#gay sparkly flower fox???

[matchbet-allofthetime]

REMINDER GO EVERYONE LGBT OR WHO SUPPORTS US!! (I've gone through every letter in lgbt at least once on my neverending journey, I'm allowed to say this)-

words like:

Butch

Dyke

Bulldyke

Faggot/fag

Muffmuncher

Cocksucker

Fruity

Gay

Queer

Homosexual

Transvestite/Transsexual/transgender (all ways to refer to those with different genders at birth to what they are and they are NOT outdated because they are STILL used, primarily by older queer folks and they deserve to be mentioned! Sick of the fucking discourse.)

Stone butch

Bulldagger

Faghag

Munch

Down-low

Tranny

Betty/a Betty Boop (very similar to femme and other related terms. Also seems to be colloquial to my general area?? Not sure if it or similar is used elsewhere, colloquial and local differences change a lot that you don't realize until you come across what it meansssss elsewhere. Used to refer to lesbians that are very traditionally femme and have big eyes and short hair. Also refers to specifically red lipstick wearers.

Bisexual (those who like men and women/the definition of bisexual most know widely and ALSO someone who is BOTH A MAN AND A WOMAN/ANOTHER COMBINATION. it has been and STILL IS used both ways. Respect that. The older generations coined many of your terms. Things change, but you don't get to tell someone how they identify.)

Bent

Bussy

En femme/en homme

Molly/Tommy

Tomboy/tomgirl

Flower/floral

Friend of Dorothy

Twink

Twunk

Batty/batty boy

Bender

Fairy

Fruit loop

Pansy

Sod

Bambi

Boi (UK origin, akin to dyke, butch, and tomboy)

Rug muncher

Kitty/pussy puncher/muncher

Muff diver

Stud

Pack o' cigs/Pack o' fags (self explanatory, this seems to be a colloquial term in my hometown and surrounding counties. Pack o' cigs is a pack of, traditionally, butches/dykes. Pack o' fags is the gay male equivalent. I grew up hearing this one directed toward me a LOT lmao)

AC/DC (pan/bi, swings whatever way. US term.)

Lady boy/boy girl/girl boy (can be used in many ways, but typically refers to a boy who is also a girl, a femme boy, femboy, or similar concepts)

Femboy

Traggot (a combining of tranny and faggot)

T girl/t guy/t boy

Trap (widely used even now as a slur or derogatory word, but I have met many who this is their identity to some degree. Respect that. They're queer too.)

Cuntboy/pussyboy/dick girl/girl dick

Fag stag

Bear

Pup

Cub

Bull

Silver fox

...And about a million other words through thousands of other anguages across the entire world-

Are NOT dirty, filthy, disgusting, nasty, used incorrectly, or "aren't to be used by anything other than XYZ individual in the LGBT community and nobody else."

They aren't dirty words. They aren't disgraceful or filthy unless the user of the term says "yeah, I'm fucking filthy! I'm disgraceful! Fuck yeah!"

If someone says they're a dyke? They're a fucking dyke. If someone says they're anything on this list or use any queer term? Fucking let them.

Here's why:

Use LGBT people have used any words thrown at us, handed to us, words we've been beaten with, words we've held onto with our lives and anger and love, words that have been used for us, against us, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, BY US for decades and in some cases even so long as a a century or more.

A masc straight woman is still called a dyke. A faggot. Thus, if she chooses, she's still a fucking dyke.

What we're always called or what we find fits us will always become our identity in some way or another somehow sometime.

That happens.

I've had every fucking word you've got and I guarantee ones you've never heard of thrown at me since I was a toddler, running around in mud-stained blue and red converse and a Barbie dress with a mohawk in my hair. I've heard them since I was in an AC/DC band tee, sparkly shorts, galaxy leggings, and glittery roller skates.

I and MILLIONS OF OTHERS LIKE ME, lgbt or otherwise, those who "I just dealt with what they called me. I was gonna be called that anyways so I don't care anymore. I have no gender/sexuality/preference/label/etc but I answer to it all/it's a part of me now but I'm not lgbt in my own mind" are FUCKING VALID FOR THIS.

Stop fighting your own fucking community. Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop. I have been called everything on this list except for a few (because I am obviously not a bear when you look at me not a silver fox or whatever) my entire fucking life.

I am agender. I am aro/ace. I am also a faggot. A dyke. A butch. Nonbinary. Transsexual. Tranny. Pup. Boyslut. Fagdyke.

And so many others are like me like this. So many others consider these words a part of themselves.

These are OUR slurs to reclaim. These are words we made a d for the ones we didn't? We took them and wore them like fucking crowns. We wore them like they were our favourite collars, our favourite leather, our favourite words. We fucking own these words like we own ourselves and it is nobody's choice but your FUCKING OWN whether or not they're used.

Yes, there's nuance with some. I understand that. "Stud" for example is for lesbian OR "LESBIAN-APPEARING" BLACK AFABS! But I've been called stud and I am the whitest, pastiest bitch you'll meet. I continue to have black drag queens and kings and royalties and other black folk who are queer come up to me and tell me "oh baby you're such a handsome stud!" While at pride events.

I am and also am not a woman. Not a man but also I am. But I gleefully use the word dyke and fag and femboy and roseboy and pup and cub (my moddy's nickname for years was cub/cubby. Friends of theirs HAVE CALLED THEM THAT IN FRONT OF ME SINCE I WAS A BABY. thus I am called cub or cub's cub or similar.) And I use these words with nothing but pride and spite and joy and hate and love and fucking glee. Because they're mine. They're ours.

People of all kinds, all genders, all sexualities, all paths and walks of life, have been subjected at least a hundred times to at least one of these words if they're even slightly "not right" or different or weird or wrong in the eyes of whatever stupid ass societal expectations there are.

And they all deserve to use these words if they make them comfortable. These people KNOW they're lgbt terms. Fucking trust me. They learn from experience or get taught it by someone and either drop the terms or don't. That's their choice. And that choice is okay.

Stop attacking your own community. Stop attacking the "outsiders" because oftentimes the "outsiders" are part of us but don't feel like they can claim to be lgbt. Especially older generations. Older generations (which includes millennials and even a lot of older gen z and literally everyone alive) don't think they can consider or call themselves a part of us for numerous reasons.

These reasons can be it isn't safe for any variety of reasons, these people grew up being called these things and always claimed cis and/or get because the terminology at the time wasn't like it is now in the same way, certain genders were more accepted than others (IE bisexuals and lesbians and gays and straights was most of what you had, alongside men, women, and transgender man/woman, which were and still are seen as often groups, for better or worse.) And there wasn't fuck all else. Fucking nada. Zilch. Not in most cultures, certainly not in fucking America. These people are often part of us even if they don't consider themselves as being part of us.

Definitions have changed. Contexts have changed. You'll find that we (and this is ESPECIALLY going out to any gen z out here)- we have called ourselves whatever the fuck we have wanted to forever. And we always will. And we always should. We will reclaim terms/slurs and make new terms and shit, I love being called a slur, by my own people or people who intend it to hurt me. It's fucking funny.

It has all changed and will continue to. That's the way it is. Don't discount other people's experiences or histories or whatever else just because you don't know the full story or "I just don't like it". News flash- isn't your fucking life babes.

Anyways, long-ass rant over. Needs to be said. I'm sayin it.

Any beautiful, handsome, fantastic motherfuckers out there who wanna comment your identity, favourite terms for yourself, etc? Wanna call me a slur, regardless of which way, good or bad, you intend it?

Light me the fuck up, yo. Hand me the lighter and pass the weed, I've always liked playing with fire.

[dreaming-of-the-end]

This Is What Burns: Brant x Jolie

A/N: comments/reblogs are better than birthday cake! In which I kill people as always. @gay-otlc​‘s fault for enabling me!

Summary: Everything he loves about her is everything that makes her dangerous. Her fire can't be put out by closing his fist. His fire can't be extinguished with a smile and a wave.

TW: death, fire/burning/ash/smoke/etc, injury/burns, tell me if I should add more!

Taglist: @steppingonshatteredglass @real-smooth @sunset-telepath @dreaminq-out-loud  @stardustanddaffodils @jaxtheoraliestanner  @spellbound-fire @turquoise-skyyyy @swearing-parrot @silveredviolets @wu-marcy  @b-blurryyfacee  @rune-and-rising @lavender-and-rainy-days @chasteliac @confusedamphibian @hellomyfriends @cadence-talle @kai-i-guess @callas-starkflower-stew @a-harmless-poison @professionalwhalewatcher @theogony @keeper-of-the-jew-jew @gay-otlc @countingthestarsaboveourheads @everblaeze-and-balefire @confuzzled-fox 

(after)

Everything is cold. And something in that strikes Brant as vaguely (ever so vaguely, like the thought is wrapped in silky smoke, smooth and welcome and mysterious and nothing that he can catch in his hands) off.

Not dangerous, necessarily. Something he isn't used to, more like.

He can't quite remember the moment before the chill set into his bones.

(see, it all blends together, those moments before. they were all the same, all burning)

There, a flash. Something he can piece together.

Fear.

No, not fear. Something worse, something like panic-filled terror, like when you're falling and it's too late to catch yourself before you hit the ground.

He cracks open his eyes, and it's never been this hard to come out of one of his fiery trances before but now it is. It's like his balance has been thrown off. It's like he's missing something— no, like something has been carved from him.

Or burned away.

Suddenly, he can't breathe. The air is thick with ash.

Brant isn't cold anymore.

He's burning.

...

(before)

"Hello," Jolie smiles. It's one of the things he loves about her, the way she can make a word smile. The way she can wrap the word up in a little bow and sparkly wrapping paper and give it to him, a little gift every time she speaks.

"Hello," he says back, because Jolie is infectious. You can't help but catch the fever of her, let yourself be corrupted and lose yourself in who she is. She's the kind of disease that makes you want to drink from a poisoned well just to let yourself be desecrated by her. That's what they are, the two of them. The drinker and the poison. "Are the violets blooming?"

"Bright as can be," she laughs, like she always does.

Violets: her. Everything is her. Everything is blooming.

Even Brant, when he's with her. He lets a spark dance on his fingertips, and she leans a little closer to follow it with her eyes. His fire fascinates her the way her smile fascinates him, like she's drinking it in and it tastes new every time.

She makes him want to look in the mirror and like what he sees.

He makes fire flowers grow for her. He makes the sun shine a little brighter for her. He can do anything and everything for her. Burn down the world, if he wants. Start over with just the two of them, no one else to whisper whenever they go out hand in hand.

(which isn't often. even with Fintan's guiding hand, the fires are harder to control when he's angry. he's angry all the time when he's with people other than her. he didn't used to be)

Jolie reaches out a hand, and he closes his fist before he burns her, extinguishing his fire.

"Don't touch, violet," he reminds her, but he knows that she won't, not really. Fire isn't real to her after all this time she's spent playing with it, marrying it as thoroughly as she's going to marry him, but even an illusion can shatter and tear your skin with its glass.

Still, she pouts exaggeratedly, then smiles again. It's strange, how she has this unending supply of happiness, like there's light shining out of her skin and unlike his, it doesn't burn. You can't catch the rays of sun in your hand, can't capture them in your palm and draw them close to your heart.

"I love you, violet," he says to this sunbeam of his, her cheeks flushed with lively pink.

...

(after)

He shudders, a quick movement. Or maybe the world is rocking around him.

Brant blinks slowly, to get the ash out of his eyes. There's a pain in his chest every time he inhales, like he broke a rib, maybe more. He won't know until he moves, but moving means facing the truth of what he did. And if he doesn't move, then it doesn't have to be true.

He coughs. Waits until he can breathe.

He can't breathe.

...

(before)

"Brant," Jolie says slowly, and the smile is still frozen on his face when he looks at her. Frozen, like he can bring back the sparkle in her eye. It was there just a moment ago. What did he say?

"Jolie," he says, very seriously, like this is a game that he knows the rules to even though he's never heard this kind of voice from her before.

"I need to ask you something." These words aren't little gifts, little smiles. They're stones, plunking into a river, sinking to the bottom. "Something important."

"Yes?" The smile is gone from his face, like there was an external energy source for it, powering his mood until it shut off with the twinkle in Jolie's eye. His sunbeam. "What's wrong?"

"I want you to join the Black Swan," she says, and the stone hits him in the throat, choking off his response.

He can't breathe.

"Jolie—"

"Listen, I know that you're part of the Neverseen. I know that you train with Fintan, and I know that you care about this. But if you keep burning and burning and burning, you're gonna run out of fuel. The Black Swan can help—"

"Can they?" Brant opens his fist, snaps his fingers. Fire sparks there in his hand, licking at his skin hungrily, greedy for more than he can give it. It's alive, like a sunbeam, like a violet, but it's too unstable to survive for long. He lets it leap up in his hand, just for a moment; a pillar of flame reaching to the sky, to the sun, to the clouds before it shrinks and becomes a flower in the base of his palm again. "Can they help with this?"

Jolie follows the fire with her eyes. It's terrifying, sometimes, how much she loves the heat and danger of it. It's wild like she is, but she has anchors to keep her grounded. The only thing keeping this fire from turning the world to ash is Brant's will, and it's a rare day he has complete control.

Really, he should put out the heat. His anger is rising. This isn't safe for either of them.

"Can you try?" Jolie asks in the way she always does, in her stubbornness, her roots digging deep. He can see the path ahead of them, then; this argument stretching into the distance. He doesn't think there's another road to follow. He won't budge on this, and neither will she.

"No."

She knows it, too. "Don't be stubborn."

This is who the two of them are. Stubborn and planted in their battlegrounds. Opposite sides of a war against a common enemy. Everything he loves about her is everything that makes her dangerous. Her fire can't be put out by closing his fist. His fire can't be extinguished with a smile and a wave.

He can't stand the look in her eyes. Like she thinks he can still be swayed to her side.

The flame leaps before he realizes he asked it to.

...

(after)

The world is too cold around him, like there's nothing left to burn. But if Fintan has taught him one thing, it's that there is always something left to burn.

And if it has to be him, so be it.

He moves his leg. Then his hand. Then his arm.

He can move. He can face this.

Brant lifts his head.

...

Even when it escapes his grasp, explodes out of control, she doesn't scream.

Instead, she takes a step forward. Towards him. Her steps are unsure as the fire grows larger. One of the rosebushes that Jolie took so much time to grow and nurture bursts into flame. She doesn't flinch.

"Brant?" Her voice is cautious. She has never been cautious for a single moment, not when she stepped out of the matchmaker's office with one-hundred meaningless names clenched tightly, crumpling in her fist, not when she left for the Elite Levels (and left him behind), not when he gave her his ring and she threw her arms around his neck. But now, she's cautious.

This isn't the fire she knows. This isn't the Brant she knows.

He clenches his fist to put the fire out. It shouldn't have gone this far. The fire grows instead of extinguishing.

He's lost control.

Her face tightens. She knows everything about him, every expression he can't keep tamped down. "Brant."

"I'm trying," he grist out, clenching his fist again and again. It does nothing. The fire is feeding on his panic, and the temperature is growing, and the worst part is he likes this, the feeling when your hunger is quenched. He's spent so long trying to repress this but it feels so good to let go.

He doesn't remember making the decision to let go. But it happens anyway.

...

(after)

The world is made out of smoke and fire.

He can't feel the heat, but he can feel pain in his lungs every time he inhales, from smoke and heat. If he looks like this, even when he was protected by his ability, even when he was flung far away from the fire, then Jolie must

she

no

no

no

...

Jolie grabs his hand like her touch can possibly calm him down. And then she screams, tugs away from him, holds her blistered hand up to her mouth. "Brant, you're burning. You're burning yourself out."

"I'm trying—" There are tears running down his face with the effort, straining, but all he's doing is raising his body temperature. He's a candle, and he's dripping to the ground, losing himself, disappearing.

You are not the fire's slave. You are not its master. You are its friend. Welcome it in, Brant, Fintan tells him in memory, in thought, in prayer. Welcome your friend inside. Fire is a dinner guest, and you serve it more than ashes.

"Violet, violet, I'm so sorry." She's crying, too. It's the smoke in her eyes, the force of her coughing as the smoke reaches her lungs. His sunbeam. His smile. His gift. "I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry."

She reaches for him again, but he brandishes his hands out to keep her away from his burning burning burning body.

And a firestorm explodes from his hands, so powerful that he's tossed backward, away from it.

Away from her.

Away from her light.

Away from his fire.

Jolie screams. Unending.

Smoke chokes him. Infects him like she did, like the poison well he's been drinking from since the day they met. He's a Roman emperor who drinks a little poison each day and hopes it's enough for when a big dose comes. Jolie's a shooting star, a bright flash and gone, screaming and screaming and screaming.

His sunbeam withers into ash. His violet dies. He's fracturing.

It's too hot for tears to form.

He can't hear her screams anymore.

Maybe she's gone.

...

(after)

"Jolie," Brant whispers through a cracked throat. She's not dead because fire is your friend, your companion, your dinner guest, Brant and if you let it master you, then the friendship is over and be careful. never work with fire when you're angry. it responds to emotions.

He wasn't angry. He can never be angry at her.

Why didn't he listen when Fintan warned him?

His gift. His Jolie. His sun.

She lies on the ground; he can see her. Her hair is not laid out in a halo around her head. Her eyes are not closed. Her lips are not parted slightly, as if waiting for her chance to speak. This is not like death he has read about.

She is covered in burns.

He is nearly unscathed.

Collapsing to the ground next to her is too small of a movement. Pressing his cheek to her ruined chest is too complicated. He does both anyway, searching for a heartbeat when he knows there is none. Her skin is hot as the sun, like there's a fire burning in her from the inside out even though the fire is gone and burned out.

This is what burns him.

When he brings his lips to her ravaged cheek. When he skates his fingers along her face, lets his tears water her body. It's agonizing.

This is what burns.

Him, and his violet. Ash.

...

there is no happy ending

...

...

...

[mrmagoriumswonderpussy]

Val Speaks!!

Tagged by @brohorel who is SO AMAZING go follow!!! They said I could answer from me or from ep but I thought I would give y'all some information about me 💜

name: Val nickname: V zodiac: Pisces height: 5′9" orientation: panromantic lesbian favourite fruit(s): uh…..idk man. mangoes, kiwis, peach favourite season: tbh all of them but I love fall and spring. oh and also winter. and summer. favourite book(s): omfg any book. mysterious benedict society is a fav tho favourite flower(s): buttercups :) favourite animal(s): cats and foxes favourite beverage: I love tea and hot coco but I’m also a sucker for orange soda average hours of sleep: Haha none. Well like normally a mix of like half an hour and 14 hours. Who knows my dudes. Favorite fictional characters: ALL THE LES MIS CHARACTERS. Also Kurt, Blaine, and Mercedes from glee and Robyn from himym number of blankets you sleep with: Too many dream trip: Italy. ALSO NYC EVEN THO IVE BEEN THERE REPEATEDLY LMAO number of followers: 33? I’m not really sure but ik it’s not many. I LOVE ALL OF YOU THO a - age: 14
b - birthplace: ohio 
c - current time: 8:21
d - drink you last drank: a shit ton of water
e - easiest person to talk to: nix but she doesn’t know this blog is mine shhhhh
f - favourite song: How TF do I choose. All the showtunes!!
g - grossest memory: ew um so I have this eye phobia and (ommataphobia tw) my dad had to get surgery on his eye and I was talking to him and it started bleeding and I can’t talk about it any more or I may just pass out
h - horror yes or no? A solid hell no from me. 
i - in love? ………………..?????maybe???
j - jealous of people? Ugh I swear I try not to be but… that’s working haha nope I am very jealous sorry 
k - killed someone? Not yet 😂
l - love at first sight or should i walk past again? Depends on the person???
m - middle name: …..no comment 
n - number of siblings: Zero
o - one wish? To be on Broadway!!
p - person you last called? My best friend 
q - question you’re always asked: Are you SURE you’re gay
r - reason to smile: EVERYTHINGGGG😊
s - song you last sang: don’t stop believing😂😂
t - time you woke up: 7:30 am
u - underwear color: white
v - vacation: Camp or NYC 
w - worst habit: drumming on everything 
x - x-rays: only the teeth kind. Never broken a bone tho 
y - your favourite food: I love. Every food. 
z – what are you asking me lmao

A huge thank you to the lovely @brohorel for tagging me in this

I’ll tag @pontmarius @enjolrouge @hfullofblagden @sociallyawkwardparrot @grangratree @butts-of-the-barricade @glitterfeyrac @sparkly-courf @ghost-grantaire @just-french-me-up @pilferingapples @softgrantaire @ugh-jolras @ughchillles

[driftless1900]

TaggyMcDaggy

I was tagged by @galaxies-above-us so let's get this done boi coke or pepsi: no soda pls disney or dreamworks: disney?? coffee or tea: hot chocolate haa books or movies: Books windows or mac: windows but I use a hackintosh at school so dc or marvel: i guess marvel x-box or playstation:(Nintendo) no I guess Xbox dragon age or mass effect: Mass effect? (I haven't seen dragon age) night owl or early riser: NIGHT OWL cards or chess: Both? chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate me bab vans or converse: Sketchers *bricked* Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: wHat fluff or angst: yes idk angst? beach or forest: ummmm beach I guess dogs or cats: fox clear skies or rain: clear skies cooking or eating out: I like to cook spicy food or mild food: Mild halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: Halloweeeeeen would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: A little too cold if you could have a superpower, what would it be: the power to change probabilities or shapeshifting animation or live action: Animated babe paragon or renegade: a wot baths or showers: Hot showers team cap or team ironman: team spiderman fantasy or sci-fi: uh uhhh fantasy?????? do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they: hell if I know "smile always" "this is fine" "no" harry potter or percy jackson: Percy Jackson when you feel accomplished: i did it stop dying goddamn star wars or star trek: star wars paperback books or hardback books: yes horror or rom-com: no please tv shows or movies: both favorite animal: fennic fox favorite genre of music: *cough* vocaloid *hACK* least favorite book: walden Fook of Thoreau favourite season: I kinda like winter sparkly or shiny: Shiny Cinema or theatre: Theatre (even tho I'm gonna major in film) Salty or savory food: give food yess Road trips or airplane flights: Airplane Gay or European: why? Gay Favourite music instrument: Piano?? Favourite flowers: I guess I like forget me nots and stuff If you had been the opposite sex to your birth sex, what would you have been called: Tyler Anthony I'm gonna tag @hideoutfromreality @jackalopejess @axl-fox (I'm soorry but I love your blogs) and also anyone that sees this and wants to do it!

[letitproducejoy-blog]

My son's gender-nonconformance does challenge me.

I'm going to start this post off with a paragraph I read on a blog: Before anyone asks, no, I’m not some sort of new age, millennial, hipster chic parent living in a commune, attempting to raise genderless, nameless offspring who will one day grow up and decide these things independent of their father and me. (Okay, so maybe I am that parent, perhaps even worse. But I think this should be prefaced with, "I never intended to raise my child as my son... it's just, he had other plans for me.) My son was just shy of two when he started wearing nail polish. I have a ton of colors, and he picked a shiny blue to decorate his tiny nails, little jellybeans dancing on the ends of his fingertips. I thought very little of it at the time, thinking it was cute and, shoot, blue. He babied those nails and showed them off to everyone he could. He's about four and a half now, and today, he wanted to wear sparkly press-on nails to go with his pink button-down shirt. For picture day. And ya damn right, that's what he's wearing. His outfit for picture day, entirely his choice. Including the glitter press-on nails. 😍✨💕 #tychothekid #tychoandnoodle #realmenwearpink #genderbenderA post shared by Stephanie Fox (@letitproducejoy) on Nov 10, 2017 at 5:54am PST I always believed myself a progressive mom who refused to let gender norms dictate what her son did or wanted. To this point, it's been relatively simple, even adorable: The female-centered Paw Patrol shirts from the girls' section, the rainbow tutu and pink galoshes (two sizes too big but worn every day for over a week), and the manicures -- we've upgraded from simple nail polish to the full-on at-home salon experience. But recently, I've been tested. My little gender-creative child recently asked me for a dress. And not just any dress, but one with sequins and glitter and entirely white. Tycho found and wanted to get some pink galoshes and this amazing tutu. 😍 #tychothekid #independentkid #realmenwearpink #realmenweartutusA post shared by Stephanie Fox (@letitproducejoy) on Oct 8, 2017 at 12:59pm PDT It may have something to do with recently marrying my soulmate, an experience and a subject that deserves a post all of its own. I bought two dresses off Amazon, one lace and form-fitting, the other adorned with silver details and tulle. A few weeks ago, Tycho wanted me to try both of them on, and though his preference was for the latter, in each instance, he gasped and said, "Mommy, you look like a princess." It took me a while for the stars in my eyes to dissipate, I won't lie! A couple days later, he asked me for a dress. "A princess dress, like what you have for when you get married!" I paused for a second... did he want a dress because he wanted to be more like Mommy, or did he sincerely want a dress? I told him sure, I'll look around for one, and that was pretty much that. I've already had to go through a rather painstaking effort to get both his classmates and his preschool teachers on board with his penchant for polish and glitter and all things whimsical. Kids have come up to me asking why Tycho is wearing nail polish, and most of the time, it was averted by saying, "He likes to wear it." And I've had to correct a teacher for saying pink is a "girl color" by noting every color is for every kid, and please don't make my son feel ashamed or wrong for liking pink.  Now that they've known him for a few years, literally no one bats an eye at the polish or the pink or anything else wild he comes up with. Tycho requested rainbow nails, so we all have rainbow nails. 🌈 #pridemonth #lgbtqiaplus #tychothekid #nails @doggedveganA post shared by Stephanie Fox (@letitproducejoy) on Jun 3, 2017 at 1:13pm PDT But a dress? I admit, this one is even difficult for me to wrangle. Guess there's more gender normative behavior engrained in me than I like to admit, especially since it's now personal. But maybe he dropped the matter entirely, right...? As Tycho examined and admired his glittering pastel fingertips on the way to preschool, I asked if he still wanted a dress for maybe Christmas or Thanksgiving. He misunderstood me at first, thinking I was asking if he wanted to wear one: "For both!" I clarified it'd be for a present, and he was still insistent on wanting one. "Umm... white, and sparkles, and poofy." I simply can't deny this is who my son is. Shoot, at Target yesterday, he quickly and almost recklessly abandoned a set of Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas for a two-set of footie jammies, one gray background with colorful birds and one pink and white polka dot with a large pink fox face. The disappointment in his eyes when I told him they were 5T and he still fits in 3T was palpable, and we hunted that damn clearance rack until we found his size. The moment we got home, he had those jammies on. Before he was born, Matt and I had a few discussions about what we would do if Tycho was gay. Obviously, we'll love him no matter what; that's not at all predicated on who or what he is. At this point, I don't think Tycho is gay, but it's very clear that he's gender-nonconforming (or, as another beautiful article put it and how I'll always consider it, gender creative). And I never thought I'd be challenged by it, but here we are. His happiness, though, far outweighs my desire to be comfortable, so this Christmas, he'll be getting a white dress. I'll be a bit anxious about it, I totally admit that; this is more pushing my boundaries than it is his, since he's clearly comfortable with his decision. We owe it to our children to let them make their own decisions and, so long as it doesn't harm others (and I don't mean their delicate sensibilities!), to not force them to conform to whatever society deems "appropriate." Tycho knows himself, far more than I ever will, even with the privilege of being his mom. I owe my trust to him, and he deserves every ounce of unconditional love I have. So he'll have that. And his little white dress. And all the love and support he could ever want. My flower child. 🌺😍 #tychothekid #lethimbegreatA post shared by Stephanie Fox (@letitproducejoy) on Sep 14, 2017 at 5:22pm PDT http://dlvr.it/Q0GQyW