Wow, his cancer died of cancer.
it’s like two rival Zerg colonies wiping one another out
Thank you for finally giving them a happy ending
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My latest project is a custom set of keyboard caps
I really love the way this post never blew up big but it never goes away. I've got other posts that get like 100k in a couple days, and never leave my notifications... But this one just shows up once or twice every day.
I fully expect the teeth keyboard will still be slowly circulating five years from now. Still creeping people out.
I couldn't be prouder. Someday I'll introduce ya'll to the hair keyboard and you'll know the true meaning of fear.
that's because curses don't just go away on their own
Mio Hashimoto ( contemporary Japanese sculptor, b. 1980)
Perfection. The softness. In its eyes.
I don't know about you guys but i really miss seeing "high fantasy" dragons in media, high fantasy dragons are like Smaug (The Hobbit), Draco (DragonHeart), Saphira (Eragon) and Spyro (Spyro the Dragon games franchise) for example, they have their own free will and cannot be controlled, they are highly intelligent and capable of speaking and even writing or drawing. It seems the version of dragons that has taken over is the animalistic and realistic version, that are basically huge dogs that can breath fire, bring back intellectual dragons that like to make riddles to fool intruders, bring back grumpy dragons that live isolated from everyone but they are actually lonely and in need of a friend, bring back the loyal and brave dragons that are willing to sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love, dragons that will talk to you about the mysteries of the world and the universe, JUST BRING BACK HIGH FANTASY DRAGONS GODDAMIT
My 90yr old Irish Catholic grandpa doesn’t miss with my gender. He’s never gotten my name wrong, or my pronouns, never even faltered over it.
It’s all so natural too: son, big man, young man…
We’ve never talked about it. He’s the only one who hasn’t pushed for details. He just accepted it and carried on because it’s not a huge deal.
It’s so comforting.
My dear that’s called Alzheimer’s
I wasn’t going to respond to this, I looked at your blog. Your irrational hatred and bile directed towards trans people is palpable and pathetic. This was intended to upset me.
But I now have a chance to talk about who my grandfather is.
You see, I find it interesting that you claim the only way my 90yr old grandfather could possibly be so accepting is if he was dying of one of the most horrible diseases known to man, a condition which eats your brain from the inside out and turns you in an angry, scared shell of the child you once were while your family has to grieve you long before you’re dead.
You find it easier - and evidently prefer - to believe that to accept me, my grandfather must have Alzheimer’s rather than any other reason.
Why is that easier to believe than a man who lived through (not was born during, not was around for, lived through) the Second World War and the aftermath, seeing footage of the concentration camps and meeting refugees would be accepting?
A poor builder and a farmer who worked alongside queer men and deaf men and the few people of colour in Northern Ireland in the 1950s and was himself barred from many places of employment and education due to his religion?
This man, whose oldest son was born the year the British army began occupying his country, who lived through the Troubles and was automatically considered suspicious and dangerous through an incident of birth? A man who helped raise six children - most of them boys and therefore in great danger of the army turning their guns on them for playing kid-games - in a time of civil war where it didn’t seem to matter which side you were on, the bombs and shootings could get you either way? A man who once was taken hostage by the IRA?
My grandfather’s oldest son - my dad - was the first in his family to go to university and there he met and fell in love with a Protestant woman. This was before the Good Friday Agreement, when the civil war was still happening, and if my grandparents had a problem with it - they never let said to my mum.
(My grandpa and my mum don’t really get along, but that’s more to do with me being a premature baby and tensions over my survival and disagreements on how to look after me. My mum and my Nana? Thick as thieves.)
They certainly never let it slip to us when we came along because it wasn’t important anymore that we were something many people in Northern Ireland would have preferred to not exist. It didn’t matter.
He voted in the Good Friday Agreement in hopes of stopping the conflict. He spent a lot of time listening to me about the bullying I was facing for being - unbeknownst to me at the time - queer and disabled. He just told me that being happy was far more important.
Being trans? It does not matter. Of course it doesn’t matter to him because he’s seen worse things in the world.
He’s ninety years old. He’s still out on the farm, he’s still studying history, he’s still sharp as fuck. I’ve seen someone die of Alzheimer's. I know every bit of it and it’s not him. Besides, I’ve not medically transitioned in anyway yet. He’s only seen me presenting fully masc for six days in person. Two years in total. If he had Alzheimer’s he’d be calling me by my deadname and using she/her.
And he’s not unusual. Outside of your echo chamber, most people are fine with trans people. Most people don’t care. Most people are accepting. They may not understand, they may not use the right words, but they’re accepting.
I do find it interesting that once again the TERF tactic is try and wrestle autonomy and self-control away from people who don’t follow your bigoted stances. Autistics must be being manipulated. Trans men are clearly confused little girls. Children obviously can’t understand their own minds and bodies.
My grandfather must have Alzheimer's.
Of course my view of a world I’ve seen in a Tumblr textpost must be more correct than the reality everyone else lives in.
Have the day you deserve.