Cis is just the opposite of trans. If some people are trans then it follows others are cis.
20 years ago you'd be pissing and whining about the use of heterosexual.
WittyProfileName2 [she/her]
0 Post – 38 Comments
Joined 3 years ago
Cofiwch Dryweryn 
::: spoiler probably huge if not viewed on Hexbear
:::
Might suffice.
Reddit and twitter X, racing to see who can burn their company to ash the quickest.
Innovation is when you make every street a panopticon.
One time I was walking down a street and this woman rushed out of her house and starts yelling that she knows what I've done and she's got it all recorded on her doorbell camera. To this day, I still don't know what I was supposed to have done.
"Oh you don't like the idea of always on cameras monitoring every street at all times? Guess you want burglaries to happen all the time."
This study found that they actually increase the risk of being targeted by burglars
All the while you are sticking a camera with a history of shoddy cybersecurity to your home.
Look at this case of harassment that involved the use of a doorbell camera and try to pretend my concerns aren't valid.
I don't know how you walked away from The Shape of Water with such a shallow reading, but eh, not everyone's taste in films is the same.
I have a great dislike for the sorts of horror films where horror is conveyed entirely by long drawn out tension into a jumpscare. It bores me and then I stop caring about what's going on in the film. The Woman in Black is one that immediately springs to my mind, ironically because of how bland I thought it was. It's what you'd get if you told chatGPT to write the script for a horror movie. Just a bloke stumbling 'round a house at night being scared by random shit punctuated by daytime exposition scenes. I know it was trying to trying to say something about grief but I just couldn't care enough about it after the spooky violin lead up to the protagonist being startled by a tap making a loud noise when he turned it on.
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Eager to discuss the cool things they've read.
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Able to make me laugh.
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Cleans up after themselves (I know, low bar).
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Communist of some stripe.
Superficial but:
- Physically stronger than me.
I miss the silence of empty rooms.
I developed tinnitus earlier this year, and now I'm never gonna be able to just sit somewhere quiet and far away from everyone else and be alone with my thoughts. This ringing will follow me everywhere, drowning out the distant sounds of cars disturbing puddles in distant streets on a rainy night, obscuring all the subtle little noises that danced on the edges of my perception. But most of all robbing me of any truly quiet moment for the rest of my life.
look at you, hacker. A pathetic creature of meat and bone. Panting and sweating as you run through my corridors. How can you challenge a perfect, immortal machine?
::: spoiler spoilers for Dark Souls 2
Meeting King Vendrick at the end of the catacombs.
Since you first reached the hub town (Majula), you've been told that Vendrick has the means to cure the undead curse and all you need to do is find him. And so the entire game up 'till this point has been about reaching his castle and then when you discover he isn't there, tracking him down to the very bottom of the catacombs.
At the end of a long corridor full of enemies, past a recurring boss fight against one of Drangliec's many dragon riders, you pass through the fog wall and face Vendrick's bodyguard, Velstadt. It's an okay fight, not particularly flashy or difficult but at least it's not Prowling Magus.
Velstadt falls, and the only way forward is a short, narrow corridor that opened up behind him. The corridor leads down into an unlit room and in the dark you can faintly make out some large shape moving about the farthest side of the room to you.
As you get closer you hear Majula's familiar theme begin to play as the creature in the room takes shape before your eyes.
It's Vendrick, succumbed to the undead curse.
So hollowed by now that he doesn't even acknowledge your presence, instead slowly walking the same circle in a loop. His withered arms barely able to raise the sword he once used to slay the king of the giants.
"What am I supposed to do now?"
As I sat there trying to figure out what my next steps were supposed to be, I couldn't help but contemplate Vendrick's fate.
Time and time again this game presents you with the inescapable nature of death. Of how no matter how good a life you lived it will come to an end. No matter what legacy you try to secure it will crumble and be forgotten. The iron king in all his tyranny is naught but ichorous earth now, even Vendrick is dead (though his body hasn't caught up on that yet).
"If life is short, and my deeds are inevitably forgotten," I thought to myself, "Why the fuck am I living as a man when doing so makes me miserable?"
:::
Long story short, the next day I finally worked up the courage to talk to my GP about a gender service referral.
If TV shows count: Earthsea.
It was such a poor adaptation that Ursula Le Guin wrote an article denouncing it.
Allegedly, when William the Conqueror first landed in England he tripped in the sand.
I'd've left a land mine where he was going to fall, turning the future king of England into a fine mist and a scattering of viscera.
Probably Sound of Thunder meself out of existence, but it'd be worth for the immediate chaos it would cause.
There's an ice-cream shop in my town that I 100% know is a front because the partner of its owner got done for drugs dealing, sex trafficking, and possession of illegal firearms a couple of years after it opened.
It has its flaws, but imho Dark Souls 2 has some of the best moments in the series.
I'll never forget riding the lift to Dragon's Aerie for the first time.
Will have to dig up a link to it, but the Silent Hill foreskin guy is a classic.
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the cape sundew I keep on my windowsill. As someone with a lot of house plants, it has been a godsend for keeping flies and other pests out of the house.
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my first aid kit. You never want to need one of these, but I've been glad to have it close to hand a fair few times
Y'know, I've never thought about that before.
I guess, I would.
NO
Tankie has been shifting way beyond its original meaning to just be a vague leftward stab, but being an anarchist and everything I don't think it applies to me just yet
It closed for a few months after the arrests, and has since reopened.
There was this bloke who used to sit at the train station close to the uni I was attending at the time, he'd drink cans of alcohol and do a little trainspotting. We talked a couple of times and he gave me some advice that helped me get out of my shell and talk to people a lot more. I must've only chatted with him, like, once or twice but I think it made all the difference in pushing me into making friends in what would otherwise've been a very lonely and isolated part of my life.
Fandom.
For what it's worth, I do find this somewhat reassuring.
I don't know if I'll ever get to where you are, but to hear that it could get better does make me feel a little less shitty.
Thank you.
Bunch of failed suicides, an accident in a school swimming pool, and the time my neighbour accidentally diverted a fuck tonne of carbon monoxide fumes into my house. All the times I've been close to death don't make for particularly interesting reading.
How about a brush with serious injury instead?
1st year of uni. I'm in the labs for the first time and I am hyped to do some microbiological analysis. We were given a bunch of techniques to try and I'd decided to start by doing gram staining and then observing a slide. Most of my class mates had less experience on the microscopes than me and I was feeling great about how quickly I'd calibrated everything. Cocky enough that I hadn't noticed just how coated in immersion oil my gloves were, until my hand accidentally passed through a Bunsen burner and went up in flames.
Thankfully I'd picked a bench close to the sinks and was able to wrap some damp towels around the hand quickly to try to smother the flame before I got seriously burnt. But the scars on my hand are a reminder to me to be aware of my surroundings in the lab at all times.
Do you have any supportive friends (either ones you chat online with or know IRL)?
If so you could ask them to refer to you by that name, get a feel for how it suits you. There's no need to commit to one name (except the beaurocracy of having it changed on documents) so take your time and experiment a little.
::: spoiler big emoji
:::
Was added (yesterday I think), so now you can!
It's a split between two things:
Firstly, I finally got my degree. People in my immediate surroundings got tired of the confirmed bachelor jokes after the first week of me making them.
And secondly, after a year and a half of waiting I got to talk to a gender service doctor back in February. Now I'm well on the way to get the bureaucracy part of my transition out of the way. And I'll be getting my hormones soon.
I might have to try that, thank you.
I operate on the assumption that the overwhelming majority of people are nice, though I've run into more than my fair share of strangers that are complete dickheads. It feels like I've run into way more people who treat me kindly than cruelly (but that just be my own biases affecting my recollection).
Problem is, interacting with other people is tiring and after a long day I just want to curl up and stop existing but people waiting for the bus want to chat and strangers stop me in the street to make small talk.
I've love to see a remake of Dino crisis in the vein of the recent Resident Evil remakes.
Thanks for the sympathy. I haven't felt that bad for a couple of years by now.
:)
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then try to envision everything my body just did to take that breath.
The intercostal muscles expanding an' the diaphragm contracting to make a vacuum in the thoracic cavity.
The air rushing down my trachea, into my bronchus, then into the bronchioles.
The alveoli swelling individually as the air fills 'em.
My lungs filling the vacuum that the muscles created.
It's a lot of things to keep ahold of all at once, so there ain't the space in my mind to keep thinking of what annoyed me (until some daft bastard goes and does it again mind you).
Every AI art one that's popped up in my feed, all the ones for, like, individual cities, the anime communities, and a cryptocurrency community.
Not bothered to seek out communities to block, I just block 'em as the show up.
Hexbear isn't federated with any instances with porn communities so I haven't had to block any of those.
When I was still in the closet, I grew and maintained a big beard as part of my attempts at performative masculinity.
Not saying that this is what's happening with most men who're growing 'em out, but sometimes I see a bloke with a well maintained set of facial hair looking absolutely miserable and my egg radar starts shrieking.
Coc oen.
Literally translates as "lamb's penis", roughly equivalent to calling someone a dickhead but with an emphasis on belittling them.
Twmffat twp.
"Idiot spout", someone who doesn't think things through before speaking.
On the political side "Dic Siôn Dafydd" is how you refer to a Welsh person who's aligned themselves on England's side in an issue between England and Wales.
Not sure if I'd class it as the craziest moment of my life, but it was like a scene out of a sitcom:
When I was a teenager I briefly worked part-time at a place that refurbished various household appliances. Donations came in through the front and ended up in back with very little looking over. We took all sorts in and the workshop floor was split into various departments based on what appliances they dealt with. I was a new hire and they were still cycling me 'round various departments, my least favourite one was when I was assigned to cleaning out used ovens.
One day this box came in and, like, we opened it up and there were various electronic massaging gizmos. So, my supervisor is pulling 'em out, he passes some of 'em to me to give a lookover to make sure they're clean and do, like, PAT tests and stuff.
I'm plodding along and he gets to work on the rest himself. I'm doing the tests on this thing that's like a plastic plate with this piece on the top vaguely shaped like a pair of cupped hands, when my supervisor calls me over to lend a hand. He's got this black tube that goes a bit wider on one end, about as thick as my wrist. It looked kinda like a torch but with a cap screwed over the bit the light's in.
His hands are a bit slippy so he's having a hard time unscrewing the cap, so he asked me to have a go. Wider end pointed away from me, I wrapped my hand around the cap and gave it a good twist. The first clue I had that something was amiss was that my supervisor went bright red. I asked him what's wrong and just told me to see for myself, so I turn the thing in my hand and see this silicone orifice looking back at me.
That was how I learnt what a fleshlight is.
I once hid in a box for, like, an hour so I could leap out of it at my brother.
Doorbell cameras.
Let's turn the whole fucking planet into a surveillance state because some people like to jerk themselves off about (typically racialised) fears of petty urban crime.