ok let me talk for a minute about why i think the word “transtrender” is so gross and harmful to trans* and queer people in general
the meaning of the word transgender literally is just identifying as a gender other than the one you were designated at birth. there are no other “qualifications”. you do not have to feel a certain way about your body or want surgery or present traditionally masculine in order to be a “real” trans* man or traditionally feminine enough to be a “real” trans* woman.
furthermore implying that binary trans* people have to hate their bodies and have a certain amount of dysphoria and present a certain way so they always pass erases nonbinary (genderqueer, agender, bigender, genderfluid, etc.) identities and enforces the gender binary and sets all of us back and makes a lot of trans* people feel like they don’t belong in the lgbtq community which is really awful because we experience enough discrimination from cishet folks as it is. NO trans person should ever feel uncomfortable being open about their identity around other trans* people who should be at least a little bit sympathetic about their experiences.
imposing rules and guidelines that determine whether someone is “actually trans” or “trans enough” is so backwards and goes against so much of what the lgbtq community as a whole represents. it emulates a lot of cissexist and transphobic attitudes that queer people experience every day from the cispatriarch society we live in and pushes us back and makes people feel awful about their identities and like they don’t belong. calling people “transtrenders” for not fitting certain bullshit guidelines only narrows the trans* umbrella and erases nonbinary identities and it’s so unnecessarily hateful and gross. you do not have to fit in a little box to be a “real” trans* person. nobody should ever feel that way.
Ahh thank you. I feel kinda self-conscious about my voice because it’s quite.. high-pitched. But I’m glad you think so UuU
i feel like testing out my microphone tonight, send me things to read/sing/say???
ppfffhfhsdsadf GOD AJ why don’t you just send me your skype and i’ll give you that one where you’re crushing my neck with your boot. and you can choose between the cute one or the scary one
But… I was looking forward to the head chopping… (I thought it would give our special relationship an Angela Carter flavour…) Such things are not to be. This is fantastic, sincerely. May I use it as my desktop?
How ‘bout I give you a smooch on the cheek you horrible thing
there’s an icecream truck outside playing the popeye theme.
i have never been to a local icecream truck in my life.
these two statements are unrelated
do not read old chat logs of someone you used to be close to do not read old chat logs of someone you used to be close to do not read old chat logs of someone you used to be close to
ask yourself before you open things: ‘will reading these give me anything positive?’
if the answer is no - and the answer will probably be no - don’t do it.
non-ableist alternatives for insulting people or things!
please do not say “lame”
- no good
please do not say “dumb” or “stupid”
please do not say “crazy,” “psycho,” or “insane”
- out of control
feel free to add on or correct anything (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
We’re back in the
Endergame! And I have finally glued my timelines together (a lot has happened in what has only technically been a few on-screen days, really), and ironed out a few kinks in the story, so, hurrah. Hopefully the pacing is fine here – I’ve spent a little more time on detail of Team #pub’s arrival than I was first intending, as the last of their chapters was a bit unclear – but I think it works. (AO3)
Title: Endergame - Part 7: Setting the bar
Summary: It seems the End was only the beginning.
Even by Minecraftian standards, the Crooked Caber is turning out to be a very unusual pub indeed.
Genre/Characters: Gen; ensemble Yogcraft cast overall (individual chapters tagged).
Lomadia was no stranger to unusual forms of travel. Before the Island, her wanderings had barely touched solid ground for over a year, when home had been the wind-rolled decks of her airship, or the series of suspended camps, set high in the branches of trees that stretched skywards on scales to match their outsize avian residents. She had glided in feathered pillion between wings several times larger than she was tall; soared across midnight skies, gripped with implausible care in the grasp of talons longer than her arms; and more recently she had flown under her own control, sensing the invisible curl and play of ring-bounded magic down her limbs.
She had visited Lalna’s eclectic castle, felt the strange all-over click of the teleporter technology as it swapped her through space like a shuffled card, and she had even visited the hellish firescape of the Nether, riding the portal wave’s swirling burn through obsidian tunnels between worlds.
Even by her standards, though – this had been weird.