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"It's not complicated, it's genocide"

"A man would shelter, if he could, in the nook behind this new plywood. The building, abandoned, the man is too. How I wish you'd imagined that it were you"

This probably isn't going to change people's minds, but sometimes it is easier to evoke sympathy for dogs than it is to evoke sympathy for trans folks.

Mon Mothma:

Jeff is the head editor at Atlantica Magazine, but he hasn’t been writing much. The Tromp administration is hard to get a beat on, throwing out so much absurdity that it feels like nothing even matters anymore. He wants a story that will make a difference, and it’s not as if those just fall into your lap. But when Jeff’s phone suddenly buzzes with a new text message, that’s exactly what happens. Now Jeff is privy to a chat thread of top-secret information from Tromp’s under-qualified, highly-ignorant inner circle, and it’s looking like a real story. It’s also looking like a total hunk. Soon enough, Jeff and the physical manifestation of this egregiously handled group text containing highly sensitive government information are locked in the heat of gay, erotic passion, and he’s about to pound out a story that he never could’ve imagined. This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on gay physically manifested leaked text action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, and living group chat love.

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