or anything for that matter

bad trans headcanon tropes to leave behind for 2018

  • trans man binds with ace bandages until a Good Cis Ally gets him a binder
  • “this is my buff trans wife and i want her to murder me” and other various phrases that make the association that trans woman = violent
  • trans man is in a state of undress when another character walks in on him shirtless, which outs him as trans against his will
  • character who is a man (or uses he/him pronouns) in canon gets headcanoned as a trans woman and then in the trans headcanon fanart she’s drawn even buffer and hairier than in canon just to prove how Obviously Not Cis she is
  • drawing cis characters like regular people but then stylizing your trans headcanons to emphasize the characteristics of their ASAB
  • exclusively headcanoning thin adolescent white boys as trans men
  • headcanoning Real, Actual People as trans
  • referring to adult characters as “boys” if you headcanon them as trans; infantilizing trans men in general
  • not bothering to draw body hair on your cis characters, but always including body hair on your trans women headcanons.
  • having cis love interests say anything along the lines of “i love you no matter what parts you have :)” like they deserve a fuckin medal
  • only writing/drawing trans characters in nsfw situations / fetishization in general

Steve has no shades of grey when it comes to Bucky and I love him for it. Bucky’s in Austria, whats he gonna do, walk there? If that’s what it takes. He’s been brainwashed Steve, he doesn’t know you. He will. Steve he’s wanted by multiple governments, why won’t you hand him over? He’s my friend and it wasn’t his fault. Like, there’s no question for Steve, there’s no part of him that hesitates, no other factors play into it, is it Bucky? Does he need help? Steve will do whatever it takes to give it to him. Can you believe how much he loves Bucky wow.


Couldn’t decide whether I liked the original better so I decided to stop worrying about it and just post both…


not everyone
not y o u



Water signs: I want to spend hours together talking about nothing

Air signs: I want to spend hours together talking about everything


#when your biology buddy gets outed by text in front of you but you have the decency to not confront him about it because you know he isn’t comfortable #sana bakkoush, aka: your biology buddy goal tbh.


“Um… reflecting on what I just read… I like what it says about indifference. Well, when you’re a kid, you think that you’ll always be… protected, and cared for. Then, one day, you realise that’s not true. You wake up suddenly not caring about lives outside your own. Nothing going on outside your front door matters anymore. You separate yourself from anything that might matter to you. Neighbours, family, your friends… But when you’re alone as a kid, the monsters see you as weaker. They start to come for you, and you don’t even know they’re getting closer until it’s too late. So they attack you before you find the truth about what’s happening. If any of you opened your eyes, if you really cared, you would see what we’re going through. I guess… indifference is a part of growing up. Becoming an adult isn’t about being able to vote, or being able to drink or drive. Becoming an adult, according to the Holy Scripture of Derry, is learning not to give a SHIT!”

How ‘normalization’ works: Trump’s campaign and government making it considerably more acceptable for white supremacists to stand by and spread their ideology

How ‘normalization’ doesn’t work: Indulging in niche interests, such as writing pseudo-problematic dark fanfiction/etc

After I complained on here about my difficulty in getting ADHD meds, a friend referred me to her psychiatrist and other friends helped me actually get an appointment set up and I went to it and I got prescribed ADHD meds. A couple different kinds, so I can document how they affect me and figure out with the psychiatrist which ones work best.

I took them for the first time last Thursday. They’re supposed to last a fairly short time, four to six hours; I took one before I went to work and had a fine day at work, productive but not outrageously so, nothing to particularly write home about, and I had mostly forgotten that I was on ADHD meds by the time I got home.

There was a choir staging rehearsal, so I was watching the baby for the evening, and the dishwasher was broken so there was like a week of dishes in the sink, and I really wanted pasta with homemade tomato sauce so I started that on the stove and put the baby in his high chair with a spatula to chew on and sang him songs while I washed the dishes -

- and about halfway through this I realized that all of this was so profoundly out of character that my roommates, if they’d been home, might have suspected bodysnatching aliens.

I am too tired when I get home from work to cook dinner. Sometimes someone else cooks a thing I can eat, and sometimes I just drink an Ensure and go to bed. I hate doing dishes when the sink is full; I kind of hate doing dishes even when the sink is not full, and I’d done the dishes exactly once in the previous six months. I am not usually too tired to play with the baby, but only if he wants to come headbutt my pillows while I lie in bed.

Well, I thought, I guess ADHD meds actually do something! And I finished the dishes and finished the dinner and fed us both and did my laundry and cleaned my room and started putting the baby’s books on the bookshelves, which he objected to (he firmly believes that his books should be evenly dispersed through the house, so if he wants one it is always nearby), so I gave up and worked on a writing project I’m in the middle of.

If you knew two people, one of whom came home from work and cooked and cleaned and did childcare and then wrote fiction, and the other one who came home from work and crawled into bed and browsed Tumblr all evening, you would probably attribute other, underlying differences to them. The first one is motivated and driven; the second one is immature and not used to having to keep her own space clean and do her own chores. The first one is trustworthy and conscientious and gets things done; the second one, maybe not. The first one has more willpower; the first one works harder. 

It’s none of that. It’s brain chemistry.

I’m not saying that you can never accomplish anything through concerted effort - obviously you can, and effort matters a lot. I’m not saying that there’s no point in trying to expand the number of things you can do without changing your underlying brain chemistry; there is, and I do a lot of that, and it often works really well.

But I am saying that we attribute far, far too much of peoples’ behavior to virtue, to hardworkingness, to willpower, to passion, to values, when the actual underlying thing is none of those. And because of that, people hate themselves for being lazy, for being slow, for not trying hard enough. I wasn’t trying harder on drugs. I wasn’t trying at all. Cooking dinner on a normal night really is about willpower and effort and careful planning around my limitations and advance strategic decision making and triage. Cooking dinner on stimulants is just - the thing that happens when I walk into the kitchen and want to eat something. 

Drugs don’t work for everybody. (Honestly, they don’t totally work for me; I don’t like taking them two days in a row, and I wouldn’t want to take them if I had to get a specific thing done instead of Doing Things in general.) I think people who have a drug sometimes work for them are really lucky, in a lot of ways, because it’s hard to really believe that it’s not your priorities or personality, it’s your executive function, until you can observe how you behave with the same priorities and the same personality and vastly boosted executive function. But I also think this is true of people who never have a drug work for them. 

People vary, a lot, and one axis along which they vary is executive function, and it’s really hard to imagine what it’s like to be someone with way more executive function or way less executive function than you. At least for me, it doesn’t feel like trying harder or caring more. It feels like not needing to.


The Baudelaire’s refusal to be grateful for their unfortunate events seemed like such a good message for kids - so I made a thing.