Rose quartz tells Jax that she is a real woman! This is also for myself.

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@taigan-hse
Rose quartz tells Jax that she is a real woman! This is also for myself.

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How the Closet Door Opened
I have had this in my mind for MONTHS. MONTHS! I have been waiting so long to not only make this, but post it. In some ways, I wish my egg cracked earlier, and in others, I'm happy it took me till after high school to realize, because it would not have been fun going through school with that knowledge. It's a bit of a butterfly effect, one small push in a direction of discovery had me become who I am. It's great that I am who I am, even if I'm yet to be satisfied with it. But there is one thing about this story that is both the most true and the funniest, and that's Alejandro Saab turned me into a woman. And that OT chucked my egg into an industrial wood chipper.
Not too long after this, legitimately in the same month, I'd go on to meet someone who, to this day, is still my closest and most best friend just randomly. Then not terribly long after meeting him, I left a horrible friend group (who still openly talk about and degrade me) and, despite all that goes on in the world, I've experienced more genuine joy than I did before. I can see a future, it's not something I could before.
What finally broke my steel-reinforced egg open was a twitter post. I deleted my twitter account in early ‘25 (guess why) so I don’t have the link to it any more but I saved the text from it. Maybe this will help someone else out there.
Fish don't notice water. It's all around them. Most fish have never left it.
And often, trans people in denial don't notice the gender dysphoria that suffuses their daily lives.
I'm just going to list some idiosyncrasies and discomforts that I didn't realize were dysphoria:
When you get ready to go, you just roll out of bed and throw on whatever. You don't really do any self-grooming, or care about what's on your body. You're a little proud of your lack of vanity, your deeper, non-appearance-level existence
Your clothes are chosen almost entirely for comfort. And for you, comfortable means loose and baggy. You can't stand wearing clothes (that others claim are flattering!) that are close-fitting in the wrong places, that draw your own attention to certain parts of your body.
Clothes shopping for yourself is a hassle at best and a source of stress and anxiety at worst. When you do find clothes that fit and look okay, they don't make you *happy*. You don't feel more confident in them. You're just relieved you can go home.
Occasions where you *must* dress up, like weddings and funerals and job interviews, are the worst. Even after all of the grooming and wardrobing, you feel self-conscious and awkward in formalwear. It makes you feel *fake,* like a lump of sludge pretending to be a fancy person.
You have an underlying sense that you are "not like" most people. Your friends might get you, but you draw an instinctive and unconscious line between you and "normal" people. When you interact with a "normal" person, you're not sure what to say or how to act.
When you interact with very masculine men, you're nervous. You don't really know how to carry on a conversation with them, or want to. You feel an expectation, from them, to be something you're not. You quietly judge them for being too "bro"-y, "basic."
You're awkward at social touch. You might crave touch, like most people, but you feel like you're almost entirely incapable of receiving it warmly. When giving a hug, something about your torso feels like it will be *offensive* to others. (Whatever it is, they don't notice.)
You can't talk about sex, or attraction, or the bodies of people you're supposed to be attracted to. Even when your commentary is solicited, everything you could say feels unwanted and inappropriate, even if it'd be fine coming from someone else. You freeze up.
You struggle even to voice innocent physical compliments to others, like "Looking good!" You are hyper-aware that virtually anything could sound like unwanted sexual attention, coming from you. You feel like your attention is uniquely, universally unwelcome.
You find it hard to prioritize your own feelings. You're aware of emotions you *should* be feeling, but they're distant and fake-seeming. When someone else is upset, it's much more real and urgent. You believe this is just your stoic, protective nature.
You often feel directionless in life. When asked about career goals in High School, you didn't really care about your answer. Even careers centered in your interests seemed kind of intolerable. You struggle to imagine a future for yourself where you are happy or fulfilled.
You only take steps to better your life when external forces *make* you. You'd rather withdraw and self-minimize and focus on escapist hobbies. You're just not motivated to attain nice things for yourself. (You tell yourself that this is a zen acceptance, a freedom from desires.)
Later, when you meet real queer people, or your friends come out of the closet, you start to idolize them. But you're also jealous. They're *free* and *real* in a way that seems impossible for straight people, like you. They have huge, *real person* worries and desires and lives.
Lemme see your face - Part 1/3
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"Hot Date pt. 1/6"
You'll know things are really heating up when she switches to Bob's Burgers.
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inspired by Coles Phillips’ Fadeaway Girls illustrations 🌸
Trans women gotta spend their whole childhoods larping society’s headcanon for them with no chance of joy or even a rudimentary sense of self and then they’re expected to pretend that this was actually an advantageous position
I never knew what it was to be a boy. I knew what it was to be defective.
I knew about never fitting in to any social setting. Being unable to relate to boys and being rejected by girls who saw me as a predator invading their spaces. And growing up in the American south in the 80s? I knew what I was: a loser. Transgender was nowhere on my radar. I would burst into uncontrollable tears on almost every Boy Scout camping trip. It was assumed to be homesickness, but now I think was being forced into an all-male environment. I was sent to two different therapists which my mom admitted decades later was a huge mistake. My only solace was theater, where (while I always played male parts) I could at least get emotional distance. At least it was acknowledged that I wasn’t the man I was pretending to be.
What I find amusing is that, like, ten years ago, people used to cite both JK Rowling and Elon Musk as examples of billionaires who weren't evil; who'd actually built their fortunes without exploitation, or even by providing actual social benefit commensurate with their wealth.
Anyways, I can't say I'm thrilled with the process for getting there, but I'm glad that nobody does this anymore (at least no one with any credibility in lib-left circles). I'm glad that we can now just straightforwardly say that billionaires are bad and shouldn't exist.
It's like. you don't get your own childhood. not "didn't get the childhood you wanted," it's "didn't get a childhood that was yours." and you're supposed to be normal about it. and people tell you Oh you didn't miss much it was bad and awful for xyz reasons you really don't Actually want to be raised as a girl. well, what if I was a girl anyway and everyone acted like I wasn't. called me a name that wasn't mine. told me I was a person I wasn't until I believed it and clung to that fake person until I saw it was cutting into my hands. it wasn't mine. that child wasn't me; wasn't allowed to be me; wasn't even allowed to know there was a me. what if, on a very real level, my childhood was not mine? what if I wanted a childhood where I was actually seen, even if it hurts? and I'm supposed to be normal about it

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I think those fancomics where Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes is transgender are cute and fun but I also think it's a deep misunderstanding of Calvin's character to think he would transition into a heterosexual normie who goes to her high school reunion. That girl would have neopronouns and fang implants
Adult Calvin is a tattoo artist named Panthera who is the bassist in a terrible metal band called Captain Napalm and Hobbes helps do faer E injections
I know it's like 2 weeks too late to change it but I'm so mad I didn't realize that the band would obviously be called "Get Rid Of Slimy GirlS". I walk the road of shame
Calvin&Hobbes Tribute by patronustrip
One year ago I done this comic tribute to my favorite comic ever. This was sketched, fast and … full of my heart. It isn’t technically perfect, and I love it just for this. Find it on my DeviantArt. If the images are too tiny: right click > save or right click > copy and past url. Enjoy. :)
this is so fucking beautiful I feel like i’m gonna fall into a crying mess oh my god
lizzie out of context ep. 10
🐈⬛🪲🐈⬛
“Her eyes…”
I might be reaching, but it seems somehow significant to me that Ribbit and Pomni both had black eyelids…
Whereas everyone else in the circus doesn’t.
Maybe a reason why Jax was able to open up to Pomni? Because something about her felt…familiar?

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Jaxscape
Why is this so accurate?!