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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 27 days ago

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RE: your last ask... I'm a different anon, trans in the other direction heh. Finding which path bears the most fruit is... So difficult? I'm currently on the waitlist for top surgery and I haven't told my parents yet- it's going to cause so much anger and grief and I don't know if I will be able to maintain a relationship with them. They're very progressive for reformed protestant christians otherwise, moderately leftwing, but something about transness sets off my dad in a way I do not understand and he refuses to explain, he just storms off and says he "can't follow me on this path". So... Yeah. Idunno. Transitioning feels selfish, but I also NEED to do it, so I'll go through with it, I just always wonder if it's gonna be the final nail in the coffin for my faith.

previous ask

I feel for you — it can be hard to discern which way leads to good fruit when you are in the liminal space between the tree planted and the tree fruiting. It can also be really really hard to determine what exactly the tree is: In your case, are potential negative responses to your transness / top surgery the fruit of transness itself? Or is the tree transphobia?

That is how I consider things: When trans people are free to live as themselves without transphobia and cissexism involved (hard to experience these days), the fruit is new life, new energy, new community, new thriving. It is only when those anti-trans reactions enter the mix that the results are instead rejection, violence, and grief.

That is why I firmly maintain that any bad fruits that come from living out our transness are coming from transphobia, not transness itself. I will share my personal experience, while aware that I am extremely lucky and privileged to have parents who were never afraid "for my soul," only a little incredulous about nonbinary genders at first and then concerned about how it would affect my quality of life.

When I told my parents I planned to get top surgery and would appreciate their support, by dad and mom both responded with different flavors of bewilderment about why it was necessary. My dad kept talking about how my body shouldn't matter (typical view of a white, cishet, able bodied man). My mom told me she couldn't offer any financial support to the surgery itself because she thought it was a mistake I'd regret, and a waste of money.

But over the year following my top surgery, they witnessed my transformation: my new energy, joy, willingness to get out of my comfort zone. And they moved into full support.

My mom also originally grieved over my name change, because my birthname was meaningful to her and she felt like I was distancing myself from her by changing it -- but within a year, she gave me the nickname "Aves," and fully supported my legal change when I finally got around to it.

Ultimately, my parents' support and affirmation through calling me the right name and pronouns, and even challenging their friends when they say anti-trans shit, has brought us closer than we ever were before while I was in the closet / completely unaware of what it was that made me feel so disconnected from society.

The affirmation of transness yields good fruit. It is transphobia that yields bad fruit. As the late, great Rachel Held Evans puts it:

"If same-sex relationships are really sinful, then why do they so often produce good fruit—loving families, open homes, self-sacrifice, commitment, faithfulness, joy? And if conservative Christians are really right in their response to same-sex relationships, then why does that response often produce bad fruit—secrets, shame, depression, loneliness, broken families, and fear?"

All this to say: I am so sorry that you have been made to feel torn between your gender and your faith, between transness and your parental relationships. You deserve to be loved exactly as you are, to experience yourself as the holy, beloved person you are. But if you feel you must choose — choose life. Choose surgery and whatever else you need to be you.

I pray that the other things will follow — that your loved ones will witness the good fruit of your choice, and finally be able to follow you into joy. But even if they fail to recognize what is clearly evident, I pray you will feel the presence of the LIVING God who wills abundant life for you.

#good fruit #parent tag

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strangerhawke · 6 months ago

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chosen names are so weird because honestly for the longest time i’ve never really felt connected to any name. all the names i chose were because of a feeling - but not a real one. a feeling of ‘who i want to be’ as opposed to who i am. i don’t know who i am, so how could i possibly put a name to it?

Cee was just a way to cut off my birthname, like cauterising a wound. but it felt like being left with the bloody mess to deal with.

Zeke represented ‘the opposite’. i look like a woman, but my name is masculine - therefore people will think twice about misgendering me. they never did. always she. didn’t even seem to clock to them that it meant something more. Zeke became a placeholder - a ‘waiting until you notice’ name. a passive name. enough to make people look twice, but not enough to prompt a conversation about it.

so i tried something else. at first i was Ziggy - a nickname a friend used for me. i liked Z’s, and the name felt bouncy and flexible. it felt like that a carefree person would have, someone whimsical who could go with the flow. and in moments of panic and frustration and hatred and anger, i felt like a clown. the name became a brand for Kooky Nonbinary Person and it felt like i was humiliating myself on purpose. a name that was too ‘silly’ for people to respect. for my family to laugh about.

all in my head, obviously. no one ever said a word to me about the name while i had it. but my own mind conjured up this false audience who chipped away at each and every detail. (probably spent too much time on twitter)

then it was Zag. video game character name. my brain being drawn to this name felt like the teenager inside of me trying to get out. but Zagreus is strong, funny, witty, kind - things i longed to be. and Z is my favourite letter, so. bonus.

Zag fell apart in the same way as Ziggy did; although mainly it felt as though i was using the name as a caricature - implying i was all of those things when i wasn’t. i was just a sad depressed person who didn’t really leave the house.

and then i played omori.

a game about a sad depressed person who doesn’t leave the house.

a person who feels like a blank slate, waiting for other people to write on them. and his name was Sunny. it could be any name, of course - it’s a video game. but the default name is sunny. and seeing this bright vibrant name that implied such joy, such warmth, such light beside a black and white neutral face was such a wonderful contrast. the idea that my name didn’t have to correspond to who i am, or could in fact be the opposite in a way that was pleasing as opposed to debilitating - was wonderful to me. and though i initially held off on using it - it didn’t begin with Z, and this bothered me greatly - i gave it a shot. and found that while it didn’t ‘fit’ in the way chosen names seemed to for so many other people, it wasn’t an idea, or a feeling. it was a name.

and it feels like i’ve grown into that name as opposed to it fitting to me. the person i couldn’t see before is there in my reflection. it’s murky but it’s there. when i see my name i know it’s me.

my family still calls me zeke, or my birthname, but it doesn’t matter as much as it used to. zeke became a title to my nieces, and has the feeling of a family nickname to it.

the other names are just lines in the sand washed away by the sea. moments of me that tried to be, and couldn’t.

but i’m trying to be sunny for as long as i can. i don’t expect to change it again, but i don’t expect it not to. expecting anything leads to disappointment.

names aren’t ideas, or concepts, or who you want to be - they’re you. they’re just you.

#queer thoughts #sunnyposting

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sunny-marl · 3 months ago

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Mowdown headcanons!!!! as requested :•3 ( @shakusame )

(using she/her for the girlie.)

please do not. mind. that a portion of these hcs are basically me projecting some of my life experiences onto her. :autism eyes:

hope you like them tehehehe

starts with • <- "main" headcanon, not really linked to other with •

starts with "-" or "--" <- "sub" headcanons of main headcanon

• i really see her living with a single parent(unsure about mother Or father. might end up making them NB and that's it) for some reason?

- she isn't sad about it though, she knows it's for the best, and since it's been that way since she was like a baby it doesn't affect her that much

-- she also has a baby (half-)brother 🥰 he's a little menace, and tries to get away with punishment doing cute faces (it does work with everybody But Mowdown and their parent)

• she wants to change her birthname, to one that isn't similar to Philip.(Maybe. Amelia.) she still calls herself her birthname because. well, it's not really an open thing about her being A Girl, and she gets afraid of saying any feminine name and that end up in the ears of her parent.

- she knows there's possiblity of her parent accepting her, but she's also Too Scared of the possibility that they Won't.

• while she does get some dysphoria from times to times, she is pretty okay with her looks as of now. she doesn't really feel the necessity of changing stuff like her style to be more fem looking, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to try a thing or too.

-- she finds makeup really interesting, and tried to use nail polish on her claws once(it didn't really work and she just gave up on applying it 😔)

• she goes to the gym regularly! and whenever she's in a real bad mood she tends to spend much more time doing exercises to get the energy out.

- she doesn't like skipping leg day☝️

-- she also know how to play drums!! 😁

• Mowdown LOVES horror films!! she really gets into the story and it doesn't really affect her (in contrast of most of the detention gang 💀)

- she specially likes the criminal "trope" of cannibals. she just finds it really interesting how they're get different mentalities but there's also many points in common with one another.

• her favorite aes ever is Gurokawa!!! She also likes Yami Kawaii and a bit of Dokukawa 💖 she has many posters in her bedroom with those elements, and in some of her clothes too :autism eyes:

- she has a collection of tiny plushies!! some she customizes to look a little creepy(-ier).

-- for her gifts with some sort of meaning really outstands any price or size... if you give her a slightly cracked heart-shaped rock because it made you think of her shirt, she'll be Extremely Happy. even if many times she tries to hide her excitement.

• she LOVES hugs. Big Bear Hugger. and she also really likes to squeeze who she's hugging(it just feels more right!). many decline her hugs because of it though, since she may squeeze too tight sometimes 🥺

• she has a plain body pillow she sleeps with. it's pretty old, and she doesn't really like sleeping without it.

- she used to sleep in the same bed as her parent as a little kid, and she liked to cuddle them sometimes (fr i'd love if people really normalized cuddling with family/friends... it's not that deep)

• she has no idea of how to label herself in terms of Liking People, and she didn't have that many crushes overall.

- But. she did have a "small" crush on Scythe once... before her Romantic Feelings faded, it was around when Scythe and Rotten started to "have a thing"(and later date). she tried to play it cool and keep a straight face whenever they were around, but she soaked her pillow with tears because of it at least Once 💔.

i THINK that's most of them!! :•) hope it's understandable.

#tawog #the amazing world of gumball #tawog mowdown #tawog detention gang #tawog headcanons #gumball #sun that talks #tawog philip #detention gang

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sspeedracerr · 1 month ago

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TRANS WINN HEADCANNONS PLSSSSS IM ON A WINN SCHOTT HIGH

First of all, thank you for being my first ask!! Secondly, of course!!!

now, bear with me because I don't usually write headcanons, but I'll do my best 😭🙏

I think his birthname was still Winslow, especially since that's gender neutral and he's a Jr. but he gets pretty uncomfortable when people call him Winnie rather that Winn.

I also think his father was supportive of him, especially after everything since (if I recall,) he wants Winn to join him(?) I don't know about his mom, since she was never able to see him without risking his life, but I assume she'd accept him after everything since she wanted him to forgive her.

Kara finds out accidentally, (probably walks in on him changing after a coffee spill and sees his scars) she's obviously super supportive, but a little sad Winn felt the need to hide it.

James probably finds out by Kara, she didn't mean anything by it, she just figured they wouldn't keep secrets anymore. Winn might be upset for a while, but he knows she didn't mean any harm, so he forgives her.

I imagine him being pretty insecure about it, being compared and surrounded by men like James and Clark and even J'onn, I feel like he has a lot to live up to, so doing little things like puffing out his chest, talking about sports, making jokes he doesn't really agree with make him feel a little more masculine, despite multiple people telling him he doesn't need to, there's always that nagging voice saying he could do more.

Going through multiple foster homes really destroyed his self image for a long time since I imagine the children and adults there weren't very nice (based on Winn's descriptions of it,) so they'd tease him and bully him and make him doubt himself. But once he met Kara and James and all his new friends, he knew he was worth more than what he thought he was, despite some bad days here and there.

As much as I hate the end of season 3, I imagine when Winn goes to the future and sees how much things have changed for trans/lgbtq+ people and how much they're accepted, I think he gets a sense that everything's gonna be okay for everyone else back home, even if it's far in the future, it still ends up happening, and that's all he needs.

Again, I haven't written headcanons since like 2020 and I was working on this entire post for like 5 and a half hours (half of that was making my divider.) ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed anon, and thank you again for being my first ask <333

#winn schott #supergirl #transgender #trans winn schott #headcanon #headcanons #winn schott headcanons #supergirl headcanons #first ask

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senshis-tenshi · 6 months ago

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BACK AGAIN ON MY BS!!!!!!!!!!! what is PF's relationship like with each of the wives?! :O what dose she think of them?!

THANK YOU MY QUEEN MWAH ILY!!!

So basically I feel like they all kinda raised her together so… wah

There is an unbreakable bond between her and The Dag, simply because PF was born to her. But they really are more like sisters than mother and daughter. The Dag isn’t someone PF finds comfort in or goes to for help, and at the same time, The Dag was very young when she had her and doesn’t have a lot of motherly feelings towards her. They are entirely different people, and while they love each other, they simply don’t understand each other very well. The Dag is snarky and speaks in riddles, PF is obedient and direct. Polar opposites. They avoid each other most of the time honestly, because looking at each other‘s faces just causes them so much pain. And still, PF goes out of her way to protect The Dag when she can. She goes from „weirdo“ to „NOT MY MOM!!!“ in a matter of seconds if she has to.

Angharad is who PF actually goes to for affection and comfort - just like the other wives, she looks up to her as a leader of some sort. She believes that she can learn a lot from her, and appreciates her wiseness and her warmth. She views her more like a mother figure, even if she tries not to put even another burden on her. She understands why she’s her father‘s favorite, but at the same time, she tries to protect her from being „overused“ by him if she can. They have more of a mother and daughter relationship, honestly.

Capable probably spends the most time trying to figure her out. Trying to understand what’s going on inside her head. She’s the one who figured out that the child had sensory issues, that she has routines she likes to follow, etc. She took on the role of a second parent basically. The one guiding her and letting her see a light in the darkness. When Angharad’/ warmth couldn‘t help, Capable‘s view of the world could. They‘re very affectionate with each other, but more like that one neighbor ™️ who always watched over you when your mom wasn’t home, you know?

PF and Toast were never particularly close, when the girl was younger. Child PF was always pretty scared of anything she connected to men or deemed „manly“, and Toast‘s tomboyish appearance and attitude made her want to keep her distance. Toast, not really caring for children anyway, didn’t get too close to the kid and left her to the wives she felt more comfortable with. PF only started approaching her more once she got her first period and Toast happened to be the one guiding her through it. They grew to like each other‘s bluntness and boyish demeanor eventually. They‘re like close friends, or cousins.

Cheedo is just a bit younger than PF, and her sensitivity always made her want to keep her safe. PF would often redirect her father‘s attention to someone or something else to protect Cheedo. They are the closest in age, and PF views her like a little sister almost. Any harm coming to her genuinely upsets her, and Cheedo comes to her and Angharad the most for comfort and protection. She’s also the only one besides Angharad that PF is physically affectionate with - and tbh, even more so. She’s gotten dangerously close to kissing her on the lips before. The lines between sisterly and romantic love blur a little at times, especially when she looks up at her with those big innocent eyes.

She refers to them all by their names, and they refer to her as by her birthname, since they know she hates being called Passion Fingers. Since both her names are technically insults to her existence though and The Dag never got to choose, she sometimes refers to her as „Wilde Lilie“ or a „flourishing little weed“ affectionately. When asked, she admits to like the idea of calling her Lillie or Liane.

#asks #non nonnie mouse #oc tag / death angel

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envihellbender · 2 years ago

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Anders realising he’s forgotten his own birth name with joy and sadness

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Fandom: Dragon Age (2, specifically)

Content: fenders, angst, hurt comfort

“It’s strange," Fenris admitted. “I suppose killing Danarius was good in some ways but… Leto. Is that me? That’s what she called me. My…” His voice trailed off and his cheeks burned, he hated calling Varania ‘sister’. It created a hole in his chest and stomach. He hated speaking of her at all. It had been two weeks since Danarius was killed, and as Fenris did most say he was sat in Anders’ watching whilst he worked. As well as adding much needed muscle if the Templars decided to show up.

“Do you want to go back to being Leto?” Anders asked. He had paused mixing a healing potion specifically to turn to Fenris, he watched him sadly wishing he could help more. He looked so small and alone perched on the medical cot in the tiny clinic.

“I don’t know. I- it’s not me any more. I suppose it’s- someone else entirely. It’s not a name I can claim ownership over, I don’t think,” Fenris said carefully. “Does that make sense?”

“I mean, sure. Getting a name you connect with from your oppressor is hard. I- Anders… it’s a name the Templars gave me,” Anders said with a frown. “They couldn’t pronounce my birthname and I refused to say it. Because why would I give them that?”

“Why Anders?” Fenris asked.

“They took me from the Anderfels originally, they brought me over to Fereldan because… I don’t know. I spoke a little Common but not enough for me to understand their rapid, quiet way of speaking. They called me ‘the Anders g-’” Anders stopped himself. “The Anders child. Got shortened to Anders. And the name stuck. It’s a masculine name back in the Anderfels, you know? Bit like John in Fereldan in how common it is. That made be happy before I understood why.”

“I suppose I must be lucky, I can’t remember ever being called Leto. Fenris is… my slave name but all I know. I don’t have the pain associated with it like you do.” Fenris let out a sigh, a long exhale of breath that relaxed his body.

“I- yes, I-” Anders hesitated for a moment. He stared at Fenris and his brow furrowed, he desperately searched his memories but as hard as he could he couldn’t find it. “I don’t… I don’t remember it.”

“Remember what?” Fenris looked up suddenly, confused and worried at Anders’ sudden distress.

“My… my old name. I don’t-” Anders turned away and began pacing up and down his clinic. “It’s gone.”

“Is that … good?” Fenris asked. He honestly wasn’t sure, he didn’t know how he felt about not knowing his previous self and forgetting something so pivotal was horrific.

“Yes, it is, but no… i don’t know. It’s hard to explain.” Anders sighed and stopped. He turned to Fenris who was watching him intently. He was quiet, truly listening to everything Anders said.

“It’s… my past,” he said anxiously, his eyes watering and his throat growing cry. “It’s me from before the Circle. It gets harder and harder to remember every day. I can’t speak my mother tongue any more, my family’s faces are blurred, and now I don’t even remember my name.” He wrapped his arms around his body and curled in on himself as he began to shake.

“I see. That’s… yes, I see,” Fenris nodded, looking away in thought. After a moment of silence he stood up and stepped towards Anders.

“It’s just another thing the Templars took from me I guess. It’s as if all I am is what they made me-” Anders’ voice was becoming faster and was about to fall into incoherency. Fenris rested a hand on Anders’ bicep and squeezed, grounding him off a moment. He closed the space between them and pressed his forehead into Anders’.

“But you’re not. You left, you became a Grey Warden, you then became a healer here. You are far, far more than what they made you. Far more,” Fenris said assertively, his hands falling to Anders’ hips. “You’re my amatus. My love. My everything. And nothing I fell in love with belongs to the Templars.”

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #fenris dragon age #anders dragon age #fenders #envi writes #ninetimesthepain #hurt/comfort #angst #gif

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imsupposedtobearesponsibleteen · 7 months ago

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There is one piece of discord in the community that I think about a lot and thats when its okay to out people.

Like, I am trans, but I currently don't pass. Most of my friends are aware I'm trans and call me by my name and pronouns.

HOWEVER

My friends call me my birthname and she/her in front of my mother and a small group of people I'm not out to yet.

Why? Surely if they were allies, they'd want them to make me comfortable.

Well my mother is transphobic and it just wouldn't be safe or reasonable to out me to her, and the safety of your trans friend is more important than your internal sense of justice. External safety is more important than your own internal sense of justice. I would rather be deadnamed than hate crimed.

Also no, because who I come out to and when may be for certain reasons and its not up to you to dictate my timeline. For example, maybe I came out 3 years ago, but haven't seen one of my friends in 4 years. I might want to tell them in person. There are groups of people that I'm not friends with that know me by my deadname and that I don't interact with on a regular enough basis to have either name in their mouth.

For me, some people are just not worth coming out to.

#transmasc #transmasculine #trans pride #trans people #trans #transgender #transblr

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sir-arlieosaurus-lung-struggler · 1 year ago

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Unconventional: A Short Story of Hiding in Plain Sight

Is a short essay written in 2023 on my personal struggles being Native American and AroAce, and how both subjects intersected in a small window of time.

Disclaimer⚠️:

anti-Native American racism

Use of "noble savage"

I think its fairly good, weather the writing is good or not i think it has a good message anyway.

Notes:

In the writing I use the name Wallace to refer to myself, but for context I present fem & still mostly go by my birthname, the people talking to me were using my birthname.

Info aluding to location is removed.

This also relates to my expiriences as a trans person but I'm closited to most people, so is not included

The names of others is changed cause it was fresh at the time and i didnt want to hassle reporting them.

Slightly edited from origonal

History has always been one of my favorite subjects. There isn't much reason aside from that the past fascinates me. Native units are different though. I was ecstatic! Beforehand, that is.

Walking into class on the second day, I already dreaded sitting down, only to be called an "American Indian" through the scribbles of graphite on worksheets. The teacher listed name after name of tribes nearby, he got to a tribe with a well known casino, its famous add campaign was shouted out from the kid beside me, with near no objection. All we are to them; our casino's tagline.

All throughout page after page, side conversation to worksheet, "Indian" rang through my head like the caws of blue jays. Imagine the discovery of discomfort displacing you far from anyone's mind when your history teacher reads blindly from a paper without a second thought.

Through the day, peeve soaked my clothes and I stomped on every drip and caw with the vexation of a murder of flustered crows as I ducked through crowded halls.

I wasn't even there. Not that I made that known.

I wasn't content to sit angerly in my hamster wheel of a head, If I was going to be angry, I didn't want to go through it alone, I was happy to at least vent to someone.

I sat down later for advisory, still soaked in irritation head to toe, I yanked my computer out of its sleeve and clanked at its keys till my frenzied fingers were sore, all class I deliberated my days into a lengthy group-chat email. Saying I was- am annoyed is an understatement, my eyes were incandescent as I slammed down each key. Whether I had history work or not I didn't care enough to do it, I wasn't in the mood to be called an "American Indian" for the next half hour by a paper for answering X Y & Z. I value my sanity over that any day.

I trampled the keyboard with every example I could think of, the textbooks, the kid next to me, the fact that in any history class I've been in all the natives are put under the blankets of numbers. I ended my rant venting, "Sorry if this is out of the blue or off topic or if I 'ruined tha vibe' or whatever maybe I'm just 'over-exaggerating' but I don't care right now… I can only hope we get more than a geography lesson in this unit." I took off my obnoxiously bright hat to see my Aro and Ace pride pins lining its rabbit face.

I've always "identified" as native, there was just never much else. Dads side is just smaller, and out of touch with one another. None of them ever talk.

My weekdays are spent looking at my grandmothers' walls, beadwork, and Formline, and family photos framing it from corner to corner. I've always been a Tlingit Kid. Through my mom and generations of women back till who knows when, I am my clans child. But my dad's side of the family being white, and me taking more after him, the impression I get, when I tell some people I'm native, is that I'm one of those "my grandmother was a Cherokee princess" girls. And that just puts me off from telling people I don't know in the first place.

Once a girl responded to my invisible native-ness with "... so you're white?" I can taste her entitlement every time I repeat her, as if she were owed any sort of "truth." What's the point? What do you want? To see proof of my brown family? My tribal ID? Me to wear my regalia 24/7? My blood quantum painted on a sign above my head?

In attempts to connect with my roots I picked up a book from the library, #ImNotYourPrincess seemed interesting by its title. There was one page that stuck to my skin. "It's strange to me how people always want me to be an "authentic Indian" when I say I'm kanyen'keha:ka. They want me to look a certain way, act a certain way. They're disappointed when what they get is.... just me. White faced, light haired... They want my culture behind glass in a museum. But they don't want me. I'm not Indian enough..." that page was part of the poem, Invisible Indians, by a Mohawk woman named Shelby Lisk.

Advisory September 29, still angered from history just an hour beforehand, I was already unamused with my day. Sitting down for class, I noted down any other things I'd heard from my peers for safekeeping on a word document. Today there was nothing, but I was irritated so I noted any semblance that could have been something as an angered precaution.

From there I went with the motions and hid my face from the dim windows and lights to avoid a worsened headache. I sat to chip away at the little work I had, seeing as it was a Friday, only to be met with an unwelcome whine of my name. "Wallace? Wallace? Wallace? Hey Wallace?" It rang in my worn-out ears like early morning bird disputes from the trees, "Wallace? Wallace? Waaaaaaaalllaaaaaace? Don't be rude Wallace. Wallace Wallace? Wallace?" Frustrated in giving him the time of day, I swiveled my chair in Gabriel's direction for just enough time to send the message of hey, bud I hear you, and twirled back, my face growing more and more sour as the moments inch by. All just for him to spit "Anthony likes you!" For the whole class to feast their ears upon.

His caws stained my expression as we shuffled our chairs around and he continued "Wallace? Waalaace?" We moved again, and without fail he still was in his territorial dispute with the neighboring crows. Get my name out of your mouth I thought. I just continued to angrily lean tired on tables.

We shuffled chairs again, (admittedly this advisory was, not productive.) too tired to take it much further than I already had shoved it, I pulled it past the backpacks flopped on the floor and stopped it by the counters on the wall. Another voice, chimed in "You like Jacob, right? That's why you're sitting so close to him?"

I sat with my right leg crossed over my left, my shoulders slouched to the back of my chair. All I could muster was a glare and stern "No."

The class ended, nothing productive coming as a result of it, and I continued onto lunch.

As I walked the hall, my tiresome time trickled down my cheeks. I was done. I crimpled my face in my light blue hood and sleeves and broke my voice as I shrunk on my lunch. A moment went by when I heard a voice through my whimpers.

"Are you ok?" Rea was sat at the other side of the table with her friends, all seeming concerned.

Through my hiccups I answered. "No." I've always wondered, why even ask? By the time you want to ask you've already answered your own question. That's my case anyway. As I explained my past few days, I was practically reciting the email I wrote yesterday. How I'm not an Indian, the kid at the other table in 1st period, how in my nine years in schooling all the white men had the privilege of being referred to by name while all us sliver of native kids had to go off outside our families is Billy Frank JR. How I wanted enough respect to not have words put in my mouth. How I already have enough on my plate. How I was overwhelmed.

Rea and her friends watched me concernedly as I sat shivering. They let me go on with my rant till I crumbled past speech, and they had some room to ask, "Do you want a hug?"

"Yeah."

I stood up in anticipation. She speed-walked over in open arms, her friends following close behind her. And we hugged in the aisles of lunch tables as she let me cling to her back and cry on her leather shoulder.

I doubt they anticipated many native kids' reading the textbook, not like there's many of us here, four of us in the whole thousand-plus kid school.

Being called something I'm not, in more ways than one, just felt- I couldn't explain it. The concept was quite earthly, grounded to me. But putting it to words others could understand, and so that I understood that feeling before sharing it, was foreign.

Later that night, I wrote to myself and the void in a journal on my phone (was what i said for the school asignment, it was really tumblr drafts). About my eventful last few days, my frustration, my exhaust, and I said as much. Reflecting on my week, I wanted to have a vocalization of just how, weird it felt. I doubt Anthony "liked" me, I barely knew his name, let alone had we talked. The concept of someone liking me romantically is foreign, unwelcomed. Can't be controlled by either side, still just as off-putting.

I image they were antagonizing Anthony alongside me whether he did "like" me, it or not. I don't make it too well known verbally, but I'm Aromantic. No romantic attraction. In my case specifically the type where any romance involving me feels, for lack of better, more concise words, gross. It's purely alien to me. I just don't understand it.

My first "crush" was conveniently chosen at the end stretch of kindergarten. It was almost cartoonish how much I faked it, even to myself.

By the time 6th grade rolled around, I had counted about 5 "crushes" up to that point. I made it to my 4th period world history class and while playing "would you rather" I talked with a girl who agreed that pineapples on pizza was delicious, we concluded it was because their sweet-savory-ness. We were sat close together, and we talked a lot. I figured out she was gay from her telling me she was excited to meet her crush at the park later for a mini date. I didn't even care there was "someone else" I was just perfectly happy that she was so happy. I felt weird, not feeling weird, but it took another year to read between the lines, to figure out it was admiration and close companionship. (And more like queerplatonic attraction, but I didnt want to delve into ALL that for a school asignment)

The night of the 30th, it took till I was pacing lost in thought and song lyrics till I thought of how to word it, "Just the idea of someone feeling a romantic way about me feels gross. Let alone a kid 1 barely know... like it feels so gross I wish I was more articulated to explain it, the best synonym I have at the moment is that I need a shower. It feels like, sticky- like the equivalent of I just got dunked in syrup and it dried a bit then my hair being covered in gum to the point I may as well just shave it."

I realize now, I'm not any of these people's "truth," I'm not what they expect. I'm native, but I'm not dark. I don't want to be a prince charming, or to be "saved" by one. I'm not what any of them name me. I'm not a "hostile Indian" or, better yet "Noble Savage" (both attributed to a documentary we watched in class). I'm not going to find "the one" nor do I want to. I'm not the words they put in my mouth, what they decide I am.

The days moved on. The class moved on.

The boys mostly stop bothering me.

The second of October, a new kid at the same table as add reading kid, chirped the headline of my morning, "If these people were still around today, Bugs Bunny would be their god." The only context I had was I think they were talking about aspecific region that used rabbits a lot in clothing and food, but the statement they were gone was laughably triggering.

From there kids didn't say much else. All I heard was my personal broken record.

From then on, I made sure I had my Aro and Ace pins, and my native pride shirts as often as possible, to show what I really am. At least if people don't know what the pins are they can assume I'm somehow queer and back off. At least I started wearing the pins at home. Not that many people would notice; or know what any of it means to me. But at least someone would. At least I know there are 3 more of us here, somewhere. Hiding in plain sight. At least I ultimately don't care for why people I don't know would care enough to comment. Or why I comment on them in all honesty. At least I can decide it doesn't affect me so I can scrub the stains gone. At least I have pretty good luck charms. At least I have Redbone's Come and Get Your Love.

I don't think its that I don't like history anymore, more often than not, I've learned, my favorite part of history is what is never taught.

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sharksa-shivers · 10 months ago

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Thing i wrote a bit ago lol/an explain-y thing bout ocean names/Sharky's name origin

"…….Did you know that……My name…I picked that out when i was a kid? It's an ocean culture thing to change your name, to make yourself yourself. I didn't really know my birthname so…I didn't have a name…Amber called me Sharky all the time whenever she was taking care of me when i was like 3, 4…Whenever i was about 5 and could understand more, i decided to pick that as my name and add Sharkson as a last name. It made me feel nice because it was something Amber called me alot and……At the time, because i was pretty sheltered, i was proud and happy to be a shark because that was all i knew……..And then i stepped out into the real world and got slapped by reality. Sometimes now, i hate that that's my name…And i hate that assholes have taken something that meant so much to me as a kid and twisted into an evil………But sometimes it does remind me that i should be proud of who and what i am……….Right now though, i REALLY hate that's my name…And i hate that i cannot get away from the reminder that I'm a shark……" Sharky said after a few moments.

"………I didn't know that you picked out your name…I will admit, that…I kind of wondered why you went by 'Sharky'…Like…….No offense but it's a pretty obvious name for a shark…But knowing all that i know now, that's really sweet how you claimed that as your name…" Kristy said after a moment. Sharky listened and couldn't blame her for thinking that. It was kind of strange in a sense. It was a really OBVIOUS name and it was really simple and whatnot……..But at the same time, it did hold alot of meaning to him…It really did…Even if he hated it at the moment…It was him…Whether he liked it or not… ------------------------------------------------ So yeah tho lol...If you were wondering why stuff like "Orange Hair", "Sharky" "Pink Fin" ect; this is why...Alot of childhood nicknames usually become seafolks full names and they can also change names at any point lol...It's how some mers have a fuckton of alt identities and whatnot...It's a very cultural thing for seafolk lol "Does that mean Sharky has a birthname? Will we learn bout what that is?" Hmmmmmm...(Family Guy Peter Leaning back, clasping hands) Perhaps...But i wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise uwu...

#kidnappedseries #kidnappedseries dialog stuff #kidnappedseries rambles

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shitty-goose-quack · 2 years ago

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hey! pippa here :-)

i was wondering how common it was for a system to have very few people, like under five. also, whether it’s possible for it to be very rare that anyone other than the core (i think that’s the term) is in control?

Hi pippa/helena I am Quinn, I'm also the core, or at least the most like our core. Systems can come in all shapes and sizes, I am part of a traumagenic system (meaning my system formed from trauma), and you'll find that there is a lot of hate and discourse about traumagenic/endogenic systems (we personally try to stay out of all that). in any case, if you are also traumagenic then jake and whoever else might be there formed so that you didn't have to deal with all the trauma all the time. That doesn't mean that having only a few headmates (parts, alters, people in your head, whatever term(s) you chose to use) is because you didn't have enough trauma, it could be a bunch of things, but please don't feel invalid because you only have a few.

-switch lol, thea they/she now-

it's also possible that you guys haven't learned how to unmask yet, some signs of that include

feeling foggy all the time

not being sure who you are at any given moment

feeling like you're faking it

jake being able to pretend to be you very easily and quickly

it's very common when you first realize you're a system, because the point is not knowing you have headmates. So, maybe Jake is just the most vocal/different headmate, and in learning that you'll discover more.* or maybe not, maybe it's just you 2 and that's okay too!

as for your second question yes, that is also possible, and in that case your core would also be your 'host' or the person who fronts most often

quick side note, core is typically used to refer to the child who was there before splitting (usualy around 7), and from splitting to realizing you're a system it's assumed that a bunch of people fronted until you realized. Then the host, which is usually (but not always) the person in your system that goes by your birthname, identifies with that gender, etc. Anyway, hosts are technically the people/person that front the most often, but we use it like "the people that the rest of us pretend to be like"

.switch back to Quinn.

There's also stuff called co-consciousness, which would be like you can hear jake in your head but you are the one in control, and co-fronting, which would be like you are both in control and talk to each other.

So yeah I hope that answered your questions, sorry for the late reply again, I think we're in different time zones. I can link you to some recourses/answer more questions if you want, just let us know

edited by Quinn: *yeah that seams like that's what happened after reading your posts, colored text is a really good way of keeping track, good job! im proud of all of you for figuring this out, and for making picrews (we still can't make picrews and we've been aware for going on 8 months lol). i just want to remind you all that being foggy is okay. not knowing who's who is okay. not knowing when switching happens is okay. don't beat yourselves up about it, it'll come with time and practice, and it wont hurt anything if you accidentally mix it up and type as someone else. you'll learn and move on. It might sometimes feel like you're faking it, that'll also fade with time. remember: people know if they're faking something. people know if they intentionally set out to fake something. if you didn't, you're not faking. If it turns out you guys are not a system but it turns out it's something else, it will not hurt the anyone, you'll just have made a mistake in figuring out who you are, and that's okay. We love you and we're rooting for you 😘🤗.

#sgq #ask box

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