being openly #unimpressed by men is some of the most fun you can have for free. they don’t know what to do when you won’t let them have the power!
today is transgender day of visibility, so a friendly important reminder to cis people, especially those who call themselves allies,
today is not a day for you to out your trans friends/acquaintances, because of “pride and visibility.” That’s not supportive, it’s dangerous. If you know someone is closeted, do not pressure them to post selfies or come out or whatever today. use the pronouns they need to use in public for their safety.
if you want to be supportive today, reblog selfies and information by people who are out and want their voices boosted. donate to trans charities and gofundmes/donation posts on here, if you’re in a monetary situation you can do so. check in on your trans/nb friends (privately) and see if they’re doing okay.
cis people can and are encouraged to reblog this for reference and to inform other cis people.
I don’t think I’ve ever been a good dog.
Good dogs protect their families without hesitation, but I always ran when He came home. I never knew how to act around Him. The bad times could happen at any time and even though He mostly ignored me no one else was that lucky.
I thought about biting him. I growled once, before I learned to never do that again. After that I hid, only coming out to follow the sounds of crying and nose at the bruises. Pathetic.
A good dog would have fixed it. A good dog wouldn’t be scared.
When we moved into the new house there was something already living there, something that good dogs chase away. A thick shadow thing that stood in the halls at night, making hungry sounds.
It watched Him.
I watched it.
We had been living there for a year before I saw it move. I followed it down to the living room where it crawled up the couch and poured itself into his sleeping mouth. He gurgled and twitched and I hid under the big chair until he stopped clawing at his throat. When he sat up, he smiled and tried to call to me.
I stayed under the big chair for three days.
It’s been inside him for a while now, constantly writhing under his skin. No one else notices. It’s hard for humans to see I think. Seeing is a dog’s gift and if I was a good dog I would tell them.
But.
No one has cried for so long. No one hides. There are no more bruises. I let it sit beside me and scratch behind my ears. It’s voice is so nice and calm.
It calls me a good dog.
the micro fiction i wrote for Alice X’s march prompt of “
super friendly but misunderstood parasites” over on patreon.its not a traditional nice parasite story but i’d written a traditional nice parasite story years ago and i didn’t want to repeat myself. plus, i don’t know if anyone else’s family holds this superstition, but i’ve been taught all my life that if a pet won’t go in a room or walk over a particular thing i should just follow its lead. so the thought of a pet willfully ignoring whatever it sees is both interesting and spooky whether the story is about shadow demons or human robbers.
I’ve been fantasizing of someone doing exactly this to me for weeks. I seem to be developing a rather large straitjacket thing too. Mmm.
It’s incredibly cute! This post is filled with care and love! Amazing! Parents from the black community are forced to take care of the mental health of their children from an early age, because they will face many problems related to the color of their skin, throughout their lives!
Follow the example of this wonderful and caring mother, for the sake of the future generation!
#BlackPride