@cactus-brandon - Sure, I’ll play ball. You asked a fair question so I’ll give a fair and detailed answer (And try to keep it contained, because this is a very raw topic for me). And then I will ask you some fair questions in return.
As I stated in that reply to that tiktok, I was a ‘trans teen’.
(As an aside, I no longer believe in such a thing as a ‘trans teen’. There are teenagers with sex dysphoria, there are teenagers who may identify as transgender. But there is no physical, biological difference between a ‘trans’ teen and a ‘cis’ teen. It’s all a matter of the mind.)
I was at that conference specifically for that reason you stated, to get informed. I ‘consented’ to, if you will, sitting in a room full of teens at age 17, as one of the older teens in the room, and watch a graphic slideshow presented by Dr Crutis Crane about all the ways that he could possibly surgically alter my genitals to make me happy and fulfilled. Read that sentence as many times as you need to realize what a deeply fucked up scenario that is.
It is one thing being a teenager, of your own volition, googling and scrolling through image results of trans surgeries and fantasizing about what could be. It is quite another thing to have the very man who does those surgeries, an authority figure, show you those same pictures and give you ‘funny’ anecdotes about the people he performed those surgeries on. Normalizing it, minimizing it.
Here’s another thing - Dr Crane specifically has been sued for malpractice 8 times in San Francisco until he moved his practice to Texas. I’m sure 4th Wave Now is not the source you would prefer to read, but even if you skip the written commentary, please read the court document excerpts included. Read about his negligence, read about the results he has gotten, read about the pain his patients had to go through because of him. Read about him cutting into parts that they did not consent to.
Is that the kind of man that teenagers should trust with their health, with their unconscious bodies? A man who makes cheeky jokes on tiktok about ‘ISIS-defeating phalloplasties’ while his patients are dealing with necrosis, perforated colons, and abdominal abscesses?
And after reading that: Do you trust that man to give a room full of teenagers the full story about what they can expect from invasive genital surgery? This man who profits off of the insecurities of vulnerable teenagers, and vulnerable people in general? This man who serves the Trans community, a community deeply concerned with receiving proper medical treatment, who goes on to mistreat and harm those community members?
Besides that, full stop, something has gone very wrong indeed when teenagers are fantasizing about all the plastic surgeries they want to get - be it breast implants, breast removal, rhinoplasty, lip fillers, and genital surgeries like metoidioplasty, phalloplasties, vaginoplasties, and labiaplasties. They should be focusing on their education and making stupid, fixable teenage mistakes. They should not be getting surgeries that will make them life-long medical patients and have irreversible impact on their adult sexual health and relationships when they are not even adults nor have even had sex yet.
Physically speaking, teenagers have not done all of the physical growing up needed to make those kinds of long lasting choices - the frontal lobe which accounts for long term planning and consequences is not fully formed. I know. I was one. And I got my screaming and crying and complaining about not getting my ‘life-saving trans surgeries’ out of my system by age 19 and now I’m a 24 year old homosexual adult. And I am far from alone.
If you got this far, dear @cactus-brandon, I thank you for taking the time to read. If not, I hope someone else gets something out of this.
Now I have some very fair questions for you, if you’ll have them:
Doesn’t it bother you that those teenagers, many of whom suffer depression, anxiety, and PTSD, or have ADHD or are autistic are being offered drastic genital surgeries and hormones instead of therapies and resources and skills to deal with their dysphoria?
Doesn’t it bother you that a good share of those teenagers were part of the foster care system, living in unstable situations? Don’t they deserve a safe place to live before they start cutting off pieces of themselves?
Doesn’t it bother you that hormone treatments and castration have historically been used as ways to convert and prevent homosexual people from living healthy fulfilled lives?
Doesn’t it bother you that in some conservative countries with high trans acceptance rates and low homosexuality acceptance rates, that transition is used as a way to turn gay individuals straight, on threat of ostricisation, violence and death?
Doesn’t it bother you that the majority of the teenagers in that room, myself included, will grow out of their gender dysphoria - so long as they do not have any of those medical interventions? That the majority of those teens will grow up to be happy, healthy, homosexual or bisexual adults - no genital surgery required?
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The morning dawned cold but bright, the light crept over the horizon and Michael closed his eyes to the rising sun.
Last part, previously seen HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE
The morning dawned cold but bright, the light crept over the horizon and Michael closed his eyes to the rising sun. Alex was breathing easily in his arms, most of him draped over Michael’s body in a clinging wrap of dark hair and toned muscle. Kissing Alex, silencing those doubts and chasing away that perceived rejection was just the first action.
The second was talking.
The Wild Pony had so much history. There were weighted memories but joyous ones as well, and complicated emotions involving them both with recent ex-partners that it wasn’t the proper neutral ground for them. He had texted Rosa to leave the truck at the Crashdown, and helped Alex pack up the rest of his equipment from the bar before they both left together in the Explorer. After a stop at a 7-11 for water and supplies, their journey continued.
It had said something about how well they knew each other that Alex had turned toward the direction out of town and headed for an old dirt road that paralleled the property line of the Foster’s ranch without Michael’s suggestion to guide him. There under the shade of the trunk hatch, they had laid out blankets among the only real witnesses to their old love affair, the tall cactus and the swaying stalks of feather-grass.
It was only fair after that love song that Alex had played that Michael spoke first.
“I have only played guitar once since my hand got healed.”
“Because five minutes after I finished playing, I felt Max die. I just figured that was the universe talking to me.”
Alex had looked worried at that comment, but had still asked with a soft voice, “What did you think the universe was telling you?”
“I’m not allowed peace, or to be happy. I dunno, whatever I do it’s always temporary. It either gets snatched away or I do something stupid and lose it.” Michael had licked his lips, looking down at his bare hands again before digging the bandanna out from his pocket to wrap around his left hand again. “I don’t like looking at my hand, not because I’m stuck in the past, but because it feels like it’s cheating. I got hurt trying to protect you, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat, it was worth it to me, and having that erased, the consequences of it- I dunno it really fucks my head up. Nothing feels real to me since. Nothing is permanent. Even now, playing the guitar again, and then finding out you still want me, like Alex- that kind of happiness scares me to death. I feel like at any moment a truck will hit me or lightning will strike.”
Alex had nodded after a moment, looking out over the bright sunshine as the sun started its slow return to the horizon. “If the truck comes or the lightning strikes, can’t it hit us together then? We’ve tried it every other way, Michael, except the way where we both chose each other. Can we just do that? Be together, maybe even mock the universe a bit by being happy?”
Michael hadn’t had an argument for that, not that he wanted to make one in the first place. So the rest of the afternoon slipped away between them. The guitars came out from their cases again, after Michael had shaken off that momentary envy that Alex could own four or five instruments as an adult, and then they played. Whatever mistakes he had made in the songs from the clumsy wrap on his hand gave the music a bit more weight. It had made it feel real.
Now as the sun started to slip between his uneven blinds of the Airstream, there was another brief touch of unreality as Michael nosed the warm skin of Alex’s throat. He was here, with Alex, and they were going to try again. Or for the first time depending on how it was counted.
“Mmm, you’re awake.”
Michael whispered into his ear before biting Alex’s ear lobe gently, “I am, and you feel so good right now.”
“Does it feel real yet?”
“It’s starting to. Ask me again in, say, twenty years?”
“Deal.” With that, Alex rolled on top of Michael and kissed him to seal it.
[THANK YOU everyone for sending me lines, I horribly failed at writing just five sentences, but it helped break out of some writer’s block. I have two more asks to tackle on another day, as I just wrote 3500 words in one sitting basically, lol. ]
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You’re a Mean One
Pairing: Frank Adler x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2,293
Summary: You and Mary play a holiday prank on Cranky Franky.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Hints at oral sex (M receiving). Slight cockwarming. Unprotected sex. Smut. 18+
A/N: This is for the holiday challenge hosted by the lovely @sagechanoafterdark & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork I love you both - thank you for hosting this challenge! ❤️I used this prompt:
Song Prompt: Mr Grinch by Thurl Ravenscroft (Song lyrics credited to him!)
“Goddamnit!” Frank hollered as he tread on a pile of legos on his way to the living room. “Mary! What have I told you about leaving your toys all over the place?”
Grinning up at you from her place cuddled beside you on the sofa, Mary yelled back, “That I better stop or you’ll donate them to kids who actually deserved them.”
More muttered words clearly highlighting his displeasure rumbled from Frank, who was still out of sight, and you snickered, grabbing your phone from beside you and opening Spotify.
Both you and Mary had been waiting for the perfect moment to unleash your holiday prank on Frank, and it seemed like that perfect moment was now.
“Ready?” you whispered, your eyes mirroring the mischief in the tiny genius’ own gaze.
“Ready,” she nodded, glancing down at your phone and watching as you pulled up the song you were looking for. Giggling, Mary’s finger hovered over the green play button on the screen as you both waited for Frank to appear.
He did so, still glowering, opening his mouth for another round of complaints, but Mary’s finger dropped to your screen with purpose, the song erupting from your phone at the highest volume possible…
You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,
You really are a heel,
You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch,
You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel!
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch,
Your heart's an empty hole,
Your brain is full of spiders, you have garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch,
I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!
You both fell into a fit of giggles as Frank huffed in offense, hands dropping to his hips as he eyed the pair of you with a narrowed gaze. “I am not--”
Nudging Mary with your arm, you began singing along to the song to drown him out, Mary joining in between squeals of laughter.
You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch,
You have termites in your smile,
You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch,
Given a choice between the two of you I'd take the seasick crocodile!
Clenching his jaw, Frank rolled his eyes before storming out back toward the garage to work on his latest job.
Still snickering, you paused the song, glancing over at Mary, who was holding up her hand expectedly.
Grinning, you gently slapped your palm to hers, giving her a high five.
“I think we got him good,” you murmured, smoothing a hand over her soft, blonde hair. What do you think?”
“I think we got him really good!” Mary emphasized, her grin growing bigger. “He’s gonna hate that song by the new year.”
“He probably already hates it. He’s Frank,” you said, as if that explained everything.
Mary collapsed in a fit of giggles, holding her stomach as she laughed.
“I’m gonna go check on our Grinch real quick,” you told her, pushing yourself to your feet.
Mary waved you off half-heartedly, still giggling, and you couldn’t help but grin as you slipped on your shoes and made your way to the garage.
You found Frank sitting at his work bench, his back to you as he fiddled with some boat part and tools you couldn’t name if your life depended on it.
Keeping your footfalls quiet, you closed the distance between you before pressing yourself to Frank’s back. You slid your hands against his shoulders, giving them a squeeze.
He stiffened momentarily, a tsking scoff sort of noise sounding from him as he ignored you.
“Aw, are you seriously mad?” you teased, pressing a kiss to his stubbly cheek.
Frank didn’t respond, instead focusing on his work.
“If you are,” you drew out the word against his ear before giving his lobe a gentle nip, grinning as he shuddered. “You’re just proving our point, Mister Grinch.”
“It’s not funny,” Frank huffed.
“It’s a little funny,” you told him, kissing his cheek again before rounding him and seating yourself on his lap sideways. You faux pouted at him as Frank sighed in irritation before setting down his tools. You smiled in victory as his arm slid around your back, his other hand settling on your bare thigh.
“Poor Cranky Franky…” you cooed, teasing the short hair at the nape of his neck with your fingers.
“Better watch it,” he hummed, fingers inching beneath the hem of your shorts. “Or you’ll find yourself on the naughty list before Christmas.”
Leaning in to hug him, you nuzzled your nose against his. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Frank chuckled. “What do you suppose bad girls on the naughty list do to get there?”
“Probably something like this,” you hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
When you pulled away, Frank’s eyebrows were raised, unimpressed. “Do you know what the word ‘naughty’ means?”
You grinned as you slid from his lap. “I wasn’t finished.” Your hands fell to the worn denim covering Frank’s thighs, and you pushed his legs apart, dropping to your knees between them. Your fingers were quick to unfasten the front of his jeans.
“Oh-kay,” Frank groaned, hips rutting as your hand slid inside his jeans and along the hardening length of him. “You definitely know what ‘naughty’ means.”
Giggling, you pulled him free from his jeans and got to work on solidifying your spot on the naughty list.
It was Christmas Eve night, and Mary was practically bouncing in her seat on the sofa, eyes sparkling as she watched Frank enter the room with a big bowl of popcorn.
Grinning at the two of you and your matching Christmas jammies, he settled in the space between you. “Okay, are we ready to do this Christmas movie thing?”
“Yes!” Mary chirped, scrambling for the remote to the DVD player.
“And then once we’re done, it’s bedtime, right?” Frank asked her.
Mary huffed, rolling her eyes, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, I guess. Then you can pretend to be Santa and set out all my presents.”
“Who said you’re getting any presents?” Frank teased, reaching for some popcorn.
Scoffing her offense, Mary dropped her hand to her little hip, her brows furrowing.
She and Frank had a silent stare down, and eventually, Mary’s frown slowly morphed into a smile. She bounded back to her seat beside him.
“Let’s watch the movie, Uncle Frank. I think you’re gonna love it.”
Frank only had a moment to frown at her gleeful tone and glance your way in confusion before Mary hit play and the classic Christmas cartoon lit up the TV screen.
It took Frank a minute to realize what the movie was, but once all the Whos down in Whoville were on screen, he was groaning his irritation. “Of for fuck’s sake!”
“Frank!” you chastised, muffling your laughter behind your hand as Mary gasped out a dramatic:
“Language, Uncle Frank!!!!”
“I’m not watching this,” Frank muttered, moving to sit up, but you both latched onto him, you on his right arm, and Mary on his left. You both began protesting and tugging him back in his seat.
And although he could have easily broken your grip, Frank heaved a sigh of longsuffering before collapsing back against the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest, and glaring at the TV.
You and Mary leaned around him at the same moment, sharing delighted evil grins before settling in for the movie.
Cuddling closer to Frank, you smiled when he begrudgingly lifted his arm and curled it around your shoulder, tugging you against him. His head dropped toward yours, voice a barely audible murmur as he told you, “You’re so gonna get it for this, sweetheart. You won’t be able to sit right all weekend, just wait.”
Feeling your face warm as you squirmed at his threat, you smothered a playful, “Promises, promises,” against his shoulder before Mary was shushing you both.
“Bedtime, Mary, let’s go,” Frank hummed, gently patting her back as she leaned against him, hugging his chest as he sat on the edge of the sofa.
“No,” she whined, shaking her head. “I don’t want Christmas to be over.”
His lips curled as he glanced up at you, watching with a warm fondness in his gaze as you straightened up the living room, tucking Mary’s new presents beneath the tree so they were out of the way until she moved them to her room.
“Did you have a nice Christmas?” he asked Mary, rubbing a hand up her back.
She nodded against his shoulder, yawning a sleepy, “Yeah.”
“What was your favorite present?”
“The Grinch stuffed animal Y/N got me,” she giggled as Frank sputtered in offense. “What was your favorite gift?”
“Definitely not your Grinch stuffed animal,” he muttered, making both of you laugh. He rolled his eyes at you, smiling as he nudged Mary to her feet. “Come on, kiddo. You’re gonna have the best sleep of your life after today’s excitement.”
Mary started whining wordlessly but didn’t resist as Frank scooped her up in his arms and moved toward the hall.
“Wait,” you told him, coming up close and pressing a kiss to Mary’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweet girl. I hope you had a good day.”
Mary blinked at you sleepily, a small smile twisting her lips. “I had a really good day. G’night.”
“Night.” You watched as Frank disappeared down the hall before shutting off all the lights and making your way to the bedroom you and Frank shared.
You knew he’d probably stay with Mary till she passed out, so you did your nighttime routine, changed into an old, worn, and ridiculously soft t-shirt of Frank’s, and collapsed into bed on your stomach, hugging your pillow, and resting your eyes for a few minutes.
You must have dozed off, because next thing you knew, the bed was dipping beside you, and a pleasant heat warmed your back.
Frank kissed your cheek, hovering over you as he kissed and nuzzled his way along your shoulder and down your back, hands pushing your shirt up until bare skin was revealed.
“I’m so sleepy,” you slurred, humming as Frank’s lips mouthed a trail up your spine.
“Come on, I wanna show you my thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole,” he whispered against your ear.
You giggled, eyes fluttering open as you glanced at him over your shoulder, spying his grin. “Can’t you show me tomorrow morning?”
He pouted at you, stretching out beside you before tugging you back against him, the little spoon to his big spoon as he pulled the blankets up around you both and slid his leg between yours.
“But it’s Christmas, baby,” he murmured, hand smoothing over your hip and rucking up your shirt as he did so. “And my heart isn’t the only thing that grew three sizes today.”
Your snort of laughter turned into a quiet “oh” as Frank ground his erection against your ass the same moment his fingers dipped between your legs and pressed at the front of your panties. “Frank.”
“Least keep me warm,” he purred against your ear, kissing and nipping against your skin until you were squirming and shifting restlessly against him and shoving down your panties.
“Good girl,” Frank squeezed your hip, hand falling to play between your thighs, until you were a moaning, whimpering mess and he was lining himself up and slowly sliding home. “Fuck, you always feel so good, sweetheart.”
“Frank,” his name was a breathy sigh on your lips, your belly tightening as pleasure pooled deep in your core. You couldn’t help but rock against him, wanting to feel him deeper, craving the friction only he could give you.
But then his hand was on your hip, stilling you. You could feel him smile against your shoulder when you made a noise of distress.
“Thought you were sleepy, baby?”
“Thought you wanted to fuck me?” you grumped.
Frank laughed quietly. “Watch it, Missus Grinch.”
The promise of sleep falling away from you fast, you twisted against Frank, hand sliding behind his head and pulling him into a kiss as you clenched around him hard.
Frank moaned, grunting out an obscenity as you pulled away with a smirk.
“Come on, Cranky Franky,” you whispered, teasing his parted lips as he glared at you with lust-blown eyes. “All I want for Christmas is you...and your cum filling me up.”
With a quiet, guttural growl, Frank pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach, smirking as you yelped. His hands were hot brands on your hips as he tugged you onto your knees, settling behind you.
“Ass up then, baby,” he drawled, big hands smoothing over said curve as he leaned over you. “So I can make sure you have a very merry Christmas.”
You both moaned as Frank drove into you hard, until he was as deep as your trembling body would allow, rocking against your ass with a dirty grind.
“Gonna ruin this sweet pussy,” Frank panted against your shoulder, planting a kiss to your skin before leaning back behind you and settling his hands on your hips. “Make you scream my name.”
He retreated before driving into you hard, making you gasp his name sharply as your fingers curled against the messy sheets.
“Then I’m gonna fill you up with my cream, sweetheart,” Frank grunted, the pounding of his hips against yours relentless as your soft whimpers and quiet moans filled the room.
“And show you just what kind of gift naughty girls get for Christmas.”
As Frank made good on his word, working your body until you were mindlessly drooling into the sheets, your pleasure cresting higher and higher, you fleetingly thought that being on the naughty list was totally fucking worth it.
Lol I don’t even know what’s happening but my panties are ruined and I’m feeling REALLY GOOD. 👍🏻
Pretty, festive divider made by @firefly-graphics 😍
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