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kariachi · 2 months ago

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Argit and Ben fic! Post-OTTO Motives, dealing some headcanons, some conlang, and some pronoun stuffs.

“So-” It wasn’t often Ben sought Argit out, especially not casually. They weren’t friends, technically, just Kevin’s bestfriend and… Kevin’s, respectively. Friends-by-proxy. Normally, Ben didn’t even go to Argit for questions about the guy, that was what he had Kevin for. This had just, seemed like the sort of thing he should go directly to the source about. “-Warlord Gar called you ‘she’.”

Across the desk, Argit paused, eyes narrowing and chin lifting just off his steepled fingers. The easy, too-sweet smile on his face gave way to a more cautious neutrality.

“Yeah, and?” Ben shrugged, settled in his chair as comfortably as he could be. It very clearly hadn’t been built for long-term use like Argit’s own was, or the one he’d seen get pulled out the last time he and Kevin were there at the same time. The back was too straight, the whole thing too hard.

“And nothing. Just curious, I’ve only ever heard you go by ‘he’, and Kevin normally is pretty firm about that sort of thing.” Really that was an understatement, their mutual friend was a lot of things but someone who wouldn’t current a person about pronouns wasn’t one of them. One of the coldest tones he’d ever heard out of the guy had come when he accidentally misgendered an alien they’d been fighting. To hear someone use a different set of pronouns for ‘his’ Argit and see neither of them react had been… Curious. He shrugged again. “If you want me to fuck off, I will, just figured I’d ask.”

“Nah.” With an easy shrug of his own, Argit leaned back in his plush chair, pockmarked with little holes from his quills. The smile didn’t come back, but the air became much more casual. “Just know some humans get weird about shit.” Ben raised a brow.

“My bestfriend is trans, dude.” Another shrug.

“And? You like him.” It was a point. Not a good one, but he could at least see where Argit was coming from. A small smirk graced the alien’s muzzle. “Kev used masculines for me when we met. Got outta the Null Void, found out a lot of places put guys higher on the social ladder, so kept using ‘em there. Places like Khoros, gals are in charge, so fuck it, go by feminines, get the boost.”

“So,” Ben said, turning the concept over in his head, “sort of like the whole back and forth Gwen’s starting to do?” He was still getting used to that. Weird gender stuff on its own wasn’t entirely new- his various alien forms were… various, and since learning about Kevin the ‘I’m not a man but I am a guy always’ had been very real- but the switching back and forth had been a new development in his understanding. It was still sinking in a bit, and the fact it was his own cousin was only helping speed things up so much.

Argit shook his head.

“Red changes, I don’t,” he said. “Most fuckers can’t pronounce Erinaen pronouns anyway, may as well just use whatever give me a boost.” With multiple quickfire blinks, Ben leant forward in his seat, eyes widening as a smile crept over his face.

“Okay, you can’t say that and not let me try.” Argit’s smirk widened as he raised a brow, ear twitching.

“Arlha.” Ben blinked again, the smile slipping away. He recognized an ‘l’ in there, and the little huff at the end, but the start of it… He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to roll the sound in it.

“Aaa-? Ahh-? Ahl-? Ahal-?” His face fell harder with every attempt to start. The smirk across the desk got wider with each.

“Come on, Benny, it’s easy. Same as my name- Argit.” That one did start the same now Argit was saying it, with a chirp and a snap of teeth and-

“What are you doing to that poor vowel?” Argit’s smirk grew wide enough to flash the too many teeth behind it.

“Trilling,” he (arlha? was that the right use?) said. “You’re not gonna get it. Sometimes you’re just not built to say shit.” Strong words, but Ben already knew he was going to spend the entire night trying to figure out how to trill an ‘a’. After all, the Tennyson family hadn’t gotten where it was by giving up. He certainly wasn’t going to just roll over for a random alien language.

“And it doesn’t translate,” Ben asked, shaking his head at his own failure.

“Means I sell shit other people make, move goods between places.” He blinked again, face screwing up as he tore his eyes from the middle distance between them and locked back on Argit’s face. That, was very new.

“Okay, your people are weird.” Argit just raised a brow again, higher.

“Yours decide what to call someone based on how many holes they have.” For a long moment, silence filled the air between them, Ben’s mouth hanging half open, words stuck.

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Put it that way and we’re both kind of weird.” He slumped back in his own chair, regretting it quickly as he readjusted for some level of comfort. “Question, if that’s cool?”

Rolling his eyes amusedly, Argit leaned forward to rest an elbow on the desk again, muzzle in the palm of his hand.

“I gonna end up teaching you a whole culture? Shoot.” Ben rolled his eyes back, smile coming back to his face.

“If your pronouns are all about your job, what do you call someone who doesn’t have one?” Argit hummed.

“Depends,” arlha(?) said. “Too young for a job? ‘Kiha’.” There was that same chirp from his name, with the same huff from before. Ben lodged the information away, in case it was useful later in proving he could manage to speak the language. “If you just don’t have a job, it’s ‘varha’.” And there was that stupid trill again.

Idly, Ben thought what he was hearing of the language sounded more like somebody had crossed a bird and a squirrel than like anything from a person. He kept it to himself.

“How many pronouns do you people have?”

“As much as we need,” Argit answered, then paused for a moment to visibly run numbers. “Fourteen.” Again, Ben’s brain went blank as words tried to form in his mouth. He couldn’t even fathom having to learn fourteen pronouns to function in society. How did you keep track of them all? How did you know what to call somebody? What if someone changed jobs?

“And,” he finally managed, shaking his head, “my language bases it on how many holes you have.” Eyes shining, Argit let out a loud laugh.

“We could both have it worse.” It was enough to pull a laugh out of Ben, even as he kept shaking his head.

“So, from now on I guess I should make sure I treat you like a girl when they’re in charge?”

“It’d be nice,” Argit said with a shrug, “but ain’t a big deal. I ain’t Kev or Red, the gendered stuff don’t really matter to me.” Smile slipping a bit, Ben’s head tilted just slightly as he looked at Argit with a not-quite-critical eye. The gendered stuff really mattered to Kevin and Gwen, he was still poking a little himself…

“And that right one?” Another laugh.

“I put in work for that one.” Argit’s expression didn’t change as arlha said it. “But I don’t work with species with similar systems a lot, or fuckers that can say it, so it’s cool.” Ben gave a little hum, turning the information over, before widening his smile into a smirk.

“I’m going to figure it out anyway,” he said, a little jolt of victory sparking in his chest as Argit’s face fell into blinking confusion for a heartbeat, maybe two. Arlha laughed then, flashing his teeth again.

“Benny, Kev’s been trying for six, seven years.” Ben’s smirk only got wider at that.

“All I’m hearing is ‘do you want to show Kevin up’.” After all, what were friends for if not mutual competition. Yes, it was mostly with Gwen so far as his life went, but still. Certainly Argit wasn’t too upset at the idea, laughing again as arlha shook his head. In an easy motion arlha reached over and shut off his translator just long enough for a quick

“Ma lama-a rovl-o nar, Benny.”

before the Omnitrix could register the need to fill the void. Ben just flashed his own teeth in response.

"Don’t know what you said," he said, “but I’m telling Kevin it means you like me more.” Argit just laughed harder.

“Only in your wildest fantasies,” arlha said, “though you’re making enough I might humor you.” Several emotions went through Ben at the concept, most firmly put-off- this was Argit of all people, who he wouldn’t want a part of even if he hadn’t been less into aliens than his relatives were- but none harsh enough to stop him barking a laugh of his own.

“You keep your golddigging away from me, I’ve heard how you encouraged Kevin.” The Erinaen clapped a hand to his chest, still grinning.

“Hey, Looma was firmly Kev’s idea. I just didn’t disapprove.”

“Uh-huh.” Ben crossed his arms. “Keep saying it, you won’t convince Gwen.” Argit snorted.

“I couldn’t convince Red the sky was blue.” It wasn’t a lie. One of the few times he’d seen his cousin properly short circuit had been when Argit’d taken her side during an argument. With Ben, not Kevin- because one of them would lie and the other would swear to it- but the event had still gone in Ben’s calendar, and possibly history books.

“She’d say it was green out of spite,” he replied. Real quick he checked the time and, as much because he did have a patrol to get to as because his back and butt were upset with him, rose to his feet with a groan and a stretch. “I ought to go before Rook come looking. Thanks for humoring me.” With a chirp, Argit waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” arlha said, rolling his shoulders and readjusting his position to better return to his work, smirk still on his muzzle. “Stay safe, and don’t hurt yourself on your Traveler Talk.” Ben just chuckled, threw a wave as he headed for and out the door.

If hurting himself was what it took to get that shit right, then he’d do it if he damn well pleased.

#fanfic #translation for the erinaen is functionally 'you're aging me'#though the sentence itself is open to change as i eventually work out this verb bullshit #which remains my primary roadblock to doing more with that damn conlang #who decided aspect and mood were a thing i mean really?

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nerdyqueerandjewish · 1 year ago

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Nothing happened to trigger this but I’m just so mad at my dad and just … sad about our relationship. It’s really unsatisfying though because it’s basically me having an argument in my head because I never see him. I’m sure he is blissfully unaware I have any issue.

We had made plans to play the new Pokémon snap together the afternoon of grandma’s (his mom’s) funeral. It would be good to spend time together and we played the original Pokémon snap on the N64 when I was a kid. It was going to be good. Then it became “actually I’m going to grab a drink with some friends first.” Ok. They went to a bar that is weird and conservative, but he is oblivious to that sort of stuff and how maybe his two trans kids might not want to join him! (Another example - in 2020 he moved to Florida and continues to think it is paradise). We hung out at my mom’s. 7:40 I finally hear from him asking if we still want to get together and game. Not really … being that you’ve been drinking for the last six hours… that doesn’t sound fun to me and it’s been a long ass day and I’m ready to sleep for a hundred years.

And I’m just thinking more of like… my experience growing up. My parents divorced when I was in 4th grade. He had custody of us every other weekend, and we loved visiting him, but! He didn’t even take us as often as he could have! And so many weekends he would drag us to some weird friends house and have me babysit while they went out. We were always sleeping on some random couch while the adults came back and were super loud and rowdy all night. And as a kid I didn’t question this, it was all I knew. But now I know people who share custody of their kids and they want to spend all the time they possibly can with them! Doing things with friends and their kids, totally fine! Many fun times can be had! but like, you haven’t seen your children in months and you’re going to leave them to go out to a bar with your friends?? Then sleep most of the next day?? Hello??

Last two times he called me - first one was to wish me a happy Chanukah and say he loves me, but he was drunk and repeating himself over and over again. Most recent time he was also drunk and wanted to tell me about how the song “Brass Monkey” came on and “don’t you remember that song??” and he was not coherent enough to actually have a conversation with. I try to frame it as like “that’s so nice he’s thinking of me” but ?? if anyone else only called me when they were incoherently drunk I’d stop answering.

I don’t know man. He’s not a bad person, but I just wish he was a better dad.

#also as im writing this out I’m like oh he is definitely an alcoholic #sigh #we got brunch after grandma died and it was actually the best convo I’ve had with him in years #probably also the only sober convo I’ve had with him in years!#also just … it’s sad how the bar is on the floor

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 1 year ago

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Thinking About Tiffany Pollard Today

Tiffany "New York" Pollard. I know that a lot of people have a lot of opinions about her, but I, for one, feel like we "came up" together. I watched her from the time she was just some girl fighting for Flavor Fav through many twists and turns, some of which happened for all of us to see.

I remember whenever she was facing backlash for her transphobic statements and how taken aback she was by it while everyone pounced on her, and whenever I saw the interaction, I immediately thought, "Oh. She thinks that this is just part of the gig, because of how she was handled when she arrived on the scene." And. Ultimately, I wound up being right, like I usually am (TS Madison confirmed for me basically everything that I had said about the situation).

Tiffany was frequently called a man, a tranny, transvestite, and a drag queen, and it was something that I remember her embracing and never getting mad or upset, saying that these people are fabulous, just like me, etc. So, whenever she's asking that woman about being a man and having certain genitals, she quite literally thought that this is just part of people thinking/saying that you are or look like a man.

Maddie had to explain to her that the people who were speaking about her in those ways were also being transphobic, to which Tiffany was confused, because 'How can somebody be being transphobic to you if you aren't trans?' They are conversations that she didn't seem to have had before, and her trans friends got her together about it and she was able to learn moving forward. (As of now, I don't think that since then she has ever had a similar incident and she still seems to have the support and following of her trans friends and loved ones).

But, one thing that I think about every time Tiffany makes her way back into the spotlight is the fact that we are essentially the same age, but when I was spending my first semester in college, not realizing that I was wasting my time and money, she was getting started on her tract to becoming a "problematic fave" and resetting the course of reality tv.

She did so much that SHE was the star of Flavor of Love, and these were the days before they even CONSIDERED mental health or support. This woman, my age. Early 20s, getting into one of the most exploitative tv situations in history for a man twice her age, who embarrassed her on national tv TWICE, by loving all over her and then selecting someone else in the end.

The years following this debut as the HBIC of reality tv, we got to see a lot of her mom and their shaky relationship, we got to see her attempt to find love multiple times, and do various jobs. We got to see this woman who entered the business in the reality genre sort of stay in that arena for 2 decades. She has so many iconic moments, lines, reactions. There are people who have no idea what her voice sounds like, but they know things she's said because her face has been popular for memes for all this time. She even gets paid to do all of this.

But, she also always plays the villain role. She's always seen as a foe or an antagonist, because she was a hotheaded 23 year old when she first got on camera (maybe younger if it took them a while to record the show). And, I have seen over the years people trash her up and down. Yes, she has a very large fan base, as well, but she's gotten a lot of hate from then up until now, and I don't know if people actually think about the fact that she was in her early 20s whenever VH1 found her willing to pimp herself out to Flavor motherfucking Flav, who once again, is twice her age.

Even her moments of supposed healing (VH1's Family Therapy With Dr. Jenn) was put on TV for our entertainment. This woman really had a weird adulthood, because reality stars simply were not famous whenever she became a famous reality star, and reality tv was not as big or important as it is today. She didn't become rich from her Flavor of Love fame. She has what she has now specifically because she's always out there hustling and loaning out her personality/persona for her fame and fortune.

She set the bar for a lot of the reality tv tropes that we see today. Many of the girlies do not even realize that when they get on camera and they're tryna fit a certain reality role to get screen time, that they are simply emulating a woman who was just herself in her early 20s and was used as a formula that an industry was built upon. There were not many reality tv shows back then, but there were some and even though she wasn't the first, she is one of the first people who others after her decided that they would pick up characteristics from. She hasn't been able to be a full person in front of us and the moment she messes up, she is either met with people laughing at her pain or dragging her to hell for her mistakes.

Happy Birthday to that lady. She ain't perfect, but she has given us a lot and none of our asses ever really seem to want what's best for her. She's a character to most people. An avatar of reality that they watch to see what wild shit she'll do or say next. When, I know that there's a human woman there who I hope does have some grace in her life. Ionknow, Man. I just think Black women deserve some grace, even if they are imperfect people, but especially when their imperfections have been fodder for national audiences to laugh and chatter about, and for almost half of her life now.

#Tiffany Pollard #Happy Birthday Tiffany Pollard #reality tv #reality stars #competition series #big brother #Black Women in Reality TV #Black Women in Entertainment #Flavor of Love #I Love New York #VH1's Family Therapy With Dr. Jenn #Celebrity Big Brother #Girl That's Queuedt #Black Women in Big Brother

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unavailableapple · 5 months ago

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for that radfem ask meme thingy u reblogged, number 1, 3, 4, and 8 ^_^

(also just wanna say I love ur blog)

Thank you!!

I think I’ve already addressed 3? It should be in another post somewhere but you might have to scroll a bit, sorry about that :’) my blog is a tad cluttered. I need tags to separate things.

Anyway content warning because I’m going to be discussing sexual assault and harassment in all of these answers.

1 is leftist men. Haha oh wow I have a lot but I can’t even put all my thoughts into words. The funniest part about leftist men is that they’re all lying. Every single one. It takes at most three hang out sessions with a “feminist” leftist guy for him to start talking about how evil the Barbie movie is because it’s misandrist, how all his exes were fucking crazyyyy, and how he can’t stand radical feminists. Okay so you’re a misogynist like every other man? Wow how counter-culture!

Over the summer I became friends with a man (mistake number one) who had similar interests to me and I was very excited to be friends. I don’t have many friends with these specific interests because they’re very niche and very masculine. I was so happy to be friends with this guy who showed no romantic or sexual interest in me finally. Frankly it would’ve been weird if he did show those interests considering he’s 26 years old and I was 19 at the time, which is a hell of an age gap. Best part? He was a HUGE leftist. He campaigned for Kamala Harris and had a ton of stickers on his computer about reproductive rights and the like. So I thought he was safe (mistake number two). After hanging out for a few weeks he invited me back to his house to play with his dog. And I accepted (mistake number three). I don’t think I need to finish the story. 🤷‍♀️

4 is trans-identified males. I have a lot of stories. I think I’ve already talked about the time a man stole my cultural name because I wouldn’t have sex with him (yes this ACTUALLY happened). Here’s another story. When I was thirteen years old and identified as a heterosexual trans man (LOL) I joined a book group for transgender adults. I had lied to my parents so they would let me go. Anyway the only person who showed up was a trans-identified male in an adult dress that was bright pink and frilly. He repeatedly “misgendered” me (called me female and she/her). He took extreme delight in saying “us girls.” He repeatedly moved closer to me and touched my thigh. He asked me to come back to his apartment but I said my mom was waiting for me in the car (true). Keep in mind I was freshly 13 years old. He was in his mid forties and a teacher. This was SEVEN YEARS AGO.

I left and told my girlfriend at the time (who was also a trans man) said I was transphobic. She said if I didn’t want to be misgendered I should make more of an effort to ‘pass’ (I had to stop binding my chest because I was using tape and had injured myself pretty badly already). I said that I still called this man she/her pronouns despite him having a beard and my girlfriend said, “That isn’t the same. It’s harder for trans women to pass.”

I was thirteen years old. Goddamn.

8 is the ‘sex work’ industry. I think I’ve already talked about this but I used to be an underage cam girl when I was homeless (for the first time). I did other things as well but I was never an actual prostitute so I do not purport to have that experience. I engaged in this behavior between the ages of around 11-13 until I was able to return to my home.

Recently in class we were discussing the way that prostitution affects women in impoverished countries. I used the term “victim of prostitution” and was IMMEDIATELY “corrected” to the term sex worker! I replied, “As a previous underage quote-unquote sex worker, I find the term sex worker to be extremely capitalistic and dehumanizing so I’d prefer not to use it.” The SILENCE that came over the room, damn! I do not usually like to talk about my personal history with people I don’t know very well (actually…no one in my real life knows about my past with these things, not even my mother, because it feels so shameful and embarrassing). But that just came out of my mouth. They have not “corrected” me since.

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internerdionality · 1 year ago

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Well I would LOVE to hear more about the t4t4t gentlescribed modern AU— What situation have they found themselves in? If you’re inclined to post a snippet obviously I’d be thrilled to read it

Okay! 😊 So, this fic arose because I was talking with fandom friends how the most common character, by far, in the fandom to get headcanoned as trans is Izzy, to the extent that people are starting to tag Cis!Izzy on fics where he's not trans, right? Which, no judgment or negativity there whatsoever, we just happened to be talking about how and why that became a thing.

And then I said 'wouldn't it be funny if I wrote a modern AU where everyone except Izzy is trans?'

And of course, then I had to do that.

Another idea I'd been noodling on for a while was something happening between Lucius and Ed when Lucius goes in to comfort Ed in S01E10. (I've seen other variations of that, liked them a lot, always wanted to play with it.)

So. In this fic, Lucius and Stede are both trans men, everyone else in the crew is some flavor of not-cis, the Revenge is a queer nonprofit that helps provide housing and funds for trans/enby folk in need, Ed and Izzy run an antifa biker gang/minor drug ring, and Ed's egg starts to crack when they all run into each other. (That's all backstory, the fic starts with Lucius going in to comfort Ed after the catastrophe.)

Note that Ed is trans femme/enby in this fic, but she doesn't know that yet, so they are still using he/him pronouns in this snippet.

“Okay, well. Blackbeard. Sir. How are you doing?” “Don’t have to call me that,” Blackbeard said, a little bit of a whine in his voice. “I mean—I don’t know if I want to be Blackbeard anymore. Not like there’s even a gray beard, anymore.” “We noticed that,” Lucius said tentatively. “What, ah—what happened? If you want to talk about it.” Blackb—fuck, what was Lucius supposed to call him?—shrugged. “Pigs said it was a security issue, could hide shit in it or some fucking BS like that. Coulda fought it, or kept a shorter one, but. Thought it’d maybe be smart, you know? Be less recognizable. Got a lot of enemies in prison. Didn’t end up staying long enough for it to matter, though.” “That makes sense,” Lucius encouraged. “And, maybe it just felt like time to try something new?” The other’s eyes widened and fixed on Lucius, as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to be someone else, you know? Sick of being this.” “Well, what would you like me to call you?” Lucius asked. The person formerly known as Blackbeard pursed his lips. “I always liked it when people called me Eddie,” he said softly.

#our flag means death #our flag means fanfic #writing wip #snippet #gentlescribed #lucius spriggs #ofmd blackbeard #ofmd edward teach #ask answered

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chemacetree · 2 years ago

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A letter from a queer daughter to her mom

I love you

I know you love me

You held me in your arms tight, before they rushed me off to the NICU, without even a name picked out for me yet. You were so sick after I was born, and so was Dad, and so was I. What a trio were we!

And yet, after all the APGAR score scares and the feeding worries and the bouts of preeclampsia and flu, we made it. Your little daughter, your first child and only little girl, named after both of your grandmothers. Here I am, all grown up, and queer.

Dear Mom, I know you don’t get why queer people are queer, or choose to be out, and marry, and transition, and everything else queer people do. It’s not something you’re really meant to get. It’s not about you. But I know that’s not a satisfactory answer. It wasn’t for me for a long time. I know you don’t know all the right words to say, or the right pronouns to use, or the right phrases to stick to. I get it. I wish I could make it easier for you to keep track of everything; heaven knows how much has changed since you were born.

You didn’t understand why I felt like I was running out of grace, or having to tiptoe between being queer and being your daughter. You promised that you’d love me and treat me well no matter what, and I believe you. I promise that I know you love me.

I don’t know if you’d love my best friends, if you knew. I don’t know you’d take me seriously if I told you that the “boy” who wanted to date me in high school was actually a girl, or if you’d write her off as being too mentally ill to really know. I don’t know if you’d be excited for me to visit my internet friends if you knew they were getting married, as two non-binary people, instead of moving to a new country. It feels like every queer person you can think of has some extenuating circumstance or excuse to make you wonder if they’re really queer, or just traumatized, which doesn’t really comfort your daughter, diagnosed autistic and wondering if you blame my sexuality on my disability. Not, to be fair, that you’ve said anything to that effect.

There is a whole part of my life that I just cannot share with you. How am I supposed to tell the person who spent an hour raging about trans people “forcing new grammar on people” that I’m happiest in my own body when I look visibly queer? That I want to be seen, not just as a girl, but a queer girl? That, if you didn’t FaceTime every week, I’d hang a pride flag in my room next to my crucifix and rosary?

I dyed my hair and bought “unprofessional” skirts and got a button up with whales on it. I started doing my hair more and putting in hairbows and dressing up for no reason. I put pins with colorful beads on my lanyard. You see the clothes and the hair bows and the shoes and think “finally, she’s taking an interest in her clothing after twenty years”. I see the way my rainbow-pin-wearing classmates clock me and drop the tension in their shoulders.

You have told me since I was little that God blessed me with a big heart. For a while, I wrestled with that, because I was naïve and gullible and too emotional for everything. It’s hard to make peace with, some days, that trusting people wholeheartedly sometimes means being led astray or hurt. But you encouraged me to surround myself with good Christian people, people with kindness and compassion, people who loved openly and gave generously without counting the cost. I have found them! I’ve found the people I want to grow up to become, people who love openly and warmly and reflect God’s love to others. And they are very often queer.

It keeps ending up that way, funnily enough. The people who seem to most embody God’s love keep ending up queer, or very supportive of queer people. And I think I understand why; the longer I held vinegar in my mouth, dripping hatred and condescension for queer people, the harder it became to love without some measure of distrust and fear, because what if they were gay? Or trans? Or something else I didn’t understand? I spent so long not knowing my own sexuality because I flatly refused to acknowledge it, even when my friends point-blank asked. I spent even longer terrified of how you reacted when I told you. My brother outed me. I’m lucky I’m the palatable flavor of queer for you, so you could encourage me to be a nun instead of trying to keep me from kissing girls or wearing boy’s clothes.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to do all the time. It matters that you care. It matters that you try. Queer people are not your enemy. They’re my people. Not some nebulous “them” with an agenda; but my community, my friends, and me. What you say about the most baffling and unpalatable queer person you can think of, in the privacy of your car ride home, you say about the comprehensible, palatable queer daughter in that car.

I want to be able to tell you about my friends, my classmates, even my favorite DND podcasts. I want to be able to tell you about how cis people can get gender euphoria after all, and that when I looked in the mirror that first time with my blue hair and my new skirt, I got it. I want to be able to tell you that I’m finally going to participate in a wedding as the maid of honor, and not just the flower girl.

I wish I could rejoice with you and show you the Side A churches in our city, and have you come to Mass with me there one time. One day, when we’re both older, I hope we still can. There is so much joy to be had in being an openly queer child of God.

Please come home with me. I want you in my life.

Sincerely,

Your queer daughter, who loves you very much

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casp1an-sea · 25 days ago

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My Trans Journey 🫶

Tw: Transphobia/Homophobia, Religion, Gender Dysphoria

Yesterday, one of my friends asked me how I knew that I was trans.

And to be honest, I didn’t have a very good answer. Because I really don’t remember honestly a lot of it was a blur, but I can try and make sense of it.

I grew up in a very Christian household LGBTQ was really just not something that existed for me. I obviously never thought about it in that context when I was a child, but I have always been more drawn to male characters in fiction and even when I played elaborate imaginary games with my younger sister, I was always given the male role.

For example Me and my sister loved Legos a lot. We were always getting new Lego friends sets for birthdays and Christmas. And eventually, we started our own little narrative with our Lego characters that honestly became some of the most intricate OC lore I had ever come up with, and these were characters I made up when I was five. But you see my sister only wanted to play with the girl Lego characters. She didn’t want to play with the boys, but we still need boys in the story so all of the boy characters ended up getting played by me. And I never had trouble relating to them. They were honestly part of me. And they still are part of me. A lot of of my happy memories in my childhood all go back to those OCs Chris, Malachi, and Milo. And honestly, even if I didn’t know I was trans at the time. Chris was just an extension of myself but as a man.

and even when it didn’t come to my original characters, all of my favorite characters in the TV shows I watched were boys too. My sister liked Aviva from wild Kratts and Dashi from Octonauts, but my favorites were Chris and Kwazii. (And don’t even get me started on my obsession with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I literally made TMNT paper dolls, and played family with them at recess 💀) And I always wanted to pretend to be them and no one ever thought that was strange. Because it wasn’t strange. I remember being so happy when my mom let me dress up as Chris for Halloween. She handmade my creature power suit with glow in the dark green puffy paint so the paw print would glow when I went trick-or-treating. She always used to hand make my Halloween costumes when I was little and up to that point they had all been girl characters. I think I remember worrying that she might find it weird that I wanted to dress up as a guy, but she never said anything about it.

That’s the bliss of being a child. All those things really don’t matter.

but when you get older, it’s not that simple. I remember the first time I was introduced to LGBTQ was when one of my friends came out to me as lesbian. I really didn’t understand the concept of what being gay meant. I was confused by it. And unfortunately, I had a lot of internalized homophobia that I didn’t even realize was instilled in me by the teachings I have been taught Growing up in the church. I never told my friends that they couldn’t be gay. I never told them that I wouldn’t be friends with them if they were. But at the time, I still thought it was a sin. And they knew that I felt that.

But with the help of not only my friends around me being openly queer, but also getting my own Chromebook that allowed me to explore things online that would otherwise be censored by my parents I was able to start seeing the fractures in the framework. And sure I saw things I didn’t want to see I got into things I kind of regret getting into, but I don’t regret exploring, and if I hadn’t stumbled in that area of my life, I would not be the person I am today and it was really the Internet that kind of Made me begin to understand that it didn’t make sense for queerness to be a sin.

And then there was a person on my gymnastics team. I will be referring to them as he as that’s what he goes by now, but at the time He had not yet found out he was trans. I really liked this person on my gymnastics team, but I didn’t understand what that meant. And we were having a conversation and he asked me what kind of people I was into. My response was “boys obviously”, (which is ironic because that’s actually accurate to now) and he responded with “Oh, I always thought you would be into girls.” And that was the moment it sunk in for me not only was I gay, but I had a crush on this person. Though at this time, I was still under the impression that he had a girlfriend so I did not mention the crush to him. We did eventually get together after I had fully come out as bisexual and after a lot of trauma of being outed to my parents for the first time. But that’s another story.

anyway, while I was figuring things out with my sexuality, I met my first ever trans friend. One of my friends in my art class came out to me as a non-binary. And to be honest, I don’t remember how I reacted to that. I genuinely don’t eighth grade was such a blur to me. But this person this first trans friend is really what made me realize that there were more boxes that I could choose from than just boy or girl and they continue to help me a lot with my trans journey.

I genuinely don’t remember the first time I realized that I was trans, I don’t remember what made me realize that either. I just remember that people calling me she/her started to feel wrong. It didn’t feel like they were referring to me anymore. Those pronouns just didn’t fit. And I did a lot of talking with my friends and eventually decided that maybe I was gender fluid or bi gender. I honestly don’t really remember which one I thought I was first. But a lot of of these first steps was just denial.

I was attached to the identity I had before I knew I was trans. For a long time I didn’t want a preferred name. Not because I thought the name I had fit me but simply because I didn’t like letting go. But Soon after coming out as trans it was very evident to me that in my head, I pictured myself as a boy. Not just a non-binary person I always leaned more masculine in my head, but I think part of me was denying that. Partially because I don’t like change and partially because I am very proud to be Afab and even though I’m not a woman that identity that I thought I was, is still a huge part of me. I know it’s not the same for every trans person but people, knowing that I was born a woman, and I went through and still go through the struggles that women go through is very important to me and always has been.

but eventually, I stopped denying things or at least I stepped in that direction. I remember I was talking with a friend and we were making characters to do a role-play with each other and their character was named Rei and I don’t know why, but that just stuck out to me. And I kept thinking of that name over and over again. It just sounded so nice and also it just felt like it was for me. But as I mentioned earlier, one of my biggest hesitations to changing my name was the attachment I held to the name I had. But then I got an idea what if I made a preferred name only using letters that were in my birth name. And that is how Re came to be. This is what really made me realize that I was more on the masculine side of the spectrum then I realized I think this was also around the time where I started telling people I wanted to use he/him pronouns.

Also, around this time, I became more comfortable in the clothing I wore. I had stopped wearing skirts for a long time because I was bullied out of it in elementary school. But ironically, me being more comfortable in my more masculine identity made me more comfortable wearing skirts (unfortunately they give me dysphoria now, even though I love them 😅) and my mom noticed that change and was kind of weirded out by it. Which is strange to me because if anything she would want me to be more feminine, right? But dressing masculine didn’t help either. if I tried to dress like a boy, like when I asked if I could cosplay Tenya Iida from MHA, there was suddenly a lot more fuss than there had been when I was a seven-year-old dressing as Chris Kratt for Halloween.

But this discouragement to dress the way I wanted, or particularly people getting weird about me dressing like boys when they hadn’t when I was a child just made me realize how messed up and complicated things were. And only reinforced the identity I had.

It was also around this time where I started feeling unwelcome in my church community. I had already denounced the Bible, but still considered myself a Christian at the time. as during eighth grade when I was going through a severe depression. I turned to God as a comforting source when I couldn’t go to my parents. But it wasn’t comfortable anymore. Because I learned more and more about the hypocrisy of it and every time I went to that church I just felt like people were staring at me that they knew I didn’t belong there. And I knew that if they didn’t know, if they ever found out they probably would kick me out Or not want me singing their songs for them in the choir. And I do believe that you can be trans and gay and still be a Christian, but if my religion was no longer a comfort to me. Then why was I still following it? That was also a very complex Journey that I didn’t really figure out till last year. When I finally fully denounced Christianity. But me being trans was a driving force of that.

Even with these realizations, it was still a very complicated journey from there on. I know I never technically needed a label, but the labels made me feel validated at the same time so I always wanted one that fit me the way I wanted it to. But I was still at the point where I didn’t really understand all of these feelings and emotions about my body and myself so for a while I decided I was novi gender. Which basically just means my gender is too complicated to be fathomed or put in a box. It was really a nothing label that just gave me something to latch onto and something to proudly say I was when I still really didn’t know what I was. And then, as I became more comfortable in myself and more comfortable, realizing that I was masc I started using the term Demi male. Because I still felt attachment to the femininity I had and I didn’t yet realize that that had nothing to do with my gender. It was around this time that I also added Ey/Em pronouns as a more gender neutral alternative when I went through a slight crisis about my masculinity and wanted a more gender neutral option. These are pronouns I don’t really use anymore. Though I occasionally still mention I have them.

I always hated explaining My gender to people. They were very awkward conversations that were uncomfortable, and I started to realize that if I said I was Demi male. A lot of people were still seeing me more as androgynous than masculine as Demi male was a non-binary gender, even though it was more on the masculine side of the spectrum. So I started calling myself trans masc it essentially meant the same thing, but it was more comfortable to me, and when people heard the word trans they were more likely to perceive me as a trans man than as a non-binary person and that is what I preferred because if they saw me as a trans man, it was more likely that they saw me as masculine or at least acknowledged that I wanted to be more masculine than androgynous.

Honestly, everything about myself was screaming to just say that I was a trans man, but I felt like I couldn’t be because I wasn’t ashamed to be born a woman and I didn’t want to be kicked out of women’s spaces if I started saying I was a man, and all these other things like insecurities of if I really wanted to be a guy because I still liked feminine clothing, and I still wanted to have my own kids and I hadn’t met a trans man then wanted that for themselves. Then obviously just the ever persisting doubt that I’m not really trans and I’m just faking it. But I was getting more and more dysphoric about my body and calling myself trans just felt right…

at the time I still considered myself to be trans masc but I kind of stopped in introducing myself as that and just told people I was trans without really explaining things because if they saw me as a man that made me happy and I’d rather people not know about my struggle with femininity. It was also around this time that I also started going by the name Caspian. Though Re was still more widely used at my school because that’s what people knew me by. I wanted a name that was less gender, neutral, but I didn’t want to do away with Re because I still liked it, and it was still a part of me. One of my friends, (who also happened to be the first trans friend I ever had, mentioned above), went by multiple names. And I stupidly didn’t want them to think I was stealing their thing so it took me like a year to admit that I wanted to go by Caspian. 😭 (yes I did name myself after a Chronicles of Narnia Prince) but eventually, when I did, it felt great. It felt like me honestly even more so then Re did, and originally they were kind of both like two first names that people could choose from now it’s more like my full first name is Caspian Re but you can just call me Caspian or Cas. Re just makes it fancy and pretty cause I like it.

and at this point, I thought I was pretty secure in my gender and my sexuality. I had been bisexual for years. I was confidently trans masc, but then Kylux happened. Yes I’m genuinely being serious. Kylux is how I figured out my true identity.

the thing is with Hux is I experienced a level of gender envy with him that I had never experienced before. Sure I had had gender envy before, but he actually kind of looked like me. A.k.a. he’s just a ginger. But he also kind of looked like the image I had of myself in my head. So I read these MLM fics vicariously living through him. I feel like I should’ve chosen a more morally sound character but here we are. And it was through reading these fanfiction, particularly explicit ones funny enough, that I realized that I was a man. And my attachment to my femininity Didn’t have anything to do with my gender. (even though that is something I still struggle to realize at times because I kind of hate men) My want to have kids was not something that made me any less of a trans man, which is also something a certain fanfic Trope taught me. And also, I realized I was gay because I read a gender bent lesbians version of Kylux and realized you know what I really am not attracted to women in that way I really just thought they were hot all this time. And I mean, yeah sure I dated someone that thought they were a woman and then a fem gender fluid person but they know they’re trans masc now so I think I was just a bit early 🤷

there are definitely still obstacles in my journey. I’m not currently in a place where I can be out to my family. My mother knows I am bisexual. She does not know that I am trans and actually gay. I did get my name changed on my dormitory door to my preferred name and my parents unfortunately saw the email where I asked for the name change and referred to my birth name as my dead name. They called me about it, and I kind of brushed off the conversation saying I refuse to talk about it and reassuring them that I did not “ think I was a boy”.

Since they kind of know now I’ve been kind of loosely hiding it, making less of an effort to hide my preferred name or the few trans flags I have, even though I’m always constantly anxious about it. maybe I want to warm them up to it I’m not really sure it’s never gone well for me. Or maybe I’m just tired of hiding. I thought maybe my mom was making some progress because she has no problem referring to my trans friends as their preferred name and pronouns. And my mom did call me Re before I told her she didn’t have to. But just this weekend we had a very tough conversation and it was brought up.

She had found out that I had shipped Kylux the day prior and so we were on the topic of sexuality and she did some weird thing of trying to convince me that being gay was unnatural, which I won’t get into because it was a very awkward conversation. But I reaffirmed to her that I was gay and she panicked for a second. Not realizing that it was an umbrella term and I still meant I was bi, even though I really didn’t. She thought I was telling her that I was a guy who liked guys, which isn’t what I was telling her even though it’s true. I thought I had maybe dodged a bullet there. After denying again that I didn’t think I was a boy. But then she brought up my preferred name again.

I don’t know if she realizes I’m trans or if she thinks I just chose to change my name as that’s what I originally told her a lot of of my trans friends did because I didn’t want her to know that they were trans but I still wanted her using their actual names. She said me calling my birth name A dead name was really hard for her as it felt like I was saying her child was dead. While I felt how she worded It was a bit crazy and honestly cliché of transphobic parents, I do understand that it is hard for her to make that change. And she did choose that name so I can see why she would be hurt by me wanting to change it.

I just explained to her to keep calling me my dead name because honestly, it feels weird for my parents to call me my preferred name, especially when I know that they don’t support me in that. I thought I might be able to to make headway on the topic of LGBTQ with her in that conversation, but I did not and we ended up just having to say to agreed to disagree.

She told me she wanted me to be open and tell her everything and I told her that I felt like I couldn’t do that. And I told her directly how her homophobia contributed to my poor mental health, but she couldn’t denounce her beliefs All she could do was reaffirm that she loved me no matter what and I do believe that, but that doesn’t mean I can fully be myself around her because I know she doesn’t accept that part of me so that’s never going to be something I’m comfortable with sharing around her. Which is sad because I know she’s sad that I won’t be able to do that and we are really close to each other in every other regard.

And it is really sad to me that I probably will never be able to be fully out to my parents. My mom is one thing, but my dad is worse than her. I don’t even know if he knows that I’m gay. Because when I told my mom, she told me in tears almost sounding scared not to tell my dad. And even if my sister does accept me for being trans and gay and is very supportive of it She still constantly worries about the possibility of me not being Christian. Because my family has deeply embedded the idea that you go to hell if you’re not, and she doesn’t want me to suffer. Of course it doesn’t make that feel good that she thinks that but at least she doesn’t think my queerness is whats sending me to hell.

This weekend I’ve kind of realized that I just have to accept that I kind of am going to be an outcast. I know it sounds cliché, but I went to my sister’s choir concert and as I was watching her stand up there, my beautiful, cis, het, Christian, aspiring valedictorian, younger sister, and realized that I was the black sheep of the family. (this is not me being jealous of my sister. By the way I was very happy for her. That’s just what made me realize it) I can’t really change that I’m never going to be able to be myself around my parents and I have to be OK with that so that I can move on.

Unfortunately, I’m not yet at that point. And with the current political climate of today, I’m just depressed and tired. I constantly feel like everyone is out to get me and everyone hates me for being who I am because transphobia is so normalized now. And all of the transphobia I see online has only made me more dysphoric about my body. I hate my chest. I hate my hips. I hate my anatomy, my hair cut, my face, I want to just snap my fingers and change it all, but I know I can’t do that. I also know that there’s possibilities of me not liking what I look like or losing my hair which is my favorite part about me if I go on T, surgery is something expensive and scary and I don’t know if I can do that, and all of that I’d have to wait a long time for because I’m not financially independent I’m in college. My parents would know I’m doing that and also I want my own kids so some surgeries would have to wait a really long time. So it all just seems impossible.

I can try to do a little things to help me be more confident in my body But half the time I only feel like I’m pretty when I put makeup on but at the same time it’s still kind of dysphoric for me as it makes me look more feminine, and I don’t want that. I started hating my voice even more, but when I try to masculinize it, I just cringe at myself. And I know these things aren’t going to change anytime soon. I know the world is not going to change anytime soon and it’s just going to get harder for people like me. But I hope maybe sharing my story, even though it’s bleak at the moment, can help someone figure out their own. And being able to say that I’m trans and that I am a man does give me joy.

#trans #trans visibility #trans identity #trans male #lgbtq #my story #tw: depression #tw dysphoria #tw transfobia #tw homophobia #tw religion #serious #tw vent #long post

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burning-bubble-tea · 9 months ago

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I follow this one person who gives an advice column mostly concerning how to navigate different social situations (oh look that’s probably a sign for something…. Anyway) and often times the discussion of friendship breakups are mentioned.

They’re usually described as dramatic and painful but the friendship breakups I’ve had were quiet and unexpected. And frankly is mainly because it’s a drift away and I there wasn’t a confrontation.

Like it makes sense, I’m not a confrontational person and I do believe that those friendships had a place in my life so happily, I don’t regret the time and money I spent on that relationship because relationships are not purely transactional.

One person i essentially made friends with because she provided me with a service and we became friends through that. I’ll always remember our time together fondly it’s just unfortunate that she’s a deeply hurt person and she was starting to lash out at me in ways that showed how incompatible we were.

The other friendship breakup was weird because it wasn’t really me that went through the breakup. Frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if this person still thought we were friends, just that I was still in a social circle they burned a bridge.

They still like my Instagram posts but they never said anything to me. It kinda goes to show how I don’t really matter to them in their current stage of life which is fine.

Our friendship did reach an awkward business phase where every interaction felt increasingly like distant small talk when we used to be able to talk to each other so easily.

I do miss those times but they also sort of developed into a person that was incompatible with who I became. The proceeding years before they burnt the bridge with the friend group they were really bothering me. It was hard to put a finger on as it was a multitude of actions that made me feel certain ways. It was sort of like a bunch of tiny cuts that slowly became infected.

I smiled and stayed silent as I thought the behaviour that was making me upset and annoying me was just me being unsympathetic and hateful and I do regret all the time I felt feeling guilty for having feelings. I never lashed out which wouldn’t have been a valid response but I didn’t allow myself to fully feel annoyed, upset and frustrated and so most of those emotions festered.

When they burnt the bridge they did the breakup with someone else and I was just not even talked to. After spending half a decade being their close friend, all it took was two years of them becoming close to someone else to completely forget me. Which doesn’t exactly feel great.

I’m overall happy I didn’t receive a burnt bridge treatment. But also it would’ve been nice for the time that we spent together to be acknowledged one way or another.

Like I know it would’ve been more hurtful to be treated that way but I guess the grass is greener on the other side.

It’s just weird how quickly I was discarded. We were still in the same friend group, it wasn’t like we drifted away. We primarily drifted away in the sense that we didn’t call each other all the time. But it felt like all of a sudden I wasn’t invited anymore. And being a least favourite friend of most every friend group I was in in my childhood, it didn’t exactly bubble up pleasant memories.

I had such a hard time having a close friend in my childhood. I was close with my neighbourhood friends but they went to different schools as me and we naturally drifted apart once we stopped playing outside as often.

One girl I got close too got ill and became homeschooled.

My closest friend from preschool moved away at the end of kindergarten. (Also her mother was very mean to mine).

Whenever I didn’t have a close friend I’d play tag with the boys but being a child that was very queer and trans but not knowing, I knew it felt very weird.

I got along with the neurodivergent boys but while we bonded, as they started feeling more comfortable in their masculinity, I become less comfortable around them.

I remember acting in a way that was weird and felt irregular and wrong for me just to fit in with the other boys.

But they stopped playing tag and started playing soccer. Grounders and pretend became childish and I definitely was not maturing as fast as them. (Though in high school I definitely matured way faster then hahahahaha)

I did have one “best friend” in elementary school but even then that only lasted a few years before I was tossed aside because I struggled to get along with others. Also he was and still is a jerk.

I was the weird lonely kid who cried a lot in elementary school. A lot of the girls liked me because I was nice (and basically one of the girls cause y’know trans kid who didn’t know they were queer and could make use of the girlies and the gays alliance) but I wasn’t a girl enough to be in the girl friend group (curse the binary gender roles of 2010’s elementary school).

But my parents always said high school would be a fresh start for me and I’d do much better there and they were fully right.

It also helped that at that point I was identifying as a gay boy (who was very much in denial and ignorance over my transness) so I was able to make connections with other queer weirdos.

That’s when I became close with the person. Five years we spend being super close. But once again they moved on and I felt sorta left behind. They were making new friends (who I was friends with as well) but they all became closer as I was left out. Primarily because I was found annoying which okay fair. I’m still annoying, I just find I don’t care too much about it anymore.

Also this is the part where I’d talk about my current close friendship I met around this time but this isn’t time for me to be sappy about that shit I’m unpacking trauma through a Tumblr post and feeling sorry for myself, no room to discuss the immense positive impact they’ve had on my life ew gross.

Anyways that was a really long tangent.

I just always feel like I’m being left behind sometimes. It’s kinda nice now. Being older, there’s so many different avenues to go to and so many people are healing their inner child and it isn’t seen as bad to be a bit immature as an adult. It’s whimsy or whatever rather than cringe. Obviously depending hahahah, if you’re still being mean and rude in ways children are that’s pretty cringe. But being sad or happy in the way children are, well that’s not too bad is it. It’s very healing.

I dunno, I’ve mostly come to peace to my terrible time in elementary school. And my bad relationships in high school (though overall high school was way better for me and that’s primarily due to how awful elementary school was)

Either way now the little awkward annoying queer kid is out at the club with the other queerdos. Drinking water and standing at the edge of the mosh pit having a great time.

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chronicallycouchbound · 2 years ago

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Unlucky: Protective Factors and Homelessness

Becoming homeless isn’t based in luck. The vast majority of homeless people aren’t just in unlucky circumstances. Most unhoused people I’ve interacted with are multi-marginalized, and have significant risk factors for becoming unhoused and lack supports to maintain secure housing.

The average American might be one significant event away from homelessness, sure. But the average American will also have better access to not only supportive services, but natural supports that can prevent or alleviate the toll that emergencies can have on an individual’s housing specifically. Thus, the average American won’t become unhoused.

In contrast, the average unhoused person (or person in precarious housing) doesn’t have natural supports who can provide relief for them. The average unhoused person is a part of several marginalized communities who have been systematically deprived of resources, and aren’t given true support by what few services exist to help their housing status.

My current housing is precarious. Housing my whole life always has been. My first times being homeless were before I have memories. But even as a young child, I had a solid understanding of the fact that if our house wasn’t spotless on inspection days, we would be unhoused again. It was such a routine part of life for me and my family, I didn’t even think about how the families of some of my peers were landlords.

When I first started sleeping outside, before I graduated elementary school, I met other unhoused people who all had varying risk factors. I didn’t know it at the time, but statistically, it was unlikely I would have never ended up homeless.

My ACE score is 10/10. My protective factors were 0/4. Beyond that, I was (and am) a part of other marginalized communities that I was discriminated against on the basis of, without even knowing I was a part of those groups like being queer, trans, and disabled.

While living on the streets, in shelters, couch surfing and even while doing community organizing, I watched as dozens of people became housed long before I did. The biggest running theme? Those who had natural supports, those who held privilege in our society, those were the people who became housed fastest and longest. They were often only unhoused once in their life.

But people like me, a part of many marginalized groups, no safe natural supports around, discriminated by supportive services, are the people who end up unhoused for most of our lives, and when we do gain housing, it can be taken due to events significantly smaller than the average American would normally see a housing related emergency.

For example, if I’m behind on rent, as someone who is 100% reliant on government aid programs with zero income and no family financial support, if I can’t find an emergency assistance program in time, I will lose my housing. Not only that— but my lease being in subsidized low income ADA housing and using governmental vouchers for rent means that if I’m formally evicted, it is a criminal offense. I have friends who have gone to prison for what should be minor lease violations that led to evictions, and they no longer qualify for any assistive programs for a predefined period of time (usually 5 years). Now they have a record, and have no governmental supports on top of already not having natural supports.

The housing we have is precarious, forever teetering on the edge of loss. We are so close to the safety of secure housing, it’s palpable, while being unattainable.

There are many genuine factors of luck that play into housing status, but make no mistake: Homeless/unhoused people are systemically disenfranchised.

If you’ve never been unhoused, if you’re currently in stable housing, there is a very strong likelihood that it’s because of your protective factors like natural supports and privileges in our society. You should acknowledge the reality of this, and not only name your supports as why you’re not homeless (not just luck), but also be leveraging your resources to support our community.

I created a resource for this if anyone is interested in how they can stand in solidarity with their unhoused neighbors.

More information about ACE & PCE scores can be found here.

[Pictured: an elementary school project from around 2006, from my sister. Child-like handwriting says: “My inspection is coming up. If your house is dirty you will get kicked out. If your house is clean you will get to stay in your house.” A small drawing of our house at the time is below it.]

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baeddel · 4 years ago

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Please. Please can you tell me what a baeddel is and why people (terfs?) used it in a derogatory manner on this website for a hot minute but now no one ever uses it at all

you asked for it, fucker

[2k words; philology and drama]

baeddel is an Old English word. i have no idea where it actually occurs in the Old English written corpus, but it occurs in a few placenames. its diminuitive form, baedling, is much better documented. it appears in the (untranslated) Canons of Theodore, a penitential handbook, a sort of guidebook for priests offering advice on what penances should be recommended for which sins. in a passage devoted to sexual transgressions it gives the penances suggested for a man who sleeps with a woman, a man who sleeps with another man, and then a man who sleeps with a baedling. so you have this construction of a baedling as something other than a man or a woman. and then it gives the penance for a baedling who sleeps with another baedling (a ludicrous one-year fast). then, by way of an explaination, Theodore delivers us one of the most enigmatic phrases in the Old English corpus: "for she is soft, like an adulturess."

the -ling suffix in baedling is masculine. but Theodore uses feminine pronouns and suffixes to describe baedlings. as we said, it's also used separately from male and female. but it's also used separately from their words for intersex and it never appears in this context. all of this means that you have this word that denotes a subject who is, as Christopher Monk put it, "of problematic gender." interested historians have typically interpreted it as referring to some category of homosexual male, such as Wayne R. Dines in his two-volume Encyclopedia of Homosexuality who discusses it in the context of an Old English glossary which works a bit like an Old English-Latin dictionary, giving Old English words and their Latin counterparts. the Latin words the Anglo-Saxon lexicographer chose to correspond with baedling were effeminatus and mollis, and Lang concludes that it refers to an "effeminate homosexual" (pg 60, Anglo Saxon). this same glossary gives as an Old English synonym the word waepenwifstere which literally means "woman with a penis," and which Dines gives the approximate translation (hold on tight) male wife.

R. D. Fulk, a philologist and medievalist, made a separate analysis of the term in his study on the Canons of Theodore 'Male Homoeroticism in the Old English Canons of Theodore', collected in Sex and Sexuality in Medieval England, 2004. he analysed it as a 'sexual category' (sexual as in sexuality), owing to the context of sexual transgressions in the Canons. he decides that it refers to a man who bottoms in sexual relationships with another man. i don't have the article on hand so i'm not sure what his reasoning was, but this seems obviously inadequate given what we know from the glossary described by Dines. Latin has a word for bottom, pathica, and the lexicographer did not use this in their translation, preferring words that emphasized the baedling's femininity like effeminatus, and doesn't address the sexual context at all. Dines, however, only reading this glossary, seems to decide that it refers to a type of male homosexual too hastily, considering the Canons explicitly treat them separately. both Dines and Fulk immediately reduce the baedling to a subcategory of homosexual when neither of the sources to hand actually do so themselves.

by now it should be obvious why, seven or so years ago, we interpreted it as an equivalent to trans woman. I mean come on - a woman with a penis! these days I tend to add a bit of a caution to this understanding, which is that trans woman is the translation of baedling which seems most adequate to us, just as baedling was the translation of effeminatus that seemed most adequate to our lexicographer. but the term cannot translate perfectly; its sense was derived from some minimal context; a legal context, a doctrinal context, and so forth... the way Anglo-Saxons understood sex/gender is complicated but it has been argued that they had a 'one sex model' and didn't regard men and women as biologically separate types, which is obviously quite different from the sexual model accepted today; in any case they didn't have access to the karyotype and so on. the basic categories they used to understand gender and sexuality were different from ours. in particular, Hirschfield et al. should be understood as a particularly revolutionary moment in the genealogy of transsexuality; the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft essentially invented the concept of the 'sex change', the 'transition', conceived as a biological passage from one sex to the other. even in other contexts where (forgive me) #girlslikeus changed their bodies in some way, like the castration of the priestesses of Cybele, or those belonging to the various historical societies which we believe used premarin for feminization [disputed; see this post], there is no record that they were ever considered men at any stage or had some kind of male biology that preceded their 'gender identity.' the concept of the trans woman requires the minimal context of the coercive assignment at birth and its subsequent (civil and bio-technological) rejection. i have never encountered evidence that this has ever been true in any previous society. nonetheless, these societies still had gendered relations, and essentially wherever we find these gendered relations we also find some subject which is omitted or for whom it has been necessary to note exceptions. what is of chief interest to us is not so much that there was such a subject here or there in history (and whatever propagandistic uses this fact might have), but understanding why these regularities exist.

a very parsimonious explanation is that gender is a biological reality, and there is some particular biological subject which a whole host of words have been conjured to denote. if this were the case then we would expect that, no matter what gender/sexual system we encounter in a given society, it will inevitably find some linguistic expression. if, like me, you find this idea revolting, then you should busy yourself trying to come up with an alternative explanation which is not just plausible, but more plausible. my best guesses are outside the scope of this answer...

anyway, all of this must be very interesting to the five or six people invested in the confluence of philology and gender studies. but why on earth did it become so widely used, in so many strange and unusual contexts, in the 2010s? we're very sorry, but yes, it's our fault. you see apart from all of this, there is also a little piece of information which goes along with the word baeddel, which is that it's the root of the Modern English word bad. by way of, no less, the word baedan, 'to defile'. how this defiled historical subject came to bear responsibility for everything bad to English-speakers doesn't seem to be known from linguistic evidence. however, it makes for a very pithy little remark on transmisogyny. my dear friend [REDACTED] made a playful little post making this point and, good Lord, had we only known...

it went like this. its such a funny little idea that we all start changing our urls to include the word baeddel. in those days it was common to make puns with your url (we always did halloween and christmas ones); i was baeddelaire, a play on the French poet Baudelaire. while we all still had these urls a series of events which everyone would like to forget happened, and we became Enemies of Everyone in the Whole World. because of the url thing people started to call us "the baeddels." then there was "a cult" called "the baeddels" and so forth. this cult had various infamies attatched to it and a constellation of indefensible political positions. ultimately we faced a metric fucking shit ton of harassment, including, for some of my friends, really serious and bad irl harassment that had long-term bad awful consequences relating to stable housing and physical safety and i basically never want to talk about that part of my life ever again. and i never have to, because i've come to realize that for most people, when they use the word baeddel, they don't know about that stuff. it doesn't mean that anymore.

so what does it mean? you'll see it in a few contexts. TERFs do use it, as you guessed. i am not quite sure what they really mean by it and how it differs from other TERF barbs. i think being a baeddel invovles being politically active or at least having a political consciousness, but in a way thats distinct from just any 'TRA' or trans activist. so perhaps 'militant' trans women, but perhaps also just any trans woman with any opinions at all. how this was transmitted from tumblr/west coast tranny drama to TERF vocabulary i have no idea. but you will also find - or, could have found a few years ago - i would say 'copycat' groups who didn't know us or what we believed but heard the rumours, and established their own (generously) organizations (usually facebook groups) dedicated to putting those principles into practice. they considered themselves trans lesbian separatists and did things like doxx and harass trans women who dated cafabs. if you don't know about this, yes, there really were such groups. they mostly collapsed and disappeared because they were evildoers who based their ideology on a caricature. i knew a black trans woman who was treated very badly by one of these groups, for predictable reasons. so long-time readers: if you see people talking about their bad experiences with 'baeddels', you can't necessarily relate it to the 2014 context and assume they're carrying around old baggage. there are other dreams in the nightmare.

the most common way you'll see it today, in my experience, is in this form: people will say that it was a "slur" for trans women. they might bring up that it's the root of the word bad, and they might even think that you shouldn't use the word bad because of it, or that you shouldn't use the word baeddel because it's a slur. all of this is a silly game of internet telephone and not worth addressing. except to say that it's by no means clear that baeddel, or baedling, were slurs, or even insulting at all. while Theodore doesn't provide us with a description of how we can have sex with a baedling without sinning, and it may be the case that any sexual relations with a baedling was considered sinful, sexuality-based transgressions were not taken all that seriously in those days. there was a period where homosexuality within the Church was almost sanctioned, and it wasn't until much later that homosexuality became so harshly proscribed, to the extent that it was thought to represent a threat to society, etc. and as i mentioned, there are places in England named after baedlings. there is a little parish near Kent which is called Badlesmere, Baeddel's Lake, which was recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Domesday Book (as having a lord, a handful of villagers and a few slaves; perhaps only one or two households). it's not unheard of, but i just don't know very many places called Faggot Town or some such. it's possible that baedlings had some role in Anglo-Saxon society which we are not aware of; it could even have been a prestigious one, as it was in other societies. there is just no evidence other than a couple of passing references in the literature and we'll probably never have a complete picture.

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cowboyjen68 · 3 years ago

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Hi Jen, can you tell us a bit how was the relationshiop of lesbians with trans ppl back in the day? I was reading how a lot of butch lesbians transisionated due to homophobia and were very much a par of the lesbian community even still, and i GET that you know but i feel like today we dont have the same camadarie like in the past (one or my best friends came out as a trans men and he bery much said that he feels the same for women as he did when he was a lesbian i and understand that at a certain level, but lesbian community today is not that much open witu trans men anymore)

I can only speak from my experience and the friends I have had to either transitioned after we met or before.

There have always been trans men in my circle of lesbians, even at women's festvals, gatherings and music venues. There were fewer and not medically transitioned until after 2015 or 16 that I am aware of. If I had to do a count I would say 4 or 5 in my wide circle and one in my close friend circle transitioned.

Social transitioning was pretty common but most of those acquaintences continued to use woman/female in close circles. I would often hear "I prefer to be seen as a man except in the company of only women/lesbians". They lived life being perceived as men outside the confines of places or communities where they felt safe.I didn’t hear “trans man” probably until after 2010 or later. Not that I recall. Although in fairness I lived a busy and active life and i doubt I remember every detail. It wouldn’t have occurred to me that it would be historically important, at least not in my life.

Moving as a butch woman can carry a lot of push back from society, even well meaning people as to how we can be women and still be masculine. This has been the case for as long as I have been aware of being a “tomboy” and then “not girly enough”, for me and for my friends. Sometimes it is easier (even safer) to physically and purposely support the way we are seen rather than continually try to correct others. Correcting some people that we are a woman and not a man can be downright dangerous in some circumstances so often it is risk management as a way of life.

Not one of my trans man friends who transitioned deny their connection to being butch or using butch before they decided to medically or fully socially transition. Even my closer trans man friend, younger than me by over 20 years, is quite comfortable in our comradery of shared experiences and sees no reason to deny our connection. He and I joke about how I approached him at the gas station he worked at and said “ I need more butch friends, here is my number”. We became friends from that moment on.

In younger circles, on tumblr and tiktolk (social media) I do see a powerful and stricter line drawn, a harsh denial of any ability for trans men and butches to share common past experiences or feelings. I don't know why the shift. I can't tell you what or when that happened. What I can say is it that disconnect saddens me very much.

It was the norm in my younger days for someone to use man to describe themselves pubically but privately to use butch or lesbian and no one really seemed to apply pressure either way. It came down to having friendship and trust with each other. We only knew each other in person. Internet friends or virtual connections didn't really exist to any extent so it was much easy to feel comfortable within nuanced situations since we knew each other as real full humans with complex lives and feelings.

The idea that we need to demand a firm set of roles, rules, physical attributes to a friend with whom we shared a history based on human contact, and physical realities didn't occur to me and wouldn't have if not for social media.

My trans man friendship circle is small now and likely will remain just him since the divide that is enrouraged now is someone damaging to the kind of trust and connection I want in friendships. That saddens me as well.

On an individual level lesbians I know are just fine to have trans men in their friend cirlces but the current insistance that we are completely seperate with nothing in common seems less than conducive to a healthy friendships.

It seems more of a society/community thing and less of a lesbian/trans man thing if that makes any sense.

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fregget-frou · 3 years ago

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The DAMN poly is t4t and they all hype each other up to combat dysphoria. Just in a circle complementing and assuring each other ther like it’s a competition

Some little blurbs about them:

Huxley is a trans man and transitioned when he was in middle school, his moms were really supportive and helps comfort all of them if they are feeling down. He is good vibes only and makes sure everyone takes their binders off(off they use them), take their testosterone and is just overall the best

Damien is a trans man and will fight any transphobes. He also transitioned earlier in life and his mom helped him the best he can. Is definitely involved in giving trans people more rights in both the empowered and unempowered communities. He can get really dysphoric so everyone in the poly has cuddle sessions where they watch movies to help him with it. Sends reminders to everyone to take their T on their phones

Lasko is transmasc and he only started to recently transition. He uses a binder so his partners make sure he doesn’t have it one too long and he also tries to make sure people respect them in any way he can. If someone’s feeling bad he’ll just talk about things to distract them (personally this is perfect to avoid dysphoric feelings, but it could be different for you). He also makes good tea so during movie nights everyone is even more comfy. He has a bunch of cute bandaids for T shots and they come in a variety of forms(his fav are the dinosaur ones)

Gavin doesn’t have a gender, but still uses he/they pronouns. He’s very open and is a really good pep talker when people need it. He helps with finding good clothes that make everyone feel confident and will glare at anyone who purposely misgender them. He would definitely assure everyone by using pet names and the correct pronouns (ex him just going on rants about how his handsome prince is shining in the morning, my darling is so handsome—) and it makes them all giddy

My freelancer Ben is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns. They wanted to go into fashion before DAMN they know know how to style everyone to make sure they don’t get dysphoric and does know how to do makeup well enough to make people look more masculine or just good about themselves. He’s amab so he doesn’t have to take T, but makes sure everyone’s preferred method is sorted and labeled well and easily found. He also keeps special bandaids and likes them to have a monthly theme

trans huxley trans huxley trans huxley trans huxley trans huxley

#please add on if you want to #ok but this is so funny to me because I just imagine they don’t really know everyone is trans at first #and then it’s just like “man am I the only trans person?“#and then everyone just starts to mention it #this is funny because this is my friend group it’s like we just gravitated towards eachother #most of us didn’t even know we were trans when we became friends we just started to realize we were all trans a few years later #we can sense eachother even if we don’t know ourselves lol #I love my friends sm

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sub-at-omicsteminist · 2 years ago

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Why are you atheist??

I’ve been staring at this ask for a while now since it’s such an odd thing to just ask and I was trying to figure out when I’ve ever mentioned religion so I can answer in response to what they’ve seen but I don’t know when I’ve mentioned it.

I’ve never been a person of faith, I remember in year 2 (6/7 years of age) I was at a school Mass and I realised everyone else around me believed what was being said whereas I thought what was happening was just another story. I’ve always took religious teachings as stories to teach morals and guidance but I never took them literally.

I used to attended a Greek Orthodox church on Sundays and I’m christened Greek Orthodox and I didn’t mind it because the priest was a lovely person. He would say things like Science is the pursuit of understanding Gods creation and he would talk about how important education is. But the thing that stood out to me was he once said being trans isn’t a sin, it’s the journey God planned for that Individual. So when I was younger I wasn’t aware of the more homophobic and transphobic sides of religion.

It wasn’t until I started attending the Catholic secondary that I realised that some people used religion to back up ideas of hate and I became very anti Christian and stopped attending church because as a young Queer kid the bullying and being told I’m going to hell all the time really got to me.

My mum also became very unwell, she has a chronic illness amongst many other disabilities so I also thought if there is a God he doesn’t care because why would he make a child watch there mother slowly die and loose her mind and become abusive.

I loved talking to my friends about their religions though, I’ve always been fascinated with beliefs and faith because I’ve never had any. I partook in Ramadan one year to support my friend who was finding it hard and their family invited me to Iftar and I really respected how important their faith must be for them to do this because it was very difficult. Another experience I won’t forget was watching my friends mum create a Rangoli because she put so much care and attention into it and it is still one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen because of that care that went into it.

But it wasn’t until I was 17 I started recognising not all religious people are oppressive, some people use it for oppression but if you take people individually who believe in it that’s not a bad thing.

But there are still things I don’t like, for an example at my secondary we were put into religious houses and mine was house Vanier, turns out that guy was an awful person. His name is Jean Vanier if anyone wants to look him up but it’s just disgusting. Also the priest at the Catholic Church closest to where I live was found out to be preying on children, I have no idea what happened to him in the end but it was a big deal in my town. I also live near some Jehovah’s witnesses who for a month straight harassed me after pride because I assume they saw me coming home with pride face paint and stickers on and I had leaflets about sinning coming through the letter box constantly, and even now they still bang loudly on my door to preach when I’ve explained me, my mum and dad all have diagnosed ptsd and find it distressing. My RE teacher also told our class how he pressured his friend who was SA’d into keeping her baby and he was so proud of himself and it made me feel sick, he did loose his job because he told a student they’ll die and go to hell if they take the pill even though they were taking it for medical reasons.

That’s the part of religion I hate, it’s those individuals I hate. I don’t hate religion or people who practice religion but I hate the fact those things happened.

One of the kindest adults in my life was the school Chaplin, she told me she prayed everyday for my mum to get better and she prayed for me during my exams. I spent a lot of time in the chapel because it was quiet when I was having panic attacks and she used to just sit with me and talk me through them.

I’ve lost track of what I’ve written but

I’m not anti religion. Me not being a religious person isn’t anti religion. I’m anti people using religion as an excuse to be horrible to others.

I’ve just never had any sort of beliefs, in my mind everything is just a coincidence. I don’t believe in an after life, ghosts, superstitions or anything like that either. But that’s who I am and I don’t think that should offend anyone. But I also know I could be wrong and I can’t tell anyone their religion is wrong or right because I simply don’t know that.

I think I prefer the term agnostic (a person who believes that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God) over atheist because it’s as simple as I don’t know but I don’t think anyone is wrong for having faith.

But also I want to add I’m a white person talking about religion and my experience, all over the world people have different experiences so it doesn’t actually matter what I say. I’m just answering an ask and if you ever want to talk to me about religion I’m always happy to.

#this is a long post so I’ve highlighted parts I think are important #but I also mention at the end I’m a white person and I’m also in the UK #my experience is very different #so it doesn’t actually matter what I say #religion #agnostic #atheist #tw sa mention #I think the last 4 paragraphs sum up everything quite fast #but idk #read if you want #but this isn’t intended to offend anyone #and always ask or message me if you want to talk about religion

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chipper-smol · 4 years ago

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Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws

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By @daikoski

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

-------------------------------

By @cloudcryptid

#hollowknight #hollow knight #palejesterau #telephoneknight #the pale king #lemm #ghost #hornet

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apricotbuncakes · 4 years ago

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🏳️‍⚧️ Luigi is Trans Masc 🏳️‍⚧️

Long Post!!!

Now that I have your attention, here are some reasons that I headcanon Luigi as trans, based off of my own experience as a trans masc person.

1) He ghosts hunts even when he has the option to say no.

Could this be a ‘I have to save my loved ones from danger’ or a ‘this is the right thing to do even though I’m scared’ situation? Yeah! But I’m trans and grasping for straws, so let me have this.

I put this as a reason for him being trans, because I believe he’s doing it because he’s a man and he’s ‘not supposed to be afraid’.

Luigi is assumed to be 24, and his character was first introduced in the 1980s, specifically 1983. Assuming he was 24 when the first game released, he would have been born in 1959 (feel free to check my math on that).

Although his character was introduced in the 80s where men tended to be more feminine and flamboyant, he was probably raised with the idea that men should be tough and strong, and should lead. Even if we throw release date and age aside, even if he was born in my generation, those stereotypes of men still exist and are taught within society. Even as those norms are being broken day after day, he would have still been exposed to the toxic masculinity.

Luigi, from what we’ve seen of his adventures, tends to be more scared and less ‘tough’ than what was expected of a man. From what we know of Luigi, we can safely assume that (if he was trans) he would be doing this not only for his family and friends, but to prove he was tough and strong, and that he was manly.

2) He dresses like his brother.

Yes, he is a plumber by trade, but he also ghosts hunts, and makes bank off of that. You think he would wear a different outfit when he ghost hunts simply because denim Isn’t meant for physical activity. Anyone who’s run in jeans knows that it isn’t exactly meant to be stretchy. It’s (supposed to be) designed to withstand the test of time. So why doesn’t Luigi change from plumbing cloths (specifically his denim overalls) to something more suited for the running he has to do in various places for ghost hunting? Because Mario wears overalls and a t-shirt.

From what I’ve seen on social media, other trans people follow the lead of those around them who match their gender identity/their presentation. I would do the same was well. I would look at what my dad wore, what my brother would wear, and what guys at school wore. I developed my style after what I had seen, so I could pass.

While you don’t have to pass to be trans (or even have the desire to), it’s a common theme amongst trans people to try and blend in with cis society. This can be for safety reasons, or just because they want to fit in with their peers.

Luigi clearly looks up to his brother, crying tears of joy whenever Mario is saved from King Boo. He congratulates him when he wins events. He supports him, because he looks up to him. They’re brothers after all!

It makes sense that Luigi would mirror Mario, since they are so close. Since Mario is most often seen wearing his overalls, Luigi follows suit, because it’s what he believes guys do. He’s following the example that Mario set for him.

3) Luigi’s view on gender expression.

Luigi has had a couple of instances where he is known to ignore typical gender stereotypes, specifically with dresses.

In the game super Mario Odyssey, Mario can be seen wear a wedding gown with a veil, and Luigi is only concerned that Mario didn’t tell him about the wedding. There was no wedding, and Luigi didn’t mock Mario when informed that his brother was wearing the gown for fun.

The second major instance is from the New Super Mario Bros. U Deluxe website. The website tells us that only Toadette can use the Super crown. The last part of the Super Crown’s description says “Sorry Luigi- Only Toadette can use this item!”

While this could point to Luigi being trans fem instead of trans masc, I would like to point out that recently, it has become more accepted that men can dress feminine. Since this game was released in 2019, it’s completely possible that Luigi has caught onto this, and is becoming more accepted and accepting of his femininity as a man. This would also be plenty of time to unlearn harmful stereotypes from when he was younger, about what men can and can’t do. Although he still sticks with old habits, he’s learning more about how the world around him works, and how it’s changing day by day.

I believe that Luigi has a better understanding of gender and gender expression because he is trans. He’s learning to accept that he doesn’t have to be hyper masculine to be a valid guy.

4) How he got his mustache and flat chest (and… other stuff).

This section will be discussing the effects of hormones, surgeries, and genitalia. Please keep this in mind as you read.

This is more of an explanation for how certain things happened.

How did he grow a mustache? Testosterone. It was likely after helping his brother with his career, and winning sporting events he had a good amount of income to start Testosterone. Another option? Minoxidil. Minoxidil was tested to see if it could cure ulcers in the 50s. Through testing, The Upjohn Company discovered it opened blood vessels and allowed for blood to flow more smoothly. In the late 70s, it was FDA approved for patients to use if they suffer from high blood pressure. Through this, they discovered that minoxidil also has the side effect of hair growth. The FDA approved the product to be sold, and it was called Rogaine. Meaning Luigi would have had access to something to grow facial hair, even if testosterone wasn’t an option.

What about his flat chest?

Binding or Top surgery. Both were an option by the time Luigi was old enough. Laurence Michael Dillon was a trans person who was born in 1915 and died in 1962. While I do recommend you look at more of his story, what I want to focus on is the fact he had top surgery. While the surgery was still fairly early in it’s development, it was possible. Luigi, who wasn’t born until 1959 (as previously discussed) would have the option to get top surgery when he became an adult.

Another option would be binding, though I think this is less likely because of how binding restricts physical activity. Binding in any way makes it difficult to run or exert yourself in general. We see Luigi run a LOT in various games, and for decent amounts of time too. It’s less likely that he’s binding.

The last thing is his penis.

There was a huge joke going around about the bulge we saw in a promotion for Mario Tennis Aces. People were discussing how large it was, and Even Mattpat on Game Theory discussed the measurements to determine how large it was.

Why was it so noticeable? Well bottom surgery was also an option for him pretty early on. Surgeons (from what I’ve been told be social media) will ask how you’d like to look like. Even if he decided to not get bottom surgery, he could be wearing a packer.

A packer is anything you use to give the feeling and or appearance of a penis, specifically used by trans masc people who were not born with a penis. There are many different types of packers (including clean rolled up socks) that people may use. What’s most important to note though, is they have a high chance of moving around.

Even with harnesses or underwear specifically designed to keep a packer in place, they can still shift around in your pants, especially when you’re doing a lot of moving. From my experience, my packers tent to move forward rather than back. Wearing athletic shorts will also make that area more pronounced as the fabric is looser, so if Luigi was wearing a packer, we’d know.

5) He’s trans cause I say so.

Like I said in the beginning, it’s a head canon. I say he’s trans because it’s a cool idea. A Nintendo character that is trans, and isn’t being hidden, explained away, or made fun of (like Vivian from Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door). I like the idea that Luigi is a proud trans guy, and we don’t know because it doesn’t matter. He’s a guy because he’s a guy. He doesn’t just ‘become’ a guy because he goes through surgeries or goes in hormones. He’s trans, and t doesn’t matter if we know or not, because his trans identity isn’t important to the story we’re playing, or our knowledge to know. We aren’t entitled to it.

He’s a guy who happens to be trans, and that’s that.

If there is any misinformation above, please let me know so I can correct it. This was meant to be a fun post about my head canon, but I did use real world examples t explain it, and if I got something wrong, I’d like to know. Thanks!

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