#and be worse off than before

[anothersuperstition]

like five commissions would solve so many of my problems right now …. 🌀you want to commission me🌀…. 🌀you want to look at my pinned post and you want to commission me sooooo bad🌀…….

a few recent commissions ⬇️

been loving leaning into more illustration/poster work and would love to do more!!

[factual-fantasy]

So I finally got around to that "inevitable angst" I was talking about XDD

Silly Octo, you should have given your wound ample time to heal! Now look at you, struck down and in critical condition. And look at that! You made your best friend cry. All because you couldn't accept the fact that you were weaker than the rest of your crew and needed extra time to recover. Silly goose! 🦆 🦆

[leupagus]

Ted Lasso, the character, is one of the only representations of 'sometimes getting better with your mental health issues means that you are less visibly happy, and that is okay, because you are not required to be happy in order to be loved' out there and I am really discouraged that so much of the audience is angry at that.

[markscherz]

I… do not understand tumblr live. Like, are there actually only about 50 people streaming across the whole platform at any one time? And why are so many of them just… people smoking? Or unoccupied desks? And why is nobody talking about frogs?

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[bacchuschucklefuck]

pygmalion and galatea for aroace people

you should tell your friends what I look like, riz gukgak.

[becca-e-barnes]

Can i request something where bucky has a smutty obsession with sundresses? Just the way his doll looks in them and stuff?

I've definitely written Bucky loving sundresses before but now that there's a bit of a chill in the air, I'm imagining the same sundresses but with tights underneath 😏

Having the tights keeps you a little bit warmer but it doesn't give Bucky the access he's used to. The tights are such a tease because he knows how flimsy they are but they're in the way of what he wants and that would never do.

He does love the feeling of them though. The thin material is so smooth under his fingertips, there's an attractive sheen to them and he finds he can't take his eyes off your legs, right at the hem of your dress.

"Sweetheart." Bucky's voice is firm and it makes you smile to yourself. "Come here."

He's sitting by the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and you know that he's been watching you since you came down to make your breakfast.

You peck his lips softly when you reach him, enjoying the way a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Everything okay?" You ask, letting him press his knee between your thighs, spreading your legs.

His hands land on your legs out of instinct. The silky smooth feeling does something for him that he didn't quite expect and for a second, touching you over the fabric feels just as intimate as touching your bare skin.

"I like these." Bucky teases, squeezing your ass, making you roll slightly against his thigh.

"I'm glad you like them. You need to be gentle though, you'll rip them."

That wasn't even something he'd considered but now it's all he can think about. Those perfect tights, totally ruined, your panties pushed out of the way so there's nothing between your body and his fingers.

"You've never really liked it when I'm too gentle." He reminds you and you can't help but giggle because he's right and you know it. "What if... I just ripped a hole. Right here. Between your legs." His fingers tap the apex of your thighs, through your tights and underwear and your only option is to grind down on his thigh just a little harder.

"That would ruin them." You rock your hips back and forth, enjoying the friction against his insanely muscular thigh, letting your own need build.

"I don't think so. I think it might make them better. You know I like those pretty dresses you wear. Putting that flimsy fabric in the way is just a tease." Both of his hands meet under your skirt, testing the resistance of the material when he tugs in different directions.

"Rip them." You whisper, half pleading.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, pulling harder and you feel the fabric give the whole way across with little ladders beginning to run down the legs.

"Bend over. Let me see." You do as you're told, standing up, pulling the skirt of your dress up to expose your clothed sex to him.

It's not clothed for long though, he widens the hole just a little, slipping your panties to the side to allow him to sink a finger into your wet, eager, inviting cunt, quickly followed by a second.

"Pretty little hole to fuck you through." He muses, watching you try to resist the urge to fuck yourself on his fingers, getting more and more desperate for his cock.

[splickedylit]

captiancap asked: I'd like to see any art you have of the Michigan Fleet cast. I do really like them. feral-engineer asked: For art requests: can we get something with trimmer? Maybe a hug, or baby trimmer causing problems on purpose? damnfool-of-a-took asked: for the art prompt request! Michigan Fleet, kid!Trimmer🔪👀?

Y'all are just too kind 🥰 I've been sitting on boatboy sketchbook scans for a WHILE not getting around to them, so here are some folks--some on boats and some not, some from published books and some not! :D

Rich and Trimmer never met each other as kids which is probably for the best because Rich was an impressionable little dumpling and Trimmer was a fast-paced, daring, precocious bump/bruise-magnet, like many fourhands kids lol

[kabutoden]

FUCK THE KARKAT VANTAS PLUSH THEY CUT ME OFF FOR FUCKING REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

I WAS GOING TO MAKE A KARKAT VANTAS PLUSH AND SELL IT TO THE PEOPLE!! I WAS GOING TO DO THAT!!! I HAD A MARKETABLE PLUSHIE DESIGN AND EVERYTHING!!!! DO YOU SEE THIS FUCKER??? DO YOU SEE HIM??? DO YOU FUCKING SEE HIM?

I SAID IT TO ALL MY FREINDS!! TO MY FAMILY!! 'gonna make a marketable plushie out of this dog hes sellable as fuck' FUCK!!!! THEY FUCKING GOT TO IT BEFORE ME AND THEIR DESIGN ISNT EVEN GOOD!!! WHY IS THE HAIR LIKE THAT ITS FUCKING makeship THEY CAN MAKE SOME PRETTY QUALITY WORK!! ITS GOING TO COST 30 DOLLARS YOU DIDNT FUCKING NEED TO skIMP ON THE HAIR!!!!! PROMISE!!! WHAT IS THIS A FUCKING FNAF PLUSH??? ARE YOU JOKING??? WHO DID YOU COMMISSION TO MAKE THIS PLUSH DEISNGNNNNN WHY IS THE HAIR FLATTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I WAS GOING TO DO THAT!!! IT WAS HALF THE REASON I MADE THIS STINKIN COMIC AND NOW I HAVE 60 MORE PAGES I WANT TO FINISH NOOOOO FUCKKKKKKKKKK NOW I HAVE OFFICIAL COMPETITIONNN WHYYYY

its fine. im fine im. FIIIIIINEEEEEEEE. its on me for not working on aphids... f in the fucking chat (this post is not very serious)

[frogwithastrawberry]

What if after crawling out of the harbor Kaz made sure he knew how to swim, and how to swim with extra weight, because he didn't ever want to rely on someone or something else if he ended up in the water again.

It's one of the things that started the rumors that Dirtyhands wasn't human. Fisherman would see him walk out to the docks in the dead of winter, fully clothed in his coat and all, and then dive into the water, no matter how rough it was. They all assumed that he was dead, because no one ever saw him get out of the water, yet he was always back the next day.

They assumed that he would stop when he broke his leg and started using a cane. But he didn't. They watched the scrawny kid, cloaked in mercher black clothes and a heavy wool coat, limp down the dock, take a deep breath, and jump in the water again.

At some point someone suggested he might be a tidemaker, but no one ever saw him control any water. He'd just dive in. And it's widely known that he wouldn't have made it this far in life if he was using tidemaker powers visibly. So they all just assumed that Kaz Brekker was a non-human entity incapable of dying.

[mountmortar]

anyway anyone who thinks that blue is the poster boy for the "jerk rival" trope when silver is quite literally right there has clearly never paid any attention to any of blue's dialogue in the games, where there are Quite Literally Multiple Instances of blue giving red advice meant to aid him on his journey in the same way that many of the later friendly rivals and neighbors do, even if the tone of it isn't as sickeningly sweet as the later rivals are. blue literally, in the game, waited in the middle of silph co. to challenge red to a battle to make SURE he was ready to take on giovanni because he was worried about him. do some of you genuinely think that blue was so mean to red when they were eleven that red is like. still traumatized by it when they're in their twenties or something.

red and blue's whole journey is actually kind of hilarious because you have professor oak very clearly favoring red to the point where blue isn't even an afterthought and blue's clearly decided that he's sick of it and hates red now but he still shows up to give him advice and check on him to make sure he can actually handle fighting team rocket and whatnot. it's just a constant loop of "yo! red! crawl around in grassy areas to find more pokémon! go visit bill (who gives red the s.s. anne pass) and thank him for creating the P.C.! i waited here in silph co. for you because i knew you'd turn up! you collected all the badges, too? that's cool! i was looking forward to seeing you!" that he buries under another loop of eleven-year-old "I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU LOOK HOW COOL AND STRONG I AM" bullshit because again. he's just up and decided he hates red now because he's clearly & understandably jealous of all the attention professor oak is giving him ("you and your rival used to play nicely together when you were little, but lately, he has become mean." -> pokémon blue manual) but that doesn't change the fact that they've been friends since they were toddlers and that never once goes away no matter WHAT happens between them. do you think blue's phone call ("I'm Blue. Man, this guy called Red brought me down in a heartbeat. I haven't seen him in a long time...I wonder where he is and what he's up to… Come to think of it, you look a little bit like Red. Yeah, you do. Just...Just a little bit. Whatever...") came from nowhere. Do you think that isn't the sound of a fourteen-year-old missing his best friend. Grabbing you all by the shoulders here. Do you think they ever stopped being friends. If you answer wrong you get tossed into a volcano

[wizzard890]

And I saw another beast come up out of the earth...and he spake as a dragon. (Revelation 13:11)

.

The Coronation of His Majesty King Bastian I - The Hour of Wolves

When he was born he was a small thing. A screaming infant, a second son, destined perhaps for military greatness, but never dukedom. Never inheritance. Never conquest.

But at the inception of the light, the birth of the world, the moment between silence and splendor when The Glory breathed across the scope of creation: he was no small thing then.

Even then, he was coming.

His rise runs with blood: knives in the back, poison, betrayal, kidnapping and vengeance.

His rise burns with greatness: glory, family, rescue, love and ferocity.

The secret world recognized him before he knew himself. A fairy witch marked his passing and offered her slender wrist for his talons. A dead sun opens its mouth for him, a vanished Christ is his counterpart, a death knight worships before him, a raven-haired little girl holds the hand of her doting and beloved father.

The world we know calls him king of France, the monarch of a seized throne, a general who has promised the great lords England on its knees.

The Devil, in his own tongue, may call him son. The Glory has said nothing.

Would you know him if you saw him? Would you recognize what he is?

Bow, while you consider, and kiss his ring. There is a crown of flame upon his brow.

[torchwood-99]

I know that benophie fans are upset about Benedict and Sophie getting skipped for Polin, and I totally get it. But at the same time, a part of me's relieved that we're getting Polin out of the way. Their fandom has become so loathsome that I honestly can't wait for this season to be over and done with. I love Benedict so much, almost as much as Eloise, and unlike Eloise, I don't have any hang ups with his book relationship, so I'm truly looking forward to seeing him getting the limelight he deserves. And while it's miserable having to wait longer, I know I will enjoy his season all the more with Polin (hopefully) taking a backseat.

At this point, Polin is the broccoli I'm forcing down (or trying to skip) before I can get to the tasty part of my meal.

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

To me, the biggest difference between comic Wallace and Anime Wallace is that Comic Wallace is like a normal guy who (imo) is very obviously still just a 25 year old making stupid decisions and working in shitty jobs and barely getting by, and he just looks more competent when standing next to massive boy-failure Scott (and because hes sassy and carefree). and Anime Wallace is beloved by the universe, so he just gets an acting job for being Wallace, with 5 stunt doubles (that he bargained for with a lawyer Comic Wallace probably could never afford. Seriously, where did he get that money??? Did he seduce a lawyer???????) and a millionaire husband, and lives in a millionaire mansion where he drinks all day and never has to work again. And like good for him, I guess? Slay.

[tinystepsforward]

ngl it makes me want to die a little bit that it's so often trans people who feel that sex is mutable but oppression is always-forever based on asab in ways that allow them to demand that information from other trans people. like it feels fucking bad. it feels bad when it's people holding up someone who posts a lot of selfies as transition goals to a degree they have to clarify what they have or haven't done or what "direction" they're going in, it feels worse when people are out there like "caster semenya is not tma" or whatever the fuck. i am, as always, not a trans woman, but here's a sentiment echoed by many of the trans women around me who log the fuck off, quoted directly from one: "people who draw a clear line where they say that semenya or khelif are tme and then call me tma are just calling me male at this point".

like i get it. i really do. we seek community and shared experiences, and we feel betrayed when people have less in common with us than we thought they did. [*more on this later.] but that's not those people's faults and my god in the case i'm seeing play out on twitter rn this poor person did absolutely nothing to intentionally mislead people, just posted pictures of their actual kid self. who looks a lot like i did, because shockingly enough "we can always tell" doesn't fucking work for trans people either!

on the one hand i move in intersex circles which are unapologetically welcoming in cis "dyadic" people with pcos, because it serves nobody to draw a clear line where mutilation or genetics or some ineffable childhood suffering are what make somebody intersex, especially when most of us (esp in places like nz) have never been karyotyped and are being treated for symptoms without a pinned-down cause anyway. the more of us there are the stronger we are, the more pressure we can exert on a medical profession which doesn't like to consider how common outliers are, how uneasy sex is at all. and then on the other hand there's dyadic trans people on the internet who've yelled me out of spaces because a couple of traumatised incarcerated trans women i worked with as a prison abolitionist assumed i was also a trans woman and i didn't immediately tell them my entire csa-involved history of being sexed in varying ways as an infant and child and/or exactly how big my phallus was at birth or where in my junk config my urethra lives so they could decide i was tme or whatever.

returning to the * for a related but not identical thought: i think presuming shared experiences leads to some fucked shit in general! "oh we all had a radfem phase" or "oh we all were channers" no we fucking weren't and it's particularly obnoxious when me & mine are trying to build trans community locally to organise and resist the growing wave of far-right backlash against our existence, and there's just white people in there on a spectrum from "straight up being antisemitic and trying to get the n-word pass" through "handwringing about how they need to make space for people who aren't politically correct" to "handwringing about how brown people are right to be mad at them but doing shit fuckall". and then the other fucking brown people in the space are on some identity politics shit where they're like "trans joy inherently excludes those of us who could get deported" or "big city white queers are killing us by being visible instead of going stealth bc it stirs up the discourse" or whatever the fuck i've heard pulled out this year. there's a bunch of reasons i primarily organise outside of trans spaces and that's one of them. i've never felt more alone in spaces where people claim we're all the same than being left as the brownest moderator or organiser in a space full of people to whom "this is a safe trans space" apparently means they get to abdicate all other responsibilities not to lapse into presumed shared patterns that are fucking racist or otherwise alienating. i've never felt more alone than surrounded by exclusively trans people who sort people into boxes and assume everyone in those boxes has the transition goals they have. like i was on cypro until it disagreed with me to the point of endocrine crisis and now i'm on t and at both those points people were so fucking presumptive or entitled to my reasons or journey or personal relationship w my body

literally just submitted on (and was invited to consult on) the nz law commission's review of the human rights act and like. it's straight up fucked how many nz trans people fully do not comprehend that any "sex assigned at birth" type definitions fundamentally exclude migrants who have no way of proving it and many intersex people who happen to have been reassigned later or many times or never assigned at all as a baby. we can't make law with this shit and that's why we have to have symmetrical protections for all genders/sexes/expressions/presentations, bc naming and defining a protected class here often leaves the people who already are left out from those shared experiences of marginalisation out in the cold when they face violence

[iloveacronix]

Sighhh. Dear mutuals. Please stop sending me smut fanfictions, ESPECIALLY the ILLUSTRATED ONES, when you know damn well I'm less than 18, know my SPECIFIC age, and KNOW I do not feel comfortable with smut.

I am VERY uncomfortable when you do this and you, as someone older than me, should know better. I do NOT care if you like the ship, I do NOT care if you think its good, I DONT WANT TO FUCKING READ IT, and I DONT WANT YOU SENDING ME LINKS TO THAT SHIT. I AM NOT INTO IT, BUT SOMETIMES IM CURIOUS AND IT DISGUSTS ME. LIKE COULD YOU NOT?? I do not mind if you mention the word it's not specific at ALL, but if you are going to fully talk about it DETAILED OUT shut up. I don't want to hear it. Don't want to read it. And I do not want to see it. Also don't have the crappy mindset where you think that suddenly because we're mutuals it means we're bestie best friends and you feel privileged to send me inappropriate shit, because that's not how it works. None of you, AND I MEAN NONE OF YOU, are "PriViLEgEd" to send me smut FICS or links, and it will never happen because im not looking forward to reading it. Don't use that excuse again. You know who you are.

So please. Stop. This is the third time. I don't care if you're a friend, if you send me smut FICS or links WITHOUT WARNING, I'm blocking you. I blocked two people already for it, I can do it many more times. Your bullshit only makes me feel more fucking tired and reluctant to make more online friends. So stop. When I say I'm a kid(not that young but still) on my bio, I'm serious. It doesn't matter if it's "just a written story and it's not a big deal," it is for me because it just shows me how much of a freak you are to have the audacity to show it to a minor THAT HAS ALREADY "SAID I DO NOT WANT TO READ SMUT."

Thank you. Good day.