#my gender basically

[soullessjack]

Cal, which of Azazel's Special Children do you think would get along with Jack best?

hmmmmmm either Andy because he’s silly and everyone loves Andy or Lily bc they’d have some relatability to dangerous powers I think :3

[ash-and-starlight]

humble contribution

[hellojuiceboxbaby]

Regulus is the type of sibling that would make fun of the way Sirius dresses (calling him tacky and tasteless every chance he gets) and then turns around and steals the very clothes he this is “unfashionable”. He’ll walk around the house in Sirius’ band tshirts and be caught leaving the house in his leather jackets because “they look better with his outfit” than anything he owns himself. Regulus will look him up and down and without blinking say “you’re going out dressed like that” and then copy the outfit word for word a week later.

[ciderjacks]

Rule #2: The locksmith will not be required to participate in battle

(read this post and this post for more context lol)

[egberts]

A haunted herse Pokémon called ‘cardaver’

anon, this idea spoke to me when i first got this ask a few months ago, and after a lot of procrastination and a little bit of drawing, I present to you:

hauntwheel, cardaver, and vanslaughter

they look like cars but they are pokemon

[ashleyloob]

I see this thing that bi femmes do a lot when they date men, they constantly harp about how much they want a gf but that they settled for a mediocre man like... trust me I get it girls are hot but why would you put down your partner like that 😭

[andr0nap]

cowboy au but i commit to the lack of horses on no mans land

[theeretblr]

hi, i saw your recent ask and i was wondering. how do you build an androgynous/femme outfit? especially for AMAB people who tend to have a more rectangular body shape.

thanks in advance!!

I think being able to separate clothing from gender is an important part of being able to present how you want to present.

Of course, there is a lot of cultural pressure around certain pieces of clothing being associated with certain gender presentations. However, I find that clothing is not the main thing that helps me with androgyneity. For me, that would be shapewear in the form of hip pads, butt pads (these are basically boxer shorts with inserts for specifically shaped pads), and breast forms.

Here is how I present most days I go out compared with a more masc look:

The main differences between these are the makeup and the shapewear for the femme look. Otherwise, the cargo pants are the same, and the vneck t-shirts are the same brand.

[jesncin]

Hello, I had a question. When it comes to who is the "true Kal El" some pieces of media lean towards Clark being his true self, while others lean more towards Superman being his true self. I was wondering what your preferred version of Kal's "true self" is. Personally, I prefer a mix, where both are true, but both involve a little pretending too (depending on who he's around).

Generally I think convos that focus on "Is Clark Kent or Kal-El the truer self" are trying to fit Superman into a Batman mold where that simply isn't the case for Superman's themes. Since Superman is an allegorical immigrant, I see the Kal-El name (therefore original personhood) as his cultural name and the Clark Kent name (therefore adopted cultural personhood) as the assimilated-into-America name. Let's focus in on the meaning of names to talk about "true self". If we compare this to the diaspora experience, we'd recognize that having multiple names is more complicated than just "which one is the real me".

Clark grew up with the name "Clark Kent" for most of his life, it's a name given to him by people who love him and had no clue where he really came from. Kal-El is a name given by his birth parents, but he barely remembers them from being sent away as a baby. It makes sense that even though he grew up with "Clark Kent" as his name, that he'd feel attachment to "Kal-El". It's all that's left of a nearly extinct culture. So much like how you'll meet migrants with multiple names, they can have complicated feelings about both names. Maybe they'll only use one of their names around family, maybe only some trusted few get to learn about it, maybe some are embarrassed by their given names.

In terms of persohood, perhaps there's a level of code-switching involved where you feel more comfortable presenting a side of yourself to people of your community. I notice J'onn tends to call Clark "Kal-El" most of the time. It's that alien solidarity.

When asking "which is the truer self, Clark or Kal" it's like asking which of Superman's parents are his "true" parents. His birth parents or his adopted ones? They're both important to him, so they're both true.

[minhtblue]

hai!!! can you doodle girltoya :3 however you wanna interpret that!! and/or platonic antoya :D your art is adorable btw lil gummies i love them :D

haii thank you so much :D you get both! here's my take on transfem toya!

[oodlesofowls]

[canisalbus]

at least as far as french goes, learning the genders of things is entirely memorization. and yes, learners of the language struggle with it.

in fact, if you're writing and want to convey that the person doesn't speak french too well, you have them misgender inanimate objects.

there's no rules to determine a thing's gender, not even vibes; in fact, the opposite is true: for native speakers, which gender a thing is will then color the vibes that they associate with that thing. this is why i will forever associate spiders with cunning and motherood.

and finally, i've saved the dumbest for last: in 2020, there was debate if COVID is male or female.

.

[pirateprincessjess]

I commissioned art of myself as a puppygirl! More of a puppygirl? Idk, but I love it!!

Artist E. R. Benvolio

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[fraternum-momentum]

HAHHAHA JOKES ON YOU I WON EITHER WAY./j, lh

I love toxic yuri… thanks for blessing us 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

!!!!

[emile-hides]

The year is 2024, 8 years post release, and Pokemon Go not only finally gives trainers the ability to have more than just the default hair style and one of four eye and skin colors, but decided while they were there to completely blast every other Pokemon Game in the world out of existence by removing Gender entirely and giving the player customizable body types complete with separate sliders for Weight, Muscle, Shoulders, Chest, and Waist