphobia. I hope I can make it better by acknowledging it and doing my best to avoid these implications ever again.

Okay, now that we have all of that out of the way, let's talk Uranic again.

Uranic really does describe me. I feel it in every bone of my body, that I really do find myself sexually attracted to even non-binary people.

So, gay is out, uranic is in.

Where does that leave me today?

---

When I started this post, I explained how I was a cisgendered gay man who was a liberal who almost fell down the alt-right pipeline. But as I type this post, not only has my identity evolved, but so has my political ideology. I am a cisapathetic, uranic man who still uses the term gay in casual conversation because it's easier even though it doesn't really describe me, socialist.

BadBunny/Nicole, chat, if you're reading this, thank you. You helped me a ton in discovering socialism and to reject ideas of capitalism that only serve to continue the systematic racism against black people, the systematic transphobia that kills trans people, and even the systematic homophobia I face as a "gay" man.

Wow, that was long. Really long. If you made it this far, give yourself a pat on the back. You just read the life history of a twenty-year-old (20) and how he came to understand his identity.

I love you all.

Signed,

Devon.

FunkyFreshHomo on Discord.

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kattipatang · 5 years

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Idk what I’m doing lol... but life’s a mess

Back in the day I wrote out my entire life story and it gave me a lot of clarity and resolve. Nearly a decade later, I am going to do the same in hopes that I find some self-healing. Perhaps I can also validate my feelings so I don’t feel like I am entirely crazy for feeling the way I feel. FYI for those who know me, please note that (to my knowledge) I have removed my pictures and mentions of my name from this blog and do not wish to be identified at this moment. I would appreciate it if you could respect that.

I’m going to start all the way back in 2010. I came out as gay while I was in high school. I was met with a wave of support and love from students and faculty, except for a select few homophobes. However, if I thought they were bad, things were about to get much worse.

In early July 2010, I was awakened by my mother at 3am in the morning. This was very unusual, and the look on her face was one of pain and grief. She led me into a secluded room of the house where my uncle (her brother) sat waiting, my phone placed on the counter in front of him. My mom and father and gotten divorced after an abusive marriage, and we had moved in with my uncle and his family when I was 11 years old. Therefore, my uncle was a father figure for me.

I was made to sit down in between them, and the interrogation began. They had gone through my phone and found texts I sent to my friends, talking about my sexuality, and they claimed that they had also found out through the grapevine. I was yelled at by my uncle. He asked perverse and inappropriate questions about my sexuality, with dramatic monologues about how I am bringing shame to our immaculate family name that would put some of Bollywood’s most melodramatic moments to shame. All this occurred while my mother sat and silently weeped. Two hours of emotional and verbal abuse later I was sent back to bed.

The next morning, my uncle took my mom and disappeared for hours. Turns out they had gone to the doctor to discuss my situation, and a wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God,” I thought, “at least this person will see reason.”

I was wrong.

My uncle and mother came back hours later and took me with them to the car. My uncle leading, me behind him, and my mother closing in on me behind me. This would be the formation that would take place if we ever stepped out from here on out. For the next week, I had no cell phone, no access to the landline, no computer, no internet, all my friends were gone away for the summer - I was completely isolated.

Anyway, they drove me to the doctor’s office in the late afternoon, which I found odd because the office would have been closed by now. Sure enough, when we arrived at the clinic, there was a “Closed” sign on the door. However, my uncle opened it and lead me inside, with my mother following after me.

I was taken straight through the empty clinic - even the receptionist had gone home, so there was no record of my visit - and I was led into the doctor’s office, where he sat waiting for me. I walked in alone and the door was shut behind me.

What followed was a series of pseudo-scientific explanations as to how I’m mentally ill, disturbed and perverted. “This is a sickness,” he said. “God didn’t intend you to be this way.”

He added that this was probably because I don’t maintain a relationship with my father and was raised by a single mother, and I just need to “learn to be a man.” “And if you like anal sex, you know you can do that with a woman too you know?”

I was dejected. Destraught. Absolutely destroyed on the inside. A person I thought to be a voice of reason, was spewing the same judgemental ignorant rhetoric my uncle was. The irony makes me laugh though nine years later, because this year his wife discovered that he had been sleeping with a patient for the past several years. What a morally strong man…

The rest of the week is a bit of a blur. I disassociated myself for most of it. However the gist of it was my uncle interrogated me to see who I had sex with, my mother became suicidal, and my uncle became homicidal.

At one point he made explicit threats to my life, and I had to do an internal inventory. I can’t afford to run away and live on my own, I don’t want my mom to die, and I don’t want to get killed. So, I bit the bullet and basically faked a “recovery” to keep the peace. I had had enough of the emotional and mental abuse and manipulation from my uncle and just wanted some reprise.

I have a cousin I am extremely close with who I am out to. He lives out of province, and he was and is the biggest ally I have in my life. When he found out what was happening to me, he called my uncle. My uncle said something that concerned him, so he told me to fly out and stay with him for the duration of the summer until it was time for me to go back to school.

I did so and it was an amazing time. However, during that trip I also learned of how twisted my uncle’s brain truly was. He had told my cousin multiple ways in which he wanted to “deal with the mess” including murder, forced re-allocation and isolation, and he even wanted to hire a female sex worker to come rape me.

That stunned me, and I have never had a proper relationship with my uncle since.

Years went by, and it appeared as though the situation had been swept under the rug. My plan was to save up enough to one day pack my bags and leave, never to look back again. My mother and uncle were super close and he could have easily taken care of her in my absence.

That plan, however, was put on halt when the elders in the family decided that my mother should finally have a house of her own, a dream she had always had but never experienced. However, that would not be possible if I didn’t step up and help pay a portion of the mortgage. In actuality, I was given no choice either, so I put a stone on my heart and sacrificed my personal freedom so I could give my mother the comfort she deserves.

During the construction of the house though, everything went to shit. One day at the job site, a construction worker made fun of my more gentle mannerisms and began to make homophobic jokes. My uncle overheard and that was just the fodder he needed to begin making my life a living hell all over again.

From early 2016 until today, my uncle has been emotionally and mentally abusing me and anyone who will stick up for me. My mother would defend me, and he began to emotionally and mentally abuse her too.

I am stuck in the shittiest circumstance. My uncle and mother are waiting with bated breath to see what I do next.

My mother wants me to get married to a woman, something I will never do. My uncle WANTS me to flat out come out so he can further torture me verbally and/or physically, and make a spectacle out of my mother for having the audacity to speak up against his abusive tendencies.

And I honestly don’t know what the fuck I should do. On one hand, I refuse to marry a woman to please society. On the other hand, when I come out, my mother will want to have nothing to do with me, and with me gone, my uncle (and my aunt has joined the squad now) will have free reign to torture and harrass my mother. On top of that my mom won’t be able to make payments for the house, the house will be foreclosed, and my mom and sister will be forced to live on the streets, or move back in with my abusive uncle.

Just this past week while I was out of the house, my uncle came over to taunt my mother, because he knows he's emotionally vulnerable and won’t stick up for herself. He came over and told her that she’s basically unwanted and uncared for. That the people around her are going to treat her like a laughing stock. That no one is society will talk to her or say anything good about her because her son is a fag who will ruin the family izzat.

Izzat is something he is HELLBENT about. Back in the day when my mom was about to start college, he cornered her before she was about to leave the house and said “No one knows you for who you are, they know you as my sister. So if you fuck around with any guys whatsoever, I’m going to slit your throat and kill myself.” *slow clap for the amazing pep talk*

I am fucking exhausted. For the past nine years I have been surviving, not living. I go day in day out afraid for my life, afraid for what the future holds for my mother and sister. I’m afraid that something may happen to me, and no one will know and he will continue to live his life showing himself to be this perfect human who can never do any wrong.

However, I refuse to let that happen. Even if it’s the last thing I do, one day I am going to expose him and his truth to the world. He taunted my mother saying no one will care for her? Everyone is going to remember my mother for the beautiful soul that she is. It’s HIM that is going to be shunned by society for being the manipulative abusive psychopath that he is.

Everything is going to be made public one day. Crystal clear. Bright as day. I will make an example out of him, that if you around manipulating and abusing people for your little-man-syndrome/false pride, this is how you will be publicly disgraced and humiliated.

Until then, I need to go seek therapy, heal myself, and get ready to fight for not just my life, but for the sake of my mother and my sister. I had finally gotten to a point where I was actually excited to wake up in the morning. But now I’m back in that mental hole where when as soon as I wake up a wave of dread sweeps over me and I wish I hadn’t woken up. I would be lying if I said I have a will to live. However, I also refuse to do anything that would put my mother at risk for more abuse.

The thing that frustrates me the most is that while all this happened, NOTHING changed in my life. My struggle remained the same. As people zoom by me in life, getting amazing opportunities, running businesses, finding amazing life partners, just living their best life, I’m standing here like my legs are stuck in a block of cement. Feeling like I’m broken, lost, unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, and a failure.

Until I can do something, I could really use all the prayers I could get.

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creativedogtrainingonline · 7 years

Text

My Worst Valentine’s Day. Ever. II

Lay # 2 would be Ashley (the blonde but dull hottie) and I ‘d need to wine and dine her at her favorite elegant restaurant (as typical). Late into dinner, I would look at an “immediate e-mail” on my “Crackberry” and say sorry about having an unanticipated teleconference with a Hong-Kong-based client in 90 minutes, which would require me to go back to the workplace after supper. By then, she would have had sufficient alcohol and romantic V-Day talk for her to go along with my “fallback” for consummating Cupid Day together: I ‘d take her into the restaurant’s perfectly personal and fancy unisex restroom and fuck her between supper and dessert. With adequate wine and appeal, by that point I ‘d most likely have a 60-70% opportunity of scoring Lay # 2. She would definitely be the hardest part of my International Love Day, but I enjoyed the challenge.Lay # 3 was going

to be ghetto-girl Cassandra. After fucking Ashley, who thought I was going back to the office (where I had actually already employed sick), I would take a taxi to East Harlem, get some flowers, wine, and chocolates near Cassandra’s place, and then knock on her door at around 10:30 or11 p.m. (I told her that I wasn’t sure when my Lay # 2 – I suggest my conference call at the office – would end).

Having sex with 3 different ladies, races, income classes, cultures, and worlds – all on Love Day – would be LEGENDARY. To make it even more of a historic Valentine’s Victory, I was getting anal from Lisa and Cassandra (whom I had actually trained and charmed into giving it on a routine basis) and a minimum of doggie from Ashley (who was lastly occurring to my favorite position). If I might do all that on February 14th, it would be a personal finest for me. Something to show my crew for the glory and the laughs, or to cheer up the next friend of mine to get disposed or cheated on.So that was the V-Day dream. Now here’s the problem that ensued. Lay # 1 goes according to strategy and I even get Lisa to talk unclean to me in Cantonese during anal, which was a first for me, and a bit odd – maybe due to the fact that I usually speak Cantonese only with my loved ones. Refraining from doing that again. Anyway, Lay # 1 was an otherwise amazing start to what guaranteed to be my finest Valentine’s ever.But Lay # 2

is where it became my worst Valentine’s ever. I shower from Lay # 1, placed on my Armani fit, and take a taxi from my apartment or condo to the elegant dining establishment to fulfill Lay # 2.

Whatever is going as planned till I see that Ashley has actually hardly touched her wine glass or food after buying the priciest bottle and numerous of the most pricey meals on the menu. As I’m doing the math and understanding that I’m probably going to be stuck to a $ 400 tab for this supper date, I’m aiming to play it cool and find out how when to recommend we go to the bathroom. And just as I will lay on the Yi-Wang-Smooth, I see Lay # 1 and Lay # 3 program up to our table and take the 2 empty seats nearby.Yes, you read that correctly: Lisa and Cassandra have shown up to my dinner date with Ashley. There’s actually no other way to sum up exactly what took place next other than to give you the discussion.” Wh-what are you two doing here

?”I stammered in confused shock.”We sistah’s was havin’a lil

‘fantasy goin’ on. And we was talkin’ about our ideal Valentine’s, thinkin’we had actually all like to get a piece of you on V-Day,” Cassandra said, with vicious swagger.

“Bu-But how do you … How do you even understand each other?” I was really perplexed by this most unfortunate coincidence.

“Now, Narc, I know you is the lawyer here. However we goin’ do the deposition this time. Then you can ask yo’ dumbass questions.”

“Yes,” Lisa chimed in. “We’re asking the concerns first. What does the word ‘anal’ suggest to you?”

This was getting uglier by the minute, I thought. There truly was no simple escape, because we were sitting far from the exit and the waiters knew me from prior supper dates with Ashley and I hadn’t paid the tab yet. Why the hell was Lisa asking exactly what the word “anal” means to me?

“Um, well, I’m a quite anal person – I guess that’s why I work as a legal representative. You know, you have to be really anal to chase after commas throughout the day in various drafts of a business spin-off agreement.”

Lisa continued: “To me, anal suggests a certain degree of intimacy and exclusivity. How about you, Cassandra?”

“Damn straight. Narc ought to understand about exclusivity. ‘Cuz I know a few of ‘dem agreements you writin’ be all about that shit.”

Ashley then joined the fray: “And exactly what does the word ‘dog’ imply to you?”

Like a driver who has lost control of his car, I was bracing for the impending crash. “Well, I have actually told you that I was never ever a huge fan of pets, however I did try to make an exception for your poodle.”

“Yes, and I was never ever a huge fan of doggie, however I made an exception for you too. Somehow you made me feel special – like you deserved it.”

Lisa continued however this time in a hot and suggestive voice that practically offered me a minute of hope: “After you left my place this afternoon, Cassandra provided me a call, and we began talking about how our fantasy for Valentine’s Day was to offer an entire brand-new significance to the words ‘anal’ and ‘doggie’ – you understand, simply to take these things to another level that none people has actually ever experienced.”

If it weren’t for that Cassandra must have never had Lisa’s contact number, that could have seemed like an invite to have a kinky foursome after this disastrous dinner I had to get away. I knew that I was heading into some kind of dreadful trap but I couldn’t resist the curiosity they had actually provoked in me. So I asked Lisa, “What do you mean, take anal and doggy to another level that none people has ever experienced?”

Lisa replied, “Well, this wasn’t so simple to establish. And – as in the sexual context – the anal part was actually a bit trickier than the doggie part, best Ashley?”

“Yeah, I need to get after Jennifer anyhow,” Ashley agreed, referring to her aggravatingly barky white poodle.

“What do you imply?” I asked in dread.Ashley pulled

her distribute of her bag, holding a plastic bag of Jennifer’s poo. “This is doggie!” she stated, hurling the bag of pet dog shit all over the upper body of my Armani fit.

“And this is anal,” Lisa included, tossing her own plastic bag of crap and striking the side of my face. “It’s a bit harder to obtain than doggie, as you understand,” she added.Cassandra added the coup de grace: “And here’s yo’ second anal, Narc. ‘Cuz I was thinkin’ two anals and a dog on Valentine’s would be the SHIT.” And her bag of shit landed smack in my face.After I took

a 20-minute-dung-removal bird bath in the dining establishment bathroom, paid the $ 400 supper bill, and went out as embarrassingly red as an Asian face can get, I get a text message from Cassandra. “4 a well-read lwyer u sure is a dumbass, plannin VDay on ur fone in my bthrm after u was gettin herbal.”

And after that the complete degree of my arrogant dumbassness struck me. I had scheduled UN Love Day with Lay # 1 and Lay # 2 a few days previously, while I was taking a dump in the restroom of Lay # 3. I did this with my personal cell phone, which – unlike my work Blackberry – had no password on it. I was a bit stoned and drowsy at the time, and forgot my phone in the restroom before Cassandra and I had one more round of sex. Then I was down for the count. However not the lady. And women go to the bathroom. And if your phone is sitting there in the restroom without you and a text message gets here, they will read it, in addition to all of the other text messages. Then you’re actually fucked.After reading

Cassandra’s text, the full level of her revenge-seeking, wicked genius dawned upon me. She deliberately planned to undermine whatever AFTER Lay # 1 (Lisa, in Newark) so that I ‘d believe absolutely nothing and believe V-Day was going as smoothly as planned. Cassandra shrewdly waited up until after Lay # 1 happened prior to telling Lisa what she had actually discovered on my phone. Then the 2 of them plainly conspired with Ashley over all the details of their shitty revenge.The next night, my buddy Sammy (aka “Heeb” )dropped in my office to tell me everything about his best Valentine’s Day ever. After he closed the door, he detailed how he had actually transformed a shit sandwich into an epic rating that left him absolutely victorious. When I then told him about my actual shit sandwich, he was up to the floor laughing in uncontrolled hysteria. So for about 15 minutes, I had this brief, chubby, baldness guy on the carpet of my office shaking in violent laughter and desperately gasping for air. Then he was gloating about the whole thing for weeks after that.Whatever.

I had to let him savor the one time that he trounced me in a sex smackdown – on V-day no less. Approved, I did get some anal however I experienced it as no male ever should. The entire thing made me consistently accept monogamy. For about a week.Needless to state

, that was the shittiest Valentine’s Day of my life. Actually.

Zack Love finished from Harvard College, where he attempted to produce a bachelor’s degree in Females. With the bachelor portion of that degree in hand, he settled in New York City however – to afford leasing his bed-sized studio – found himself flirting primarily with a computer system screen and stacks of documents. Figured out not to pass away a corporate drone, Zack decided to compromise sleep for screenwriting, an active social life, and Internet start-ups offering temporary billion-dollar fantasies.To feed his steady diet plan of NYC night life, he routinely crashed VIP celebrations in the early 2000s and two times bumped into his blossoming crush, a Hollywood starlet. But -much to Zack’s surprise-neither of those awkward conversations caused marriage with the A-list actress. Zack ultimately consoled himself by picturing fiascoes far worse than those involving his celebrity crush. While doing so, he dreamed up a motley gang of 5 men inspired by a few of his college pals and quirky work coworkers. And therefore was born Sex in the Title. But the novel is not autobiographical: Zack never had his 3rd leg attacked by any mammal (nor by any plant, for that matter). In fact, keeping his member safe has been among Zack’s lifelong goals -and one of the few that he’s managed to achieve. campaign

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