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as a trans person, there is something so beautiful to me about the relationship between us and our bodies.

transitioning is an act of self love, but it is not physically easy. i would force my voice to be deeper before i started testosterone. i would bind unhealthily until i finally got top surgery. but surgery is painful, recovery is long, and injections are anxiety inducing. i have put my body through so much. in moments of weakness, i say i hate you. it is not your fault. but i hate you.

and yet, to me, my body says i love you. in so many different ways. it says you can do anything to me, and i will heal for you. i will never stop changing for you. i will give you the life you have always wanted. and i will never stop trying to keep you alive. i love you, and i don't know how to do anything else.

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What's your favorite Autism/TBH creature sticker you made?

probably this one!

they are happy and in love, what else can you need?

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served my duty as an autistic artist and made a bunch of autism creature reaction images

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kanade graphics !

. . . 🗯️ like + reblog if using 𓂃 no f/o tags ♡

will probably open requests again tmr ! maybe to just my whitelist so im more motivated to do them (>‿◠)

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Goncharov broke containment.

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nothing worse than when the person drawing your blood fails the medicine AND sleight of hand check

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i just feel strongly that work shouldnt be the Main Activity of five days out of the week

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So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

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sanders sides commission for @hello-its-an-aj!

i had a blast with this^^

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Characters who are yellow coded not as in joy and optimism but, rather, yellow as in the first color the human eye will notice, plastered over hazard signs and school buses. Yellow as in a light so bright it burns. Yellow as in illness and disease, just waiting to infect. Yellow as deception, a cover up for something with teeth and claws and malice. Can anyone hear me

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This is so fr

post from here

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So a free tool called GLAZE has been developed that allows artists to cloak their artwork so it can't be mimicked by AI art tools.

AI art bros are big mad about it.

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making thibgs... to send people

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#it was a maximum ride smut fic and i was 11 #i started young