#not being respected as transgender and stuff and i had a Bad Interaction today but its like fine you know

[lumalalu]

IM HERE AND IM TRANS!!!!!!!!! RARARRWSRF!!!!!!!

[seven-oomen]

Hi Ben!  I see you’re still enjoying the absolute insanity that has gripped tumblr the last couple of days XD .  As someone who’s been a tumblr lurker for a number of years, this is hysterical enough from my side.  I can’t imagine the sheer ridiculousness of seeing it firsthand.  Virtually every blog I check, no matter if they’ve ever seen a SPN episode or not, has been posting about it.  It is WILD.

I feel like I’m at least a little lucky that I always skewed more ‘lock’ than anything (mainly because my 'who’ took a hard dive into Torchwood and never really recovered), so there’s less emotional flashbacks/richochets/rollercoastering/etc.  (Yes, I did in fact see the news about Sherlock season 5, but I never saw season 4 because of some of the feedback I heard before I got the chance to watch it, so it’ll take something truly impressive to draw me back now.)  Although in a roundabout way Sherlock is what eventually led me to Teen Wolf because of multi-focus blogs, so I guess I can thank it for that.

Work was one of those super fun days where the manager leaving not long after I got there was all “Yeah, it’s been really calm, and both deliveries so far have been small and should be easy to deal with."  So of course, about an hour after he leaves, four more pallets full of stuff show up, so I spent pretty much my whole shift trying to get everything checked in.  On the one hand, yay, less customers, on the other, hauling that shit around in a mask gets hot.

That dish sounds delicious, and definitely better than my sad lunch/dinner at work.  Ngl, I’m extremely jealous.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I cackled at that coffee shop guy post, because the sheer obliviousness demonstrated by the op throughout the story is almost the exact energy being displayed by Peter in my fake dating fic and seeing a story of it happening in RL about took me out.  XD

Also, I’m super curious what kinds of rituals you’re planning for the fic.  Good, bad, druidic, wolfy, pack, wedding, birth, sexy, friendship, binding, warding, ???  Inquiring minds want to know (whenever you are ready to share of course.  Inquiring minds can also be patient. ;D )

Oh, a funny moment at work!  I was picking up one of the pallets after I’d emptied it, and there was a knot in one of the boards that I almost knocked out as I grabbed it, and my brain’s immediate thought was "Whoops, almost just popped the knot on that wood”, immediately followed by the thought “Oh god, no, jesus christ, PHRASING, tonight of all nights, no."  (I am super sad that there is no one I work with that I could scream about this with.)

Anyway, I should wrap up because I need to leave for work soon.  Enjoy the continuing thrill ride that is this site, and best of vibes for any writing attempts today!  Take care!  *Hugs!*

Okay I’m gonna add the preview to your fic from your last message to this one so I have it all in one message here. Because after writing over 3K yesterday my brain is just really tired and I keep wanting to nap today. Haven’t done much and replying to two messages is a bit much. 

On the flip side, I did update Final Masquerade today and that chapter is almost 7K long. So yay!

Also, my fucking feelings while writing that. Jesus christ on a pogo stick.

And in the spirit of “Oh, did you say enemies-to-lovers?  Sorry, I heard idiots-to-lovers”, here is another preview from the fake dating fic, because I love this part, and it features the first appearance of Fashion Consultant Peter:

“Peter, what the hell are you doing in my closet?” Noah’s voice sounded like it was thankfully more bemused than annoyed, but Peter knew that it could be a fine line to walk.

“Trying not to cry in despair, for the most part. Why is everything you own at least a size too big and some shade of brown?” Peter called back over his shoulder, still staring at the somewhat neatly organized rainbow of dull, listless neutrals in growing dismay.

“I’m wearing a green shirt right now, asshole, and not all of us are interested in looking like we got squeezed into our clothing by force. Some of us actually acknowledge our age, and try to dress somewhat appropriately. Some of us also understand the value of blending in.”

“Okay, firstly, age, as they say, is just a number. Secondly, there’s trying not to stand out, and there’s just giving up. Though frankly, I’ve never quite put much stock in either.”

“Color me shocked to hear that from someone I’ve seen wear a cardigan like it was an actual shirt on more than one occasion.”

Peter shrugged as he continued to rifle through hangers and peek into storage containers, though he wasn’t certain that Noah could even see him from within the depths of the walk-in. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” The sigh that answered him held a level of long-suffering, begrudging patience that Peter was far more used to hearing directed at Stiles than himself.

—–

Why yes, there is indeed a trip suit shopping in the story.  Basically, I am cramming in every random obnoxiously trope-y thing I can remember from the few rom coms I’ve seen.  Also, there is so much food in this story.  Like, it’s ridiculous how often there someone ends up eating something.  I’m not even sure where it came from.

I’ve been reading this multiple times in the last few days, it’s just so cute! 

He’s in the closet huh? Is he gonna come out?

Sorry, sorry, I’ll can it XD 

And honestly, I think Tumblr’s 2012 insanity streak is the only thing keeping me sane right now. Because holy shit what a week.

I never really got into Sherlock myself or Doctor Who. I think I saw one episode of Dr. who (with David Tennant I think) and three episodes of Sherlock because my mom used to watch it.

I saw 12 seasons of Supernatural though, I definitely had an obsession with Destiel and particularly Dean Winchester. Fun fact; Cosplaying Dean made me comfortable enough to come out to my friends as transgender. Because I realized that I couldn't hide my gender even if I tried so hard for over 23 years.

And it was Supernatural that eventually led me to Teen Wolf. Well, that and Grimm, which was also a really fun show and really interesting.

Oh boy, yeah whenever a manager told me that I knew I was gonna be in for a very interesting night. For sure, sucks that you had to do that in a mask though. But on the other hand, no customer interaction does sound like it was a nice break in a way. And OMG I snorted!

It’s a good thing we don’t work together, I feel like the jokes wouldn’t have ended. My god I’m still snickering.

And omg, the last line post now has me nervous again because there are multiple options of who is saying whatever it is to whom, and all of them hurt.  XD  Also very here for the idea of a pack of three year-olds trying to pull a Parent Trap on their respective dads.  Is there a treehouse or playhouse they can lock them into to talk?  A moment of Jax and Stiles pointing out that they both agree on this, so they should know that it’s serious?  Trying to make them draw or write down why they’re sad, or whatever similar coping skills the dad usually has the kid use?  Trying to take away a treat of some sort/ground them from doing something/etc until they agree to talk to each other?  So many possibilities.

I do have a bit of an idea to have them go to the cinema with the kids and make them watch the parent trap, which of course leads to all sorts of shenanigans back at home where Allison and Malia are constantly trying to lock the dads in a room together, aided by Derek and Laura because Malia can’t reach the door handles just yet. Meanwhile Stiles and Jackson are coming up with increasingly elaborate schemes for two three-year-olds that involve their dads being locked in tree houses, sheds, and other places. Not to mention, the kindergarten pact.

And I like to think at some point the wives and Melissa start helping the kids as well. I mean I’d really like to build one giant polyamorous family for this fic.

[solitarykairos]

On Preferences and Transphobia

What I did: I wrote a small post about how while preferences aren’t inherently transphobic, it is transphobic to refuse to date someone purely because they are transgender.

What happened: a bunch of gross TERF blogs reblogged the post and added some lovely transphobic comments.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe they were just feeling salty today.

I blocked the TERFs (because first and foremost, I have to take care of my mental health and I would rather not engage in that kind of discourse right now) and deleted their comments on the original post. One of the TERFs left a long list of things that they were salty about on my post. Ironically, the comment was longer than the original post. Funny how that works.

So here’s some thoughts on that list, kids:

1. You’re correct, sexual orientations are not preferences. I could have worded that better, and I apologize. While preferences was not the correct word, what I meant was simply that some people have certain genitals that they would prefer not to interact with. As a lesbian, you would likely not want to have sex with someone who had a penis.

And, small caveat, if you did, that’s totally fine, too! Because sexuality is a fluid thing, and there are women who don’t have vaginas. There are *gasp* trans women! I know that sounds terrifying to you, but honey, trans women are women. It doesn’t matter what they have in their pants, they’re women, and if you sleep with a trans woman or date a trans woman, you’re still a lesbian, don’t you worry. You’re still valid, because, again, trans women are women. So off the bat, get used to the fact that in the year of our lord twentygayteen, we support all women.

2. Yes, gay men are attracted to the same sex. They are also attracted to the same gender, because sex and gender are different things. In my original post, I stated an example. Let me explain that a little further, because I don’t think you understood it. Let’s say there’s a gay man, and let’s call him Andy. Let’s say I told Andy I was AFAB, or assigned female at birth, and had not had any trans affirming surgeries. I would be absolutely okay if Andy told me he didn’t want to sleep with me. He knows the specific details of my situation. He took the time to ask and be fully informed before declining. We go our separate ways, and stay close friends because hey, Andy’s awesome. And, yes, this is a true story! Sometimes, in the real world, people are adults and respect other people enough to be affirming of their identities. And Andy is a feminist, but he’s no TERF.

However, let’s say that this gay man tells everyone that he would never date anyone who is transgender. Blanket statement. Boo, Andy. I know, in the original post, you took offense to my talk of genitalia. I’m sorry that bothered you so much, but in the real world with real adults, you have to talk about that kind of stuff, because it’s important to know your partner well if you’re planning to sleep with them. So Andy decides he’s never going to date anyone who’s trans. Andy doesn’t understand that there’s a wide range of genitalia in the trans community. There are trans men who’ve had every surgery imaginable, and have fully transitioned to the point where you couldn’t tell (and don’t come up in here saying that you can “always tell”, because I, a trans person who is well acquainted with all sorts of genitalia and all sorts of transgender surgeries and such, slept with a transgender man a couple weeks ago and I did. not. know. until after the fact.)

Later in your reply, you called this incel logic, which, ew. Can we not compare a young trans person’s logic to the logic of a group of generally homophobic rape-apologizers? But I digress. I’m not saying that a gay man should absolutely have to sleep with every trans person he comes across or he’s transphobic. I’m saying that, if this gay man says that he won’t sleep with anyone who’s trans JUST BECAUSE they are trans? That’s transphobic. You don’t know what genitals someone has, and assuming that every single trans man has a vagina is a bad game. I’m absolutely not saying that anyone should force themselves to have sex with someone they don’t want to have sex with, because they shouldn’t. I’m saying that trans women are women, trans men are men, and you need all the information of the situation before automatically assuming that because they’re transgender, you won’t be attracted to them.

Here’s another example, just in case that one was also a little too hard for you to understand. I have another gay male friend, we’ll call him Stanley. Stanley likes to sleep around, and he’s good at it. Stanley recently slept with a trans man, and he didn’t like it as much because the trans man had not had surgery. I asked him if he would continue to sleep with trans men after the experience, and he said yes, but he would have a conversation with them beforehand about sex, genitalia, and STI protection, because that would help him decide better whether he and his partner would have a good, safe, enjoyable time. Stanley, a gay man, knows that trans men are men. Stanley also knows that genitalia come in many shapes, sizes, and variations, and understands that while he’s not attracted to vaginas, not. every. trans. man. has. a. vagina. And therefore, Stanley knows that he shouldn’t exclude trans men as an entire group.

3. This may be a revolutionary thought, but if you’re a gay man and you date a woman, you might not be gay. If you’re a lesbian and you date a man, you might not be a lesbian. And, because trans women are women and trans men are, in fact, men, guess what?

I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

4. Sure. You can call me obsessed with genitals. That’s fine. As a trans person, I am obsessed with genitals. Wanna know why? Because I care about the people that I choose to have sex with. I care about informing them what they’re getting. I care about them informing me what I’m getting. If we don’t talk about genitals, if we don’t talk about sex, if we don’t talk about STIs and safe practices and contraception, someone’s going to end up getting hurt. And nope. Again, not incel logic. I’m not saying that anyone has to give me a chance in bed because I’m trans. I’m saying that if a person says that they won’t have sex with anyone who’s trans, that is a transphobic comment. Because, as we’ve already gone over multiple times, not every trans person has the same genitalia, or the genitalia you expect us to have.

Also, for the other TERF who commented that I’m probably a virgin-first of all, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, dude. Get off your old fashioned horse drawn carriage and stop shaming people who haven’t had sex. Secondly, I’ve done and continue to do sex work, so of all people, I’m pretty sure I know what I’m talking about when it comes to sex and genitalia.

5. Pump the brakes, buddy. If I were a less nice person, this is where I’d get mean. I am not a woman. I am a transmasculine person. My pronouns are not ““new””, they’re the pronouns that fit me the best. On that note, I’m not heterosexual either. I’m bisexual. I like men and women.

And you wanna talk about gay men and conversion therapy? You wanna talk about how you somehow think that, because I’m not a gay man or a lesbian woman, because I exist somewhere else on the queer spectrum, that I haven’t faced discrimination? Not that being gay should ever be a fucking discrimination marathon, but I’ve fucking been in shitty situations because of my queerness. When I came out to my parents, they told me not to come home again. I was homeless for a period of time this summer and was blessed enough to sleep on a friend’s couch. I’ve been yelled at, I’ve had people ask me what went wrong in my childhood, I’ve had letters written to the president of my university asking why I’m leading a group that makes being queer seem like an okay thing.

The last line of your post really tells me what I need to know, though. “shut the fuck up bc nobody asked you”. You’re right. You’re right, nobody asked me. Nobody asked Marsha P. Johnson. Nobody asked Harvey Milk. Nobody asked any of the other countless people who’ve given their entire lives over to make sure that people like us have the ability to walk the streets without fear. Nobody asked them, and yet? They spoke up anyways.

If you think that I’m going to shut my mouth and live in shame because people like you don’t like the fact that I, a transgender person, can live openly and with pride now, you’ve got another thing coming.

You’re right, nobody asked me. That’s exactly why I’m still talking.

[blueradiokid-blog1]

the story of my gender and its links to mental illness and stuff

Hey guys. I’d just like to put up a trigger warning for a lot of stuff. If you think you may be in danger or triggered if you read this, then please don’t and if you ever need someone to talk to about that then message me. I’d be more than happy to help you.

When I was six, someone asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I didn’t really know what job I wanted to have at the time, but I knew one thing: I wanted to be a boy. So I said: “I want to be a boy” which scared the hell out of my mom. She’s really not accepting of anyone in the LGBT community, but she tries to respect them anyways (even though I have a feeling she’s not actually trying). From a really young age, I knew I was interested in girls more than boys (I did end up developing one boy crush in my life, but it really wasn’t serious at all) and at that time, even though gay marriage had been legal in Canada for a long time, nearly everyone I knew looked down on that and anything other than straight and cis. I started developing self esteem issues about that in grade three when I had a crush on my best friend (who later abandoned me) up until grade seven (that was when she started hating me because I cut my hair and “made her uncomfortable with my boyish manor”). Basically, when I started trying to be myself and working on self love, she hated me for it and grade seven was when my plans of trying to be a normal teenager all came to a crashing halt.

For the longest time, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Not wanting to be a girl even though I was born that way. I didn’t know what transgender was. In grade six, I discovered it and realized that that was the name for what I was. At the time, there was also a trans boy in my school. He was like, my mentor, even though I only spoke with him like, once in the two years he was at my school (he’s a year older than me, he graduated last year). My uncle came over one day and I told him about the boy at my school. He said that it’s a totally normal and okay thing and he explained that he knew a boy who had a girl body, but the mind of a boy. My mom told me that that’s not natural and it’s not okay. I asked her why, and she said it’s because boys can’t have girl bodies. I argued with her for a long time and eventually gave up, and shortly after that is when I found out what trans was online. I finally knew what I was, but I felt horrible about it because I knew that the majority of my family would hate me for it.

This is where things start getting ugly. On December 27th, 2014, I noticed I was, er...developing. I remember the day because I cried. I was convinced that because I was a boy mentally and emotionally, somehow I wouldn’t go through girl puberty. It was at a party, too, and I cried in the washroom for like, ten minutes and cried more when I got home. I started binding with duct tape and ace bandage which let me say, IS NOT SAFE AT ALL. DON’T BIND WITH DUCT TAPE OR ACE BANDAGE! Anyways, back to the story. I was already suffering from severe anxiety, but this made everything worse. I spiraled into a bottomless pit of depression in seventh grade because my dysphoria was getting worse and worse the older I got. I hated everything about myself. I had long hair and I was forced to wear clothes I didn’t feel comfortable in. I started cutting myself which was possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. When that started to happen, I tried making myself happy. I cut my hair shorter to my shoulders and that made me feel a bit better (I wanted to go shorter but my mom wouldn’t let me at the time), but what made me really down was that friend I liked. She stopped talking to me because I cut my hair and I was depressed. And that made me even more depressed.

November rolls around and I’m really, really sad. I started hiding my tools in my wallpaper. I became so addicted to punishing myself that I brought them to school and hid them in my multiple sports bras so I could cut in the boy’s bathroom stalls. Yes, I did get away with it. One day my mom went on a rant about how much it upset her that young people feel the need to change their gender and they must be mentally ill, and that was when I really broke. That same night she even found out I’d been binding. I waited till everyone was asleep that night and tried killing myself. Everything went downhill from there, especially in December. I’d also stopped eating from the loss of appetite and body insecurity and ended up fainting in math class. I regularly fell asleep in that class because of sleep deprivation and boredom, so I guess everyone just thought it was that. Please take care of your body, it’s the only one you have and the only one you ever will get. 

In December, I tried to stop cutting. But of course, I didn’t succeed. I stopped talking for a long time, in fear of a Freudian slip and because I hated how I sounded like a girl. I got even worse and I was really mad I made the suicide attempt. On December 27th that year, I tried cutting off my breasts with a goddamn kitchen knife. The day was timed intentionally. It hurt so damn badly that it hurts just thinking about it. There were noticeable scars on the sides and bottom and it didn’t make me feel any better about anything. I’ve since used scar cream and very shockingly, it’s barely noticeable, but I’ll never forget it, even if there’s no scar. In this month I also started using nutmeg to get high. I even smoked it once when no one was home. I was twelve and already addicted to some sort of drug. My addiction to nutmeg is still something I’m struggling with, but I’m really trying to stop.

Then it was 2016. I was determined to be happy. I started joining LGBT support forums and looking to things online for comfort and it really helped. I even had this internet friend that I was insanely in love with who helped me through a lot and in January, I stopped cutting (thank god). To this day, they’re one of my best friends in the universe (ily my friend, you know who you are). March was a pretty crappy month for me though. I didn’t really have many real life interactions. But March is a month that means something to me for two reasons: 1. a lot changed and 2. it’s the month MCR broke up (cries). In March, I decided to ignore my mom about my hair situation and whip out the scissors and cut my hair all short and emo-like. I intentionally cut it bad so that she would take me to a hair dresser to get it cut even shorter. Surprisingly, she didn’t hate me for it.

Summer was crap. The hot weather made it uncomfortable to bind and the only shorts that fit me and didn’t make me awfully dysphoric were capris. I totally hermit-ed it out. I mean, it could have been worse, but I just got really sad from everything.

The end of 2016 is when things started getting better. I found friends who accepted and supported me in my gender confusion (I recently came out as gender queer and gynesexual) and I love them for that. The bump in the road that I had to wherever I am now was in January when I tried killing myself again on the day that marked me a year clean. Gotta start counting again I guess -_- But that’s not the point of why I’m writing this.

I’m writing this because today I felt awfully dysphoric and I hated everything about myself once again. But I looked at how far I’ve come. It’s been over a year since I tried transitioning. I’m still sad a large amount of the time but hey- at least I’m not sad all the time anymore. 

To anyone out there struggling, trans or cis or anything: there’s more to life than being sad. There’s more to life than following what you’re told to do or what you were assigned in life or at birth in fear of disappointing other people which I’m honestly still struggling with, but I’m trying. I really am. There’s more to life than hating yourself and down-talking everything you do and avoiding people because you’re too scared to speak, whether that be anxiety or because you hate how it sounds or both. Your voice is important and it’s the only one you have. So use it. You have the power to speak up and stand up for what is right and to be yourself, you’ve just got to find it underneath all the rubble.