☽

dogpossum on the internet

[patricia-taxxon]

shoutout to all the girls who are into fucked up shit but don't have any obvious trauma to use as a scapegoat. shine on u freaky pervert

[patricia-taxxon]

couldn't be me, i was beaten as a puppy & it made me feel funny

[prty-grrl]

real. sometimes it's buried deep down in there! sometimes it's not! you don't need a reason! you can be a freaky pervert it's fun and it sure as hell beats the alternative of attempting to conform and deny it

[patricia-taxxon]

some people are the kind of traumatized where they shut down and never tell anyone about themselves out of a base desire for self-preservation, i am the opposite. every second that you are friends with me but don't know all the worst things about me feels like I'm just lying to you, and I'm dying to rip the bandaid off.

[patricia-taxxon]

this is why basically everyone who i talk to regularly knows all about my storied history with dadfucking

[patricia-taxxon]

anyways stream the flowers of robert mapplethorpe

[patricia-taxxon]

i've seen the comments on my furry ethics video, i've seen the thousand variations of "what did you just do to me?", i recognize that feeling of joyous reclamation because it's what I felt the first time I recounted my trauma to my best friend while in character as a dog, and suddenly everything made sense. no amount of moralistic scolding can take back that joyous reclamation, it's too late. :3

[patricia-taxxon]

if you wanted a clean argument for how to be a furry without ignorant people calling you a zoophile, i'm sorry. being a furry is a gesture towards the zoophilic, you're taking pleasure in that which is inhuman, not to skirt consent, but to be sexual and sensual as what you feel you truly are. you'll never find an easy line in the sand to draw, you'll never convince normies that being attracted to furries is exactly the same as being attracted to people, and doing so implies furrydom to be colorless and sterile. you can't unsay what you know to be true in your heart, it's too late.

[foone]

Idea: interspecies TF but it doesn't go like a werewolf movie, over in seconds or minutes, but like HRT.

Every morning you look in the mirror, pulling your mouth open to get a better look at your canines. Is it just you or are they a little bigger?

You turn your head sideways, seeing how much your face is stretching into a snout. You occasionally catch yourself looking at your hands, seeing how the skin on your palm is hardening into pawpads, how the tips of your fingers are stretching, your nails coalescing into claw tips.

You spend a while looking online at r/TFtimelines/, looking at other furries with a mix of envy and lust. God, you hope someday you can look a tenth as monstrous as them. You look up doctors in your area to see their ratings for bottom surgery (which is getting a tail), and wonder if your insurance will cover it.

It's not all physical changes, of course. You're noticing how your emotional state is shifting. You're staring at spreadsheets at work, in need of another coffee, and you have that thought again of just running into the woods. Your clothes seem tight and restrictive on you, and you know it had nothing to do with the fact you've gained 5 inches in height over the last year. It's more to do with feeling you shouldn't need to wear this business formal nonsense, you should be covered in fur and hanging out in the lonely woods, not in a crowded office moving numbers around for your boss.

Ugh, your fucking boss. It's getting harder to not listen to him talk without inadvertently thinking about what it'd feel like to rip his throat open with your teeth, and leave him as a warning for the others not to mess with the wolf...

Not that you'd ever do such a thing, of course... But those pills you're taking every morning have been waking up millions of years of instinct that are saying "this supposed leader is weak and ineffectual and doesn't deserve your loyalty. Kill him. Take his place, or his poor leadership will get you all killed when the winter comes."

You sigh, and keep typing on the keyboard. One day you'll come out to these anthrotypicals. You'll be recognized for the mighty wolf you are, and they'll stop treating you as just another human.

You make a note to email HR about that "I'm a human" CAPTCHA they put on the company's website. They don't know, of course, but they should be more considerate. Not everyone wearing a pantsuit and operating a boring Dell computer is a human, after all.

You glance at the clock and think about getting dinner once this slog is over. You'd been a vegetarian before starting your transition, but there's a new steakhouse that's opened up on your walk home, and every time you walk past it, you keep thinking about biting into a nice steak... Rare, of course. It's probably just the smell. You can smell so much better now, and from what you've heard from others, it's only going to get better.

Well, better is relative. You've learned the downside of having a better sense of smell. It's sometimes unbearable walking to work on Wednesday, when everyone has their bins out. So much rotting food and spoiled milk and bacteria festering in all those cans waiting for the trash trucks.

It gets better once you're in the office. The AC kills a lot of the smell. But now you can tell exactly how many days it has been since your coworkers have showered, and you'll never look at Simon from accounting the same way again.

And it was a bit of a faux pas (or should that be a faux paw, ha!) when you congratulated Cindy on the baby she was expecting... She hadn't told you yet. She hadn't told anyone yet, other than her spouse, but you forgot that it wasn't as obvious to everyone else.

You don't know how that can be overlooked (oversmelled?). The hormones are all different. Was there really a time in your life when you couldn't smell this? Huh. You can't remember anymore. This is your new normal. You've come farther than you think. You should have taken more pictures at the start, so you could compare them to now, but it was so hard to look at yourself then. You looked so... Human. Ugh.

It's getting easier to look at yourself in the mirror in the morning. Your fur is coming in. Your body is changing in so many ways. You're finally starting to look like you.

[patricia-taxxon]

sometimes i think im outgrowing my species dysphoria but then it all hits at once & im one bad night from just dropping thousands of dollars on a lengthy TF comic.

[patricia-taxxon]

stimming is like when you touch something hot & need to shake the heat outta you, except instead of heat/pain its the sensory experience of having a body

[patricia-taxxon]

tik tokkers saying "tic/stim warning" in their melanie martinez lipsyncs muddied the waters with this a bit, stimming is a voluntary action as often as it is unconscious, and everyone does it to some extent. autistic people claimed it because its mandatory for us, on a level beyond just fidgeting.

[patricia-taxxon]

try stimming, just for fun. shake a paw around, make some deep noises that resonate in your chest, chew on a rubber spatula (food grade silicone is safe for this purpose) etc. if it feels nice it could mean a lot of things, if it feels like a relief then it's at least cause to entertain the idea of being autistic. although don't base a self diagnosis on just this

[bite-my-grimy-fleshy-ass]

A cute guy likes me on a dating app. After chatting with them for weeks, we decide to go on a date. They are very flirtatious and forward over the app, but not when we meet in person. He admits he thought I was transmasc like him, we laugh about it because his mistake is funny and means I'm not passing but in a silly backwards way. I think his sudden awkwardness in person may be nervousness and flirt with him in ways less forward and aggressive than he'd been flirting with me earlier, and they become cold and distant for the rest of the date. By the time I get home they've blocked me on the app we met on. This case of being mistaken as a transmasc on a dating app will happen 3 more times, and in 2/3 times it results in a similar sudden lack of interest where once they were coming on to me. None of these people will be cis.

I am in a self defense class for queer people, learning hand to hand combat as a community. I have been here months. I notice I'm the only transfem in the classes but there are other trans people there so I don't think much of it. Today I have some stubble as I did not have time to shave before the early morning class. When discussing unrealistic action movie and anime fight scenes I describe on of my favorites, quoting the lines as I pantomime the goofy moves. They smile and laugh along until the word bitch leaves my lips in one quote, then the bisexual woman who only ever they/thems me glares at me like I've committed a grevious crime, and the rest of the class looks at me like a freak in awkward silence for a moment before moving on. I learn bitch is not a word a clocky bitch can "reclaim". I am quiet in classes now, and when I go I focus primarily on the training, when I see other trans women try it out they often give me a sad look and do not return for a second class. I get a sinking feeling that if I ever use this training to save my life one day I'd be branded a violent man instead of a strong woman.

I am texting with a good friend of years who was one of the people who helped me realize I was trans like them and even the one who helped pick out my name loves talking about our shared interests and sharing their favorite smut with me. We bond over favorite stories, artists, characters, and kinks as well as our trans experience. Yet they constantly tell me they could never date someone who's AMAB because of the trauma of being "female socialized" and their genital preferences for vulvas. Every compliment they have ever given me on my appearance or outfit is followed up by "but in a non-sexual way, I could never date you". Today I finally have the courage tell them they don't need to say that every time. They ignore this response. We keep talking for awhile, but they start taking months to respond to my messages and respond with a short sentence at most. They no longer share details about their life and shut me out when I ask or share details about mine, even the most mundane and chaste details. I stop talking to them. A birthday gift I bought them months before this falling out happened looms at me in my closet. I cannot use it as it doesn't fit me but can't bring myself to throw it away, just in case we reconcile one day. I feel pathetic for craving friendship with someone who sees me as "abuser-bodied", that so much of my early stages would've been impossible without their help. I feel a little more lost without them.

I am at a queer/trans/enby kink dance party with some friends. I am scantily clad and wearing a skirt and high heeled boots. I do not pass well so this space is one of the few places I feel safe and free dressing like this. It is packed with queer and trans people just like me engaged in delightful debauchery and wearing very little. The music hurts my ears but I'm happy to be here, I feel overstimulated but alive and authentic. I am approached by a beautiful stranger from across the dance floor, she is graceful and stylish, like some modern Galadriel clad in leather, white lace, and industrial piercings with impeccable voice training. She compliments my outfit, I compliment hers. She tells me I need to shave my armpits if I want to look like a real woman. My two friends stand up for me and yell at her. They assure me she was just being an asshole, that women were supposed to be hairy, but I can't help but notice how both of them have hairy armpits and yet the "advice" targeted me. The wide range of bodies that people here tonight find desirable on cis women don't seem to apply to the women like me. I am the only one of us that doesn't go home with a hookup at the end of the night. I realize now she likely spoke from experience. I am still hurt by her words, but realizing the kinds of experiences she must have had herself to feel her words were kind advice hurts far worse.

A local queer photographer who's work I follow is looking for women & non-binary models for a photoshoot. I have become comfortable with getting photos taken of me for the first time in my life since my egg cracked, and had a few small time modeling gigs under my belt. With something like this I could actually have the beginnings of a portfolio. I reach and am told that they are not looking for trans women models, "only women and AFABs". Getting the same line I get from agencies from an independent queer photographer repackaged in "woke" terminology stings. I see many queer and nonbinary models I looked up to take part in the shoot. I have to wonder if they knew that the photographer's definition of woman didn't include trans women, or if like me in my martial arts class they noticed no transfems were there but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there.

It is years ago and I am still an egg. I am with my partner of 4 years. I am exhausted after a long day. She asks me for sex in the voice that I know means saying no will hurt her. I learned from her long ago men have high and insatiable sex drives, therefore saying no meant I wanted to have sex, just not with her. So I say yes. The sex is painful and unsatisfying, and I simply do my best to thrust through the discomfort until she cums. I feel numb and hurt. She enjoys herself but seems sad I did not cum. I assure her I love her. When we hold eachother after my obligation has been met and I finally feel comfortable and safe. We begin talking. She talks about the trashy women she saw on the street today, describing their cringe outfits and ugly styles and bad hair. All the styles and clothes and hair I yearn to try myself in my deepest and most repressed desires. I change the subject and ask her about work and family. She asks if I'd still love her if she were a man and I say yes. She says she would still love me if I were a woman. Something in that statement feels like a lie. It is months later when we break up and I move out. Now that I am a woman I look back and know from our years together that if I were a woman then she'd hate the kind of woman I'd become. That if I were a woman she'd still have the same expectations of me as a man, that her refusal of sex equated an impersonal not being in the mood but my refusal of sex equated a cruel refusal of love.

A lesbian group begins organizing a queer woman's strip night event. A safe place for amateur performers to shine and women to perform and enjoy sexuality away from the male gaze. I see no transfems in the promotional material or leadership team, and I've learned not to think nothing of it just because there are other trans people there. I do not go.

I am talking with my therapist. They are trans too and an amazing therapist, often providing insights and advice only someone else with the lived experience of being trans can. I express distress and suicidal ideation at the fact I feel like I need to pass before I can dress the way I want. That until I get expensive hair removal procedures and FFS I can never feel safe and welcome presenting authentically. I lament how these things are expensive and may never be accessible to me. They tell me I need to deal with my "internalized transphobia", as if these feelings aren't a result of constant rejection and othering by external forces even within queer spaces. As if the scrap of womanhood others sometimes acknowledge in me does not rely on their perceptions of me.

There is a publication accepting works from trans people of all stripes to document trans experiences. It gets flamed for not having a single transfem as a contributor. The people behind it apologize profusely, they say didn't notice no transfems had sent work in and would do a sequel publication that was transfem-centric. I wonder if anyone had noticed there were no transfems but didn't think much of it because there were other trans people there. I think about the kinds of spaces I've seen like that, and the implications it has about how they treat transfems, and I am unsurprised no transfems submitted.

One of my closest friends for years is very supportive of me when I first begin crossdressing and experimenting with they/them pronouns. She gives me suggestions on cute clothes to wear and takes me shopping as well as asks for pictures. We had helped eachother discover we were both queer as young teens, come to terms with it, and navigate it in a hostile environment, so I have complete trust. We are close enough we are frequently asking eachother advice on serious life choices & relationships, sending nudes for critique + tips before sending them to our partners, and sharing our most secret and vulnerable moments. She often asks me for tips on getting her straight boyfriends into pegging and crossdressing that make me slightly uncomfortable but I don't mind, she is a loyal friend I would endure a great many discomforts for. I host a lunch for us one day, and come out to her as a trans woman. I tell her my new name, say I no longer use he/him pronouns, and thank her for her support on my journey thus far. She launches into a monologue about how by changing my name I am throwing away all our memories together and spitting in the face of my family. Taken aback by her sudden heel turn after being so supportive of me being nonbinary and GNC, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom to get a break and give her some time to process. When I am in the bathroom trying not to cry, she is on the phone. I overhear her misgendering me as she is talking about me being bisexual in a frightened voice. She sounds truly afraid that I intend to be sexually violent towards her. When I leave the bathroom and sit back down I pretend not to have heard. She gets off the phone, saying she was just chatting with her boyfriend. We talk a bit longer, she explains how "the surgery" is dangerous and experimental and she hopes I won't get it. I assure her I won't and do my best to change the subject and hope she comes around after some time to process things, hurt and shocked that what I saw as a natural shift in the path I was already on marked me as frightening in her eyes after knowing eachother for over a decade. That a fellow bisexual suddenly saw my bisexuality as dangerous now that I was asserting myself as a trans woman. I say goodbye to her, and she says goodbye to me using my deadname, I do not risk an argument to correct her. It is months after the meeting we have not seen eachother since and she has not responded to any messages I sent. After reflecting on her reaction further I decide that I don't really want to spend time with someone who thinks these things about me for my own safety and mental health, regardless of our history. A friend of 14 years who supported my queerness and transness gone the instant I crossed an intangible woman-shaped line that marked me as a predator and invader in her eyes.

I log online and day after day see trans women getting banned and harassed. Seeing baseless callout posts calling them groomers and abusers getting taken seriously by other queer and trans people. Seeing proof that deep down so many people I consider kindred spirits see me and people like me as worthy of intense scrutiny and policing to keep "the queer community" safe and united. The blocklist grows but everything stays the same. I treasure the people in my life who don't take part in this and would do anything for them, but it seems they get fewer each time.

I'm not making this post to seek sympathy, I am used to this kind of shit and far worse has happened to myself and others. I just make this to illustrate transmisogyny is not some "online-only" issue like people claim. Even if online issues weren't "real" (as healed is fond of saying, "online is real") this has tangible effects in the way trans women are treated offline as well. By communities, friends, partners, colleagues, systems, etc. That's why we talk about it.

So much of the discussions people have paint transmisogyny as some online oppression olympics maliciously trying to divide the community, smear transmascs, and "reinvent bioessentialism". That is not what it is about. Discussions about transmisogyny is about how we are treated for being what we are, and while related to transphobia and misogyny it is seperate because it often represents doors other trans people and women can walk through that transfems cannot. It has affected me in my most intimate moments when I was with other trans and queer people I felt safe around, and taught me that I need to carefully manage my persona and presentation at all times lest my authenticity be branded "male socialization". I am even terrified to express attraction to people who express attraction towards me because I'm so used to being treated like a predator upon reciprocating or being used and abandoned by people I trusted. I am terrified to be too excited about shared interests with friends lest I be too loud or talkative about it and branded with aggressive male socialization. So I make myself quiet and small, and shrink from the community and people I care about, and become more and more isolated.

Anyways, stop platforming anons who spread lies about trans women, stop hopping on TERF harassment campaigns because the trans gal they're smearing "gave you bad vibes", and maybe consider carefully if in your own life where you draw the line for a transfem's behavior is any different from where you'd draw the line for anyone who's not one.

[1percentcharge]

i know a lot of people mock when certain songs are overused on character playlists but I will never judge someone for putting bubblegum bitch on one. If you decided that your little tv guy is miss sugar pink liquor liquor lips who am I to say he’s not

[flowerbleedme]

Guy who transforms into a swarm of locusts when shaken vigorously: hey can you turn the music down it's resonating kind of hard and shaking the ground and I don't want to endanger anyone

DJ Loudmusic: SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THESE SICK JAMS! HERE'S MY NEXT SONG, "EPIC JUNGLE BEAT THAT GIVES LOCUSTS THE DESIRE TO KILL HUMAN BEINGS"

[prty-grrl]

I wanna get used to using tumblr! Would you all like it if I drew little creatures

[cherrypillowzz]

i drew this well over a year ago by now but people still love it and i do too

[prty-grrl]

okay but actually im so tired of the narrative that life cant be fun or enjoyable anymore once youre past 25. fuck that. have fun. relive youth. work through your trauma. give yourself the chance to live a WHOLE life. some of us didnt get the chance to.

[mossspond]

Approach trade, 2021

[ivy-kissobryos]

A Dithyramb of Epithets

I. Eubouleus, Lysios, Iatros O Dio of Good Counsel, who listens to the cries of my heart. You, of Release, who teaches me to know when to let go. Healer of spirit and mind, I devote and place my faith in you.

II. Bakcheios, Bromios, Omadios Bacchic Lord who leads orgies and revels. In your frenzied state, you are loud: like thunder, like your father, like the hooves of bulls and the roars of lions. Your lips are smeared with raw meat, raw flesh, everything raw and naked. You are the embodiment of ecstatic joy.

III. Enualios, Areios, Maenoles God of universal might who delights in swords and blood. I pick up my spear, and - like grapes into wine - transform wrath into strength. May our thyrsos be drenched in red. O Mad and Raging One, sate my hunger for power.

IV. Trigonos, Chthonius, Nyktelios You are Zagreus, dying-and-rising forevermore. You dwell below the Earth and in the Night, the unknown. Show me the mysteries of rebirth, the ways of the Living and Dead.

V. Oenops, Lenaeus, Kissobryos O beautiful wine-dark god, in your name the wine-press is sacred. Your juice is a door to ritual madness, to liberation and transcendence. Through the grapes I shake off my shackles of society. I am breathless when I see you bedecked in ivy.

VI. Melanaigis, Tragos, Dikaeros Clad in black goatskin, I see why some call you a Witching God, for you are the dark aegis of tragedy and goat-song. Upon your head are two horns, like halos: your Aither of overflowing wine a proof of your divinity.

VII. Kliromonos, Eleuthereus, Soter I call you my King, my Successor of Zeus. Whether Nysa or the reclaimed Tower of Kronos, I await your ascension to the throne. As you have delivered Hephaistos to Olympus, may you deliver me from the cycle of suffering. O Dionysos, I praise you as my savior.

[just--a-small--town-witch]

The old gods are not dead

I hear Athenas war cry in the shouts of protests,

fighting a war now closer to home,

I see her in the young women with picket signs

clenched tightly in their fists

Hera curses the names of the abusers

The ones who break families and marriages

Her voice heard in the wedding bells of young lovers

Poseidon now resides in a beach home

Going out every night to pick of trash left by the day

Shooting daggers at the drunk men letting their bottles be swept away

Demeter can be heard cursing the politicians refusing to believe in global warming

Names of scientists and studies on the tip of her tongue

She is found teaching young children how to grow their food at the community garden

Ares is found on the front lines of a different war, not fighting but protecting the innocent

Guiding classrooms of children away from gunfire,

His shield protecting the terrified

Apollo can be found at opens mics

Reciting his latest works

Or walking down the street in docs on his feet and a guitar on his back

He knows he’s the coolest

Artemis is seen on the streets

Her bow and arrow have long left her

Carrying nothing more than a knife and mace

She hunts a different kind of monster now

Hephaestus resides in a workshop at all hours of the night

Creating custom pieces for the right price and a warm smile

The hammer making him feel invincible

Aphrodite’s song is heard in the breathy kisses of teenagers

Shes found walking down the street, lips a blood red

Punching the men who dare disrespect her  

Hermes is seen with a smirk as he walks long well-traveled roads

Delivering the messages of those needing to be heard

Traveling, telling stories, and wearing out another pair of shoes

Dionysus’s voice heard only over the pounding bass in the bar

Keeping watch over young girls drinks

Dancing, partying and living as he throws another one back

Hades is seen weeping over the graves of those taken much to soon

Looking to his wife for comfort

He’s long lost his faith in humanity

Persephone found in the gardens beside her mother in the spring

Brushing off girl’s dirty knees and putting flower crowns on their heads

She can be seen holding onto hades as he mourns the loss of life

Hecate will be found running metaphysical shops

Bringing hope to powerful women wanting more

Selling potions, nobody thinks will work

And collecting graveyard dirt for a new spell

Zeus is watching over everyone

Watches Athena cry

Hera curse the men, he being one of them

Poseidon’s glares

Demeter’s harsh words

Ares raising his shield

Apollos singing

Artemis as she tracks a new beast

Watches Hephaestus work

Sees Aphrodite punch

Hears Hermes words

Sees hades weep

And Persephone plant and comfort her partner

And grins as Hecate keeps magic alive

The old gods are not dead

They are alive

And they are watching

- Sayali C.

[awesomeface-diedhorribly]

um *has fun*

[pixelartarchive]

In to the night city