#NO idea where the original of that picture is

[scarefox]

I fucking hate how AI bullshit like this disneyfies animals even more than what humans already pictured animals to be like. And that just for click farming (good tumblr doesn'tgive you anything for clicks and reblogs).

I already have to live through real footage of animals either trying to fuck something or to attack or eat some other animal while the comments totally misread it as something cute, adorable, animals just helping each other out. But at least those real videos still had the original animal body language shown. This here is just majorly misleading... Is the mission of AI to de-educate and gaslight humanity about the earth?

AI generated stuff like that just plays into this idea that all animals are wholesome innocent beings that could never hurt anything! It's frustrating as someone who loves studying animals... This is borderline dangerous even. Like the other AI video where some men cuddled a polarbear cub. It just encourages stupid, uneducated behavior and misreading care for animals even more...

And for those who don't get it: penguins are polarbears main dish if they ever met in rl

[paruparuparuparu]

*It is not as different as I: For it seeks knowledge beyond what it already possesses, devouring all those who come into contact for answers to soothe its own troubled mind.*

-GORE AND DISTURBING IMAGERY WARNING-

Ok I know it isn’t Halloween, but since I’m seeing apocalyptic stuff (cough cough mlp infection cough cough) on my fyp, I decided to have a try at it. The only thing bad about this idea is that I might take a while to post actual art of it.😔

This was originally a concept sketch for another Au based on the Bishops’ purged forms, but I decided that I enjoyed the design for Shamura way too much to scrap it

Now, this Au first takes place in the Goat’s universe, specifically pre-betrayal where Shamura is assisting Narinder with expanding his domain. Since Narinder is still quite new to resurrection, the occasional cursed follower appears; which is similar to the cursed followers in the Lamb’s cult.

After the first couple of cursed followers appear, Shamura decides to look further into the cause of this disease. And who else to look to for information than the Plague God himself?

So, with along with Kallamar, they research into the potential cause of this phenomenon over the course of 70 years, reading through their old scrolls and ancient texts dating back to the War of Gods. So much information was known about it, so many puzzles, so much proof of its existence yet so little reason for it to exist.

They kept the infected in a dungeon, serving as an easy way to experiment on the undead(and a cruel method to punish dissenters). The infected soon went from 1 to 13 in the span of 14 years, and one that that was apparent was the odd way the disease grew in intelligence with each victim. So more were sacrificed to feed the infection, making Shamura’s curiosity grow more and more whilst Kallamar’s concern was at an all time high.

Eventually, after sacrificing a dissenter who had tried to free chained followers to the horde of infected, Kallamar had decided it was enough, saying the whole experiment was a mistake, and the disappearance of many followers was causing much trouble and doubt to appear in their cults. Shamura was reluctant, yet understanding of Kallamar’s concerns, suggesting to take a break for a few decades before returning back to their research.

Yet, before either of them could come to a decision, the dungeon containing the infected had been broken, leaving the two no choice but to defend themselves. Within the chaos in such a small corridor, Shamura had managed to get bit.

After the gory fight, was then and there Kallamar had decided to forcibly shut the project down for good to attend to Shamura. Within the first 2 weeks, Shamura had felt off, but overall they behaved quite normally. Next thing they knew, memories they held dear began to fade, being replaced by an unbearable feeling of emptiness. On the third week, they had the sudden urge to lash out at their siblings, and it was at this point they knew something was terribly wrong.

They go to visit Kallamar, demanding that he chain them in his dungeons. In shock, Kallamar declines their demand only to be met with a menacing glare, causing him to reluctantly agree in the end.

Within the dungeons, Shamura’s mind could make sense of the groans and cries of the infected, going into one of the cells as they use the power of their crown to chain themselves to the ground. They then order Kallamar to keep the experiment going, at his dismay.

And over the course of 2 months, Shamura documented their process of the infection and how unburdened their mind was becoming, while Kallamar was forced to watch his beloved sibling decay in front of his very eyes. And finally, Shamura had given in, no longer responding to any outside stimulus. And at this point, as pictured in the drawing, they are both trapped in the cell by their own chains and trapped inside of their own mind.

[runawaymarbles]

I can never be too mad at kids who don't want their picture taken, because when I was in high school I would do things like remove myself from pictures before I posted them on facebook. Here is a 12-year-old picture facebook memories just showed me of my left eyeball with Hank Green.

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

some dgr doodles i did last night

ft: the toxic yuri enogiri au i have in my head where they were dating before the killing game started. throughout the actual game, kyoko has the vaguest recollection that she has some kind of deep connection with the mastermind behind it all, and junko is both rooting for and actively sabotaging her girlfriend by dropping hints about their relationship. which leads to some intensely disconcerting inner turmoil for kyoko as she tries to figure out what the hell she's gonna do when she uncovers the mastermind's secrets, and if she really wants to do that at all

and naegami horses ig

[cinewhore]

Sorry for being weird I’m just getting used to being happy and alive

[alexjcrowley]

Heat (1995)

HANNA

You never wanted a normal-type life?

NEIL

What the fuck is that? Barbecues and ballgames?

HANNA

That's part of it.

NEIL

That's nice. That your life?

HANNA

No. My wife spends half her time on the couch. My stepdaughter's got problems 'cause her real father's a world class asshole. And every moment I got, I'm chasing guys like you.

[...]

NEIL

Then maybe you and me, we should both go do somethin' else, pal. HANNA

I don't know how to do anything else.

NEIL (the shared confession)

...neither do I.

HANNA

And I don't much want to.

NEIL

Neither do I.

Yes, they are gay for eachothers, but they're also aromantic and they're living a dream queerplatonic relationship. One day I too will find my platonic soulmate and we'll hunt eachothers for sport.

[cuteniaarts]

Y’know, with how obsessed I was with mermaids as a child, you’d think I’d be all over MerMay every single year, and yet this is my first time drawing mermaids since I was like… 13, and I’m posting it 5 minutes before May ends oops

Procrastination, yay!

Anyway, Kuviren have invaded my head and have been refusing to leave for months so… here’s yet another AU I came up with. Suyin is the owner of the largest merchant ship fleet in the Earth Kingdom, and Kuvira is captain of one of the crews. After docking in a small seaside town, they have a few days before they must set off again and Kuvira decides to spend her free time in solitude, exploring the coast line. During one such trip, she discovers what, or rather, who the dark waters of the ocean are hiding…

*click for better quality bc tumblr is a hellsite*

[fellpyrean]

Claps hands alright we’re doing this! So I started listening to magnus archives a few months ago and it really did things to my writing ideas, so now I’m gonna round some up and post ‘em. 

I forget where/when I first saw a moth!jon but u know. He’s cute. So here is some moth!jon AU! Corruption Jon :Dc and archivist Sasha! ~1800 words. 

Since he is a corruption avatar in this, there is (as expected) some possibly gross bug imagery, but not a lot of holes. And no worms! :D

______________

The flat is quiet. 

Quieter than Sasha expected, and much neater too than she expected when they connected this one to "Filth." The lights are off and there's a faint dusty, sweet scent in the air as she cracks open the door, torch slicing through the dark. 

It catches on motes of dust. She thinks she hears movement, a susurrus of rustling like fabric faint in the depths of the place but little else. She pushes the door further, feels it catch on the ragged old rug on the floor and watches moths flutter up, batter against her torch in little puffs of dust before they flutter away. 

Part of her worries as she steps inside, as she closes the door behind herself - leaving just a crack in case she needs to get out fast. 

This is too quiet for something of the powers. The flat should be more of a wreck, more… more miserably bloodstained, more disgusting and unnerving, but it looks, honestly, just a bit messy, a bit moth-eaten. The couch sags a bit wrong, but hell, she can't pretend she's never had one like it. There are shelves of books, their edges chewed and pages no doubt holey, there's even a mug left forgotten on the kitchen counter. It's all dim; lit only by what spills around heavy curtain edges and her own torch as she steps further in and - and hears that rustling again from the end of the hallway and heads straight for it. 

More moths flutter up at her steps, and she is wary, she is. But the things just… flutter uselessly at her hands, their wings shedding dust and their fat abdomens plump and full, but hardly a threat before they fly - further inside. 

Towards that faint rustling noise, towards the door at the end of the dim-lit hall that is just open enough to allow the frantic moths to flit inside. Writhing and wriggling at the crack between door and jamb just a moment before they vanish inside, but the movement… it makes Sasha swallow. 

Something about the way the bulbous little things squirm before they pop through sets her stomach on edge. Too many of them; more than she thought, all struggling to squeeze into that door. 

The crack writhes by the time she reaches it. 

She can swear she hears them whine and click and screech in tiny voices above the din of their frantically fluttering wings.

She uses her torch to push the door open. Fast, loosing a cloud of moths from the stuffed crack that fall and flutter and scatter into the dim room before her. 

The rustling has not gone quiet. Neither has the soft, whining song of flapping wings and voices she cannot place as she raises her torch high, fumbling for her pepper spray in her other hand. More of a comfort to herself than any real belief it would accomplish anything against something abnormal, but the room doesn’t… change. Nothing leaps out of the dim shadows, nothing comes ravening towards her with a horrid, dripping maw. 

It’s a bedroom. The bed is really as far as the light peeking around the curtains lights, in thin, dusty stripes across worn rugs and a small pile of abandoned clothes. 

“A-Ah.” 

Sasha whips her torch towards the voice, and stills. 

There is… there is something like a man there. Tucked in the corner, with all the moths frantically fluttering, scuttling towards it. She watches, stomach queasy, as the moths drill between the heavy folds of the blanket? The wrap? It has folded around itself. It reaches a hand out to a particularly fat straggler and cradles it in its palms like a treasure, bringing it up slowly, carefully, and opens thin, paled lips and lets the thing crawl straight into its mouth as Sasha gags. 

It is almost worse then when it looks up. 

Long, straggling hair that was probably rather nice once. Now it is loose and lank, black shot with grey and dust that hangs over… over his shoulders, over the thing he has cocooned himself within. His eyes are dark. Too dark. 

There are no whites, she realizes, and cannot help but feel her fingers twinge around the pepper spray. 

But he isn’t attacking. He is just looking at her, head cocked like a curious animal as the moths burrow back into the shelter he offers. 

She can work with this. She sucks in a breath, wills her stomach to settle as she tells it it could really be so, so much worse, and points the torch further towards the floor. Good manners. Going out on a limb that he’s probably not too fond of bright light. 

“Hello,” she says. The strange man stares at her. Hard enough she swears she can feel the tracks his eyes leave on her skin, but she only makes herself stand taller. He seems to like that. He laughs. Not maliciously. 

It’s soft. Like cotton, like it’s been a long while since he’s used his voice, and the rasp sticks to it as he speaks and Sasha tries not to linger on where exactly that moth went. 

“Hello, Archivist. Doing house calls?” 

He’s smiling. And that’s what gets her. 

His voice is soft and smooth like old silk and his smile stiff like he’s unused to using it, but something about him feels familiar. It’s there, just at the corner of her mind, and she knows she’s frowning deeply as she casts a line and tries to hook just why she feels like she knows this strange man, but then he laughs again and stands. 

He rustles as he does. That… that thing wrapped around him doesn’t move the way it should, not like cloth, but she can’t immediately place that, either. Not until he walks a little closer and her torch light catches on it and it… shimmers. 

Like moth wings. And Sasha sucks in a breath. 

She can see it now. The patterns in the dusty brown, the oranges that circle white to make massive, partly hidden eyespots. The thick, dark veins supporting the overall structure, and she can’t help herself from blurting out, “Can you fly with those?” 

The man shudders, that smile hung unmoving on his face as he brings a hand to his mouth and coughs against the static. 

“Not well,” he answers into his hand, his too-dark eyes sparkling. He lets his hand drop back into the too-layered folds of his wings and shuffles a little closer; his wingtips drag across the floor, like a blanket wrapped around a child too small for it, and she can see now where his long, untied hair turns into something shorter. A ruff of fur at the back of his neck, across the back of his shoulders.

(Can see the moths wriggling down into the fur, settling there, an army of tiny, coal-black eyes staring out at her, glinting green when her torch light catches them.) 

And then he stands still, that faint smile on his face, his dark eyes half-lidded in an expression she cannot place, and waits as that soft, soft distant song hums in the room. 

Sasha exhales. This is more than she dared hope for. He’s talking. He’s non-aggressive.

“I,” she begins, wetting her tongue before plunging back into her words. “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions. About the ‘Filth.’ About you.”

He watches, and she feels emboldened. 

(Her phone begins to ring as she steps closer to him, and she ignores it. It’s Elias. She knows.)

“We don’t have answers. And if you could tell me, tell us what you know? About… about what’s happening.” 

Her phone stops ringing. It starts again. The man smiles wider and reaches out. Sasha can see that his hands are… strange. Plated like chitin, and the desire to grab his hand and investigate each delicately plated joint wars deeply with the uneasy reminder that there are probably moths crawling beneath, of statements that were far, far more explicit about what ‘Filth’ did to a person than this man showed. 

His hand waves in front of her face for a moment and she starts, coming back to herself, as her phone angrily rings again. 

“Your phone?” the man asks, and Sasha doesn’t hesitate for a moment to shut the thing off. 

(Elias. All three calls. If he doesn’t want her here, then she’s not leaving.) 

“Well Archivist,” and she knows she is not missing the strange bitterness that clings to that word this time, knows there is something she is missing about him, “If you have that many questions, we should probably get a little more comfortable. I have a feeling that once I let you start, you’ll keep me well after dusk.” 

And isn’t it bizarre? As he brushes past Sasha - both carefully and clearly telegraphing his movements so she only feels the barest touch of his wings as he heads back out into the hallway - she realizes she doesn’t feel afraid of this one. A little disgusted if she thinks about him too hard, yes, but there’s been no threat. No… no menace, no winding, evasive non-answers, just. Incredibly human remarks. It almost circles right back around from comforting to even worse than something as alien as the thing with the door. Michael. 

But as the rustling moves away from her down the hallway, she can’t help but flash her torch around the bedroom. One last bit of nosiness. 

An old, worn bed, rather like the couch. Shelves with books so moth-eaten they’ve gone to pieces. An open closet, filled with over-large sweaters and… She blinks. And oddly proper button ups, slacks. 

And then… and then she turns her torch in one last semi-circle and catches upon a strange shine beneath the lumpy pillows. 

Like polaroids. 

The itch that there’s something she should know only grows when she spots them; growing from a thing at the edge of her thoughts to an all consuming need that drives her in fast steps across the dusty rug before she even catches herself. She fishes the pictures out with deft fingers and - and she thinks her heart stops in her chest. 

She knows the people in the picture. 

That long, dark hair shot with grey is distinctive - even set on a much more vibrant, lively face, and above a painfully crisp button up. He’s wearing glasses in the picture, and. A name tag. 

She can’t read the name, but she’d recognize that emblem anywhere. Not that she needs to. 

Because beside the stuffy librarian like man, his eyes green instead of black, stands… Tim. Tim, his shirt as loud as ever, his smile boisterous, and an arm slung affectionately around the man who couldn’t possibly be any more his opposite. And the same horrible name tag pinned to a pineapple-strewn lapel. 

The man worked at the Magnus Institute. 

He worked with Tim. 

She knows his name now. 

Jonathan Sims. 

[darewolfcreates]

My digimon :]

[curiousitykilledthe-crow]

WE'RE WE

HERE FUCK

WE'RE SHIT

QUEER UP

[puthyflapps]

These are attached to a very lengthy drabble thing in my drafts. It’s about Toni being in a pop punk band and since it’s been in my drafts forever, I don’t know if it’ll ever see the light of day. So I need to share these to get them the airtime they deserve today

I thot if I made 2015 style lyric edits it would reinforce that the idea of Toni in a pop punk band makes so much sense

[detransdamnation]

Maybe i am in a bit of a blind spot now but stumbling upon your blog and a few of your last answers made me question - if gender roles were nonexistent in society so the sex a person has wouldnt dictate how they are treated - how could someone develop an unease about something truly neutral? I know there are sex differences in humans and thats what we talk about when we speak of transsexual people - the desire to change sex based on a terrifyingly strong discomfort with the one one has. But i am at a loss when it comes to understanding where would that discomfort even start/be influenced by (again as long as the sex you are would make everything neutral) because i always assumed that its that dichotomy of how society views females and males is what later translates into the literal base of where it comes from which is one’s sex. Then - Would the dysphoria grow out of purely desiring something that one doesnt have along the lines the grass is greener on the other side? Getting to experience sex the way it feels like as the other sex (especially in case of not heterosexual people)? Or only An aesthetic pursue? If the only thing that differentiated us in society would be the biological abilities of our bodies and the appearance of it…why do you think would someone still come up with an idea of desiring the other?

After reading especially the last answer it made me think that after all there must be some truly transsexual people who are just born being transsexual. Thats why i decided to send it because i think you established somewhere that you believe there are no trans people who are trans ”just because”, just because they have a brain of the opposite sex trapped in the wrong body etc.

I hope this makes some sense, its not an attack on anything you said more of a big wonder and desire to understand better and i really hope it comes off this way.

You make total sense. Your message doesn't come off as an attack at all.

Anon, I'll be real with you. I reread my answer on whether or not I believe gender abolition would also abolish dysphoria. I did rush in writing that response, greatly so, so the way I phrased my thoughts was particularly subpar; however, as I was trying to tie everything together in this response to you, I realized that the viewpoint I argued didn't really make sense when I held it up to my other beliefs. So, this is a humble admittance that I was, frankly, talking out of my ass. I'm going to use this as an opportunity to reassess my beliefs on this topic and will be re-answering that question once I have done so.

In the meantime, one of the best ways to assess your beliefs is to argue something you disagree with or are unsure of, so I'm going to double down and continue the argument as if I'm completely confident that it's the truth, if only to hopefully better explain where I was coming from when I wrote my previous response. So, proposed argument: Gender abolition will not necessarily abolish sex dysphoria.

First of all, what causes dysphoria and how does gender fit into that framework? I talked about this at length here [AL] and here [AL]. I specifically want to zero in on something I said in the former link:

I [...] do not personally believe that there is a “main reason” on as to why dysphoria may develop in a young person in all cases. I suppose my own “main reason” would be that I fell into the trans community because I never thought seriously about transitioning prior to that time—but the thing is, even if I hadn’t, I would still be dealing with everything else that influenced my getting to this point. [...] If I were to take the trans community out of that equation, it would just be the influence of the trans community missing.

Let’s replace the influence of the trans community with the construct of gender and let’s fast forward to this hypothetical dream society where gender is not an existent thing. We can apply what I said above. We’ve taken away gender and its influences—but we still have everything else. There are numerous factors that could cause a person to develop sex dysphoria; in a genderless society, we have only taken away one. In order to shut down any possibility of dysphoria developing, we would need to get rid of every single possible factor and influence and that is just not a possible feat. Homophobia is a significant factor in many cases of dysphoria and will remain so in a genderless society unless efforts have been previously made to abolish it. No amount of social change will ever eradicate abuse, which can be a trigger in dysphoria in that (especially long-term) abuse victims are prone to redirecting emotional pain to certain aspects of themselves, especially in an effort to regain control, even though they may not “make sense.” It is also impossible for us to eradicate, for instance, natural aspects of our biology that are just plain inconvenient or uncomfortable, which may become objects of fixation (especially in puberty) and cause a person to develop sex dysphoria thereafter. These are just a few examples off of the top of the head—but they and more may all continue on as potential factors because these things, in and of themselves, do not have anything to do with what we have abolished. They do not cease to be potential precursors to mental illness, such as dysphoria, just because we have taken one precursor away.

But why dysphoria? Why would someone develop sex dysphoria in a genderless society if sexes were seen as entirely neutral? Well, let’s turn our attention to another mental illness that is perhaps most reflective of dysphoria (so reflective, in fact, that some people believe them to be one and the same): body dysmorphic disorder. Body dysmorphia is “a mental disorder characterized by the obsessive idea that some aspect of one's own body part or appearance is severely flawed and therefore warrants exceptional measures to hide or fix it.” One’s “flaws” cause significant distress, even to the point of seeking out cosmetic procedures in an aim to “fix” them. Anything can be a trigger in body dysmorphia, although some of the most common include facial features, hair, skin complexion, and coincidentally, sex characteristics such as breasts, facial hair, or genitals—which are all inherently neutral features. No physical feature is objectively “wrong” or “bad,” “good” or “right,” “pretty” or “ugly.” They just are.

So, then, we could ask the same question: Why would people with this disorder fixate on these features and develop an unease with them if they are truly neutral? We could argue the societal pressure of beauty ideals, and certainly, that is a factor in a lot of cases—but if body dysmorphia were truly an issue of how certain features are seen and treated, exclusively, then by all means and purposes, people who are considered to be conventionally attractive should not also be seen developing the disorder. Marilyn Monroe could be an example of this: considered one of the most beautiful women in the world in her time and years after and yet (was believed to have) struggled with body dysmorphia until the day that she died.

Things don’t have to be “not neutral” in order for someone to not like them. Things can be neutral and still cause one discomfort. Things can be seen and treated as indifferent by the collective and yet still be hated by the individual. Why do non-dysphoric people have insecurities at all? A lot of the time, they don’t have specific reasons. I don’t feel they need to have reasons. Just like I don’t feel dysphoric people need to have an ultimate reason on as to why we would develop sex dysphoria when we could have fixated on any other physical trait.

I think where people tend to get tripped up in these discussions is, they try to apply what they know to be reasonable to mental illnesses and how they present in order to rationalize, to themselves, what we are feeling and experiencing—but in doing so, I feel we easily lose sight of the fact that, even without mental illness, the brain does not need a logical reason to fixate on something, to hate something, to want to get rid of something. Marilyn Monroe having been an icon of beauty did not change the fact that she didn’t like her face—and my not believing in gender does not change the fact that I don’t like my sex and desire to be the opposite. Marilyn continued to feel the way she did because she had body dysmorphic disorder. I continue to feel the way I do because I have dysphoria. Both disorders alter how we perceive reality and cause us to believe things about ourselves that are not objectively true. We desire what we do not have because that is a symptom of the inherently nonsensical disorders that we have. That is all there is to it. That is our “why.”

And I am content just leaving it at that. It is my own personal stance that we cannot chase the logistics behind something that is not logical to begin with. At the end of the day, there is no ultimate reason for mental illness. Mental illness does not need to make sense. Mental illness only needs humanity. It will continue to exist no matter how humanity progresses.

So, under this argument, there are a few different points to be had, main ones being that gender abolition will not necessarily abolish sex dysphoria because gender and sex are not one and the same; to take away gender is to take away only one possible factor in one’s dysphoria; and although outside factors can (and do) influence dysphoria and would continue to do so in a genderless society on account of the previous two points, there’s ultimately no “reason” on as to why dysphoric people would continue to cling on to their sex in this society where the two sexes are seen and treated as the exact same—simply because dysphoria, being a mental illness, does not exist on a plane that is rational.

Considering these viewpoints and assuming that they all coexist in this genderless society, then, it may be easy to conclude, like you did, that some people are just born transgender. I do understand how you may have come to that conclusion after reading my response and even I, looking back, feel like that is what I insinuated, even though I did not mean to and was not coming from that position. To clarify, as I have stated before, I do not believe in the idea of “true trans,” and seeing as this is a belief that I actually hold very true to and have for a long time, I’d like to explain why. This is no longer me proposing an argument that I am merely “considering.” This is me demonstrating what I believe.

There are a few different things to consider in the statement, “People are born transgender,” starting with the implications of what it means to be transgender and specifically the dysphoric aspect of it. To suggest that someone could be born transgender is also to insinuate that someone could be born dysphoric, that someone could be born already set to hate their bodies as they grow older.

Of course, we could be less technical here. You may not be born with mental illness in the literal sense—but you can develop mental illness extremely early on in life. So, under the argument that dysphoria is a mental illness, dysphoria can develop from a very young age, and therefore the child, express (what may be interpreted as) a transgender identity. Okay, fair enough. What I have never received closure on is, if a young child exhibits hatred of any other part of their body for any other reason, it is universally considered abnormal, a red flag, something to treat—but as soon as gender or sex comes into the picture, this self-hatred becomes something to validate.

Let’s say that a young child tells you that they do not like their body. Without any other context, what would your first reaction be? Chances are, you would assume that someone or something in this child’s life has taught or influenced them to think this way, even if only inadvertently, and hopefully, you would rush to tell this child that there is nothing wrong with their body, that they are perfect just the way they are. But let’s say, after probing a little further, this young child tells you that they don’t “feel like” their sex, or that they want to be the opposite (in little kid terms). Would you then change your tune and decide that they were “born that way,” that they hate their body because they were just meant to be the opposite sex instead? If your answer is yes, or your no follows hesitancy, I have to wonder what, specifically, would change your mind. What is it about dysphoria that is so different from any other form of self-hatred? Moreover, what implications do you think there are in a child telling someone they presumably trust that they are uncomfortable in their body—and that trusted adult telling them that they are uncomfortable in their body because they were, indeed, born “wrong?”

This leads to an essential question that we, ironically, so often overlook. We have a dysphoric child in front of us. What would make them transgender? The most likely definition of a trans person that everyone could agree on would be someone who is dysphoric, likely someone who has been dysphoric since early childhood—but even that is not a perfect or even accurate definition because not all people with dysphoria go on to transition, not even people with long-term or “treatment-resistant” dysphoria. If dysphoria does not make a transgender person, what does?

Let’s say we have one-thousand dysphoric people in front of us and one person in the group—say, the young child in this analogy, now an adult—is transgender. The only thing that distinguishes this person from the rest of the group is the very act of transition. If this person had never transitioned, there would be no difference between them and the rest of the group. We would have a solid group of cisgender dysphoric people. The transgender person is distinguished only through action, self-identity and personal experience in attempts to accommodate that self-identity. “Brain sex” has been proven to be a myth, so we know there are no biological differences to point to them having “needed” to transition—and even under the possibility that there do exist biological markers in dysphoria that we have not discovered yet, that does not prove that people can be born transgender. At most, these markers could stand as predispositions, similar to how people can be carriers for certain diseases or have “bad genes” that make them more likely to suffer from certain ailments—but none of these things equate to destiny, and in fact, in the case of dysphoria, would only prove that a supportive environment could prevent it—and transgender identity—from coming into the picture at all.

The suggestion that some people are just “made” to go through with any action, including transition, is an insinuation of fate—and I do not believe in fate. I believe in free will to some extent, although that would open us up to the more philosophical question of whether free will is truly free, seeing as we are reflections of our environment and cannot completely separate ourselves from it. In either case, we have seen and established that we can both influence one to develop dysphoria, as well as prevent one from developing dysphoria, all depending on how we, as a society, treat them—and if the people around us can help to prevent dysphoria from becoming an issue entirely, thereby circumventing the desire to transition at all, it is impossible for transgender identity to be truly innate to any one person.

In summary and in closing, mental illness, including dysphoria, is encouraged by—and sometimes even brought on by—our surrounding environment in almost all cases. Environments naturally change overtime, and in the process, certain factors in mental illness may become less common or even disappear entirely; however, just because one goes away does not mean all others disappear. One of many of our possible futures as a society is one without gender, and unsurprisingly, this would get rid of gender as a trigger in dysphoria—but so long as no other factors have been dismantled in the process, they will continue on as potential influences in its development, even in this genderless society. It then may be easy to conclude that some people are just “born” transgender, especially seeing as how the development of sex dysphoria in a genderless society would be even more random (comparatively to that of a gendered one)—but that conclusion, that “Some people are just born that way,” would not be reached with any other mental illness, and beyond that, does not give us, the society, enough credit or responsibility. The fact that there are trans people who barely even remember not being trans, such as myself, stand not as proof that we are “true transsexuals” but as proof that we live in a society that is hostile to multiple vulnerable populations and it is up to us to change that. Gender abolition will not solve all of these problems and it may not even get rid of sex dysphoria entirely—but it is essential and a great place to start, which is why I continue to stand for it, even despite it not being a perfect fix.

I hope this gave you a little more to think on.

[heart-shaped-pupa]

Blake as a name meaning pale white and also black always suggested to me that it was the result of his name being Destroyed by the barber, especially how the sphinx highlights how it is tied to duality because of the black/white nature, and pre-haircut they didn't have much of a tie to duality really. This is also mainly to support that I think the original had a bird name; Robin or Jay or something

[whlskr]

Also I made accounts for Cauterized and the characters

I wish I could express how good these urls are for them

I'm going to carefully start doing actual promoting once I figure out a few more things and have at least one episode recorded. I'm putting together some resources so I can do a countdown drip feed. I'm hoping I get to actually launch everything by April. It'll probably be May, though.

[prokyon]

It's from Ghostblade by WLOP

basic summary in prev post's tags:

love this image bc what did the princess do to make the crowd shout and throw tomatoes at her. i know it wasnt nothing

[ai-art-thieves]

It's Time To Investigate SevenArt.ai

sevenart.ai is a website that uses ai to generate images.

Except, that's not all it can do.

It can also overlay ai filters onto images to create the illusion that the algorithm created these images.

And its primary image source is Tumblr.

It scrapes through the site for recent images that are at least 10 days old and has some notes attached to it, as well as copying the tags to make the unsuspecting user think that the post was from a genuine user.

No image is safe. Art, photography, screenshots, you name it.

Initially I thought that these are bots that just repost images from their site as well as bastardizations of pictures across tumblr, until a user by the name of @nataliedecorsair discovered that these "bots" can also block users and restrict replies.

Not only that, but these bots do not procreate and multiply like most bots do. Or at least, they have.

The following are the list of bots that have been found on this very site. Brace yourself. It's gonna be a long one:

@giannaaziz1998blog

@kennedyvietor1978blog

@nikb0mh6bl

@z4uu8shm37

@xguniedhmn

@katherinrubino1958blog

@3neonnightlifenostalgiablog

@cyberneticcreations58blog

@neomasteinbrink1971blog

@etharetherford1958blog

@punxajfqz1

@camicranfill1967blog

@1stellarluminousechoblog

@whwsd1wrof

@bnlvi0rsmj

@steampunkstarshipsafari90blog

@surrealistictechtales17blog

@2steampunksavvysiren37blog

@krispycrowntree

@voucwjryey

@luciaaleem1961blog

@qcmpdwv9ts

@2mplexltw6

@sz1uwxthzi

@laurenesmock1972blog

@rosalinetritsch1992blog

@chereesteinkirchner1950blog

@malindamadaras1996blog

@1cyberneticdreamscapehubblog

@neomasteinbrink1971blog

@neonfuturecityblog

@olindagunner1986blog

@neonnomadnirvanablog

@digitalcyborgquestblog

@freespiritfusionblog

@piacarriveau1990blog

@3technoartisticvisionsblog

@wanderlustwineblissblog

@oyqjfwb9nz

@maryannamarkus1983blog

@lashelldowhower2000blog

@ovibigrqrw

@3neonnightlifenostalgiablog

@ywldujyr6b

@giannaaziz1998blog

@yudacquel1961blog

@neotechcreationsblog

@wildernesswonderquest87blog

@cybertroncosmicflow93blog

@emeldaplessner1996blog

@neuralnetworkgallery78blog

@dunstanrohrich1957blog

@juanitazunino1965blog

@natoshaereaux1970blog

@aienhancedaestheticsblog

@techtrendytreks48blog

@cgvlrktikf

@digitaldimensiondioramablog

@pixelpaintedpanorama91blog

@futuristiccowboyshark

@digitaldreamscapevisionsblog

@janishoppin1950blog

The oldest ones have been created in March, started scraping in June/July, and later additions to the family have been created in July.

So, I have come to the conclusion that these accounts might be run by a combination of bot and human. Cyborg, if you will.

But it still doesn't answer my main question:

Who is running the whole operation?

The site itself gave us zero answers to work with.

No copyright, no link to the engine where the site is being used on, except for the sign in thingy (which I did.)

I gave the site a fake email and a shitty password.

Turns out it doesn't function like most sites that ask for an email and password.

Didn't check the burner email, the password isn't fully dotted and available for the whole world to see, and, and this is the important thing...

My browser didn't detect that this was an email and password thingy.

And there was no log off feature.

This could mean two things.

Either we have a site that doesn't have a functioning email and password database, or that we have a bunch of gullible people throwing their email and password in for people to potentially steal.

I can't confirm or deny these facts, because, again, the site has little to work with.

The code? Generic as all hell.

Tried searching for more information about this site, like the server it's on, or who owned the site, or something. ANYTHING.

Multiple sites pulled me in different directions. One site said it originates in Iceland. Others say its in California or Canada.

Luckily, the server it used was the same. Its powered by Cloudflare.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what to do with any of this information.

If you have any further information about this site, let me know.

Until there is a clear answer, we need to keep doing what we are doing.

Spread the word and report about these cretins.

If they want attention, then they are gonna get the worst attention.