Tyler Richard Thorp / Morgan Thorp - Whiny Homeless Tranny Who Blames Kiwis for Terra Jones's Pedo Reputation

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Hmmm, what does this mean? I don't know what "the six that cost me", but it doesn't sound autism related?
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Even his sister doesn't believe his shit
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Even his mom thinks he's a mentally unstable loser
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His friends list, though hidden, is part of the Tranny Rat King. Stephanie Weil is an autistic engineer who works for radio stations and, of course, is friends with Phil, Jessica, and Jordan.
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Miranda Brooks Rain, aka Miranda Brooks Raven, aka William Radik, is friends with Chloe Sagal and one of the numerous people Rani Bakr "dates".
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I haven't forgotten about Thorp. He did react to the Alison Rapp controversy by retweeting you guessed it, Sarah Nyberg.

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Morgan reacts to the thread about Geena Phillips, says we originally coordinated Chris-Chan trolling/drama, and also revives her own thread because lololol.

Hi Morgan! :julay:
 
chimpburgers said:
Continuing off from the OP.

Some miscellaneous shit about his drivers license and where he posts it.

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Bitching about hormones.

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He likes Todd in the Shadows and we know that he's white knighted for Sarah Nyberg before.

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He even has an art twitter account in addition to his regular one and also goes under the alias Andrea Morgan. I haven't looked through this one yet but I'm sure there's a lot to be found here too. The Facebook itself had so much to cover.

https://twitter.com/buckybone
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He has such a flat, boring way of talking. Every sentence he types feels like a conversation-ender. Incidentally I've known several men in my life who talk this way, and they're all total creeps.

Actually fuck. I'm reading more of his little facebook posts now. I have an ex friend who was outed as being an abusive boyfriend to every person he dated in college, also raped one of them. He is also an AGP troon and he and Tyler both talk EXACTLY the same way. Like you could show me these posts and just change the name so it looks like the friend wrote them, I'd never suspect.
 
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Guro Vidaro-san said:
He has such a flat, boring way of talking. Every sentence he types feels like a conversation-ender. Incidentally I've known several men in my life who talk this way, and they're all total creeps.
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I know why
:autism:
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I'm not even familiar with this person's antics, but just from the facial expression, you can tell.
 
There's something else odd about this one, supposedly MtF yet chooses an unisex name. There's something fishy here given how most trans women and even troons will change their name to something more feminine than Morgan.
 
Morgan wrote a letter to her ex via Medium, who she dated for 6 months in 2017. Some highlights include being triggered by The McElroy Brothers and calling a kitten a demon.
Archive
A Letter I Needed to Write

Heya.* It’s me, the person you dated for six months and then tossed aside right after I moved in with you, after all the promises you made about helping me to get back on my feet and all the talk of moving to Milwaukee or maybe California…considering who my father (and Prime Abuser) was and the kinds of promises that he used to make, goddamn I should’ve known better. I suppose that not knowing better is kind of a thing in my family, I really never should’ve let my guard down after my sister ended up marrying someone who was basically our dad, four years after she was slammed against a wall and choked out by the “man” who she would eventually marry (I told her at the time that she needed to move on, but she was back with him within three months).

I should’ve known better…I should’ve been trying to get out the moment that you brought a third cat home (which the witchy part of me considers to be a literal demon) without asking or even telling me, to an apartment that was too small for two of them, when you couldn’t even keep the litterbox from overflowing with the shit from the cats you already had. I tried to help where I could…but by the time you brought that third cat into the picture last August, my mental state was fragile enough that it took all of two weeks with the demon kitten before I literally had to go to Minneapolis for three days to be able to recharge at all (and that’s even considering that the trip began with me dragging my suitcase between a load of O’Hare parking lots, and included the second-worst hangover of the year on that Sunday)…I still owe money to a friend for that trip, would’ve paid her months ago if I hadn’t been too psychologically exhausted to even look for work for most of the time since. The happiest day I had that year was the day the kitten escaped…the fact that it happened because you left the door open when you were carrying things to your storage unit (or the dumpster, doesn’t matter much at this point) while I was asleep was just the cherry on top of all of it.

I spent what would’ve been our anniversary (also the day that I consider to be the anniversary of when my creative spark** finally lit up when I was 13 years old, 13 years before the party where we met and bonded over having lived in Whitewater at the same time) alone…and then I spent my birthday alone, Thanksgiving with other friends (you were off somewhere else), Christmas Eve alone, Christmas Day alone until a couple of friends invited me along as a third wheel when they went to see The Shape of Water (you promised that we’d go to The Last Jedi together, should’ve known better than to believe anything you ever promised), New Year’s with other friends (once again, you were off somewhere else), and after all of that I thought that we could still salvage something…and then you gave me 6 weeks to move out in January, when you would’ve fucking known if you ever had a thought in your head that wasn’t “What’s going to make me feel good at this exact moment?” that it would take longer than that to find work and scrape up enough money for a security deposit, but my survival was apparently less important than having the apartment available for your current primary girlfriend to come over whenever she wants. (I literally never had a problem with being sexiled, you just never asked because you got so scared the one time you cared about my boundaries — which you didn’t even cross that night — that you never brought up sex stuff again.)

So, here we are. Don’t even think we can be friends after the damage you’ve done over the last year (probably longer, considering that I never saw a bedbug in my life until I picked one off your chest the one time we made out on the couch that I was sleeping on at the time (December 2016), and the fact that I ended up losing that couch to bedbugs and fighting them straight through the move into your apartment until the day the demon escaped while you were cleaning for the exterminator, I still think I feel those fuckers crawling on me half the time), and especially after damn near killing me from stress last month when you finally stopped even pretending to care about my boundaries or whether I got any sleep at all, blasting that goddamn Polygon playlist as loud as your laptop speakers would go until 5am or even later — congratulations, you’ve turned goddamn McElroy Brothers content into a trauma trigger for me, I hope you’re fucking happy — and nothing made me happier than taking my TV and router to my storage locker, after you blew all of your savings on a PS4 right before Christmas (if you thought I was letting you keep anything that I brought there or bought while I was there, you really are living in the same alternate reality that my dad lived in).

Don’t try to find where I’m staying now, I’ve given that information to a small number of people who I trust to not spread it around to anyone who might get it back to you, and I won’t be giving it to anyone else…if you do show up here or at the groups you’ve been to with me, I have the screenshots of your bullshit, I have pictures of the litterbox and the sink from the day before I moved into the new place (where I finally have my own place to sleep, another thing you promised me in those early days, before living near the Red Line for easy access to your main girlfriend — I am literally never doing a poly relationship again, only takes one person who sucks at communicating to blow it all apart — became more important than a place that you could actually afford (which would’ve been easy, if you’d looked a little bit west of where you work)), and I will post them everywhere***…and then I’ll bring hard power into the situation, because showing up at your ex’s home without her permission after you’ve abused her and manipulated her into being afraid for her life (and, by that last weekend, being ready to buy a bus ticket to go to her hometown and end it) is literally the situation that restraining orders were made for. By March 15 (the day I packed my seabag full of clothes and took it to my new place), I was on record with multiple nonprofits, a mental health provider, and multiple government agencies (city, county, maybe state, definitely at least one federal) as attempting to get out of an abusive living situation, and I’m pretty sure that even you can recognize that attaching your legal name to that really isn’t a good idea…you had far too much power over my life for far too long, and that’s finally over.****

After all of that, and after you’ve used up and thrown away your last few friends like you did to me, you’ll have the same choice that my dad did: between curling up and letting yourself die like he did, or maybe, finally, growing the fuck up…if you do go down the latter road, maybe all of this will have a purpose. As for me…well, I’m going to do everything I can to move on with my life, now that I’m in a living situation where that’s currently possible, and now that I’ve said pretty much everything I’ve ever needed to say about you.

Fuck off forever,

Morgan Andrea Thorp

1900, 3 April 2018

*I would’ve actually written this out with a lot less thought behind it and left it on your now-empty TV table when I brought the keys back, but that just happened to be the one Saturday night that you weren’t at work, so you get this instead. At least, you would, if I hadn’t blocked you on social media to protect myself.

**A general Rule To Live By for future reference, you really never want to fuck over a writer, loads of them literally get paid to write about revenge…the kinds you especially never want to fuck over are fantasy writers and songwriters, and guess what I used to write before your bullshit shut down that part of my brain for a year?

***Hell, I might post the pictures anyways if one of a couple of your closest friends shows up here, I haven’t decided yet.

****Alright, I suppose this letter has gone into “revenge fantasy” territory, but goddammit after the year I’ve had, I’ve earned it!

Morgan is absolutely fucking broke right now, anything you can throw at her GoFundMe or her Squarecash will go towards keeping any kind of access to public transportation and a flip phone for her until she can afford a bike.

Her ex, Desiree Swann finds out about the letter and responds the next day. Desiree notes Morgan had infested the apartment with bed bugs and spent the entire time playing Hearthstone instead of looking for a job.
Archive
Content warning: Suicide mention, alcohol mention...

Just over a year and a half ago, I met someone at a party. We were both drunk, but were excited to bond and relate over the fact that we both attended a small-town university in Whitewater, Wisconsin. A short while later, we started dating, and then when I moved to a new studio apartment, I offered her space to get back on her feet and get her life back together. These were mistakes, and I’ve spent over a year learning that.

So I didn’t want to post this. After everything that happened, I was angry and hurt, but ultimately was okay with leaving it at that. If this person wanted to vanish from my life, she was more than welcome to, I had no interest in pursuing contact with her, or even mentioning her again aside from pointing out the painful life-lessons I learned from living with her. Despite everything, I still wanted her to find her feet, get a job, and get to a better position in her own life, because no one deserves to live that way… I just wanted her to do that far away from me because living with her had rapidly become toxic. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be, she posted a good-sized letter that contained a number of hurtful claims about me, as well as making several threats against me and people I love.

Because of this, I now feel it’s necessary to make a semi-public account of certain events over the past year, to both make sure my loved ones and I are okay, and also because now I genuinely worry about anyone else she lives with and don’t want anyone else to fall into the same situation I did.

At the beginning of March, 2017, I offered someone space in the studio apartment I had just started renting, with the stated aim of providing them breathing space until they could find their feet, get a job for the first time in over a year, and get to the point where they could get a better place for themselves. At the time, they were living on a couch in a hallway/stairwell at a house with several other mutual friends. They were also dealing with a nasty bedbug problem, this would be pertinent later.

For the first couple of days at my apartment before they actually arrived, I was very happy. This was the first place I had ever had to myself, was responsible for paying for myself, and I was enjoying that. Then she moved in. Things were… crowded, from the start. It was a pretty small studio apartment, basically a single room with a kitchenette off one side at a bathroom off the other. I had effectively no personal space, she fared a little better as I worked 40-60 hours a week and she was jobless, so she had a fair bit of time on her own. I made copies of most of the keys. Unfortunately the building-keys were a type that could not be inexpensively copied, and since I was the only one between us with a working phone, I decided she could have that key, and I would just ring myself in with my phone every time I came home.

She had an allergy to cats, I had two of my own, and it was known well beforehand that I would not be giving them up. To cover some of the difference, I provided benadryl, about the most I could effectively do under the circumstances. Otherwise, the only thing she had to cover was her own food. I covered the entirety of rent, utilities, internet, and laundry money for the pay-machines downstairs. I also covered a lot of money for her use of public transit, and over the time I knew her, made several hundred dollars in donations to her gofundme to get her back on her feet.

A couple weeks into her stay with me, she moved the rest of her possessions into my apartment, the aforementioned tiny studio apartment. I realized at that time she may have something of a hoarding problem, as she brought in about two dozen large boxes’ worth of stuff, most of which I never saw. These were in dusty plastic containers held shut with duct tape, dinged up cardboard boxes, and in several cases just floating loose or in old beer cases. There was effectively no walking space in my apartment now. I told her this had to be a temporary thing, and that she would need to either find a place to store most of this, or sort through it and get rid of anything unnecessary so that we actually had space to live in this apartment. She assured me she would. That never happened.

Shortly after she placed all her stuff in my apartment, the bedbugs happened. As mentioned before, she had been dealing with a nasty bedbug infestation at her own place before she moved over, and apparently some of them had hitched a ride with her. There was several hellish months of dealing with this, including worries that I had spread the infestation to other people close to me.

I ended up tossing most of my own possessions and clothing due to the risk of them being infested, including my only mattress, we were living on an inflatable mattress from that point forward. Eventually the landlords had to get involved, and a full extermination and followup of my apartment had to be done. I facilitated this by myself, including managing the cats outside the apartment for several days, and covering up the fact that there was someone in the apartment not under the lease.

During all this, I had to do something about the massive pile of her stuff occupying a majority of the space in my apartment. The landlord seeing this would be a quick recipe to getting me kicked out, and we would both end up homeless. I ended up renting a storage unit for her, covering the entirety of that myself, and moving a majority of her stuff and a little of mine in there. My apartment was again minimally maintained, and my bills jumped up by another one hundred dollars a month.

About six months into her stay at my place, I finally sat her down and explained that we could not continue living this way. That she needed to find alternate living arrangements. That the storage unit was a temporary stopgap and not something I could afford to keep up indefinitely. And that I didn’t want to because us living together in such a cramped space was psychologically unhealthy, rapidly translating to physically unhealthy. She agreed.

For the next six months… she made no progress to getting a job, or finding her own place. She did spend a lot of time playing Hearthstone both while I was at work to solely fund our living situation, and when I was at home. She also had a habit of getting very angry at me whenever I touched or moved her stuff around, or whenever there was any interruption to the internet service I was paying for. I was spending as much time as I could at friends’ places, as any time I spent in my own apartment was leading me into further depression, not to mention I noticed I had started drinking more often.

In early January, I asked her if she had made any progress in finding a new living situation. After the six-month sit-down, I hadn’t pressed her too much about it as I didn’t want her to feel pressured and completely shut down in response. I had decided to give her through christmas to take care of things without additional reminders/pressure from me. She said she hadn’t made any progress. At that point I gave an actual deadline for her to get out: At the end of February, when my lease on this place was renewed, and again mostly left her to it, though without much hope on my end.

The end of February came and passed with no word from her regarding the living situation. I finally asked her about it and she said she had not made any progress. I asked her why she couldn’t tell me that before the deadline, why she was willing to let it go by without even informing the person who was giving her a place to stay that she needed more time. She didn’t have an answer. At that point I issued an ultimatum: She needed to be out within a week, I was ending my rent with the storage unit and all her stuff would be removed from there. I would be transporting my own stuff back into my apartment, and moving out the pile of things she had re-formed in here to make room for myself and my possessions.

She threatened me with suicide. When I held my ground, she demanded I keep to my promise to help her find her own feet. When I pointed out I had, for over a year, and there was no progress on her end, she said she was dealing with problems I couldn’t even imagine and I needed to show her extra consideration for it. When I said that if her problems were truly that bad, she needed professional help that I could not provide, she finally started looking for alternate living arrangements.

In the end, I even allowed her past that final one-week ultimatum. I paid for one more month on the storage unit, then transported most of her remaining stuff there by myself. I told her she now had one more month to figure out what to do with her stuff in my storage, rather than my original ultimatum that it would end up in the back alley by the dumpster. At that point, she suddenly had the ability to start renting her own storage unit and slowly moved all her stuff there. By mid/late March, she finally removed the last of her stuff from my apartment, and returned my keys to me.

I was hoping it was over then. Assuming rent/internet should have been evenly split between us, and the storage unit was solely to facilitate her hoarding tendencies, I had spent around six thousand dollars to provide space, warmth, a roof over her head, for her to spend pretty much all of it playing Hearthstone. I didn’t expect to see any of that money back. I didn’t really want to have any interaction with her ever again in my life. I still hoped that she would find a job and get to a better position in her own life, I just wanted to have nothing to do with her any more. I was willing to let everything that happened between us remain just between us and the few close confidants I had heavily leaned on for mental stability during our year together.

Then, on April 3rd, 2018, she publicly posted an angry letter directed at me. Containing (somewhat incoherent) threats against me and people close to me, including apparently releasing our names and information to police for… some reason, I still can’t figure out what, and release photos of the admittedly filthy living space we shared while I was drinking, depressed, and letting basic cleanliness slide.

Because of that, I made the decision to put this all together. Both because I want to protect myself and the people I love, and because I now feel she is more than just toxic to me, and that if she’s willing to do this to me, she may attempt to do so with other people in the future, and I have an obligation to at least put out a personal account to warn other people. I have so far not included any actual names because, so far, she hasn’t, even in her public rants. Mutuals between us can see both accounts, choose who to believe, and if it ends up I lose friends over this, I can accept that. Anyone else who is concerned can message me and I can release names based on who I trust, and who I feel may be at risk from all this.
 
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