#actually... gender fluid

[charlies-crushes]

The urge to make a male S/I for the new show that I'm into... And then make them a poly relationship... They're all daddies and all buddies-

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[quadrantadvisor]

Pairing Off, in which the Waynes meet the Fentons, just not all at once. 2,443 words

-

Damian feels less than positively about the new girl in his grade.

Danielle Fenton has already garnered a bit of a reputation. Her uniform is clearly second hand, and rumors abound about whether she has joined them at Gotham Academy on a merit scholarship or as “one of Wayne's charity cases.” Neither is true; Father has offered no fiscal support to the Fentons, and yet both she and her older brother attend the Academy, leading Damian to believe they've somehow paid their own way.

Her lower class status and midwestern accent ought to make Fenton a target, but her response to being cornered or talked down to by other students was an unsettling combination of cheerful and aggressive. She is now mostly left to her own devices, despite her notoriety. 

Damian has no interest in the girl. While it is true that she excels in both mathematics and social studies, her performance in English and science are unremarkable, and she poses no challenge to his rank at the top of the class. If he finds himself pushing harder in certain classes this semester in order to maintain the edge, it's no one else's business.

Now if only she would leave him alone.

Damian preemptively slams his sketchbook shut, just as a brash, inconsiderate, annoying girl hops up to sit on his desk. “Hey Dami, what're you drawing?”

“It is none of your business,” Damian seethes. “Remove yourself from my personal space before I-” he isn't allowed to threaten classmates with bodily harm, imply that he has brought weapons to school, or use words that are derogatory to women “-do so myself. By force.” He would avoid her altogether if he could, but Fenton is annoyingly (suspiciously) sneaky. He can only ever seem to sense her when she's just about on top of him.

Fenton merely laughs, high, bright, and joyful, and Damian grits his teeth. “Did you draw me yet?” she asks, and doesn't move an inch.

“No, I have not drawn you. I never said I would, and I have no plans to. Stop asking me.”

She shrugs and kicks her feet. “Maybe you'll change your mind. Can I see what you're working on?”

Damian pulls the sketchbook a tad bit closer to himself (a protective reflex that shows his weakness, he should be better than that by now.) “Never, imbecile.”

Fenton sticks her tongue out at him like a child. “Mean,” she says, still smiling. “I wanna see your art. It's so good!”

Damian tilts his nose up at her. “Of course it is, plebeian, I have standards-” he starts, but is cut off by the teacher entering. Fenton slides off his desk and heads to her own seat. Damian stows his sketchbook in his bag and tries not to think of the unfinished work inside, featuring a girl with dark hair, light eyes, and a mischievous grin.

-

There's this brownstone on the outskirts of Crime Alley, an old townhouse recently converted into commercial space. There's a coffee shop on street level, a tattoo parlor down the stairs, some sorta wine emporium on the second floor, and on the third, a little second hand bookshop

It's outside the border of Jason's territory, but he feels sorta responsible for it, given that he frequents the place.

It's a little out of his way, but the atmosphere is nice, alright? Clean, with soft lighting, but not sterile or corporate like the bigger places downtown. The owners are an older couple who Jason has met a couple of times, and they seem pretty happy with the new location. They're collectors, really, who run the shop to make ends meet.

Mostly, Jason talks to their employee. Jazz.

Jazz works in the afternoons and evenings, after her classes. She goes to Gotham U, double majoring in pre-med and psych, on top of a full time job, because she's almost as insane as a bat. She assures Jason that she does alright, gets a little downtime to study on her shifts.

She always makes time to talk to Jason.

Jazz is an interesting person to talk books with. She cares less about plot and literary themes, and more about diagnosing every character with their own personal malady of the mind. She dissects their thought processes and behaviors, ruthless in her analysis.

She's gonna be a brain surgeon someday, open people up and see what really makes them tick. Jason doesn't doubt it for a second.

So maybe Jason is a little bit in love with her.

It's not a big deal. Obviously it's not going anywhere. It's just nice to have something normal, to talk to someone normal, about normal stuff like books and college and sibling antics.

Jazz's stories about her sibling, Danny, rival Jason's own, and his family is fucking disastrous. Jason isn't actually sure if Dan is older or younger than Jazz is, or, for that matter, what pronouns he should use for them, since Jazz mixes it up pretty regularly. He knows that Jazz absolutely adores them, though, and it's heartwarming, the way she smiles as she talks.

All of that to explain why Red Hood is keeping an eye on a brownstone that technically falls outside of his territory.

There's a girl inside that he needs to keep safe.

-

“Hey bud, late night?” Dick asks the man lying prone in an alley, a block away from the Iceberg Lounge.

The response is slurred with sleep and muffled by a cheek pressed hard into asphalt. “S'at you, Dick?”

“Sure is. We've got to stop meeting like this,” Dick tells him, and means it.

The guy's name is Dan. No last name offered, which was fair, since Dick hasn't mentioned his.

What was weird was that Dan didn't give Penguin his last name, either, when he signed his employment contract. Just Dan.

Penguin has been trying to expand his influence into Bludhaven, and Dick's been trying to figure out why. Cobblepot is a very Gotham sort of gangster, all wrapped up in the city's ideas of style and respectability; Dick honestly would've thought that Blud was beneath him. He needs to figure out who he's contacting and what they're offering him, and he needs to do it before Penguin can get a foothold on his turf.

Running into Dan was a side effect. Dick didn't mean to keep doing it. It's just that Dan has this weird habit of completely disregarding trivial concerns such as his own health and safety, and doing weird shit like, as a random example, getting tired, laying down, and passing out. In the middle of the street. In Gotham.

The main part of Dan's job seems to be bouncing at the club. It makes sense—if you wanted to hire a guy as muscle, you couldn't do much better than Dan. He's at least 6 and a half feet tall, with a chest wider than Jason's. 

But Dick has also seen Dan traveling with Penguin before. Add in the fact that it's almost impossible to dig up info on him, and that tailing him is somehow even harder, and a picture starts to come together. A very vague, very suspicious picture.

It's too bad that Dick sort of likes him, and that he's incredibly hot.

Dan has removed his face from the alley floor, and is in the process of pushing himself up. “Not your business, man,” he retorts. “What are you, a cop?”

Dick can't help a wry chuckle at that. “Not anymore.”

“No shit?” Dan asks, hauling himself to his feet. He towers over Dick like that, but it's hard to be intimidated by a man whose cheek is red and pockmarked by little bits of gravel. Dick is legitimately embarrassed that he finds it charming. He needs to get better taste in men. “Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Dan continues, looking Dick up and down. “No way they could keep your ass on the force.”

“Oh yeah?” Dick asks.

Dan snorts. “I can smell the idealism on you from here.” He starts walking, heading straight past Dick, who falls into step beside him. “You remind me of this kid I know.”

Dick gives an interested hum, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt, Dan will elaborate, but no dice.

“So, where're you taking me this time?” the big man asks, still leading, and Dick stifles a grin at how silly the whole thing is.

“Maybe if I take you out for coffee, you won't faceplant onto any more concrete,” he says, reaching up to brush off some of the little rocks. Dan stutters to a stop as Dick touches his cheek, letting him, then strides off again as soon as he's done.

“Don't care, as long as you're paying.”

Dick stops him with a tug to his arm. “Coffee shop's this way,” he explains, pointing, and Dan doesn't hesitate, pivoting to take the lead once again. Dick rushes to keep up with his not-date, a criminal who he literally picked up off the street and who has no idea where he's going. He can't see his own smile, but he knows from experience that it is both delighted and a little manic. He admits to himself, begrudgingly, that he likes his men with something wrong with them.

-

The biggest reason that Tim played so much Doomed with Ghost_Boy, a couple of years ago, was that they were the only player he knew who kept hours as weird as his were. There were worse reasons to form a friendship. Ghost_Boy was a great player, and was always funny in chat. They were upbeat when things went well, and they were sarcastic but not bitter when things went poorly. Playing for the game's sake eventually changed to booting up the game to hang out with Ghost_Boy. They talked about how different their lives were, with Ghost_Boy in the midwest and Tim in the crime capital of America, and they talked about the things they had in common, like falling asleep in class. It was Tim's favorite form of stress relief, back then, when being Robin was new and overwhelming.

Then Tim got busy. No, that wasn't true—Tim had always been busy. More like, Tim's life fell to shambles, over and over again, and he stopped making time for stress relief when the very concept seemed out of his reach.

That was over dramatic. Tim fell off the game, and didn't keep in contact with his friend. That's all there was to it.

That was all there was to it, until a few nights ago, when he booted up his old Doomed file for nostalgia's sake and found a message from Ghost_Boy, sent a couple months back, that said he was planning to move to Gotham and, if Tim wanted, he'd be happy to meet up.

Tim immediately replied in the affirmative, and then he freaked out that he'd done that and started cyber stalking the guy. He couldn’t be bothered to pretend to be embarrassed by this behavior. He knew who he was.

Daniel Fenton was, in fact, a real teenager from a real midwestern town (Amity Park, Illinois.) He had moved to Gotham right when his message said he would, and lived with his older sister, Jasmine (who had custody over him,) and his younger sister, Danielle.

And that was where Tim was planning to stop his research, for the sake of his friend's privacy. Once he confirmed that he wasn't being catfished by either a supervillain or a run-of-the-mill creep, he was going to stop looking.

But Danielle Fenton's situation was incredibly weird.

Apparently, she had never lived with Daniel, Jasmine, and their parents before. Instead, after she was born, she'd been adopted by the kids’ godfather, eccentric billionaire Vlad Masters, and he was still her legal guardian. It was only after the Doctors Jack and Madeline died that she moved in with her siblings and started attending Gotham Academy, states away from her adoptive parent.

Vlad Masters was a man of eclectic tastes. The stories about him in the news were always covering some weird investment he had made, like purchasing a cheese castle in Wisconsin, or buying up property in Green Bay just to have a stake in the Packers, or pouring money into experimental forms of alternative energy. He was always refined in his public appearances, but he had the desperate edge of new money wanting to fit in with the old. Tim knew of him, but had never given him much thought before. He'd never made a move into Gotham, after all.

But the whole story was bizarre. Masters had gone to college with the Fentons, the three of them creating their own field of study in “Ectology,” before Masters had been contaminated in a lab accident, bedridden and unable to finish his degree. Jack and Maddie had continued their research, garnering just enough interest in their work to receive the funding needed to keep afloat, until some sort of breakthrough a few years ago added validity to their theories. They were practically celebrities in the niche forums Tim skimmed through. Masters, meanwhile, stopped working directly in the sciences and instead turned to networking, gaining some generous help from the friends he made and playing the stock market like a fiddle, until he was one of the most well known and lucrative investors in the world. He owned a few companies publicly, and managed some others under the table (Tim had to snort at the ridiculous naming of Dalv Co.) 

And then the Fentons had kids, and they raised two of them (seemingly quite happily, if the photos on their memorialized facebook accounts meant anything.) And then, for some reason, they named the third one nearly identically to their second child and gave her straight to Vlad. Masters raised the girl in Wisconsin, until suddenly relocating to Amity Park and becoming the town's mayor. There he stayed, until the Fenton's recent passing in a lab accident of their own.

Tim doesn't know what it all adds up to. But there was something going on, with both Vlad Masters and the Fentons, and if there's something nefarious in Masters’ actions or his wealth, it could be entirely possible that Daniel was a plant—a way for him to get an in with the Waynes. Tim has to be cautious, and he has to get to the bottom of this.

That's why Tim is waiting in a coffee shop, pretending to be engrossed in his laptop while keeping an eye on the door, waiting for the appearance of a teen with black hair and blue eyes.

Tim idly thinks that Bruce had better not adopt this one.

[biceratops7]

***

Same energy 👆

[aethershroud]

Oh okay so they're Genderfluid. Good for them.

[casscainmainly]

I would love more desi superheroes 🤩

WOULDN'T WE ALL!!! When DC did their Asian Festival of Heroes one-shot in 2021 and every single story was about an East Asian (except for Damian, whose story was just horrible), they should've known to step up their game!! Some South Asian superheroes I can think of are Solstice (Kiran Singh) and Swamp Thing (Levi Kamei). Jinx is also a prominent South Asian non-hero.

Cass actually did meet an Indian superhero named Aruna Shende in her Batgirl (2000) annual. I think Aruna is pretty cool!! She's a shapeshifter who works as a stuntperson in the Indian movie industry, inspired by Cass to start fighting crime. She's also gender-fluid!! She says she doesn't know if she's a male or female because of her abilities, and they even use him/her in the bio at the end (though primarily uses she/her). She hasn't been used since, but she did get a cameo in DC Pride 2024!!

Adding her to the list of Batgirl (2000) characters I want brought back. Idk how many people even read the annual but Aruna is the best part for sure!!

Anyway, if anyone's looking for more Indian rep, support Ram V. Not only is he an excellent writer, he seems dedicated to introducing more Indian rep in comics. He created Levi Kamei and he's currently writing New Gods. If you're not reading him you really are missing out, go support his books (if you can!!).

[elizakai]

Reminder that Dreamtale Twins are canonically sexless beings who identify with male pronouns.

yk what that means troops~💫

[himbionn]

Dalek Week 2024 Day 3 - "Dress Up"

Late to this event on purpose cause my lazy butt could not figure out drawings for all the prompts 🫡

Anways, decided to go a silly route for this based after that short story Scott(?) wrote with Alek in a dress but with a twist. Plus it was a way to finally use this photo ref I've been meaning to use for ages.

Refs (fits n photo) under cut!

[echostalker]

BSD Headcanon Late Night Talks

Dazai and Atsushi are best friends (soulmate if one were to ask how they felt about each other) since their eyes met. The breathless laughter of surprise warm happiness, the silly growls of hungry stomachs and the instant safety they never had once their names graced the empty air. They are best friends and would end the world for the other if it means keeping the other from harm. Dazai has proved this when he let himself get caught by the Port Mafia and beaten by someone he doesn’t care for. Atsushi proved this when they jumped off a flying whale, knowing Dazai is at the bottom waiting for him.

Best friends.

That’s why they have sleepovers every two days. (It would have been everyday but both fear the idea of co-dependency and actually having someone in their life. Almost as if having the person everyday was a dream that could be torn at any moment.) Why? Because it surprisingly helps them sleep better. So on the days of their sleepover, they would ditch work early (Dazai will do all his work, by himself the afternoon before to the lunch the next day. Cause a lot of strokes.) to run errands. Picking up groceries, snatching the latest horror films that Atsushi had been wanting to watch and Dazai was dreading.

The tiger vessel found it hilarious that the Ex-Mafia Executive hated scary movies.

Anyway! After they were done, they would head home and it doesn’t matter who’s home. (Atsushi, unsurprisingly, is the only one who has the knowledge of where Dazai truly lives.) So once at home, the dark brown hair man would play soft sound music with only instruments or opera music from different countries. (Carmen was Dazai’s favorite because he found the whole story hilarious while Atsushi found it annoying and stupid. Lion King was an agreeable favorite though.) The silver hair young adult would take out the pans and ingredients they needed.

It somehow became easy to cook with each other, more than they thought. Dazai would cut the vegetables, the meat or fish and toss it into pan. Atsushi to stir, fry and mix. Making a meal together made them feel human. Like they weren’t trapped in a clay golem created to hold them prisoner. Once everything goes quiet, Dazai will sometimes gaze into the air with empty eyes and softly tell his best friend the horrible shit he has done in the past. Especially what he did in the Port Mafia. Atsushi will listen with an open mind, knowing that one miss-step will cause the other to clamp up.

(He would always turn the stove off at these moments. These nights always took his full attention. Causing her to take deep even breathes to stop her shaking, to keep from spiraling at the thought of her person being like that blasted Headmaster. To try to process and work through the disgust he felt. They would slowly turn to their Osamu and ask in a soft tone if they could hug him. Never once did the idea of blackmail or punishment cross her mind. This would cause the rusted brown eyed male to break and talk about how truly empty he felt with his treatment of Akutagawa. Dazai would always be completely grateful for this and will cling to his tiger.)

In the same way, Atsushi will do the same. Talking about the orphanage and his treatment as if he was there in third person. (This too was never used as blackmail or a way to hurt the younger. In Dazai’s dark, fucked up mind this was the line no one cross.) Of course this led to conversation that neither could talk about. Like the last words of the dying Odasaku or the pain of brutal human experimentation or the hatred Book. Then when it was time to sleep, they will curl up (depending how they were filling that day, they would switch on who was the little spoon) and whisper their deepest, darkest wish they desperately beg would happen. Then they would fall into a comfortable silence as they listen to each other’s heart.

Then agency, mostly Yosano and Kunikida (both having their own sets of problems), don’t really understand why or how this became a tradition.

But Ranpo does.

He always knows.

He knows in the way how they stress on certain jobs then relax once they see the other’s figure. How they smile once they could hear the other’s voice. Could see how they pull each other from the past and enjoy the present. He could see how love and touch-starve these fools are desperately in need of a judgmental free zone. So quietly as he can, Ranpo helps in anyway he can. From babysitting Kyoka to running interference after life n’ death situation.

After all, he was the world’s greatest detective and knows that if one was gone then the other will follow. They were soulmates after all.

[nightcolorz]

Modern day lestat looks like she’s taking her estrogen 😭

YES!! YES!!! Thank you this is my favorite ask I’ve ever gotten

Modern day Lestat looks like she thinks about being called a sweet girl while she’s sentimentally crying in her coffin. Modern day Lestat looks like she has been looking into gender theory 🙏 Modern day Lestat looks like she wets her mascara so that ppl will ask her if she’s been crying just so she can act mysterious and vague about it. Modern day Lestat looks like she bought a skirt off Etsy and never wears it, just stares at it contemplatively. Modern day lestat looks like she’d say that every dude wishes they had a woman’s body sometimes in a rockstar interview and then get cancelled for queer baiting ❤️🙏

[jev-urisk]

A Musing Monday 🎐+

Trans Day of Visibility 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

'You don't know me. Clearly you don't care to know me. And that's your loss.'

That's what I've been telling the echoes in my head since last Thursday, when a woman followed me out of the Womens bathroom to ask in a scathing tone to which bathroom I belonged.

Now, I have a relationship with my gender which, like many Queer people, takes a bit to explain and doesn't really fit into binaries. I identify as trans-nonbinary and genderfluid, and I am also intersex. Some days I feel fem and want to wear dresses and feel pretty. Some days I feel masc and like a button-up with the sleeves rolled back. A lot of the time, I'm not even thinking about gender and just wear whatever seems fun while fitting with the activity or work im doing that day.

Thursday, I felt very fem. I put on my special lemon skirt and a nice blouse, put my hair up in a high clip- I felt it was a very cute work outfit! It seems other people thought so too. I was washing my hands in the bathroom (which is in the hallway of a building rented by multiple businesses, including my employers) when a woman starts washing as well and says "I like your skirt, thats very pretty."

To which I OF COURSE say, "Thanks! It has pockets~". I then dry my hands and as I exit shoot a, "Hope you have a nice day!" in her direction for happy measure.

I wasn't expecting her to follow me down the hall to the lobby of the building and ask loudly, scathingly, "Should you be using the *women's* bathroom??"

This struck me dumb. In my life I have recieved some side-eyeing or people walking away quickly, the whispers and urging a child not to stare- all sad, strange, and occasionally wryly amusing moments in places like gas station bathrooms where I go very infrequently.

But, this is the building I WORK in. This is where my car is parked much of the day. This is where I am sometimes alone in my office with nothing but glass between the lobby and myself.

I say "Yes." and by rote try to explain, try to staunch her confusion somehow. The doctors declared me female at birth but they were only kinda correct (i.e. intersex)- though I'm also trans by several definitions and have had an HRT prescription in the past, but I'm also *hella* fem today. I fumble. "I'm, um, inters-"

"I do NOT appreciate you being there!" She interrupts, jabbing a finger towards me, "It isn't appropriate!!" She adds, walking into the office on the opposite side of the lobby from me, glaring at me with disgust.

Numbly, I walk the rest of the way to my office. Un-numbly, I begin to tremble and realize this happened to me because I have a deep voice. She lived my skirt, but not more than she hated my voice. With shaking hands I message my direct supervisor and the COO of my company.

Hi, bit of an unfortunate update I want to give you two just in case there's any kind of trouble with our neighbors or something gets reported to the owner of the building. I was just told by a lady across the hall from us that I should not be using the women's bathroom and that it's inappropriate for me to be using that facility.

I feel bad in that engrained, vulnerable kind of way. I'm a fairly recent hire as far as administrators go- 4 months. I moved my office to this location just 2 weeks ago. Now I'm caught up in some issue, now someone who maybe works a couple dozen feet away might try to come after me- my ability to use the bathroom, at least. What if she calls the police on me? What do I do? I have an ID with 'F' on it but what if the cops hate my voice as well? What if she or the cops try to grope or sexually assult me to 'see' and 'prove' what I am? Would they even understand what they're looking at? What if she thinks people like me shouldn't EXIST, let alone be left alone to pee?

What if she's got a gun?

I decide to work down the hall, in our children's therapy office. I'm spiraling and shivering and my chest is filled with ice. I sit near a new hire watching training videos and try to breathe while I see my superiors typing.

What if I lose my job?

That fear, at least, lessens in the following moment as my little chatroom erupts with concern for me and questions of how I would like to proceed. Do I want to go home for the day? Do I want to move back to the farther office location?

I decide that I want to try having a normal day, and my COO says he will be at this location on Monday and can talk with the neighbors- An Adult Disability Support company, about the situation. I tell myself that maybe she was just a visitor, or the guardian of one of the clients over there. Maybe she's a client herself, and between a fixed perspective and a difficulty regulating her emotions she came at me like that- I've had clients of my own while working in disability support who have a determined passion over information that they unfortunately came upon. (I got nearly screamed out of a house before for implying Troy Bolton was actually an actor mamed Zac Efron. Which, totally my bad. I knew HSM was her very important thing but misjudged her perception of it).

Despite my desire for normal, my PTSD and Autistic overwhelm have other plans and my coworkers notice me struggling to stay calm. I had to ask one of them to take a picture of me- evidence of what I'm wearing, of the female-ness that I usually reject in myself but adopted because I felt pretty this morning. Why did I dare feel pretty this morning? At least when i'm a tomboy lesbian-dyke, people tend not to follow me out from the restroom.

After I send the picture to my boss for evidence, my coworkers ask me what's wrong. I feel hot shame at discussing a situation involving my need to pee with my coworkers, of being visibly afraid in front of them, of not being poised and professional, and of having thought I was pretty for a day in my life.

I am now, five days later, still gobsmacked at their support and compassion. They asked if I was ok, if there was something they could do, and if I wanted any of them to come with me next time to the bathroom. One of them came out to me as nonbinary as I sat nibbling a few kitkats to calm myself down. Their support gets me through the day, and they all let me know I'm not alone, and that my skirt IS very pretty.

My heart is warmed but unfortunately over the weekend, my mind is spinning like a record, playing the same song over and over and over. The woman follows me and I turn around again, and again, and again- each time with me trying to explain or defend myself a little differently.

"Don't you know some people are born different? You work with disabilities yourself." "Some women are really tall, or short. Some have thick eyebrows, or lose their hair, or *have deep voices*. Don't you know women are vibrant with differences?" "Were you in the room when my doctor and I discussed my voice? Why do you act like you know why my voice is like this- I didn't sign away my HIPPA to you." "Ma'am where do you SUGGEST I pee in my lemon skirt and pumps? On the lobby floor?"

But I can never win the argument in my head, the echo of the woman who demands to see my ID and calls it fake. The echo demands my birth certificate and tears it in two, insisting its forged. She demands to see my genitals and either determines I am mutilated, or that I have surgically made myself to be as I am. Nothing short of birthing a child in the lobby would convince the woman arguing in my mind where I am allowed to pee and here I was, sterile, ill-formed for such an activity, and far too gender-literate for the mental arguement of such a thing happening- maladaptive daydream or no.

It took up my whole weekend, this spiraling. Only two things gave me comfort- immagining telling that woman "You don't know me. Clearly you don't care to know me. And that's you're loss." Over and over, like a ryhme about sticks and stones your mom taught you as a child- and the other comfort was a birthday party I was hosting for my dear friend where I shared a meal, some card games, and my personal bathroom with a bunch of people who Do know me, and Do care, and are more concerned with whether I someone's got an Ace in their hand than whatever is under their skirt.

Fear fades to sorrow for that angry lady, for my staff, and for everyone in the building. Does this poor woman hate her own voice when she gets a headcold? Does she stare at every woman who isn't perfectly feminine and see a dangerous animal? What about the disabled people in her life? Are they admonished for existing in a way she doesn't expect? If my perfectly female coworker goes to a concert and comes to work with a broken voice the next day, will she go through what I went through? If a client needs help toileting and a member of the opposite sex is assisting them, will the cops be called?

I remind myself that she doesn't know me. That she clearly doesn't care to know me. And that it is her loss. I remind myself that I'm brave, over and over while I drive to work on Monday. My COO will talk to our neighbors today, and I dont know what will happen. It's been suggested that I could use the children's toilet in our other office. It's meant kindly, but sounds an awful lot like a separate water fountain. My nonbinary coworker said they're scared to pee now- my adult, trained and licensed for administering therapy, coworker.. is scared to use the bathroom.

That makes me angrier than anything this woman could possibly do to me. Maybe I should DARE this woman to call the cops, if only to show my coworker I will be brave for us, that I'm not letting fear control my life.

But something unexpected happened today, coincidentally, on Trans Day of Visibility.

The owner was 100% on board and actually already spoke to the employee. The owner said the employee came to her all concerned/upset and she told her to stop and that they have trans clients and it's not appropriate or worthwhile to go after people living their lives.

Recieving the news was like a fever breaking. I didn't realize how much I had been holding my breath (and my bladder) the entire morning. They understood?? Not only did this other business understand but they're offering their services to members of my community?

I obviously wish it hadn't happened, that I hadn't stayed worried and desperate every day and awake and scared every night over the weekend. But, I'm overwhelmed gratithe relief of everything that happened after- the immidiate support of administration, the kind eords of my coworkers, and the mended fence with my new and wonderful neighbors.

Happy fucking Trans Day of Visibility, yall. I see you, and maybe more people on the outside see us for what we are than we think. The people who have a problem clearly don't know you, clearly don't care to know you, AND THAT IS THEIR LOSS.

Taglist @the-golden-comet @gioia-writes-and-others @lychhiker

[sophieinwonderland]

The hatesub r/systemscringe are being full-on transphobes again!

Reminder: a huge number of systems have alters and headmates with completely different genders and sexes from the body.

Anyone who has ever studied any type of multiplicity is aware of this fact.

And not-so-shockingly, this makes gender complicated.

Let's just see the screenshots they're angry at today.

So the body has transitioned to male but this one headmate identifies as female and identifies as a trans woman.

In another screenshot, the system says they aren't "invading trans spaces." Which is such an absurd thing to have to defend yourselves from accusations of when you're a part of a trans system.

Even if you do take the position that spaces for transwomen should be exclusionary AFAB people, one would at least expect the male headmates to be able to feel safe in the trans community without being made to feel like they're "invaders."

Unfortunately, many pluralphobes and queer exclusionists have decided the gender identity of headmates in systems is less valid than that of singlets.

This is another pretty common thing. Especially with introjects who have source memories. It's common to have memories of lives you may not have actually lived but still feel pretty real.

I did a Tumblr poll last year. About half of systems responding had at least one trans headmate with the same gender as the body's AGAB. Nearly all had cis headmates with the opposite gender of the body.

Of course, if you heard it from r/systemscringe, they must be faking being trans entirely!

And takes like this throw not just systems under the bus, but also people who are genderfluid or otherwise nonbinary as well.

And if you're thinking, "wow, that comment sounds like something truscum would say," you aren't wrong!

Here are some unrelated posts this same user has authored:

Back to r/systemscringe, most of the comments were more of the same, stopping just short of calling them transtrenders but clearly very much wanting to!

By the way, all the censors on the names of the system and alters were mine. u/superthrowawayEEE censored nothing. When a user points this out, moderator u/DizkoLites says they considered taking it down but chose not to, saying their name was common enough that it wouldn't matter.

To be fair, the mods did end up taking it down... after the system got harassed for their gender and contacted the subreddit directly.

So congrats on waiting until after the harassment to enforce your own rules!

But don't worry, you're free to make a brand new post mocking someone for their gender identity! r/systemscringe's mod team is totally cool with that! Just gotta hide the name because that's apparently the only problem here!🙄

(You know, unless they're on the mod-approved hit list. Then you can name them too no matter how much harassment they get.)

The other day, someone asked this question on the hatesub:

Here's the answer:

Stop being bigots.

Stop being ableists.

Stop spreading misinformation.

Stop mocking people for their genders.

Stop harboring truscum and parroting transphobic talking points!

Try to be decent human beings for once in your lives!

And then... well, I guess that wouldn't leave much of a subreddit would it? There's no r/systemscringe without ableism, transphobia and queer exclusionism. It's baked into the DNA of these groups.

But maybe that would be for the best.

Nothing from these cringe communities is salvageable. And nothing should be socially acceptable about groups founded on cyberbullying.

[possibly-a-secunit]

I found out the other day that my best friend in the entire fucking world thinks that reverse racism is real, along with hetero/cisphobia. This is devastating as a trans POC, and I... Don't know what to do. I know I can't change his damn mind, but I can't just... Stop talking to him. I've known him for most of my life, he's gotten me through some of the hardest things I've ever been through, but.... Seriously? How? How can you come from a place of privilege and say "yes, someone directing racial prejudice towards me is the same as the years of mistreatment your people faced at the hands of white people"?

I just don't fucking get it. I'm trying to believe that this is coming from a place of ignorance, that it's because thats what his parents believe, but... I don't know.

And when I tried to explain why it isn't the same, he said we better just stop talking about it.

So what the FUCK do I do now

[toast-the-corgi]

Better Call Saul Jimmy McGill Catsona fan art be upon you

Drew this at the request of my good friend @shishkab I love being weird Better Call Saul freaks with you bestie <3

[ratwizz]

I drew Jun Bug!!! Also some other old oc doodles

[hoarder-of-rats]

I don’t know about you guys, but since the end of April I’ve been keeping track of my gender (made one of those Year In Pixels but for gender) and I noticed something odd.

You know that joke everyone in the Alphabet Fandom makes about us being liquid and freezing when it’s cold?

My gender changes less frequently the colder it gets, and the warmer it is, the more frequently it changes

For real! During winter, I had my gender stay the same for 1 and a half weeks, but during summer there were times where I’d start the day with one gender and end with another.

Is anyone else like this?!?