#when i remember and have the patience anyways

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: How do strangers really see you ✮⋆˙

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I. II. III.

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How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile I

This pile is drama. This is walking into a room and immediately giving off main character energy, but not the soft, romantic lead kind—nah, this is the tortured, brooding protagonist who looks like they have a backstory. The type of energy that makes strangers take one glance and go, "Damn, what have they been through?" if I really had go give an example to an Immediate Thought a Stranger Has Upon Seeing You: "Are they okay?" (Which—valid.) There’s something about your aura that feels heavy, like you’ve lived a hundred lives before this one, and each one had some level of heartbreak, sacrifice, and major character growth. you’re giving poetic melancholy But in the most captivating way possible. it's like "sad but make it aesthetic"💅 At first glance, people don’t see you as someone easy to approach. Not because you’re outright intimidating, but because there’s an untouchable quality to you. You exude a quiet, mysterious presence, like someone deep in thought, caught between realities. People assume there’s something weighing on your mind, even if you’re just thinking about what to eat for dinner. Your vibe makes people curious, but also a little cautious. You give off the impression that you’ve seen things—felt things—that most people could never even begin to comprehend. You might notice that when strangers interact with you, they either: Treat you gently, like they don’t want to disturb whatever deep thoughts you’re lost in. Secondly, Lowkey test your patience, because they assume you’re detached or unbothered, and they want to see if you’ll react. Either way, people don’t take you lightly. You see things from a different perspective, possibly because life forced you to??? I can see a majority of this pile is a huge fan of art, poetry or sad music or they may even do these things. You’ve been through situations where you felt like an outsider like you were left in the cold—physically, emotionally, or even financially. The full picture? You carry the past with you, but you don’t let it define you. However, people can see the weight of your experiences, whether you intend to show it or not. You might be the kind of person who has learned to walk away from things before they destroy you completely. It’s not that you want to leave, but when you sense that something (or someone) is bringing you down, you don’t wait for the final blow—you detach, emotionally or physically. And that? That makes people fear losing you, even if they don’t know you well. Like, I want to grab you by the shoulders and be like, “Tell me everything. Who hurt you? Who made you strong?” You’re the kind of person who doesn’t seek attention, but you get it anyway. You don’t have to be loud—people just know there’s something about you that’s different. And they want to figure you out, even though you probably make that damn near impossible. There’s also an artistic, philosophical quality to you. Even if you don’t see yourself as an artist, you feel things in a way that most people don’t. i see that some of you may be even an INFJ???

You, my dear, are the walking embodiment of a Lana Del Rey song—tragic, beautiful, a little detached, but also dangerously alluring. Strangers don’t just notice you—they remember you. Even if they never talk to you, they’ll go home and be like, “That one person… I wonder what their story is.” So my advice? If you ever feel like people misunderstand you, don’t stress about convincing them otherwise. The right ones will see you without you having to explain a damn thing. And the ones who don’t? Well, they were never meant to get past the first page of your story anyway.

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile II

Alright, bestie, let’s talk. If I saw this pile laid out in front of me, the immediate thought running through my head would be: "Damn. This person has seen some things, done some things, and is probably carrying a whole season’s worth of plot twists in their aura." You, my dear, give off an energy that is intense, hardworking, and slightly intimidating, but in a way that makes people lowkey obsessed with you. Like, imagine someone walking into a room with the aura of a self-made boss—someone who’s been through the trenches, built themselves up from scratch, and now operates with that sexy, quiet resilience that makes people both admire you and fear you just a little. That’s you. That’s this pile. People take one look at you and immediately clock you as someone who does not play around. You exude discipline, endurance, and a "grind never stops" energy that can make people feel like they need to fix their whole life just by standing next to you. You know those people who just look like they have a five-year plan? That’s the vibe you radiate. you’re that person—always working on something, always strategizing, always looking ahead. You don’t give off ‘casual small talk’ energy—you give off ‘I have a deadline and no time for nonsense’ energy. You might have an ‘old soul’ aura—like someone who’s been knocked down a million times but got back up every single time. That kind of energy makes people admire you, but it also means they might hesitate to approach you because damn, what have you seen??? Ohhh, bestie. Here’s the tea. This card in the mix tells me that, despite your workaholic, ‘I have goals’ energy, you have this magnetic, lowkey addictive presence. People may see you as someone who tempts them—not in an overt, flirty way (unless you choose to be), but in a "I don’t know why I’m so drawn to them" kind of way. You carry an air of mystery, danger, or intensity that makes people want to know more, but also feel slightly afraid of what they’ll uncover.

The way you move through the world is purposeful. You’re not just existing; you’re building something, always working toward something bigger. You’re the kind of person who might be polite and civil, but have true access to your inner world? That’s earned, not given. And honestly? Good for you.( I am In LOVEEE with this pile lol 😂) Maybe people don’t expect it at first, but once they get to know you, they realize you are not as predictable as you seem. Oh, I love this pile. Y’all are the type of people who command respect just by existing. You don’t even have to say much—your energy does the talking for you.

You’re the people who bosses and authority figures actually fear a little( I always wanted that for myself😭), because you give off the vibe that you could overthrow the entire system if you really wanted to. You’re also the type of person that people regret underestimating, because when you prove them wrong, you do it flawlessly.That being said, I also feel like you don’t let yourself relax enough. Like, the Eight of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, and Nine of Wands together? Damn, bestie, do you ever take a break? Or are you constantly grinding, constantly proving yourself, constantly thinking, "What’s next?" (Go touch some grass. Drink some water. Take a nap, I beg.)

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile III

Alright, babes, buckle up because this pile? This pile is a walking contradiction, an experience. Pile 3 is the most intuitive & unreadable of all the three. You ever meet someone who’s all bright smiles and warm energy, but there’s this undeniable weight behind their eyes? You give off an aura that’s both guarded and inviting. You've faced betrayals, heartbreaks, disappointments—but you didn’t let it break you. Nah, you built walls, but not to keep people out completely… just to make sure they don’t get in too fast. There’s a hesitancy in your energy, a subtle checking-the-room moment before you fully let yourself relax. But then—BAM—the Sun bursts through. Ohhh, this is what makes you so intriguing. The Sun is the only major arcana card of this pile so your dominant energy is really bright and welcoming, it is pure, unfiltered light. When you smile? It’s infectious. When you laugh? It makes people feel like they just witnessed something rare, something precious. You radiate warmth, but there’s depth behind it. You’re not the type to sit down and trauma-dump to strangers, but your energy? It speaks. It whispers. There’s something about the way you carry yourself—the slight distance in your eyes when you zone out, the way your smile sometimes doesn’t reach all the way, the way you watch people instead of immediately throwing yourself into the chaos. You know things without needing to be told. You read energy like it’s your first language. Strangers can feel that you see through the surface-level bullsh*t. You don’t just listen—you absorb. You analyze. You clock people’s tells before they even realize they have them. And honestly? That can be intimidating as hell. But here’s the thing—you don’t use this power to manipulate or expose. Nah, you protect with it. That’s the Sun and the Nine of Wands working together. You radiate warmth and kindness, but if someone tries to cross you? They’ll quickly learn there’s a fortified wall behind that glow. A wall built from experience, from lessons learned the hard way. If you picked this pile, you’re the kind of person that leaves an impact. People don’t just forget you. Even if they only interact with you briefly, there’s this lingering thought—like, “What’s their story?” You make people curious, but you’re not out here spilling your soul to just anyone. And honestly? I respect that. But here’s the real kicker—you’re not just your past. You’re not just the heartbreaks, the lessons, the wounds. You are the Sun, too. And the Sun in this spread tells me that despite everything, you still believe in joy. You still find ways to laugh, to love, to spread warmth. That’s what makes you magnetic. That’s why strangers are drawn to you—they can feel that you’re not just surviving. you’re the mystery wrapped in light. You’re the soft warrior. You’re the one who sees but does not always speak. You are guarded but generous, intense yet kind, and above all, you are unforgettable. And honestly? That’s one of the most powerful energies a person can have.

I’d bet money that a lot of you, Have resting deep-in-thought face, Have had people randomly trauma-dump on you because they feel like you’d get it, Feel misunderstood in social situations, Have struggled with isolation (self-imposed or otherwise). Pile 3 is a perfect balance of both the above piles. No matter which pile, these are the kinds of people that others don’t forget.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[millyphobic]

🐇 ‧₊˚ ┊COTTONTAIL SWEETHEART

✮ leon eating his bunny girl out from the back ✮

fem bunnyhybrid!reader x older!leon ❤︎‬ inspired by this post, pussy eating, fingering, spit stuff, crazy daddy kink (I can't help myself don't gang up on me), leon being a grade A munch <3 | MDNI

For as long as Leon could remember, you've always been a demanding bunny. Maybe it's his fault for spoiling you rotten, but your patience was basically nonexistent.

You wanted a treat? You'd butt your nose against him and bite as his shirts until he was hauling his ass into the kitchen. You wanted his attention? He wouldn't even get the chance to ask before hearing your foot thump on the floor, making your displeasure clear.

For a ball of fluff with floppy ears, you have quite the attitude. All pouts and nose twitches and so so many huffy sighs. Can't stand wearing clothes and prance around in nothing but cotton panties. Sleep in his bed, eat his food, take up his space. God forbid he tries to take a piss with the bathroom door closed. But worst of all was when you felt needy, no shame in you as you hump at his thighs and leave snail trails on his jeans.

You're spoiled rotten to the core but Leon doesn't care enough to discipline you. Not when you make the cutest noises as he gives into your whims.

You look perfect like this. Face buried in the bed sheets and ass up in the air, cheeky hands spreading yourself out for him. That chubby cunt of yours is practically drooling like always, it's like you're constantly in heat. Wriggling your hips as your silly tail swished to and from in anticipation. You really are the vision of temptation in Leon's eyes. Something straight out of his wet dreams.

"Can never catch a break with you, huh? Putting even more gray hairs in my head," he mused, not even bothering to undress as he knelt at the foot of the bed before you. You've been a good enough girl today anyways, waiting oh-so-patient for him to get back from work. And yeah, you tore your panties off and chewed up another pair of his slippers, you were just too precious not to please. And besides, who doesn't like eating pussy?

Worn out rug under his knees and calloused hands on the fat of your thighs, letting his breath fan against your skin. You're so sensitive it drives him crazy, your tail giving a twitch with every touch. A cottontail sweetheart is what you are, all for him to touch. "So pretty..." he murmured to himself. "Daddy's perfect bunny."

Leon is not one to rush. He took his time savoring you, peppering open-mouthed kisses at the inside of your thighs with a hum. You're like a drug, making his brain loopy with lust. Your musk dangerously sweet as it filled his lungs, his hands roaming over your plush ass to feel every inch of you. You're angling for him and he knows it with every little whine from your lips and wiggle of your tail but he wants to drag this out for you. Letting his lips wander, leaving a trail of spit and little nips, moaning into your soft body, up up up. Making little chomping noises to hear you giggle and raking his nails over your sides to tease you. Lips never ceasing as he marked you up with love bites and drool, higher and higher until the curve of his nose brushed against your slick folds.

And of course, you're always too eager for more more and more, pushing your hips against his nose fully and grinding against his face. It actually earned a chuckle from him, steadying your movements with a firm squeeze to the hips. "Relax, you're gonna bust my nose."

"But I need my daddy!" Right, of course. Who cares if you bust his nose. As long as his mouth still works. He just laughed again and sighed, chalking it up to you being your usual bratty self. You were never one to appreciate being edged anyways.

Leon is patient until he's not. Nothing gets him going like hearing you babble daddydaddydaddy! again and again as he dragged his tongue over your sodden folds, giving a hum of approval as you pull your sticky lips apart so he could lap at your clit with ease. You're like a pornstar when those saccharine moans leave your lips, sounds all muffled as you only hid your face more into the sheets. "Cmon, be a good bunny for daddy," he crooned, words muffled his face stuffed between your pretty cunt. You're coating his lips like lipgloss and with all that spit he's got slick soaking his stubble. Got your essence and musky scent on his skin, marking him up in your own way. Making it well-known that he's your daddy and you're his bunny and anyone who tries to change that will get their slipper chewed by you.

It's not long until he's got his neck awkwardly craned upwards to suckle on your clit, two fingers to stuff you full. He might wake up the next day with a sore neck but who gives a fuck when you whining and moaning for your daddy to make you cream, your darling little tail twitching faster and faster as get closer to cumming. He can feel it, practically smell it (no he can't, he's just delusional), in total awe as you throw ass back to fuck yourself on his fingers. Nasty squelches and little shlickslickslick's cloud Leon's head and all he can do is kiss and suck your clit and curl his fingers on your sweet spot to make you see stars.

Back and forth, back and forth your little cottontail goes as you finally cum, cunt walls spasming around his fingers as you cry out. It's ragged and whinny and real, thighs trembling and body tensing up. He could stay here forever, die and come back to life between your puffy folds. The suckles on your clit turn to little kitten licks and finally feather-light kisses, four pecks on your sensitive bud for the four letters in his name.

"That's my perfect girl, look at you. Daddy loves you so much, dad-Ow!" So much for trying to give you post-orgasm praise. Because your thighs promptly give out just as he starts to speak, basically sitting on his face.

And damn you and your little giggles, fizzling out what little annoyance he had. A few more kisses to the back of your thighs and a playful tug to your tail and enough is enough. He pulled away to stand up with a groan because carpet still isn't enough cushion for his old man knees, rolling you on your back. And, holy fucking shit, you really are the bunny of his dreams. Drooly lips and floppy ears that do their best to cover your teary eyes.

"I...need a nap," you announced, already curling up as you yawned. Always so straight to the point. His dick's probably about to explode from neglect but he doesn't care all that much when he sees his little girl as sleepy, climbing into bed and pulling you to his chest. You fix in his arms like a puzzle piece, a leg lazily tossed over his shoulder and your head slotted under his chin so he could kiss the base of your ears and get a whiff of that nice shampoo he uses on you.

Bunnybunnybunny. My bunny. All mine. All mine. Leon has absolutely got to get you a collar soon with his name on it. And soon.

"Night, night, baby bunny. Sleep well."

[thepalehorsevictoria]

Dead men take no shit

A cracky little gift for @emmg

NSFW for language and gore

“What the fuck happened here?” Rook picks up a sizable rock and hurls it into the Nocen Sea behind them, eyes wide at the wet mass of limbs and flesh and bone below. 

Neve sighs. “This looks not unlike a magister’s experiment. Emmrich, can you…”

“But of course. Happy to help.” He raises his hands, summoning his magic, green and gold, and it flutters into one of the bodies. “Who were you when you breathed above?”

The wet body shudders and twitches, with a sloppy gasp from a body used to breathing. 

“Seamus.”

Neve has her notebook out.

“Who did this to you?”

“An asshole with a cock the size of a mosquito’s. Fucking cur.”

Rook sputters. 

Emmrich’s brow furrows, leaning in further, hands still weaving the spell. “A name.”

The body thrashes, eyes unseeing, and if Rook was not made of stronger stuff since the Necropolis, this might make her ill. Limbs jerk in unnatural angles.

“I ain’t telling you shit. Snitches get stitches.”

Rook swallows her grin and tries to busy herself with lifting another rock and chucking it into the water to reveal a head. Bluach. It’s still juicy. She takes her sword and stabs it like a meatball to get it out of … something else. Or someone else. Ew.

Emmrich is visibly irritated. “Dearly departed–”

“You have the face of a slapped arse. Who the fuck are you?”

Some feet away, the skewered head is bouncing with Rook’s shoulders as she tries not to laugh out loud. 

“A friend of the dead.”

“Holy shit I’m dead?!” it screams, a gargling sound, and then falls still. Rook snorts. 

Very quietly, Rook hears Emmrich curse. “Damn it.”

“Worth another try with this one maybe?” Rook offers, and when Emmrich turns to see her holding a head with her sword, he pales a little, but swallows and tries anyway.

“Let flame rekindle your sight. Let your voice speak again.”

The head’s eyes open, and it looks at them. “Holy fuck, what—” It gasps and spits. Rook’s grateful the sword gives her some distance. 

“Who did this to you?”

Bleeding eyes roll to find the source of the voice, and Rook hesitantly shakes her pommel to move it over to see Emmrich. 

“Aah! Fuck me, that’s a death mage,” it yowls. “Stay the fuck away from me, Dumat’s mercy.”

Emmrich has … lost his patience, lowering his hands but still weaving the spell. “My … dear gentle soul, we’re looking for who was behind this.”

“This what.”

Rook glances at Emmrich quickly, and then slowly turns the head again. 

“What the fuck is that.” 

She answers. “Where we found you.” 

“What the fuck. Did you do this to me?!”

“What? No!”

“You fucking mages, I swear on my mother’s floppy cunt,” drool and blood drip from inside it and Rook makes a face. “May your arms always be too short to reach the pimple on your ass!” It licks its lips for more, gnashing its teeth, eyes wide and angry. “I wish your fingers were fish hooks when you have to scratch your balls! I will fuck the entire front row of your funeral—”

Rook has a hand over her mouth, tears leaking out of her eyes. It’s not right to find this so funny.

Emmrich extinguishes the spell, stopping the severed head mid-sentence. “Spirits save me, that was … uncalled for.” 

Rook tilts her sword and lets the head fall back into the pile of parts. He leans on his staff, staring blankly at the gruesome mess. 

“I can’t say I’ve had to deal with this before.” 

Rook snerks and slowly nods, reaching for a rag to wipe her blade. “I think they’re sailors.” 

“What makes you say so?”

She points with the rag at another torso below. “Minrathous Mercantile Company tattoo on that one. Phrases I have got to remember for the next time I see Thom,” she tries to stop smirking. It’s not funny but shit, it is. 

Neve calls out just in time, saying she’s found remnants of the spell cast, to Emmrich’s great relief.

“The problem is that it’s a fairly common spell to draw from blood magic.”

“Well, shit,” Rook rests her hands on her hips and stares back at the ritual site. “Can we try, like, one more time? Can I help? Like … that one there?” She points at the remains of another unfortunate sailor.

“I suppose third time could be the charm,” Emmrich muses and follows her to the body. “Eyes, open, voice, warmed, temper cooled, rise again.”

“Rrrragh,” the head rasps and looks up at Rook, unblinking, and then, “The hell?”

“Hi. I’m Rook. You are?”

“Amos.”

“Hello, Amos, you’re dead. But if you can tell us something about who did this to you, we can stop it happening again.”

“I ain’t gonna tell you shit.”

“Listen–”

“Suck my cock.”

“Hey–”

“Suck my cock and rim my asshole.”

Rook sucks in a breath and just waits while Amos sputters. 

“I can’t hold this much longer, Rook.”

“Right. Just fucking tell me who did this to you, Amos. Anything helps.”

“As I said, suck my–”

“--Well, you don’t have one, my guy.. You're dead and I'm talking to your head.”

Amos stops and looks at her. It's a little jarring.

She looks back at Amos’s head.

“...I’m dead?”

“Yes.”

It thinks for a moment. 

“Bitch was skinnier than a stick. Pale. White blond hair. Magister.”

Aelia.

“Thank you, Amos,” Rook offers a small smile, and she looks over to Emmrich. “You can let go now.”

[silentplanetcat]

I have many thoughts on this. All the Emphasis that is given to the whole “Save the [Trans] Children” schtick has always had kind of a sinister undertone for me, and not for the reasons one might think. I don’t talk about this often IRL because whenever I bring up my misgivings, people either assume I hate kids, transpeople or both. None of these things are true. Anyway, here are my thoughts:

On Those Who are Caregivers for Control: As a Professional™ I have met a lot of teachers/parents/counselors/caregivers who go into the field of “Childcare” not just because they want to help kids, but because they want to have control over kids. They may say that they want what’s Best For The Children but they also want to be the deciders of what’s Best For The Children.

On Those Who Are Caregivers for Clout: They also may be enamored with how being a caregiver for a child makes them look. I don’t have as much room to criticize because the reactions I get from people when I speak even vaguely about helping children in need are intoxicating. If I could bottle the feeling I actually wouldn’t become a millionaire. I would just inject all of it immediately into my veins. To be clear this is still Not Ideal and I realize it’s something I will probably need to work on for the rest of my life so I don’t turn into Oprah-But-White-And-Evil.

On the Fetishization of the Young: Speaking of being a Caregiver for the Clout™…I’ve noticed that within our society there is this weird fetishization of super early childhood. I know this sounds as grounbreaking as florals in spring, but hear me out. Basically, the less autonomy young people have—>the easier it is for adults to project their desires onto them —>the more they are seen as inherently good/worthy of care. I also often see this fetishization of the very young by ultranatalist shitheads like JD “We Need More Babies in America” V*nce, or by boomers overly concerned with their own mortality. This second category of people hits a bit closer to home for me because some of them are my older relatives and colleagues. They’ve already realized that, because I am a Lesbian with a uterus, my having kids is going to be a Whole Affair™ (a Spending-Lots-Of-Money-On-IVF type of affair). This fills them with anxiety about when or if I will have kids at all. I have asked them for their patience, but I still get weird comments. One holiday I was playing the part of “Cool, Childless Older Cousin with spare time, energy and income” with my younger relatives. As I was being dog-piled on the couch by a gaggle of children over the age of 3, one of my these boomers commented: “you know you can make your own, right?” WILD SHIT! -1000/10! Do Not Recommend! I am a person who very much wants to have kids and this comment/attitude still angers me! I can’t imagine how people who are child-free by choice or circumstance must feel. Kids who are older than babies are also impacted by this because OF COURSE THEY ARE. I myself remember hating that, the more autonomy I got, the harder it was to be nurtured, coddled and cared for. Then I discovered kink got therapy and was able to fill that hole be a well-adjusted person. But it was a pretty painful road.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my ted-talk about the ways in which “Save The [Blank] Children” rhetoric can have sinister undertones for me, a person who likes and works with children.

(i'm not great at wrapping words around my thoughts, so i hope this makes sense!) i like the phrase 'sex exceptionalism,' it really makes me think. this morning i also had the thought: 'youth exceptionalism' -- i have a feeling you've already thought about this, about how we sort of treat children/youth as both sacred and subhuman.

i get this hard-to-describe unease whenever i see signs saying 'protect trans youth.' like changing words doesn't actually change actions, but i wish it said something more like 'defend trans folks.' without trans elders, trans youth don't have a future modeled for them. and we lose the wisdom and insight of people who transitioned in politically tumultuous times, when doing so was at least as stigmatized and difficult and dangerous as it is now. people with the benefit of seeing changes come and go, who have the lived experience of survival-pending-liberation and trans folks helping trans folks through direct immediate action and support.

youth exceptionalism -- it gets in the way of thinking clearly and critically whenever it pops up. it seems more emotional and ingrained than conscious. i feel it around programs aimed at giving youth opportunities, with cutoff ages. which to some extent makes sense, but not to the degree of fetishization of youth & kids our culture hangs on to. one too eager to discard humans as soon as they age (or rage) out of this impressionable, doll-like imposed role.

i think it also puts unconscious stress on youth, a sense of adults/power-havers heaping dreams & expectations on the next generation. and claiming all the sacrifices they chose to make were for the children/next generation. but at the same time expecting a specific outcome, a specific return on that transactional investment.

anyway, that's my jumble o' thoughts.

I think you're getting at something real. I have never liked the "Protect Trans Youth" shirts and banners, the way that certain supportive and well-intentioned parents cling to an identity for themselves as parent to a trans kid (often putting their kid's trans status out into the open and denying them the chance at ever being stealth, should they want to be), the advocacy that gets too perversely focused on the threat of a trans kid killing themselves (as if that were the only reason to give young people rights), the fixation on protection and innocence rather than on liberation... the heart is genuine that is driving a lot of this stuff, but it still sees children as the helpless precious object of their parents, a proto-human that has to be shielded from the world rather than a human of their own, with their own right to make decisions. it still treats transness as a rare fringe case; we might as well be talking about child cancer patients, for how focused the language is on protection and death. everybody's debating about what is best for the kid, and how to best prevent harm, and nobody is letting the kids speak for themselves. there's something so cloying and inert about it. even if the Protect Trans Kids group wins every political battle they get involved in, all they've done is provide children with one exception from the usual denial of body autonomy they live with. and they only get that exception because supposedly death is the alternative and they're that rare and sick. it's not good when you really drill into it.

[gentil-minou]

anyways if anyone is on the bluesky app follow me there help me i am so confused

[zebratimw]

2021

[bmpmp3]

finding out ur coworker is way older than you thought and having to very quickly reorient how you talk to them

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[unexpectedbrickattack]

heehee (pepstavo under the cut)

[yiga-hellhole]

“Make them pay.”

TRUE FORM, ATTUNED GHIRAHIM, wreaking havic on the Eldin border. an illustrated snapshot based on the events from Chapter 10 of my fanfic, Twilight Forest, Twilight King!! sword spirits get little a slaughter, as a treat <3

[ghostpebble]

playing the wii werehog stages makes my arms so sore

[dark-falz]

I've been crafting for renn faire and i thought u guys might appreciate this but also do u guys think I'm doing too much

..."No"s only

[bisexualmaedhros]

i feel like the afab trans people* who believe in "male/female" socialization are the same people who talk about how eeeeevery afab person has like trauma from being told to "act more ladylike." i'm not saying that never happens, but it annoys me when people paint it as this universal fixture of being an afab child.

i do not remember a single time in my childhood where i felt pressured to be more feminine. like, i did already enjoy "feminine" things, but i also sat however i wanted and played in the mud with the boys, that kind of thing, and all the people around me were totally cool with it.

i know that unfortunately my experience isn't universal, but that's kind of my point- you can't act like an assigned sex dictates everything about how someone was raised. you can't act like it gives every afab person some secret unique knowledge on misogyny. some of the most misogynistic people i can think of are cis women! when i was a kid and thought i was a cis girl, i held misogynistic beliefs even while calling myself a feminist, and obviously that's common.

like, i'm sure all this seems pretty rudimentary and it certainly feels like it as i say it. but my god, the number of transmascs i see online acting like they're incapable of misogyny makes me feel like i'm losing it sometimes. and i don't often post about it because i don't want to sound like i'm white knighting or anything; i don't want to sound like i'm going "haha wow those guys are crazy, good thing i'm one of the good ones ;-)" and i don't know if this post will come off like that but i hope it won't because that truly isn't my intention.

my intention really is just like... idk if i somehow have afab followers who think like this, please god examine it. every time you accuse trans women of "dividing the community" or whatever, you're closing yourself off from learning something indispensable. but more importantly, you are actively choosing to make yourself someone women cannot trust. the most valuable lessons i have learned when it comes to feminism and untangling internalized misogyny have been from trans women. so many people who were afab seem to think we have a uniquely pure understanding of misogyny, that everyone else can never understand it as well as we can. that is not true at all. i know for a fact you have met cis girls who were misogynistic as fuck. remember that.

*note: when i say "afab trans people" here i'm not "reducing you to your agab" as many people claim. your agab is directly relevant to the post. i mean this genuinely: please learn to move through your gut instinct of guilt/defensiveness. it's only human, but it will not serve you well in the path to self improvement. acknowledge that it's there, and then learn to listen and consider the things that trigger it anyway. that's the only way you'll actually improve in any meaningful way.

[mariocki]

Katy Manning, in her second screen role (see her first here), as Julia Dungarvon - full-time typist, part-time coffee shop waitress, and member of more than one love triangle - in Man at the Top: The Prime of Life (1.4, Thames, 1971)

[larryrickard]

i had a dream that i made little cards that say "THEY!" on them that i handed out to people at work who got my pronouns wrong, immediately after they got it wrong. and in smaller text (or on the back) it said "i don't want an apology, i want you to do better" or "don't say you're sorry, DO BETTER" and ..... i kind of want to do it. maybe i'll get some moo cards made lmao

various scenarios included:

me slamming it down on a desk in front of them.

instead i had stickers, would slowly peel one off while they watched, and stick it on it on them.

handing out a quarter sheet piece of paper based on the 'i caught being good' tags we'd get in kindergarten which said 'i got caught misgendering hallie/my coworker'. it would have their name and date on it and a giant 🙁 face. i had them as a pad of paper and would hold up a finger to say 'wait a second', dramatically pull it out of my back pocket, take my pen out of another pocket, slowly fill it out in front of them, and hand it to them while staring them in the eyes.

getting a whiteboard for the outer side of my cubicle wall that said '[days] since i was misgendred' (with a bonus by saying 'last offender: [name]'

i also dreamt that i got into trouble for it because i was making people feel bad and was 'creating a hostile work environment'. i was just like.... okay and how do you think i feel? and my boss shut up real fuckin quick. dunno if that would be the case irl but if that does happen i can only dream.

[milo-is-rambling]

Who was gonna tell me that reading is fun sometimes