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st4rboyhere · 2 years

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hi :) i’ve another request, couple you do dom!reader x sub!eddie, the reader has had a shit day (idk, maybe jason was annoying him all day long or someone else was being homophobic, idk) and he goes over to eddie and takes his anger out on him by fucking him senseless, if you don’t wanna write that that’s obvs okay! i love ur acc sm <33

A/n: THANK YOU FOR ANOTHER REQUEST!

Writing brings me so much joy and I’m glad that it brings that to you too.

This is also my first a thousand+ word one shot and my first angst fic!

Tw: unconsented touch towards reader, f slur used but censored, mentions of homophobia, cheating, telling someone to commit and bullying. Anal licking, fingering and penetration, over stimulation, dry humping, dubcon, degradation.

Jealousy

You curled up in the bathroom stall, crying at how pathetic you felt. How could you let someone talk to you like that? It wasn’t like you didn’t know how to stand up against yourself. But you just seemed to freeze every time Jason put his hand on your shoulder and pulled you back, whispering those ridiculous words that made you want to punch him in his face.

You hated him.

It was gonna be different today though. You were going to fight back, you had promised yourself that, but this time he touched you. He put his hand in his inner thigh and told you you should kill yourself for liking this. That a f*ggot like you didn’t deserve to live. He pushed you on the floor and left soon after.

You felt disgusting.

All you wanted to do was be with Eddie right now. Cry into his arms and cuddle while he soothes you.

You needed to talk to him as soon as possible so you made sure to pass him a note for him to meet you at the gym during lunch when no one was around there. You were hoping he could skip the rest of the day with you. You watched as he read the note, looking at you, smiling and nodding his head.

The moment you entered the gym you accidentally tripped over someone, pushing you both to the ground.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you said, putting your arm out to help the person up.

It was Jason.

He took your hand with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Watch were you’re going next time f*g.”

He pushed past you and you felt tears form in your eyes. But that didn’t matter. The love of your life was going to be there for you and that’s all that matters. You sat down on the bleachers, waiting for Eddie.

Five minutes passed.

He’s probably on his way.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Maybe he’s getting lunch first and there’s a long line.

Thirty minutes passed.

He wasn’t coming.

There had to be a reasonable explanation for that though, maybe you wrote the time down wrong?

You still had a while before your next class so you went around the school looking for him.

There he was.

He was at his locker, talking to someone who you couldn’t really see.

“Oh Eddie your hilarious!”

Wait.. you knew that voice.

You moved a little more to see the girl who was talkings face over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Its just easy to make you smile Chris..”

Oh are you fucking kidding me?

Chrissy Cunningham?

He seriously ditched you to talk to her?

The very man’s girlfriend that’s making you feel like shit?

Not only that but she seemed to be being extremely friendly with him, her hands on his chest, and her face extremely close to his.

And Eddie, he was so pretty like always a little smile on his face and oh..his hand was on her cheek.

“Ah it seems we have to part ways, see you later, beautiful.”

Was he was flirting with her?

The bell rang and she gave him a kiss on his hand before turning to leave.

You walked away to your next class, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Today was fucking terrific.

> <

Eddie was the first thing you saw when you walked into your bedroom. He was sitting on your bed, trying to find something to watch. You gritted your teeth, thinking about earlier today.

“Why are you here,” you grumbled, putting your backpack down onto the floor.

His looked over at you and he smiled wide, jumping off the bed to squeeze you. “I wanted to spend sometime together!” He squealed.

“Oh cause you ditched me earlier?” You replied.

He smile turned sheepish, and he grabed your hand, squeezing tightly.

“I’m really sorry, there was just something I had to do.”

“Is something Chrissy?” You spat, making eye contact with him.

He looked at your face for a while, noticing how puffy your eyes were.

“Hey, is everything alright?” He asked, bring a hand up to caress your cheek which you slapped away before he could.

“I’m fine, just leave,” you mumbled, grabbing your towel and leaving the room to shower, slamming the door behind you.

Eddie looked hurt from your words but you didn’t really care, he hurt you worse.

> <

When you got out Eddie was still sitting on your bed, the tv of this time and his arms were between his thighs as he stared at the floor.

“God you just fucking leave?” You yelled.

“Not until you tell me what happened.” He protested.

“Like you fucking care,” you said, ignoring him.

He sighed and pushed you onto your back on your bed, quickly getting up to sit on your hips and pushing on your chest to keep you down.

“Look, whatever happened today..” he trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. And also I don’t know why you think so but I wasn’t fucking Chrissy- I would never cheat on you.”

He cupped your face, giving you a peck on your lips.

Despite his apology you were still upset that he ditched you in the first place. For the very persons that was making you feel so fucking horrible girlfriend.

“You still left me for her,” you growled.

With anger flooding your mind you grabbed Eddie’s waist and slammed him down on his back to get him off you.

Eddie was a touchy person and it only got even worse when he was sad or when you were upset with him.

Eddie let out a loud moan, throwing his head back against the bed. He quickly backtracked, his face turning red, nonsense coming out of his mouth as he tried to find any excuse to explain what just left his lips.

You looked at his crotch, the outline of his erection clear, precum dribbling through the fabric of his jeans.

“Here I am, upset at you for hurting me when I needed you and you’re getting turned on?”

You pressed your knee against his hard on, pushing up.

Eddie shrieked, trying to shut his legs but failing as your hands kept them apart. His pants ripped as you continued to spread his legs further, revealing his boxers. The tip was poking out, bright red and twitching.

“So pent up and I haven’t even done anything yet,” you teased, kissing along Eddie’s jaw, your leg grinding against his aching cock.

He moved his hips in time with your knee, his hands digging into your arms.

You two stayed like this for a while, enjoying how the other felt and kissing every once in a while. This was usually how sex went for you guys, you had never had a reason to be upset at Eddie cause he never did anything wrong.

It made you feel the slightest bit guilty that you weren’t gonna let him cum as easily as you always do.

When Eddie let out a practically loud moan and started bucking faster against you, lips meeting yours, you pushed him away, removing your knee from in between his legs.

He whines, which is shortly replaced with a moan as you flick his nipple with your thumb. You lowered your lips to attach onto his other, playing with it between your teeth, twisting it while Eddies hand found a way into your hair, pulling it. You gave the same treatment to his other one till they were both bright red and swollen.

Your fingers trailed down to his cock, hooking around the waist band and pushing it down just enough for his cock to pop out. You rubbed his cockhead for a while, dragging your finger up and down his slit feeling his tip twitch every time you stilled then.

Your own cock pulsed inside his confinements and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it inside your mouth anymore.

“What are you doing,” Eddie whined as you picked him up, placing him on your thighs.

“Quiet,” you grumbled, pushing his head down and sliding your fingers past his rim.

He moaned, grabbing onto your sheets as he prepared for you to prep him. You took them out immediately after.

“W-why did yo- OH FUCK-” He screamed again as you thrusted your cock inside of him, cum bursting out of his tip.

You slid out of him, slamming back inside.

“No- please it hurts,” he cried out, nails digging into your skin.

“Relax Eddie, lemme play with you for a while,” you said, licking the shell of his ear.

You gave him no time to adjust, setting a fast pace and making sure you hit his prostate with every thrust.

Eddie was between the thin line of pain and pleasure, your cock filling him completely and making him feel small under you.

“You know, I say you flirting with Chrissy in the hallway,” you said, snapping your hips against his.

“I-shit- no,” he whined, clapping his hand over his mouth to cover his moans.

You pulled his hand back, kissing the palm before grabbing the other one and placing them both above his head, putting your hand just above his ass to stabilize him.

“What do you mean no?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her- I-fuckk-I know she has a boyfriend,” he moaned out.

“You know you made me upset today Ed’s.”

“I-upset? Didn’t mean to I’m so sorry-fuck.”

“Watch your tongue Ed’s,” you growled, pushing your fingers into his mouth.

“I’m gonna play with your body all night Eds, and if I ever catch you being a fucking whore for Chrissy again I’ll fuck you in-front of her, hm?”

“Mmh!”

#smut #eddie smut #eddie x male reader #eddie angst #Eddie munson x male reader smut #eddie stranger things

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unpack-my-heart · 3 years

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This is the first thing I’ve written for the Shameless fandom, but I am utterly besotted with tomato-obsessed-vegetable-growing Ian Gallagher and so wrote this!

He was out there again. This time, he was wearing bright yellow rubber gloves that went right up to his elbows, and they were covered in soft-looking dirt. He’s got a streak of dirt on his face too, powdery, from where he’d presumably wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. His almost-too-orange hair shon brilliantly in the oppressive July sunshine, and Mickey watched as beads of sweat, almost imperceptible, slid down the side of his face.

It was the third time this week that Red has been out there, elbow-deep in mud, or tenderly caressing the lacey tufts of green shooting out of the ground. Sometimes, Red will tug on the tufts, and the soil will give birth to a misshapen carrot, much smaller than the type Mickey buys at the supermarket that come shrink-wrapped in rustly plastic, but Red doesn’t seem to care. He beamed at every fucking carrot as if he’d never seen one before, as if that carrot was the best, most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on in his entire life.

Mickey watched him as he sprayed something from an unmarked spray bottle onto tomato vines that twist and turn, vein-like, up a beaten-up old trellis. Plump, bulbous tomatoes hung from their stalks, and Mickey watched, feeling more and more voyeuristic, as Red plucked one from the vine and popped it into his mouth. Red chewed slowly, methodically, before smiling, all too wide and with tomato pulp mushed between his teeth. It should be disgusting, and yet, as Mickey watched the blissed-out smile reach Red’s eyes, papery skin crinkling, it’s not. Not anywhere close.

When Mickey moved into the apartment building, he’d barely noticed the garden. The apartment was cheap, suspiciously cheap, but Mickey couldn’t afford to be suspicious. So, when the greasy and smelt-like-onions letting agent had shoved the wad of paper under his nose, he’d signed on the dotted-fucking-line.

“It’s in an up-and-coming area, you know. You’re getting a real steal here, and it’s a ground floor property, no hauling heavy goods up the stairs,” the letting agent had said, tugging at the limp, flaccid tie around his neck.

Mickey had just rolled his eyes and shoved the papers back. “Save the fucking speech.”

It had taken him a pitiful two trips with Iggy’s busted up old pickup to schlep all of his worldly possessions from one side of Chicago to the other. A couple of soggy cardboard boxes filled with miscellaneous crap, a pair of practically broken but still just-about useable kitchen chairs, and a mattress with not a single functioning spring. When Iggy left, pickup grumbling down the street, Mickey had sent Mandy a picture of the chairs stood pathetically in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

She’d sent back a string of laughing emojis, at least when i come and visit i won’t be sitting on the fuckin’ floor

It took Mickey another three weeks to accumulate enough second-hand furniture to pass as a genuinely functioning adult, and by that point, he’d barely opened his blinds, never mind noticed the stretch of scrubland that barely passed for a communal garden that stretched out beyond the confines of his bedroom window. It was by accident that Mickey had happened to open the blinds just as Red was strutting past his window, wrestling with an enormous bag of soil. The soil slipped out of his arms and Red cursed, loud and long enough that it startled a grunt out of a bemused Mickey.

“Fuckin’ shit, fuckin’ slippery bastard, fuckin’ all over my fuckin’ boots! Jesus fuck.”

Hands twitching, Mickey watched as the orange-haired man, resigned to his muddy timberlands, kicked the rapidly emptying bag of soil, before grabbing it with both hands and tugging it along the floor, leaving it to rest in front of three large, raised vegetable beds. Red squatted down and ran his hands over the surface of the soil, head cocked inquisitively.

Mickey stared at the man, hand resting on the window pane, ready to pull it shut and get on with the rest of his day, but before he could, and without warning, Red looked up.

Red looked up, stared directly at Mickey’s swiftly reddening face, and waved.

Feeling like he’d been caught with his hands down his pants by his third-grade English teacher, Mickey slammed the window shut and pulled the blind across, a vital extra layer of protection from the outside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Mickey scolded himself, before purposefully striding out of the bedroom, and slamming the door behind him, resigned to not re-enter the room until he was quite sure that Red had gone.

The next day, after Mickey had dragged his aching bones back from the chop shop, engine oil and miscellaneous grease coating his hands, he’d floated into his bedroom on autopilot. He tugged the blind up, and shoved the window open, eyes blurry and half asleep. A wiggling figure in the distance caught his eye, and his stomach dropped.

Red was out there, forehead damp and glistening in the evening sun. Mercifully, his back was to Mickey, as he leant down, fussing with something buried deep in the pillowy looking earth that covered the surface of the first vegetable bed. Red’s ass wiggled this way and that, a unrhythmic dance to the chirpy evening birdsong, and Mickey let himself watch, eyes glued to the dirt-covered denim, only for a second, before he forcefully pulled the window shut again.

Only, the window groaned loudly, and, ridiculously, Red peered between his splayed legs, and waved at Mickey from his rather precarious upside-down position.

Mickey pulled the blind shut and stomped out of his bedroom, determined to forget about Red and his fucking pruning shears.

The plan, however brilliant in theory, failed miserably in practice, and resulted in Mickey finding himself, yet again, covertly watching Red chew his fucking tomatoes. If Mickey cared, or if he was the kind of guy that had some sort of gardening glove fetish, he would have realised that Red tended to the garden in the evening, when the sun dipped, bloated and heavy, below the treeline, and bathed the grass in dazzling, shimmering golden light. If Mickey cared, or if he was the kind of guy that jerked off furiously in the shower thinking about the way the muscles in Red’s arms rippled, taut, when he hauled bags of soil from one end of the garden to the other, he would have devised a way of opening his blind just so, just enough to see out of, but not enough that Red could see his peering, lurking face.

For a kid who had grown up in the underbelly of Chicago, whose first word was ‘fuck’, only to be followed by ‘you up’, Mickey had been remarkably quick to come to terms with the fact that he only liked fucking dudes. The first time he’d slept with a chick, the noisy, breathy, wetness of it all had kept his dick limp and his ego in tatters, and she’d thrown him out of her bedroom with a ‘fucking faggot’ for good measure. He’d slept with countless other women since then, a painful exercise in compulsory heterosexuality, and as he ploughed into them from behind, he’d screw his eyes shut and pretend the fleshy give of their hips was tight, coiled muscle, and pretend that their high-pitched blabbering were deep, guttural moans. It hurt, every time, when they’d slink off, hair mussed and lipstick smudged, and he’d be left splayed lifelessly on damp sheets that smelt like sex, but he managed. He had to manage. Until Terry Milkovich, silverback gorilla, had died in a wheezing, heaving mess on the kitchen floor, and Mickey was free.

He fucked his first guy on the night of the funeral, was fucked by his first guy three nights later, and never looked back. Mickey was pretty comfortable with what he liked and liking what he liked didn’t make him a bitch.

But this? Staring at some guy whispering sweet nothings to his peppers, hiding behind the blind every time he so much as glanced in Mickey’s general direction? This was horrifyingly close to pining, teetering on the edge of teenage puppy love infatuation type shit, and it set Mickey’s teeth on edge. Milkovich’s didn’t do crushes.

A knock on the window startled him, shattering his belligerent introspection and rattling his bones.

It was Red, who had somehow managed to creep his way across the scrubby lawn, up to Mickey’s window. Mickey blinked at him, dumbly.

Red started to speak, but Mickey couldn’t hear him.

“The windows closed; I can’t hear you!” Mickey shouted, dumbly.

Shit.

Red stepped out of the way, just in time, and Mickey shoved the window open.

“Uh, window was … y’know. What the fuck do you want?”

Red smiled.

“Do you want a tomato?”

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher x mickey milkovich #shameless us #tw: slurs #tw: the word f*ggot is mentioned #in passing though #this is just ridiculous but i had fun writing it!!

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msfilmdiary · 3 years

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The Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012)

Starring: Emma Watson, Logan Lerman, Ezra Miller, Mae Whitman, Nina Dobrev, Paul Rudd, Johnny Simmons, Kate Walsh, Dylan McDermott, Nicholas Braun, and Melanie Lynskey

Screenplay by Stephen Chbosky

Directed by Stephen Chbosky

Cinematography by Andrew Dunn

I do not own any of the photos posted.

SPOILERS AHEAD

First of all, I want to say that I love this book. I read it once about every couple of months, and I find something new in it every time I read it.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a coming-of-age film written and directed by Stephen Chbosky. The film is told, like the book, in a series of letters written by Charlie to an unknown recipient. These letters include his triumphs and tribulations of his freshman year of high school. The films depict his mental struggles and his journey with his friends, Sam and Patrick.

After meeting the well-rounded seniors Sam and Patrick at a football game, they invite him to a party. At said party, Charlie accidentally consumes a weed brownie and tells Sam that his best friend committed suicide. He also walks in on Patrick and the school’s quarterback Brad, kissing, to which Patrick tells Charlie that Brad is closed. Both Sam and Patrick then drive Charlie home and experience the infamous tunnel scene, which is possibly one of the most memorable scenes in the film.

As the film progresses, Charlie slowly develops feelings for Sam and tells her on multiple occasions. Sam, however, has a boyfriend in college named Craig. Charlie later confesses to Sam that he’d never been kissed, and Sam tells him that his first kiss should be with someone who loves him, and ultimately ends up kissing him.

Charlie later begins a relationship with Sam’s friend Mary Elizabeth after the Rocky Horror Picture Show, while still having obvious feelings for Sam. At a party, Charlie is dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room by Patrick, to which he ends up kissing Sam instead of Mary Elizabeth, upsetting them both. Patrick advises Charlie to distance himself from everyone for a little while, and he ends up in isolation and deep depression.

When Charlie returns to school, he notices that Brad shows up with bruises on his face after being caught having sex with Patrick by his father. He claims he was jumped, and begins to distance himself from Patrick, calling him a f*ggot. Patrick punches him, and Brad’s friends begin beating on him until Charlie intervenes and blacks out. After recovering, he finds that Brad’s friends are incapacitated, while his hands are bruised from fighting. Sam and Patrick express gratitude towards Charlie, seemingly forgiving him for past events. However, after blacking out, Charlie’s mental state begins to worsen and worsen.

TW: sexual assault

Patrick then kisses Charlie and immediately apologizes. Sam is accepted into Pennsylvania State University, and breaks up with her Craig after learning of his faithfulness. The night before she leaves for college, her and Charlie confide in each other, and he experiences flashbacks of his Aunt Helen, his aunt who died in a car crash when he was seven. After Sam leaves for college the next morning, Charlie’s mental state deteriorates, and his flashbacks become more and more apparent. He blames himself for his aunt’s death, and is later committed to a mental hospital where it is revealed that she sexually abused him.

The film ends with Sam, Patrick and Charlie revisiting the tunnel where Sam has revealed she has found the perfect tunnel song–“Heroes” by David Bowie. Sam kisses Charlie, and he stands up on the back of the truck, acknowledging that he feels alive with the statement “We are infinite.”

As someone who's both read The Perks of Being a Wallflower and seen the film, it’s difficult to separate the materials into their own entities, despite being the same story. The casting is near perfection, as I couldn’t imagine anyone besides Emma Watson playing Sam and Ezra Miller playing Patrick. They both deliver a stellar performance, as did Paul Rudd with Mr. Anderson, and Mae Whitman as Mary Elizabeth.

The film allows Emma Watson to shed her ten year Harry Potter skin, in a role that I don’t think could’ve been more perfect for her. It allows Ezra Miller some dimension when compared to his character in We Need To Talk About Kevin.

I want to talk about Sam and the “manic pixie dream girl” stereotype that is often placed on her, mostly because I don’t think she fits any of the characteristics. I recently wrote an essay about strong female characters being overtaken by this craize of the “manic pixie dream girl,” to which I discussed her character, and how I think that she is not solely there for Charlie’s gain and fixation (as many characters with manic pixie dream girl syndrome are.) I think her character separation from Charlie is more prevalent in the book, as I believe that her character on paper is more determined to be seen as separate from the people around her. She isn’t there solely to fix Charlie, or anyone around her for that matter. She has dreams and ambitions, and her own goals away from Charlie. She grows as a character, but not at Charlie’s, or any other male character's expense. She is her own person, or character, rather it be.

Let’s talk about the soundtrack, which I think truly brought The Perks of Being a Wallflower to life from paper to screen. From my perspective, many of those who watch the film now associate certain songs with certain scenes, like “Come on Eileen” with Sam and Patrick dancing, or “Heroes” with the tunnel scene. For one, I think that replacing Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” for David Bowie’s “Heroes'' made the tunnel scene absolutely magical, more than the book could ever do. I think the tunnel scene made the movie stand out, while the tunnel scene in the book was what I remember being as words on paper. I couldn’t see the scene in my head, whereas the film depicted a version that I believe to be more memorable than the film as a whole itself. Other notable mentions I would like to include would be the song “Could it Be Another Change?” and “Teen Age Riot,” which I think were perfect selections for the feel of the film.

I would categorize this film as a teenage classic (I know, big words) mostly because I think so many teenagers relate to it. It’s funny and charming, but also at times it allows the viewer to think and reflect about what’s happening around them. The film allows a break from reality, but not a complete severe that doesn’t allow one to stay grounded. I also, for another pointer, think the soundtrack is phenomenal.

That being said, do I think that the film is better than the book? No. A hundred times no. Do I detest the film? No. I don’t. I think it’s a extraordinary adaptation, and I think that it’s so extraordinary because it’s written and directed by Chbosky himself. He created real characters, both on paper and on screen, that allowed many of the viewers to see themselves in the film. He allowed the viewers to (forgive me) feel infinite. Which, in turn, is all anyone truly wants, to feel completely and utterly infinite.

Overall rating: 8/10

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girlofmanyfandoms · 4 years

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I’m so genuinely upset right now (transphobia tw and slight cursing tw [even though they’re blocked out] for the rant below the cut)

I was already under a lot of stress today, but I was fixing my hair in the bathroom, where my mother was doing her makeup. Sam Smith had a new song, and it was playing on the radio. My mother mentioned that she liked their music. Except she didn’t say them. She said he.

So I tried to subtly correct her by saying “My favorite song of theirs is No Peace.” She looked at me weirdly and told me that they’re not a band. I told that they use they/them pronouns. She got all pissy about it, the general gist of what she said was that she didn’t care, their pronouns were stupid, she’ll keep using he/him when referring to them. This made me upset, but I felt that if I tried anymore I’d get yelled at, and my emotions were already spiking, so I left, very upset.

Time skip to dinner, we’re eating, my back to the TV so I could face everyone. My mother brings up what happened earlier about Sam Smith, and I sigh, preparing for an argument. A few highlights of the terrible stuff they said because I don’t have the emotional energy to narrate:

“[Enbies] are changing the English language!”

“[Enbies] stole the words they and them!” *cue me mentioning neopronouns and just the fact that they’re so wrong*

“You’re expecting us to listen to your opinion when you won’t listen to ours.”

“You shouldn’t get upset about this.”

“You can’t expect me to change this, it was how I was brought up.”

“Look, back in my day, we used to call homosexuals f*ggots. I’ve tried to stop but it slips sometimes.”

*my father saying some really stupid stuff about a group of mostly African American kids playing basketball and using the n word but when the white kid used it people were offended and he (meaning my father) said it was a “double standard”*

“Well I don’t know Sam Smith personally, it doesn’t matter!”

“I’d use they and them if I were speaking to him in person.”

“You’re talking to me about this and I don’t understand. It’s like a brain surgeon talking to me about surgery and all that, I’m not gonna know what he’s talking about!”

*my brother mentioning his friend’s sibling who tattooed they/them on themselves while still misgendering them*

Also my brother said three times “I think she identifies as they/them.”

First of all, if I did, that was not the way to go about it (I’m looking at the word she in the sentence). Second of all, if I did, you had no right to out me. Third of all, there’s nothing wrong with that. Non-binary identities are identities, trans identities are identities. Respect them. Yes, I cried during that argument, because I can’t stand to see such transphobia and hate in my own family. Yes, I’ve questioned my gender and considered the possibilities of genderfluid, genderflux, and demigirl, but because of people like them, I was too scared to even try (so I obviously lied and told them no).

The first time he said this, I responded with “I don’t.” The second time, I said “I don’t okay?” The third time, I blew up and said “I don’t, shut up!” Looking back, this was not the best way to respond, and I apologize for that. After I told him to shut up, his jaw tensed, and he leaned forward, looking like he was going to yell or physically hurt me. He didn’t, and my father told him that he’d “f*ck him up” and to “sit the f*ck back.”

Later on, my father said “Don’t get upset about this,” because I was still crying, but managing to put out strong sentences. I told him that I had every right to be upset about this. He said alright, be upset then. The last bits of the conversation was a blur, I just know that I took my plate and headed to the kitchen. My father stopped me along the way to try and hug me, saying “We didn’t mean to make you upset.” I wanted to tell him that his statement didn’t mean jack squat to me, but I just murmured “I don’t want to interact with you guys right now.”

I almost vomited because of my emotion spike, so I headed upstairs. I hear yelling and cursing shortly after, and I had to get my notebook anyway, so I asked what happened. My father said “Nothing,” but I told him that I heard yelling and knew something happened. He said he was correcting the way my brother talked to me. Funny how that’s the thing he jumped to defend.

Hate is not an opinion, it’s a prejudice. It needs to end now.

To all my enbies and trans people out there, I love you guys, keep on existing and loving and doing what you love!

To my homophobic, transphobic, racist family: I hope you get what you deserve.

#Cade’s vents #transphobia tw #tw slight cursing #even tho they’re blocked out with asterisks #might update on this later but I’m tired yall #ill still be super active since tumblr is my only safe place #so yeah #racism tw #homophobia mention

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cultsykes-archive · 6 years

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before you follow

DO NOT follow me if:

- you are homophobic/transphobic/xenophobic/fatphobic/any of those bad -phobics - you are a TERF or SWERF - you are anti-feminism/anti-SJW - you’re racist/sexist/ableist/any of those bad -ists - you're a radical feminist - you support donald trump - you are a republican/right-aligned (sorry. no hard feelings, i respect your opinion [except for conservatives, in which case fuck your feelings, i don’t respect your opinion]) - you are a fujoshi/futa - you are a “MAP”/”NOMAP”/pedo blog/supporter - you’re a kink blog - you’re a ddlg/cgl/whatever other variant blog/supporter (non-sexual age regressors are a-okay tho) - you are a pro-ana/thinspo blog/supporter - you are a cringe culture blog/believe cringe culture still exists - you ship anything that involves pedophilia/incest (allison and luther shippers i’m looking at you) (if you fall under this criteria and you still follow, i will block you)

please ASK to follow me (message or off-anon ask) if:

- you are a legal adult (21+) - you are a cishet... -- ...boy (stop panicking, i just don’t want any Nice Guy™️ White Knights™️ following me. the only white knights welcome here are the awsten kind) -- ...who uses the q word (yes, even when referring to qu**r eye) - you frequently get involved in lgbt discourse (tucute vs truscum, inclusionist vs exclusionist, the q word, etc. doesn’t matter what side you’re on) - you use f*ggot to refer to yourself - you are primarily a k-pop blog. chances are i’m gonna say no but sometimes i allow rare exceptions.

(hey mutuals!! if ur reading this right now and you fall under this criteria, don��t fret!! i followed you back, ur all good dawg.)

things/people im really :/ about:

- melanie martinez - detroit: become human - pretty much every k-pop band and the stannies that follow them (more often than not they turn out to be fujoshis and i’m just really not okay with that!) - xxxtentation - john lennon - halsey - msi (this one is honestly just a personal thing; im v v uncomfortable with a lot of the stuff their lyrics talk about).

warnings/trigger tags:

- i have/will make some posts containing the following, all of which have specific trigger tags:

- guns ( #guns tw // ) - suicide ( #suicide tw / or #suicide mention / ) - drugs ( #drugs tw / or #drug mention / ) - needles ( #needles tw / ) - blood ( #blood tw / ) - death ( #death tw / ) - gore/body horror ( #gore tw / ) - rape mentions ( #rape tw / ) - knives (#knives tw /)

(this list may be incomplete, if there’s any i missed please send them to me)

- developing/ongoing/recent news stories, political events and whatnot with potentially upsetting topics are tagged as #current events

- any other post that may have potentially upsetting/triggering content that i dont know to tag is tagged with #ask to tag (but even if a post doesnt have that tag dont hestiate to still send me an ask to tell me to tag it!!) ((((that last sentence but each time i say ‘tag’ it gets faster))))

- things that i dont tag: alcohol

if you want to talk to me, please DO NOT come into my DMs or my ask box with any of the following:

- lgbt discourse. i’m neutral on all of it. i literally do not care and im not gonna talk about any of it. - political talk. we can get into that when we know each other better. dont come right out of the gate asking for my stance on prison reform or anything. - bandom discourse. please. no wild accusations about the members of my favorite bands from out of left field (as in “oh you know This Guy did x y and z right?? how do u support them??”). and please god stop reminding me about what sebastian did. it’s fucked up, yes, i don’t like sebastian, but i still love remi and emerson. pleaseeeeee stop trying to get me to not like palaye royale. - partially to add on to the last point, anything about how the bands i like “suck” by your standards. I Don’t Fucking Care. - personal questions about my transition. don’t ask what surgeries i plan on getting. don’t ask what’s in my pants. it all traces back to the great nunya dam. ...nunya dam business.

okie dokie, im done being a super stuck up rule-setting prick.

return to directory - keep scrolling to find my blog content!

on this blog you may find posts about/featuring:

(this is essentially my long list of fandoms)

bands/artists:

- My Chemical Romance - Frank Iero andthe Patience - Twenty One Pilots - Panic! At The Disco - Fall Out Boy - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me - Waterparks - Vinyl Theatre - All Time Low - The Young Veins - YUNGBLUD - Palaye Royale - Troye Sivan - Bring Me The Horizon - Falling In Reverse - Gorillaz - MGMT - Foster The People - blessthefall - You Me At Six - As It Is

youtubers:

- the Cancer Crew (Filthy Frank, iDubbbz, Maxmoefoe) - Pyrocynical - Cody Ko and Noel Miller - Kurtis Conner - Slazo

games:

- Splatoon - Night in the Woods - Overwatch - Doki Doki Literature Club - Skyrim

tv shows:

- Bojack Horseman - Rick and Morty - Aggretsuko - Stranger Things - Steven Universe - Big Brother (i was a Paul stan for 18 and 19, and a Level 6/Tyler stan for 20. just in case that concerns you, because it seems to concern most people in the bb tag here.) - The End Of The F***ing World - Queer Eye - Buzzfeed Unsolved - Brooklyn Nine-Nine (though i have a blog for that) - American Horror Story (specifically Apocalypse... and mostly just Michael) - Total Drama (though i have a blog for that too!!) - The Umbrella Academy (you guessed it... got a blog for that.)

movies/actors:

- John Mulaney - The Breakfast Club - Grease - Love, Simon - Marvel

other:

- bats - birds - anti-fascism - lyric posts - lgbt posts (specifically: trans/gay/mlm posts) - shitposts/memes - tarot cards

#DO NOT INTERACT #about me #for my blog

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time-2-vent · 4 years

Text

So. This is a master post about my grandma. Some of this has already been talked about here but I posted this on my private fb and wanted to keep it here too.

Okay.. so. This is gonna be a long and detailed one.

Ive never had a space where I could vent about my grandma to more than just people close to me without being blamed or her finding out. The only family I have on here is my mom and im hiding this post from her for various reasons. I understand if many of you can't read all the way through this because its gonna be a lot. I just want the people around me to have a better grasp on exactly why im so depressed.

Before I start im gonna add a trigger list because there is a LOT and im probably going to be very emotional typing this. A lot of it ive never spoken about publicly.

So for a list of TW:

Emotional, physical, sexual, and animal abuse, r*pe, p*dophelia, racism, su*cide, hospitals, ableism, be******ty mention, fatshaming, weight mention, f slur.

Okay. Im going to start at when I moved in with her. She tricked my mother into signing over custody of me when I was 10. When I was 9 years old I was forced into a mental hospital after being heavily overdosed on medications meant for adults to the point I was "sitting upside down in my chairs unresponsive and talking about tranquilizers" which i have no memory of. The hospital was probably the worst experience in my entire life and I was almost murdered by one of the older kids. After getting out of there I moved in with my grandma.

Throughout my life shes said and done so many horrible things to me. She would always yell and scream about the smallest mistakes. She used to pick me up by my hair. She was just fucking horrible to me.

Around the age of 10-11 when I started going through puberty she would always make fun of the way my genitals looked. She would ask me to stretch my labia out and move it around. Specifically she would ask me to "show me your bat wings". It was fucking disgusting but as a child I thought it was just haha funny joke.

For a while I thought I just imagined that until my mom brought it up to me and how she CAUGHT HER saying that to me multiple times. So I had confirmation that I wasn't just imagining it. I once confronted her about it and she immediately started crying (ive only seen her cry 3 times in my entire life) and told me if I ever said that again she would tell everyone in my family that I was a "prostitute" and would make everyone in my family hate me, and that it was my mother who did that to me.

My mom lived with me and my grandma for a few years but eventually moved out on her own because she couldn't handle my grandmas abuse.

My grandma dated my moms r*pist, which was my moms uncle, and told my mom she never got r*ped, and said my mom only fucked him for "attention and cigarettes". My mom was 12 at the time.

My grandma told me at 15 that the "only reason you think you're trans is because you got diddled as a kid"

My grandma called me a whore when I started becoming sexually active despite her having her first child at 16.

She once told me I was "just like my father" who is a sex offender and abused me as a child. I was also forced to give my at-the-time step brothers head when I was 3-5 and was taught that it was okay.

My grandma has called me every possible name in the book. Anytime she does something wrong its automatically my fault. She told me she would believe that im trans when I showed her my dick (at 16).

Shes incredibly rude and racist, says she hates how she can't understand Asian people. She's said the n word. She's made so many "jokes" about how "aggressive" Black people are. When my cousin found out he had Black in him she said, and I quote, "I always knew he had a n***r ass" which fucking disgusted me. Shes scoffed at my mother for limping. She scoffs at anyone disabled. Always says "you wouldn't catch me looking like that in public." She would tell my mom she was faking her pain. And coincidentally of all 4 of her kids, one was born with physical deformities. she says thats not the reason why, but she gave her up for adoption. She yells at anyone standing in her way who isn't aware. She is incredibly rude when she speaks to people to the point its embarrassing.

When I hung myself earlier this year and a friend came to pick me up she was yelling at me like "Oh so you went and tattled on me didnt you? Did you say oh boo hoo shes so abusiveeee!!" As I had literally just laid passed out in the snow from hanging myself.

When she found out I hung myself she bitched about how I had her snow boots and how she would have had to climb up the hill to find my fucking body as if it were a chore. She asked me if I wanted to be cremated out of nowhere and when I said no she replied "good I didn't want to have to pick your piercings out of your dead body" when I told her she made me want to kill myself she laughed at me and said "well then you'll never survive" my first suicide attempt was at 12 years old. A few weeks ago I started carving at my throat in front of her because im so desperate for her to LISTEN to me for 5 FUCKING SECONDS. I have legitimately cried on my knees and begged her to treat me like a person time and time again. She laughs at me and turns it around to my issues. She guilt trips me and makes me think everything is my fault. She calls me disgusting for having 1 or 2 shirts on the floor. She told me to MY FACE she will never see me as trans. Misgenders me, misgenders my friends. I jokingly told her one of my cis friends was trans, and when she left she asked me "does he really have a penis?" ABOUT A WHOLE ASS CIS WOMAN. She told me she ran over and killed a dog with a broken leg to "put it out of its misery" she would always use glue traps and I told her not to tell me about it so she waits until were in public and says "yknow whenever I catch a live mouse on one of the traps I throw it into a plastic bag and then go do the litter box to suffocate it". Shes threatened to make me pay the hospital bill when I called 911 because she was unconscious. She says horrible things to me EVERY FUCKIJG DAY. She's always making everying my fault all the time and sits and smiles while I'm sobbing and pouring my heart out because im tired of the abuse. Im so fucking tired. It goes on and on and on every day of my life. I literally slit my throat in front of her and she only stopped being mean for about a week. Im so depressed and mentally ill and this is beating on me every moment of my fucking life.

In not done but im shaking and need to stop typing for now

Edit: some other notable things, when my grandpa disowned me and stopped speaking to me for over a year she told me it was probably because of how disgusting I was. And "nobody wants to be around that".

She will ask me specific random questions about specific friends and if I dont know the answer or I forgot, she goes on a tangent about how terrible of a friend I am.

When I was cutting her hair she kept telling me I was doing it wrong, so I did it her way and she hated it and told me she's glad I didn't pursue hair because im terrible at it.

When my cat was dying she originally refused to take him to the vet because he was "just gonna die anyways so I might as well let him", then gave up her cat to the vet because she was peeing but didn't wanna take responsibility for that so she lied to them and said she showed up at her door and didn't tell them her age or even her name and that was so fucking cruel.

When she starts laughing at me sometimes she'll talk to me in a whiny "baby voice" and be like awwww, waaa im so abusedddd *mocks me crying*.

And she always talks in a tone that sounds pissed off and seems confused when I feel like I'm being scolded.

She gets in my face and puts her finger in my face and backs me into corners sometimes and then when I smack her hand out of my face she says she'll put me in jail for abuse.

Oh yea and simetimes when she gets mad at me she'll be like "ok GIRL" in the middle of me talking. Like its annoying and uncalled for.

I cant believe I forgot this holy shit. Years ago (was a minor here as well) I was attacked by my neighbors dog and it knocked me down and when I got home my grandma was accusing me of be******ty and said she was "watching it fuck me" and I was so fucking disgusted and hurt.. I try to block that from my memory because it was my third dog attack and I was traumatized.

She also regularly calls her brother a F@ggot. He is the only lgbt family member (he's gay) that i have.

She regularly fatshames people while only a few feet from them. And will whisper to me about how disgusting they look.

She asks for all of my friends deadnames and gets mad when I dont answer.

"I can't be abusive because I give you a home. I could have let social services take you."

"I cant be racist because my ex husband is Black"

"You must be living in a fantasy world where you make up shit that ive done."

"Id be depressed if I stayed in bed all day too."

"I need to learn to have lower expectations for you."

"I'm starting to resent you. So ill be taking 200$ a month for rent." (She has stopped this thankfully)(edit #2, she started taking it again im gonna be here forever lmao)

When I was underweight she would say things like "you look like an aids patient." And "Are you trying to look like your mother?"

"You're a hoarder"

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trans-advice · 6 years

Note

(Tw f-slur) Even before I came out as trans/pan, I always used the word f*ggot IN REGARDS TO MYSELF (never as a slur). I’ve reclaimed it as a way to describe myself, because I DO in fact feel like I relate to the stereotype of what that word means; flamboyant, loud, all around VERY GAY. Is it wrong for me to reclaim this word as a transmasc/nb person, even if I’ve only ever used it to describe myself?

TW: Frank & explicit discussion of slurs, no bleeping, bringing up histories of murder & systemic sexual abuse, f-slurs, b-i-slur

I understand. You’re saying you’re gender expression & personality are like non-conforming & shamed upon, so you’re like fine call me that I’m still doing me though, screw your slurs. When I was 5 I used to say since I’m not doing boyish stuff “cut off my penis!” Trust me I support you, since it’s like self-deprecation/dark humor & confrontational. Woo!

Okay so… “faggot” comes from a word history regarding a bundle of sticks & burning people alive… Oy. So that can be triggering to people.

Also back in the like late 1800s, the English school boy system used to be like older classmen were masters of the younger classmen who were like servants called “fags”. Discipline would be dealt with via the kids & not the adults. Point being, there was a lot of sexual abuse done within this system, so “fag” meant something very rapey like “bitch” does in a lot of contexts.

However, these word histories combined into that folk etymology about gay people being burned alive like witches but without the stick bundles/“faggots”… The point being, this still has power in the connotations because people can be invoking this.

So it’s like if you’re talking to other people, you have to take into account their schemas of words & connotations because that’s just called communication. It can also be hurtful to them, so unless you’re willing to comfort & alter your speech… Work with what you got.

That being said, identifying with the stigmatized character & challenging that stigma is awesome. I am grateful for your self-love & advocacy.

However, remember how I mentioned that self-deprecation read I got (at the end of the 2nd paragraph)… self-deprecation requires thinking something about yourself is wrong/objectionable etc. Therefore other people might think you don’t like those parts about others/them or even yourself.

In conclusion, for purposes of communication I’d not unless you’re explicitly in contexts about identity, stigmatization etc. Because of the word histories I mentioned above I think “fag” better fits your needs than “faggot”.

That reminds me, I’ve heard “faggy” used as an adjective for the characterizations of “fag” stereotypes. Also because “-y” endings meaning not only adjective like something but also affectionate noun, that might be an option to look into, since body language demonstrating affection might be better read with the -y ending being used for “cute” instead of just “thing”. But context is everything.

Good Luck, Peace & LoveEve

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sixtycroissants-blog · 7 years

Text

what do you want me to say.

tw: mention of suicide and slurs

I started making videos related to social justice because of a video I saw circulating at the time. It was of a little girl who couldn’t have been more than 4 years old, crying to her mother because she thought that being black made her ugly. This really resonated with me. I grew up thinking that the color of my skin was something holding me back from being anywhere near beautiful, let alone to just be accepted in some instances. This was because of personal situations and instances that had happened to me over the course of my childhood.

Seeing the video at the time that I did, having grown up and gotten over many of those horrible internalized racist thoughts, that video broke me. I couldn’t stop crying about it, because that little girl was me. That little girl was millions of people who have experienced that pain and isolation that she was feeling as young as a toddler. I wanted to do something. I was becoming more confident in myself and my identity, and I wanted to help other people gain that confidence as well. I wanted to make sure no child ever cried again because of their identity.

I loved making videos on these topics. It generated great feedback and discussions from people watching my videos, and outside of my channel in particular, it was a jumping point for many conversations with friends. It was helping to further the much needed discussion on topics such as race, ethnicity, and sexuality. I, of course, made mistakes at times, as we all do, and I tried my hardest to rectify them as best as you can for youtube videos (usually by adding notes in the description correcting mistakes I made and crediting those who had taught me that what I was saying was misinformed). I really appreciated those who were correcting and informing me because they were doing for me what I was trying to do for everyone else. They were doing their part to make sure that everyone would be as safe and comfortable in that space as possible.

Purely based off of what I’ve seen on youtube recently, I feel like the ‘hate videos’ came almost later than expected. I feel as though the only reason they took so long was because I wasn’t popular and didn’t dedicated the entirety of my channel towards social justice (also my system for tagging videos was atrocious). There were a few comments here and there that were offensive, but they were so few and far between that most of the time I could laugh them off.

It was only when I made a video with my friend, my beautiful, talented, amazing, educated, strong friend, Riley, that those other people started to take notice. I want to state this as clearly as I can: I am in no way shape or form putting any blame whatsoever on Riley for any of this, and I absolutely never will. I have so much respect for her and what she does, on youtube and elsewhere, and I am always blown away by the power and impact she has. And after the mental toll all of this took on me, my respect for her has done nothing but increase- she deals with situations like this all the time, and yet she still stays strong and fights the good fight. I wish I had her strength.

So because of the amazing creator Riley is, she has a much larger following than me, which of course meant our video would expose me to more people who had no idea I existed. And they took this upon themselves as a new opportunity to destroy the spirit of someone trying to make a positive difference (essentially, an opportunity to tear me to shreds).

I could write many posts on my feelings about this, and I probably will eventually. But right now I want to focus on what exactly these people want. The ones who specialize in ripping a video, creating their own video from it pointing out every flaw, every word, every single instance they possibly can, and using that to discredit the original person and their ideas. The ones who use their skills of editing to not create their own content; their ability to film themselves not to make something original, but instead use their time, energy, and skill set to laugh at and mock someone expressing their struggles in the hopes of reaching an understanding. The ones who are apparently so passionate about saying how wrong we are for our ‘feminazi views’ that they’ll go to the length of harassing creators on various platforms, but are too scared to post a picture of themselves and will hide behind usernames and empty profile pictures.

I want to know what you want out of this. I want to know what result you’re looking for. I want to know your goals.

Do you want me to find your video? Do you want me to watch it and feel a sinking feeling in my chest? Do you want me to comment, ‘you know what, you’re right, I am confused about my identity. you, a stranger, know more about me than I do’?

Do you want me to thank you? Do you want me to look you in the eyes, shake your hand, and say ‘thank you for showing me I am a stupid social justice warrior, you were right, I’m much happier feeling the abuse you sent my way, not only from your video, but from the hundreds of others that because of your video, now send me daily harassment. it’s all thanks to you’?

Do you want me to do what you tell me to in your videos? Is it as simple as changing my hair, my voice, my face, my attitude, my passion? Is it as simple as following your instructions? As simple as listening to your comments? Do I, in fact, have to ‘kill myself u racist n*gger f*ggot’ for you to get what you want? Is that it? Do you want to see the light leave my eyes? Is that what it’s going to take?

And for what, exactly? What is your goal? Sure, you could very much argue the same for the people you’re making these videos about, but I already know what their answer would be- they’re trying to do what I did. They’re trying to make sure no one feels that pain, isolation, fear, or hurt, just because of the way they were born; the way they identify. They’re trying to make the world a better place, even if it is in the smallest way. They’re trying to make people feel good.

So what exactly do you want here? What do you want to get from all of this? What do you want me to say?

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