#more hellbent on making sure the women lateral to you behave

[endykelopaedia]

i have a question that i think is a little stupid but has been eating at me for some time and i really dont know where else to ask it. you can ignore this, or leave it to your followers to answer, or ignore it completely thats up to you.

somewhat related to a recent post of yours, i am a trans guy who has become exceedingly self conscious because of constant comments from my friends and even family about how all men are evil and ugly, facial hair and other masculine traits being undesirable, to the point it has made me feel excluded from certain spaces for being bad or wrong somehow.

i suppose my genuine question is, is there a word for what im experiencing? am i just being too sensitive?? thank you for reading this

first wanna say thanks for feelin comfortable coming to me, and you aren't being stupid or too sensitive. really, a lot of men go through this pattern of thought. so lets talk.

I wanna consider why your friends/family say these negative comments about men, becuase sometimes that isnt just what they're doing, and thats of note.

If they're directing these kinds of comments at you and only at you in response to your transition, that is capital T Transphobia you're experiencing and I would confront them on this if you feel safe.

I have definitely been in situations where people have found out I am transmasc and started talking shit about men & masculinity as a cugel to talk shit abt my "choice" to transition.

Do not take this kind of behaviour at face value, because people who are doing this dont actually give a fuck about men being ugly or w/e, they only direct this kind of negativity towards men with a marginalised identity that they are prejudiced against, trans men's transness in this case.

This attitude of "but why would you want to be trans a man (or woman if it applies) when you'll be they're so xyz" is almost always directed at trans people with the explicit goal of questioning or discouraging our transition. there's nothing bad or wrong about being a man, & there's nothing bad or wrong about being a trans man. you can be sure about that.

sometimes people rlly are just complaining abt men though, yk, as people victimised by men. there is a big big difference between someone intentionally making you feel bad for "choosing" to be a man & someone generally upset with men as a whole (socio-political class).

im not gonna ask you to feel nothing when people do this, but try to be conscious of what someone is actually doing as well a the words themselves.

[haurchefantblog]

Too Much is Never Enough

This is a continuation of “The Worst Kept Secret in Ishgard”

I deleted the last post in a fit of melancholy and embarrassment. It’s honestly very indulgent and dramatic, but it’s what happens in my version of this story so I might as well just keep it up. Sorry for the repost! 

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The boy ran from the main hall of Camp Dragonhead in his dainty Sharlayan manner up to the carriage and swung the door open. Aodh watched as he climbed in and practically jumped into the seat beside Mor.

“What-“ he began loudly but then paused and covered his mouth, realizing the Warrior of Light was sleeping soundly. Aodh had fixed upon him a critical gaze, but Alphinaud seemed not to notice, all his attention was squarely on Mor. She was surprised to see he seemed worried.

After a moment had passed he finally sat straight in his seat, facing Aodh as the carriage began its slow pace through the snow back to Ishgard. He looked at her, his child’s eyes fraught with concern. Finally he spoke up.

“I have never seen her behave in this manner. Leaving without warning, acting without thought. Tis very unlike the Warrior of Light. This behavior is worrisome indeed.”

Aodh let out an involuntary scoff.

“Worried she won’t be up for saving yer bloody hero?” Aodh said, her tone mocking. It was more vicious than she had intended, but her nerves were shot. She had not known peace since the death of Lord Haurchefant. Alphinaud sat agape momentarily before mustering up the nerve to speak again.

“That would certainly be disappointing, but I was not speaking of that. Your sister means a great deal to me. To all of…what remains of the Scions.” This time Aodh could not contain it and let out her angry laugh. Alphinaud glared. “You do not believe me?”

“I believe my sister is nothing more than a tool for all the Scions’ bloody plans,” Aodh said, teeth grit.

“That is unkind and unfair!” Alphinaud exclaimed defensively, turning to Mor quickly to see if his outburst had stirred her. When he was satisfied she was still asleep he turned back to Aodh.

“If you all truly cared for her, then why did she not turn to ye when Lord Haurchefant was killed? Why did she have only me to console her? Where were all of you for a bloody moon while I listened to her cry day and night? While I force fed her? Bathed her? Where were all of you? Did any of ye even ken she was in love with him? Did ye even care? Have any of you ever even asked her anything about what she holds in her heart?”

Alphinaud held his chin to his chest, clearly shamed by Aodh’s heated words. There was no excuse that would satisfy her, and Alphinaud was not sure he wanted to make excuses.

“We…had…to plan for the next…” He began. He stopped himself quickly, losing the courage of his words.

Her words rang true. While Mor was left unconsolable in her grief, the Scions continued with their plans. He knew nothing else in all his years. For all his studying and veritable knowledge on various subjects, matters of the heart eluded his scope of expertise. He worked through his grief for his fallen comrades. He merely lost himself in his planning and strategies, hoping it would mend the foul feeling heavy in his heart.

“You have the right of it,” he finally spoke up again. “She never speaks much of herself. I suppose we…we have grown accustom not to ask. Not that it excuses our... excuses my neglect.”

His words came off as meek. It was a tone that Aodh had never heard from the boy before. Frankly she did not think it possible. He always spoke with the confidence of knowledge and conviction but now Aodh heard none of that. She just heard a sad boy. She sighed.

“Aye. She does not willingly offer her thoughts or feelings. Ye must press her. This is the first time…she has ever allowed herself to grieve. I do not think she truly even knows how.” Aodh eyed her still sleeping sister before looking at Alphinaud again. He seemed at a loss for words. There was a silence that carried on for-what felt like Alphinuaud-an eternity before Aodh spoke again.

“Well I s’pose if she never talked much of herself she never told ye about our brother…” Aodh said, looking out the window now. The trees dragged by the window at a snails pace, the carriage was clearly suffering in the deepening snow. Alphinaud’s eyes widened.

“Until this moment, I thought you to be her only sibling!” He said, almost excited by the information.

“Aye. I am. Now.” Aodh paused, reconsidering. She was not sure she wanted to tell this child something so personal after all, even if it helped him understand her sister a little better. Her eyes met with his and he seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for more information. Another deep sigh, as if it was enough to brace herself for the memories she was about to dig up.

“Our mother disappeared in Ala Mhigo on my ninth summer. Mor was barely eighteen, and left to raise me…and our baby brother who had yet to see his first year.” Aodh could feel burning behind her eyes and nose at the thought. She bit back the feeling and continued. “We had barely enough to survive a moon. Mor took on jobs as a seamstress so that she could be home with us as much as possible, but the need for that profession had long since died out in the years since the Imperials stole Ala Mhigo. There was almost no work to be had. Nearly two moons in she decided to write to our uncle, fearful we would die of starvation. Or worse.” Aodh looked to Alphinaud who was listening intently with his hand to his chin.

“I am sure you understand how dangerous this was. For Mor, who was trying to seek outside asylum from a terrorist military, hellbent on our subversion or genocide…if the letter was found out they would have torn us from our hovel and cut our throats leaving us to die in the dirt. It was also dangerous for my Uncle. He’s a fugitive of the Imperials. He was set for the chopping block rather early, so I’m told. His strong opposition to the Mad King, and then to the Empire…and his knack for pulling together and radicalizing strong opposition to the Imperials, well he could not stay in Gyr Abania long once they took over.���

“My point is, this letter was as dangerous to send as it was to receive. She had few connections left with the resistance and I’d later found out she pledged her future enrollment once the letter was sent and only after my uncle came for my brother and I. The pledge was enough to have them help her smuggle her letter into Eorzea.”

“Mor actually had mentioned this about your uncle. She has always talked about her family with great pride,” Alphinaud said breathily. Aodh let a smile creep across her face before it fell again.

“Aye. That sounds like her. She is much more willing to talk about her love of her family before talking about anything else goin on in that mind o’ hers,” Aodh looked at her sister and her heart truly felt like breaking.

“So you understand her love for us? You understand how she would do anything in her power to protect us? To keep us safe and happy? She was working her fingers to the bone waitin’ for a reply from our Uncle. She took any job, big or small, as long as it did not take her away from us for too long. Sometimes she even took us with her if it was not dangerous.”

“But raisin’ a child takes a village, as they say. Mor did not know how to care for a baby. With me, she helped with the things a child could help with, but raising a baby on her own, not to mention a willful nine year old, was beyond her ken. She was struggling. I knew it. The Echo would hum a tune into my head, tellin’ me my sister was not as strong as she was lettin’ on.”

Aodh noticed the boy’s position had changed. His body had slowly gone to slump against her sleeping sister, using her for warmth, or perhaps offering her his own. Somehow Aodh realized he was bracing himself. Aodh rubbed her finger against her bottom lip as she often did to try and calm herself.

“He was sick, our brother. We had lost our village apothecary and healers to the Imperials. More tried asking the older women of the village for help, but because of our mother they all turned their nose at us. They were stubborn, or perhaps just afraid. I don’t know. It matters not. I can never forgive them for letting a baby wither before their eyes and not lend a hand to help.

Mor was gearin’ to join the Resistance. They had the healers and perhaps the medicines we needed to mend our brother’s health. She was ready to lead us through the Peaks, prayin’ to Menphina every night as she prepared to protect our brother on the journey. To just have him hold out long enough to get the help we needed. The burden of this decision weighed on her heavily, for she didn’t know if it was the right one. How could she know? She was barely older than ye. Younger than I. Even at this age, I have no idea what I would’ve done.

But then it didn’t matter. Because Uncle Rhys showed up. No warning of his arrival, it was too dangerous to send us word of his location. He came in the dead of night. Said he was takin’ us away from Gyr Albania. He had a home, room for us all, enough to feed us. It all sounded too good to be true but he brought food with him, and some healing herbs. It was enough to convince us. Not that I had much say. Mor decided immediately, probably grateful for assistance with the wee one. It was not much, but he had the coin to get more supplies on the journey. We had to leave quickly. It was not only a harrowing journey, but if he were caught it would mean all of our deaths and they don’t give merciful deaths to fugitives.”

The carriage stopped abruptly. They had arrived at the gates of Isghard. It would not be much further now. It was hard to see her in the dark of the carriage, but she knew Mor had a fever. The Echo hummed around her, a quiet song of fire and troubled sleep. A nasty touch of cold was stirring in her. Aodh looked back to Alphinaud, the boy now fully resting against Mor an arm unknowingly curled around the blanket she was buried under.

“She spoke to our uncle of her pledge to join the Resistance but he would hear none of it. He said there was time enough for that. She was young still. But his priority was to see that his brother’s children were safe first. (Nevermind that me nor my brother were the children of his brother, it mattered not to him.). Said he owed him that much. Said they would talk about it once we reached his home. Mor agreed, also wanting my brother an’ me safe before anything else. We left that night with not more than the clothes on our back and what small amount of belongings we could carry and made our way to the border of the Shroud.”

It was about two days travel from our village to the border. Uncle Rhys said the Shroud was none too inviting but at least we would not have to look over our shoulders. He knew a former wailer that would give us shelter before the longer part of our journey west. We all knew we just had to make it out of Gyr Abania, just two days and we could breath a bit easier. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt the same fear as I did those two days. I couldn’t sing—my one true comfort— for fear it might alert the Imperials of our location. I felt like an ant waitin’ for a foot to crush me into the ground.  

I didn’t know it then, because my sister hid it so well, but I know it now: Mor’s fear has never matched those two days either because no matter what she tried, our brother was not eatin’. Nothing she nor Uncle Rhys tried seemed to improve his maladies.”

Aodh was on the verge of tears now, but she had told him so much already, and she was almost done now. She snuck her hand to her cheek to press the tears away from her face.

“The morning we we meant to cross the border, we had gathered our belongings and headed away from our camp, so close to the Shroud 6yuiywe swore we could smell the trees. Mor walked behind cooing silently…” Aodh trailed off, the pain of the memory too much for a moment, plunging her into silence. She swallowed in her shaky breath and continued. “I knew it immediately. The dirge already stirring in my head and ready on my lips. Mor had stopped. I turned to look at her and she stood silently for a moment, looking at the…” her voice broke. She ignored the tears streaming down her face. “looking at the tiny, wrapped bundle she held in her arms. She made not a sound, she only looked at him, crying, smiling through her tears, telling him he would never hurt or want for anything ever again.

Uncle quickly realized what had happened and ran back to her, trying to stifle his own wails as he came upon them and confirmed what he already knew.” Aodh stifled another cry and turned to look out at the deep abyss that surrounded the Steps of Faith. The black of the canyon matched the feeling she had pulled out from the deep reserves where she had them buried. She heard the boy sniffling but could not bring herself to look at him.

“My uncle was the one to break down. Crying for the bairn he had just met and cursing the Twelve for their lack of intervention. Cursing himself for not getting to us sooner. It was Mor, still…still gripping our…our dead brother in her arms…trying to soothe the both of us as we wept on the ground beside her. Mor, telling us we must quickly…bury him and move on.” Aodh breathed in sharply. “She said we could grieve when we got to safety. So she picked a spot not far off the dirt road and we dug…the smallest grave I’d ever seen….and we laid to rest…a baby.” Aodh paused, realizing her fists were clenched tightly in her lap. She looked to Alphinaud and his face was buried in Mor’s blankets as he cried softly. They would reach Foundation in moments and Lord Fortemps would have servants waiting to whisk her sister away to his home in the streets high above.

“We said our good byes. Mor apologized. Said she was sorry for not being the mother he needed. Sorry that he never got to see more’n a small hut in the middle of a dying village. Said she would visit him the first chance she got. And that she was happy he at least got to be buried in his homeland. And then she got up and start walking toward the border. She led a distraught child and let our Uncle quietly gather himself enough to put his head right again.

That tiny boy had his entire life ahead of him. He wouldn’t even be your age by now. He’d be a happy child, playing in my Uncle’s fields, not a burden in his heart. And I don’t know that I will ever stop being angry about it. I learned that day how cruel and unforgiving fate and the Gods could be to even the most pure and undeserving. I am angry to this day. But my sister. You know her well enough to know she hasn’t a hateful bone in her body. She has faced trial after trial and decided over and over again to press on with only love in her heart for a world that doesn’t deserve it. I know not another soul who is as loving as Mor. Maybe that’s why Hydealyn chose her. But it is beyond my ken why that damned Crystal would choose someone like Mor to suffer so.” Aodh finally went silent, allowing herself a moment to cry quietly. Alphinaud wiped at his tears and looked at Mor, then back to Aodh. After he felt he regained enough composure, he spoke again.

“Not that I am sorry for it, but why did you share this story with me? I thought you hated me. Why would you share something so deeply personal that clearly causes you a great deal of pain?”  

Aodh exhaled heavily and sat up in her seat, wiping the last tears from her eyes.

“Aye, I’m not fond of you. Nor any of the Scions. I told you this because I don’t know that Mor ever would. And if she did, she would tell ye about how it was her fault our little brother died, and how she did not do enough for him and how she handled our mother’s disappearance poorly.” Aodh shook her head. “She’d tell you the most daft, bloody idiotic version of it. But I needed you to hear it from me. From what I saw my sister go through. And to tell you, she has never once allowed herself a moment to grieve for that boy. Haurchefant’s death…I think it was a final drop in a bloody ocean of sorrow my sister has kept hidden in her heart. You say she is behaving abnormally? I need you to know she deserves to do so, because this is the first time she has allowed herself a moment to let her pain drive her actions. And I know it’s a selfish thing, but she deserves to be selfish and let herself figure out how to carry on.” Aodh paused. Weary anger was clouding her judgment again and she continued.

“Because soon, you will ask her to do something terribly dangerous. Again. And she will steel herself, and she will do it because she loves you and because she feels she has to. And she will not stop until she has been all used up if it means she is helping you meet your goals of saving the Realm.” The carriage rolled to a slow stop and the instant it did, there were already hands upon the door handle, pulling it open.

“Mistress Aodh, Master Alphinaud,” A Fortemps guard greeted them.

“She’s asleep. Be careful with her. Take her to her quarters and I’ll follow shortly,” Aodh said, not bothering with a single pleasantry or formality. The guard nodded and gently pulled the sleeping Mor from the carriage. She stirred only slightly before falling back to sleep.

Aodh stepped down, her hand on the carriage doorframe as she let herself out.

“Aodh, thank you. For sharing this with me. I want you know I would never ask Mor to do anything that was beyond her-” Aodh cut him off.

“You will. One day you will ask too much of her and she will not bat an eye before agreeing to help you. But I can only pray to the Gods that you realize it before you send my sister off to her death. She deserves better than you lot.”

Aodh stepped from the carriage. The wind had died down but she was sure she would never get used to the biting cold of Ishgard, never certain if it was the weather or the looming city itself that sent the chills through her. She started walking the long trek back to House Fortemps.

“Wait!” Alphinaud hopped off the carriage nearly slipping to follow her. “What was his name?”

“What?”

“Your brother…what was his-“

“Rory.” Aodh continued her pace towards the Pillars, not looking back, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of her anxiety and lack of sleep catching up with her.

“Will…will you tell me more? About her? About your lives before we met?” Alphinaud continued trailing behind her (they did share a destination after all). His request sounded sincere, but Aodh frowned into the collar of her coat.

“No. I’m not your friend, Lad.” She she said. She heard his small steps behind her halt. “But I’m sure if you deigned to ask Mor for some stories, she’d gladly tell you a tale or two.”

The crunch of gravel and snow once again continued behind her and the rest of their walk to House Fortemps was taken in silence.