#I REALLY LIKE THE GENDERS YOU COIN LOL

[im-a-loaf]

^ WHAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTT ?!?!!!??!!? /pos

[sealedterror]

Stellaron Hunters and Astral Express Parallels

So, I've noticed that the Stellaron Hunters are basically a darker, murdery, and morally grey parallel version of the more heroic Astral Express, with every member mirroring another from the other group. Two sides of the same coin, if you will. First thing I'd like to point out, both factions don't really follow any current aeon. They "follow" (very loose term here) the missing-in action Akivili and the "Destiny" that Elio forsees. Both factions also are deeply involved with Stellarons(we encounter a stellaron on every planet, the Stellaron Hunters hunt them. Obviously) Here's some similarities I've thought of between the members and some theories based off each other: !!SPOILERS AHEAD!!

Dan Heng and Blade:

Both from Xianzhou,

Immortal in some way(Blade's self-regenerating and Dan Heng's reincarnations)

Same gender

Dan heng's five star form enhances his basic attack, like Blade, who I BET was ALSO a four star before the mara and Jing Liu incident

Similar age? Don't really know exact timeline between them

Both feature flowers in their gameplay(lotus flowers and spider lilies)

Himeko and Kafka:

Both intelligent women

The pseudo-moms of their faction.

I might be pulling out of my ass here, but I'd like to point out that both of them use both a ranged weapon(Himeko's laser and Kafka's gun) and also a melee weapon(Kafka's katana and Himeko's grator).

Since they are each others parallel, I'd like to make the assumption that since Himeko was the first one to join the Astral Express, that Kafka was the first one to join Elio. It just fits with the known info we have and clears up any ambiguity, but you don't have to strictly adhere by it lol.

Pom Pom and Elio

"Animals" yeah right

The being who leads their group in the direction wanted(conducter, scriptwriter, best destiny, best path to blaze)

You assume they are the cute mascot at first, but then there is something...exceptional about them, that you can't quite pin down.

Both are sentient and can presumably talk(Elio might just write to communicate, how would that work though? Toe beans? Meow to text? Lmao)

Wait....with synestheia beacons that's actually very possible. Oh god

March 7th and Silver Wolf(HEAR ME OUT)

The trendy, youthful girl of the group

....Use of technology?

yeah i got nothing BUTBUTBUT

March 7th's mysterious pasttttt. Like, the similarities between Danheng and Blade weren't revealed until his five star form was revealed and I'm making the theory that when March 7th's mysterious past is revealed, the similarities between her and Silver Wolf will appear!!!!

So Silver Wolf is from Punklord, is extremely accomplished and powerful, chaotic neutral with a sense of wanderlust. I don't know much about her(don't have her character/character story) so I can't say much more, but what I do know seems pretty plausible for March's former self.

It supports my theory that March 7th's five star form will be Nihility. Imbibiter Lunae was Destruction, like Blade. The memokeeper in March's quest said her past would "only bring her pain". How nihilistic is that? Either way, I'm definitely pulling xD

Stelle/Caleus and Firefly/Sam(the best for last ;)

So this is the one that really cemented this theory into my mind. So far, you might have noticed that every member's mirror image is the same gender(with the exception of Catlio and PomPom, I'll talk about it in the comments). But Trailblazer has TWO genders/personas. You know who ALSO has two genders/personas?FIREFLY/SAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Some theory and more similarities between them

They both are the explosive power powerhouse of their group(Stellaron and Sam's firepower)

Both pretty smart(dubious) and funny(hilarious, the both of them)

They both eat questionable things...Trailblazer's trash consumables and Firefly's woodchip Oak Cake(seriously, read the description, do they have iron stomachs or something??)

...So they might have iron stomachs.

Both were presumably artificially made. We know Firefly/Sam is(born to fight in a war) and the Trailblazer is a vessel of a Stellaron. There has to be some funky, wonky, genetic/biological makeup for that.

Welt Yang and no one lmao

Lonely ass old man, no ship?(making the no bitches face)

Anyway, I presume he doesn't have any parallel bc he's from another universe. I don't know much cause I haven't played Honkai Impact. Something about a comic and "herscherr"? Idrk but. I suppose Luocha could join the Stellaron Hunters. That would be crazy as hell and if it happens I CALLED IT, but it probably won't. Probably.

There is also the theory Sunday joined the Stellaron Hunters. It's honestly really interesting and if that's true.....Welt Yang and Sunday don't have any similarities so that's tossed out the window. So, that only leaves the possibilty that we will have a mirrored someone of Sunday joining the Astral Express in the future. That would be INSANE but fun as hell like, can you imagine?

On another, slightly less speculative note, I'd like to point out that the five stars of the Astral Express have the same paths as the Stellaron Hunters. DHIL and Blade, are both Destruction. The Trailblazer started off as Destruction and Firefly/Sam is Destruction. As I theorized above, March 7th's five star form is likely Nihility, just like Silver Wolf. Except for Himeko and Kafka. Hmmmm

It is also my theory that Kafka was supposed to be Erudition, like Himeko, but the Stellaron Disaster on her homeplanet altered her path to Nihility. We know how smart Kafka is and we've seen paths change, Dan Heng changed to Hunt after doing away his vidyadhara features, and we have switched paths multiple times now. But we know we and Dan Heng can switch between paths anytime. I think Kafka's case is different, in that she can't switch and the Stellaron permanently altered her, removing her fear and switching her Path.

So this concludes my rant, are you convinced yet ;)? It's really interesting that the two factions mirror each other so deeply. I am getting the message that, whatever our fates are, they are deeply intertwined.

Thanks a bunch for reading this far and please, let me know what you think! May the Trailblaze be with you....or something lol

Edit: AAAAAA, Firefly's pool cutscene!!! She said, and I quote "The Astral Express and the Stellaron Hunters are like light and shadow. We walk on different paths, intertwined, moving forward and growing together...Maybe the end is predestined, but, it is not today."

Idgaf, I'm taking this as confirmation!! My theories are becoming true!!!!! *high pitched squealing* Show me more, Honkai Star Rail!!!!

[twost3ps]

Since ya doing au and made Emily Michael and Adam's daughter what about an au where Charlie is Lucifer and Adam's daughter just curious how that would come out of your artistic mind. Love ur art is PEAK bro

AWWW thank you so much!!!! AUSGEHYSGEUSGSUWBSBS

But totes I’ve had thought of this b4. Thank you for giving this prompt so I had an excuse to draw and write it out!!!

An au where Adam and Lucifer are Charlie’s dad… umm well there are a couple of ways this could go….

But the first that comes to mind is the one where Adam falls with Lucifer and they have Charlie. Idk if either Lucifer seahorses it and has the baby or if Adam is the one that carries. Idk first man sure, but yk maybe god was like: hey idk what genitals to slap on this guy so let’s do both and gave him both. When Lilith’s gender was determined, it was a flip of a coin. Adam could have just been the mother if it landed on the other side lol. Or maybe if he falls, god strips him of his title as a man, like Lilith, and swaps his genitals. So basically intersex Adam.

Either way, silly girl Charlie, here ya go! (I don't draw her enough)

Even as Adam's kid, I don't actually think Charlie changes all that much. Personality wise, at least. She is very much like her dad lucifur- a silly lovable dreamer- but some of Adam still leaks through, obviously. She's definitely a mommy's girl, and in this case, I'd like to think Adam is the mom figure. So instead of taking liliths more regal and more elegant choices of fashion and way of goinh, she takes on more of a punk and grunge look with a mix of her original style and a bit more agression.

For her looks I think she'd have dirty blonde hair and it would be short (it's my preference, lol), and her clothes are a bit more... punk? She dresses much more losely imo , def because of Adam. She keeps her horns out for the fun of it and her emo face still kinda stays with her, especially after Adam praising her for her look when she was in that phase. She does some sick eyeliner and eyshadow. She HAS to play an instrument so she knows the bass and strangly enough the keytar. I also think she's a bit chubbier because she maybe shared her dad's appetite idk.

But overall, she is still a sweet girl with a dream to help sinners. She's just way more assertive and quick tempered.

I won't lie, I got inspired by one of my friends' relationships with her dad and both lovingly insult each other to death. They talk about how much they "hate" eachother, but everyone clearly understands that both would die for one another for sure, especially Adam.

He may say something like. "Oh Charlie? Yeah if it were up to me I'd sell her for a new guitar" right infront of her but she's laughing so hard as Adam holds her close in a side hug because she knows he's joking.

Idk how to explain it but ifkyk, they lovingly talk bad about eachother but somehow it makes you understand that they really do love eachother as parent and child.

As for Adam and Lucifurs relationship, I genuinely dunno. I kinda want them to be a bit strained because even after the fall, Adam is still loyal to heaven. He's not lilith, who wants freedom - Adam likes security, and even if rule under heaven is restrictive, atleast hes safe. Charlie, to Adam, is one of the only good things that ever came out of the fall, and he would fall again and again just so she could be his. Like Lilith, Charlie is mainly parented by Adam, but it's because Charlie was the only shining light Adam had down in hell. Overtime Adam and Lucifur possibly heal and truly get together, but when Charlie was really young, they were not an item at all.

Then there are other options of Charlie being Lucifur and Adam's baby-

Charlie is born under an angel Adam and fallen lucifur and Adam decides to take Charlie and raise her in heaven

Adam is in no way related to Charlie, but one way or meets her and kinda just adopts her. Lucifur doesn't know why but Adam stakes claim ig

There are more potential ones but I'm not really a writer or an idea maker lol. IM NOT THAT CREATINVE SJVDEHBSBS But I think that this is just a great concept lolol a bit harder to work with than the secret royal family stuff but still fun to think about overall

I might come back to this one day o3o

[gendrie]

arya and melisandre are really interesting foils to me. i don’t think it ever gets discussed, though. theres not really a lot of overlap between arya fans and team dragonstone fans i guess lol. but arya and melisandre are the only female povs to truly practice sorcery. theres so much to compare and contrast between them. at the start of the series arya is only 9 years old. she is just a child and the youngest female pov. melisandre is much, much older. we don’t even know how old, but she’s been practicing magic “for years beyond count” so...she’s the oldest pov by far. 

they're represented by contrasting elements: water and fire. melisandre has a serene aura. arya has a more wild temperament. melisandre is statuesque. arya is petite. both are described as being slender and graceful. they speak several tongues including high valyrian. 

While the boy was gone, Melisandre washed herself and changed her robes. Her sleeves were full of hidden pockets, and she checked them carefully as she did every morning to make certain all her powders were in place. (Melisandre, ADWD)

Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. (Arya, TWOW) 

they’re both fairly unconventional for their gender too. neither could be called a “proper” (ie: submissive) lady. they are driven and dangerous. melisandre comes to be seen as stannis’ “true queen” but she views herself as a knight in her own way. she casts an illusion to look very appealing and yet she’s also deeply intimidating to most. stannis is impressed with melisandre’s ability to inspire fear even in grown men. 

“I have ships . . . and I have her. The red woman. Half my knights are afraid even to say her name, did you know? If she can do nothing else, a sorceress who can inspire such dread in grown men is not to be despised. A frightened man is a beaten man. And perhaps she can do more. I mean to find out.” (Davos, ACOK)

Gendry and Hot Pie did not question her choice. She had the map, after all, and Hot Pie seemed almost as terrified of her as of the men who might be coming after them. He had seen the guard she'd killed. It's better if he's scared of me, she told herself. That way he'll do like I say, instead of something stupid. (Arya, ASOS) 

arya has a fierce reputation to those who know her but she’s only a small child and vulnerable so most don’t view her as a potential threat. she shares her soul with a ferocious direwolf and aims to embody those traits herself. she is a leader by nature. arya has gotten boys to follow her command despite being younger and a girl. 

Melisandre paid the naked steel no mind. If the wildling had meant her harm, she would have seen it in her flames. Danger to her own person was the first thing she had learned to see, back when she was still half a child, a slave girl bound for life to the great red temple. It was still the first thing she looked for whenever she gazed into a fire. (ADWD) 

relatively speaking, we don’t know a lot about melisandre, but we do know she was a slave at one point and likely from humble origins. she has devoted her life in service to r’hllor. whatever connected her to her old life is a distant memory. 

“We are but servants of the God of Many Faces." "Valar dohaeris." All men must serve. "You know the words, but you are too proud to serve. A servant must be humble and obedient." "I obey. I can be humbler than anyone." (Arya, ADWD)

arya has been enslaved too, but she was born the daughter of a great lord and lady. as her house has fallen arya is driven across the narrow sea to the temple of the many faced god. she is trying to be a servant of god, but the results are mixed. arya has a lot of previous allegiances because of her place in the world. she will not be able to make the sacrifice in the end. 

"A shadow is a thing of darkness." "You are more ignorant than a child, ser knight. There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows." (Davos, ACOK)

"All gods have their instruments, men and women who serve them and help to work their will on earth. “ (Arya, AFFC) 

both of their storylines are deeply involved with religion. arya is in religious training currently and she has significant interactions with all the major religions in asoiaf. arya is tolerant and curious. even if she is a bit skeptical of the gods in general. the gods she truly follows of the old gods of the north. 

Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat. (Arya, ACOK) 

for a character who hasn’t stepped foot in the north since her first chapter weirwoods are an important symbol in arya’s storyline. they represent her faith and culture, her identity and her family, her past and her future. they show up in every book for her in one form or another. 

The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said . . . but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman's hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods. (Jon, ASOS) 

melisandre would have burned the weirwood at winterfell if jon had accepted stannis’ offer to become jon stark, lord of winterfell. that’s why he rejected it. 

The red woman walked round the fire three times, praying once in the speech of Asshai, once in High Valyrian, and once in the Common Tongue. Davos understood only the last. "R'hllor, come to us in our darkness," she called. "Lord of Light, we offer you these false gods, these seven who are one, and him the enemy. Take them and cast your light upon us, for the night is dark and full of terrors." (Davos, ACOK) 

melisandre is not tolerant or curious. she views any religion that is not r’hllor as false. arya is familiar with r’hllor too. she has seen men rise from the dead before. she knows thoros of myr another red priest who receives visions too.

Soon she could even feel the heat in the air, as red R'hllor's worshipers lifted their voices in prayer. "For the night is dark and full of terrors," they prayed. Not for me. Her nights were bathed in moonlight and filled with the songs of her pack, with the taste of red meat torn off the bone, with the warm familiar smells of her grey cousins. Only during the days was she alone and blind. (Arya, ADWD) 

a major factor in this faith is fear of death and darkness. that is what melisandre preaches. she is terrified of the dark and won’t even let the lights go out in her chambers. which i think is a fascinating character trait for a character as old as her. fear of the dark is a trait associated with children. but arya, the child, learns early on to not fear the darkness. 

She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night. (Melisandre, ADWD)

mel is afraid to dream and rarely sleeps because of it. she associates both with the great other. 

Some mornings Arya did not want to wake at all. She would huddle beneath her cloak with her eyes squeezed shut and try to will herself back to sleep. If the Hound would only have left her alone, she would have slept all day and all night. And dreamed. That was the best part, the dreaming. She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. (Arya, ASOS) 

even if she sometimes struggles with nightmares(/depression) dreams have been a great source of comfort for arya more often than not. 

“The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good." She took a step toward him. "Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war." (Davos, ASOS) 

the stance that melisandre takes is somewhat extreme. she subscribes to a completely black and white morality. melisandre's entire mission is to fight against death. she has done a better job than most. but even melisandre the red priestess of asshai cannot escape death forever. 

The kindly man chuckled. "He is a man like any other, with light in him and darkness. It is not for you to judge him." That gave her pause. "Have the gods judged him?" (Arya, ADWD) 

the faceless men are, obviously, a problematic institution, but they are teaching arya valuable lessons. the order is represented by the colors black and white - but they’re not at war. they are in balance. imo, this is going to be the outcome of the war to come. you cannot beat death. the faceless men are right when they say “valar morghulis”

"You are safe here. This is the House of Black and White, my child. Though you are young to seek the favor of the Many-Faced God." "Is he like the southron god, the one with seven faces?" "Seven? No. He has faces beyond count, little one, as many faces as there are stars in the sky. In Braavos, men worship as they will . . . but at the end of every road stands Him of Many Faces, waiting. He will be there for you one day, do not fear. You need not rush to his embrace." (Arya, AFFC) 

the hob&w, according to the kindly man, is “a place of peace” where death is “not the worst thing” and “always gentle”. the many faced god is the god of death and is therefore, likely, the great other from an entirely different perspective. death, despair, darkness are all parts of the human experience. they are often painful and scary, but everyone has to face them. 

Jon Snow turned to Melisandre. "What sorcery is this?" "Call it what you will. Glamor, seeming, illusion. R'hllor is Lord of Light, Jon Snow, and it is given to his servants to weave with it, as others weave with thread." [...] She made it sound a simple thing, and easy. They need never know how difficult it had been, or how much it had cost her. That was a lesson Melisandre had learned long before Asshai; the more effortless the sorcery appears, the more men fear the sorcerer. (Melisandre, ADWD)

"This will hurt," he warned her, "but pain is the price of power. Do not move." "Mummers change their faces with artifice," the kindly man was saying, "and sorcerers use glamors, weaving light and shadow and desire to make illusions that trick the eye. These arts you shall learn, but what we do here goes deeper. Wise men can see through artifice, and glamors dissolve before sharp eyes, but the face you are about to don will be as true and solid as that face you were born with."

She probed around inside her mouth with her tongue, but found no holes or broken teeth. Sorcery, she thought. I have a new face. An ugly, broken face. (Arya, ADWD)

they might be on opposing teams but the skills they use have quite a bit of overlap. both utilize sorcery and bloodmagic. these are difficult, costly, painful things to learn. melisandre is a very impressive sorceress because she’s studied her craft for so long. she is able to work several glamors at once. she’s also able to do her whole shadow baby assassin thing. 

if arya stuck around with the faceless men long enough she would learn glamor too. it’s not the faceless men’s trademark, though. they use bloodmagic from valyria to create disguises that cannot be seen through using the faces of the dead. arya’s been trained and has a sharp eye to begin with. i think if her and melisandre met arya would be able to see past her glamor which would be a really cool perspective. 

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" (Jon, ADWD) 

“I told you that the Lord of Light would hear your prayers. You wanted a way to save your little sister and still hold fast to the honor that means so much to you, to the vows you swore before your wooden god." She pointed with a pale finger. "There he stands, Lord Snow. Arya's deliverance. A gift from the Lord of Light … and me." (Melisandre, ADWD) 

arya is completely unaware of melisandre’s existence, but the opposite is not true. melisandre has become an important figure on the wall. she is the one who comes up with the idea to send mance south to rescue “arya”. it seems melisandre is going to become a valuable ally to jon snow (she’s gonna bring his ass back to life lbr) and in the fight against the others. 

The king would only want to marry [Arya] to one of his own men, Horpe or Massey or Godry Giantslayer, and the gods alone knew what use the red woman might want to make of her. (Jon, ADWD)

it’s likely her and arya will cross paths at some point. it’s one of the meetings i’d be most excited to see. 

[lycandrophile]

hi tiffany. you're such a feminine woman lol.

this shit is so funny to me because absolutely no one who has actually seen me irl would call me “such a feminine” anything.

i had a patient at work greet me and a few of my coworkers (all cis women) by saying “hey pretty ladies…and…you’re a girl, right?” with the last part directed at me. i’m so aggressively non-feminine by traditional standards that even the people who assume i’m a woman cannot in good conscience include me in “pretty ladies”. if anything, the way i present myself is so ambiguous that you can almost see people flip a coin in their head when they meet me to decide what gender they think i am, and i’ve been existing in that androgynous space for so long that when i initially came out to my dad as agender 8 years ago, he basically just said “yeah, that makes sense, you never did like all the girly stuff.” so you’re just wrong, and you’d be wrong even if i was a woman because i would absolutely not be a feminine one.

and honestly, the fact that you assume i’m super feminine just because you see me as a woman is just misogyny wrapped in a layer of transphobia to justify it. experience tells me that you’re the kind of person who also goes around telling trans men&mascs that we “can just be masculine women”, so which is it? can we be masculine and still be women, or is anyone you see as a woman automatically such a feminine one? are your ideas about gender really so regressive that you think you can tell whether or not someone is feminine simply by finding out what genitals they were born with? because i thought we could all at least agree that masculinity isn’t something exclusive to one kind of body.

either way, i know your goal was to upset me, to push me a little closer to detransitioning or killing myself or just living in self-hatred and misery, and you failed at that much. i’m not offended by being called a feminine woman because that’s not a bad thing to be, you’re just wrong and i think you’re an asshole for doing it with the obvious intention of hurting me. you’re only making yourself look bad.

[galamalion]

⚔︎. 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 (𝐢)

summary. you join mizu on her quest for vengeance, discovering more about yourselves on the way towards her ultimate goal.

⤷ contents. mizu x fem!reader, blue eye samurai spoilers, violence, mention of suicide, themes of racism + misogyny, slight slow burn, slight enemies to lovers // wc. 10.6k

⤷ notes. i don't have name for this series yet, i just really wanted to write something for mizu lol idk if i want it to be reverse harem? probably won't see any taigen or akemi x reader, or x mizu for that matter (mizu only has eyes for you <3) anyways i hope you enjoy this story and what's to come!

chapters. [i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii] [viii]

Pure, untouched snow crunched beneath your worn-out sandals as you trudged behind Mizu, choosing each step carefully to avoid shoving your foot deep inside a snowbank and ruining your shoes further than they already had.

The weather hadn’t been great, all things considered. The wind was a tad too harsh, nipping bitterly at your cheeks and nose, letting the falling snow melt into your kimono and dampen the fabric slightly.

Despite your light-hearted complaints, Mizu insisted that you keep walking. Mizu was nothing if not determined to reach your destination in a day, not wanting to waste any more time than you already had. And so you trekked across the white frosted forest, following the hidden path that was completely buried in snow.

“You really think the man you’re looking for will be here?” you asked, side-stepping a thick layer of snow.

Mizu hummed in response.

“And if he’s not here?” you pried.

“Then I’ll find out where he went from here,” she answered curtly, not bothering to turn around.

You sighed, pulling your hanten tight over your chest. In addition to shelter, you’d also like to stop by a town, a busy one, if you were able. Clothes weren’t a necessity—you could walk a couple more miles in your sandals, and your kimono was at least still fairly new. But on account of Mizu’s proclivities, you were in desperate need of more bandages. You still had a few bundles of herbs and plants you picked before the snow fell, but you were fearful those would eventually rot or decay inside your inro.

“Just try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” you sighed, “or at the very least, your bloodshed.”

“I make no promises,” she stated plainly.

You just rolled your eyes.

After a few more minutes of walking, your thin trail ended, leaving you in the midst of a ramshackled town. Mizu continued walking through it, not sparing a glance to anything except for the building that lay straight ahead. A noodle shop, or so the sign said.

You walked ahead of Mizu to get a closer look at the dilapidated building, dodging more snowbanks to reach your goal. As you got closer to the shop, you noticed Mizu had stopped in her tracks, standing still behind you. 

Spinning around to see why she paused, you immediately saw three children, the leader holding a small rock and preparing to throw it at Mizu. She turned her head slightly, not quite looking at the children, only just enough for them to catch a glimpse of her unamused expression.

The children quickly ran back to their homes, dropping their stones as they fled. Mizu resumed her stride, stepping up beside you in front of the store.

You lightly poked Mizu’s shoulder, “Are we here strictly on business, or can I get something to eat?”

Mizu grumbled, fishing some coins out as she slid the door open and stepped through the loose fabric that hung above the entryway.

The two of you made your way to a table in the corner, Mizu obscuring her face with her hat and you keeping your head down. As a woman should, or at least in public. Mizu wanted to keep a fairly low profile, and so you were willing to make at least some sacrifices on her behalf. The slight jabs and insults you received on account of your gender, after all, were nothing compared to the ones Mizu received. 

“Welcome, sir and madam,” a portly young man said, sitting down beside your table, “I'll bring you some tea. It's not good tea, but it's hot, and you're frozen, and I'll bring you a rag because when I'm frozen, my snot drips. Then a nice big soba. We make the best soba. Honest. Bad tea, great soba. Okay?”

Mizu gave a polite nod in response, while you just stared bewildered at the talkative man. You managed to muster out a ‘thank you’, doing your best to put a kind smile on your face.

The man smiled back and rose to his feet, marching jovially back to the kitchen to prepare your tea and noodles. He was stopped at the next table, however, as the scrawny man sitting there jutted his leg out to stop him.

“Stumpy!” the harsh voice crowed, “more noodles, fast.”

The lanky man sneered as the waiter-cook obliged, returning to his station in the back. His upper lip curled as he turned to the two young women next to him.

“I paid your fathers good money for you,” he snidely remarked. “The brоthеls will pay me even more once you get some curve on, you skinny country nothings. Eat!”

Your nose wrinkled at his loathsome behavior. It was the one thing you were never able to stomach, the gross maltreatment of women, like meat being prepared for eating. Mizu’s perceived appearance as a man earned your envy, knowing that she wouldn’t be viewed in the same way you were. But you knew that you both weren’t accepted in the circles you wanted to join, and that just because Mizu looked like a man, didn’t mean she would be accepted with open arms.

The bald young man returned with two bowls of noodles and tea, setting it down gingerly before you. Mizu, suspicious as ever, sniffed before diving into her meal, while you greedily downed the bowl entirely, placing the empty container down before Mizu could finish her last bite.

“It’s good, right?” he grinned, swiping your dirty bowl away from you while you took your cup of tea.

He left your table momentarily to deliver the tray of noodles to the old man, standing before him with the fresh steaming bowls.

“Finally!” he barked, snagging the face of the poor girl sitting closest to him. “Eat up, girls. Eat it all!”

The fearful girl swatted his hand away, causing it to crash and spill one of the bowls of hot noodles across the lap of the old man, who angrily stood up and slapped the poor man.

“What are you, a dog?” he growled, turning to point a finger at the cook who had just run out. “You let a dog serve food!”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, keeping your head down to avoid exploding. If only by his boisterous attitude, you assumed this was the man Mizu had been looking for. All the men Mizu searched for were similar, fitting into two categories: loud and overconfident. There was often overlap between the two.

“F-Forgive my son,” the man laughed nervously, bowing to the furious customer. “Can’t go a day without breaking dishes.”

The cook turned to his son, anger in his voice, “Ringo, clean him!”

“I’m sorry,” Ringo said, attempting to walk towards the man, only to slip on the noodles he had just dropped, causing the tray to drop the other bowl of noodles onto the man’s lap.

You wished you were anywhere else right now.

“Agh!” the old man cried out, reaching for his chest. You were unable to see his movements as his back was towards you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ringo repeated, desperately trying to salvage the situation by picking up the mess below.

The old man’s hand retracted from his chest, pointing straight towards Ringo. The gasps around the room told you what you couldn’t see. And as the room swiftly grew quiet, you could barely make out the weapon grasped in his hand when he shrugged.

“Ah…I should put down this lame dog,” he growled, bringing the gun back up to point at Ringo.

Ringo stared unflinchingly, as if confused by the man’s words, “I’m not a dog,” he said confidently, yet with a twinge of fear present in his voice.

“Did you just bark?” he chuckled darkly. “Do you know who I am? I am Hachiman the Flesh-Trader, and no one messes with Hachi!”

Ah. So it was him. You turned to take in Mizu’s reaction, only to see her staring straight down at the table beneath you. And, in a moment that made you wish you were deaf, Mizu pushed the table forwards, causing a shrill squeak to echo throughout the room as it scraped against the floor., earning the attention of Hachiman.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you hissed under your breath, praying that Mizu wouldn’t be dumb enough to goad the man with a gun. She’d threatened and bribed men for information in the past, some merchants, and some fellow samurai. They could be dangerous, and they often were, refusing to give up the necessary information without a fight. But they hand knives, swords. Not guns.

Mizu stood from the table and slowly strode over to Hachiman, keeping her eyes trained on his gun as she moved to stand in front of him.

“Impressive,” she hummed, taking small steps towards him, “I’ve never seen a gun like it.”

You grabbed the tea kettle and poured some into your cup, taking a deep breath in an attempt to cool your nerves. Mizu had gotten into worse situations before—none involving a gun, of course, but equally as dangerous. Those samurai that refused to give up, those merchants who feared for their lives, they all died like dogs beneath Mizu’s blade. 

‘He’ll be no different,’ you thought, bringing the cup up to your lips. Looking down at your hands, you realized they were shaking ever so slightly. 

She placed her hand on her chin, tilting her head to gaze down the barrel of the gun, “Front loading, not a Japanese pistol,” she remarked, grazing her finger across the weapon. “A European design, isn’t it?”

Remaining silent, you sent a sharp glare towards Mizu, who had not yet disobeyed your one request of her, but was getting real damn close to it. Her eyes flickered towards yours in acknowledgement, although whether it was her trying to tell you that she understood your concerns or her telling you that she had it under control was a mystery. You just assumed the latter.

The other customers fled the building, leaving you as the only patron still inside, although you weren’t exactly eager to stay, not wanting to get caught up in the ensuing firefight. Your eyes darted to Mizu’s hand, noticing her middle and index finger were pointing straight down, which was Mizu’s signal for you to leave.

You rose from the table and quickly walked outside the store, not bothering to look back at the standoff behind you. Mizu could handle herself, especially against a crotchety old pervert like that man. All that was left for you to do was wait, and hope that your patient didn’t get herself killed.

It was spring—not early, though. All the snow had melted and it was beginning to pour into summer, the sun becoming hotter with each passing day. You were out in the woods, a couple paces away from your small town, but not far enough away as to have to worry about bandits. 

You were on a mission to fetch medicinal supplies, both for your own collection as well as for your fellow villagers who had paid you for your efforts. Mixing and making salves and herbal blends was your specialty, and it had earned you a pretty penny. 

On account of being an orphan and lacking family to support, you had to become resourceful. Your former village lacked a structured orphanage, leaving you to wander the underdeveloped streets as a scavenging rat. It was hardly a life, but you made do. Learning that people would pity a poor, starving girl was the greatest weapon in your arsenal, though you knew it could easily lead to your downfall.

Joining a wealthy household would be effortless, but it would come with dreadful and unpredictable consequences. A daughter would only be accepted if there were a son, one you would have to marry once you came of age. Or at least, that was your thought process. Perhaps a family could, would take you in and expect nothing of you. But you were a talentless orphan, one who could give nothing even if nothing was needed of you. 

And so, you left your village, moving in the dead of night along the dirt path in search of a new home.

Your travels brought you to a new, ever so slightly smaller village, and yet there seemed to be more people, more faces. At first you simply watched, trying to get a feel before sinking your teeth into anyone here.

And your patience was rewarded, finding your long-awaited prize.

You’d discovered an old man, a doctor, judging by his customers and conversation you’d picked up. One night you knocked on his door, begging on your knees for a place to stay and promising everything you could give. And so, under the guise of being his doting attendant, you began keeping an eye on his carefully guarded work. Over the years you began assembling your own guide, making improvements upon his recipes and even crafting a few of your own. Once he died—natural causes, of course—you lacked any competition. 

You weren’t allowed to practice medicine, at least not directly, but you were easily able to play into the role of a concerned woman with old recipes generously shared by your master when you were ill. 

And nobody was any wiser, praising you for your teas and ointments and whatever the hell else you managed to conjure up. You could heal sore throats, rejuvenate women’s skin for the pleasure of their suitors and husbands. Who wouldn’t buy from you? 

In the end, you were alive, happily unmarried, and had a stable income. It was the dream of so many young girls, and you were living it.

You’d already collected enough to meet your quota, but you were after your own batch of herbs. It was important to start prepping medicine early, as once the first frost struck, everything would wither and die. But as you discovered a rich cluster beneath a tree, you heard an anguished groan nearby, causing you to whip around.

The sliver of an arm poked out from behind the tree, clearly not wide enough to hide whoever was sitting before it. You took a deep breath and carefully circled around to the other side of the tree, keeping a fair amount of distance between as you looked upon the unknown being.

Lying beneath the tree was a man, one you hadn’t recognized. Most, if not all, of the men in your current village were rather hairy and brutish, whereas the stranger was lithe and clean, a pair of shaded glasses covering their eyes. But what really caught your attention were his obvious wounds, clearly injured from some sort of weapon, though you’d need a closer look to really assess any kind of damage.

“You’re bleeding,” you noted, marching up to the injured man sitting before you.

If he was startled by your presence, he didn’t show it, but perhaps his injuries were making him delirious. His side had a small cut, light bleeding and probably didn’t require stitches. The shoulder, however, was in far worse shape, blood seeping out through his shirt and down to his forearm. You couldn’t know how bad it was until you looked at it, but the man seemed apprehensive.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, pressing a thin piece of torn fabric to his shoulder.

Your head nudged towards the sword at his waist, “You’re a samurai, not a doctor. Let me see it.”

“You’re not a doctor either,” he said, pressing his back further against the tree, and  away from you.

“Well, I’m the closest thing you’re going to get,” you glared at the stubborn man. “Unless you want to let the old bastards in my town drain your blood.”

The stranger glared back, clenching his fists and chewing his cheek in thought. It was a bluff on your end, knowing that not a soul in your village had any kind of medical knowledge. You could feel in your heart that he was a stubborn soul, and he’d certainly bleed out if you tried to bring him back to your town. Or maybe he’d just be chased out, on account of his strange and mysterious getup. 

“Please,” you implored, “I can help.”

He grunted, looking down at the wound on his shoulder, moving a shaking hand up to it before turning his eyes back to you.

“Fine,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth as he pressed on his shoulder. “Just make it quick.”

A deafening shot rang through your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts, but the strident cry that followed it eased your on-edge nerves. It was a garish noise, one that Mizu would never make, especially not in combat. She was more of a grunter.

It was fairly quiet until Mizu came out, another scream echoing behind her as she slammed the door closed.

“Successful?” you asked, trying to gauge her reaction at what had transpired.

“A name,” she responded, walking ahead.

You followed her, a pout forming on your lips, “It’s always another name.”

“This one has a direct connection.”

“So did the last one.”

Mizu didn’t respond, only continuing her determined walk out of the village.

The wind hadn’t let up at all, still blowing snow across your face and freezing the tips of your fingers. But gradually, as you followed Mizu on the path, the wind began to die down, only the snow falling from the sky was left to land on your skin, leaving a tingling feeling as they melted away.

And cold weather aside, the environment that surrounded you was beautiful, from the cliffside view of the water below to the towering bamboo that stood proudly, if only slightly disturbed by the snow and frost that covered it. You took time to marvel at these sights, while Mizu continued to keep her head down, head covered by her conical hat, keeping the snow away without any effort on her part. Perhaps there was more you envied about her than you thought.

Your peaceful journey was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps, though they were still some ways away. Both you and Mizu had turned around, seeing no one in the immediate distance behind you, either. She put a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you behind her as she drew her sword, walking on the path of which you came.

“Stay here,” she whispered, prowling towards the sound.

You shrugged and grasped the knife that was tucked inside of your kimono, watching as Mizu left you alone, though she wasn’t gone for long. Returning with her sword sheathed, Mizu continued walking right past out, resuming the journey.

“Did you find anyone?’ you asked, ever so slightly curious.

“Yes.”

“...Did you kill them?”

“No.”

The lack of explanation in her single word responses clued you in to stop asking questions.

Slowly the bamboo grotto you found yourself in transitioned into small trees, crowded around one another in entangled root systems and branches above. The trees grew sparser and sparser with each step on the path, though they were growing larger, thicker. Soon the trees towered far, far above you, holding up heavy batches of snow with their needles, branches bowing down under the weight of the thick white blanket that coated them.

After another ten-or-so minutes of walking, the two of you encounter a small, decaying temple. It was in better condition than any of the buildings in the village you had come from, standing out among the lonesome path and soaring trees. but it seemed to grab Mizu’s attention, as she began walking up the broad stone steps.

You stopped at the base of the stairs, looking up at her, “Would you like some privacy, Mizu?”

Mizu stopped amidst the stairs, looking down at you below with an expression of pleasant surprise.

“That…would be nice,” she took a few more steps up to the entrance, turning back to you one last time. “Thanks.”

Brushing some snow off your self proclaimed seat, you leaned against one of the short stone pillars, doing your best to find comfort against the rough and uncomfortable material. Mizu shouldn’t be too long, unless she was planning on spending the rest of the day praying for her vengeance. In the past you’d believe that, but you were more in tune with her personality now. 

You’d been traveling without a lead for so long, passing through rain, wind, and snow for days without rest. Name after name after name perpetuated the eternal journey you found yourself on, leading you on a wild, unending chase to find a single man. This was the guidance she needed, a direct path to the man in question, creating a new opening for her to walk upon in search of her goal.

Mizu had finally found the spark to reignite her self-righteous fury, and she was going to let it burn for as long as possible.

“You need to be still, moving can lead to the wound opening,” you hissed, tying off the last bandage.

“It’s my arm that’s injured, not my legs. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen, samurai,” you reached for his hand, “you can’t just—”

Before you could get close to even touching his palm, your wrist was caught tightly within his hand, squeezed uncomfortable as he stared deep into your eyes, past them, into your soul.

His free hand, the injured one, shakily went to his tinted glasses, tilting them down to the tip of his nose, giving you the first real glimpse of what laid behind them.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but no noise would exit your parted lips.

They were blue—not like the sky, they were brighter than that. And yet there was still so much darkness within. He had distinct eyelids, different from everyone you had ever known or seen. And there was beauty in that, but it was a shameful beauty. A beauty that screamed his difference to the world, proclaiming for all to see that he was not like the rest. That a white man had aided in his creation. But to blame a creation for the faults of its creator was a cruel decision, wasn't it?

And yet you could not conceal your shock at his mere existence.

His straightened mouth briefly twitched into a frown before returning back to his cool facade, releasing your wrist and walking away, a hand clutching his shoulder.

“That wound is bound to get infected,” you called out, stomping after the samurai. “And those stitches in your side will need to be removed, not to mention those bandages will need to be changed out with the amount of blood already seeping through them.”

He continued his gait, not bothering to look at you, “I can take care of it.”

“You need me,” you insisted, pacing right behind him. “If you wanted that wound fixed up, you wouldn’t be lying against a tree like you were.”

“I need no maid nor nurse.”

“I have money.”

Although he tried to keep it contained, you could see the way his shoulders tensed up at your words. Or perhaps his injuries were worse than even he thought.

“Let me care for your wounds; I’ll pay for any medicine and accommodations until you’re fixed up. Then we can part ways.”

“Have you nothing better to do?” he pried, a mixture of annoyance and genuine curiosity within his question.

“The only people that require my services here,” you gestured behind you, “are old people knocking on death's door, and women who are constantly pregnant. You are the freshest breath of air I have ever had in my years of living in this shitty village.”

You took a deep inhale before continuing, “Like I said, once we’re done and you’re fully healed, I’ll leave you be. You get a free, temporary doctor, and I get a nice story to tell my future children.”

He stared through you once again, piercing eyes contemplating your offer. From your perspective, at least, it seemed flawless. Doctors were expensive, and as a samurai he clearly lacked any stable income. A free, mobile doctor guaranteed him at least some financial security, although having a companion could potentially lead to unfortunate situations if he were to land himself in danger. Which begged the question: did he have reservations about your safety, or his?

“Fine,” he sighed, head falling in resignation. “But I make the rules, and you’ll stay out of my way.”

He moved to sit on a nearby rock, carefully moving the lower half of his shirt out of the way, giving you access to the injury on his side.

“I can take care of my shoulder later,” he muttered.

You shrugged, moving to inspect and apply your salves.

“Does the samurai have a name?” you questions, dabbing an ointment into his cut.

He growled as it entered his wound, “Mizu,” he hissed, clawing at the boulder beneath him.

“I’m ____,” you said, carefully wrapping bandages around his side. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, master Mizu.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

“Let’s go,” Mizu announced as she hiked down the stairs, joining you at the bottom and continuing the path before you.

“Any specific destination in mind?” you probed, leaning forward to see Mizu’s expression.

“Kyoto,” she answered, face unchanging. Truly an envy to statues everywhere.

“You said you got a name from that old geezer, so what are we looking for? A place, a person, a thing…”

“I’m looking for a man.”

“So, nothing new,” you sighed, tucking your icy hands inside your hanten.

The walk wasn’t much longer, the constant crunching of snow beneath your feet filling the void of silence between you two, though its calming effect soon dissipated, leaving you annoyed with each step until you reached Kyoto.

Soon enough you were standing in line before the towering gate, guards standing in front and above the entrance. You’d never been to any kind of central hub before you met Mizu, only knowing less than a hundred people, and that’s after combing from the two villages you’ve lived in. One thing you did know, however, was that women weren’t allowed to enter without an escort. Women in your village would complain about it whenever they had to go out and sell their goods and products, though you never had to leave for your business. Perks of being a monopolist, you supposed.

“Don’t speak,” Mizu leaned into your ear, voice a hush whisper. “Stay behind me, and stay close.”

“Not my first city entering with you, Mizu,” you shot back, folding your hands in your sleeves. 

“Next!” the front guard called out, beckoning the next person forward.

A woman and her child stepped forward, showing their travel pass to the guard who sneered at it.

“This travel pass is invalid,” he declared.

You peeked over Mizu’s shoulder to get a better view at the situation taking place.

“My husband is dead. I made the baskets, he only sold them,” the woman begged, “please, or I can’t feed my children.”

The guard rolled his eyes, “You know the rules. Women can’t travel without a chaperone.”

‘Barbaric,’ you thought, sinking your nails into your forearms. Stupid rules written by stupid men. How lucky you were to have a chaperone on this trip.

“Next!” he shouted, not giving the sobbing woman another glance.

Mizu stepped forward and you followed closely behind, keeping your head down to conceal your rage.

“Travel pass,” he said boredly, his eyes briefly flickering to your form before looking back at Mizu.

Reaching into her clothing, Mizu withdrew a couple of coins, flashing the glimmering pieces to the guard who eagerly swiped them up, looking at the next people in line.

You shared a quick look with the daughter who was comforting her distraught mother, wishing there was something you could do to help. Looking up at Mizu, you saw her also gazing at the child with far less emotion on her face. Only a second had passed before Mizu looked away, marching her way past the gate and into the city, leaving you to catch up.

“Are we really not going to help her?” you blurted out as you followed Mizu through the busy streets.

If Mizu heard you, she didn’t respond, just looking at the tall snow-covered buildings lining the streets, colorful banners adorning detailed walls.

“Mizu—”

“There was nothing I could do, ____,” she scolded, turning back to look at you. “It would have caused more trouble than it was worth. I can’t afford to bring two more girls into the city, and there was no way anyone there would have left me.”

You exhaled shakily, clenching your fists and taking deep breaths in order to calm down.

“It’s just not fair,” you muttered, looking down at your feet.

Mizu sighed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, “I promise I will try to do something for them.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing your head up to look at her face, those kind and thoughtful eyes hiding behind her glasses.

She stepped away briefly, attempting to approach strangers for directions with little results. It almost caused you to feel embarrassed for her unfruitful efforts, if not for the three horses barreling straight towards her.

“Mizu, watch out!” you shouted as Mizu caught sight of the incoming horses, shooting backwards in response.

“Watch it, asshole!” the lead rider yelled, pulling on the reins of his horse.

You ran up beside Mizu, glaring at the pompous man. Mizu stuck and arm out in front of you, a silent message to contain your anger, lest you get the both of you in trouble.

“Apologies,” Mizu said, mouth pressed into a straight line, “I’m looking for something, but Kyoto is quite large. Do you know where I could find the Shindo Dojo?”

“Shindo?” the man to his left scoffed, peering down at the two of you. “That’s our dojo, and you think you’re going to apply?”

The man to his right laughed, “You look like a blind beggar!” He took his riding crop and slapped Mizu’s glasses off.

All three chuckled, pleased with their actions, one nodding his head at you.

“Are you really traveling with this guy, lady?” He extended his hand to you. “Hop on and I’ll take you for a real ride.”

Your lip curled in thinly veiled disgust, “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m quite pleased with my current situation.”

Mizu let out a long sigh, putting on a smile, “If you would please show me how to find your dojo, I would be grateful.”

“Sure,” the left man said, “follow the road to the shrine. Once you go around the gates, you'll see the sign across the puppet show.”

“Good luck!” they called back, laughing as they rode. You spit on the ground they had been as their horses galloped away.

Wiping off the snow that had been kicked up onto her shoulder, Mizu began to follow the directions given to her, leaving you to do most of the talking, as per usual.

“Bastards,” you growled, “pissants, the lot of them.”

“Calm down,” Mizu ordered, searching for your destination.

“Calm down? Calm down? Those cocky dickheads deserve every misfortune they come across.”

“Keep your eye out for a puppet show.”

“And the way he thought I’d just crumple to my knees and get on his stupid horse! Can you believe that?”

“Around the gates…”

“Not even mentioning the way they treated you, as if you couldn’t kick their asses with one arm tied behind your back. Shindo Dojo my ass.”

“There are consequences for attacking without consent of a duel first, and the last thing I want to do is be sent to prison for something as foolish as defending my honor,” Mizu said, turning the corner.

“Would you defend my honor?” you smiled, waiting for an answer.

“No.”

Well, it was an answer, at least.

The bustling city around you left no room for conversation, only the need to dodge passersby and merchants attempting to sell you goods that you had no use for. As you walked further and further into the city, the traders trickled away, only peeping men lined the streets now, peering inside the countless brothels.

“Why would a dojo be in a red light district?” you pondered aloud, trying your best to not make eye contact.

“For once,” Mizu answered, nose scrunched up, “we’re having similar thoughts…”

Your destination was only a few buildings down, and judging by the lewd ongoings within, was certainly not the Shindo Dojo.

“You two look lost,” a sultry voice cooed, arms stretching out to grab you and Mizu.

Standing in front of the brothel were two very dressed up women, crimson dusting their cheeks, matching the vibrant red that decorated their lips and eyes.

“We were just leaving,” you asserted, shaking out of their hold.

The woman laughed, going over to hug Mizu’s arm, “Why don’t you come inside, lost boy? Rest a while…with us.”

You found it difficult to conceal your revulsion, not eager to picture Mizu having relations while you had to wait in the other room. Though judging from Mizu’s shocked face, she didn’t seem too fond of the idea either.

“I’m looking for the Shindo Dojo—” she began, quickly interrupted by an old man being thrown out of the brothel. A naked, old man.

“Which, I can see…” Mizu grimaced, “this is not.”

“You think?” you snorted, earning a dirty look from Mizu.

“It’s better,” the shorter prostitute said, smiling. “It's the Shindo House. If it’s sword skills you’re wanting to show off, you can do it here.”

The taller prostitute grinned, “We can polish up the tip for you…”

A shudder went down your spine at the sight of their flirtations, giving you the strength needed to put an end to this conversation.

“We’re terribly busy, and have urgent business at the Shindo Dojo,” you insisted, trying to pull Mizu away from the women.

“Oh, are you sure, little pearl? If you wanted to join in, all you had to do was ask. Jealousy is a painful vice,” the tall one purred, snaking her arm around your shoulder. “And there’s no fee for adding a third…unpaid party.”

You could feel the heat flooding to your face, unable to even sputter in response to her offer.

A hand suddenly struck out between you and the woman, grabbing her wrist and gently removing it from your shoulder. Mizu glared at the woman, watching coldly as she shrunk away from you.

“You’re serious, huh?” the short woman smirked, nudging her coworker to step away from you. “Alright, love birds. Walk east to the Kamo River. Take the bridge to the temple with the thousand creepy statues. It's on the hill just past.”

Mizu’s head swiftly dipped into a bow, not looking up at you.

“I wish you a successful day of business,” she muttered, covering her face with her hand as she began raising her head up.

Interrupting her bow, however, was a loud crash from the puppet stand behind you. Looking at the show, or rather, what remained of it, revealed a portly young man standing above the wreckage. The same young man from the noodle shop.

“Hey, Mizu, isn’t that—”

“How much for one night?” she quickly asked, noting the price given to her.

“...How much for three.”

.

.

.

“Mizu,” you began, “would that man, by chance, be the person following us on our way here?”

“I didn’t think he’d get out of those ropes,” she groaned, walking across the expansive bridge.

“You tied him up?” you gawked, staring in shock at her nonchalant attitude.

“I could have killed him,” she pointed out, bringing a hand up to crack her neck. “I was merciful; he would have disrupted my quest.”

“And I don’t?”

“You provide a service.”

“Don’t make me sound like your pocket prostitute,” you half-heartedly teased.

Mizu sputtered, her collected facade briefly crumbling after hearing your words.

“I—ahm, hadn’t meant to imply—”

“Make way for Princess Akemi!” a voice rang out some distance behind you.

Traveling down the bridge from where you had just come was a gold accented palanquin being carried by an assortment of attendants. Those walking alongside you quickly made their way to the sides of the bridge, bowing before the royalty before them.

A tug on your sleeve by Mizu pulled you out of the way, standing beside her as the palanquin passed by you. Through the bars of the carrier you could see its passenger, the Princess Akemi, or so they announced. Perhaps you could have quipped about her status, the fact that she probably looked down on everyone around her. Or maybe her vanity, refusing to use her own feet to walk anywhere, relying on servants to carry her to and fro.

But a single glimpse of her face left you wordless—breathless. The makeup she wore only enhanced her best features, though it looked like all her features were her best. One look at Mizu confirmed you felt the same, her lips parting slightly as the palanquin continued down the bridge.

“She’s awfully pretty,” you sighed wistfully, watching the palanquin disappear into the city.

Mizu cleared her throat, regaining her wits, “Beautiful women can be found everywhere. It is our status that defines our beauty to the world.���

“It’s alright, Mizu,” you shrugged, “jealousy is a normal emotion, even for samurai.”

“I am not jealous,” she swiftly defended herself.

“Denial is an even worse look,” you sang, following her along the final stretch of bridge as you made your way up to the dojo.

It stood atop a hill just above the city, a single lone temple amidst a barren field it was laid upon. A lonely dojo, in your opinion, although the path to it was rather serene.

“If I have to walk up any more stairs, Mizu,” you groaned, approaching the temple, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Air your grievances now, then.” she curtly replied, moving to hit the door knockers. “Walking is only a small part of this journey.”

“Then why is it all we do?” you muttered, crossing your arms.

A small slit opened after a couple seconds, revealing the judgemental eyes of a man.

“No new students, find another school,” he barked, shutting the opening.

“Pretentious, aren’t they?” you snickered.

Mizu rolled her eyes and banged on the door again, the man appearing quickly.

“I’m not a student,” she said, annoyed, “but I do bring a message for the master of this place.”

The opening shut, only for one at the bottom to reveal itself, a hand sticking out expectantly.

“I must deliver it personally,” Mizu muttered, eyes narrowing.

The man vanished from the slit, shutting it behind him. Only a few moments passed between you and Mizu before the grand entrance began to slowly open, revealing the incredibly vast courtyard to you.

Mizu began walking forward to join the sentry, only for him to raise a hand towards you.

“Women are forbidden from entering the dojo,” he said solemnly, taking up a cold expression as he refused you entry.

You tightened your shoulders, standing straight and giving the man your best smile, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Oh, sir, I must beseech you,” you pleaded, running up and clinging to his robes. “For he is my husband, and I would loathe to separate from him even for a single second! I fear what may happen to me if he were to disappear from my sight, for he is my protector, and I his perfect blossom. That is why I beg you, do not allow us to be apart!”

The sentry turned to Mizu for a response, raising an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat and you could immediately tell she would be giving you a dirty look if she had not been so surprised by your improvisation.

“...Yes, I would be most pleased if my wife were to accompany me. She is rather…frail and weak, and it would break my heart if anything were to happen to my…wife…” she said, her less than convincing acting leaning heavily on your own performance.

“Fine,” he grimaced, peeling you off. “But you are not permitted to speak in this place, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

You smiled in response, walking over to join your ‘husband,’ looping your arm into his beneath his shawl, smirking internally at her pink-dusted face.

Arm in arm you walked up to the main room of the dojo, passing by different groups of men training. You could tell that Mizu was alert, noting each and every person you passed on your way to meet the head.

Upon entering the sweeping room, you kneeled beside Mizu, keeping your head bowed so as to not cause any disturbance during her negotiations. Though the man in front of you seemed unconcerned with your behavior, if interested in you at all.

“You may leave any message with me,” he spoke, not pausing his calligraphy.

“What must be said must be said to the master directly,” Mizu pressed.

“I assure you, what is for the master is for me,” he continued, “as I assure you the master does not meet with messengers.”

“He will for me.”

Her blatant disrespect caused the man to pause, setting his brush down and looking directly at her.

“​​You stand before the Shindo School.” He stood from his table. “For 200 years, we have taught here the Shindo-Ryu, secret methods passed down from Priest Soto, taught to him on the peak of Mount Kurama by the mystic Tengu themselves,” he snarled. “Show your respect!”

Mizu continued to stare at the floor, unaffected by the man’s long speech.

 “I must insist,” she said.

The man’s mouth pressed into a thin line, looking at the samurai standing behind you both.

“Escort them anywhere you please that is far from here,” he ordered.

One man, a part of the group that harassed you when you arrived in Kyoto, stepped forward and reached an arm out, “Come on, you blind beggar.”

“You are bound by hospitality to feed a traveler within your gate,” Mizu said hurriedly. “My wife and I came very far, and we’re very hungry. Or has the Shindo Dojo done away with etiquette?”

His lip curled in annoyance at Mizu’s demands, “Feed them,” he sneered, “then throw them out.

The samurai surged for your arms, dragging you down hallways and into a cramped storage room with a single barred window.

“Eat,” one said, chucking a bowl of rice (if you could even call it that) onto the small table, “then take your whore and get out.”

They laughed heartily at their insults, taking their leave and slamming the door shut behind them, leaving you and Mizu alone.

You chose to sit on top of a barrel while you waited, observing Mizu’s face as she watched the training going on outside, a tiny smile finding its way on her lips.

“Daydream all you want,” you spoke up, “but you’re the one who’s gonna have to come up with a plan.”

She broke away from her view, turning to look at you with a glint in her eye.

“I already have one.”

.

.

.

“Move it, you two,” the samurai ushered, pushing you forward as you walked through the turning halls.

Mizu stopped in her tracks, remaining still despite their threats.

“This will be much simpler if you allow me to speak with your master,” she said slowly, not bothering to look at them.

“Mizu,” you hissed, “don’t make this any more difficult.”

“You heard your wife, beggar boy. No one sees the master, least of all you.”

One stretched their hand out, aiming to grab your shoulder, only for Mizu to step in between the two of you.

“I cannot leave here until I speak to the master of this dojo,” she pressed as he attempted to dislodge her, unable to do so.

“Oh, good,” the men chuckled, drawing their swords. “We get to kill you.”

Mizu’s fingers extended, pointing her middle and index downwards. You smiled, giving a polite bow before continuing the path out of the dojo, arriving at the entrance to the main room. Stepping out into the thin snow and leaning against a pillar, you removed your inro, unpacking the supplies you might need after Mizu’s activities.

You could hear the events going on inside, a mixture of yelling and screaming, of rage and pain brewing within the fighters. Not a peep from Mizu, however. Soon enough, the old samurai from earlier—perhaps he was second in command, though you didn’t exactly care—came running outside, nose bleeding and with a nasty mark spanning diagonally across his face. It seemed that Mizu was getting excited.

“See you later, samurai,” you cooed as he sprinted out of the dojo and through the gates, leaving you alone to laugh at his cowardice.

You hadn’t expected him to return, however.

Entering through the wide open gates, followed by the older man, was a much younger one. He wore a green kimono decorated with the symbol of the dojo, hair tied back into a tall bun with stray pieces framing his face.

“You come to fight, pretty boy?” you teased as he approached, still fiddling with your supplies.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow at your words, “You? I was told—”

“Inside, dumbass. Does it look like I’m a warrior?” you sneered, rejoining your inro to your obi.

The old man’s eyes widened at your disrespect, “How dare you, a woman—!”

“You got your ass kicked by some country boy. Come back and correct my attitude after you’ve killed him, you shitty old man.”

It seemed impossible for his eyes to get even bigger, but after your words they seemed to be the size of plates.

He attempted to march up to you, only to be stopped by the young man.

“We can deal with this after the samurai is dealt with,” he reasoned, giving you a dirty look.

You laughed to yourself as they entered the dojo, leaving you alone outside once again.

The familiar sounds of fighting broke out shortly after the man’s entrance, joined in harmony by the harsh sounds of breaking wood, undoubtedly caused by Mizu’s quirk of using the environment around her to fight. It was fun to watch, until you had to pay the bill for a duel inside an inn. 

Eventually, the noises began to grow louder—no, closer. You caught a glimpse of the chaotic symphony as Mizu and her enemy, the young man from before, fought their way into the main room. Before you could even blink, Mizu had been thrown across the room, a wooden sword hurled right at her. 

“With a naked blade,” he scoffed, “you’d be dead.”

You immediately stood up and ran towards her, picking up her fallen glasses as you made your way over. She brushed you aside, however, turning her neck to look at the young man, not bothering to shield her eyes. 

A small gasp left him, his cocky demeanor quickly vanishing the moment he laid saw her.

“You had a name for me,” she stated, rising to her feet.

“Taigen, you cannot allow that to dishonor us or you,” the old man commanded, fuming at Mizu. “Kill him.”

The battle quickly changed to a formal duel as the two young samurai made their way outside to take the other’s life. You followed Mizu, standing a fair distance behind her to give her space to butcher the man. Taigen, or so he was called.

He drew his weapon first, discarding the sheath onto the fresh snow below and pointing it directly at Mizu.

“Are you afraid to fight with steel?” he asked, brows furrowed in determination.

You snorted at his comment.

Mizu just chuckled softly, “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “No one has yet deserved my blade.”

She slowly removed her sword from her sheath, drawing the magnificently crafted blade and wielding it with two hands, taking a stance before Taigen.

“You have a blade by Master Eiji?” he gawked, only serving to change Mizu’s smile to a snide grin.

A tense moment was shared between the two, and all you could do was stand by and watch. You knew Mizu was smart, least of all capable. She wouldn’t throw her life away in some stupid duel, not when she still hadn’t gotten her revenge. This was just a simple stop on the way, something to remind her of what was at stake.

Mizu wouldn’t lose, not here.

Taigen was first to act, running up to Mizu with his sword at his side, prepared to strike. She reacted unusually, however, breaking in a crouch and swinging her sword at the ground, kicking up a flurry of snow. Taigen hardly faltered, only spinning around to avoid blinding himself and swung his sword across to hit Mizu. His maneuver was a short-lived victory, as Mizu ran her sword beneath him, the blades moving across one another and letting sparks fly. 

Mizu had made the first wound, slicing a shallow cut into Taigen’s neck, crimson drops of blood blotting the pure white snow beneath them.

The next strikes were harsh, as Taigen hadn’t so much as flinched at his injury, striking with the same vigor he had before. Despite Mizu’s skills, Taigen found a hole in her defense, using his strength to his advantage to press his sword into her shoulder and throw her to the ground, knocking her blade away.

You felt your body grow cold as Taigen stomped over to Mizu, angling his sword to her neck. Was it really going to end like this? All that traveling, killing, and plotting, just for Mizu to die at the hand of some low life samurai?

“Death comes for everyone,” Taigen spat, bringing the blade closer to her. “For you, today.”

He turned around and gave a nod to his fellow samurai behind him, giving Mizu one final look before sending a hard kick into her chest as a final blow to her and her ego.

You attempted to rush to her side, only to receive a scowl from Mizu, stopping you in your tracks. From your current viewpoint, she looked relatively uninjured, at least nothing terribly deep. She was clutching her shoulder, but the cut looked shallow. The doctor inside begged you to ignore her scornful face and help her, to put your work to good use, though you knew her anger would be twofold what it was if you were to intervene.

You watched intently as she brushed a fistful of snow across her face and swept her lingering strand of hair out of the way, those sapphire eyes shining with anger as they shot open.

She reached for her arms, pulling a string and releasing the weights that had been wrapped around her forearms. Repeating the action to the other arm, as well as her ankles, Mizu made eye contact with Taigen who turned around to witness her revitalization.

Reaching for her sword with lightning fast reflexes, she charged towards Taigen and side-stepped his attack, disarming him without a second thought and dealing a brutal slice to his calf. Disoriented and in pain, Taigen was easily lifted and tossed, skidding across the snow and meeting the edge of Mizu’s blade.

The two were panting heavily from exhaustion, whereas you were releasing a breath you’d been holding for the past minute. Mizu had bested her opponent and lived, earning you another day of employment.

“Stop!” a strong voice bellowed, their cry echoing across the courtyard of the dojo.

Your eyes darted to the new figure, one dressed more elegantly than his fellow samurai, a dark kataginu worn over top of his burnt orange kimono.

Mizu joined you in gazing at the man, still out of breath, “You, are the master of this school?” she panted.

He gave an affirmative hum.

“Your students need better training,” she quipped, withdrawing her blade from Taigen’s throat.

“You have a message for me,” he said, the command of a leader in his voice.

“A question,” she corrected, putting strong emphasis on her next words. “Where may I find your brother, the black market merchant Heiji Shindo?”

You felt your eyes go wide at her words, unknowing of her plan during your travels to Kyoto. All this? Just for the name of another man? You had to clench your teeth in order to stop yourself from interrupting their conversation.

The man was just as shocked as you, a myriad of expressions moving across his face all at once, finally arriving to dwell in his voice as he spoke, “You did all this to find my brother? Why?”

Mizu’s blade returned to Taigen’s throat, a silent threat to prevent any more prying questions.

Clearing his throat, he answered with an air of mustered strength, “Heiji Shindo is in the fortress on Tanabe Island, protected by the Genken Clan,” he said, beginning to narrow his eyes. “Whatever business you have with him, you will never reach him.”

Without another word, Mizu sheathed her sword and gave a mockingly polite bow to the head before walking to your side. 

“You're still…a dog.” Taigen groaned, attempting to gain his bearings from the ground.

Helpless and unwilling to stop Mizu’s righteous anger, you simply watched as she whipped around and slid across the ground, not even bothering to unsheath her sword for an unworthy opponent such as Taigen. The blade made its purchase, swinging just inches above his head and decapitating his top knot with the talent and skill of an unrivaled barber.

His golden hairpiece clattered to the earth, softened by the lingering snow it landed upon. Mizu scooped it up and tucked it into her shirt, continuing her pace without sparing a look towards the countless wounded samurai behind her.

The glimmering hairpiece was tossed into your hands as Mizu walked past you, stepping past the towering gates with you in tow, finally making your exit from the dojo she had undoubtedly made a fool of.

.

.

.

“Heiji Shindo, huh?” you said, breaking the silence as you both descended the path down the hill. “Can we buy horses this time around?”

“No,” she immediately responded, “we need to be careful, at least while leaving this city. I have made enemies of many men here.”

“Well, I’m assuming you’ve fully removed their ability to ride a horse, though I don’t really care to hear how you did it…” you trailed off, trying your best to not imagine the horrors Mizu inflicted on those pitiable samurai. “Could we buy horses in the next city? We’ll be farther by then, putting more distance if there are people after us.”

“If you can afford it, then we can buy two. Until then, we walk.”

“Two? Why, my dear husband, we only need to buy one!” you sang, reveling in the way Mizu’s body briefly froze up at the intimate word. “Unless you want your useless, obedient wife to ride alone.”

“...I have no comment for your unending teasing,” she finally replied, crossing her arms.

“If you want to see teasing, you should turn around.” You finished securing her conical hat to your head, tying the last knot just as Mizu turned around to see you, letting you see the newly-formed pout on her rosy face as she saw you in her hat.

“Enough,” she ordered, stopping in front of you to reclaim her headgear, standing at least two heads above you.

“I think it suits me,” you whined while copying her pout, unable to stop her from reclaiming her hat.

She adjusted her hat and quickly tied it beneath her chin, continuing the walk through the cold, empty streets of Kyoto. The wind had kicked up since your time at the dojo, blowing harshly through the streets and depositing snow onto the roofs above. It made you wish you held onto Mizu’s hat for just a little longer, if only to escape the snow falling into your hair.

The gates at the front of the city opened for your exit, letting you step out onto the path leading into the forest. You stopped, however, noticing the mother and daughter from earlier, from when you first arrived in Kyoto. They were freezing, icy puffs of air pulled from their lips as they huddled close together for warmth. Your heart tugged towards them, clenching your fists in a moment of helplessness. The hairpiece gently pricked the walm of your hand as you squeezed, and you reopened it, looking at the expensive decoration and dropping it near their huddled forms.

You did your best to remain quiet as you walked away and down the path, into the sparse woods alongside Mizu. The trees did not grow in number as you walked, only growing in age, becoming thicker and taller, framing the night sky above. Mizu stopped in the middle of a clearing, causing you to stop behind her, trying to give her some space. You could tell she was looking up to the cloudy sky, and although you could hear her mumbling, you couldn’t catch the words in full.

You were, however, able to catch the familiar red droplets of blood that landed and melted into the snow below, reminding you of Mizu’s forgotten shoulder wound.

“You couldn’t have reminded me?” you hissed, stomping over and throwing her arm across your shoulder, which she brushed off.

“It’s my arm, not my leg,” she reasoned.

“If you didn’t want me to play doctor, you shouldn’t have brought me.”

“You brought yourself,” she snorted, turning her head in a different direction. “There’s a hot spring that way, you can ‘play doctor’ when we get there.”

You rolled your eyes, following her as you made your way to the hot spring. It was more impressive than you thought, multiple spouts of water differing in intensity spilling into the warm pool below, life barely blooming amidst the freezing conditions surrounding it.

Mizu began removing her accessories while you removed your inro, gathering your needed supplies to care for her wound.

“You need help with your bandages?” you asked, gesturing to her chest.

“I’ve got it,” she said, giving one last look around before letting her hair down.

She slowly removed her clothes, unwinding the bandages that bound her chest tightly. You did your best not to look, giving her much needed privacy as you began to undress yourself, folding your kimono nicely and resting your inro on top.

“Mind if I take a look at it, Mizu?” you politely requested, sinking your body into the warm spring. 

Mizu hummed, joining you into the water. Her body wasn’t entirely covered by the water from where she was standing—as well as her height, leaving her to stand awkwardly as you inspected her wound. It was both worse than you thought and better than you expected, long but not deep. The wrapping would be awkward, but infection wouldn’t be a worry, especially after this short bath.

It took all the strength you had to keep your eyes trained on her upper chest, though, luckily, her lower chest was being covered by her arms. Her very strong arms, that is. Her whole body was a surprising wonder, no doubt in part due to her constant wearing of those weights. She was able to throw Taigen a fair distance, she could probably pick you up with no problem. No problem at all…

“...You alright down there?” Mizu interrupted your thoughts, and immediately you could feel your face heating up.

“Yeah, ah—I can take care of it afterwards, just try and clean it out a little bit,” you stammered, moving further into the water.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment more before she moved closer to one of the low water falls, climbing atop the stone beneath for some brief meditation.

You spent your alone time cleaning up, rubbing off any dirt and deep cleaning your hair, the buildup of grease and who knows what else disappearing into the water below, leaving you to grab your needle and thread from your inro.

“I’m ready when you are, Mizu,” you called out, waving your needle for her to see.

She begrudgingly moved to the side by you, biting her lip as you gently applied the stinging ointment to her wound. You’d done this song and dance with her before, and as time went on Mizu had grown used to the bite of your medicine, her howls and cries dying with each new injury.

“Need something to bite on?” you asked before continuing your work.

“I’ll be fine,” she exhaled, shutting her eyes tight.

And so you began, weaving the needle in and out of her wound, carefully pulling it closed and tying the string off.

“Alright, good as new” you muttered, cutting the string. “Don’t touch, don’t scratch, don’t—”

“Not our first time, I know the drill,” she chuckled.

“Well, feel free to relax now,” you sighed, slouching down into the water and shutting your eyes in bliss. 

You enjoyed the time you had in the spring before leaving, reveling in the brief relaxation. Your eyes remained shut while you laid down, hearing her eventually join you in laying down. 

Loud footsteps caused your eyes to shoot open, and you saw that Mizu had already risen from the water, rushing to the ground and grabbing her sword. You scrambled for your kimono, searching for the small dagger tucked on the inside, planning to defend yourself, or worse if the situation called for it.

The figure stumbled through the shadows and into the clearing, meeting Mizu head on and shrieking loudly. You peaked from the spring, seeing Mizu pointing her blade and Ringo, the noodle maker’s son from long ago. He tilted his head, staring with wide eyes at Mizu and finally landing on your frightened expression.

“...Peaches?”

The dojo master prostrated himself before the man seated in the opulent chair, the dimly lit room illuminated only by the moonlit and roaring fireplace.

“Forgive me for giving your location, my brother. He was unstoppable,” he apologized, slowly rising into an upward kneel as his voice began to trail off. “He defeated my every student…” 

The man released a displeased hum, “Your students need better training,” he sneered, turning his head to the old face that walked in.

“The samurai, he's not human,” the old man—Hachiman—said, a mix of fury and bewilderment crossing his face as he recollected. “I saw its eyes.”

“A lone samurai, then?” the man asked, flickering his gaze between the two men before him.

“He had a companion,” the brother spoke, raising his head. “She had no weapon nor joined his fighting.”

The man scoffed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, “So, a lone samurai with a useless woman.”

“The Four Fangs,” a rich, yet rough, accented voice spoke up, clearly bored by the conversation taking place right next to him. “Send the Four Fangs after this samurai and his girl.”

He grabbed an apple and twirled in between his fingers, “Double their price and be done with it.”

A sickening grin formed on the man’s face as he took in his companion’s words, rising from his chair as he left to distribute orders.

Alone in the room, the Irishman stared at his reflection in the apple, tilting his head as he questioned aloud.

“I wonder, lonesome samurai,” he cooed, taking a bite of the fruit, “why carry a whore ‘round with you when you have so much to lose?”

He tossed the unfinished remains of the apple behind him, turning his head to the window beside him.

“Ah, who gives a shit,” he laughed, snatching another apple. “They’ll both die anyways.”

[thegreatpapaya666]

I'M COMING OUT (a third time) I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW I GOT TO SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING (i forgot the words to the song lmao i heard it in trolls that one time)

hewwo bestie boos

so first i was like "hey y'all i'm pansexual yippee" and that was super fun

but then i got a bf and i was like "fuck this shit" and after a whole bunch of mental breakdances and introspection shit i was like "i'm pansexual and aromantic" so slay

and it was nice because when you're in the Gay Neurodivergent Theater Kid Friend Group™ when you tell your besties how gay you are all they do is laugh and make you a pride pin and doodle you doing shit corresponding to your sexuality (for instance when my bestie came out as ace we drew him throwing garlic bread at some badly drawn dicks it was a whole thing lol) and nobody really gives a shit besides for using the correct pronouns and lovingly making fun of your sexuality

but then i had even more mental breakdances and introspection shit and i was like "wtf??? i thought i maxxed out my gayness" (gay is an umbrella term here) and then i realized i'm ace. but then i was sorta kinda cornfuzzled (that means confused in papaya lingo) bc like how can i be aroace and pan? huh? and then i kept on thinking:

i experience some romantic attraction.

i experience some sexual attraction.

and when i do experience that (however rare it is), it can be for anybody regardless of gender.

so my bestie told me about oriented aroace where you're completely aro and completely ace and you feel the other kinds of attraction that aren't romantic or sexual toward a certain gender and feel like that fits your identity (feel free to correct me on any of this i suck at explaining things and i may have interpreted this badly)

and then there's also angled aroace which is basically the same thing except for aro-spec and ace-spec rather than 100% no romantic & sexual attraction

but my bestie also said that the dude who coined the term "oriented aroace" was sorta kinda gatekeeping and they didn't want grey aroaces invading their term and they weren't "real" aroaces or something whatever and it was super dumb and icky and I don't fully understand it

in conclusion: i think i like pan angled aroace! so I'm using that term now!

however, a lot of people really don't know what that term means. so i don't really know what to tell them cause i suck even more at explaining things irl than online. and i also don't know how to come out to my parents. but i also hate my mom so maybe she doesn't deserve to know. welp that's a conversation for another day.

so thanks for listening and bye bestiesssss <333

edit: i edited the title bc i forgot how to spell for a lil bit :c

[moongothic]

Seen quite a few people comment how they believe it's more likely the Dragodile Divorce happened due to ideological differences rather than because Dragon was too straight to stay with Crocodile, and. Like I did suggest that (or at least tried to) in my Crocodad Giga Thesis (really I should've been more clear about it in my essay so I wouldn't be writing this now lol), but like yes, Dragon and Crocodile absolutely have drastically different beliefs on How One Overthrows The World Government. And that absolutely could have contributed to the two separating and/or Crocodile deciding to go his own way instead of becoming a proper Revolutionary

Because like, as I tried to imply in the essay (but failed to deliver); if Crocodile's goal had always been to get Pluton so he could just nuke Marijoa off the face of the earth by himself and end it all in one go, then Crocodile and his way of thinking could work as this, like... contrasting opposite to how Dragon believes things should be done. Some fans (unfairly imo) call Dragon a "fraud" because over the past 20+ years he has only attacked Marijoa and the WG directly just once, and even when he did, instead of doing something to stop their corrupt reign for good... the Revs destroyed... the Tenryuubito's... food storage..? Like. Sure, that'll bother them for a little while, get their panties in a good twist etc, but in the end they're just going to demand more tributes and more free food. The Revolutionary Army may be successfully inspiring more people and more countries to rebel against the World Government's corrupt rule, but the Tenryuubito are still in power and will continue to be in power for a long time. And that's kind of how Crocodile would greatly complement Dragon within the narrative. Dragon being arguably "too soft" with his slow, methodical way of overthrowing the WG, while Crocodile would just kill them all without mercy, even if it meant hurting innocent people in the process. The two would act as the opposite sides of the same coin, the different extremes of the same spectrum. Crocodile would become like a response to the complaints people have against Dragon.

And yeah, the two having such wildly different ideological views could VERY EASILY contribute to a divorce, for sure.

My thing is that... If (and this is an if) Crocodile is meant to go a character arc and grow as a person, if we're meant to see him as a sympathetic character at all and maybe even feel bad for him... It'll be much harder to write that if the Dragodile Divorce happened only because of the two having ideological differences. Like who's going to feel bad for Crocodile if the two got divorced because Crocodile wanted to mass murder people and Dragon wasn't okay with it? That's not a tragedy, that's not a situation where we as the readers would feel for Crocodile and want to root for him. That's not something that would give a character unprocessed emotional trauma to heal from and overcome. He'd just be a villian who'd need to have his beliefs changed.

Where as, if The Divorce was caused by Dragon and Crocodile no longer being compatible due to Dragon being straight while Crocodile transed his gender... Even in the most respectful of scenarios that is a heartbreaking situation, a painful thing to go through. That is a tragedy without bad guys, a story where you could feel bad for Crocodile and want to root for him. That is a situation that would give him trauma to heal from.

And that's kind of why I so strongly believe in Crocodile's transition being a more important, contributing factor in The Divorce. Again, this does absolutely depend on what Crocodile's actual role in the story is going to be and whether or not he's even meant to go through a character arc at all. Like if he's not going to be that important and if he isn't meant to go through an arc then sure, Crocodile's transition doesn't have to matter one fucking bit. But if he is meant to go through an arc, if we are meant to feel bad for him and find outselves rooting for him eventually... From a writing perspective, that'll be far easier to do if we can find ourselves sympathizing with him even just a little bit.

Also like. Yes, you can have queer characters who are just queer for the sake of being queer, their queerness does not have to be an important aspect in them or a huge plotpoint in their story at all. Crocodile could be queer just for the sake of being queer. Because that's what it's like being queer, you just are what you are. At the same time, from a writing perspective. What would even be the point of making him queer if it didn't matter to his character at all and have an impact on his character?

Also while Crocodile and Dragon clearly have very different beliefs on how the WG should be dealt with right now, we don't really know when Crocodile came to his beliefs. Like for all we know Crocodile could've formed his worldview years after the divorce. Hell, based on the way he spoke to Vivi about her ideals, and how we know he spent over a decade in utter emotional solitude, his current worldview could have been partially born from resentment towards Dragon (and his ideals) that's been simmering away over the years.

All of this to say; yes I think the two's beliefs could have been a contributing factor in The Divorce, but from a writing perspective (and based on the direction I personally want to see the story go), I find it far more likely if Crocodile's transition was the main cause, one way or another.

[velvetvexations]

I'm putting these asks in as text because my inbox is so packed rn lol. Love you Velvet Nation!

i swear to god cisfeminist spaces are the worst. a lesbian was asking why straight people have such bad sex (for the woman in the relationship, regarding the orgasm gap) and everyone jumped onto how testosterone is the reason for it (as in testosterone makes you want to orgasm in 3 minutes with no regard for extending sex outside of wanting to orgasm), even a trans woman saying the sex is so much better with oestrogen in her system. and me and a few other transmascs pointed out to this trans woman that it was probably because she was running on the wrong hormones, and any of us transmascs that dared to say we have extremely fulfilling sex that is infinitely better than the sex we had before we started T was absolutely shat on and berated for “speaking over women” even though we were just sharing our experiences, it’s just that those opinions went against the bioessentialism held deeply by the community

Yo, that's fucked? What the hell? Do people seriously earnestly not get how they come off here?

aside from OOP ignoring all of the black transmascs and other transmascs of colour in the discussion around transandrophobia (including a trans man of colour coining the term), i wonder if they believe we’re making up black transmascs because the transradfems i’ve seen so far have been overwhelmingly white. maybe because radfeminism is inherently racist or something… and their bible is written by a middle-class white woman with no perspective on transmisogynoir and this reflects upon a lot of the discussions of transmisogyny to this day…

Radical feminism is inherently Karenesque. They cross the street when they see the PoC transmascs they spend every waking hour slagging off approach on the sidewalk.

I just really want to chill and watch anime together with you some time, your taste is based as fuck

It sure is!

most bizarre thing i have seen today: a transradfem who clearly believes 100% closeted and non-passing transmascs have privilege over cis women but dancing around actually saying it because they know deep down it might get them backlash from the less radical transradfems

I don't even think it would.

I am still very "read another fucking author" at all the transfeminists who only ever quote Julia Serrano, but finding out she *also* hates the terms TMA/TME made my fucking week. Like, the transradfems' hero doesn't even agree with them!

A lot of them didn't even read Whipping Girl.

Can confirm male/female socialization is not actually a consistent thing because I was literally too autistic to internalize any gender roles, at least in relation to myself. Just. Never learned! Like water off a ducks back

High five!

Really if you take a character who presents as one gender and transition them some trans person is going to be mad about it cause they saw themselves in the original conception of the character. It's inevitable.

Yeah, that is the unfortunate truth of the matter.

That second paragraph is literally what terfs say about trans women. Turning that on trans men doesn't make you any more feminist it just makes you transphobic. (This is directed at the op of that post not you velvet)

Radical feminism is so fucking easy to recognize no matter how repackaged it is.

Racist feminism anon here: see this is the reason I feel like shit for having any critiques of feminism whatsoever. Like hashtag Not All Women obviously but literally these specific women aren't listening to marginalized men. We're not talking about whatever cis white able-bodied Elon Musk fan they think stands in for "men" in this situation. They put "valid concerns" in scare asterisks as though the very idea we have any is laughable. And no actually racism is not a "secondary manifestation" of misogyny and while transphobia stems from misogyny it shouldn't be treated as secondary for any trans person. How the fuck are we supposed to point out that white woman separatism leaves behind men who actually do suffer under patriarchy when it gets telephoned into "you stupid fucking bitch shut up I'll fucking kill you"

The point is making it so you can't.

BTW, I didn't get to edit it into the post before they blocked me, but they were reblogging Actual Nazi shit, like, the OP of the post was progressive but our dumbass here didn't notice that "if there was no hope their propaganda would be unnecessary" is (a) a popular Nazi thing and (b) added to the post by a literal Nazi.

It never does, they're fully removed from this plane of existence.

Note: At this point I kinna forgot I wasn't screenshotting these

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I can't believe someone who's BFFs with a tankie is a hypocrite.

You're the second person to apologize for using that format and it always makes me think of the clown-names drama every time.

[gnashingwailing]

GIRL (gender neutral) HELP NOT THE PEER REVIEWED HOMOPHOBIA

@fireflywritesgt sending u my ch 24/25 thoughts <3

⬆️How Harry looks processing how upset he is that Joe nearly died in a lake while lovingly making him tea for his hangover

Meanwhile, Joe: I hope sober Joe knows how to deal with this Sober Joe:

First off. this is primarily a reflection on Joe & Harry throughout these last two chapters but I would be remiss not to mention how EXTREMELY fed I am by the Gutters lore ... was HE a pet or was it someone he cared for... either way... woof. Plus Calloway coming to Joe's rescue once again... even though there are now rumors and Gutters saw something. In parallel with the marking scene ... this story does such a great job of balancing the horror with the levity. maybe it's for the best Joe isn't telling Harry the particulars of his visiting Calloway's bcuz Harry might just have a heart attack if he stops and thinks through the implications of all this. Wonder if he realizes how much danger he might have put Joe in... he seems to kinda forgor everything else where saving/supporting Joe is concerned (as seen in ch21 when he wanted to bring Joe to see O'Grady...)

(Btw I love the way (sober) Joe will NEVER admit anything re: Harry saving his life lol. “You just threw me into a curtain 🙄“ “I don’t even remember the turtle 🙄”)

“He knew what the medical journals had to say about homosexuals; hell, he had read them! He had to give himself some credit, however. The little bastard had been drunk as a skunk, lying helplessly in his hand, and the worst Harry had done was march him straight upstairs to tuck him into bed. Whatever pathology Harry himself had, it had not gotten the best of him yet.”

GIRL (gn) HELP NOT THE PEER-REVIEWED INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA… The Harry chapters always hit soooo hard for me when you read between the lines of what he’s thinking. He is SUCH a poor little guy… We can see pretty clearly that Harry thinks of his affections as something poisonous but Also apparently as something predatory? “his pathology” “getting the best of him” being like… what? That he’d take advantage of him because he’s attracted to him ? Is that the kind of thing the research said? UGH IT BREAKS MY HEART. I hope he’ll reject his coping mechanism of rationalizing and dissecting everything and just let go and trust Joe to know what he wants! It would be really tragic if Harry tried rejecting Joe much the same way Georgie rejected him :’(

“Harry, though he hated to admit it, was afraid – not of Joe himself, but what Joe represented.” - OUUUUUGHHH THE PARALLELS… the way Joe thought the exact same thing after the night of the thunderstorm… ouuuuughhhhh save meeee...

And the parallels continue in their tendency to self-harm… Joe may be more overt about it (lol if Harry ever learns that Joe has purposefully eaten poisoned chocolate three. times. and fully thought he was doing it a 4th with Harry’s own offering … #girl…) but Harry’s absolute repression of any self-expression or vulnerability is equally a form of self-harm… questioning Joe’s ability to make his own decisions is such a sad expression of how Harry (maybe unconsciously?) views things — safety and staying alive is worth more than authenticity. Maybe he won’t stick Joe in a cage anymore but he still wants to exert control over him — in the relatable way many of us do when we feel like our loved ones are making bad decisions. And Joe is making some of those! But so does everyone! And in Joe’s case the worst of them are likely driven from years of internalized self-loathing and self-neglect !! He would probably chill out if he just had a good man waiting for him at home……. Taking Harry by the shoulders and shaking him. U are both two sides of the same coin

Except

“Unseasoned. The word crept back into Joe’s mind. Calloway had a point, he realized; Harry wasn’t acting all that different from some of the lesser-experienced boys of Joe’s own size that he had toyed with. Surely, though, Harry didn’t find Joe attractive. That would be absurd!” Holy shit this whole chapter is so good but this part is hysterical. 1. TOYED WITH⁉️ 2. Watching Harry’s brain overheat in real time while 3. Joe getting to enjoy flirting shamelessly (clapping and hollering that he got to do that AND got to be sober to remember it) WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING LIKE 🤨 there’s no way he finds me attractive tho. How do they both manage to be such conniving little bastards and also so innocent. So clever and yet soooo dumb. 💕

But even tho he’s somewhat in disbelief about how Harry feels about him, Joe knows himself so very well lmao. At first I thought he was lying about not remembering their conversation but. I don’t think so. Harry telling him he said “something very nice” to him and Joe being like. Was it that you had a nice ass. LIKE HE WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO THE MARK BDDJSHHD but ALSO even just calling Harry handsome made him a blushing mess!! It fascinates me that Harry is so terrified of receiving affection but he felt much more at ease when he was giving it. I mean, he was calling Joe handsome two chapters ago‼️ I think Joe can be forgiven for his romance-novel-brain idealizing Harry as a seductor. It says something interesting about Harry’s character that he’s been so comfortable complimenting Joe until it might lead somewhere … Is that open, easygoing kindness, the sort that compliments other men readily, the ‘real’ Harry? Was Joe seeing his unvarnished personality before it got hidden under the internalized homophobia that has come out in force since ch22? I get the sense Harry is just the sort of guy whose true feelings sometimes spill out of him in a way he is barely cognizant of. We know that’s true for his anger, but I could see that being true for his affection, too. I’m guessing that is why his internal monologue goes “wow! He’s like a movie star :) and he’s so brave and cool and I respect him so much. He looks like a dancer. And his clothes look so good on him. And I notice his haircut and whether he’s getting enough sleep and every scratch and scrape and other intricacy of his appearance immediately. Yeah, I can’t help but love him - you know - like a brother or a friend!!” 👈 UNSEASONED

"“So you admit it. I’m up here because I manipulated you, and not because you manipulated me.” Joe said." — omfg. On the one hand, I love that these two are so good at unhanding each other, and it’s very cute to me that they’ve both at different points felt proud for “catching” one another. On the other hand, Harry & Joe when they are tasked with cultivating a mutually nurturing and vulnerable relationship:

WHAT IF NEITHER OF YOU ARE MANIPULATING THE OTHER AND DOING THIS BECAUSE YOU LIKE ONE ANOTHER AND YOU’RE BOTH CHOOSING THE UNKNOWN. WHAT IF THAT WASNT BEYOND BOTH UR KEN RN. What then. One day they will quit playing Tom and Jerry-esque mind games with each other but not today. I know the rituals are intricate. I know. I know they’re intricate 😔😔😔

On a lighter note so glad to see Joe’s other go-to behavior is back. If he doesn’t wanna Just Walk Out then he wants to Fuck Around & Find Out <3 I luv how compatible the two of them are… Joe is not only moving in he's turning Harry into the u-haul service and Harry is just enamored with him for it. Faithful hunting dog retrieving game indeed. Submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to its sheep. 10/10 Joe got his ass so good.

"“I’m sure you[‘ll listen to me]. You have to. If I’m gonna be the tiny, then it means you have to be the giant and do everything I say all the time.” He said." — Hmm. Joe and I have the same g/t fics bookmarked I think 👍 I sort of get the same sense that Harry got when Joe was talking about “luck” — that maybe the idea of “being the tiny” vs “being the giant” has some cultural connotations for him we don’t quite grasp.

OH this reminds me of the question I meant to ask you and promptly forgot about. If miniatures have a taboo against taking things without giving something in return… what does it feel like for Joe when Harry just keeps giving him stuff? Does “paying me in sleep” really work in borrower cultural norms? Hazarding a guess, I’m assuming romantic partners don’t necessarily operate on the same principle of equivalent exchange… given “Joe’s got a rich boyfriend that’s spoiling him” being something Calloway reads as normal/expected … That is to say. Hmm. Is Harry giving Joe all these things something that a romantic suitor would do? 🤔 Harry the unknowing seductor…

Parting thoughts… Miss Wilkins’ dad suddenly came down with tuberculosis, huh. Gang, do we know how Harry’s mom died, other than that it was sudden and traumatic? How do we think Harry is doing re: pushing all his feelings & unprocessed trauma down at this time. 👍/👎?

[carnalhaus]

Do you have any facts about stat that we don't usually hear about 🙏

i can try and dig some up LOL. not really new facts i guess, kind of just niche information from my notes some people might not be already familiar with.

stat has some gender business going on. people who’ve known abt his character for years will know this. he doesn’t know what to call it because he’s A Man, but he’s a woman too, in some sort of way. he isn’t versed on labels and he wouldn’t care for it anyway (this is also during the time period where certain labels weren’t coined yet or weren’t mainstream, and he didn’t really know many other queer people). it’s deeply rooted in him and he’s a little difficult about it, but confident enough in himself that he’ll never let someone Else disrespect him for it. he does know he’s bisexual though he will admit he likes men any day of the week he dgaf.

despite his constant scowling, when he’s alone with the kids he’s pretty smiley and easily amused. this is mainly because he gets too tired by the end of the day to pretend he’s angry at everything. stat is nasty but he’s still a person. he’s silly.

he grew up switching between a lot of homes. it was on and off with his parents and extended family from other states. he’s lived in new jersey, pennsylvania, and new york to name a few. barely ever went to school and sometimes he wouldn’t bother going because he knew he’d be living somewhere else next week anyway.

he eats like a dog with a resource guarding issue. mainly because he essentially Is resource guarding. he hunches over his plate and eats really fast like someone’s about to take it away from him. it sounds funny but it’s kind of not because even after all these years he can’t relax.

he wears makeup sometimes it’s cunty asf. the girls paint his nails and they get to pick the colors.

[melrosing]

9, 22, 32, 38?

9. Build your small council with any characters dead or alive

building a small council entirely out of Lannisters so that I can watch them capsize like the survivors in the lifeboats watching the titanic go down. also putting them in the least appropriate roles

King: Joffrey

HOK: we’re whipping out Gerion, who I imagine is like if the version of Jaime that haters think exists actually existed

Master of Coin: Tytos. known broke bitch

Master of Laws: Cersei. bloodbath

Master of Ships: Tyrion. probably would do a fine job but not under these circumstances

Master of Whispers: Jaime. he’s not listening though

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Tommen

Grand Maester: Tywin. this is how I prove to tywin bros that their man don’t know shit

22. A character so queer-coded you’d argue it to GRRM’s face

ppl like ‘I don’t get queer jaime readings’ then what chapters are YEW reading bc like half the shit on the page is on gender and sexuality. I think GRRM is too much of a boomer to really consider bi jaime as canon but in the meantime I think it’s valid. Ned also I’ve been thinking about unrequited nedbert lately. and blackfish obvs.

32. A fancast you absolutely can’t stand

I have a visceral reaction to any fan casting of jaime w dudes like chris hemsworth. partly bc the physique is all wrong and partly bc how dare you marvel-ise my boy (who yes would probably would love marvel movies but that’s not the point)

38. Is there a house would you fit in with based off your own looks? A house you would fit in with based off your personality/ideals/vibes etc?

ig Tyrell I got the curly brown hair brown eyes and I’ve always imagined the Tyrells as Italian lol which is the side of my family I physically take after so 🇮🇹 🌹

[neopronouns]

What’s the difference between neogenders and xenogenders? I’ve seen ‘neogender’ terms that exactly describe xenogender experiences, but the poster has specified that it’s not xenine at all. Not trying to hate, just genuinely curious.

Also could I claim the “🐛☀️” sign-off?

to start, neogenders are any genders coined after ~2000, while xenogenders are generally any genders defined in relation to concepts, objects, creatures, and other non-'human' gender concepts. i also like the way radiomogai defines them; autonomous (that is, not fitting under other gender concepts, like masculinity or femininity) gender identities related to external concepts.

the idea of 'neogender umbrellas' that are defined as separate from xenogenders despite seemingly fitting under what 'xenogender' encompasses was created by kenochoric. i was thankfully able to find an archived post containing many of the reasons why they didn't like kenochoric being defined as a xenogender, which i'll list here:

the xenogender label felt both too broad and too constricting and caused them dysphoria as a kenochoric person

they felt that xenogender does not properly include everything that kenochoric can include; for example, an agender or gendervoid person could consider that experience kenochoric, but those are definitely not xenogenders

they felt that kenosity has its own 'vibe', similar to other non-xenine gender qualities such as masculinity, femininity, neutrality, androgyny, outherinity, etc.

and, importantly, though kenochoric itself is not a xenogender, there can be crossover; one can experience a kenochord in a xenine way, a xenogender in a kenous way, etc.

here's another post from kenochoric on their own distinction between xenogender and neogender; in this one, they describe how the umbrella label of 'xenogender' can apply to genders related to literally anything, making the term 'xenogender' itself fairly nebulous and extensive, while neogender umbrellas such as kenochoric are all tied together by a central theme.

a lot of folks found this framework interesting, and the idea of neogender umbrellas that are not inherently xenine (but, on an individual basis, can be experienced in xenine ways) took off!

it may seem kind of hair-splitty, especially if you weren't there when kenochoric was discussing their personal distinction and essentially defining what a neogender umbrella is lol. i honestly think a lot of people felt sort of alienated by the xenogender label or just didn't relate to it and latched on to the idea of neogender umbrellas. they also (in my experience) are a really interesting coining exercise!

@radiomogai

[kiruliom]

coin fight 2023!

what is coin fight?

have you ever heard of art fight? it's like that, but for liom/mogai!

there is 2 teams (sun and moon for this year), and you 'attack' a member of the opposite team by coining things you think they'd like :D

this is made completely for fun, and has no rewards besides some "I was in the winning team" graphics (userboxes, blinkies, etc.)

the event will start on 9/20 and will last a week, with an exception being if it's still active after 1 week.

instructions:

make an entry here!

make a section on your pinned post (or an easily accessible rentry page) with your team and what you associate with your identity (make it as vague or specific as you need, doesnt need to be gender exclusive)

reblog the associated team post (sun) (moon) so people who check the reblogs of that post looking for people to attack can find you!

find a person to attack and coin things you think they will like! tag the person you're attacking and me (kiruliom), and tag #2023coinfight. also it would be really nice if you could tell us the approximation of your points (eg. it's a 5th link on a friendly fire revenge chain? please tell us its 7 points. ( 5 base, 2 points deducted for friendly fire, 5th link means 4th revenge, so +4)) this makes my job a lot easier.

rules:

if you fail to follow the instructions above you will be reached out to, or if you need help just tell me!

please check if you fit the DNI of the person you'd like to attack, or if THEY fit YOUR DNI. to avoid awkward situations.

all flags and terms made will have a 5 point base value. for every new 'link' on a revenge chain it will have 1 more point added to it. non-gender terms get 2 more points added to them, to encourage non-gender coinings

the terms coined dont need to be unique, just need to have unique flags. you can make an alternative bigender flag for example and it'd count as valid for points. however you cant submit flags made outside of the event time, this is more of a trust thing though as I cant tell for sure whether the flag was made before the event or not lol

there is a 3 attack per day rule, to avoid spamming. any more attacks submitted for the day will be rendered null, meaning no more points will be added for that day, this includes revenges. attacks are counted by amount of terms and not the amount of posts.

coining non-disordered paraphilia, MUD, oculoid or transid terms will render those attacks null, which means you wont earn points for them. transpecies is the exception to this as it's an alterhuman term and not a transid term.

friendly fire (attacking someone of the same team), is allowed. however 2 points will be deducted. this is to encourage a "team rivalry" more.

you can only attack 1 user at a time.

please dont take advantage of my awful memory and math skills and cheat, this is supposed to be for fun and you need to do your part for that, yeah?

re-elaborating the point system so it's in one place:

base term (say, a gender made for someone of the opposite team) = 5 pts

friendly fire (attacking someone of the same team) = -2 pts off total

revenge (attacking someone back)= +1 point per link on chain, starting from 2nd link/'first revenge'

non-gender terms = +2 points

sorry it's so messy, this is the first time Ive hosted an event that needs heavy moderation like this. I hope to figure this out via suggestions and trial-and-error.

[batpoisonz]

what are all the flags in your intro? :D /genq

I LOVE ANSWERING THESE TY FOR ASKING I will go in order for u and go in as much depth as I can!!

good faith 4 good faith

made by @stainedlenses! I believe (correct me if I am wrong) that it is for people who support good faith identities and would prefer to be partners with somebody else who is also a good faith supporter :3c (as in supporting all good faith identities such as mspec lesbians)

masculine-identified feminine-aligned cross-aligned flag

I made this one! it's for anybody who identifies as cross aligned and identifies as a masculine gender, but aligns with a feminine gender. for example im transfemmasc intersex and I identify as a man, but im aligned with any fiaspec genders (I think that's the right term).

transfem flag

also made by me! originally this was just supposed to be an "intersex transfem" flag but because the transfem community doesn't ENTIRELY have a flag we have agreed on (same with the transmasc community) I wanted to make it for just anybody who is transfem of any variant. I was also really exclusionary when I made it and decided on the flag with votes so I want to repurpose it for people who aren't exclusionary.

I know we have the pink and blue transfem and transmasc flags but as an intersex person I just wanted to stay away from them bc of all the discourse and potential false information cuz idk who to trust atp.

turigirl flag

idk who made this but basically for any turian/veldian/gay person who identifies as a girl in some way! it's the counterpart for lesboy!

inclusive dawn lesbian flag

made by @redtail-lol! imo it's really pretty, but basically I'm using it in place of the mainstream/sunset lesbian flag bc 1.) it was made by a bi lesbian 2.) it was made by somebody who is inclusive 3.) it isn't 2 flags smashed together so it has originality (which taking inspo is fine, u can have originality while taking inspo but the sunset flag didn't have that), and more! these are all reasons to use the dawn flag over using the sunset flag, in my personal preference. u don't have to use it!

lesboy flag

counterpart to turigirl, for anybody who identifies as a lesbian and a boy in some way!

lunian lesbian flag (idk why this one is smaller)

for lesbians who want to specify they're mspec without an mspec label/for lesbians who want to include lesbians of all genders!

intertransfluid

for anybody who is intersex and cannot specifically pinpoint what their gender is due to having a unique connection to gender/feels like no current terms completely match their gender or one of their genders/is fluid around what terms they use due to not knowing which one fits best. I also made this flag and coined the term!

7 stripe Sappho lesbian flag

made by @thepokedexisgay! for anybody who is a lesbian and wants to use the Sappho flag or this one I believe!! I use it instead of the mainstream one as well bc it's more inclusive and doesn't have connections to any sort of bigotry or racism. nor does it include any part of the lipstick flag which I am uncomfortable with

I think that's all of them! I hope this helps you!

[little-cereal-draws]

Hi! I saw a post where you mentioned intersex Jesus being a part of medieval European alchemy and I'd love to learn more about that. Could you elaborate or maybe provide links to some articles? I know some saint mystics talked about Jesus being our Mother, and the holy wound in His side was often likened to a birth canal, especially in medieval times. Is it connected to that in any way?

I'd love to elaborate! (This is going to be a long post so buckle up lol)

I will be using the word "hermaphrodite" instead of "intersex" because that is the word that primary sources from medieval Europe and contemporary medieval scholars use when talking about this subject

The best scholarly article I've found is "The Jesus Hermaphrodite: Science and Sex Difference in Premodern Europe" by Leah DeVun. It talks about how the image of the hermaphrodite was used in a metaphorical way by alchemists to show the combining/transforming of two different metals. They believed that certain metals/elements were gendered, so combining male and female "traits" would make something of a completely new sex; similar to the way they perceived hermaphrodites as both but also neither sex.

The article then goes on to talk about two medieval texts: Aurora consurgens and the Book of the Holy Trinity. Aurora consurgens is an alchemic text and has the image below in it. The hermaphrodite is holding a rabbit and bat, both of which were thought to be hermaphroditic species where both males and females gave birth, to emphasize their dual sexuality as well as the conflicting male and female attributes of alchemy.

The Book of the Holy Trinity transitioned from the traditional alchemic hermaphrodite, like seen above, into the religious sphere by arguing that Jesus and Mary were two sides of the same coin. The author of the text says, "one can never see the mother of God without also seeing that God eternally hides and intermingles [his mother] within him. God was and is eternally his own mother and his own father, human and divine, his divinity and his humanity intermingled within. And he depends on that which he wishes to be hidden most of all within himself, the divine and the human, the feminine and the masculine." This makes Jesus/Mary a hermaphrodite.

As a bit of a fun side note to your ask, the author of the Book of the Holy Trinity gives a few more supporting points to his argument and then turns to say that as Christ contains Mary, He also contains the Antichrist which the Book illustrates like this:

The idea of the hermaphrodite Christ really took off after that and boosted the cult of Saint Wilgefortis, saint of monsters. Images of the hermaphrodite Wilgefortis were often indistinguishable from images of Christ because they were both depicted on a cross but where they both have beards, Wilgefortis only has one shoe on: a playful medieval illusion to female sex organs. Images of Saint Wilgefortis below (some images from the 1800s, some from the 1400s). You can read more about Wilegfortis in Bearded Woman, Female Christ: Gendered Transformations in the Legends and Cult of Saint Wilgefortis by Lewis Wallace.

About a hundred years later, “The Lamentation around the remains of Christ,” below, was made depicting Jesus with breasts and feminine curves. Not much is known about it and Christ's hermaphroditic traits weren't even discovered until it was restored in the 21st century. Because of how recent this discovery is, not much scholarly work has been published on it, but I did find this: "The androgyny of Christ" by H. Valdes‑Socin. It is now at the Museum of Notre-Dame à la Rose Hospital in Lessines, Belgium.

And you're absolutely right about Christ's stab wound being like a birth canal! I think the article Mysticism and queer readings of Christ’s Side Wound in the Prayer Book of Bonne of Luxembourg by  Dr. Maeve K. Doyle does a good job of explaining it. Dr. Doyle says, "The image of the side wound, ... grants feminine bodily attributes to Christ, destabilizing assumptions about his gender. In mystical images and texts, Christ’s capacity to transcend the gender binary, like his capacity to transcend the binary of life and death, underscores his divinity." Dr. Doyle then goes on to talk about how images of the stab wound looking like a birth canal would also be comforting to medieval women, trans people, and homosexuals on both sides. Now I'm not Christian but I think it's really amazing that such a simple image can elicited so much comfort and joy in so many groups of people who were not able to fully be themselves in the era they lived in. It was a reminder that even Christ was like them, their feelings were valid (to an extent), and that Jesus loved them anyway. Medieval Jesus stab wounds below for people interested.

----

Just for fun here are some more cool things!

A medieval wooden architectural relief with a person with a beard, phallus, and breasts

Potta di Modena Metope/The Hermaphrodite (left) and detail from the Southern Archivolt (right) of the Modena Cathedral Modena, Italy, c. 1099-1319, Marble reliefs

The Potta di Modena Metope (left) is damaged because people in the 1500s thought it was too sexual/offensive so they vandalized it

More journal articles:

Bearded Women in Early Modern England by Mark Albert Johnston

The Third Sex: The Idea of the Hermaphrodite in Twelfth-Century Europe by Cary J. Nederman

Transvestites in the Middle Ages by Vern L. Bullough