I Think This Is Like 98% Me, Holy Fuck Are You A Stalker?

Does someone not like kitties? Tsts, what an evil boy..

Woof

Woof!

everything reminds me of her

Yeah.... :/

Just a quick doodle for long covid awareness day

Nyeheheheheh, true >:3

I know stereotypes are bad, but let’s be honest—every trans girl has a vibe. So tell me, which one are you?

A cute hacker girl fueled exclusively by energy drinks – You type at lightning speed, have a questionable sleep schedule, and may or may not be a digital cryptid. Bonus points if you can do eyeliner so sharp it doubles as a weapon.

A literal cat/dog (kitten/puppy also valid options) – You either radiate smug feline energy or are the human embodiment of "wagging tail, big eyes, head pats please." No in-between.

Target mom – You have opinions on scented candles, will absolutely offer to buy your friends snacks, and could run a household with military efficiency if you weren’t so busy being cute.

Three communist manifestos in a trench coat trying to add others to their cause – You own at least one tattered copy of The Communist Manifesto, believe transition should be free, and could (and would) unionize a girl’s night out.

Teenage witch – You collect shiny rocks, you’ve considered hexing a TERF, and your idea of self-care involves moon water and aggressively manifesting a hotter body.

OH NO A LITERAL GOBLIN! – You hoard shinies, giggle mischievously, and the concept of “pretty girl” and “chaotic gremlin” are one and the same to you.

A vampire with an addiction to fluffy things – Yes, you are the night. But also, you need a soft blanket, thigh-high socks, and a collection of plushies to survive.

A faerie who steals genders and scrambles eggs – You don’t just crack eggs; you turn them into omelets. Gender is yours to redistribute. Watch out, because if you so much as look at someone, they might start questioning things.

A 1950s housewife but horny and super progressive – You bake, you’re adorable, and you’re absolutely calling someone “darling” while making them question their sexuality.

Goth was never just a phase, it’s a lifestyle – Your wardrobe is mostly black, your eyeliner could kill a man, and you’ve perfected the balance between spooky and sapphic.

Goth but discovering the color brown (steampunk) – You have very strong opinions on corsets, pocket watches, and the intersection of sapphic romance and gears.

Cottagecore is my goal in life – You dream of a cozy cottage in the woods where you and your cute wife bake bread, tend to your garden, and forget what capitalism is.

I choose you, random fetish! – You didn’t mean to be this way, but here you are. Your interests are niche, intense, and probably make people blush when you explain them.

So, which one (or ones) are you? Or are you something even gayer?

A Psych Ward of Garnet & Rain

Bank of Sapphire Cold?

This. This is exactly what it is.

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

I'll never be able to wrap my head around how, somehow, my country's English classes, which predominantly are there to teach us English and only mention anglophone history and culture on the side, seem to give us a better overview on U.S. history than history classes in the U.S. give, despite them mostly focussing on U.S. history.

(pissed because I just heard of an adult U.S. citizen who didn't know about Jim Crow laws)