#feel free to continue this yourself

[chaos-vulpix]

Incorrect Legacyverse Quotes

PART 1

Jesse: I need a moment with him.

Secret Ninja Force: Of course.

They leave

Jesse, leaning over Cole′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.

Cole: Yeah, no shit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jesse: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Cole: You and me!!!

Jesse, tearing up: Okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Olivia: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Jesse: Olivia no.

Jamie: Mistlefoe.

Jesse: Please stop encouraging them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jay: HELP! I TOLD NYA I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! 

Cole, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Olivia: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me. 

Puffer: Okay, but in my defence, Four-Eyes bet me 50 cents I couldn’t drink all that shampoo. 

Olivia: That’s not what I wanted to- you drank SHAMPOO?!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cole: I think we're missing something. 

Zane: Teamwork? 

Jay: Cohesion? 

Kai: A general sense of what we’re doing?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zane, about Kai: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Jay: Are we stealing them?

Cole: New or used?

Zane: Wonderful responses, both of you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jamie, Olivia, and Antonia are sitting on a bench

Jesse: Why do you guys look so sad?

Jamie: Sit down with us so we can tell you.

Jesse sits down

Olivia: The bench is freshly painted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cole: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right.

Jamie: Looking right because you left.

Harumi: Looking up cause you let me down.

Olivia: Looking down cause you fucked up.

Bridget: What is wrong with you guys?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Can I copy the homework?'

Jesse: I can help you with it! 

Zane: Yeah, sure. 

Cole: Bold of you to assume I did the homework. 

Lloyd: lol nope. 

Kai: Wait, we had homework?!?!?! 

Olivia: Read 5:55pm

[crystallizsch]

okay hi so listen hear me out

sea snake is a bit too obvious (and too boring)

so i made him based on some kind of lionfish??? (bc something something venomous marine animal) also with a LOT of creative liberties i made with how the fish looks like

let’s also give his fins some rips and tears here and there bc what are the implications of that??? that’s for you 🫵 to decide

anyways chat i lowkey dont know what i was doing

i had no other thoughts but haha funny snake man i turn into fish

[thinkpink212]

Hey, not sure if you’ve answered a similar question. How does one come to terms with the situations they are in and learn to move on to a better and successful life? This also includes feeling behind in life, when compared to friends and family or even dealing with jealousy. Sorry for the long ask.

Learn to respect yourself, your time and your journey. Learn to be gentle with yourself, to understand that you have had a life that’s unique to you. Where you started, what support you have or haven’t had alongside opportunities are vastly different from your those around you.

Learn to work with what you have, create the goal and stick to it, not through hardship but love. Get better for you because you belive you deserve better. Success is whatever you decide is sucess. To me, any woman making it past 25 without a child is sucessfull because at some point we didn’t have choices. Zoom out and look at your life in conjunction to your ancestors. Where you came from, your parents, and what’s available to you now. You can be and do whatever you want - please belive me when I say this. Comparison isn’t only a thief of joy, it’s a robber of relationships. Instead of envy, jealousy or comparison within the negatives, find inspiration. Someone succeeds, think to yourself wow, they did it despite it all, so can I. The pie will never get too small, you will never be too late for anything, you will never miss out because you’re in your own race. So please, take your time to get to know yourself, your why’s, what needs to change in order for you to get there (discipline, dedication, motivation, less distractions, more support, more money, more mental stability — and then go get it)

we are so much more stronger and more capable then we think. There are people who root for you in silence, who have you as their inspiration (even from a short or one time interaction) Whatever happens will always pas, and then you’ll have tomorrow to try again. 🫶🏾 Hope this is helpful.

[the-pobble-terrarium]

Guys I have no idea how to continue the comics I make 😭 trust me they’re left on a cliffhanger for a reason- if I continued them it would take a tone of my sketchbook space/time and I’d probably get out of hand with it and never actually properly finish it. I know you want continuations but they’re not likely to happen unless I already had an idea in mind for them. /lh /nm

[stellaelillac]

I am working on my new blog. It might take some time so until there, i am going to answer the things i owe here but once i finish it, i’m moving everything to answer there.

I’m going to follow people from there but please, like this post if you want to continue being mutuals!

[aeolianblues]

good god girl, maybe some of us are not vegan because we eat chicken like once in three months?? Would reduction not be a more productive goal of vegan activism than outright banning? Like if your arguments are that animals are being eaten, then you’re being unrealistic about the entire actual concept of the food chain. Humans are omnivores, you do not need to change that to achieve your goals.

A vegan lifestyle is also entirely the product of your geographical location. If you live somewhere that shit does not grow, what are you going to do?? I just think about the difference between food options in India and Canada, for example. India: between the tropics (tropics and equator even, in fact). All-year-round sun, there’s pretty much always stuff growing. Different kinds of land will mean you can grow everything from staples like rice and wheat to vegetables, fruits and plantation crops. It’s reflected in the cuisines: Indian food has a much, much wider offering of vegetarian food, and many more Indians have restricted diets that more or less overlap with vegetarianism. Because crops grows. Locally.

Canada. Harvest in the fall, from November to March, your fields are practically unusable. Compare the prices of fresh produce in (and now I’m being generous to give you a highly populated, non-remote province here for an example) Ontario. Ontario has farms where in the fall you get fresh autumn vegetables and fruits. You’ll also get them in larger quantities. It is way cheaper, fresher and also uses less energy and fuel to transport the vegetables like 50 km from farm to market.

Come the winter and nothing grows. If you look at most vegetables you’ll find on store shelves in December or February, and most of it is either imported from warmer regions of the US (often the case for chains that are in both countries) or from South American countries (sometimes SA -> USA -> Canada). The importing has to go through cross-country customs, had to be driven for days, is less fresh or rich in nutrients by the time you get it, and is more expensive. Of course. And we all come out of it poorer. Is it any wonder why people will eat meat? We’re even talking here about a place like Ontario, very well connected on North American trade routes. Can you justify someone in Yukon deciding to eat meat over a $17/lb. green veg? Be for fucking real…

There simply cannot be a blanket-global solution to animal products. You’ve got to work with what your geography has to offer. It’s the same thing we say when we say that avocados have an environmental cost when you expect them to be available year-round in places they don’t grow. We encourage people to go for more local produce there, and I think the same should go for all parts of your diet too. If your animals are local, then their footprint is lower than importing kiwis from New Zealand to the US. I don’t see how that’s hard to understand.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

ppl will go “i’d notice if society was going to sacrifice a marginalised group of people and if they said that it’s ok that a bunch of people would die then i would stand against it” and then they’ll hear people saying “well only disabled and vulnerable people will die of covid” and go “yes this is normal and ok and fine”

[sapphos-darlings]

Hey there, m’ladies! /tips fedora

It’s Sade here! I’m writing to you now because there is, for whatever reason, a huge uptick in hate targeting detransitioning women online at this time, and that sucks. It made me think if I’ve ever been upfront here about the changes in my identity over the course of these past few years, so if I have not, I will be so now, because it is important that there is visibility for us.

When we started this blog several years ago, I was a trans man, 100%, plain and simple. I don’t remember if I had at this stage stopped taking testosterone, which I did for health reasons, as my body never agreed with hormone replacement therapy - but if I hadn’t, it would come soon after. At the time I stopped taking T, nothing about it was due to changes in my identity. HRT was making me very sick, and at this point, I’d already quit it once for the same reason, only to pick it up again after two years as I’d recovered, thinking it was a coincidence. Two years back on T and I’d learned it was not a coincidence; HRT was contributing to my ill health. I knew I would not be prescribed HRT again after stopping the treatment twice: no sane health care professional is going to look at that and go “okay, nothing to see here, go ahead and pick it up again”, so I had to make the final choice on whether I’d continue despite my ailing health, or quit it for good.

I chose to quit.

This didn’t affect how I viewed myself. I’ve experienced cross-gender identification, as they clinically call it, and dysphoria from early childhood onwards. My first instance of telling my parents that I did not want to be bought “girl toys” because I was “boyish” was around 5 or 6 years old. I’ve consistently presented in a masculine manner since childhood, and preferred the activities and expression associated with boys rather than girls, and this was not due to enforcement of gender roles in my family or immediate circumstances growing up. I’ve always been allowed to do what I wanted, within reason; for example, I was prohibited from opening manhole covers to go looking for frogs in the sewers, but climbing trees and swordfighting and carrying a bow everywhere I went, which was usually in the middle of the forest or a ditch, was fine. (I did continue to open manhole covers to go looking for frogs in the sewers despite it being forbidden, but that is besides the point.) My mum wanted a princess to doll up, but gave up on that within the first couple years of my life due to my predictable counteraction of undressing myself if I was put in a dress, or alternatively rolling in mud to ruin the outfit, or tearing it up doing unladylike things while inappropriately dressed for the occasion. I made a mess of our bathroom trying to pee like a boy, and by 10 years old, I was crying myself to sleep because I’d realised I was going to grow up into a woman, and felt like my life was therefore already over. I wanted to be a boy, and I wanted to grow up to be a man.

This dysphoria did not let up when I entered my teens, but I’m not going to write about that period of time in more detail solely because it is a very painful subject that I’m not in the mental place to revisit. To put it shortly - this was the latter half of the first decade of the 2000s, transgender experiences were not widely known or recognised, and there was no mainstream promotion of resources or information about gender dysphoria. And still I ran into one example after another: people who had gone through horrific pain, but who I immediately recognised my own experience from. During these years, I realised that I was transsexual, as it was called then, and that I had to hide it and suppress it, because if I didn’t, I would die.

It was only with the help of the other mod of this blog that I finally at 18, after moving out of my childhood home to live on my own, began to feel safe exploring my gender and my expression. With her help, I embraced my male identity, and she’s told me countless times how it was for her to witness that angry, self-destructive girl blossom into a much calmer, much more stable young man. I spent a year on my self-exploration, making absolutely certain by journaling and endlessly seeking information, that transition was the right choice for me. I asked myself all the questions, I looked up all the consequences, I wanted to know everything about transition and trans futures and trans presents and trans pasts, and I even looked into detransition to make sure I wasn’t transitioning for any of the reasons that people who regretted their choices later had.

And then, at 19 going 20, I sought out a referral to the gender clinic of my area, beginning the six months long evaluation process for a diagnosis. The criteria at that time was strict: not only did you need the two year long “real life” experience of living in your chosen gender role, but you had to pass all sorts of psychiatric and physical evaluations to qualify for it. I was recognised as traumatised, anxious and depressed, but of sound mind and with a consistent, typical history of transgender identification from childhood onwards, by all of their criteria that needed to be crossed for them to diagnose me. And I was diagnosed, and prescribed topical testosterone to start at this point.

I loved being on testosterone. I loved all the changes it was giving me, even if those were very few in reality. I felt amazing in my body, and I felt amazing as a human being, and I was genuinely enjoying myself at this time. But it started digging into my body very fast in all the wrong ways, beginning with my brain; it was exacerbating and transforming my existing mental health conditions in ways that I didn’t know how to cope with. My depression turned angry instead of sad, and my self-harm habit grew worse and more frequent with suicidal breakdowns being a fairly common occurrence. My anxiety turned into all-consuming paranoia that eventually exploded into psychotic symptoms. And my physical health was imploding - at a point, I was visiting urgent care every week with terrifying problems like the inability to swallow anything more solid than soup, I was literally choking even on ramen, and could not eat meat at all. My body was hurting, I had dizzy spells that made me unable to get out of bed, I had a recurrent UTI that came back for about seven times in the span of six months and I was living on cranberry juice and antibiotics all the way until the doctors couldn’t even find an infection anymore, my body was just so wrecked from them that I was starting to experience chronic pain when urinating.

It was my mental health that made me drop T for the first time, rather than the physical ailments. I just thought I was dying, and had no idea this was related to T at all. I’d never heard of anything like this in context of HRT at the time, so I hardly connected it, aside from guesswork regarding my bodily pains being a result of muscle growth with no proper exercise, benign things like this. I was planning my funeral, and while all of this was going on, I couldn’t keep up the routine of applying topical T every day, and I eventually realised it’d probably be healthier for me to not be on HRT at all than it would be to take it infrequently and potentially destabilising my body’s hormonal balance.

I don’t remember what happened between that point and going back on T well, only that I recovered to a degree where I was now attending a rehab program three times a week, and my life was looking up. I chose to start Sustanon injections instead of topical to avoid the previous issue with routines, should my mental health get worse again, and I am not kidding when I say that the injection was the highlight of my biweekly existence. I felt on the top of the world every day my nurse stuck that needle in my arm, and I loved living.

Two years in, my mental health was down the shitter again to the point where I could not leave the house, and my body was breaking down on me. I developed tachycardia during this time, not clinically significant enough to diagnose but significant enough to have me on what’s now looking like lifelong treatment of beta blockers. And then I started losing my hair, and it was the last straw that made me turn from clearly mentally ill to batshit crazy - I could not shower if there was light in the room, and I wore gloves to touch my body. I covered all the mirrors in the house, and never turned the lights on.

And as I said before, this was the point where I had to make a permanent choice: I either accept that this is my life, or I quit T to recover. (And save my hair.) I didn’t have long to make that choice and it tortured me for months. I did not want to stop T. I’d been on for four years combined, and I’d gotten very few changes; my voice is amazing, and I have a faint trail of belly hair, but that is just about the extent of what had happened. I had no significant bottom growth, I’d never left the typical female range on the clit/cock spectrum. To date, the best I can say for my facial hair is that I have tiny tufts of greyish, soft whiskers above my lip, and some curly pubes under my chin, around the top of my neck. Nothing on my face. And I realised - nothing that I’d gotten from T was going to go away if I stopped HRT, and staying on T was giving me nothing more, while taking away so much.

So I quit, but I did not detransition, nor did I have any intentions of doing so. I could not bear being referred to with a female name, and female pronouns made me panic at best and want to skin myself at worst. But I wanted to get better, so I started to work on that, little by little. I didn’t want to suffer, especially looking at a future where I might feminise in appearance, and besides, I did not feel safe or welcome with cisgender men, nor was I interested in hanging out with them (at all.) I’d always been a female and always felt kinship with other females, women and other; I understood them, and they understood me, and I felt safe with them which I did not feel at all with men, due to my difficult childhood and overall history. So I started to build on that - joined all sorts of sisterhoods, began to appreciate my female body for being pretty fucking amazing. (Female bodies are pretty fucking amazing. We’re made to endure and survive. Our bodies may not be strong by design, but we are hardy as fuck, and always the last woman standing when it comes to disasters like famines and long winters, and while an average woman may not be able to win a wrestling match with the average man, we will most definitely outlast him when injured or ill or starved - the odds are in our favour when it comes to persevering in this world. We were built to make it here.)

I grew up surrounded by SSA girls. I don’t exactly know how this happened, but from late preteen onwards, I was hanging out with mostly gay people, particularly gay and bisexual women. This was my community, where I truly felt I belonged. So I started digging my way back in. This is part of the reason this blog exists: we needed a place where we could uplift people like us, women like us, and individuals like myself who are on the female side of something else.

Through all of this, reconditioning myself to let go of my fear and hatred of everything feminine, and embracing my body as a beautiful thing that is working for me, not against me, I started to become more comfortable with myself. And through doing so, I started feeling more confident letting go of the male mask I’d been clinging to despite the whole of my biology being against me on it: it had taken all of my mental power to make sure I passed, every day, and every instance of not passing was crushing both in the mental sense that it reminded me of what I lacked and what hurt me all of the time, but also in the sense that it made me so incredibly afraid for my safety, and it was just not working out for me. I started dressing up the way I wanted to, chose my clothes on the basis of what was comfortable to wear and what was fun to wear, rather than whether it was hiding my form or making me appear more angular or mannish. And I felt... delivered. Freed. Amazing. People around me didn’t actually immediately attack me on sight when I didn’t pass as a man. They didn’t care. I was the only one who actually had cared if I passed or not. I started experimenting with my style, and it turned out that what was comfortable and fun for me to wear was usually female-cut shirts, fabrics used for women’s clothes, trousers that fit the female form. No longer were my shirts crawling up my throat and too stiff to ever feel unconstricted by, and no longer were my jeans biting into my hips and twenty miles too long underneath my feet. And I regained the ability to wear patterns and prints, which are forbidden in the male world. The cutest design you are allowed to wear as a man is the logo of a university you’ve never been to. Women’s clothes are fucking amazing when it comes to diversity of style, colour and design. 

I did not go full feminine. I have never been feminine and I will never be. I kept my hair cropped short both because I was still paranoid about it and because I frankly do not fucking know what to do with long hair, I don’t understand hair care or hair styling and I always end up looking like a depressed mop when I let it grow out. Shaved hair is great, it looks great, and I feel great in it. (And so it’s ironic that I’m growing it out right now, for reasons wholly unrelated to femininity, and more to a deep-seated desire for a manbun which returns periodically to me every few years or so.) My clothes are at best androgynous, and I love being as butch as my bisexual ass will carry me.

Over the course of all of this happening, I also received a mental health diagnosis that changed my treatment entirely. Through trauma/dissociation focused talk therapy, I started to actually work on the problems that had been recognised this whole time, but neglected and ignored and shoved aside despite my lifelong history of being a patient in the mental health care system.

The combination of these two factors, of me easing myself back into a more natural expression and acceptance of the reality of my body alongside with proper therapy that targeted the damage underlying all of my mental health symptoms, is what ultimately led to me realising that I feel fine as a woman.

I’m not dysphoric anymore. I don’t feel all-consuming grief at the thought of growing old as a woman. I love the idea of becoming this silver-haired kickass granny one day. I am proud of being a same-sex attracted female. I prefer she/her pronouns now, because I don’t have to panic every time I’m being referred to - I don’t have to defend myself, or worry that I’ll be thrown out of the closet and into the midst of lions. I feel confident and great in my skin and my health is actually a thousand times better than it’s ever been, though it looks like I’m finally developing a long overdue case of fibromyalgia, but hey, maybe it’s Maybelline or maybe she’s got long COVID, we just don’t know (yet).

I don’t hate any of the changes I got on T and I would have loved to get more, but on certain parts, I’m glad I didn’t. I already mentioned I wouldn’t know what to do with my hair if my life depended on it, just imagine what it’d be like if I was growing a beard. I was also very much right on the count of “nothing that I got will go away”, because I’m still a hairy beast with whiskers and a deliciously dark voice, but I’ve got a ton of range on that now and I’m so happy with the sex characteristics I’ve got going for me. I don’t feel ashamed of my body, and somehow in the same vein I’ve been released from the confines of conventional beauty standards, because I am very much the epitome of ugly if you ask the mainstream media, and I fucking love it, and want to be even more so. I am hairy, I am fat, I am masculine, I’m opinionated and annoying and I’m not going to apologise for any of that again.

And now, if you’ve made it this far - great, first off, but also why - I just want to add my grievances to the bottom line. Everywhere I go, detransition is assumed to equal transphobia. I give no two fucks about what anybody else in this world does with their bodies, actually. I’ve made these choices for my own mental and physical wellbeing, to express myself as I am, and I wouldn’t unmake any of them if I was given a do-over of the whole deal. I am incredibly fucking tired however of being asked, repeatedly, if I hate all trans people, or if I really think all trans people are deluded. I have never voiced such an opinion in my life. If you believe in the slightest that detransitioning equals this ideology, then you are a victim of us-vs-them propaganda, and have fallen for a smear campaign. 

We are not a hivemind of transphobes out to ruin everyone’s access to HRT and surgery. I am an individual. I am partnered with a nonbinary person, and I will never be anything but ambiguous and gender non-conforming myself. I am so left on the political spectrum that the questionnaires that come with the Finnish elections each time around keep recommending the communist party for me to vote for. I would strangle Donald Trump with his own guts and shove Putin’s underwear down his shitty little windpipe and not think twice about it, and if you need an abortion, my house may be quite far away but it does have a spare bed open for you. 

I am not your terf sockpuppet. Detransitioners are not your right wing smear campaign, hellbent on criminalising the LGBT. We are you. None of us was more or less trans than any of the currently transitioning people are. We all have our own stories. We all come from our own circumstances. We all have our own circumstances. We all feel our own, unique ways about our transition journeys, as well as our detransition ones.

Please do not ostracise and abuse us because our stories seem scary to you. We are not your enemy.

[camthecatchameleon]

listened to Dream Sweet in Sea Major by Miracle Musical with Good Omens in mind right after binging the second season and actually /srs started tearing up

Edit: I made more!

Part 1 / Part 2 / ?

[theriverdalereviewer]

everyone jumping to team kamala we will never experience true freedom in this country

[giftedpoison]

yo pjo fans come get your author what the fuck was that post about palestine and israel. (i say this as if I'm not also a fan of the series)

(Like on one hand I'm glad he recognizes it is a genocide and that the palestinians deserve to be free. But this entire section is horrid:

"The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them." )

^ yes that is the link to the post in question. I think you can already see a less than tasteful element to the post (which i actually just noticed)

[orbmanson7]

:(

Very bad grade in therapy today

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Guess who feels guilty for not editing in a long while now that I've mentioned it in another post? 😶

Guess who's editing right now? 😅

[recitedemise]

❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ 

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬: no longer accepting.

Ah. "All the better if it's yours," Gale answers, eyes crinkling. "Hard as it is to believe, even the audience of the written word has its limits."

Right. He's part of a family now, isn't he? It's a generous term perhaps, overly fond in its dribbling sentiments, but with their months spent toiling with their piling struggles, what heartache they have shared in has tethered them close. They've grown aware of his habits, even acclimated bravely to his inspiring gab, and after several long nights of peculiar silence—well, someone, Eulalie was bound to come.

Her eyes are bright. There wades in them oceans. Gale turns to regard them, daring for a whisper the depths of their gaze as his journaling, his writing, lays utterly abandoned. Truthfully, not for the first time, he believes them a half-drown thing. He feels cloven by her company, she with a shadow like some mourning veil, and sat before her scrutiny with her inquisitive air, an adage bellows: like recognizes like. He—fidgets. "I'm well, if that's what you're wondering," Gale starts, Mystra's missive scrawled in his book. "No need to worry. It's rather in my nature, the occasional reclusing to humor my thoughts. If you're to give it name, call it a scholarly affliction." He closes his journal. "Quite normal, I assure you."

His tent is lit with an orb. The banshee sees the doomed.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

hey. if you play an instrument you're a musician okay. there is no level of ability you need to attain to call yourself a musician and anybody who tries to tell you otherwise is either completely full of themselves or just insecure about THEIR own ability (and very likely both). your elementary general music or middle / high school band / choir / orchestra teachers were there to help give you the tools to be a musician — so USE THEM! but what if its not perfect? the definition of "musician" is literally "someone who makes music". it doesnt have to be professional. it just has to be music

[tracle0]

So uh if you pirate books please just… don’t follow me ?