#not like viscerally disgusting to myself and others

[qyriaha]

really i need to stop with the eventually i'll get my shit together and at some point i'll be like remotely a person worth anything

[beifong-brainrot]

So um. I genuinely don't have many thoughts on the live action atla. It looks fine.. i guess

Except. Zuko's scar.

It's so... underwhelming. Like yeah it's there. It's red and it has a little bit of texture. But I guess i was hoping the live action would make it a little more prominent.

Like I'm a burn victim myself, who very much went through a similar struggle Zuko did. Where i felt like my scars define me. This. This feels not like what i hoped for. They even let him keep his eyebrow 😤

And I'm hoping that it's just because it wasn't practical to go all out with it. Like it was too expensive to put full prosthetics and special effects on such a young actor for every shoot.

But i have this sinking feeling in my gut that its because he's 'meant to be attractive'. Or even more heartbreakingly, that making it bigger would be considered too 'gory' or 'body horror'.

And im just tired of seeing scars and other 'deformities' as being seen as something to only be shown in full capacity in horror movies. That it would be too visceral or too 'gross' to fully show. It reinforces the idea that people like Zuko, people like me have something inherently disgusting and ugly about us. That our features have to be toned down in order to be palatable to a wider audience.

I remember seeing Zuko for the first time as a kid and seeing a part of myself that was rarely represented. I was bullied for my skin grafts as a child. Of course i was, kids are cruel. But seeing Zuko go through the struggles i went through and to have him find people who didn't treat him differently was so important to me. Like to me, that part of his story was arguably more important than his redemption arc.

And seeing Zuko seen as attractive by people in the fandom was also a profound experience. Because it felt like i could too exist in my full burnt chicken nugget glory and still be treated as a full person. Not looked at with pity or disgust.

So that's why live action Zuko's scar is such a disappointment to me.

I have other thoughts on the atla remake but really, they don't matter that much, since i don't think ill be watching it

[dolphin-diaries]

Detrans/Uncis (Part 2)

Originally published on Dolphin Diaries.

My first steps on a detransition journey were underscored by a peculiar mantra: “but I’m not detransitioning though.” I don’t feel like a man, so I’m not a trans man, but I’m still taking hormones, so I’m not detransitioning. I’m getting laser, but I’m not doing anything to my voice—hold on, actually I am. I’m lowering my dose of testosterone, actually, but I’m still taking it, and it’s not like I’m a woman. Only I want to be gendered by strangers as a woman, but that’s different. Actually I’d hate to have any further changes from T, so I’m not taking it at all—but I’m still not detransitioning though. Actually, could you speak of me as she? And her, too? No detrans though.

At a certain point it started to approach total absurdity. My friends and loved ones, well-versed in the queer gender soup, said nothing of it, but I am myself strongly averse to repression, denial, and self-deceit. So I was the first to say I was wrong. The first to say, “I am, though.” And at no point, from the beginning to the end of my epistemic conga, have I encountered any meaningful pushback from my close circles. No implications of betrayal, no cold shoulders, no silence when I walk in the room.

So why the mantra, then? Why was I so averse to the idea?

A large part of that was the politicisation of detransition; how indelibly it is associated with the Right—I said as much in my first essay. On a personal level, though, it was trivial to realise I wasn’t doing a grift. I was confident I hadn’t been brainwashed into anything. I’ve never had any meaningful contact or affiliation with any sort of gender-conservative person or movement.

And I did encounter pro-trans detransitioners. Some of them sniped back at the right-wing ones, some merely told their stories independently. Regardless, they—just like me—did not receive great or meaningful pushback from their trans friends, nor even strangers. They weren’t always understood or necessarily celebrated, but they were taken at their word, believed, and more or less respected as much as any gender deviant. Before I had any thoughts to detransition myself, I had seen detrans people beyond the pale of the rhetoric multiple times, and…

And I hated them. They made my skin crawl. I was never rude or condescending, and as those encounters were online-only, it was trivial to maintain respect and civility. I also realised I had no real cause to hate them. They’d done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. It was easy enough to say that in principle, when they talked in the abstract, but when they spoke of their bodies, their lives, the flesh and blood of it all, I felt such visceral revulsion as I might’ve never felt before.

Or have I? Have I known this already, this knee-jerk lip curl, this morbid disgust with another’s aberrant sex? This idea in my mind, spreading like cancer, that these people were wrong? That they’ve violated something inviolable? And how civility and compassion chiselled this violent core into arrogant pity towards an untouchable other?

No, I have known this. And not such a long time ago.

The Body Horror

When I first came out as trans to my university class—cis-majority if not totality, naturally—the perverse fascination with my body was hard to escape. They were mostly polite, of course. My university was very ‘decadent Westian’ (pardon the quasi-inside joke). We were hip with it. Nevertheless—

“It’s okay for you, of course, but if my future children—”

“You mean to say you date women? How do you—”

“You mean to say you date men??”

 “I wasn’t looking at you like that in the bathroom—I mean—uh—”

You don’t need to say it outright. Sometimes you don’t need to say a thing at all. I see it. I know.

That’s to say nothing of the doctors’ dehumanising dissection and the conservatives flashing the least flattering post-operative pictures like they’re gore. As a transsexual, you don’t even need dysphoria; you will be informed of your physical monstrosity in great detail and in every possible manner, from the subtlest glance to the bloody megaphone.

You learn to see transsexual bodies this way very young and not voluntarily, but I was not just any random person. I transitioned aeons ago, and I did not find the flesh of my fellow transsexuals a subject of psychosexual fascination anymore. We were just people. I’d learned that.

I thought I did, anyway.

That’s the thing about the biases that systemic oppression seeds and wields. They are, in my experience, nothing less than psychosocial cancers. Leave one cell alive, and they will surely regrow. Maybe into a new shape, maybe into something old, but they will never die left alone.

Although I’d mentally graduated to gender abolition and genderfuckery-as-political-stance, to activism, to gender constructivism and to queering everything, especially feminism, I’d first come to see transsexuality through the lens of the DSM. Not my fault or anything—that’s what was available to me. Transsexual transition, then, was first presented to me as a linear transformation, a path from A to B, at the end of which laid gender nirvana. Or, like, happiness and fulfilment, I suppose. White-people Buddhism was fashionable at that time, so please excuse my French.

So genderfuckery was all well and good, but you know, done respectably. For me, that was performing picture-perfect transsexuality, just a little spiced-up. So long as I still appeared cis. Anything that marked me as ‘clocky’ was unseemly; although I no longer needed to see any doctors about it, I’d been trained to sniff out such features and weed them out for the sake of gaining medical access. But that’s not the only way ‘respectable gender’ is ensured in queer circles. I’ve also observed it to be an absence of transsexuality. That is, gender is to be fucked with in words and pronouns and haircuts and porn—but to transition about it would be kind of gauche, don’t you think? A little gender-conformist?

Different outcome, but for the purposes of this discussion, same principle: it is disgust with transition. Visible transition, obvious transition; transition at all. My case was not altogether different from ideological non-transitioners; it was just modified to accommodate for some alteration of sex.

After nearly a decade of virilising HRT, my detransition wasn’t simply a matter of changing my name and putting on lipstick. That would just make strangers say ‘yas gurl.’ No, if I wanted to live as a woman beyond my immediate social circle, I needed to make more invasive changes. More than that, I wanted those changes. I didn’t merely wish to say I’m a woman—I wanted to look in the mirror and believe it.

The first truth a detransitioner learns is this: to detransition, you must transition again.

Again?!

Oh, it’s not the same as your first time ‘round, sure. Not just because of the difference in desired sex; if you’ve never had your gonads removed and have no prior issues with hormone production, you can simply cease to take HRT and stop depending on the vagaries of medical supplies. Doctors will, generally, be a little more understanding of your desire to change sex. Often, from their perspective, you’re not changing it; you’re fixing it. So if you were allowed to take the so-called ‘cross-sex’ hormones, you’ll probably be allowed the ‘same-sex’ ones. Conversely, because no such thing as a ‘detransition procedure’ usually exists, it’s a dice roll if any surgery will be covered by the state, your insurance, or anything. Yes, you’re ‘fixing’ your sex—but the fact you’ve ‘damaged’ it at all renders you a bit of an unreliable witness to your own mind. A little bit crazy, you could say. Isn’t it all quite literally your own fault?

However, the day-to-day mundanities of detransition would be highly recognisable to any trans person. Indeed, I got all the ideas on how to relieve my gender dysphoria from my transfem friends. I learned of laser hair removal from them, and they advised me on voice training. Some of the professionals that serviced me had no idea I was detrans—how would they? Kind of an odd thing to randomly bring up while getting your beard fried.

‘Detrans woman’ is not a legible social category (nor any other kind of detrans person). People know what these words mean—at least, if they’re up on the latest gender lingo—but they don’t truly know what that looks like. Maybe they imagine a particular grifter when you say ‘detrans,’ maybe it’s just a void—but it’s never you. No one will ever assume that’s what you are.

So how does a detrans woman move through the world? She passes, of course. She is either assumed to be a cis woman, having worked to file off any signs of testosterone’s magic touch, or she stands out with those features. If she transitioned after adolescence, she might have a leg up on passing, but should a stranger’s transvestigation radar starts beeping, they will surely scan her for other hints. Sometimes they’ll find what was never there, and sometimes they’ll decree a feature that occurs in all women, cis and trans, a sure sign of inborn manhood. I’ve always had a visible Adam’s apple, for instance, but it didn’t use to be proof I was born a man. Now, though, take that and a bad voice day, and I don’t have a leg to stand on.

And if someone decides I don’t belong in a women’s bathroom, do you think it’ll help if I cry I was born to piss here?

Here’s the second truth a detransitioners learns: it doesn’t matter how many times you transition, to what end or for what reason. If you do it at all, you will never be cis again. It’s the real red pill—the one the Wachowski sisters intended, not what the chuds on the internet made of it. Your body, your social and legal history, your continuity of self—it is different now. Not the way it’s supposed to be. Changing sex at all was never meant to be.

Regime and Treachery

Um-actuallying people who think I’m a trans woman will not help me under most circumstances. It won’t help with a strange man in an alley, and it won’t help with an employer that discovers my last manager knew me under a male name. In one case nothing but a good run will help, and in the other—come on now, they won’t think any better of me.

It will not make me cis, and it doesn’t help—under most circumstances.

Detrans women aren’t the only ones which may be assumed for trans women. Cis women that never touched a drop of testosterone get transvestigated too—not nearly as frequently, but it happens all the same, and regularly. The case of Imane Khelif is one that probably jumps to mind first these days, but she is perhaps in the minority of women that never responded to such accusations by loudly proclaiming she is completely and utterly unlike those filthy transsexuals—she is a real woman!

Detrans women have the whole transsexuality thing in common with trans women, of course. But they aren’t quite the only ones—intersex women that were assigned female at birth are also often assumed to be transsexual. They are also subject to severe medical violence and neglect. Some require exogenous hormones to stay healthy. Some wish to take ownership of their body via voluntary sex alteration, for a change. It is rather transsexual-like, all in all.

But yet you will not search long to find similar underbus-throwing. The AFAB intersex woman is not like that trans woman—she deserves gender-affirmative treatment. She’s a real woman. The birth certificate said so.

And so too the detrans woman, despite all her history, despite the indelible mark of transsexuality, looks at the dangling carrot of Real Womanhood—and like a dog, jumps.

She will never be allowed the full extent of it. It is irreversible damage, after all. That’s important. The detrans woman that betrays her sisters—her class, even—must forever cry about the wounds transition left on her, must never heal from them. And trust me, the cis aren’t nice about it behind her back. The detrans woman is promised a shred of cis-ness, of real-ness—but only so long as she divorces herself from all things transsexual. Loudly, repeatedly. The moment she stops, she will be reminded: she too is transsexual. She has seen sex/gender for what it is; her body is evidence. She has eaten of the tree of knowledge. It’s only at the regime’s great mercy that she can peek into Eden—but god forbid, never enter.

Because what would happen if the ‘damage’ wasn’t irreversible? If society allowed the detrans woman to be a woman wholly and totally—its woman, real woman? Why, it would mean sex can be changed without repercussion. It would mean you could leave gender.

It wouldn’t quite mean that trans women are women and trans men are men—it would only allow that your birth sex can be ‘returned to.’ But if even that much was permitted, it would make transition no longer a threat. You could do it and come back just fine, see? What’s there to fear? Why not just try it? And if you can just try it, just leave and come back as you please—how can you force people to obey gender?

It would mean I could opt out of womanhood any time. Of the mandate of reproduction, of subordination, of sexual and domestic servitude—of the constant fight to break free of those things. I could opt out even if I didn’t like being a man. I’d always have one foot back in the door, if I pleased. And that’s the thing about the patriarchy: women must never be allowed to leave. Or to desist, or to fail. For that they must be punished. Want fewer lashes? Kick the weaker bitch out the door.

Cis-ness is a regime. A status quo. To define it merely by the relationship to birth-assigned sex is erroneous—intersexness reveals this, but if you’re the kind of person who thinks the intersex are some sort of rare and bizarre exception (they’re not), perisex detransitioners must surely hammer the nail home. To be cis is not merely to self-identify as the sex on your birth certificate; who’s even looking at those? It is to live in accordance with your biological destiny, and every social law that entails. This destiny is assigned at birth, yes, but it does not end there: it follows you all the way.

Cis-ness is not an identity—it is a reward for doing as you’re told.

The Freedom of Sex

It is obvious, then, why detrans medical care is a pain to get even though you’re complying with your birth sex assignment. That is the true engineer of detrans misery, of dysphoria and resentment. To come to dislike the features you’ve acquired during transition is one thing—but to be prevented from changing them? To be looked at like a lunatic? To not know what to do, because information about de/transition and how it works is so understudied and obscured?

If transition was easy, known, free—more people would detransition, certainly. But that wouldn’t mean much. Because they’d be people like anyone else. Their bodies—transsexual bodies—would be just the same, just as worthy. They would be real.

The implications are even greater than that. Freedom of sex, as Andrea Long Chu puts it, means a freedom to change anything about your sex, in any way, for any reason, without restriction. Not the A->B path I was first taught under the illusion of two wholly distinct, non-intersecting sexes—rather, the tweaking of individual aspects. It is to really examine how sex works and take it apart on your person. It is what some trans people already do, with microdosing and what you might call small acts of detransition. If you don’t like the beard after T, why not zap it off? If you want to be on oestrogen but don’t like the breasts—double mastectomy works just the same regardless of initial sex. The idea of customisable, ‘nonbinary’ transition is one that’s gained prominence in recent years, even as attacks on all transition have exponentially increased.

Linear transition was written in an attempt to enforce a kind of gender austerity. Only those that really need it can get it, and so there must be competition, a hierarchy of haves and have-nots. There must be doctors that will prescribe you wrong dosages based on irrelevant research and leave you to wonder why you feel so off. You must not pick and choose the changes you want, because your sex is not for you to decide—it is to be granted to you, justified via a constant defense of self-identification. For the crime of violating sex/gender, your autonomy is branded as harebrained desire until proven otherwise. You’re not allowed to simply want something; you have to need it, hence the attempts to naturalise and essentialise transsexuality—you have to be real, you have to be born with it.

Above all you must be kept in the dark and hurting, so that any time someone suggests anything as ‘frivolous’ as the freedom to have their body as they wish, you snipe back: Shut up, vapid idiot! You’re going to hurt yourself in your stupidity! I’m not like you—I’m the one who’s really hurting!

To look at de/transition from the perspective of liberation is to ask: why? What’s the austerity for? We have the hormones, the surgeries, almost all the treatments we want, and the science isn’t calling it quits tomorrow last I checked. What horrible thing are we preventing by stopping people from doing to their sex whatsoever they wish? Are we running out of gender juice?

But of course, I already told you why. A smarter woman than me has also written extensively why. It is because sex and gender come with a fine print, a set of prescripts, which must be enforced. Irreversible damage to fertile wombs must not be allowed. The pedestal of Man must not be tarnished.

Freedom of sex, then, is the patriarchy’s anathema.

Detransition is part of freedom of sex. To accept acts of detransition as neutral is to allow that changes wrought by transition—just like naturally developed sexual characteristics—can be changed at will. Even disliked. To be free is to embrace the possibility of discontent, too; to allow oneself to do something you may regret later, and to be free to go back. To accept that nothing is final. Finality is one of the ways transition is made more difficult than it needs to be: you must be sure, must be happy with what you get—or else, it is argued, you never had a real need for it anyway.

That is plainly not true. I know that from my own example.

Transition served me well way back when. I do not know of an extant, realistic alternative that could’ve helped me as effectively. I was happy with my transition for years, and suicidally discontent before then. So who cares if transitioning proved in the end an imperfect permanent solution for me? Why must transition be held to perfection and permanence before it is allowed? It worked and it saved my life—who are you to tell me I shouldn’t have done it? And who are you to hold me hostage to it?

What if, even now, I enjoy that I’ve been constructed rather than simply born?

Not So Fast

Now that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I can feel the gender nirvana coming on already.

Unfortunately, it can’t be that simple. To dream of a world you want, you must first contend with the world you already live in.

There’s a particular aspect that’s been largely absent from my essays so far: forced detransition and conversion therapy. In part, that’s because I argue from the perspective of a willing detransitioner with no shadow of a right-wing past or influence; a viewpoint which is lacking in the public conscience. Plenty of trans writers and thinkers already staunchly argue against forced detransition. They omit the detrans by virtue of either irrelevance or ignorance or both. When voluntary detransition is mentioned, people tend to merely point out there’s not that many of us. In actuality there’s very little statistical research to give definitive numbers, but it’s certainly true we are the minority of transitioners, and the absence of statistical evidence only further confirms: the Right are pulling numbers out of thin air.

Except, saying that is missing the point. The Right never cared about numbers. Or facts. Or logic. Their argument is that willing detransition ought to be the nail in the coffin for transition. If you retort that, um actually, there’s only half as many willing detransitioners, you still concede we exist and are a contradiction to you. That is enough to prove the Right’s point. I, therefore, wish to argue we are not a contradiction to trans rights or existence, but in fact on a continuum with both. That by virtue of our needs and lived realities, we are trans. Differently trans, but trans nonetheless. Some (trans and detrans) may not enjoy that assertion for a number of reasons, but the empirical fact is that we are irrevocably cast out of cis-ness, and we are in need of support structures that are near-identical to those of trans people. If by every function we are trans, then it’s under that name that we should be understood, because it is the only thing that makes sense and yields results.

But.

Detransition is not a neutral act in practice, even if it has the potential to be. Just like transition isn’t. Both are politicised, and the nature of detransition’s politicisation diverges from that of transition quite sharply.

In the current political climate, as trans people are being denied medical care and the anti-trans rhetoric pollutes every information space, this cannot be avoided or denied. Transition is reviled, and detransition is said to be the cure and is wielded as a punishment. Detransition-as-sex-freedom cannot be understood without also grappling with the other two kinds of detransition I distinguish based on motive and emergent needs: forced and coerced.

Forced detransition is the simplest to define. It is detransition that occurs when circumstances necessitate it as the only possible course of action, or it is altogether done unto the transitioner without any pretense of choice. The starkest example is, say, the new law in Florida which forcibly detransitions the incarcerated. But it needn’t be so wholly dystopian to qualify as ‘forced.’ Detransitions due to family or peer pressure, poverty, lack of access, or social isolation are all forced in nature, even if in the most technical sense you made the ‘choice’ to undergo it. If you wish you were still transitioning, it is forced.

Coerced detransition is a grayer area. It is motivated by an individual’s choice—not a lack of one or a pseudo-choice, as above—under circumstances in which transition is possible, but highly discouraged. You will naturally recognise conversion therapy as an extreme example, but it needn’t be so blatant. Often it isn’t.

Say, for instance, your closest circle of friends regards transition as a frivolous neoliberal excess. Or, let’s say, your cis boyfriend is perfectly happy you’re a man now, he swears, but—well, he’s not gay, you know? Just for you. It’s different with you. Except he still treats you the same way he did before your transition—but that’s a good thing, right? Good thing he still wants you at all? He would probably prefer a girlfriend, and he’s never dated men—actually, is this whole thing really that important to you? Aren’t you rushing into things? Do you really know what you want? You don’t mind if he slips up on pronouns when you’re not in the room, do you? 

Or maybe your general practitioner keeps insisting any time anything is wrong with you, that it’s the hormones’ fault. The classic ‘trans broken arm’ syndrome. And when something actually might be wrong with the hormones, the solution is always to just stop HRT altogether. And the surgeries—they’re just so dangerous; look at how horrifying post-op pictures are! It’s just biology, just facts, which don’t care about your feelings (but remember: it’s only a fact if it makes you feel worse.)

In other words, the decision to go through coerced detransition is made in a state of reduced agency, often caused by social pressure and/or misinformation about transition. Nothing is explicitly preventing you from doing as you will to your sex—and so it is precisely your will which must be subverted and undermined.

Notice that I make no claim whether detransition is right or wrong for the person in question. Perhaps they would’ve arrived at this decision another way, perhaps not. The point is, they are led to believe detransition is simply more sensible, healthier, better. It is the superior choice—so of course, they make it. In the end, coerced detransition is not truly dissimilar from the forced kind. What merits it separate consideration is that it’s designed to make you relinquish your own judgement, and your very own sense of self. Under such conditions, even if you would’ve ultimately detransitioned regardless, your relationship to your sex/gender is made maladaptive, and your independence as an individual is maliciously compromised.

The needs of coercively and forcibly detransitioned people are closely aligned. The forcibly detransitioned, naturally, require that the circumstance which necessitated their detransition is removed, and that their retransition is facilitated and supported. The coercively detransitioned may or may not require the same thing—some detrans people do, in fact, discover they genuinely desire detransition in less-than-ideal circumstances—but what they certainly need is a pathway to recovery from conversion. They are to be given their agency back, as well as access to accurate information about transition and transitioners, so that they are free to make the choice to retransition or to keep detransitioning as they see fit.

Both cases run counter to detransition-as-sex-freedom, to voluntary detransition—which is to say, a choice made due to a shift in self-perception, under circumstances in which continued transition is unhindered. The needs of a voluntary detransitioner are also starkly different, and most resemble that of a transitioner. A voluntary detransitioner requires a facilitated pathway to sex modification and gender recognition, from hormones to surgeries to legal procedure. It is the same thing for which trans people fight; it need only be recognised that voluntary detransitioners are part of that fight.

Grouping voluntary and involuntary detransitioners under the same umbrella makes little sense. We may superficially share some experiences, but such an equation falls apart from the perspective of rights and needs; it obfuscates motive, absolves abusers and systemic injustice, and it smooths over radical differences in our stories and perspectives. It draws a false equivalence that either condemns voluntary detransition or celebrates forced and coerced detransition, thus making it impossible to either embrace or reject detransition in good conscience. Thus no progress can be made.

In other words, conflation of voluntary and involuntary detransition only works from the cis perspective—from the perspective of the regime, which observes its deviants and wishes them gone, and rejects understanding them on principle. From either the trans or the detrans perspective, it is nonsense.

Except…

How do you know, though? How do you know? How do you know, when everything from your very cradle is telling you trans people are aberrant for existing, and when trans life is so hard? The coercively detransitioned wholeheartedly claim total autonomy; they are not really lying; from a strictly liberal-minded perspective, they are not wrong. How exactly can continued transition be ‘unhindered’ when society is engineered to always make it difficult?

How do you really know it’s your choice and your choice alone?

We all realise the answer: you don’t. You can’t. Not with complete certainty. There’s no such thing as a pure, unadulterated, individual choice, and there’s very rarely such a thing as an unhindered transition.

We live in a world that reviles transsexuality, that denies and despises the mutability of sex and stamps out any proof that gender is smoke and mirrors. The regime of cisheterosexism seeps through every layer of society and through every aspect of life. Purely voluntary detransition is, in the strictest sense, impossible. Sex/gender is a regime, and no act under it is free; all are forced to exist and be legible within its framework, or else be totally exiled. To exist socially is to exist under sex/gender.

This is not whatsoever unique to detransition. Or detrans people, or trans people. Cis women, for instance, must grapple with what it means to be a woman when Woman is defined as subordinate to Man—even as most do not transition about it. So, too, do men grapple with what their gender means when Manhood is defined and enforced via violence towards women, other men, and the gender-deviant. Even the cissexual must contend with the demands placed on their bodies—almost all transsexual treatments originate in cissexual healthcare. There is no exit from this struggle, because patriarchal sex/gender is constructed to be all-encompassing and mutually exclusive. Woman is everything Man isn’t, and vice versa; never the twain shall meet, and no stone will they leave unturned. No matter what you do, it will be sexed, it will be gendered, and though the conclusion will shift from occasion to occasion, in any particular instance it will allow for no ambiguity. Even when someone yells at you on the street, “Are you a chick or a dude?!”—that is not ‘ambiguity.’ It’s just a longer version of a slur.

Similarly, this is not the first (nor the last) time when sex/gender alteration has been contorted and weaponised against transsexuality—that is, sex-mutability’s most blatant, most acute manifestation. The Cass Review has notably cited the existence of non-transitioning nonbinary individuals as ‘proof’ transition must be curtailed:

“Secondly, medication is binary, but the fastest growing group identifying under the trans umbrella is non-binary, and we know even less about the outcomes for this group. Some of you will also become more fluid in your gender identity as you grow older. We do not know the ‘sweet spot’ when someone becomes settled in their sense of self, nor which people are most likely to benefit from medical transition. When making life-changing decisions, what is the correct balance between keeping options as flexible and open as possible as you move into adulthood, and responding to how you feel right now?”

Doubtless, the Gender Criticals wish the nonbinary non-transitioner to be as non-existent as their more deviant sibling. But while a greater deviant still exists, those that happen to be more acceptable, more assimilate-able, are called upon to do the one thing they’re good for:

Kick the weaker bitch out.

Such too is the final fate of detransitioners under the patriarchal regime. They are to be the knife in the back of their siblings, and when those are gone, they will find their own backs perforated.

So far I have provided eloquent arguments towards clear and singular conclusions—at least, I hope you’ve found me eloquent and clear. Today, on this matter, I offer no such thing. I have nothing to offer but this: so long as transition is reviled, so long as the transsexual are persecuted in any manner at all, there is no freedom of sex and there is no neutrality. Insofar as this pertains to detransition: so long as the transsexual are persecuted, hated, and forced into obscurity, we are likewise bound to their persecution, hatred, and abandonment. So long as that holds, voluntary detransition can never be free.

What Now?

I know. I’m a killjoy. It’s a fate all serious anarchists and college dropouts must contend with: if we’re really sincere about what we think, the mood will be thoroughly murdered.

The fight is clear. The fight is needed. And, the fight is hard. But there is life to be lived in the meanwhile, and it’s worth living even if we don’t see a victory during our time. Total certainty may be impossible and foolish to seek—but you have to make choices anyway. Doing nothing is merely choosing passivity and inertia; you face the consequences either way.

So I ask again: how do you know?

If you’re someone contemplating detransition, here’s the second best thing I can offer: have the courage, the self-insight, and the compassion to face yourself and be honest. Have the intelligence and the disobedience to measure what you’ve been told about transition and transsexuality against the things you have seen and experienced. Have the audacity to be wrong, to make mistakes as many times as you need. Have the pride to ask for better things than you are offered. Have the humility to not think yourself exceptional. Above all, never relinquish the responsibility over your life and your choices to anyone or anything else. No, no one else knows any better. No, there is no easier way.

The first best thing I can offer—to anyone, detrans or not—is to tell you how I knew. In the end I speak from my own experiences, and so it’s only fitting that the message I broadcast is incomplete without a degree of testimony.

Oh, it is to my chagrin, believe me—well, kind of. For all that I love attention and getting told I write oh so powerfully well, a part of me also detests personality pieces. I’m just one woman; I don’t mean much; I shouldn’t mean much. But you must’ve wondered, right? Especially if you don’t recognise yourself in me. I’ve spoken briefly about aspects of my de/transition, and let’s say you took all that for granted, but you must’ve wondered: how did I get here in the first place? How did it feel? How does it feel? Really, truly, how? And why?

I don’t like personality pieces because I think they mine for compassion. That can be a catalyst for a great many things, but just as often I’ve had people treat me with total nicety and then vote for a politician that would kill me, or exile a child that used to be me. Compassion is common, human, and incredibly cheap.

It is also required for kinship. For comparison, for legibility. And one of the issues that plagues detransitioners is illegibility. Silence. A lack of reference by which to see yourself. Community is best known by example.

So an example I shall provide. Next time.

Recommended Reading

On the freedom of sex: Andrea Long Chu, The Right To Change Sex.

On the nature of sex/gender hierarchy within the patriarchy: Talia Bhatt, Understanding Transmisogyny, Part 1.

On the mechanisms of gender-conservatism among women: Andrea Dworkin, Right-Wing Women.

[the-bonfires-ember]

Friendship and ASPD

In a cluster b server I’m in, someone asked about how ASPD impacts friendships and I was encouraged to cross post my response on here so here we go.

Firstly, I’m going to go through how I figured out friendship and how to make it work for me starting from my lowest functioning point to where I am now.

So to begin with, I had no true circles. I floated between groups of people who could give me what I wanted in that moment and just manipulated them into giving it to me if my request alone was not satisfactory. Sometimes all I wanted was social camouflage, sometimes i wanted money or food or a distraction. It was arbitrary and there was no real long term plan - at least, when i was no longer in an environment where long term strategies were vital.

Eventually, as I started working on my recovery, I managed to maintain relationships that were exclusively online. The convenience in putting away my laptop and my social obligations disappearing along with it was immensely helpful and it gave me a way of experimenting with being a little more open and a little more attached that had no Real Life repercussions. It was still transactional, all my relationships still are to this day, but they started becoming less Obviously transactional. I was still getting physical, tangible stuff from people, but I was also getting support, a safe space to figure out how to relate to my emotions, and somewhere to practice empathy and other social skills like it. There was a lot of trial and error but when I ruined something in one space I could just start again somewhere else and not have to worry about the two overlapping.

Now that I am Recovered™️ sort of, I’ve developed Exceptions, who have at some point shown that they are trustworthy and nonjudgemental and understand the antisocial side of my personality and are happy to help me work around it. My symptoms sort of change around them. I don’t have remorse but with Exceptions I will feel a kind of visceral disgust directed at myself for how I could have hurt them like that and that will quite often spark a narc crash.

I decided a long time ago what I didn’t want to be, so throughout the entire process I was watching for patterns of behaviour that were harmful for the sake of being harmful. I created a quite intricate set of rules that I couldn’t loophole my way out of and that was very much an important factor in how I continued to develop my skills and ability to interact and maintain relationships.

I am still bad at a lot of stuff though. I don’t reach out to people, I never start conversations so a lot of people just disappear until I’m reminded of them. I’m also awful at vocalising appreciation and while I know logically that people like to help their friends, I constantly have an internal debate about whether I am taking advantage of people I don’t want to be taking advantage of (given that taking advantage of people tends to make them pissed off eventually). And there are days where I don’t want to be around anyone at all and thats ok. It’s better for me to let myself be by myself than to force myself to interact with people when I really dont want to.

Recognising where I lack skills and reflexes prosocials have has been a skill in and of itself and it took a long time to develop it. But it’s been worth it to me, I’m now able to experience and enjoy so many aspects of life I thought weren’t meant for me.

And I’m very smug about being able to get it despite it being implied I never would.

[theallianceofcelestials]

Okay, so apparently people have been harassing Kat, Earth's VA because they... don't like the characters she plays and how she writes for the show? The actual fuck?

Like don't get me wrong, perfectly fine to look at a character and decide you don't like them, even hate them potentially, but you don't go and harass the people responsible for making the character. That's just plain dumb. I hate/dislike characters from some of the shows (Bonnie from Moon and Sun Minecraft for example), but that doesn't give me the right to go and harass their VAs. BECAUSE IT'S JUST A CHARACTER FOR A SILLY LITTLE SHOW PEOPLE MAKE FOR FREE! IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS! Sure I may rant about the character, but NEVER badmouth the actor, because them being able to achieve such a visceral reaction out of me by just looking at the character, makes them so incredibly talented.

Like how can you be so fucking terminally online, that you decide to harass someone because "I Don't LiKe ThE chaRacTeR"?! Like that's no valid reason to do that! Go and touch some god fucking grass, my god! I swear it's actually good for you!

Like this is just straight up disgusting behaviour in general. It's unacceptable, and shows just how much of a coward these people actually are, because there're no consequences for THEM. And well, they clearly don't fucking care about their fellow human beings, so like jfc.

And like the shit Kat does is for FREE! She doesn't charge us money for her services! She just went and did some amazing stuff for us, and now some idiots're feeling butthurt because they hate female characters or something.

I sincerely hope it was only a couple of individuals at worst, and a single person at best, because my faith in humanity is already rather fragile, and this is just ridiculous and pathetic.

So like, if by some miracle the person/people who harassed Kat is/are reading this, I want you to know this says more about to how sad and pathetic you actually are, and how you peaked back on the playground as a bully and didn't manage to develop into an actual fucking person, than it does anything about Kat. I hope you realise just how stupid you are, but I know you likely won't. Because people like you lack brains, so you can't comprehend basic fucking concepts like how the sky is blue, and 2 + 2 is 4. Or how grass is not your fucking enemy.

This isn't about just just Kat, because from what I've heard, other female characters' actresses get similar bs, and their characters get tremendous ammount of hate compared to male characters that potentially did incredibly horrid stuff, but I don't really follow the other TSBS to know what's going on. But my gods. That's so disappointing.

Why are fandoms nowadays so toxic? Back in my day, and I'm not that old myself either, and joined fandoms later than most people in said fandoms, since I'm a not native english speaker, but back in the day fandoms were so much more positive. Sure, there was the toxic minority, but they were just that. Loud small group of jerks. Like when did we start catering to these people? When did we decide that these toxic people were whom we should listen to, and explain every little thing we do to them? Like why do I have to explain why I like villian characters or whatever to internet strangers? I think people are more than smart enough to realise morality should not be taken from media!

And when did fanart and fanfic start becoming expectation, something the fanfic writer has to do, the fanart artist has to do? Instead it being the expression of joy and feelings the consumed media gave them? When did shipping become life or death? When did a headcanon or an AU become so fucking serious that lives apparently depend on it with how people jump eachother? Why can't we just relax and have fun? Like do what fandom is meant for?

This is obviously not for the people who didn't do any of this shit, but the fact I need to clarify that or someone will get offended is disheartening. Like people please deal with your anxieties! If it's not your shirt, don't put it on as a saying in my native tongue goes!

Sorry for the angry rant, it's just so disappointing, especially because Kat is such a talented person! I really enjoy how she plays these characters and I love her writing! So I thank her for deciding to not just quit altogether, no matter how understandable that would have been! I hope stepping back will make things better!

I just hope her mental health doesn't have to suffer more, because this shouldn't have happened to her in the first place. She's been doing amazing work, for free I'll say once again, and I'll forever cherish it! I hope things get better for her!

If by some miracle this reaches Kat, thank you for sticking with us for as long as you have! I hope things'll get better for you! Take care of yourself! :)

[pseudowho]

God DAMN, Mrs. Haitch!

I think this was the first time I was fucking disgusted by your fan-fics. And yes, that’s good! I just read operation baby maker and that shit is so real like… your writing is impeccable. I had to give myself a break because my eyes were literally almost poking through the sockets! Great job. Weird complement, I know. Don’t stop!

Heyyyy!

I live to have a visceral effect, good or bad 😎 thank you for loving Operation Babymaker, it's on my (very long) list of things I need to complete!

I'm glad they made you SWEAT.

If anyone wants Operation Babymaker, you can pick your poison with the link to the first one here, which has links to all the other ones included

(credit to @thecutestgrotto for her delightful banners)

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[queenvhagar]

2 1/2 years of seeing posts, listening to podcasts, and watching reaction channels practically salivate over any and every misfortune that the Greens (particularly Alicent) could suffer through whatever ludicrous "karmic comeuppance" they perceived, only for it to happen within the text of the show come Season 2 was the final nail in the coffin for me.

Watching Alicent Hightower beg for Rhaenyra Targaryen's mercy (a thing they seemingly if not accidentally foreshadowed in 1.05), while abandoning every male association of hers because of some misguided attempt at Feminism™️from these writers and showrunners, thereby validating every single atrocious thing the Team Black fundamentalists have said about her character, truly makes me disgusted.

It's so visceral to see a "professional" television production team stumble their way into confirming their own biases (accidental or otherwise) and then some for a section of the fanbase that goes out of their way to harass others who enjoy characters either on the opposite side of the conflict and/or even the actors themselves!

Condal & Hess have turned what is ostensibly a medieval political thriller rooted heavily in Gray and Grey Morality, into a Black and White Morality tale that is only interested in appealing to the idea of progressivism but stifling any degree of complexity to all the characters, because they're obsessed with making the female protagonists "likeable" to an audience, so that they aren't accused of the same immature and volatile environment that Benioff & Weiss cultivated behind the scenes during their "leadership" of Game of Thrones.

I cannot speak for anyone else but myself. This isn't simply about enjoying Team Green, but their position within the narrative that the television adaptation has made is emblematic of a larger issue. The rampant media illiteracy and anti-intellectualism permeating art (if not simply entertainment) has led to a fundamental and belligerent misunderstanding of characters. Audiences nowadays cannot fathom others liking characters that aren't aligned with the protagonist and their centered morality, especially if those characters range from being textually "bad" to just "ambiguous" or "conflicted" within the narrative.

It feels like there has been no room for intellectual debate among the majority since House of the Dragon started airing because audiences (consumers, I should say) at large don't seem to want a complex and tragic tale showcasing the flaws inherent to feudalism and monarchy which are the main themes of the source material, but simply a cool wish-fulfillment fantasy a la "tits and dragons" without any of the substance that made A Song of Ice and Fire so interesting and impactful. Seven hells if you try and offer any disagreement with these people. If this is the environment (read: echo chamber) that Condal & Hess are building, then count me out.

Absolutely this.

Unfortunately media is reflecting larger trends towards anti-intellectualism and media illiteracy, all heightened by social media and internet echo chambers. There's also something to be said about this trend towards purity culture/politics in media wherein creators and those who consume the media are quick to label something as not being progressive enough, or at least performatively progressive enough, which results in media relying on these caracturized versions of character archetypes in order to not portray something problematic and ironically results in stories that are inauthentic, rely at times on harmful stereotypes to tell their tale, and remove ambiguities and complexities from the narrative. Unfortunately, media makers like HBO don't trust their audience to have critical thinking, and unfortunately, the general audience reinforces it with their interpretation of what's presented.

It comes down to where we're at socially and politically, and there's also a large economic component: what sells the best to the most people is a more generic, easily digestible story, in most cases good vs evil with the insertion of certain qualities like good CGI or witty humor/one liners that can be taken from the show and used in marketing/social media reactions/the like.

This is what's happened to HOTD season 2 in a nutshell, but it's not the only franchise to suffer from such things.

[quillthrillswriting]

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︵‿presenting...quill's kataang week!‿︵

︵day one: cultural exchange/ culture sharing/ revival of traditions‿

︵‿︵︵︵‿︵︵‿‿hosted by @kataang-week︵‿︵︵︵‿︵︵‿‿

summary:

after an upsetting council meeting in which aang is painfully reminded of how little the other nations understand of air nomad culture, katara is there to remind him that he isn't as alone as he thinks OR: aang & katara friends to lovers post-war 👀

:D the following are excerpts from "and i promise, that one day i'll feel fine":

Aang typically prided himself on standing strong when it came to upholding the beliefs of his people. It was his responsibility, his burden of loss to carry and his gift.

But if he was being entirely honest with himself, moments such as the one he found himself in now, surrounded by a council of nations in which he was the only Airbending representative, it was difficult to remain pretending as if nothing was bothering him. He’d accepted a seat on the council of nations before fully understanding what it would mean to him, how it would feel . Every other representative was flanked with another member or two of their tribe.

Aang stood alone. 

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He’d been so sure that he’d kissed her, in the Cave of Two Lovers, and again before he’d entered the Fire Nation. Both times, he’d waited for her to say something, anything, to confirm that those kisses had been just as earthshaking for her as they had been for him, but both times, she hadn’t. He’d pressed her about it only once, and the moment she told him that she felt confused, Aang had felt like an absolute and utter idiot . The idea that he’d made Katara uncomfortable… It was enough for him to do his best to suppress his feelings as much as he could. 

That had left them where they were now- on opposite sides of a council room. Two teenagers who could end a war but couldn’t manage to communicate. Aang supposed that there was a bit of comedic irony present there, but truth be told, nothing felt funny to him at the moment. 

Not with how the other council members were speaking about his people. 

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“How can you say that?” Katara ran her hands through her hair incredulously, his jaw set. “Each nation standing on their own and neglecting the balance between our peoples is how the war started. The blood of the Air Nomads is just as much on the other nations for neglecting to remember that, for failing to come to the defence of the remaining Air temples after the first of the Fire Nation raids.” Aang flinched at the visceral reminder, the images it stirred, but regardless, Katara was right. She continued on, her voice dropping in volume but only gaining intensity.

“It’s "every nation on their own" until it was your nation, the one that this “nation of one” defended only months ago.” She spat the last of the words out as if they were laced with venom, her disgust evident as she reminded Hanh of the water spirit form Aang had taken to ward off the invasion of the Southern tribes.

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“Aang. There's no precedent for any of this. The scenario you’ve found yourself in… unique feels too simple of a way to put it. None of the monks would judge you for succumbing to moments of grief and anger.” 

“ I would judge me. I would not forgive myself.” 

“You should.” She smiled softly, shaking her head. “Even the great Avatar, saviour of the world, is not without moments of imperfection.”

Aang chuckled through his tears, his smile turning cocky. “You’d be surprised. I think you’ll find that I’m about as close to perfection as can be.”

“I know,” she said simply, and the genuine quality of her voice was enough to send a blush blooming across Aang’s face. She pushed on, internally berating herself for letting that slip. “And I understand why you feel alone, I really do, but I’m right here, in your corner. Please don’t forget that. You’ll always have me there." She smiled softly, shaking her head as she did. "If you’d escalated the situation back there, if you had snapped completely, I would’ve been right behind you, following your lead.”

Aang’s nose wrinkled as he laughed at the idea of the pair of them fighting the entire council.  Katara shook her head, her eyes fixed on his, her tone dead serious. “Let Sokka, or Zuko, or Toph pull us back to reality. I’m right there with you, in everything .” In life too, if you’d let me, she added silently, her hands itching to pull his hands back to hers. 

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♥ feel free to check out the entirety of this fic & my ao3 here! ->

to see the rest of the kataang week submissions from the other extremely talented and lovely members of this community, head over to @kataang-week :)<3 thank u so much to the wonderful mods for making all of this possible!

[kradeelav]

Hello! I want to learn how to draw content on the more spicy side, but I'm unsure where to start. Do you have any tips/resources for it? I would love to make Corrin/Gunter art and some of my other favorite pairings. Thank you in advance!

on the practical/technical side:

having a solid understanding of anatomy helps, of course - the basic bone structure of course, but how skin, fat, muscle hangs as well. you don't actually need to watch live-action porn to get references (i never have believe it or not), but i do follow a few historical kink/bear magazine archivists online. personally i find that there's more of a variety of beautiful shapes and humans in those old photos, and you generally know it's consensual since they've personally submitted them.

you also can't go wrong with reading other erotic comics ... i say comics vs illustrations since you start to see the pacing of these scenes like any other human interaction and the tools the artists use. when does intimacy turn into foreplay? when does the artist/mangaka zoom in to capture the sensation of the moment? what clever tricks do the artists to capture the climax when the bodies are all pressed together and when finding a good camera angle is tricky? how do they show the heightened feeling with symbols and textures? how is kink power dynamics shown with characters in different positions? do you show faces and the expressions to show the pleasure or not? what comics feel cold and manufactured to you versus ones that capture real eros? why? etc.

on the mental side:

if you're anything like me, you might have a lot of shame to untangle when it comes to harder varieties of erotic art. (i hope not! not everyone does. but it's unfortunately common given the societies we live in.)

it's going to take a while, and it's going to feel really weird at times when you draw something that's uncomfortably intimate or taboo, but that's when you know it's working and you gotta keep pushing through.

you gotta keep drawing.

privately, i have a personal rule that i'll draw anything at least once; if i feel afterwards that it turned out to be a personal squick, i won't go there again, but that guideline has been marvelous to start breaking through the manufactured idea of disgust and also just to experiment with putting myself in other people's shoes about what they find hot. sometimes it's surprising! i've learned a lot.

lastly, on that note - draw what you find deeply intimate. forget about other people. selfshipping? the most niche kinks possible? the kink that feels like the internet can't stand? who gives a shit about them (no taste, the lot of them).

draw the human. the tenderness, the visceral, that overpowering desire for you that almost scares you with how intense it is and that sends your brain alight.

that's going to be timeless.

[genderkoolaid]

would you be willing to talk some abt what it means to you to be a dyke? im trying to decide if thats smthn i wanna use for myself and i also love hearing other peoples feelings abt labels :)

To me a dyke is... someone who is a girl or was a girl or is/was girled against their will whose fucked up about it. like Defective Model of Girl. dyke is a mix between bitch and freak. fucking over female expectations in some queer way or another. dyke is when you are obligated to be a woman but your inmate personhood is viscerally disgusting to the patriarchy, so it both demands womanhood while punishing you no matter what you do. you aren't necessarily a woman, but you have (willingly or not) a fucked up and queer relationship to being a woman or womanhood or lesbianism etc etc.

the reason i focused on guydykes in that post is because i wanna point out how "dyke" has always been an anti-transmasc slur as much as an anti-lesbian one. same with fag & anti-transfemininity. trans guys of all kinds have been punished for Doing Girl Wrong (and ofc so have transfems; there is as wide a variety of transfem dykes as transmascs, same with transmasc fags). people can get real tetchy about trans guys calling ourselves dykes, especially if we aren't attracted to women at all. even though it has always been used against trans men&mascs& so many other trans folks. i love woman dykes ofc but it's important to me that we recognize how often transmasculinity erased and then alienated from itself, to the point that trans men who have been called dykes their whole lives feel like they aren't allowed to be a dyke because some people made up arbitrary rules based on a concept of dykehood that never considered transmasculine experiences in the first place.

[kakitetan]

Sebastian Solace x GN! Reader | Daily Life AU | The Plan

"Oh, you're back . Let me grab your file." Sebastian said, his back was turned.  

The only light in the room was his eyes and his lure . His fingers brushed through the files . He didn't want to say it, but he was thankful you had died . You had the crystal , you were so close . That worried him .. All these monsters, these obstacles, and even Painter . It's all there just to buy him time.  

"I just need to buy us more time, and this.. Filth has gotten way too close." He thought to himself. He clenched his jaw behind his lips, he knew you could barely see his face, but he didn't want to drop his friendly merchant persona unless he had to.

"There it is." His voice echoed, and he passed you your file. He clasped his hands together, you were still disoriented. He let out a sigh, "You don't have to read it, but don't waste my time."

Y/N's hands trembled as they accepted the file from Sebastian, her gaze never leaving his inscrutable features . The faint echo of his voice resonated through the quiet room, sending a shiver down their spine . Disorientation washed over them like a cold wave, making it difficult to focus on anything but the sea creature standing before them.

Sebastian clasped his hands together , he saw you shake your head . He raised his chin in defiance, staring at you in disgust . Humans are rather disgusting creatures, aren't they ? Sebastian's expression hardened, his lips curling into a sneer as he beheld Y/N's shocked face . With a dismissive flick of his gaze, he summed them up with contemptuous disdain.

"No .. I'm just really disappointed in myself..." He heard your voice crack.

He lowered his guard.

Did he hear that right? Or rather was this another manipulation tactic by the many other Urbanshade criminals that come and go?

Many expendables break down, whether it's anger, sadness, or no reaction at all. Just.. Shock. He's learned not to get attached to people; Sebastian didn't want to go through what he's already gone through. Not again ..

"You reaaaally like to waste my time , are you done yet? .. Let's get one thing straight, I don't care about you or your feelings. You're here because of your crimes. Let's see your file.." He turned around, shuffling back into the darkness.

The small light to his lure grew further away before his voice spoke up once more . "That's right, riiiight here."

"You were charged with second-degree murder, and caught red-handed." The file slammed shut with a harsh finality, his venomous retort searing into Y/N with a sneer. "Quite the charge, isn't it? It means nothing down here." He spoke with venom.

You stared at him, before looking back down at the file of what had killed you again.. Before opening your mouth to speak. Sebastian noticed your hesitation, assuming he had finally won.

"I did it because I had to .. I was in danger. Out of everyone down here, I'd think you'd understand." You spoke.

Sebastian felt a vein pop from that sentence.

All the bloodshed, the corpses he had torn apart. Sebastian's mind recoiled at the gruesome memories, each one more visceral than the last. The metallic tang of blood, the crunch of bone beneath his teeth, the slick feel of entrails spilling from ruptured abdomens, all these horrors twisted in his thoughts, swarming feelings of anguish, revulsion, and numbness. Bit by bit. He vividly remembered tearing into the flesh of other Urbanshade soldiers, biting into the tendons of the scientists, feeling every inch of the pain from the constant surgeries, and being cut open. He felt so much in pain, that he wanted to die from every waking moment of the medical procedures. His body was violated and reshaped against his will. Every incision, every probing instrument, every stitch pulled had been a fresh hell. The pain was a constant companion, a gnawing entity that refused to relinquish its grip. Even now, decades later, the echoes of that torment lingered, festering in the darkest recesses of his psyche.

"You SHUT UP!" His hands slammed onto the desk.

"YOU AND I ARE NOTHING ALIKE!"

"And frankly I don't give I fuck, even if I did understand! I was never filthy scum like you , you deserve to be down here. You should've been in MY place, I! WAS! INNOCENT! ... YOU! .. I hate YOU the most." He spat, before closing the file.

He turned his back, placing the file back into its organized spot in the darkness. He heard you mumble something under your breath, while he was putting the file away. His head perked, and his teeth became visible in annoyance. He was ready to tear you apart now, you were getting on his last nerve.

"And what was that?" He growled, this fucking pissed him off.

"I said come with me!" You shouted, and that caught him off guard. "I'll try again , just give me another try! I know I won't remember much, but I'll try until I make it , you'll come with me.." You were sobbing.

Sebastian hid in the shadows, slowly relaxing as he realized, you weren't mad, nor were you a threat. You were just stupid.

'Save those tears ' he wanted to say, but nothing came out.

It was like a lightbulb went off, he knew what to do, and he wanted to play along too . You were expendable after all, not just to Urbanshade, but to him too. His grin slowly formed back. He slithered towards you, gently picking you up, and carrying you back to the beginning. He looked down at you , you were passed out. This was routine. This always happened, every time ..

" Oh Expendable, I don't even bother to know your name.. You're a pain in the ass." He said, before lying you down. Surely someone else would find you in a safer area much as this one, and they'll do it over again, and again .

But this time, it'll be different. Oh yes. He had a plan.

He relaxed, and clasped his hands together, staring at your sleeping body.

This time, he'd help you escape. You're just a tool to him. Nothing more, nothing less. You were his stupid expendable, and his ticket to getting out.

He wiped his hands off his clothes in disgust after touching you, before slithering off into the shadows ... Sebastian had many years to memorize the corridors of the facility, so it was easier to navigate to Painter's room. The only thing is, it was rather boring and time-consuming... Sebastian eventually ended up entering Painter's office space, his .. Jail. More or less.  

"Sebastian! How are you? Did you miss me? Were you thinking of me? Did you find a way out?" Painter smiled , his screen flickered on, showing his animated face smile and nod in excitement.

"I might have just figured our way out." Sebastian clasped his hands together, with a rather devious sneer. "Follow my lead, okay?" Sebastian chuckled darkly.

So just like I said on my AO3, this was in my drafts. I'm still writing, but I've been struggling due to poor mental health. Art is my main hobby, and I didn't really expect my fics to kinda blow up like they did. SO IM LIKE... OKAY. THATS CRAZY. Anyways, enjoy some backstory where you tame Sebastian basically.

[skumhuu]

not at all the other anon (and very VERY much proship leaning) but the "proship means you're against harrassment" definition has always seemed flawed to me because... i was an anti once. And from my direct experiences there are so many antis who have horrible opinions of proshippers but are also very firmly against harrassment—they're still antis and still hate us, viscerally even, they just keep it to themselves and to their friend circles. That doesn't make it harrassment and also doesn't make them less of an anti, they still believe awful things about us and would likely be hostile if we ever interacted.

The definition i typically use for myself to determine whether or not someone is a proshipper or not is if they believe someone's taste in fiction has any bearing on their real-life moral compass or not. If you believe it does, you're an anti. if it doesn't, you're proship.

(This isn't to step over your opinion at all—just sharing mine! I really apologise if this comes off as disrespectful in any way haha.)

No no you’re fine! 💚

This kinda goes back to the unfortunately widespread idea that proship=pedo/problematic. Because like, those people just sound like they identify with being an anti because all of their friends are antis, they have the wrong info, or are too scared to speak up.

Also please remember that my aggressiveness lately isn’t due to hate, I am more than okay with former antis and people who don’t know better, but at this point I’ve dealt with so much harassment and hurt that I’ve lost my patience.

Aligning oneself with the face eating leopards to stay safe doesn’t mean they’re going out to eat faces themselves, but they are enabling that behavior. Even if they aren’t hurting people, by displaying “proship dni” they’re okay with isolating particular kinds of people out of the fandom. They’re okay with inciting harassment, or standing by while others do it for them. And like, they can say they’re against harassment all they like, but they’re still siding with the face eating leopards, hoping they don’t eat their faces next.

Adding proship to my bio wasn’t what I wanted, but I keep getting people acting betrayed when they discover that I’m proship and attacking me that I felt forced to add it. I simplify proship down to ‘proship means you are against harassment’ because I keep having to have this same song and dance where people show up in my askbox demanding I explain myself, when in reality I’m a random sanscest artist like 😂😂😂 the situation is very nuanced! But y’all I’m just trying to make the skeletons kiss

I keep linking studies, and info about the situation, and the way you explained being proship is exactly what I keep saying over and over but in different words :0 I’m too tired to be sympathetic with the people who call me an unsafe pedophile over fiction, who fill my ship tags with hate/disgust while I’m trying to vibe, and I’m not going to tolerate the people who side with that anymore. Like I don’t care if they aren’t harassing others themselves anymore.

Literally look at the tmnt fandom, they ended up turning on “neutrals” and bullied the ever loving shit out of everyone, even those who didn’t care. If we tolerate that here, eventually it might get that bad too. I refuse to let that happen. I will NOT let the face eating leopards in

[multifandumbmeg]

I was having an absolutely shit day to begin with but I am literally DISGUSTED viscerally ick by Lila and Five getting together and then

To end this show we all loved so fucking much by killing off the entire cast. The literal entire main cast gets erased from existence so the entire show and story was for nothing. So much for healing from childhood trauma. Instead of a happy ending and character growth we're just gonna undo all of that in a couple of episodes and end it by deleting the problem. Just everyone dies. On the show whose core was mental health and family dysfunction. The solution is ultimately die.

Words will literally never be able to describe the immeasurable disappointment and pain I feel about this season. I never cry, but I am literally still sobbing over how badly this ruined something that mattered so much to me and so many others. As someone who grew up in an abusive dysfunctional household myself and is pushing 30 grappling desperately with the emotional fallout, we NEED to see happy endings for people like us. We need to see that there is a way out if you choose to grow. We need to see queers get their happily ever after. We need to see traumatized parents breaking generational cycles. Not whatever the fuck that trainwreck was. This was utterly offensive to the fans who supported this show so fully for years. Disgraceful and embarrassing.

[nuancefem]

this screenshot from another post actually really hit me hard

it's so true... they always do this. trying to make body dysphoria seem inherently worse than body dysmorphia is actually cruel. as someone who developed extremely severe body dysmorphia before dysphoria, i can tell you it's the #1 reason i started hating and harming myself and wanting to die at a young age. i would've 1000% gotten extreme facial plastic surgery to "fix" myself. and while for some it's their road to happiness, if i had it... it personally would've locked me into this fake version of myself, forever wearing a mask. and whenever i'd see someone looking like my past self, a haunting feeling would've come over me. and yet society was encouraging me to "fix" my perceived flaws. it was insanely normalized. it was seen as almost self-care, and a way to better my chances in life as a "prettier" woman. it really fucked me up. you CANNOT look me in the eyes and say shit like "women just want to xyz bc of beauty standards, it's not the same as my much worse severely debilitating dysphoria" without telling my younger self and other young girls that her life-threatening suffering wasn't bad enough, wasn't painful enough, wasn't as bad as anything a trans person goes through. it assumes so fucking much about dysmorphic people. don't brush us off so easily. don't put yourself as inherently in a worse situation when societal misogyny costs real lives. especially since for me, it came from initial bullying at a young age, like many other girls who hate their own bodies & faces. stop belittling our pain.

my dysphoria was very debilitating too, and made me a trans activist for life. but it did come with risks. i developed reverse dysphoria quite quickly after i started growing stubble, and now i'm stuck with that painful dysphoria until i can get expensive laser hair removal. if this is how transfems feel like about their own stubble, holy shit... i'm so fucking sorry. that's a truly horrible feeling. what i can tell you though, is that this is actually a cousin sensation to dysmorphia. dysmorphia & dysphoria aren't as separated as y'all might want them to be, which would make things must simpler ofc. but it's the feeling of visceral disgust, of your body not being good enough, not being you enough. that sucks to think about; we don't want to empower the transphobic crowd into thinking they can magically fix us all. and so, many activists and dysphoric people try to compensate by portraying them as experiences that are completely foreign to one another. as never being related or feeling similar at all, ever. but the thing is, as a previously chronically dysphoric & dysmorphic detrans chick, i can tell you first-hand that it doesn't help anyone to pretend that these aren't often comorbid disorders, and that they actually really do feel similar. and that's okay! no one should take all your treatment options away just because of that. that would be shitty, transphobic, and honestly ableist. but we gotta encourage ppl & their doctors to do due diligence (which my doctor and trans community didn't) and be open to everybody about the risk of regret, of reverse dysphoria, of things not working out the way we think they will. because all that at the very least makes detransitions less painful, even if you personally never detransition. detransitions can lead to very extreme self-hatred, and all the unfortunate consequences of self-hatred. it is a very vulnerable place to be in, and we want to prevent harm. more and more folks are detransitioning because of a lack of information and a focus on celebrating someone's transition early instead of giving proper information. the same should be done with dysmorphic folks - i am both a post-dysphoric and post-dysmorphic person. but many dysmorphic people cannot function without getting surgeries.

and while this is honestly tragic, as anyone needing to go under the knife at all is tragic in a sense... sometimes it is the only life-saving treatment option for the person. for me, i feel so fucking proud of my survival despite years of debilitating disgust at myself, my body and my face. both in a dysphoric and dysmorphic way. but i do not look down on anyone who did have to go through surgeries. i'm just happy to see them smile and feel good about themselves, honestly. but it is a bit bittersweet. how was it, before surgeries, to be dysphoric? to be dysmorphic? i want to read more stories from those eras. how did people find inner peace? did they, in the end? how many didn't survive? what did they have to say? i feel a strange sense of yearning, sometimes. heteropatriarchal society is really weird. it triggers dysmorphia in so many young girls & transmascs. it can also trigger temporary dysphoria in some people, and even permanent dysphoria. and just because certain societal things are a factor in your dysphoria doesn't mean you're lesser for it either - your suffering matters. just like dysmorphic suffering. hating yourself at all is so fucking painful. i wouldn't wish it on my worse enemy, or i'd at least strongly hesitate and they'd need to be an actual monster to deserve it. i love dysphoric & dysmorphic people so fucking much. i don't want us to fight eachother, or shame eachother for seeking treatments when things become too much for us to bear. we need to uplift one another. do everything we can to lessen these feelings in ourselves, of course, as a community of people who hate their bodies and place in society. but if someone chooses to cross over, to take hormones, to have surgeries... i just don't want them to regret it, that's all. and if they don't? if they're happy? i would hug them and breathe a sigh of relief as well. i'd feel bittersweet, almost nostalgic, because i've been there. people who haven't been severely dysphoric or dysmorphic don't fucking understand. hopefully they never will.

[spudislander]

I've been thinking a lot about how many big-picture ideas I had about myself and my future that drastically changed after I started transition.

Before transition, getting older just felt like terrifying loss and diminishment. Now, ageing is still scary for all the obvious, justifiable reasons, but there's something on the other side of the equation - I'm also looking forward to maturing, to softening, to settling into myself. To me, the idea of being an old man was like a death sentence - but getting a chance to become an old woman is actually exciting!

Before transition, dating (especially online dating) seemed so viscerally unappealing. It just never seemed like something I could even consider doing. I was always baffled that anyone could stand it - being subjected to these highly gendered scripts and expectations, in a high-pressure social situation?? It just seemed like a nightmare to me. For that matter, even just meeting new people and making new friends was similarly unappealing, with similar pitfalls. Turns out, what bothered me was the gender I would have been dating or making friends as. Now, it's obviously way more complicated to date as a trans lesbian, and even to make friends, but again, now there's actually something on the other side of the equation to motivate me. Even if the overall process could prove grueling, upsetting, and challenging, the idea of relating to someone as a woman is actually something I can find joy in.

Even my attitude towards being a parent shifted. Before, there were of course all the logical objections - kids are expensive, kids need more support than I could give, I wasn't old/mature/functional enough to responsibly take care of a kid, etc. - but below all that was a kind of fundamental disgust and discomfort with the idea. Before, even if all those logical objections had been addressed, being a parent still would have held negative appeal for me. Now, all those logical reasons are still firmly in place and aren't going anywhere fast, but the idea of being part of a family as a mother does actually appeal to me. Even the idea of being an aunt, or an older cousin, or a godmother, or a mentor - it all has actual appeal now, when I think about doing it as a woman.

Of course, there are men who age gracefully, men who flout/ignore gender norms in their friendships & relationships, and men whose parenting styles also reject gender norms - but I tried that. I fought that fight for almost 30 years, and it was killing me, because I didn't actually want to win it. I have a new fight now, and in a lot of ways it's objectively a much harder fight - but it's so much easier to actually take on now that I do want the life I'm fighting for.

[ashezinc]

i want to believe just as much as the next fella that One Direction was just a phase i grew out of, but i'll be damned if those five didn't come back with a decades-long vengeance and proceeded to buzzsaw me directly in half with the speed of which they took over my brain. it's like some little fucking brain worm invaded my brain and said hey, i live here now, deal with it. you don't like it? that sucks, too bad. and then i'm dancing vigorously to half of Up All Night and Take Me Home, going buck ass wild to the other halves AND Midnight Memories, while I prepare myself for the ugliest, snottiest, most viscerally disgusting cry of my entire life to FOUR and Made In The A.M