#why people need to have their '''''chosen gender''''' on their ID and shit

[four-for-fidelity]

HAVIN A BAD TIME OF IT

[crowtrinkets]

Your Weary Widow Marches

A Gender Neutral MCxFelix fic in which our dear barista educates their teacher and shows him some music from their home.

I’ve never really written fanfiction before but I thought Id give it a shot. The formatting looks weird on my end so if it looks weird after posting I apologize I couldn’t figure it out. Hope you enjoy!

—-

The crackling fire and pages being turned were the only sounds heard for the past few hours. Felix and I sat on either side of a couch placed in Anisa’s office silently reading our respective books. I’ve been in Astraea for nearly a week and had I known that Felix’s teaching method would be done via reading books the size of an encyclopedia I probably would have chosen Sage or Anisa instead... probably

I glance up at Felix, he’s sitting with legs crossed slouching on the arm rest of the couch, glasses on and enthralled in his book. I'm leaning with my back against the arm rest facing Felix, peering at him from behind my knees. I watch as his eyes scan the pages, partially hiding behind my book so he doesn’t notice me stare. I rub my eyes, dry from the endless reading of Astraean history. I know plenty of history and lore from this world thanks to countless hours of playing Last Legacy and stalking forums, but I don’t think I could’ve convinced Felix of that without having to explain what video games are let alone the internet. He thought if I were to learn magic I should at least know part of its history and it’s contribution to their society. 

Despite spending some time with Felix I'm still amazed at the attention span he has for reading. I scan the room trying not to move too much lest I be scolded by the warden. I glance over at the high back chair across the room. The one Anisa sat me in after my jaunt through Felix’s portal and painfully onto Anisa's desk. My mind begins to wander. 

I’ve only been here a short time but I feel like I’ve adjusted well. I wonder what's happening on Earth. Does time pass the same at home like how it does in this realm? World? Alternate universe? I still don’t exactly know how to explain my predicament. Has anyone noticed I'm gone yet? I wonder if I’m on the missing persons list, someone at work will have noticed I didn’t show up for my shifts. I cringe slightly at that last thought, my open book now resting on my chest. Ah damn it, I’m definitely fired aren’t I. How am I gonna pay my bills.... and my home, I miss my bed....my plants. SHIT MY PLANTS. I bring my hand to my face and cringe, my beloved house plants they’re going to wither away in my absence. Fate is such a cruel mistress.

“Bored of reading are we?” I slightly jump at Felix’s comment. I bring my hand down and look at him. Staring at me through his glasses a smirk on his lips. I flush slightly and close my book.

“No I just, got to thinking about Earth, and my life, I guess I’m just a little home sick,” I mumble out those last words. I want to be honest with Felix but I don’t want him beating himself up for my situation. I mean yes he is the reason I’m stuck here but I don't hate him for it. Felix frowns and closes his own book.

“Ah... I am sorry about that, I-“ I sit up interrupting him.

“No no no, I'm not mad at you, I’m actually quite enjoying my time here. I mean I don’t have to make drinks for annoying customers everyday here,” I force a laugh but it comes out awkwardly. Felix gives me a quizzical look. I then realize, with the amount of times he calls “dear barista” I just assumed he knew what it meant. “Yknow, my job? A barista?” Felix flushes and avoids looking at me.

“I must admit.. I do not actually know what that is,” I cant help but chuckle, the great necromancer Felix, is embarrassed to not know something.

“Well my dear teacher," I emphasize the word teacher mimicking the way he calls me, "allow me to educate you on some Earth information,” I sit cross legged and scoot closer to him book in my lap. Felix adjusts to face me properly and removes his glasses. I clear my throat and smile at him. “My part time occupation of being a Barista, requires me to make drinks for customers and sell them, more often I make coffee but sometimes people order tea. We sell pastries as well,” Felix gives me yet another confused look.

“All you do is prepare drinks and flakey confectioneries?” I nod in response with a smile, I can only imagine what he assumed a Barista was. Felix chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, “All this time I thought it was something more complicated, you described your customers as being annoying? I am assuming you do not like this particular job?”

“Well, I don't hate it but the customers can get a little rude and for the dumbest reasons too. One time a woman threw her drink at me claiming I added 3 1/2 shots of espresso and rather than 3,” I laugh to my self looking back at the memory, chuckling more when I see Felix’s horrified expression.

“A woman... threw a drink at you? Because she deemed it made incorrectly? I did not except Earth customs to be so. . . Barbaric,” Felix looks at me astonished and confused but all I can do is laugh. “And why are you laughing? Are you alright did she hit your head when she assaulted you with a beverage?” Felix is now standing while I clutch my stomach in pain, the combination of the story and Felix’s confusion is too much to bare. After a minute I manage to calm down enough to speak.

“No no, she did not hit me in the head, I’m just laughing cause it was funny, well at the time it wasn’t but my co workers took pictures and I looked ridiculous. I can laugh about it now,” I wipe a stray tear from my eye as I recount the experience. Thank god her drink was iced. 

“Picture?” Felix chimes in. I try to think of how to explain how photography works but I come up with an idea.

“Why don’t I show you?” I stand handing Felix my book and I jaunt over to Anisa’s desk. I let her peruse my backpack because she seemed so interested in my “Earthly items” as she called them. I walked back over and sit on the floor, patting the ground next to me so Felix can join. 

“You known there is a perfectly good sofa right next to you, I don’t understand why you wish to sit on the ground like we are mere children,” but despite his protests Felix sits next to me still clutching our books. I rummage through my back tossing the other items to the side. My wallet, a flyer, a jacket, that granola bar which has definitely crumbled to pieces in its package. Until I finally find it, my phone. My first night here I instinctively tried to use it, forgetting I am now stuck in a world without wifi or cell towers. In an effort to hopefully conserve its battery I hard shut off my phone I did not think I would need it but now is an opportunity for me to educate Felix about my world rather than his and tell him a little about myself. Really I just want a reason to prolong my time from reading anymore history. I hold the power button and silently pray. Please have some battery left, please please. Felix is leaning towards me, his face inching closer to mine, I glance at him studying his expression. He looks confused, and curious at the same time, there's a slight scrunch in his brow like he’s trying to seem like he understands what I’m doing, but I know he doesn’t. In that moment his eyes meet mine, I turn my head to fully face him, a blush creeps up his face and I can feel mine begin to warm as well. “Felix-“

BING

We both jump at the sound of my phone turning on. Damn phone, well I guess I kinda asked for that. Felix sits back and clears his throat.

“Um, what, what is that?” His voice wavers slightly but I choose to ignore it to save him some dignity.

“Its my phone, on Earth nearly everyone has one of these. You can use it to communicate with other people, take pictures, look things up, and listen to music.” I begin to unlock it and open my photo album.

“You can communicate with other people? On this... this flat brick?” Felix points accusatory at my phone the scrunch in his eyebrows have intensified creating deep crevices on his forehead. I nod while I scroll through trying to find the photo. 

“Yup and take pictures, such as this one,” I turn my phone to face Felix revealing the image documenting the after affects of being assaulted with coffee. He leans over to get a better look. In the picture I'm standing by the cash register, soaked through my clothes in an extra large coffee's amount of liquid. The brown liquid stains my apron and the parts on my white shirt poking out from underneath. There's smeared whipped cream going across my shoulder up my neck and partially along my jaw, and the scowl on my face could kill a man. The instant I show the picture to Felix he plants a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He turns away in an attempt to hide his amusement but I know he wont last.

“Im-I must apologize I did not mean to laugh but, but the look on your face is hilarious,” Felix faces me again trying to hide his smile with the back of his hand. I start to chuckle, I turn the phone back to me and swipe to the next picture. Its a similar picture but in this one my co worker put whipped cream on top of my head, something about it “completing the look”. When I show this picture to Felix it breaks his terrible attempt of remaining poise. He laughs loudly, and it’s extremely contagious. I laugh along with him reminiscing in his beautiful laugh. Every once in a while we calm down until we look at the picture and we start up again. After a bit I’m able to calm down enough to speak.

“Don’t feel bad for laughing, at the time I was pissed but my co workers cheered me up and now I have these memories to laugh at,” I start to look through my album again as Felix calms down from his laughing high. I find more pictures to show him. Some are of me at work with my co workers, one picture of me laughing as I held a dog that jumped through the drive through window. I show him more pictures, some are of earth sunsets which Felix claimed to look like they belong in a painting. I also show him a picture of some Geese I saw while on a walk, and then a picture of said Geese chasing me. This gets Felix to laugh again but not as hard.

“You lead an interesting life on Earth, it seems similar to Sage you are also prone to provoke others into attacking you,” I roll my eyes at Felix’s joke and give him a friendly shoulder bump. Its at this moment I realize how close he’s sitting. Our books set aside and Felix is leaning on one arm politely looking over my shoulder at my phone, I can tell he doesn’t really understand how it works but it seems he’s enjoying this moment to much to ask. In an attempt to keep the sweet moment I change the subject.

“Hey do you want to listen to some Earth music?” With a nod from Felix I close the app and instinctively go to press my streaming app. Damn no Internet. I think for a second and remember I have some music I bought in times before streaming apps existed. I find the app and open it. Dear god my taste was cringey. I scroll through the songs until I stumble across a less than embarrassing song. “This is a classic where I come from, everyone has heard this song at least once. I lay back onto the floor so I can properly listen to the music. Felix looks at me and awkwardly lays down as well, I click on the song allowing it to play.

Just a small town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train goin' anywhere

Felix gives me a puzzled look but I just shrug and look up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and take in the song as it plays. If I concentrate hard enough I can imagine my self back on Earth. Sitting in my room listening to 80s music while I do laundry or cook my dinner. I start to feel nostalgic again but I try not let my emotions take over. The song ends and I pause it before it plays the next song. I roll onto my side and rest my head on my hand.

“So what’d you think?” I beam at Felix, I genuinely want to know what he thinks of Earth music, and more specifically a song that I am quite fond of. Felix is laying flat on his back, he ankles crossed and his hands laying on his chest. He looks nervous to be laying on the ground next to me but has made no attempts to leave.

“I thought it was... interesting to say the least. It had quite a captivating story although I was confused when the subject changed multiple times, and what exactly are they trying to “not stop believing” in” Felix does air quotes and seems genuinely enthralled in the “story” of the song. I smile and start to look for another song. 

“How about you choose the next one?” I tilt my phone towards him. Felix sits up at my question.

“I dont feel very well versed in Earth music though,” He mumbles. I shrug at his comment.

“Just pick one with a name that sounds interesting to you” I show Felix how to use the phone and hand it to him laying back down. I peek at Felix, he’s holding the phone in one hand and is scrolling with the other, he’s holding it like an old man. I watch his face, he’s thoroughly looking at every single song title and determining whether they are interesting or not. I find it... cute, his concentration face is cute. Oh if he caught me staring I know he would become a blubbering blushing mess, I mean I would be too. I close my eyes again as I wait for him to pick. 

“This one seems interesting,” I hum in response, but when Felix says the title out-loud and panic seizes through me. I sit up and shout WAIT but I'm too late. He already pressed it. And then I hear it.

That dreaded, infamous G note. Felix turns towards me surprised and hastily hands the phone to me, I pause it before another note can play.

“Hells MC what will that song make my head explode or something??? You nearly made my heart stop.” Felix takes a deep breath with his hand on his chest.

“I'm sorry, that song its kind of embarrassing actually,” I can feel myself flushing, I look away in embarrassment at the fact that I had that song downloaded and the fact that I nearly sent my teacher into cardiac arrest.

“Embarrassing how?” Felix looks at me puzzled. I open my mouth to speak but then stop. Hold on a second, Felix doesn’t know this band, let alone what an emo phase is. Well judging by his raven skull necklace he does but not in the way I do. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if we listened to it. I do still like their music. But god did it HAVE to be this song. I clear my throat and look back at Felix.

“Nothing, it’s nothing I was just being dramatic,” I stifle a laugh. “We can listen to it, I actually quite like this band,” Felix nods and turns to face my direction, were now both sitting cross legged and I press play on the song. I smile a little as the song plays and close my eyes again. I cant even remember the last time I listened to this song. My mind begins to wander again, to my younger years when I first heard this song.

 I was such a try hard back then, wanting so badly to “be different” but also to mend the emotional pain I was going through, and this band really helped me through it. This song is a little more narrative than the last one so I hope Felix would like it. I can’t believe I freaked out like I did god he must think I'm crazy, or maybe that lady really did hit my head when she threw that drink at me. As the song plays I silently hum to it, quiet enough so that Felix might not hear. I drink in the lyrics and instruments and it feels like I'm listening to it again for the first time. 

The song ends and I open my eyes again to pause the music before it plays another one.

“So what did you think of tha-“ before I can continue I'm stopped by the sight of Felix’s face. His eyes are misty and his nose is colored pink. Was he... was he crying? Felix looks at me and his eyes go wide. He quickly turns away and rubs at his face.

“There-there is quite a lot of dust on this floor, honestly you would think Annie would have any sense to clean in here every once in a while,” I cant help but smile, wow he really is a goth child. 

“It’s ok Felix, this song makes me cry sometimes too,” Felix side eyes me and sniffles.

“I-I was not crying, yes I admit the song was... moving to say the least…. But, but I will not be mocked by you for my emotions,” Felix turns to face me again refusing to meet my eyes, his voice turning accusatory. I scoot closer to Felix and place a hand on his shoulder. He looks at me astonished and slightly flushed, either from the contact or the crying, I mean dust, I will never know.

“Congratulations” I say with a smile. Felix’s puzzled look twists even more.

“What ever are you talking about,” Felix questions.

“You’re emo now,”

[werevulvi]

I hope these show up in the right order. This kinda stuff is exactly what makes me feel lost about my transness. Like I was just trying to be nice and agreed with this person's post. I had no interest in being an asshole or arguing what bio sex, or even what butch, is. I was just declaring myself as a bio female because it felt relevant to the topic and how I relate to it. It amazes me how even the pro self-ID types are against self-ID when someone identifies in a way that doesn't suit their narrative, even when it's a trans person whose identity they deny.

They blocked me and I don't want anyone going after them, I just wanna rant. And not even about this specific post or person, but more so about trying to exist as a gender critical trans person in general. I've been thinking about that for days, weeks, perhaps months or even years already, so it's really not about this specific person. I guess it was just what triggered me to finally start writing.

I guess I feel like both most other trans people and most other gender critical people, view transness as incompatible with gender critical opinions, and like that makes me feel pulled in two opposing directions. But anyone of any ideology can be dysphoric and transition because it helps them cope. I don't think that my opinions, or my choice to hang out with radfems, means that I'm self-hating, or even that I'm going against the needs of my own trans demographic. My own trans demographic is just all too good at confusing wants with needs... generally speaking. I see sex and gender the way I do because it makes sense to me personally, and I don't even argue that it's necessarily the objective truth. I don't think there is such a thing. It's just my truth, my perception of the world.

That I can't make myself see myself as a man for real, despite my dysphoria and transition, doesn't mean that I think it's wrong to transition, or that my body is damaged by it, or that transitioning is useless. Because it's not. I love my transition and everything it has given me. I'm comfortable with my transitioned body. It deserves love, especially my love. And although I still struggle with some insecurities, I feel like I love my body. It's been... incredibly good to me. It's stayed very healthy, and even keeping up a strong immune system despite my smoking, self harm, careless sexual escapades, etc. I may still have a fraught relationship with being female, but as long as I transition, I seem to be managing it fairly well. Except then I have a more fraught relationship with society instead. Can't win, but that's life, innit?

I don't think either my transness or my political opinions are my real problem or ever was. I think it's society's constant fighting about trans people's genders, lives and choices, that makes me constantly cave in on myself. Can't handle the pressure.

It feels like it's only ever getting worse. Ten years ago my biggest concern was people not ever finding me attractive because I was turning myself into some kind of a freak, which luckily I was proven to be wrong about. Five years ago my biggest concern was nonbinary people trying to normalize asking people their pronouns, which made me fear that people would never leave me alone about my gender, unless I forced myself to be hyper-masculine, which I still worry about. Three years ago my biggest concern was having been stripped of my sex-based rights and dehumanized for how I had chosen to treat my dysphoria, which I still worry about as well, and now...

...my biggest concerns are being treated as a third gender, fetishistic predator who should be shoved away into gender neutral spaces, and I fear that one day medical transition will be taken away as an option to treat dysphoria if transness is continued to be rejected as a medical condition. My heart rate is ever increasing. Can I even realistically "just go on with my life" anymore? I feel compelled to do something, but I also feel like there isn't anything I can do. No matter how many people I try to "educate" about dysphoria and why transition is incredibly important, all the while being as humble as I can, I am seriously lacking behind the much faster spread of harmful misinformation.

Thing is, I do not blame gender critical people for spreading some of that misinformation. For example of trans women as fetishistic predators, which people apply to trans men when they still fail to understand that MtF is not the only kinda trans there is, or when we dare to be just a little bit feminine while passing as male. If anything, I blame the true sources of such harmful claims, which slowly increase my anxious heart rate, over years, turning into decades, of living as openly trans. I blame opportunistic men who pretend to be trans women for gaining access to women's spaces, be it prisons, spas, shelters, sports, what have you, when they cannot possibly be dysphoric judging by how happily they swing their dicks around women as if it's no big deal and make no attempt at transitioning, but also who cares if they are dysphoric, no one should behave that way either way. I blame the trans rights activists who say lesbians have to suck dick if it's attached to a trans woman, and those who say that gay men have to be into pussy and date trans men. I blame those who say that trans women are bio female by virtue of identifying as female, and claiming that they can get periods, by virtue of... bowel cramps?! I'd also blame those who try to change female specific language on behalf of shielding trans men from our own dysphoria, in the rare cases we'd end up getting pregnant or manage to drag our asses to the gyno office for a pap smear, which... most of us really don't, regardless of if you call us women or uterus-havers, sincerely, please stop. It makes people think trans women are trying to take over the term "woman" entirely for themselves, which of course they don't.

I could go on, but I won't, as this post is not about these things. It's more so about how estranged I feel from the people who spout these things, knowing that they think they're speaking for me and my supposed needs as a tranny. But I see no point in trying to educate them, as they won't listen any more to me than they would to a radfem, and again, I think this post in my screenshots shows just how unwilling they are to listen to me.

I guess living with my transition on constant display is what's hard, and I guess I just need to vent about that, as it's always judged one way or the other; as either me having made myself into a man, or that I'm a delusional woman who mutilated herself; and it's kinda hard to find a kind and sane middle ground, that perhaps I'm just a victim of circumstances, and trying to make the most of my own life, regardless of what the fuck I am. That social shit, on top of dealing with dysphoria, makes it really difficult to not hate myself, I guess. But I have tried to live stealth and that made it if possible even worse, as it felt like I was lying, keeping a huge secret that grew in me like a spreading virus.

What I want is to just live my life, and for neither my bio sex, nor my transition, to stop me from doing that. I want to work through the worst of my autism, enough to be able to pursue a career in some low-paying labor, blue-collar job; get a car and driver's licence, find a suitable husband to have a child and cats with; I want my own garden, an art studio; I want to build muscle to become strong and even more independent (and perhaps strong enough to carry that husband, but at least to carry myself), and so on. When I picture myself in that potential future, it is with this male-like appearance I transitioned my body into, but it is also as a mother and wife.

And thinking about all of that makes me happy, it makes me smile and feel joy, meaningfulness, hope... While thinking about arguing online with some miserable fuck, who's deadset on arguing semantics and calling me a terf, when all I wanted was to show a little bit of kindness, that "hey, I agree with you, you make a good point here, and I'm not here to fight" only to be spat right back into my face... just makes me feel sad. Whatever happened to diversity of opinion? It's gone, it became labeled as bad, and left people like me with no place to be.

There is no point in arguing with such people, or even trying not to argue. There's no winning in that, there's no reward, no accomplishment. It's better to walk away.

I know I just have to get over this, this inner conflict of going against my transness with my gender critical opinions, and that I'm going against my womanhood with my transition - and be stronger than the political climate that's pulling me into pieces. But if it's peace that I want... I can just forget about it. There's no road there. But I have trouble letting go of that simple dream. The internet is constantly manipulating me into thinking I have an exciting social life, when in fact it's non-existent, and the lie is destructive. With internet vs real life, I'm living a double life. One of those lives has a future, the other one does not.

I'm glad I made this rant. It actually made me feel better, and reminded me that it's still worth it. Being trans, moving forward, focusing on what is good and what can become good in life. And it reminded me that the internet is merely an imitation of life, a substitute for human connection, and can... as with much else, be both good and bad.

[direquail]

An NB reading of Grace in Terminator: Dark Fate

Disclaimer:

Before I start, just want to get this out here: I’m in no way insisting that Grace *has* to be non-binary, that we’re *supposed* to read her as non-binary, or that that’s in any way what she’s “meant to be”. This is just some stuff I’ve noticed that, as someone who sits on the genderqueer/non-binary/transmasc side of things, really resonated with me. Again--read her as entirely woman-identified if that’s what you want to do or feels right to you. I am ecstatic that lesbians and wlw-identified folks have someone that they feel represented in, too. I wish I’d had more characters like her when I was growing up and felt so out of place because of my gender non-conformity. 


But I, for one, would love a non-binary or even trans reading of Grace.

So what I’d like to do instead is just lay out a couple ways someone who is NB-identified *might* connect with Grace as a nonbinary character. Starting with the obvious.

Androgyny Now, I do want to be clear that I know that gender presentation =\= gender identity. And again, obviously, people will latch onto things that they relate to in characters, and I really do believe that there’s no “one right way” to read a character. The character of Grace isn’t a real person; she’s part of a story, told by people, who had something specific to say, and her character reflects that. But from the perspective of the people who watch her, who internalize and connect with her character, there can be points of connection that have nothing to do with the author’s/creator’s intent, and so, Grace-the-character can be many things to many people. The only real way to know how a person IDs is to ask them. That’s it, that’s all. You can’t assume. But also, sometimes, people do “ping” a certain way. They give off a sort of “energy”, and for me, Grace’s energy isn’t the sort of “diaphanous femininity” that even visibly-gender-nonconforming AFAB characters are often framed to exude. Grace’s energy isn’t masculine, either. Her mannerisms don’t seem intended to read that way; rather, they seem intended to read as soldier. I’m not very skilled at breaking down movements, especially when it comes to how actors move and what it all means. It’s totally possible that a lot of what’s unique about how Grace moves is because Mackenzie Davis is, self-admittedly, not the most athletically-inclined person. Grace is long-limbed and rangy and sometimes very stiff/poised, but never stiff through the hips like a Straight Dude(TM), or heavy through the shoulders like a musclebound meathead. She takes up space, too; she’s taller than Dani and Sarah both, and the only recurring characters who are “bigger” than her throughout most of the film are Carl and the Rev-9.

To be clear: Women can be tall, and rangy, and androgynous, and take up space, and that doesn’t make them less women--unless they don’t identify that way. My point with all of the above is just observing that Grace doesn’t move like a “male action hero”—but she also doesn’t seem over-the-top feminine in the way that mainstream-y media will “compensate” for perceived unfemininity, and that’s kind of wonderful. Her stature, her physique, all of that, seem to be chosen and calibrated towards an end goal that isn’t gendered: Combat, efficacy as a warrior. Whether you want to read her as a woman or as nonbinary is largely going to be about your personal preference. This also has the effect of giving the impression that Grace is absolutely unselfconscious about her body and how it looks—and she has no reason to be, not because she looks good or bad, but because what she can do with her body is just so vastly more important, and because she’s so willing to put her body and everything it can do on the line in order to fulfill her mission (and protect Dani). If Grace has a gender, it’d be “Protector” or “Warrior”. And in a way, what makes Grace so appealing to female-identified lesbians is the same thing that makes her appealing to NB people—Her character was explicitly designed not to cater to “the male gaze”, and therefore, she also exists outside the typical gendered confines reserved for “female characters” in media. The emphasis is just slightly different: Instead of a different way of being female, NB!Grace has little to no use for those categories at all. Again, it’s all in how you want to read her. Grace comes from a future where survival and fighting take first priority, and you could project the same tired “Gender isn’t a ~problem~ in the future/after the world ends” approach that a lot of cis and hetero men take to sci-fi--but also, why? It’s tired. Give me a Grace who is preoccupied with survival, yes, who maybe doesn’t have time to think too much about this gender shit--but also, a Grace who finds that this “androgyny” (although she might not call it that) suits her, who takes to this way of moving and being in the world, this way of using her body, and identifies more with that than with being a “man” or a “woman”. 


(Sidenote: as someone who took a fair amount of Queer Studies classes, it does irk me a bit that discussions of mainstream-y speculative media seem permanently suspended between this sort of “genderblind” futurism where “identities” just don’t exist because they’re apparently not needed anymore, or copy-pasting our contemporary discourses about identity into a future that is materially very different than ours. The point of these identities is, in part, to describe our experiences, the good as well as the bad, and those experiences of gender and sexuality don’t exist in a vacuum. So, the words we use will necessarily change to accommodate that—especially in the post-apocalypse. BUT, everything that comes after us will also bear the stamp of what came before it; it’s just a matter of what the creator means to emphasize.) Augments & Body Mods This is a little dicey, because there’s some clear tension in the movie between the idea of robots = inhuman/unfeeling = bad, and humans = good/feeling. And in that light, it’s potentially problematic to (even incidentally) imply that nonbinary/gender-nonconforming = not human.

But I’d like to point out that the film does deliberately challenge any neat separation of “human” and “machine” with Carl’s evolution as a person. 
And based on what I’ve read from James Cameron and Tim Miller interviews, there is some “blurring” intended between human and machine in the franchise.

In fact, Carl and Grace are foils for each other, somewhat, in the sense that they’re on opposite ends of a spectrum where human and machine become blurred, and I love that. As a genderqueer person with a very fluid experience, it appeals to me on a deep level because you could spend literally forever breaking down where does one “gender” end and another begin--emotionally, socially, spiritually, and physically.  


So the fact that there’s (1) no hard binary between human and machine (it’s explicitly subverted), and (2) we’re given multiple points of inflection, especially if you count Sarah and the Rev-9--alleviates a lot of the tension I’d feel otherwise in mentioning this. But I don’t think this is something that should be allegorical or a direct comparison; I think that it operates best on a metaphorical or theoretical level. 


And just, it’s the whole vaguely-cyberpunk idea of modifying your own body, not in a mass-produced or manufactured sense, but in this organic and highly individual sense, born out of contingency and necessity, that makes Grace’s Augments so meaningful. It’s one of the things that makes her read as human, too, because it feels more in line with our tendency to stick ink, steel, bone, what have you, through our skins whenever we get the chance--as opposed to some kind of symbolic dehumanization by “becoming a machine”.

Grace routinely refuses to categorize herself in anything other than the most general terms, or explain the details of her Augments, and she seems very protective of them. Rather than seeming ashamed, this refusal reads a lot like the popular queer identity explanation “not gay as in happy, but queer as in “fuck you’”. Her Augments are part of her, and part of her humanity; she volunteered for them, she owns them, and is even protective of them, viewing CBP’s invasive examination of her Augments as a kind of violation of her bodily autonomy. They’re clearly complicated for her, but they’re anything but depersonalized.

And going even further, the reason why she volunteered for them is so that she can defend humanity--and also someone she loves (Dani). They’re an extension of her sense of family, loyalty, love, and willingness to sacrifice.

And I don’t know for sure, but I imagine that Grace is basically one-of-a-kind, even among other Augments, if only because those Augmentations seem to be performed with the tech that’s on hand--salvaged Legion tech, by the sound of it, at least to start with. So the outcome depends on the parts available, the complexity and maturity of the Augmentation technology and process, and the skill & experience of the surgeons, all of which would vary over time. 


And honestly? If that doesn’t qualify as “beyond the binary”, I don’t know what does.

Some other general observations:

- Grace’s short hair is a constant throughout the post-Judgement Day scenes. As someone who started wearing their hair short as a preteen and hasn’t had hair to my shoulders since age 12, that does seem significant.

- Grace only introduces herself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9. Granted, most women don’t like to be addressed as “HEY LADY”, either, but it stood out to me, especially because she refused to give her name only a couple of minutes before that. Either way you read it, the line feels like it expresses some level of discomfort with or objection to that gendered statement. Maybe she finds that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe she doesn’t really identify as a woman. She’s just... Grace.

- there were multiple times I mistook the back of her tank top for the back of a binder, even though she clearly was not binding.

- she constantly steals mens’ clothes--partly because she’s too tall for a lot of womens’ clothes around her, partly out of utility (like at the factory and CBP, where a lot of the guards are men). But also, it pleases the genderfucking queer in me quite a bit. And, I should note, when she had the option to take a female guard’s clothes at the CBP facility... she didn’t.

But ultimately, when I look at Grace, I see someone whose gender is “Warrior” or “Soldier”. And it’s so wonderful to see that so purely represented on a character we’re meant to perceive as female. So, please believe me when I say I don’t want to “take away” what Grace means for other people. 
And, for the record, I do mostly default to using she/her pronouns for Grace, because that’s how she’s canonically referred to. But just for fun--try this on for size: Using “they/them” pronouns for Grace. They (Grace) came back in time to protect Dani. It rolls off the tongue, right? It feels nice. Let’s re-try a couple of sentences from above: 


- “multiple times I mistook the back of their tank top for the back of a binder, even though they clearly weren’t binding” 


- “Grace’s Augments are about their ability to be a soldier. They were Augmented in order to hunt Terminators... Everything else is secondary to that, and their mission to protect Dani”

- “Grace only introduces themself by name after Diego shouts “HEY LADY” in the factory before dropping an engine block on the Rev-9 ... Maybe they find that particular reference annoying or even offensive, but also, maybe they don’t really identify as a woman. They’re just... Grace.”

And finally: 


Can you imagine the poor sod who tried to make fun of Grace for having a “girly” name? lmao rip

[angelsaxis]

I just really can't wrap my head around why lesbianism is the one people are forcibly trying to """expand""" as if it's not already expansive as FUCK and inclusive of SO many genders that just aren't men! Of any kind! Why do all these triple-slur ID raging Internet queers get their entire understanding of the lesbian ID from how a cishet person in LGBT+ 101 would define lesbianism? 😭 That's why y'all look stupid as fuck here with your "well if you're attracted to girls and nonmen then that's bisexuality so bi lesbian" and which is why non lesbians need to keep dyke shit out of their FUCKING mouths and why y'all need to stay in your lanes because lesbians have BEEN saying many of us are not women and are attracted to people who aren't women, the real and important detail about lesbianism is that it's just NO MEN. Who are you to determine that our community and our history and our people aren't inclusive enough? Who are you to do the work of homophobes for them and then dust off your hands like you're not making the world worse for lesbians? Why the fuck do you care? Can't yall just make up your own word?

And why this claim that every sexuality is expansive and only YOU can determine what your sexuality is when it's clear y'all don't even believe that shit yourselves? You don't take self hating gays seriously you don't take transphobic queers seriously you don't take confused ass straight people seriously but ohhhhh no every sexuality is infinitely expansive but!! But!! We just HAVE to pin this on the lesbians. The lesbians NEED to be more open. Make your own community. Stop redefining everything

Truly it feels like it's just us out here sometimes because you try and explain this to other people and you get this odd silence that implies the other person thinks you're crazy for stating the fucking obvious. You losers need to get on why you're so against, again, a group of people who just fundamentally do not like men. Who have no social political romantic or sexual space for men. They've chosen to call themselves this one particular thing and have congregated based on that shared experience. And here you are offended that they're not trying to fuck men of any kind, whether cisgender or transgender. No men means no men.

Being a lesbian shouldn't be this difficult like why can people just accept the fact that there are people who do not have room for men at all and we have chosen to call ourselves a specific thing to ID ourselves, communicate as much, and find one another. Why just "sexuality is expansive" be applied to things that have strict and common definitions. Make up your own word then! Come up with your own shit! Yall never do this to gay men!

[ajora]

A work thing: one of my sites is notoriously bad at exploiting me and sending me things at the last minute. At one point earlier this year, they sent me a batch of projects in the last hour before the deadline. I created a bunch of shell project plans because fuck you if you think I’m going to expend energy on literal last minute budget planning, and let the clock run out. This guy just came back to me complaining that the budget is too low for one of those shell projects. Of course it is, you idiot, you didn’t give me time to do shit properly so I booted it to next year’s planning. But I can’t smack him over e-mail, so I’m venting here. 

I really did want to get Dragondance off the ground properly for my birthday, but it’s been absurdly busy at work for the past few months and especially the past couple of weeks. I’ve been doing overtime. I’m kinda disappointed in myself for not meeting my own deadline for my fics, but also? I’m exhausted. And let’s be real, it’s a small fandom and no one is actually going to read that shit. 

Which means I can totally get away with playing with my personal fanons and dark themes and rubbing my id everywhere. Faris gets all my gender issues dumped on her and, tbh, she’d probably have very similar issues for the similar reasons of trying to live up to other people’s expectations of male and female roles. She just gets to be way more charismatic and attractive than I am because that’s canon and it’s delightful and please live out all my dreams of being an able-bodied suave swashbuckler with sword skills and maxed bard job class and a dragon friend.

Also? Alexander’s reaction to the previous king’s warmongering being aggressive peace and diplomacy is utterly delightful and I love that for all that he appears to be action king, that was his rebellion against what was expected of him. I kinda wish I explored that more with The Island, but I really wanted something finished on my birthday and a lot of what I wanted to do had to be glossed over. And the other thing I’ve been delighted with is, the previous king is not mentioned as being related to Alexander. There’s no familial kanji linked to him the way Alexander is mentioned as Lenna’s father. The implication is clear, at least to me: Alexander married into the family. I’m like 99% convinced at this point that he’s not royalty by birth and I wish I’d gotten into that more with The Island, too. There’s some prime bonding material there for him and Faris and them straddling two worlds. 

It also does not escape me, btw, that Alexander becomes a Final Fantasy summon mainstay from FF6 on. Congrats on your Holy-element immortality, old man. 

I’ve been very disappointed by trying to find DFFOO videos for the FFV crew that aren’t just straight-up battles. Show me the forbidden Faris-overreacting-to-Lenna-being-injured-again content I crave so much. Finally got around to hearing her voice, though. Rie Tanaka manages the androgynous quality Faris’ voice needs pretty well. I just wish her singing voice wasn’t as high as it is. Also, that she can summon Syldra in battle is wonderful. I was a bit salty about her being status-inflicting support character and a water elemental somehow* (she’s the Fire Crystal’s chosen warrior, she should be a Fire elemental) when she was new, but I can accept summoning Syldra being added to her skillset.

Anyway, hi. Please forgive my utterly self-indulgent focusing on my favorite character forever. 

* I do get the choice--Waterwhirl is an obvious reference to the whirlpool she dived into at 15. Cannonfire makes sense what with the piracy, though I’m confused why it’s status-inflicting and not just straight up physical damage. But what do I know, I’m not a game developer.

** PS - can Edgar/Zidane/whatever stop hitting on Faris in every crossover game for once?

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

All the gay asks bc you made me do all of them

OWO thank you I love you1. describe your idea of a perfect dateAll of them??? Kakhiwkdkalgr walking around the beach or going to a bookstore or maybe a forest to chill or an abandoned place for a spooky date??? Movie date??? Ocean date??? Marriage date??? All good!!! Crab catching would certainly be on the agenda though. The oceans the best2. whats your “type”My type? Uhh anyone that’s nice to me lmao. Someone i can joke with and I know that cares about me. Quiet on the outside but like, nurturing and fun when you get to know em. Someone that doesn’t let people treat em like garbage because i yearn to be like that. On a side note I’m not sure why but most people i used to tend to have crushes on were ISFJs (or ESFJs) probably because they fit the criteria above. I don’t really like people that are totally my personality, and I think it’s important to not surround yourself with yes people or people that vehemently disagree with you. And communication! V important In terms of looks though? The kinds of girls I’m attracted to vary a lot actually. Buff girls soft girls tall girls short girls thin girls medium girls big tiddy little tiddy it’s all good. I guess I tend to prefer girls that aren’t white (not in a fetishistic way of course it’s just most girls that I’ve had crushes on or knew that were gay that were white just had really bad personalities and that brand of White Feminism™️ sorry if I worded this poorly) brown or black hair I guess? Just someone that doesn’t look like me adjnrujbslltgbk. Also someone I can squish and hug nicely. Of course I think there’s a lotta bullshit with people limiting themselves to only a few criteria and the racism or body type discrimination is total bullshit. Fetishisation is just as bad. There’s just so many cute girls out there why be a shitlord to people y’know? 3. do you want kids?Later on in life, if my partner would then yeah sure why not. I hate babies though so I would...4. if you do, will you adopt or use some other form of child birth?Adopt definitely. I’d personally prefer to adopt a kid that’s older, because they have a less chance of being chosen and I want them to be raised in a loving environment. 5. describe the cutest date you’ve ever been onI’ve never been on an actual date ;v; but tbh any date I’d have with my gf would automatically top the list6. describe your experience having sex for the first time (were you nervous? or was it easy peasy?)I’ve never had sex so I got no gosh dang clue aside from fantasies, which I would be nervous as heck but ultimately want to be as adoring as possible and kisses everywhere7. are you a morning time gay or night time gay?Mornings when you don’t have to go to things are amazing and beautiful but otherwise afternoon or night time gay. Anything that isn’t midday is good though8. opinion on nap dates?I’d be down for it. Sleeping is great, but cuddling and sleeping? Even better! Doesn’t matter for how long but yes! Good shit!!! 9. opinion on brown eyes?Only the most beautiful thing ever??? Brown and black eyes being ugly is a government lie, they are gorgeous. Black eyes just have that deep obsidian stare and like an adoring cat with dialated pupils you just want to hug, and brown eyes??? When the light hits them or you’re staring into them? Beautiful galaxies my dude. 10. dog gay or cat gay?I love dogs but I would never own one unless my partner wanted one. They’re just not a companion I prefer to cats. Cats are very good and fluffy and compact in comparison to dogs. Dogs are amazing though and I need to pay every one I see. 11. would you ever date someone who owned rodents or reptiles?Dude we already planned to live in a pseudo-barn to have crabs, rats, bats, cats and lizards 12. whats a turn off you look for before you start officially dating someoneSomeone who’s very ‘my way or the high way’. (My mum’s a lot like this and it’s caused me to try to constantly be appeasing. But with my mental illness I’ve gotten a lot more irritated by it.) Or someone that is a bit too mean I’m joking about people to the point where you don’t know if they’re serious. (I have this problem a lot with ‘friends’ and it leads to a lot of doubts and depression.) Also highly argumentative people who want to seem better than you and debate everything you say. (Just...ew.)13. what is a misconception you had about lgbt people before you realized you were one?I live in a homophobic family, so I used to think gay was a swear word lmao. I was told that we were unnatural, burning in hell, hypersexual, all that shit. Issues on trans people were even worse, and back when I considered the possibility of me being a trans man (while I experience dysphoria In my body I don’t think I would ID as a man- at the time I didn’t know what agender identities were) I was made to feel like it was the worst thing ever or that it didn’t exist that everyone was just straight and ‘normal’ 14. what is a piece of advice you would give to your younger selfDon’t pretend you’re aroace to hide who you are, you’re autistic but that’s okay just don’t overwhelm yourself, try to do things to the best you can. Also toxic feminity/masculinity is bullshit don’t feel guilty about wearing anything. You’re gay it’s so much easier now and don’t let people dictate of make you defend yourself 15. (if attracted to more than one gender) do you have different “types” for different genders?Lmao nah. There is always that awkward moment when you think you see a hot butch but then he’s a twink. Bamboozled again. 16. who is an ex you regret?A few years ago I was forced into a relationship with some rude ass dude who ignored that I ID’d as aroace at the time. I guess at the time I had some comp het so I think that’s why I went along with it? It was kinda some toxic shit like nothing nsfw but he was just a huge dick that went off at the slightest disagreement and I’m glad I got rid of that trash lmao17. night club gay or cafe gay?Cafe gay by far!!! Well I’ve never been to a night club, but I’m someone who gets overwhelmed by loud noises and people, so it wouldn’t be the place for me. Cafes are relaxing18. who is one person you would “go straight” forNo one lmao, The only possibility of slightly me becoming straight is like a fictional character19. video game gay, book gay, or movie gay?Books and video game gay! There needs to be more gaymes, but books are good I just have less time to read them as opposed to gaymes which I can do whenever 20. favourite gay ship (canon or not)Probably RenMerry from Touhou! These two mean a lot to me, and got me into the series that helped me realise I was a lesbian! These two just work so well together that I strive to have a relationship like that- a slightly bickery old couple with the freshness of new adventure tied together with a love that will never fade away even as it transcends borders~21. favourite gay youtuberDon’t really have one. I’m not really into the British youtuber scene and the ones that I do sub don’t really talk about their sexuality or not (I think sailor j might be bi? But that’s about it) I usually watch comedy channels or vocaloid covers. Actually Oktavia’s Gay, yeah let’s go with her. Her voice is amazing and made me realise how much I love deep voices22. have you ever unknowingly asked out a straight person?Ahbkowejkboesh I’ve had crushes on straight people that I’ve wanted to hang out with but no of course not I’m too shy for that shit23. have you ever been in love?Yes! And I’m still doing so right now! 24. have you ever been heartbroken?While in a relationship? No. But like the whole ‘falling in love with a straight girl senpai and then everyone tells her that you have a crush on her which causes you to be distant to each other leading you to cry copiously at her graduation and never truly repairing your friendship which is all you ever wanted and never being able to talk to her again?’ ...y yeah 25. how do you determine if you want to be them or be with someoneHonestly I try to make a distinction between ‘people I have crushes on’ and ‘people I would date’ bc yeah someone might be cute but dating is another story. I’m someone who varies a lot in style (as someone who may possibly be gender fluid or agender but hasnthad the opportunity to explore that for family reasons) 26. favourite lgbt musician/bandUhhh Queen I guess? Idk I need more gay shit recommend me please. Queen is quality shit though 27. what is a piece of advice you have for young / baby gaysDon’t ever feel the need to apologise or defend you being gay. Be happy even if other people aren’t about you. If you’re autistic chances are you’ll question your identity, don’t worry about it and just love who you love. If you’re a lesbian especially don’t apologise or feel you have to be in a certain role to ‘be truly gay’ and also please ask people out otherwise you’ll never get anywhere- all lesbians are useless and I got lucky shjgowkgowlgr. But above all, don’t feel guilty and have fun exploring yourself and fleshing our who you are, even if you can’t always show that out loud. 28. are you out? if so how did you come outI’m not out to any family member (I say that I’m aroace but they believe I’m straight despite jokes on the contrary) but pretty much everyone that isn’t a complete stranger knows. I can’t help but talk adoringly over my girlfriend so it just happens. Otherwise I go on some spheal about homophobic bullshit dropping hints that I’m gay before saying I’m gay. It’s led to some shittalking and other various bullshit but I don’t give a fuck anymore 29. what is the most uncomfortable / strange coming out experience you have Believing I was aroace and my friends saying that i was in denial of being gay. I was like ‘lmao Domi’s just a friend I lowkey have a crush on her but she’s just being nice :^)’ then like a week later burst through the door like BITCH GUESS WHOS GAY FOR HER GIRLFRIEND 30. what is a piece of advice for people who may not be in a safe place to express their sexualityEvaluate the consequences of coming out. While I live in a homophobic family, Australia is somewhat accepting and there’s no conversion therapy to my knowledge at least (there are highly fundamentalist Christian groups but I’m not sure if they include forms of violence) Especially if you are in an anti-gay country or an area where you could be persecuted, I think it’s important to be out to at least one person you know who supports you. It could be online or a friend that you know you could trust (if you don’t know if you could try subtly bring it up and see their reaction, but better safe than sorry.) because it’s hard to go through this entirely alone. While it’s important to be unapologetic of who you are, it’s more important to protect yourself- this doesn’t make you wrong, but the people who make you feel wrong wrong.

[axelsagewrites]

"How Do You Love Someone" Magnus Bane

Ashley Tisdale Lyrics

Warnings----Swearing, implied sex, implied abuse/rough family life

Hi! My names (y/n) and I’m 97….. yeh I’m a vamp sooo yeah. I was turned at 17 in the late 1930s. My parents knew because my mum was a mundane with the sight and my dads brother was a werewolf.

Momma never told me how to love

They hated each other. They both blamed themselves at first when I was turned.

Daddy never told me how to feel

Even before that they weren't close. There marriage was a mistake.

Momma never told me how to touch

They never hugged, kissed or would even sleep in the same bed.

Daddy never showed me how to heal

After I was turned dad stopped talking to me as much because what his brother told him about vampires.

Momma never set a good example

Dad was away more and more on business trips or at political meetings so Mom  went out a swell. She started sleeping around and got the name town slut. Also because I didn't go out during the day (because duh) they thought I was dead. They said my mom killed me when she was drunk or that id moved away pregnant. That hurt because now it was physically impossible.

Daddy never held momma's hand

When dad got back he never talked to mom.  It was like they were strangers who shared a kid.

Momma found everything hard to handle

Mom would scream at him for anything cause she was always drunk. She would yell at me for everything. If I folded a shirt wrong or she had a crease on her dress she would break down crying.

Daddy never stood up like a man

Dad was enlisted in ww2. He didn't want to but had no choice. When he left he didn't even say goodbye. My mom had to work in the factories and I was alone all day in the house and had to go out to feed at night.  My father tried to desert the army and was killed. When my mom got the letter she was happy to be free of him and moved. She left me behind though.

I've walked alone, broken I didn't know what to do. It was getting harder for me to hide the fact that I was feeding of villagers. I found another vampire named Camille in the 1950s and she offered me passage to her clan in new york. Emotionally frozen I went with her and didn't talk to any of the other vampires. One night in the 60s a fledgling I had barely spoken to invited me out to the pandemonium. Getting it on I decided to go to try find some form of love or even just friendship. I went every night with these fledglings and later on with other vamps. Every night I would hook up with someone new. I just wanted to feel loved or wanted. Getting it wrong It didn't work. If anything it made me lonelier. Even though I would ‘talk’ to people of every gender and species (apart from werewolves) but I was to scared to get close to them.

How do you love someone Without getting hurt I didn't have any close friends because every other friendship had went badly. How do you love someone Without crawling in the dirt My first and only (boy/girl)friend had cheated on me and had left me in the middle of nowhere 10 minutes before the sun was to rise. So far in my life Clouds have blocked the sun How do you love, how do you love someone How do you love, how do you love someone

I was always the chosen child The biggest scandal I became I was kind of notorise in New York and Brooklyn clubs because of how often I was there. I was invited to one of Magnus Bane’s parties and thought I might as well go. They told me I'd never survive But survival's my middle name “Oh (y/n) is that you?” I turned around to see the fae that had cheated on me and to fry. “Oh hey, (Lillian/Lawrence)(fem/male)” I grimaced walking away. “I assumed you were dead” they shouted over the crowd gathering attention. I turned around and glared at them walking back, mad. “Wouldn't blame you. I mean you did leave me in the middle of a fucking field 10 minutes before the sun rose. Im bloody lucky I didn't fry!” They laughed looking down then they looked at me dead in the eyes “You didn't die then but anyone who has met you thinks that you wont survival much longer. Your not capable enough.” “Fuck you” “Don’t forget I cant lie” they smirked. By this point we had gathered a small crowd. The fae and werewolves were all behind him backing him up and anyone else was just watching. “Maybe not but your manipulating bitch.” I spat at them. My whole body felt hot even though it was impossible and I was clenching my jaw and fists. “You act tough but I doubt that you've ever been in a fight” he walked closer and his entourage was egging him on. I walked in closer as well, only about a feet apart. We now had the attention of most of the party and Magnus was just starting to notice. “Want to try huh” I shoved him and people behind him moved back “Fucking try it. Im done with your shit so either hit me or a drain you dry” I yelled the first part but the last threat came out as a deadly whisper. He just smirked looked past my shoulder and said barely audible “Try it” As I bared my fangs about to lunge at him a wave of magic flew me to the side and bellowed “ENOUGH”. I was lying against the wall and quickly sat up. “What is going on here?” the glittery man demanded “Well?” “The vamp threatened me and went to attack me”  (Lillian/Lawrence)(fem/male) Spoke calmly. Magnus looked at me then at them when he added “I cant lie” The warlock looked at me “Out. Oh and next time don't drink as much”

I've walked alone, hoping Just barely coping Getting it on Getting it wrong I looked at him in slight confusion, I hadn't drunk anything since my mothers abuse. Not a drop. “You heard me, out and sober up before you think of coming to another one of my parties.” I just looked down in disbelief and lightly laughed. I got up and started walking to the door, the fae and werewolves looked at me in disgust. Other vamps in shame and warlocks in sheer unamusement. They thought it was me. Right as I grabbed the door handle to open the door I turned round and looked at the man and said “Its a good thing you cant have kids.” How could someone be a father without listening to both sides of a story? I slammed the door and left.

How do you love someone Without getting hurt How do you love someone Without crawling in the dirt So far in my life Clouds have blocked the sun How do you love, how do you love someone How do you love, how do you love someone I got back to the hotel dummort went to my room. Later on after the sun had risen and vamps were trapped inside Raphael burst into my room. He was the only person I had considered a friend in the last 50 years and what he said broke me. “you need to leave” I looked up at him from were I lay reading on my bed and said “what? Why?” Quietly laughing thinking it was a joke. “You cant stay here after what you did at Magnus’s” “That fae started it!” I stood up defensisvley. No one would even ask what I had to say about it. “Its what you said that's the issue,” I looked down remembering what I had said “after the sun sets you have to leave.” I packed up as much as I could into a backpack. I had nowhere to go and a crushing time limit. When night fell I walked to the exit to see Raphael standing there with his arms crossed. Other vampires were there, some out of anger because of way I did/say and some just to watch as I was tossed out. I just looked at him and silently nodded walking out. Why would I even try to stay if he hated me? For the next few nights I slept around just so I would have somewhere to stay when the sun was out. I went to the pandemonium 1 week after being evicted from the hotel. I had my backpack on and was walking around trying to find someone horny enough to let me stay over when I saw Magnus sitting on a couch with 5 empty cocktail glasses. I froze when I saw him. I knew if I wanted to be able to move on id have to talk to him. As if sensing someone was watching him he looked at me and stood up, walking over. “You” he said as if I had just murdered his whole family. “You” I responded with an icy glare. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to a room in the back. “What type of stunt was that back at my party?” he asked “what did you mean its good I cant have children?” “I mean you have to listen to both sides with kids,” I responded looking awing from him “its the same with adults. You need both sides of the story.” “You started the fight why would I need to ask you what happened?” “Because he egged me on,” I snapped, voice raised. He flinched a little. “He left me to die and was tormenting me. Then you had the audacity to say that I was drunk. I haven't drunk in 80 damn years. Not after what it did to my family” I yelled. My chest was heavy and then my eyes widened.

It's hard to talk “What did it do to your family?” he asked softly but still in his normal volume. To see what's deep inside My eyes started watering as I remembered what it did to my mom. It's hard to tell the truth “Nothing” I whispered When you've always lied “it dosnt seem like nothing” I burst out crying at they words. I leaned against the wall and slid down it. After about 5 minutes he spoke “You should probably go. The sun will be up soon so I'll make you a portal.” “I have nowhere to go.” “You can stay with me” he softly said down to me slightly smiling. How do you love someone Without getting hurt How do you love someone Without crawling in the dirt So far in my life Clouds have blocked the sun How do you love, how do you love someone I stayed at his that day and just lay there doing nothing. As soon as the sun left I went to walk out. “Where are you going?” he asked. I just looked down. “alright” he huffed slightly “but come back before the suns out” I left in silence. I couldn't stay, I didn't know what he was planing but I didn't trust it. No one was just nice to me.

How do you love someone And make it last How do you love someone (love someone) I did the same the I had always done and crashed at a ransoms house. I was all alone in the house when a portal appeared and Magnus came through, “Where the hell have you been? I thought you whether coming back.” “There was no point, you didn't want me there” I lied “How could you know that? I was just trying to be nice to you. Maybe even become friends.” he asked angrily. Without tripping on the past So far in my life “We cant be friends.” More lies, truth is I didn't know how to love or be friends with some one. I was too scared to try. “Why not?” Clouds have blocked the sun How do you love, how do you love someone How do you love, how do you love someone, someone

“I don't know how to alright,” silent tears came out as I yelled. He looked at me in shock “I don't know how to be friends with some one. Im always scared their going to die or leave or hurt me like (Lillian/Lawrence)(fem/male). My mom was a drunk and my dad hated me. I don't know how to love some one and I cant feel a damn thing! Why do you think I sleep with so many strangers? Its the only love I know.” I yelled with all my pent up aggression. “Let me teach you,” he whispered, grabbing my hands “Let me show you how to feel again.”

Masterlist

[hongbab]

The Songbird - Wonshik snorts, half a smile quirking the left corner of his mouth upwards, but a beat later it dies down and he looks up with sadness in his eyes. “Please, don’t hurt Jaehwan,” he says quietly. “He’s not the one at fault.” (Leo/Ken, pg-13, 5622)

a/n: written for this prompt. this is probably not what you had in mind, anon, but i hope you’ll still like it;;

It’s 2.36am and Taekwoon is still sitting in front of his computer with his elbows on his desk, his fingers buried under his hair as he holds his forehead in his palms.

Everyone else from the department has already gone home and he should have done so as well, but instead, he keeps staring at the blaring monitor with the browser open at the intranet home page. He doesn’t know how to start this. Or, more like, he can’t start it without having to crawl out of his skin.

When Hakyeon called him into his office, Taekwoon thought he might want to praise him for single-handedly catching the head of that lowly gang of drug smugglers, maybe even tell him to take a few days off as a reward. And Hakyeon praised him, told him he was his best man, and his eyes were sparkling, a happy but nervous smile plastered on his face. However, he didn’t give Taekwoon any rewards, but—and he looked troubled when he did this—gave him a new case that most detectives had failed to solve thus far.

“You are our only hope,” Hakyeon said, sliding a file towards Taekwoon on the desk. “He’s a fucking phantom and everyone’s so lost.”

So, for the last three hours, Taekwoon has been sitting behind his computer with the file open in front of him, pictures and screenshots and handwritten notes and printed pages all scattered around, the name ‘Songbird’ repeated on every single piece of paper. This is torture and he’s already cringing so hard.

He has solved so many cases during his career: from criminal possession of weapons through mysterious deaths to some mafia-level shit, and now he’s been assigned this. He hates it more than anything before.

Maybe he’ll just start tonight, proceed until the point his colleagues have been unable to move on from, and say he can’t do it.

The Songbird’s website is entitled—surprise, surprise—‘Songbird’ and it’s pretty much just a blank index page with a high-resolution picture of some kind of bird* with the weirdest reddish-yellowish-orange feathers—the ends of which look like locks of red hair—and yellow and green head that Taekwoon has ever seen (he hasn’t seen a great many kinds of birds in his life). He clicks the image and a welcoming page pops up, asking him to either sign up or sign in.

This is it. This is where he should stop.

Taekwoon lets out a sigh and clicks the sign up button which directs him to a page that asks for his e-mail address, name, gender, the date of his birth, and the details of his credit card.  How can this person be so fucking obvious.

He digs out the expired credit card Hakyeon handed him with the documents from under the pile of papers and types up the numbers, filling in the form entirely with fake personal data. He clicks the confirmation link in the e-mail he receives in his—again—fake inbox, and on the new page that pops up the title reads, ‘Welcome to Paradise’, a text box appearing underneath and asking him to write a letter to the owner of the site about how he found them, what he wants from them, and what he wishes to do to them.

Taekwoon lets his head fall on the desk and the pain in his forehead grounds him enough not to start screaming in frustration.

 *

When the mobile phone next to his hand pings with a new text, Taekwoon almost falls off his chair in surprise.

It’s been four days since he signed up to the Songbird’s website and two days since the Songbird sent him a message in which he thanked Taekwoon for signing up and asked for his Kakao ID so they could chat there. The message was full of unnecessary emojis and tildes, and ended with an “xoxo, your Songbird”, forcing Taekwoon to stifle a hysterical laugh.

He gulps down some of his now cold latte to calm himself and takes the cheap, bad quality smartphone—a tool he was given to execute the investigation—into his hand, swiping up with a clammy finger to unlock the screen.

~Songbird~ hi Leo~~

He squints at the cheesy alias he’s chosen to use (if this person is a Songbird, Taekwoon might as well be something big and scary that would eat a fucking bird for dessert), and looks around in the office to see if someone is looking. Sanghyuk, on his right, is immersed in a video of weird game characters instead of actually working, so he takes a deep breath and replies.

Leo hi

~Songbird~ is something wrong? :^(

Leo no, why do you think something’s wrong?

~Songbird~ just the simple hi :/ i hope my message didn’t upset you, i was actually so surprised by your emotional letter~ hehe

Leo oh I was just… ugh I might have got a little carried away with that letter

~Songbird~ it’s okay it was really cute :3 i really liked the part where you wrote you’d like to take me out for a nice dinner and kiss me goodnight afterwards^^ you seem so sweet ♥

Leo thank you

~Songbird~ are you by any chance replying to me in such short sentences bc you’re shy? haha

Taekwoon puts the phone on the desk and drags his hands over his face, hating how his stomach is in knots from this whole thing. He’s never been a good communicator, neither has he been good at texting people in a smooth way, especially not if he was supposed to sound flirty. Maybe this is the point where he should hand the phone over to Sanghyuk to dig into the Songbird's ID specifications, or maybe he should just drop the phone into the toilet, possibly attempt to drown himself in the sink afterwards, but he sniffles instead and drinks the rest of his awful latte before taking the phone into his hands again.

Leo I’m not very good at texting people talking to you like this makes me a little flustered

~Songbird~ OMG so cute!! u don’t need to be flustered sweetheart you’re doing great! :) would it be better if i sent u a kiss?

Taekwoon all but chokes on his own saliva and Sanghyuk glances at him from the corner of his eye, ignoring him anew and going back to his video when Taekwoon stops coughing. His fingers are trembling on the screen when he types up his answer.

Leo I giess *guess

More than a minute passes without a new text and Taekwoon feels all the blood leaving his body to creep up into his cheeks, making him blush furiously. He shakes his legs nervously under the desk and his heart is going crazy and he’s just so fucking angry with himself for being such an anxious piece of shit—he might even be a little excited and it just makes him all the more annoyed.

~Songbird~ sent a video

The small clip shows a pair of pretty, plush and very pink lips that are pursed and they get as close to the camera as possible, a very loud smacking sound coming from the speakers of the phone. Taekwoon mutes the damn thing as fast as his jittery fingers let him, and when he looks back down at the screen, he sees the lips parting, revealing snow white teeth as the Songbird smiles sweetly.

And Taekwoon is mesmerized.

He replays the video three times, trying to imagine how the Songbird looks like, but he’s lost and all he can think of is that genuine smile and the little air kiss.

His legs stop shaking.

~Songbird~ better now?^^

Leo it was cute

~Songbird~ honestly you’re so adorable~~ I hope you’d still wanna kiss me after that dinner date

Leo yeah, I would your lips are pretty

~Songbird~ aww thanks i gtg now but i’ll get back to you soon sweet dreams honey ♥

Leo good night

Another night ends with Taekwoon headbutting his desk.

 *

“Here.”

Taekwoon turns away from the document he’s typing up and glances at the mobile device on his desk, Sanghyuk letting go of it as he plops down in his chair. There’s a devilish smirk on his face that Taekwoon knows means something awful, his eyes already narrowing before Sanghyuk would say anything more.

“Have you found him?”

“I found an IP address, but that doesn’t mean much,” Sanghyuk says, leaning back in his chair. “But first—”

“I said no questions,” Taekwoon grumbles. “You’ve read the whole thing, haven’t you?”

“Read it, watched the video and all,” Sanghyuk replies and his smirk turns into a full grin. “You have such a way with words.”

“Shut up,” Taekwoon scoffs. “I need to get him to trust me. And I told you not to read it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I read it. He must have some very low standards if he thinks you’re cute, but anyways, what we now know is that the device he uses belongs to a certain Mr Kim Wonshik.”

“Which means that his real name is Kim Wonshik, right?”

“Maybe,” Sanghyuk shrugs. “He might have stolen it or something. But if I were you—and thankfully, I’m not—” Taekwoon sends him a death glare here, “I’d start off by digging up some info about this Wonshik guy and ask him if he knows anything about your little birdie. Or, if he is your little birdie.”

“He’s not my— oh, fuck off.”

Sanghyuk sniggers and turns back to his computer.

~Songbird~ sent a photo

Taekwoon snatches the phone away from the edge of his desk before Sanghyuk could touch it first, standing up to walk away so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nerdy brat’s examining stare as he opens the photo.

His breath catches in his throat when the picture finally loads and Taekwoon's back hits the wall of the empty corridor as he sways a little. It’s an almost full-body photograph and the person in it is wearing a black, silk-like bathrobe, the thin, shiny material sticking to a frail-looking body, the light enhancing every curve and edge underneath. The hem of the robe bunches just under the boy’s hip bones, leaving a pair of smooth, pale thighs visible, a large part of the Songbird’s chest also uncovered. He’s apparently lying on a bed, and Taekwoon notices a never before seen part of his face: a prominent nose above the plump lips which he has already seen at least twenty times in the video.

The Songbird is pouting.

~Songbird~ it’s such a lazy morning what are you doing sweetie?

Leo working

~Songbird~ oh you poor thing :( and what do you do?

Taekwoon takes a deep breath and writes down what comes to his mind first.

Leo I’m a lawyer

~Songbird~ !!! sounds exciting tbh i wish you were here now

Taekwoon slides down against the wall and crouches, his knees too weak to keep him upright any longer. He swallows around a lump in his throat.

Leo why?

~Songbird~ i’m bored and lonely :(

Leo do you think I’d be entertaining enough to make you feel less bored?

After some thinking, he adds a spiritless

haha

~Songbird~ well i have a few ideas about how we could pass time~~ not sure if i should tell you abt them at this point you still seem a little nervous :D

Leo I’m a little nervous but I mean you can tell me if you want

~Songbird~ first you could play with my hair bc i really like that^^ and then maybe we could kiss some hehe and if u feel up to it we could get rid of my bathrobe andddd i’ll let u know abt the rest if we can meet up sometime ♥

Taekwoon feels his limbs going numb, but despite the feeling, he springs up from the floor and locks the phone, putting it into his pocket as he starts striding towards the bathroom. He opens the tap and tries to stand as far away from the counter as possible so his crotch won’t brush against it, making everything happening down there a lot worse, and splashes icy water into his face, tapping it into his cheeks to calm himself. When he looks up into the mirror with some water drops running down his skin, he sees dark shadows under his eyes, his skin looks almost grey and there’s a flush across his cheeks, and he has a few more crow’s feet now than the last time he looked at himself for real.

He really needs to take a few days off and preferably get laid on those days, too, because withdrawing from any kind of intimacy with others has been taking a toll on him and now he’s hard just thinking about a naked stranger whose face he hasn’t even seen yet. How sick is he…

He also needs to see the Songbird behind bars as soon as possible.

When he storms back to his desk, Sanghyuk blinks up at him curiously, leaning into his personal space to peer at his monitor screen.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m going to find Kim Wonshik.”

“And why are you so upset about this plan of yours?” Sanghyuk arches an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“Don’t talk to me now,” Taekwoon snarls.

“Rude.”

 *

Taekwoon can’t exactly say he’s prepared for meeting the Songbird just now, but he stands in front of a door with a hand raised to it and ready to knock. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do if the Songbird is the one who opens the door for him, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if it’s someone else.

So many years of being a detective and now he’s nervous about meeting a civilian.

He knocks on the door and waits, the knob turning after a few moments.

“Um, hi,” the guy standing in the doorway says, looking confused.

He is not the Songbird and Taekwoon is a hundred percent sure about it; he’s looked at the Songbird’s almost full-body selfie enough times to memorise his apparent proportions, his skin tone, the fragility etched into all of his visible body parts. The person in front of him is tall and lean-bodied and has a tattoo peeking from the collar of his tank top and Taekwoon almost heaves a sigh when he notices it.

“Detective Jung Taekwoon,” he announces, holding up his badge. “I’d like to have a few words with you.”

The guy goes pale, but steps aside and lets Taekwoon into his small studio flat, shuffling to the couch to fetch his slippers.

“Are you Kim Wonshik?” Taekwoon asks, looking around the place so he doesn’t have to look the guy in the eye, still feeling wrong-footed from the whole thing just because the Songbird is involved.

“Yeah,” the man says and Taekwoon closes his eyes for a moment in relief. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know the Songbird?” Taekwoon inquires then, pocketing his hands so he won’t fidget so obviously.

“Song— what,” Wonshik looks even more confused, standing in the middle of his flat in a pair of basketball shorts and a white tank top. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Do you mean Jaehwan?”

“Jaehwan?” Taekwoon arches an eyebrow, his head snapping to Wonshik curiously.

“Ah, you don’t— oh,” Wonshik deflates and if possible, even more blood leaves his cheeks. “I— you might not be talking about him.”

“Has a website through which he recruits people he can trick for money by selling his body?” Taekwoon asks with a little bit of acid to it, and the blood returns to Wonshik's cheeks at that, turning it red.

“Listen, he’s not—”

“Do you know anything about his current whereabouts?”

“I don’t,” Wonshik says firmly and it’s true; Taekwoon sees the sincerity in his eyes and maybe some… sadness, too. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“Yes, well,” Taekwoon snorts, “that would earn you a few years in jail and not in the same cell with him. Just saying. Anyways, he’s got a phone number that is supposed to be yours. Did you possibly give him a device to use?”

Wonshik opens his mouth and then promptly closes it. He makes a face as he asks, “Okay, can I get a lawyer at this point?”

“You could,” Taekwoon replies a little impatiently. “But I don’t think you want to go into the process just yet; you’ll have enough time for that later. So?”

“Do you want me to tell you how I’m connected to him?” Wonshik squints. “Like, everything?”

“By all means, yes.”

“Alright, well—” Wonshik's bottom hovers above a chair and he motions towards the one closer to Taekwoon, although a little hesitatingly. “Sit down, if you want.”

“Thank you.”

Taekwoon pulls out the chair and sits, lacing his fingers on the table top.

“So,” Wonshik clears his throat, “I’d actually heard about Jaehwan's site from a friend and—”

“Who is that friend?”

Wonshik furrows his brow in judgement, his facial expression turning dark. Taekwoon doesn’t budge, but he can feel how much he’s annoying Wonshik.

“His name is Hongbin, Lee Hongbin,” Wonshik replies with a small sigh. “I’m not sure how he knows Jaehwan but I think he said something about some high school they attended together? So, I was, like, really under the weather and I’d been like that for a while at that point and Hongbin suggested I try meeting with Jaehwan.” He pauses, shutting his eyes for a second. “Jaehwan and I, we talked a lot through e-mails, it was a bit like online friendship at first, but then I… I don’t know, I kind of started to feel something for him. We met up after a while and talked a lot and started meeting each other from time to time.” He glances up at Taekwoon, his face flushed again. “I just really liked Jaehwan and um, well, he said he didn’t like me like that, but he still wanted to be friends with me, though it was difficult because of his… circumstances. I gave him my old phone because he once mentioned how much more comfortable it would be to talk to people by using a smartphone instead of e-mailing each other.”

“Are you saying he’s been operating a website which actually brings him a lot of money, but there was a time when he didn’t have a phone?” Taekwoon asks, disbelieving.

“The website is not his and he said he can’t have a phone because it’s dangerous,” Wonshik says, now obviously concerned that he’s saying too much. He averts his eyes. “The whole thing is totally different from how you see it.”

“Care to share how it’s different?”

Wonshik leans back in his chair, his face haggard like he has aged 20 years during their conversation. He looks broken and now it’s Taekwoon who feels confused.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Wonshik mumbles. “It’s— it’s just not my business to talk about, you know? I’ve never really been involved in the story apart from being Jaehwan's… friend, or whatever.”

“Are you currently in contact with Jaehwan?”

“No,” Wonshik shakes his head. “He’s not allowed to contact me.”

“What do you mean ‘not allowed’?”

Wonshik makes a wailing noise.

“Can we please stop now?”

“Alright,” Taekwoon takes a deep breath and stands up. “Thank you for your contribution, though; you’ve been a great help. Here’s my contact if you happen to remember something you wouldn’t like to keep to yourself.”

Wonshik slowly reaches out for the business card Taekwoon is offering him, turning it around between his fingers, looking at it, but probably not actually seeing it.

“Are you a real cop?” he asks, blinking up at Taekwoon.

“I am,” Taekwoon nods. “I have a gun and all.”

Wonshik snorts, half a smile quirking the left corner of his mouth upwards, but a beat later it dies down and he looks up with sadness in his eyes.

“Please, don’t hurt Jaehwan,” he says quietly. “He’s not the one at fault.”

 *

Leo hey

~Songbird~ oh hello~ what’s up?

Leo I’ve been thinking and I wanted to ask you if we could meet

~Songbird~ finally haha ofc we can sweetie when would u like to meet?

Leo maybe tonight? if possible?

~Songbird~ sure^^ can u come to the hotel i’m staying at?

No one can really accuse Taekwoon of not trying his best as he parks his car in front of the four-star hotel and turns the rear-view mirror towards himself, examining his own face. He looks like he normally does, really; poker face and a cutting glance, his mouth a tight line. He did spend a little more time combing his hair than he usually does and he also took a shower because he felt like he needed it, and it’s not like he’s dressed fancy in just a T-shirt and a pair of jeans with his favourite sneakers, though the extra sprinkle of cologne might have been too much. He runs a hand over his face, trying to make his stupid heart understand that this is work, this is not a date and if everything goes well, he’ll leave this place with Jaehwan sitting in the back with a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, and then he’ll have some paperwork to do at the station. He’ll be in bed by midnight, content and happy and tomorrow Hakyeon will tell him he’s getting a bonus for doing an excellent job on this case.

It’s going to be okay. This is going to work out.

Taekwoon tries very hard to keep his composure as he tells the receptionist he’s there to visit the guest in room 524 and gets the assent, his legs feeling heavy as they carry him into the lift.

Jaehwan sent him a picture earlier, of himself, clad in only an oversized white T-shirt and what must have been the hem of his briefs peeking, pale thighs and pink knees and muscular calves all on display. He asked Taekwoon if he thought that shirt was okay for tonight and Taekwoon remembers the mirror selfie now as he throws his head back against the unforgiving metal wall, closing his eyes.

It’s going to have to be okay.

The door to room 524 opens after his second knock and Taekwoon freezes up immediately.

It’s Jaehwan standing in the doorway; he can tell not only from the T-shirt he’s already seen in the selfie but also from the broad shoulders and small waist, from the shapely legs covered by the black fabric of a pair of trousers. And Jaehwan's face is beautiful; his eyes two sparkling, almond shaped gemstones above the perfect curve of his nose, his lips plump and red even like this, when he’s not pouting. His hair is a honey brown colour and looks silky with his fringe pushed back from his forehead but a tiny lock is hanging there still, like it didn’t want to be restrained by hair spray. Taekwoon feels his jaw drop slightly.

"Hi," Jaehwan says in the most pleasant voice Taekwoon has ever heard, a wide, somewhat crooked smile spreading on his lips and the slightest of dimples appearing on the two sides of his cheeks. "Come in."

Taekwoon blinks a few to clear his head, though he doesn't succeed. He steps into the hotel room that looks quite cool considering it's only a four-star hotel, the furniture simple and the bedsheets crisp and white. He doesn't know how to proceed.

Jaehwan closes the door and pads to him with his naked feet, standing in front of him with a gentle smile on his face. Taekwoon feels a blush spreading over the bridge of his nose.

"I—" he starts without a clear plan about what he really wants to say. "I— I'm—"

"Ssh," Jaehwan whispers and then laughs, cupping Taekwoon's cheeks in his hands. "It's going to be alright. You're here now."

Taekwoon's heart skips a beat and returns to its job at full speed as Jaehwan pulls him in and presses his lips against his own, kissing him slowly, sweetly. It only registers in the back of Taekwoon's mind that he shouldn't go into it, the end of his train of thought just slipping out of his grasp, leaving him helpless and defenceless in the face of Jaehwan's citrusy perfume and the softness of his lips, the warmth of his mouth, and his bony fingers in Taekwoon's hair.

Jaehwan's waist is small but just the right size in Taekwoon's hold and he feels himself melt against the boy, Jaehwan swallowing a quiet mewl when it escapes his throat.

He doesn't want to stop this.

Jaehwan pulls away after too little time, a hand resting on the side of Taekwoon's neck, his thumb touching his pulse point. He looks like a peach blossom, Taekwoon thinks, his lips even redder and his cheeks tinted with a somewhat dark shade of pink, eyes fluttering as he looks at Taekwoon.

"You're different from how I imagined," Jaehwan says, tilting his head to the side. "A lot more handsome."

Taekwoon blinks a few in embarrassment, suddenly too aware of the hands on him, of his hands on Jaehwan. He pulls back entirely.

"Uh, can we talk?" he asks.

You know, I'm actually here to arrest you—honestly, what the fuck is he doing.

"Talk?" Jaehwan asks and glances away into a corner. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Jaehwan, I—"

Jaehwan stills entirely, pricking up his pointy ears, the dismay clearly visible on his face as he starts breathing faster, his lips parting.

“Let’s go to the bar,” he says urgently, and a moment later he’s grabbing Taekwoon's wrist, tugging him out of the room and almost running through the corridor.

They stop in a corner just by the fire exit and Jaehwan—as small as he looks—pushes at Taekwoon's shoulders, making him fall against the wall with a yelp.

“I thought we were going to the bar?” Taekwoon mumbles.

“No,” Jaehwan replies, furrowing his brow. “We just had to get out of there. Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon says. Jaehwan's pretty eyes narrow and he seems to puff up a little. “And I’ll tell you who I am if you tell me why we had to get out of the room.”

“It’s bugged so he’ll know if you want to hurt me,” Jaehwan jabbers and that doesn’t serve with too much information. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?”

It feels like someone has just poured a bucket of ice water over his head and Taekwoon feels himself tense up. Jaehwan doesn’t seem to be particularly surprised anymore, nor does he look scared with his hands keeping Taekwoon's shoulders pinned to the wall; all he looks is angry and disappointed and hurt. And for some reason, Taekwoon feels ashamed.

“Listen,” Taekwoon starts, “what you’re doing is illegal and—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jaehwan rolls his eyes. “You were playing so well, I wouldn’t have thought— fucking Wonshik.”

“Okay, so, um,” Taekwoon straightens and forces Jaehwan's hands off his shoulders and instead, takes his wrists in his grasp. “I think it’ll be best if I take you to the station now.”

“No!” Jaehwan cries out, apparently shocked by his own volume. He shakes Taekwoon's hands off his wrists. “Don’t you understand? I’m not the one you should be after.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve tricked twenty-three people for money in the last few months; I’m pretty sure you’re the one I should be after,” Taekwoon replies, now getting angry.

“Has Wonshik told you about Hongbin?” Jaehwan asks, his eyes strangely wide like he’s afraid of the name.

“He said he’d heard of you from him.” Taekwoon knits his eyebrows. “Does he have anything to do with this whole thing?”

“Does he— oh my God,” Jaehwan goes pale and as he falls silent, Taekwoon can hear the vibration of his phone in the pocket of his trousers. Jaehwan fishes it out, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath as he looks at the screen, swiping to take the call. “Hey. No, it’s nothing. We just needed something to make the atmosphere less tense,” Jaehwan chuckles and he’s putting up a perfect act until his eyes wander up to Taekwoon's face and he bites his lower lip. “You want to come here? Ah, but we haven’t— I’m not… I’m not in danger, Hongbin,” his voice goes low and he almost whispers, “I don’t think you should come here.”

Taekwoon feels his hands ball up into fists, the confusion irking him more than anything. He wants Jaehwan to stop talking on the phone and explain everything, to untangle this mess in his head, and also—he slaps himself mentally at this—maybe to kiss some more. Fuck everything.

“Okay,” Jaehwan says dejectedly. “I love you, too.”

That’s a nice little figurative kick in the gut.

Jaehwan ends the call and lowers his head, and he looks so tiny as he keeps staring at the floor.

“He’s coming here,” Jaehwan sighs and looks up at Taekwoon with tears shining in his eyes. “This is all your fault and I… I don’t want to betray him, but I’m so tired.”

“Do you… that is… do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t really have a choice, now do I?” Jaehwan laughs hollowly and then he plops down on the floor. Taekwoon follows him down there and sits, watching as Jaehwan plays with a loose thread of his sock. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy and that this is unreal, but… so, the thing is that Hongbin had come up with this idea about half a year ago, I think? That we could make money with… well, me, because he said that a lot of men think I’m pretty?” He pauses.

“You’re really pretty,” Taekwoon says before he could think twice and then averts his eyes, a blush creeping up on his neck. Jaehwan snorts.

“I hate that you’re still so sweet when I’m making a confession that’s probably going to get me in jail,” he says. “But anyways, the point is that we’d set up that site and he’s not doing it… in such an immoral way? He only takes the money of those I agree to meet up with and as soon as he gets the confirmation from me that the guy has shown up, we charge their card. Your money has probably already been taken, actually.”

“I used an expired card,” Taekwoon mumbles.

Jaehwan laughs and this time it’s a happy one. He glances up at Taekwoon and says, “You’re not playing fair either.”

“Yeah, but I have legal permission for that,” Taekwoon replies and that makes Jaehwan chuckle again, the sound of it making a bunch of crazy butterflies swarm in Taekwoon’s stomach. “Are you, by any chance, you know… together? You said you loved him, too.”

That apparently saddens Jaehwan and his shoulders sag, his fingers trembling in the air and he stops playing with the thread.

“He really watches out for me and keeps me safe. It did start out like… dating, but I’ve been…” a deep breath, “I’ve got so tired of being used, because… I actually needed to… sometimes do service so those people I met up with could spread the word about this whole thing and we could get more guests and more money, but I didn’t have to do it every time. I’m just… I’m scared of getting out.”

“Scared?” Taekwoon asks. “Is he… threatening you or something?”

“No, of course not,” Jaehwan shakes his head. “I just… I knew there’d be trouble and I’m scared of… the consequences. For both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Taekwoon says and he knows how empty it sounds even if he feels close to angry tears from the whole situation. He has never before felt this strongly that he wanted to just disappear, he’s never wanted to jump into a different universe and start a new life from scratch as much as he does now. He doesn’t want to be Jung Taekwoon; he wants to be that funny-looking bellboy down the hall.

“There’s really nothing to do, right?”

Jaehwan exhales shakily and his eyes are huge and full of worry, sorrow, and regret. Taekwoon takes his fingers from his crossed ankles and holds his cold hands in his palms, lets Jaehwan bury his face into the crook of his neck, his lips quivering against Taekwoon's skin.

Jaehwan wilts in Taekwoon's hold like a small flower that suddenly got picked out of the soil and left under the piercing sun to die.

 *

The last time detective Jung Taekwoon sees his Songbird it’s in his cage.

Jaehwan has dark shadows contouring his glassy eyes and his skin is almost grey, his shoulder blades visible even under his shirt as if his wings have got torn out, leaving only the stubs there.

Taekwoon touches two fingers to the metal bars, tries to get closer to Jaehwan who is sitting in the corner, only half facing him, hugging his knobby knees to his chest.

Taekwoon wants to tell him he’ll get him out of there as soon as he can, he wants to tell him how he has already given his badge back, how he has already quit just so he can help, but Jaehwan doesn’t seem like he wants to hear any of those.

Taekwoon let him out of his prison only to lock him up in an entirely different way.

The Songbird can’t be free.

*it’s a raggiana bird-of-paradise

[thesquidwizard]

I was told reading  Philosophical problems with blah blah blah would answer why making 500 genders would solve gender stereotypes I am petty and affable so I read it

If you want my opinions and my mind slowly melting i am kindly putting this under a read more cuz its fucking long as shit

the TLDR is : this drivel doesnt mention the problems of gender stereotypes or neogenders at all its just some guy wanking on why women need to give up their spaces because he thinks their wrong and annoying ( Kathleen Stock especially)

I’d love to @ you lake-lady, but you blocked me for thought crimes and im to lazy to try to get around that ( if you actually read this before recommending it to me, you are very very strong and very very brainwashed)

the first 14 paragraphs are circle talk "GC feminists are wrong, i will prove their wrong, they think "this" it is wrong ill prove its wrong etc etc etc" if you survive that that, They focus on Kathleen Stock in their words "Stock presents an articulate, relatively comprehensive, and moderate form of gender-critical feminism" first: If Margie’s self-diagnosis (“I’m a boy”) is questioned by the therapist, the therapist can be construed as . . . “converting” . . . a trans child to a “cis” one. If, on the other hand, Margie’s self-diagnosis is affirmed unquestioningly, the therapist is effectively failing to affirm Margie in a sexual orientation of lesbianism; something which also looks like conversion by omission. (Stock, 2018e) -They spend 5 paragraphs explaining why Stocks hypothetical girl^ isnt converted to male heterosexualness by transitioning, and not affirming Marges Gender identity is Dangerous They do not address Stocks ACTUAL concern that Gender Affirming Therapy without any kind of therapy and research on GNC and SSA children is conversion by omission because it doesnt take into account if these feelings stem from gender stereotypes and homophobia. Stocks is not concerned that you are converting this girl straight( sex is real she would be SSA either way) she is concerned your transitioning her without affirming her sexuality and giving her support in the knowledge that being a lesbian is okay and perfectly normal.-

Next: concern about female-only spaces is about legal self-identification without any period of “living as a woman,” prior male socialisation in a way which exacerbates the tendency to violence against female bodies, and the fact that many self-identifying trans women . . . retain both male genitalia and a sexual orientation towards females. (stock) If the evidence shows (as, in fact, it is already showing) that some males—whether genuinely “truly” trans or just pretending—turn out to pose a threat to females, and it’s really hard to tell in advance which ones will, can’t we then make a social norm and/or law to exclude all [natal] males from female-only spaces . . . ? (also stock)

-Quotes are separated by garbage but this whole section is what we have all seen before " why must trans woman suffer, just because cis men hurt woman" except its really long it acknowledges male violence rates but refuses to acknowledge we have already seen men (and identified transwoman) taking advantage to hurt woman. This whole chunk is just SOME woman must be sacrificed for Trans feelings-

They do put: Finally, we know that some men who come into contact with children in their work will offend against them. Yet we do not exclude all men from working with children, even if using gender as a watershed would prevent those offenses. Why does the good of minimizing child sexual abuse not lead us inexorably to the conclusion that we must outlaw all male teachers and coaches? Because our practical reason recognizes complexity: We readily see that even the most highly desirable states of affairs (minimizing abuse of children) do not have simple, quasi-mechanistic implications for policy or decision-making, and that they do not justify the indiscriminate suppression of other goods (even less important ones, such as professional vocations).

-And id like to add with the rise in pedo crimes I am 100% down with separating men from children because i do not think any child should be endangered just to keep men in jobs.-

They also put this quote in:

there is clearly a difference between the experience of a child who is treated by others in way that are characteristic of boys and also feels like a boy, and a child who is treated by others in ways that are characteristic of boys whilst feeling that they are really a girl. (Finlayson et al., 2018)

-And are you sure? are you really sure? I feel like there might be differences between social conditioning, experience and feelings. A boy treated like a boy and a boy(who feels like a girl) treated like a boy are still experiencing being treated and raised like a boy?? one just has emotional differences  (is it internalized homophobia, Gender non conformity, a developed fetish?? who knows but they still experienced boyhood)-

-Next section says we cant make single stall or any other kind of netrual or trans bathrooms because its to hard? and it hurts trans feels reminding them that they have birth sexes because thats hate speech???-

also this: Our social world is arranged in a way that makes exclusion from the sex/gender they claim—on the basis of a lack of “authentic” belonging (Serano, 2007)—central to trans subordination. As with other forms of social subordination, trans exclusion has not only material dimensions (Blair & Hoskin, 2018; Hargie et al., 2017; Moolchaem et al., 2015; Movement Advancement Project and GLSEN, 2017; Rondón Garcia & Martin Romero, 2016; Serano, 2013; Stonewall, n.d.; Yona, 2015), but also discursive ones that work in accordance with the logic of so-called performatives. Performatives are utterances that do things with words: specifically, they accomplish something in the act of saying it (Austin, 1975). The classical example is marriage—in the act of declaring a couple married, a celebrant brings about a change in their normative status, provided the celebrant is the right person in the right circumstances. This presupposes a normative background (that is a set of laws, conventions, or other rules) governing all those matters: who qualifies as a legitimate celebrant, what the right circumstances are for the performative to do its work, what marriage status means in terms of spouses’ rights and obligations, etc.

-Celebrating a Marriage is celebrating a couples chosen form of representing their relationship publicly and adding each other to their legal family, how is that the same as letting men into woman's bathrooms because they have feelings??-

-Theres more babblery about subjugating trans people by not pretending biology is fake, and that saying they cant just taking womans rights and spaces is denying their reality and existence we find out the author is a gay(cis) man so why does he have opinions on womans spaces and issues who fucking knows ( he really likes the word unintelligible)-

-Im tired, Ive taken several breaks just to stay clear headed( mildly sane) and now we are onto why Trans inclusive practices dont threaten the concept of female, male, lesbian and gay. Okay buddy ole pal bring it on-

Stock (2018b) has also argued that trans inclusion on the ground of self-identification/declaration threatens “a secure understanding” of concepts intimately related to “woman”—namely, “female” and “lesbian.” It is hard to see this threat as a real one. After all, conceptually, “trans maleness” and “trans femaleness” presuppose “cis maleness” and “cis femaleness” as their other—namely, the case of female and male for which no transition, no reaching across, is required: the case of femaleness and maleness already on this side of (= “cis”) their sex.

-At some point i expect to find out Stock implied his dick is tiny or something " gender crit feminists are wrong im gonna argue with just this one" In this section he manages to be long winded and say nothing have a taste:

Stock (2019b) argues, correctly, that “sex [i.e., maleness and femaleness] is not determined by any single, unitary set of essential criteria,” and that “there is no single set of features a person must have in order to count as male or female.” She goes on to state that: (a) “you do still need to possess some” female (biological) sex characteristics to count as female; (b) that this is “a real, material condition upon sex-category-membership”; and (c) that “medical professionals [assigning sex]. . . rely upon an established methodology, aimed at capturing pre-existing biological facts” (Stock 2019b). Stock presents (a), (b), and (c) as if they were true without qualification. In fact, they only describe how, for very legitimate reasons, sex is understood and assigned within the discourses of biology and medicine; but our everyday usages of “male” and “female” may well be more capacious. It does not follow, of course, that there is no connection at all between these discursive domains—biology and the everyday. Rather, something like the biological meaning of “male” and “female” refer to the central cases of “male” and “female” as those terms feature in everyday usages. But those usages, if trans-inclusive (as they should be), will also cover, legitimately and usefully, noncentral cases of those selfsame terms.

-Yes you need to be female to be female, it doesnt matter what you look like how much you weigh your hobbies or tastes you just need to be female. Observed Biology is observed not assigned we dont pop out blank slates until someone says "ya this ones a girl"-

There really is no good reason to fear that such trans-inclusive practices will imperil “maleness” and “femaleness” as concepts. It is the very fact that those concepts have and will retain central cases that puts to rest any such fear. What makes something like the biological meanings of “male” and “female” the central cases of everyday usages of those words is “[o]rdinary-life truth seeking, a certain level of which is essential for survival”; this “involves a swift instinctive testing of innumerable kinds of coherence against innumerable kinds of extra-linguistic data” (Murdoch, 1992). Reproduction is a key aspect of human experience: The existence of each of us and the perpetuation of the human species presuppose it. The extra-linguistic reality of the dioecious configuration of human bodies, which is functional to human reproduction, means both that the concept of “female” and “male” are here to stay, and that their central cases will remain well-understood, even after we give up on trans-exclusionary attitudes, practices, and policies. To put it another way: trans-inclusive linguistic usages, policies, and so on, cannot threaten the distinction between the concepts of “male” and “female,” which hinges on the nondisposability of the central cases of those concepts.

For similar reasons, it is difficult to agree with Stock that characterizing as “gay” trans men attracted to men, and as “lesbian” trans women attracted to women, “leaves us with no linguistic resources to talk about that form of sexual orientation that continues to arouse the distinctive kind of bigotry known as homophobia” (Stock, 2019d). After all, our linguistic conventions make cissexual womanhood and manhood the central or paradigmatic cases of “womanhood” and “manhood”; cissexual (though not necessarily gender-conforming) lesbianism and male homosexuality the central or paradigmatic cases of “lesbianism” and “male homosexuality,” and so on. This will not change. First because of the prevalence of cissexual women/men and cissexual lesbians/gay men, in terms of sheer numbers, relative to trans women/men and trans lesbians/gay men. Second, because of the ways in which the concepts of “man,” “woman,” “gay,” “lesbian,” “cis,” and “trans” sit together with the concepts of “male” and “female,” which reference an extra-linguistic reality, of which, as we have already seen, we cannot but take notice. Given these linguistic and empirical facts, a trans-inclusive use of the terms “lesbian” and “gay” does not carry the dangers Stock (2019d) worries about.

-I keep going back and checking the date this was published  in 2020 clearly this man has neither been online except to stalk Stock, nor talked to a human who actually believes what he is arguing against. No one is mad at transwoman for liking woman or vise versa its the kind of woman and men they go after and EXPECT romance and validation from ( ie lesbians and gay men, ie threatening what lesbian and gay mean in "inclusive" climates) fucking knob.-

I dunno if this is translated or the writer isnt english but he keeps using subordination where "opression" would be used and umm. anyway onto "Overemphasizing Sex-Based Subordination"

first he explains the difference between paranoid and paranoid structuralism there is so much fucking bullshit then we get to some quotes! that are bullshit-

Even assuming that the socialization of trans girls mirrors that of cis boys, the fact that trans girls do not identify with maleness can be expected to make a difference to the outcomes of such socialization (Finlayson et al., 2018).

-this guys back, love this guy doesnt know you dont fucking socialize yourself-

It is a mistake to treat “violence and discrimination against trans women . . . as if it were unconnected to that faced by cis women” (Finlayson et al., 2018).

 -Finlayson marry me your so smart, that big brain of yours is sooo sexy. Anyway transwoman and "cis" woman face violence from the same people.. Men. but it is not for the same reasons and most transwoman who face violence are brown and black sex workers( if your gonna care go wholesys not halfseys). As opposed to woman who face violence no matter their class, race, nationality, age.. etc etc etc-

Saying “Not giving people everything they desire is not a denial of their humanity” (Allen et al., 2019) amounts to an insensitive dismissal of the serious argument that trans exclusion is ipso facto harmful.

-I want an affordable home and access to food and water whenever i am hungry, you want me to pretend reality doesnt exist so your feefees dont get hurt-

The claim that women “are a culturally subordinated group . . . [while] at best, trans women are a distinct subordinated group; at worst . . . members of the dominant group” entirely discounts the ways in which sex, gender, and cis/trans status intersect. These intersections produce more complex, shifting, and context-dependent power relationships than are captured by the M > F formula.

-Sex based oppression is actually like jello, sometimes woman are less oppressed or oppressed slightly more to the left, I too can just kinda say words-

A dubious assumption underlies this statement: “[T]he fact that our concept-application [of, e.g., ‘woman’] might indirectly convey disadvantage towards some social groups [e.g., trans women] is not itself a reason to criticise the concept use, because the concept use has a further valuable point” (such as “to pick out a distinctive group, relative to recognisably important interests”) (Stock, 2019e). The dubious assumption here is that the “valuable point” of a restrictive use of the concept will be lost if the concept is broadened. The assumption is dubious because even in its broad, inclusive use, the concept retains a readily identifiable central case.

-Yes you dunder head if we start calling lizards mammals we lose the point of what makes a mammal a mammal, which complicates and endangers our way of researching and understanding mammals by making woman "whoever the fucks wants to be one" we loss the ability to easily talk about things that are exclusive to woman the more female language is edified the harder it is for females to unite to talk about womans issues, womans health, girls puberty, womans oppression etc etc.-

-my fuck i dont even care to learn this mans name and i have a personal hatred just for him, i hope ya'll have noticed he uses several different "sources" for his arguments and yet pins GC feminism on Stock alone. Anyway here we go into Doing Philosophy and Debating Policy in the Age of Social Media and Digital Platforms ( i think this man nuts every time he types out philosophy)-

my god we have brough Plato into this, Stocks must stand alone but we are at fucking plato, anyway this section actually has some brains in it there drivel but also truth:

Needless to say, in real-world face-to-face exchanges, unalloyed communicative action is known only by approximation. But there are very good reasons to think that the distance between the ideal (namely, communicative action) and the real is especially wide in the context of the quasi-spoken digital media used to construct (and respond to) the gender-critical case against trans inclusion. Stock (2019f) herself, discussing the reception of her arguments, has complained about countless “half-arsed takedown attempts” by “online philosophers,” crediting, conversely, philosophers she meets offline with “interesting, constructive, and charitable” objections. She also notes that social media siphons “users into paranoid, angry silos” (Stock, 2019d), and that “when reading disembodied words on a screen” it is “easy enough” to engage in “projection” (Stock, 2019a). Why and how do social media and allied platforms have this potential for distorting genuine communicative action?

First, they enable new manipulative communication practices, such as flaming and trolling. The popular support base of gender-critical academics makes ample use of these, though gender-critical scholars are also at the receiving end. Rather than using the quasi-spoken features of social media and allied platforms with a view to genuinely advancing understanding, online activists may exploit these features for strategic aims. Common techniques include drowning a post or blog with irrelevant comments; exposing the blogger to ridicule; deflecting attention from the point she made; forcing her to address spurious objections; pretextually professing a failure to understand, demanding endless further explanations; and so on. Some of these techniques are available in spoken exchanges, but social media and allied platforms magnify their power by enabling “widely-distributed individuals to organize and galvanize around issues of common interest [or] political advocacy” (Stewart, 2016); and by facilitating the use of nonverbal or nonargument-based, but effective, communicative devices, such as memes, gifs, and emoticons.

Another way in which these digital media distort genuine communicative action is by affecting the motivations of the blogger, or micro-blogger, herself. Specifically, they facilitate the interference with genuinely communicative goals (reaching understanding) by noncommunicative, strategic aims. I will discuss three: acquiring influence, career progression, and venting.

In traditional academic communicative practice, one’s recognition as an expert is supposed to follow from the credit that accrues to one as a result of the soundness of one’s research methods and arguments, judged through peer-review processes. But “in the era of social media there are now many different ways that a scientist can build their public profile; the publication of high-quality scientific papers being just one” (Hall, 2014). Veletsianos and Kimmons (2016) have found, by examining a large data set of education scholars’ participation on Twitter, that

being widely followed on social media is impacted by many factors that may have little to do with the quality of scholarly work . . . and . . . that participation and popularity may be impacted by a number of additional factors unrelated to scholarly merit (e.g., wit, controversy, longevity; p. 6).

-This section like every section goes on forever but we finally finally reach our conclusion-

Cooper (2019) has invoked a legal pluralist perspective to argue that it is possible, and may be desirable, for gender as conceived by gender-critical feminists (as “sex-based domination”) and gender as conceived in trans-affirming terms (as “identity diversity”) to coexist side-by-side in the law. Access to women’s spaces is just the kind of policy matter that need not choose between one conception of gender and the other: it can and should be granted on the basis of both. While a compelling feminist case has been made for inclusion (Finlayson et al., 2018), the best feminist case against inclusion suffers from a number of argumentative fallacies (Aristotle, n.d.), and is at odds with well-established and sound uses of practical reason. Many problems in gender-critical thought are consistent with the explanation that paranoid structuralism is too often presupposed in gender-critical work, rather than being treated, productively, as a hypothesis. The nature of the publication outlets favored by gender-critical feminists (social media, blogs, etc.) is also likely to be implicated in generating some of these problems.

I think one of the things i would like anyone who managed to read this entire thing to take away from this is that not ONCE were male bathrooms or male spaces mentioned, not once did this apparently "cis" gay man say that he welcomes and wants transmen in HIS spaces or that he has even thought about it

(((( also he didnt even mention neo genders so my original question 100% unanswered, even fuckface magee doesnt think demiboys are real. He doesnt want to or even mention solving sex based oppression he just wants woman to stop fighting to keep men out))))