#punk he/him butch lesbians save me

[your-average-art-dealer]

Most of the time I have more of an "mlnb" kinda vibe- but other times? I'd be down to yuri fr

[punkeropercyjackson]

Percy Jackson as a character and as a narrative is just so inherently transfem.The whole point is Percy never does anything wrong,she never meant to hurt anyone,she always tried to be a good,GOOD kid but everyone treated her like a monster just because she exists.There's nothing wrong with her,she's not a bad person and she never was or will be but that didn't stop all her classmates from bullying her over clocking her as a 'weirdo' for in-universe no explained reason except she's so different from everybody,even other half-bloods,and it absolutely plays into her audhd she never learned how to mask but seperating autism and transfeminism is bad faith at the absolute best

Her biggest abuser was her stepdad and her only supporter was her mom.Her birth dad is deadbeat who called her 'a mistake' to his misogynistic brother to save face and he's the god of the sea,which holds boundless femininity to it in symbolism,aesthetics and folklore or mythology if you will.She's a 2000s punk who was a bully beater during her entire school career but wanted to live just a happy normal teenage(girl)hood she never got-The gods,authority figures,older men in her life stole it from her.Percy is perpetually framed as the greatest of all time due to not being like traditional greek male heroes,never are the greek female heroes painted in a bad light!!!, and it was the actual plot of The Titan's Curse,notably the book where Percy officially became a teenager.The SECOND Percy entered the cusp of puberty,she went on a quest for an archaic group of lesbians that protect young women abused by men to prove herself as nothing like (implied) cis men.Percy herself is textually a trauma misandrist who hates masculinity and is enchanted by the femininity of her fellow (out) women every time she meets one and is canonically insecure about her looks too.'Almost' as if she's revolted at the idea of having to present masculinely and wants to present femininely so she can be pretty like a girl and not manly like a boy

Her lack of masculinity is explicitly commented on twice,both times by canonical queer characters:Piper,who is a butch unlabeled wlw and dubbed her 'unimpressive' in terms of masculinity compared to what she'd heard at Camp Half-Blood(accidental meta commentary?)and Nico,who is gay and realized he never actually had a crush on Percy but on the ideallic man he projected onto her.Nico and Percy have history that goes way back to TTC and a platonic cosmic connection they wove for themselves completely accidentally yet all on purpose and she compared her treatment of him to acting like a mom and even canon itself couldn't make them them hate eachother despite Rick's attempt at retconning their relathionship and they're extremely eldest daughter/middle brother-coded(speaking from experience btw).With the exception of Nico and Grover-an effeminate boy she stood up for from getting picked on for being 'wimpy',all of Percy's friends growing up were girls and this includes her ex-turned even closer-friend Rachel,who falls under many irl lesbian norms,including her type of femininity and a common transfem experience is the canon Perachel dynamic.Her most common clothing item is hoodies and one of her pet's is technically trans(Blackjack)and Aphrodite told her she needs to stop trying to be something she's not to be truly beautiful and 'The sea does not like to be restrained' is a quote said to describe her and her intro book had a title about cheeseburgers(sorry,had to include that joke)

I always thought Percy Jackson made the most sense as a female character when i first read the books,all the way back in elementary school.And now that i've grown up and fully discovered and embraced my own transgenderism(albeit it was transmasc femme gender fuckery),i know she does.Percy's 'not' 'like' a girl to me,Percy IS a girl to me.And she should be to everyone else /threat

[seeminglydark]

Wait I'm out of the lore, so detention punk boy is actually a butch lesbian?

Not canonically nope, I know this picture is tagged as lesbian art a LOT (hello lesbian side of tumblr I see you, I love you) which is totally cool by me, I like letting people see what they want in that image since it’s so ambiguous, BUT if you’re looking for the actual lore and canonical queerness:

The punk is panromantic ace gnc (gender not conforming) he/him, his name is Sully and goes by John as an adult.

And the cheerleader is closeted trans/masc who hasn’t had a chance to discover themself yet (in the story goes from she to he to they) Their name is Caro (or Carrie or affectionately Angel)

They are characters from my webcomics Seemingly Dark, and Mil-Liminal and my podcast Mil-Liminal. The lore is that they are next-door neighbors and besties since childhood, both have rough home lives, and plan to one day run away together and save themselves. Oh…and Caro’s soul is an interdimensional gateway to the In-Between Places, (did I mention it’s technically a horror story?) fancy way of saying they can see ghosts and get possessed a lot ha.

anyway, some art, teen years and adulthood!

Thank you for the ask!

[dropitdoeeyes]

And here’s a small alter intro. Our Mechanisms fictives front the most, so you’ll usually be seeing us around.

Intros are under the cut. vv

🌠 Lyfrassir Edda

They/Them (They/She if we're close.)

Primary gatekeeper, persecutor/protector, BPD holder.

Lyfrassir Edda fictive. (TBI)

Rock ptarmigans are my favorite birds.

My current favorite song is Horseshoe Crab by Slothrust.

🦈Deli/Io

They/Cie

Host? kind of

Brain made :D I get frontstuck a lot

Bigender aromantic butch lesbian yayy

pigeon pit my 1 true love pigeon pit save me pigeon pit

gener;al folk punk enjoyer

i really like sharks and fish and ocean critters and buggies and i like linguistics a lot linguisticds is really cool god i love wordds

lyf is my parent. they have no choice in the matter btw

🧪 Raphaella La Cognizi

She/They

NPD holder

Raphaella La Cognizi fictive (It’s what it says on the tin! ;))

Genuinely and unironically the most normal mentally stable person in the system. (Help)

I front very often! It’s a fun time

Intrested in everything science, specifically fixated on all works of biology at the moment. Avid genetics fan

No/low empathy. Fluctuates, slightly

Very open to any questions, I love talking to people and I love talking about myself <33

🪦 Yrsa

They/Them

Holder for DPDR, bipolar, psychosis (+psychotic symptoms), delusions & paranoia. Some kinda cluster b clusterfuck going on

Not a fictive, just here :)

If I was a TMA avatar I’d either be end or vast aligned

I like making music! I take most of my inspiration from bands like Black Dresses and Rosegarden Funeral Party

Very intrested in astronomy and pretty much everything space

💥 GPT

ask for pronouns (or just they/them. but id rather people ask.)

anger holder

gunpowder tim fictive

i like corvids, jays, specifically. i can make a really good crow call

don’t ask me why everyone defaults to talking about their favorite birds when they dont know what to say. i wish i knew.

i assigned birds to all the mechs, though, please ask me about that. hell, i’ll assign you a bird. i don’t even know you but you’re a bird in my heart

📖 Ivy

She/Her, He/Him, any neopronouns

ISH, academic, memory holder

Ivy Alexandria fictive

Open to questions, not as open to chatting.

I like The Mountain Goats.

And here’s everyone else:

Arthur - HNOC - He/Him

Ashes - The Mechs - Anger holder/protector/NPD holder They/Them

Bea - NITW - Anger holder/protector - She/Her

Drumbot Brian - The Mechs - Caretaker - Questioning

Small Jonny - Mechs - He/Him

Josie - She/Her

Laika - Trauma holder - It/Its

Lancelot - HNOC - Protector - They/He

Mae - NITW - Protector/trauma holder/DPDR holder - She/They

Marius - The Mechs - Any pronouns but get silly with it

Nastya - The Mechs - Protector - She/They

Pando - Secondary gatekeeper - No pronouns/name pronouns

Small Raph - Mechs - She/Her

The Aurora - The Mechs - Secondary gatekeeper - She/It

Toy Soldier - The Mechs - It/Its

Hey! We’re the Doe Eyes System, here’s a short intro post since it’s about time.

What to expect on our blog? -

OC and fandom art (Mostly The Mechanisms)

Speculative biology / evolution and worldbuilding

HNOC comic work

Posts about disability & MH

About us -

We’re a fictive heavy DID system

Autistic

Mixed

Physically disabled

Some of our intrests are: Insects, biology, goth music and history, poisons, medicinal history, sharks, dinosaurs and The Mechanisms !

Feel free to pop us any questions, we don’t bite :))

[gwydionmisha]

Real Talk About the ‘80′s

Some of us were asked about what the '80's were like with specific reference to the queer experience in a context I don't want to get into.  I think some of the stuff I wrote might be of interest to some of you who are too young to really remember or who weren't alive yet.  This shit is pretty dark and there are references to slurs and violent queer bashing, so skate at your own risk.  Since this was part of a long conversation with more than one person, in some spots I'm responding to comments from someone who's comments you can't see.  I'm often answering questions that are specific, so certain bits are narrower than they might have been if I hadn't been answering a specific redacted question.  We are talking about what people specifically in 1989 might have lived through, so there are some references that circle that date, but the commentary goes into the '90's because culture doesn't draw hard lines at decade's end  (Anything Second College is the first half of the ‘90′s).  I am shaving off some of the identifiers and making similar small edits for privacy and clarity.  If you quote me, credit me.  No other permission required.  

I think it's important we talk about this stuff because otherwise the history gets lost.  

People literally died to get us here.  WE DO NOT WANT TO GO BACK!

I can't speak to west coast high school and college experience in the '80's and my East Coast College didn't have frats, though it did had a dorm that everyone joked was one. East Coast style, you sort of had this big split between the guys who were here and queer get used to it, and this large body of people out quietly to friends but not loud about it. Things were more open in a few years, but the '80's gay yuppie mindset was people were literally getting fired if the wrong people knew about it, so the guys I went to school with were publicly downlow, but had political consciousness and friends who knew.  (A particular lawyer)'s fear of his practice collapsing is entirely rational. Most judges are older white guys. Clients flee, courts discriminate. He's DONE if the wrong person finds out.

Bi guys were super stigmatized generally because they tended to get blamed unfairly for the Plague. The guys I knew open about it were very brave in a way never openly acknowledged.

Cops used to hunt and group beat gay men and trans women in Philly. Down in Conchy friends of friends got beaten or disappeared, likely into the river. I new a butch lesbian disappeared out of Germantown. Police were way not safe. The obvious gay man I knew down in the Neighborhoods who was safe was safe because he had a bunch of tough hetero friends who sort of body guarded him and because he had this woman he could pretend to date. Everyone knew nothing was happening there, but it saved face. Like they could all pretend they didn't know.

(Here follows a pasage I can't figure out how to anonymize with some examples of people in west Coast situations that were similar but with different details). There sometimes was a "no one beats up my little brother" or a "he's on our team sort" of mentality. It's sort of a mascot situation. (That one exceptional person is protected, but anyone else who looks not cis/straight is in danger.)

(Regarding ACT UP and Queer Nation) Being out was activism and activism was still punk.

From a 1989 perspective, things really did start to get noticeably better a few years later, and when the protease inhibitors came onto the market, things changed dramatically because people could focus on things besides triage.

A lot of stuff was word of mouth in the 80's. There was a sort of queer whisper network that would let someone find the safest places or services and where was less safe to go.

I think the thing that's really hard to convey to people who aren't our agish is how fundamentally unsafe everything was. We pretty much assumed that if the Plague didn't get us, the bombs would right up until the soviet Union collapsed. There was this fundamental background sense that we wouldn't make it to thirty. People reacted to this in different ways, but it's the Generational subtext.

Xers are like that for a reason. Cops were dangerous unpredictable people who might help but also might beat and murder us. I think this is why my sympathy for things like the Black Lives matter movement is so visceral. Of course I have a fundamental sympathy for people still living that reality.

I loved the hair, clothes, and music, but it was fucking terrifying to live through it. You lived your whole life under constant threat of sudden violent death in a culture where your safety from toddlerhood was considered entirely a matter of your personal responsibility. People could pretty much do anything to you at any time and victim blaming said it was your fault. If you were not a rich straight able bodied cis male, there was no guarantee at all that authorities would care if something terrible happened to you. What safety you had, you had to make usually through organizing or safety in numbers.  There was this sort of huddling together of queer folk and allies.

I think the generation lines are in the wrong place. Divider for Boomer/Gen X should be whether or not you or your high school friends were in danger of being drafted or not. Divider for X/Millenial should be whether or not you grew up assuming you'd die from bomb and/or plague before you were 40.

The first person came who out to be explicitly when I was 15 literally didn't have non-pejorative language for herself until I gave it to her. (Early '90's) My only friend on my floor in my first dorm at my first West Coast College was the out bi RA. I was their only friend on the floor too. Everyone else was pledging Greek and they were so alien to us and vica versa we had no common ground at all.

(This is in response to someone else's story about the violent gay bashing of a straight student for being to pretty)  A guy in my first dorm at Second College was metrosexual a little before it was cool. Alternative style. Gorgeous, mixed race. Straight. He got beaten up by a frat coming home to the dorm at night and we had to organize protection for him walking him to and from things like the library at night because he was terrified it would happen again. I was tough and knew martial arts, so I used to be one of his guards. They called him "Faggot" when they beat him. Campus cops would do nothing. Project Safe Ride wouldn't take him because he was a man.  And this was the '90's.  It was the bi RA recruited the unofficial guards BTW. Queer folk taking care of their own. Even though the guy was straight he counted as our own.

I often say the only thing I want back from the Eisenhower Era is the top tax rate. With the '80's it's just some music and style stuff. I never the fuck want to have to live like that again and that's why I have been pretty much constantly white hot furious since November '16. I do not like not knowing if 45's going to blow us up because nuclear wars are "fun and easy to win." I am a little too young to personally remember back alley abortions, but that's living memory and I don't want to go back there and to the whole people having to talk doctors into medically necessary birth birth control because you can't just get it for sex thing my Mom's generation went through. I do not want to go back to the constant LGBTQIA+ bashing and the police murdering us for fun with no consequences. I do not want to lose what progress we've made on civil rights, accessibility, and the environment.

[lids-flutter-open]

James orsino -goth gay YA ch 5

“Hey,” Orsino said. He was smiling at me. “Nice to see you. James, right?”

“And you’re Orsino.”

“I’m Robin,” said a girl with good skin and short hair in a flat-top. She looked like a panel from a 1980s lesbian comic. “I’m Orsino’s sister.”

“Hi,” I said. “Does anyone want weed?”

They did. We smoked and January talked to Ian. I didn’t get all of what they said, but Ian was glowing. Overhead the trees dropped a few leaves and some of the pine needles from the scrubby little pine tree by the house blew over the yard and into the bonfire, sparking as they went. There were at least fifty people at the show. Probably more, inside the house and around in front where they weren’t meant to be. People were slowly trickling back around the edges of the show space in the garage, waiting for the temperature inside to finally get cool enough to repopulate. 

“So are you from around here?” I asked Orsino. “Or where?” I had given him a joint I’d rolled earlier and been carrying around in my cigarette case. He coughed a lot as he smoked.

“Down south about an hour,” Orsino said. “Near Centralia, kind of. But most of the time lately I live up in Tacoma with Robin and January. My dad owns some cows and a chicken farm and my mom is always fighting with him and it’s bad to be around. You?”

“I’m from here,” I said. “I’m in high school. One of the ones near the farms. It’s all rednecks. No gays really.”

“You go to that Compton House thing?” Orsino asked. “I know that’s like, a big thing for gay kids here. My therapist was trying to get me to go since I didn’t like the trans group in Tacoma.”

“I go,” I said. “I’m on the Speakers’ Bureau doing sex education at schools and public organizations and stuff.”

“Oh,” Orsino said. He waggled his eyebrows. “You know a lot about sex then?” He exhaled some of the smoke from his joint into my face and smiled.

“In the public health sense, anyway,” I said. “I know where to get condoms and free dental dams.” I paused. I really wanted to say something flirtatious, but wasn’t sure what to start with. “And I know from Delaney and Genet and White for the rest, though who knows what I’m missing in that sense.” I could feel my hands reach up and touch the bad little patch of stubble on my neck. I wished there was a mirror or a dark window around I could glance into to make sure I didn’t look like a fool. I crossed my legs and turned more towards Orsino.

“Don’t know who those guys are,” Orsino smirked. His eyes were really dark brown and the firelight was sort of reflected there. I couldn’t tell if he was making fun of me for the references or making fun of me for doing sex education as a teenager like some kind of Young Democrat. I didn’t know his vibe enough to tell.

“They’re all older. Delaney’s the one you’re supposed to read, I’m pretty sure,” I said. “Or at least, he’s the one most likely to have been read by hot people, from what I can tell.”

“Oh, it’s a book,” said Orsino. 

“He’s an author,” I said. “Samuel Delaney. Chip Delaney. Time Square Red, Time Square Blue. Science fiction and sexy gay memoir. Never mind. I’m stoned. I’m sorry.”

“He writes about sex and taught you sex, is what you’re saying.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he write about like specific kinks you were trying to communicate to me or something?”

I felt my face grow hot. “Public bathrooms,” I said. “Is one thing he’s very into. Not that I am. Unless you are. But that’s not—it’s just his prose.”

“Do you always give a … what’s it called. A bibliography. Do you always do that when someone asks you about sex?”

“Do you always ask boys about sex two seconds after meeting them?”

“Only when they’re hot,” Orsino said. “Then yeah, I do. Sorry, I can’t read social cues well. Was that out of line?”

“No.”

“You didn’t answer the question. You go around give out bibliographies about sex? Like that pink hair lady who draws that weird comic about sex toys online?”

“You’re the one named fucking Orsino,” I said. “Literary references are something you signed up for.” I took a hit from my pipe. I was starting to feel slightly more comfortable, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. I glanced at Orsino’s hands. The nails were short. His pinky nail on his left hand was painted black but none of the other fingernails were. There was a little stick-and-poke of a rabbit on the back of his right hand.

“Maybe I should change it,” he said. “To something butch. I can be Harry. Or Brandon.”

“A trade name,” I said. 

“A farm boy name.”

“Brandon is a G.O.P candidate name.”

“Now that’s trade.”

“What music do you like, Brandon?”

“Well, I’m here. OVID’s good. January can be a bitch a little bit, but it’s good music. And I like Dyke Drama and G.L.O.S.S, obviously. And LOONE. But also Mitski. And Blood Kennel and Limp Wrist and Dick Binge. But I also like The Shins.”

“My dad likes The Shins,” I said. “I have like a gag reflex about The Shins.” I could hear my voice, catty and faggy. “They’re such a dad band. How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen,” Orsino said.

“Okay. Well, for an eighteen-year-old you sure like dad bands.”

“It’s good music,” Orsino said. “You gotta listen to the lyrics. What about you?”

“I only listen to Ariana Grande,” I said, smirking at him stupidly and fluttering my eyelashes. I might have been being dumb, but he was still smiling at me, so I wanted to try being bolder. “And Gaga. I literally only listen to Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Pete Davidson by Ariana Grande every single day of my life. On repeat. I hate punk music.”

“Oh, really,” Orsino said in a flat-affect kind of voice. “You must be having a really interesting time here tonight then.”

“It’s really funny music,” I said. “And nobody is wearing platform boots or a rainbow pin or jewels or teal hair or anything.”

“I saw someone with teal hair,” Orsino said.

“That was me, actually. Earlier. I came with teal hair and an Ariana Grande tour shirt and changed.”

“Oh really,” Orsino said. He made eye contact with me and then slowly reached out and pulled at one of my curls. “I like what you’ve done with your hair since then. Insta-dye job to black. Insta-goth. It’s a really cute haircut on you, actually.”

“Thanks. I did it in the bathroom sink,” I said. “Just now. Using charcoal from the fire. I thought, oh no, everyone has dark hair or bad orangey dry bleach jobs. I have to fit in.”

“You’re doing good and blending in,” Orsino said. He finished the joint and ground out the end in the dirt under the stump. “Wait. Did you just neg me for my bleach job?” 

I felt my face fall. “What?”

“You said bad bleach jobs and looked at my hair. Were you making fun of me for my bleach job? You know, negging me? I know it’s all dry forest fire thatch up here.”

“I guess I did,” I said. I looked at his hair and back at his eyes. 

“Didn’t expect you to be acting like a straight English major goth at a sorority party over here,” Orsino said. “Calling all the girls ugly cause you think it’ll make them like you.”

I swallowed. “You’re right. That was cruel of me. I made fun of your name, earlier, too, and that was wrong. I shouldn’t be mean to cute boys.” 

“And my music taste.”

“That’s just a difference of opinion.”

Orsino looked at me like a cat playing with a mouse, but in a friendly way. “You were very cruel about my hair, though. I feel so small.”

“Sorry. It’s a bad habit. You can do two negs for me now. Tell me I’m ugly so you can hit on me better.”

“Hm,” Orsino said. He swung one hairy leg over the stump so half of him was in shadow under the trees and his right foot was nestled in the ivy and broken glass that lay all along the perimeter of the Goat Mansion yard. “Well, you aren’t ugly, so I can’t do exactly that. Maybe I want to save my negs. Find your weak spots and then go in for the kill.”

“I’m shaking,” I said. 

“Okay. I have one. My first one is that your mustache sucks. It’s like really cute that you’re trying it and I know what you’re going for, and the concept is attractive to me, and I like your philtrum, but it’s a bad mustache.”

“Ooh. Ouch. That stings,” I said. “I think it stings more because of all the compliments you threw in with it to cushion it.” But I scooted closer to him.

“I can do more.” He looked at me hard. “If you consent. I can be meaner about it.”

“About my mustache? Okay,” I said. “But I might be hurt and never speak to you again.”

“You’re trying to look like Freddie Mercury or something, right? You look like a summer camp counselor from the 1980s.”

“Ouch! You sure snatched my wig.” I put on a faggy voice. It kind of did sting to hear him say that, though also I knew that my mustache amounted to about twenty-four downy bad little hairs. But I guess I deserved it.

“See how it feels?” Orsino scooted a little closer. I found myself appreciating how broad his shoulders and torso were compared to mine. I looked at his smile. His canines were a little crooked.

“I actually am a summer camp counselor,” I said. “During the summer.”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

“I can give you another weak spot,” I said. “I’m a nerd and I used to be a horse girl. Got any horse related disses?”

“It doesn’t count if you give them to me. That’s a self defense maneuver. Also I don’t know if you’re even telling the truth. It’s gotta be something you’re sensitive about.”

“Are you sensitive about your hair and your name?”

“Yes! I’m a punk. My image is very important to me. Talking shit on my hair was mean. You started this whole battle.”

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry already. But give me time to recover from your first cutting remark before you do any more to me.” I put away my pipe. I glanced briefly over at Ian. Jukebox had left and now he was talking to Opal and Robin a few feet away. I felt like socially I was obligated to join their shit instead of sitting here talking to this boy I didn’t really know yet. At least so I could be up on the whole deal with Miss San Juan and the Dusties or whatever the new band was called. “Do you want to meet my friends?” I asked Orsino, standing. 

“Sure,” he said. He pulled himself up. “Hey, you’re not really hurt about the mustache thing, right?” He wasn’t smiling as much any more.  “I was just playing around. Your mustache is fine. It looks like every other high school punk’s mustache. Better than some. Better than mine. And you’re cute. You pull it off pretty good.”

I realized he thought he had misstepped and now I’d lost interest. I felt a flutter in my stomach. 

“It’s a really sensitive topic for me because of my gender dysphoria,” I said in a deadpan voice. I walked over to Ian and Opal and Robin.

Orsino followed me, squinting a little as if he couldn’t tell if I was joking. He put his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants.“Are you serious?” He asked.  "I’m sorry, I…”

“I won’t ever forgive you. Hey, meet my friends. Here are my friends Opal and Ian, who I guess have a band now.”

Ian paused. He had been saying something to Robin about some music stuff. I wasn’t sure what equipment they were talking about but it had hertz. He looked over to Orsino and then me and raised his eyebrows. 

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Miss San Juan, otherwise known as Ian. You saw me set up and then saw my set just now. You were jumping. Didn’t get your name.”

“I was indeed jumping,” Orsino said. “It was a pretty good show for how messy it seemed like things were before it started. You did good. You have a great stage presence. I’m Orsino.” He held out his hand, arcing his arm out for a man-handshake. 

Ian placed his delicate little hand in Orsino’s big one like a princess greeting her security guard. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Orsino,” Orsino said again to Opal, holding out his hand again. For the first time I realized he was maybe kind of too stoned.

“I’m Opal,” said Opal. “I’m a drummer and use they/them pronouns and I’m really hungry for some trash food right now. Does anyone else want food?” They looked at me and then at Orsino. “You both look like you want some trash food.”

“Fuck yeah,” Orsino said. “Do we know when the next show starts, though?”

“There’s the gas station that doesn’t sell beer around the corner that way,” Opal said. “They have chips and sometimes hot dogs and pizza. We’ll be quick.”

“Let’s go,” Orsino said. He put his arm around my shoulders and set off toward the edge of the yard as if we had been walking together like that everywhere for years, as if he had touched me before.

“I don’t think I want food right now,” Ian said. “I’ll stay here.” He had a sort of quiet, wan tone in his voice that made me pause.

“Oh,” I said, and dug my feet into the ground to stop and pulled away from Orsino’s arm. I looked from Orsino to Ian. I didn’t want to leave Ian standing here alone right after his big set. “Ian, are you sure? You’ll need calories in a little bit.”

“I just feel like standing and smoking for a second in the quiet over here by the fence,” Ian said. 

“Quieter out by the gas station,” I said.

“I don’t feel like walking.”

“I’ll stay here too then,” I said. 

“I’m still going,” Orsino said. “I’m genuinely hungry.”

“Come on, then, big papa,” Opal said. “Let’s get some cheese fuel.” They turned their chair and wheeled fairly rapidly across the grass. 

[punkgemjasper]

This is not a fun post...

Seriously. I need to vent some stuff out and it’s going to get pretty heavy. Like, this is purely ramblings from my brain and from someone who is sick of everything in her life, barring say...a few exceptions (my girlfriend, online friends, like 2 friends who don’t do any of the things I’m about to say) I don’t expect anyone to read this, and that isn’t the point. I just want to scream at something that my  ‘friends’ and my ‘family’ won’t see because a lot of what I have to say is about them.  You’ve been warned if you read what I have to say... 

First things first, a little bit about myself. I’m 25, a pansexual lesbian, and I’m butch. I’m a big girl, who’s been struggling with her weight since she was diagnosed with PCOS at the age of 16. I look intimidating, I look strong.  I’m pretty much the very stereotypical looking ‘Butch Lesbian’ ...I get confused with a man a LOT. I am also someone who suffers from chronic pain. I have fibromyalgia, an ongoing stomach problem that means I can’t eat properly if at all some days, depression, but the kind of depression that I’ll have for the rest of my life, on top of an anxiety disorder, and anger management problems. It makes me feel like I’m some kind of roadmap of problems.  Now, you see, there is an issue with being a butch girl. Can you figure that out? It ties in with a lot of the above problems, I have to appear strong. I have this unwritten obligation to the world that I’m not allowed to show emotions or cry because that would mean I appear weak in the eyes of everyone. It’s a problem that I’m probably not alone on honestly. So can you imagine my struggle when I need some help, a shoulder to cry on that isn’t my girlfriend, because I don’t want to put her through any more of my crying, just a friend who’s there for me.  A lot of my friends, they all advocate against suicide, they all preach about going to get help, but when someone they know is actually suffering, they don’t give a shit. The last time I spoke up about my depression, and how badly I was treated by the mental health care team at the hospital you know what I got?  My head bitten off for being appalled by the way I was being treated, like the fact I was complaining about the NHS and a supposed ‘mental health worker,’ who only wanted to berate my family, who at the time could not help me, my dad was dying from stage 4 lung and brain cancer, my mum is legally blind, neither of them can drive and I was in no state to be anywhere near trains, let alone travel the 2 hours it takes for me to get back to my parents. Hell, the reason I was at the hospital in the first place was that I was going to find a way to do some serious harm to myself. You know who calmed me down in the end and stopped me? My girlfriend. My mum. An A&E nurse had more empathy and understanding than the actual psychologist they threw at me.  Or whenever I speak up, I get ignored, or slapped down and told ‘you’re feelings are not as bad as my feelings,’ constantly, by a lot of people in my life. Like I’m not allowed to feel pain, or depressed or anything.  It was meant to be my dad’s birthday yesterday, it was hard, I didn’t bother saying anything about it, not properly, because no one would care. When I did say something, only ONE person actually made sure I was okay, a friend in America who never even knew my dad, do you know how badly I wanted to be with them? Just so I could have that needed support, a drink and a hug? Not a single one of my friends in England gave a fuck. No one thought to just ask if I was doing okay.  That’s a running theme and it’s a cycle I have to keep explaining to any professional I end up talking to...I speak up, I get slapped down, so then I don’t speak up so I don’t get slapped down...see how that can damage someone? No one knows just how bad I am because I can’t tell them just how bad I am.  Mum knows, she knows just how bad I can become but recently, she just...doesn't care as much as she used to. These days, our conversations just seem to be about her new ‘boyfriend,’ or borrowing money from me. Most of the time it is to help feed the dogs, granted, I love my dogs, even Ludo who isn’t 100% there with trusting me yet, I’d give everything I had for them, but it’s getting to the point of where I want to sit my own mother down and go through her payments like she did with me years ago, it becomes a problem you get jaded to.  So I don’t bother to say how bad my depression is because, like the above with my friends, I tend to get ignored, slapped down with the ‘me too’, or worse...told to grow up and stop being dramatic. Something I’ve been told since I was a child and this is what it has done to me.  Created an irrational fear of opening up to anyone, so when I do get bad, I explode. I explode in such a way that I hurt myself, end up having to need help from either my GP or the hospital, and then someone finally fucking realises...but even then I get no help. Or at least no the right kind of help, that I keep having to tell them.  Being talked to like I’m an idiot when I’m debating if I should throw myself in front of a bus, isn’t fun. The line, ‘Oh you’ll be fine soon, it says in your notes you do this kind of thing a lot,’ will ALWAYS haunt me. That was what someone who was a MENTAL HEALTH CARE NURSE said to me. While I was shouting at him that I didn’t need an ‘autism specialist,’ that my autism isn’t the cause of my suicidal depression, that my years of being bullied, abused and ignored was the cause, but he didn’t give a shit. Kept speaking down to me...yet again. The one who stopped me was my girlfriend.  But you see, I don’t cut myself, I don’t overdose, I don’t do any of that...I punch things, I break my knuckles, over and over again. But the frustration builds up and I lash out. It’s scary, I understand that it is, anyone who’s seen my rare selfies, can see why it’s so scary...but they can’t see past that to stop me, from doing it in the first place. ...Except for my girlfriend.  (It all keeps coming back round to her, she’s currently the only one I can confidently say, is keeping me from doing something fucking stupid. And I know for a fact she’ll read this, please don’t worry. I know you will. But I’m not going to do anything stupid, I’m not going to hurt myself. I just need to vent and I don’t want to burden you with anything more than I already have...it’s not fair. You’re also suffering from your own problems, and the last thing I was to do is make them worse, or invalidate them with any of this, like the way everyone does to me.) Now, back onto the whole...lack of support. I’m surrounded by people who have the same problems as I do, but whenever they speak up, they get bombarded with help, love and support, but when I do the same...nothing. Not even a message or a ‘here is this nice picture, hope it helps,’ nothing. Hell...I’m even being fucking isolated and almost ostracized from things I used to love doing. I KNOW this for a fact. I’ve been told about RPGs that I have expressed HUGE interest in joining, running without me, and I’m supposed to smile and go ‘haha yeah. Awesome...’ a hobby that once saved my life I’m now starting to hate because of my so-called ‘friends’.  I don’t understand why. I have a theory. But I don’t even want to go down that route, because if I do, I’m just going to lose all hope in my friends and just stop giving a fuck. Which is something I don’t want to do. 

A big part of my personality is the fact that I enjoy helping people, the look on someone face when I help them, it’s not been uncommon of me to stay up till the light of morning with someone from another country, to make sure they had someone there for them so they didn’t hurt themselves. I wanted to go into counselling to help people like myself. One day, I might still do. I want to. If I stopped giving a shit, that’s when I know something is seriously wrong with me and it’s getting to that point. The point of where I just don’t care anymore. The thought of ‘if you’re not going to help or listen to me, why the fuck should I help and listen to you?’  I feel so done with everyone, however, I’m reaching my limit with just how much I can take and it truly does feel like I’m teetering on a knife-edge. One more thing could tip me off that point and I tumble off. But at the same time, I don’t know what the fuck to do about any of it. Like I said...I’m not allowed to say anything, because it’s either  My problems aren’t as bad as their problems I’m just being over dramatic  Or How dare I say such things  So I’m probably going to slip back into wearing a mask again. A false smile to hide the pain I’m going through each and every fucking day.  I could take pills, anti-depressants and the like but the side effects. Oh boy, do I get those. From the feeling even worse to being sexually fucking numb, I get them and I get them BAD and with my current health issues, being my stomach, I don’t really want to risk anything that could make that worse. I’m stuck in a bind.  See, there’s another thing that bothers me...I get more support from strangers online, as in people I chat to when I’m not a total mess, on discord, or on here, than I do with people I know outside of the internet. People who only know me as either Zorin or Punk Gem or whatever handle I use, treat me better and actually care more about me than the friends who know me as Lauren.  That speaks fucking volumes because I’m no different in my real life than I portray online you know? If anything I’m even shyer! But what the hell is going wrong in my life that people online, in other countries, apparently value me more as a person than those who live 10 minutes away.  It wouldn’t have been my dad’s birthday yesterday. He passed away on boxing day, something I’m not over, last year. I said something about it, and you want to know the ONLY person to comment on that? To make sure I was okay, so say ‘I’m here if you need me,’ an American friend. Someone who I’ve only met once, and he never even knew my dad but had a drink to his memory anyway.  It was both heartwarming and soul destroying because it’s an eye-opening experience for me. If someone that far away, who has a job, his own life, has the time to just check in on me, then what the fuck is wrong with everyone else?  If I say anything about that by the way, it’ll be ‘OH I’m sorry, I didn’t see it!’. Bullshit. I wasn’t quiet about it. It was a huge fucking post pinned to my facebook wall yesterday. Fuck you.  You also want to know what I don’t want? Being dragged into family drama that I want no fucking part of. My dad’s side of the family vs my mum. That’s all I’ll hear when I go back home for a weekend, is bitching and moaning about my dad’s family and I just have to smile, nod and agree. I don’t want any part of it, not when my head is already a mess from everything that has happened to me over two fucking years. And once again...can’t talk about that to anyone. So you see, I’m stuck in this cycle. Doomed if I speak up, doomed if I don’t.  Thank you, if you bothered to read any of this. I don’t expect anything from this, I just needed to get a lot off of my chest, and this isn’t the tip of the iceberg. I have a lot. A lot of heavier stuff that I’m keeping quiet, because what I have to say, should only be heard by a professional. 

[the-cryptographer]

Right. So I kind of went through an LGBT+ cinema phase when I was in college. That is a thing that happened to me. I watched a lot of things, most of which were... not that good tbh. BUT there were many things I did enjoy! So I figured let’s share my five favourites. In no particular order.

My Beautiful Launderette

It’s titled after a laundromat, yes.

Takes place in 80s London, and makes pretty amazing use of its setting. It curves into some drama and heavy topics, but the ending still seems bittersweet and tinged with hope. And it’s notable that that’s entirely because of the romantic aspects between the two leads - Omar, a British Pakistani boy whose uncle runs a very successful chain of businesses, and Johnny, a street punk with a checkered history. Also, have to say, this film really does right by its female characters, imo. They might not be the focus but they are very definitely given agency and voice.

Saving Face

Amazing RomCom about the Chinese American community in NYC. Wil is a successful surgeon, with a budding relationship with her girlfriend Vivian, when her widowed and inexplicably pregnant mother is kicked out of her parents’ house and moves in with Wil. Wil’s not exactly closeted, but not exactly comfortable being open about her sexuality either. The mother refuses to name the father of her child. Family drama, and relationship drama, and it’s really just a fun, happy movie.

The Wedding Banquet

Ang Lee before he became famous for Brokeback Mountain. About being Taiwanese in NYC this time, lol. It’s your fake marriage AU, I suppose. Wai-Tung lives happily with his boyfriend Simon, happy except for his parents back home who constantly try to set him up on marriage dates. Simon encourages him to marry Wei-Wei, a real estate tenant of theirs who’s about to get kicked out of the country for lack of a green card, to solve all their problems at once. This does not solve any problems. This film gets distinctly uncomfortable with consent issues at a couple of points, which is an overly tactful way of putting it, but I think it’s worth a watch. Another one that’s light and airy for the most part.

Pariah

A lot heavier than any of the other things on this list. Mea culpa. Black community in NYC this time. Elects not to go for happy relationships and instead investigates that mysterious phenomenon where somebody convincingly stops being gay the morning after. Anyhow, it’s about a butch lesbian named Alike, and abusive parents, and she does make it out of the end of the film okay and go off to college and better things. I’m talking about the 2011 film. There was a 2007 short film that started this, which was much darker, and also Alike’s father be the abusive one, and it was changed to her mother in the long film. I like both versions of the production for different reasons, but know the 2007 one is much more brutal.

Les Chansons d'Amour

Obviously all of the films on the list so far have been about race issues in addition to lgbt+ issues (I have found that you can not carry a story very well on the singular point that ‘THESE PPL ARE GAY’) but, changing it up, this film is about the intersection of grief and lgbt+ issues instead. It’s about a discontented relationship between Ismaël and his girlfriend Julie, and their third Alice. And then Julie dies and Ismaël turns into a sad wreck of a person. And the film is about his friendship with Alice afterwards, and then he meets a boy called Erwann, who is Breton. So I guess I lied - there are also some ethnic issues in this film too. And, yes, this film has both f/f/m and m/m in it. But- also- it’s a MUSICAL.

Anyhow, these are my recommendations to you. And also a brief record of my personal tastes. Sorry it’s not more varied. I hope to see more films about trans issues, for instance, in the future. But maybe you can enjoy some of these~

[mor0ver]

a list of my OC’s for me and my garbage memory

Dumb Punks

Sagittarius (Ari)

Gay and Anxious

latinx

plays the bass becoz duh

hips of a God

6’3” and very skinny

really fucking needs a cuddle and SOME GODDAMN SLEEP

shitty step dad :/

ADORES HIS FRIENDS

cannot talk to boys for the life of him

Nicolas (Nil)

trans

heterosexual but no one believes him because he flirts w/ ari like no tomorrow

into retro stuff

can talk your fucking ear off of about anything

extensive knowledge about obscure shit and will sprout random facts at any moment

adores dogs

technically the oldest of the group and takes that honous very seriously

Renesmé (Nes)

bisexual

cuuuuurley hair

social butterfly - everyone likes her

sings like an angel but cannot dance to save her fucking life oh my god

she invented self care routines

lOvEs LoVe

her and her twin lowkey loathe each other but not really

her and her Boyf are sickeningly cute

Yu Yang (Cherry)

very avant guard and very self expressive

lEsbIan

had maaaajor crush on Nes for a while but then she was introduced to June and then OOF

daddy’s girl (seriously she adores that man)

goes by Cherry because she has a goddamn brand but is very proud of her heratige

very interested in psychology and will either become a therapist or a serial killer just you wait

June (Junebug)

“hey you’re so cute and shy!!” “thanks it’s the social anxiety”

she does rollar derby and honestly it’s the sickest shit ever - she loves it cherry goes to every match

has known paris since they were four, they’re thicker than theives

“hey i heard you were sad here’s a couple of memes and a picture of my cats”

she has this scar on her wrist because she fell through a window when she was eight

easily distracted but the smallest things

she forgets to eat all the time

Paris

Dramatic yet Disinterested Gay

basically invented beauty

will not let ari kiss him if he has highlighter on

fucking 6’4” the dickhead

would jump off a cliff for a dog i’m not even kidding

beautiful singing voice and knows it

when him and june were kids they’d put on his mother’s dresses and perform for the grown ups

pretends not to care, cares deeply

Wren

soft butch lesbian

has this huge fucking dog and jesus christ nobody knows how she controls it

really fucking into cars oh my go D

lives with her brother

kinda,,,, weebish

“there’s this thing... called ugio”

her and ari bond over how impulsive they are

will listen to mena’s dramatic monologs with love and support in her eyes

shitty parents but lives with her older brother and he’s fckinnn great

Mena

trans girl

desi

loves classic lit because it’s melodramatic and GREAT

old movies too!

the youngest of the group as well as her family

her grandparents are super supportive of her identity

she cooks a lot and DAMB is it good

dislikes all dogs except Wren’s because,,,, he’s got wren’s personality

Uma

bi

has a prosthesis on her right leg that reaches to her mid thigh

super intrested in space and shit

big ol crush on nil since they were in year 7

two mums and they are Amazing and are a big reason for her interest in astrophysics

so. many. puns.