tr*p is a slur too, idc abt your little anime meme go outside jeff
this is all tru but also. a lot of older trans people may use some of these now-considered-outdated terms to describe themselves. dont try to correct them ull only come off as a disrespectful kid who doesnt kno the history of our community.
Good point! Even though a lot of these are considered offensive and slurs. Slurs can be reclaimed! Just dont use them as umbrella terms and dont use them to describe people who dont want those terms to describe them!
how come nobody is mentioning that people still use “cuntboy” and “futa”
you’re goddamn right
People who use some of these terms can be excused for ignorance, but those who use “trap”, “futa” and “femboy” in real life unironically need a backhand
Do y’all want to hear a secret story I’ve never told anyone?
(ok here goes. its funny i promise)
At the time this story took place, I was like 6 years old. Growing up, I was a very mature child because I was never around other kids my age. My mom used to work a lot, so that left me with my dad but my dad was high off his ass (weed smoker) all the time, so he’d be passed out. My siblings were all in their late teens and with friends, so when I got home it was just me by myself. Everyday
And I had no other way to entertain myself than by watching TV. I watched everything, but my favorite was the after dark shows that came on HBO and stuff. The down side of watching those things was that I learned about things that was way ahead of my time with no adult supervision.
Well, one day when I came home from school I was watching TV (dad was alseep again and I was alone) and I saw one of those little flity phone companies. They were like sex operators or whatever, but at that time, my naive ass just thought that it was to find best friends. Like penpals and stuff, so one day I got the house phone and dialed the number.
The first thing that popped up was this super seductive voice but my dumb ass just assumed the person was sick (lmfao) and it said “For a man, press one. For a woman, press two.”
So I was thinking “Boys are gross, I need a best friend that’s a girl.” So I pressed two.
It rang a couple times until this lady answered the phone and I remember her saying “Hey, my name is Cynthia. What’s your name?”
So I was like ‘shit I gotta come up with something cool to tell my bestie’ “What’s up, Cynthia.”
And immediately, she got super quiet before she asked me “Um…whom am I speaking to?”
“The name is Delilah, but all my friends call me D.” (I remember I was coloring in my Lisa Frank diary when I said it too omg)
And Cynthia got quiet again before speaking. “Uh, how old are you?”
“I’m six and a half.” *scribbles in diary harder* “What about you?”
So she got super quiet again and was like “Uh…sweetie, where is your mother?”
“My mom’s at her job. Something my dad can’t seem to get.” *takes a sip from juicebox*
And I could hear her let out a stiffled laugh from the other line before clearing her throat. “Well, where is your father?”
“My dad smoked too much weed again and he passed out. Again.”
This time, she let out a louder laugh and I was like ‘heck yeah I made a friend. Check mate.’
So Cynthia askes me another question. “You’re not old enough to be on here, honey. I think you should hang up.”
So I got really pressed and kinda got sassy with her and busted out a line I had seen used in the movie Clueless. “Listen Cynthia, I’m a young, independent woman that don’t need no man. I need a friend, okay? It said you’d be nice to me on the TV.”
At this point I could hear her laughing really loud and before I could finish, she stopped me. “C-Can you hold on one second, honey? I’ll be right back. Stay right where you are.”
I was like “Okay.” And in the mean time, I made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and got some juice to get comfy while I waited. She finally came back like five minutes later and asked me if I was still there. I told her I was and this time, I could hear my voice echo a bit, meaning I was on speaker obivously.
“How old are you again?” She asked.
“I’m six and a half, don’t forget it, girlfriend!” *sassily snaps my fingers and takes a sip from juice*
This time, i could hear people laughing and saying ‘oh my god’ and shit like that in the background, so I asked her who it was. She told me they were her buddies and I remember saying something like “It’s always good to have ya homeis with you, right?’ and everyone laughed again.
Then they started asking me all kinds of shit too.
“Where do you live?”
“In a house, duh.”
“What school do you go to?”
“Why? So you can kidnap me? No thanks, girl.”
“How did you even get this number?”
“The TV, duh.”
Now after a while the group of people buzzed off and it was just me and Cynthia on the phone. We had a cool conversation about Lisa Frank books and I learned that she lived in Seattle with her boyfriend and that she had a little girl a couple years older than me.
At one point, I told her about the boys in my school that were bullying me and that I didn’t think I was very pretty. And you know what? She gave me some advice that I never forgot, even til this very day I still remembered it. She told me,
“Sometimes people will be mean to you for no reason and they won’t like you, but all that matters is if you like you. If you like yourself, that’s all that matters.”
Now at one point, nine o’clock rolled around and it was my bedtime, so I sadly told Cynthia “Okay, bestie. Its my bed time. I don’t wanna miss out on my beauty sleep.” and after exchanging goodbyes, we hung up.
So yeah, that’s my experience with the chatlines. Sometimes I think about Cynthia and wonder what happened to her in life. Is she still with her boyfriend? How is her daughter? I’ll never know.
I never told anyone this until now because its too good not to share lmfao. Adult supervision is important!
This is amazing and I’m so glad you shared it. I hope Cynthia is living her best life.
You’re a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her.
She is devoid of any scales or fur, this tiny ball of squalling royalty.
The knight that holds her is bleeding out more sluggishly than before, running out of life and time as he begs me to take care of her.
“No revenge.” I murmur to him; that is not my way.
“No.” He agrees softly, kneeling before my bulk and drip-dripping his life onto my floor.
“No revenge. Just want her to live.”
He topples over suddenly, and I let him fall. The ball of swaddling is what I catch in my claws. A paltry offering of gold falls from the blankets, body-warm and forgotten as I lift this princess to observe her more closely.
I see aquamarine glittering in her face, eyes lit up with tears in the rose gold hue of her cheeks. She is snotty and soiled, bloodied and unhappy. And she is mine.
“You will need milk.” I sigh, walking best I can on three legs to the back of the cave to settle her in a cradle of smooth gems. Oddly befitting her status, though it means nothing anymore. I breathe hotly over her, the screaming quieting in the face of warm air and the white noise I make.
“Sleep, princess.” I murmur soothingly. “I will return with food.”
————
“Get down from there.”
I do not need to raise my voice, she knows well enough who I am speaking to and what I speak about. She jumps from the tree branch she had been climbing and lands on my head.
“I want to fly like you do.”
Oh, she is stubborn, with hair like fire and those aquamarine eyes. She pulls at my scales and bares her blunt little teeth in a copy of my own snarl.
“I could gobble you up.” I warn, unable to hide the smile in my voice. It is good she is stubborn; any dragon should be just a little head-strong.
“I would break your teeth with my skull!” She cackles back, scrabbling down to my back to nuzzle the soft leather of my wings.
“When will my wings grow?”
Always so full of questions.
“Maybe never. There are land dragons, sea dragons, dragons of the sky…perhaps you will lose your arms and legs and become a wyrm.”
She laughs her harsh cackle, biting at me playfully.
I love her so.
I cannot even bring myself to tell her she is not a dragon.
i cannot even bring myself to tell her she is not a dragon ^Haiku^bot^8. I detect haikus with 5-7-5 format. Sometimes I make mistakes.
A powerful witch runs away after the villagers try to execute her, couple years later children randomly start disappearing. She’s taking abused children away from their parents and raising them in the woods. But once they grow up and leave, they forget how to get to the witch’s house and their memories of her become blurry.
The town was evil. But the children? They were still pure, there was still good in their hearts, trickling out of their mouth and ears and gentle hands.
She stayed there for years, trying to protect them as much as she can. Even after the villagers had enough of a witch living amongst them, she still took in the lost children.
Every parent’s worst nightmare is their children growing up. The witch was no different.
Her kids, they called her mama once. And now when they passed her as adults, they didn’t even give her a second glance. As far as she figured, they didn’t remember her at all.
(She’d tried talking to Benjamin once, one of her favourites, because he had been a clingy child who couldn’t bear to leave her side. He was thirty when she tried visiting him. When she approached him, he treated her kindly, but the kind of pleasantness you show to strangers and not someone you call your mother.)
The witch was sad, of course. But there was nothing she could do; they had to go, sooner or later.
One of her boys entered her room. “Mama?”
It was Peter, her oldest. He was turning eighteen in a couple of days, and soon it would be his turn to leave.
It hurt her to see him already.
“Yes, love?”
“I am leaving soon,” Peter said. A statement, not a question. “But I don’t want to.”
“You have to, love. None of your siblings wanted to leave,” she answered, simply. “But the hour you turn eighteen, you’ll forget. And you’ll wander off, and then you’ll never find your way back.”
Peter looked sulky. “Isn’t there some way to make me not forget? I don’t want to forget you, ever.”
She almost laughed because of how close she was to crying. Her boy. Her sweet, sweet boy.
“I’m sorry, love.”
He slammed the door behind her when he left. Peter had always been a fiery one.
When she opened the door on the day of Peter’s eighteenth birthday, she expected him to be gone by then.
Instead, her boy was sitting on the bed cross-legged, holding an empty bottle.
He had drunk a potion. An anti-aging potion.
“I found a way, mama,” he said, his eighteen-year-old hands clasping here, firmly. “I don’t want to forget you.”
He left, too, when he got bored of being cooped up in the house with no company. But he visited her every few years, bringing her stories of how he visited children, following in her footsteps.
They called him Peter Pan, the boy who never grows up.
whenever i find monty python casually just on my dashboard i just blink a few times and then get super fucking excited because i don’t see them as much as i’d like to on tumblr
If I don’t reblog Monty Python when it crosses my dash, assume I’m dead.
never say anything to a penguin that the penguin has not already said to you
this reads like a shitpost but i’m actually 100% serious.
i was walking along the side of the harbour this evening, just after all the penguins had come in from the ocean to nest. there was one penguin right by the footpath, and when it saw me it kept saying ‘höö’. so i said ‘höö’ right back. it seemed to like that, and we had a lovely conversation where we just kept saying ‘höö’ to each other. i crouched down about two metres away from it, and we kept talking, and it actually moved towards me a little bit, seeming to prefer my company to the heartless embrace of the sea.
but then i made the mistake of trying to change things up. i said ‘hweh’, which was something that a previous penguin said to me, and this penguin hated it, and fucked right off. never said another word to me. i felt so rude.
I keep imagining this from the penguin’s point of view:
“Gustav, my friend, why so glum?”
The penguin in question looked up from his half-eaten sprat, shaking his head in disgust.
“Not glum, Sebastian. Affronted, outraged - I had the most perturbing encounter with one of the Beakless Ones.”
Sebastian nodded solemnly. “Yes, they are often perturbing. What happened, my friend?”
Gustav sighed heavily, looking up to the sky and holding his flippers wide, as if to ask the gods “why?”, before mournfully retelling his experience, “I was on the beach where the Beakless sometimes wander, contemplating names for this year’s chicks, when one of them approached. It seemed harmless enough to greet - they’re cute, in a strange, bald and flat-faced way, are they not?”
“Oh Gustav, you kind-hearted fool.”
“Such a fool, I am!” Gustav’s moans had gathered a small crowd already - the only thing penguins love more than a bellyful of fish, is a story. A good storyteller was always guaranteed a warm spot to huddle in the winter, surrounded by bored friends longing for entertainment.
“What did it do, Gustav? Did it kick you?”
“No! When it got close, I called out to it, ‘hello, friend!’. It stopped and returned the greeting - awkwardly, but it was rather sweet, like a chick learning it’s first chirps. ‘Hollow fren,’ it said back to me. I was charmed, but not wanting it to learn poor pronunciation, I repeated the greeting, and so did it! Getting clearer each time, till it could almost pass for a true penguin itself.”
“Gustav is a wonderful teacher,” Adelina, his mate, stated with a proud nod of her lovely blue head. “You remember how well our chicks could enunciate, before they even caught their first fish.”
“But what of it, Gustav? What happened to sour this experience so?”
“We went back and forth, till I was satisfied. It lowered itself near the ground, and I moved closer, carefully, not wanting to alarm it. I was just about to tell it how pleased I was, that it learning so quickly, when all of a sudden, it looked me right in the eye and said ‘Fuck off, freak.’”
There were avian gasps all around.
“Oh no!”
“How rude!”
“I was so appalled, I could not bring myself to even chide it.” Gustav bowed his head in shame. “I turned and left without another word.”
“It said that to you? Oh dear.” Sebastian tilted his head in a piercing glare towards one of their fellows, focusing on the only one who was slapping his sides and chortling. “Björn, you scoundrel! What have I told you about yelling obscenities at the Beakless?”
Björn cackled and bobbed his head in defiance. “How was its enunciation, Gustav? You soft-hearted buffoon!”
Funny how sex is an irresistible human urge when a man rapes a woman but when a woman gets pregnant and wants an abortion she should have been smarter and thought twice before having sex if she didn’t want a child
See, this is why I get so pissed when like, my mom says “well what about the good cops?”
Cops that refuse to confront and stand up to the racism and violence in their force aren’t “good cops”. Cops that blatantly disregard that police have made a fuckinf habit of murdering black people aren’t “good cops”. Cops that will not acknowled that they are part of an institution that terrorizes, oppresses, and fucking slaughters civilians disproportionately are not “good cops”.
And the actually “good cops” who do that stuff? They get fucking penalized for it. They get fired for it. Cops, as a force, as a system, are inherently racist. And 10/10 times people say “well what about the nice police” it’s fucking derailment because we aren’t talking about individuals. We’re talking about a whole fucked up system.
And I could go on about how there is a huge problem with domestic violence among police and how I think that there is something to be said about the kind of people who become cops/ what happens when you hand power to those ppl, but I think that’s for another day.
