Lover of All Monsters

Me: i think more trailers should just have a director's obvious mental breakdown as part of it

I am begging the UK trans community and its allies to attend the Mass Lobby at Parliament on June 25th, 11am-4pm, organised by Trans Solidarity Alliance.

The new EHRC Code of Practice pushes trans people out of toilets, hospital wards, and community spaces. It normalises gender policing based on appearance and stereotypes. It becomes statutory guidance in the UK by the end of June.

Trans people are now legally their assigned gender at birth and must join gendered spaces accordingly, but if they are perceived as their lived gender, they can also be ejected from those spaces. The guidance says: either break the law, or don’t pass too well.

A mass lobby is where you invite your MP to discuss your concerns with you in-person. Ask your MP to:

Demand full parliamentary scrutiny, debate, and use their free vote on the EHRC Code of Practice.

Support any motions rejecting the EHRC guidance. As of June 4th, Labour MP Nadia Whittome has submitted a prayer motion - Early Day Motion 240.

Write to Bridget Phillipson, the Minister for Women and Equalities about our concerns

Your MP does not have to be an ally, they do not have to respond to your email for you to show up and greencard them (details below the cut.) What matters is that as many people as possible show up.

I cannot stress this enough: Showing up in person matters. It is much more effective than petitions, emails, and letters.

It is a horrible, stressful time, and I am so sorry if you're trans and live in the UK. But I was at last year's mass lobby and the line for greencarding alone stretched around the back gates. It was a record breaking mass lobby and made us impossible to ignore. Let's do even better this time. Details under the cut:

A prince is used as an egg sac by a dangerous ocean colony.

Claudia, the long-suffering personal guard of his highness, Prince Amrit, has to go and collect him when the idiot gets himself captured by a colony of merpeople that like to use humans and elves to store their eggs in.

Rated E, 4.6k. Trans M (post-top surgery and post-universe equivalent penile implant and ovary-to-teste conversion) filled with eggs offscreen by a colony of merpeople, and then forced birth and sadism from his bodyguard, a cis F warrior. Belly inflation, oviposition, forced birth, sadomasochism, power dynamics in reverse, body horror, etc.

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On my website - subscribers only, but subscription starts at $1.01 per year

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When Amrit had shown her the resource packet on these fucking things, she had been horrified just at reading the basic description of them. They were technically related to merpeople, although the commentary in the resource packet from other merfolk had said that they suspected them to be either insular or less socially advanced than other merfolk.

In this area, they called them the tarander: they formed raft-like colonies of algae that floated on sea currents, and they only came ashore to breed. The colonies typically had established breeding areas and would return to them on a regular cycle: other colonies formed their own egg sacs from the same algae they made their rafts from and put them in shallow waters where they would be warmed by the sun, or stored their sacs near geothermal vents to make use of their heat, or even came ashore to set their sacs in hot springs.

All of that was fine – Claudia wasn’t particularly interested in marine biology or magical zoology, but she could understand why such things were researched, even passionately researched.

Then she had turned the page, and read about how this subset of the tarander achieved warmth for their gestating young by capturing warm-blooded merfolk, or humans or elves or orcs, how they had developed a method of keeping these captured subjects not just alive, but fed and watered, whilst using them to store their eggs.

Whilst floating in their currents, the tarander would capture fish and squid and octopus, the larger colonies even capturing whales, and anaesthetise them, keep them alive whilst eating them alive. They’d figured out how to apply this process to breeding subjects, and at least didn’t fucking eat them, as a rule.

No one had ever studied the phenomenon up close, not with any scientific rigour – they had diary entries and reports from survivors of the process, a few sketches of how the breeding colony looked when in place, and most of all, there were sketches and diagrams of those who did not survive.

Who drowned.

Or starved.

Or ruptured.

“It’s not as if I’m going to volunteering to be a subject,” Amrit had said, “we’re going to disguise the tent, we’re just going to observe as they capture—”

So far we have:

Tier one: Slenderman

Tier two: Silas and Asterion

Tier three: Ahiga, Agak and Tohopka

Tier four: Dianthus and Minos

Doctor’s Accomplice.

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FtM Jester Reader x Cis Male Orc General (very excited for this for Gay Pride Month)

For years, you had been the King's Jester. Making him and the Queen laugh. Easing tense moments with laughter and tricks. Despite the King being known as a man who was hard to please, yet somehow, you had managed to on most occassions.

Except for when it came to what you said about him.

Like most jesters, you would mock and tease the King. It was kind of part of the gig. A way to make social commentary without, you know, getting beheaded or drawn and quartered. However, the King hated that aspect of jestering, and on more than one occasion, had punished you for such acts, but you couldn't drop it. It was part of your job, after all. You couldn't disappoint the rest of the audience, and the King would never kill you for it, though you suspected he wanted to. No, that would look bad on him if he was to kill a jester for jestering. Like he was a weak man that couldn't handle a bit of teasing (which he was).

All that being said, you had begun to be more careful with your mockery of him, because you had a secret that could land you in a place worse than the dungeon. You were transgender, or as the King would call it, a woman "masquerading" as a man. Who knew what kind of torture you would be put through to "be taught a woman's place". So, over the years, you had begun to wind down your jokes of the King somewhat. Never stopping them, though.

"Jester, come amuse me," the King called.

With your jingling hat and jingling boots, you made your way to in front of his throne. To his side, to your surprise, stood an Orc. You hadn't seen many Orcs up close, not since the Great Orc War. Yet, here stood a burly Orc, covered in scars and burns. He looked like he could crush you in one of his bare hands. You were lucky to have a smile painted upon your face, because the smile on your lips faltered. Why was he here? Worst of all, you were afraid that he would smell the blood on you from your time of the month. Would he out you to your King?

"This is my guest, a General from the North," the King mused, gesturing to the Orc. "Amuse us."

Shakily, you nodded, beginning to juggle. The Orc's eyes followed every one of your movements with such an intensity that you felt your stomach churn. Why was he looking at you like that? He had to smell the blood. It made you sick to your stomach.

"You seem off today, Jester. You're dismissed," the King scoffed, waving his hand at you.

"As you wish, My King," you said, bowing lowly. The bells of your hat scraping the floor.

"I find myself amused by the little jingling man," the Orc said, finally speaking. The depth of his voice made you tremble to your core. "Might he perform a little more?"

"If you find him so entertaining, I suppose. He's not entirely dull," your King agreed, lazing back against his throne, flicking his hand as a gesture for you to continue.

"Of course, My King. I'm glad that your guest finds me amusing," you said, your eyes darting to the Orc. He knew. You could tell, but the way he was looking at you... you also knew that he wouldn't tell.