#the experience of having what could be called a homosexual experience but

[moonsnogger]

His room smells like it always has, and we lie across his bed like we always do. Our bodies look like railings on a train track. Dust collects on the frames of Hayley’s portraits like the sand dunes. Their eyes don’t follow me. But mine follow the shape of his hair when he tucks it out of his face.

The second drawer of his dresser houses a sleepy orphanage of dolls Pippa used to build. I think about the body I inhabit - its spine contorted to hide what I asked it not to do, its bones shaped for some destiny I’ll never fulfill. Can it ever sit there too?

I think I’d let him keep it, should he ever want to try it on. Maybe in exchange, I could have his hands and height, but he wears those well. There are limitations to that sort of pottery.

He shows me hentai he’s read. We laugh. We kiss. I get him hard as a sort of game. Neither of us are particularly invested. But my fingers still know the dips in his stomach. My mouth knows his as a child knows a swing set. My eyes are greener here. I wished his hips were wider.

His brow furrows when I adjust my binder. I’m not sure which of us said it first. But he knows it as I do.

“I pretend you’re a girl when we kiss.”

I feel the corner of his mouth tilt upward against my own.

“Dude,” he begins, and I see a chuckle building at the base of his neck. “I would be a great girlfriend.”

He wouldn’t. His hands would wander toward the waist of another and it would be over fast. But I didn’t even mind the sarcasm. Secrets pass through the space between our chests like water. I poke his side the way he does to me. But he smiles, and so do I.

I wonder how much of me is a woman to him. He probably wonders the same.

“I’ll put you in one of my old dresses,” I reply. “I’ll make you very pretty.”

He winks. The bastard. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He never lies to anyone.

[shenachigans]

THE KEY TO HER HEART | Cassandra Kiramman

PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader

CW: angst with a hopeful ending?, spoilers for season 2 act I, canon divergence, in Caitlyn’s pov, no dialogues (except one), mentions of death, mentions of reader being married to a man and having children with said man, mentions of pregnancy, mentions and implications of being in the hospital deathbed, tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, they kept their love for each other hidden until the end, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra and Caitlyn

SUMMARY: Caitlyn receives the Kiramman Key to unlock knowledge privy to the Kiramman matriarchs. She also unlocks a memoir of her mother’s past, specifically with the person she loved the most through old photographs and unsent letters.

A/N: I realized a lot of my published work is composed of the “letter narrative” as I call it and this one has a bunch. It’s similar to my first Cassandra fanfic, the only difference is there’s death and grief involved. I have yet to finish the season, but her funeral and the memorial were hard to watch. I miss her so much. 

A/N (12/11/24): Reading it while listening to “I Can’t Hear It Now” by Freya Ridings/Arcane on loop is a whole other experience...

WORDS: 2,669

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

When her father handed her the Kiramman Key her mother wanted her to have, Caitlyn knew she was truly gone. She was now the leader of House Kiramman too soon, without the guidance of her mother, Cassandra. It was a position she deemed unworthy of, but her mother reassured her of the merit of her birthright. Only when she thought her relationship with her mother would progress, the world decided to strip that opportunity from her. 

Filled with grief, loss, and vengeance, especially after the attack at the memorial, Caitlyn decided to view what her mother had in store for her. First, it was the presentation of the ducts, the toxic air in the fissures contained by her mother’s instructions, allowing the people of The Undercity to breathe. She could use the passageways of the ventilation system and the Grey to locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco. Second, was a drawer of letters and photographs in a compartment at the bottom of the desk. It had nothing to do with the Kiramman Clan, but something to do with her mother’s personal life when she was younger.

The drawer seemed to be a memoir, maybe something left to be forgotten as dust covered its contents. Everything was held together with twine, completed with a battered tag, showing how old the letters and photographs were — possibly older than Caitlyn herself. She gently grabbed the bundle of memories in her hands, flipping the tag over to see what was written, the ink smudged by droplets. It wrote: My old love, in Cassandra’s handwriting. Her mother had a lover? 

Caitlyn swore her breath hitched when she untangled the twine to reveal the secrets Cassandra carried. She wanted to see who her mother loved so much, that she had a collection of their time together, but she wasn’t expecting several photographs of you to appear. After all, you were her mother’s childhood friend, her closest companion and confidant. 

It was clear in Caitlyn’s eyes that you two had a platonic relationship. Did she read it wrong? She saw you as an aunt, a second mother beside Cassandra; she never realized that her mother loved you romantically. This doesn’t make sense. You had a husband and children of your own, just like her mother. You and Cassandra would get together and gossip about your spouses and children. She had proof, she had accompanied you two when she was a little girl on several occasions. What did Caitlyn miss? What was kept hidden?

Did her mother love you more than her own husband? What about you? Did you love Cassandra too? Caitlyn flickered through the photographs, putting the letters aside for later, it was clear her mother was devoted to you. She never imagined her mother would ever use a camera to capture your beauty throughout your shared life. It felt uncharacteristic of her to do so, to have her mother be deeply in love with someone other than her father. 

Now that she thought about it. It seemed like Cassandra changed when you passed away. Gone was the warmth she wore on her sleeves as she became distant and even more stubborn, pretentious, and selfish, perfecting her façade as a politician. She now realized how her mother tried to tone down her grief during your burial, to appear as if she only lost a good friend. Caitlyn was too entangled in her own emotions of also losing you to realize how deeply your sudden death affected her mother. She was still too young to comprehend how you died, Cassandra never told her. It was too painful to recount.

Maybe all this time, Cassandra was still grieving your loss till the day she died, having failed to protect you and prevent your death, so much so that her efforts were transferred onto Caitlyn so she could avoid the same fate. She started to understand her mother’s actions a little more, not that she condoned them after the seclusion and restriction she felt all her life. Her mother meant well, even if it hurt. Cassandra didn’t want to lose Caitlyn as she lost you.

After observing each photograph, soon came the letters. Caitlyn skimmed from the oldest letter at the bottom pile to the newer ones at the top. These words were never meant to see the light of day, never meant for someone else to see, especially not you or an outsider like Caitlyn. She can’t believe how raw the emotions she felt from her mother’s words. Caitlyn cannot do justice to her mother’s letters by explaining their contents. You simply had to read them to feel Cassandra’s love for you, but you were gone, unaware that your dearest friend saw you as her whole world even if she could not display her heart at her sleeves due to the societal expectations in the past.

Caitlyn saw smears of ink in many places, making it hard for her to comprehend the smudged words, but she knew her mother cried writing and possibly reading them. These letters were a diary, a collection of paper with words akin to a symphony of her love for you. Caitlyn wondered if you were aware of Cassandra’s feelings and simply did not comment on it, or if you and her mother shared the same situation, loving each other in the shadows as your respective families were in the spotlight of attention.

Was writing letters something Cassandra did in her free time? Because there were so many, it would take Caitlyn some time to skim through all of them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but maybe her mother wanted someone to know her feelings unless this parcel was supposed to be discarded before Caitlyn took over as the Kiramman Clan Matriarch. Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but go through it, you meant a lot to her too, and she felt the connection between you two that had faded since your death years ago. The world had taken you and her mother too early, Caitlyn only had her father left, hoping his grief for Cassandra wouldn’t make his life wither and leave her too. 

The letters started with Cassandra realizing she loved you; appreciating your beauty from inside and out. She expressed in detail the moment she knew she was in love, from how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as your hair blew in the wind, the purple petals from the grand ivory-barked tree swayed with you. Caitlyn recognized it was the sacred place she and her mother shared near the fountain on the outskirts of the city, a place where they never argued and remembered your presence together.

“...We went to the place you enjoyed the most, Y/n. I came to share your love for this park because you were always there with me. I never thought you would take my breath away like you had today. You were beautiful, you have always been. 

Today felt different, however. The sight before me was something that came out of books. The wind picked up and your hair danced with the purple petals that floated around you. Your smile directed at me made it seem like I was in a fairytale my mother used to tell me as a child. It was a sight to behold, and I knew then and there, that I had fallen in love with you...”

The following letters were short, but filled with admiration and love. Cassandra appreciated you in many ways Caitlyn never knew in each letter, expressing her appreciation for everything you did, your character, appearance, and how you treated her. Her mother was so youthful, so happy whenever she was with you. It broke Caitlyn’s heart when the letters started to take on another tone; one of loss and hopelessness.

“...Why must society be this way, my love? Why am I prohibited from loving you the way you deserve? I am shackled by these expectations placed upon me, and I’m ashamed that I have to hide in the dark to be able to express my love. I’m a coward for not throwing everything away so I could love you publicly. I wish to have you by my side, to call you my lover, my beloved wife, without the consequences of society. I was overjoyed when I realized you loved me too, but it pained me that you were also hiding your love. You were as careful as I was with concealing how we felt for each other. Do you know that I love you too? I wish for you to know, but I’m scared of putting you in danger.

I wouldn’t know of your feelings if not for the day my parents announced my engagement. You had shown a crack of your true self from your poised façade. It pained me to see the sullen expression on your face. You tried to hide your turmoil, but I knew the news broke you as much as it did me. I wanted to cup your face and hold you in my embrace, to feel your warmth against mine as I whispered words of love, saying that we would still have each other as our duties befall us. 

I wanted to kiss your troubles away, but I did not let myself get carried away with such intimacy. Any hint of something more as friendship in anyone’s eyes would lead to forced separation… I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry, Y/n, but I need to build distance between us to avoid suspicion. Please forgive me… I despise myself for being powerless to protect you from the pain I would cause you…”

Caitlyn read the following letters, Cassandra expressed her guilt for keeping you at arm's length when all she wanted was to have all of you, to be with you the way you both wanted, but such a thing never happened when the two of you started your own families. She apologized in many letters as she realized how you started to pull away from her. Caitlyn tried her best to decipher the smudged words that filled the loose paper. Her mother didn’t want this, didn’t want to pretend she felt nothing for you other than a platonic friendship, that she didn’t love you. It was cruel. 

There was a large time gap between the letters. Caitlyn decided that her mother tried to focus on her duties as the Kiramman Matriarch and her relationship with Tobias by severing her attachments to the letters. Cassandra must’ve been carrying Caitlyn somewhere during this time, not wanting the memory of your relationship with her to cause stress and emotional turmoil during her months of pregnancy. 

The letter that followed was something close to reconciliation even if the distance was still there. You and Cassandra must’ve accepted the fate of your separated lives and decided to continue what was remaining of your friendship. Caitlyn was surprised she was the catalyst of this event. 

“...I was nervous about meeting you again after months of no contact, Y/n. I didn’t know what to expect after you distanced yourself from me. I still remember the pained expression on your face when I told you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I never hated myself so much for being the cause of your pain. I have never done anything but hurt you. So, I was in disbelief when you easily agreed to the invitation I sent out of the blue to meet Caitlyn. 

You must’ve laughed at my audacity for wanting you back after pushing you out of my life, that you only agreed to this because your kind husband convinced you so. I hate to say I’m relieved you have wedded a respectful man. I know you are safe in his hands when I can’t be there to do the same. 

I was faced with an impassive demeanor when you arrived at the Kiramman residence, and I didn’t know if our friendship could be salvaged, but when you held Caitlyn, I saw a glimmer of love shine in your eyes. The smile that broke from your façade when you cradled my daughter with so much care made my heart swell at the sight. Then you met my gaze, and it felt like that day in the park all over again. I knew I was still in love with you, and you felt the same, even as our love dwelled in pain and loss because of the world we live in…”

The last letter on the pile was tattered compared to the other ones. It was difficult to understand because of the ink smudges, shaky handwriting, and teardrops… Caitlyn knew what this letter was about and could see how her mother struggled to write this one. The unshakeable grief that filled this page hurt Caitlyn. This must’ve been the fork Cassandra faced when she decided that writing more letters would only cause her more pain than solace as she thought about you.

“...I failed you, my love. I failed to protect you from your curiosity and compassion for The Undercity. The world was too cruel to take you from me, our relationship had only begun to blossom its fruits. The time we spent rebuilding what was lost… How could I sleep at night, knowing I could’ve prevented your death? I will never be able to live with the guilt of hurting you even until your last breath. 

I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve been more open-minded about creating the ventilation system for people of the fissures. Was this the world’s response to my selfishness, to take you away from me? I feel so empty without you, the grief is tearing away at me. I couldn’t bear hearing Caitlyn’s cries when I told her you would no longer be with us to spoil her, to love her like your own. 

Everything that happened to you is all my fault. No amount of apologies would bring you back, but I am so sorry, Y/n. The Grey I could’ve contained with my influence and resources ate at your life, poisoned your lungs, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

It tore at my heart to see you fighting for your life, hooked to machines, but everything was a lost cause when the grip of your hand on mine loosened and lay limp between my own. Your eyes became distant and empty as the light in them faded, but you still held the smile I fell in love with, muttering the words I longed to hear for decades: ‘I love you, Cassandra.’ I couldn’t respond in time, I failed to say that I love you too… because you were already gone… 

I promise I will let the people of The Undercity breathe, just as you had wished, my love…”

Caitlyn now understood why her mother completed the project. She did it for you. It was a grand and equally dangerous project that took many lives and resources to complete, and here Caitlyn was, planning to unleash the gas that killed you to look for a criminal who killed her mother and many others. 

After reading the letters, Caitlyn wondered several things. Would her mother be happy again, now that she has reunited with you in the afterlife? Would she be able to express her love after hiding her true feelings for you for so long? Caitlyn hopes she can because she knows how much her mother was alive when you were around, even in moments of joy and sadness. She wanted her mother to be happy again despite the pain in her heart that she was no longer there with her and her father.

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

“I finally got to see you again, my love… Oh, how I missed you so… My life was never the same when you left… I can’t believe you’re back in my life… and in my arms… I love you too, Y/n… I love you so, so much, dearest.”

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[thewalrusespublicist]

I straight up don’t think that story in skywriting set in Paris ever even remotely happened, I think this is John working through the mix of complex feelings he has about Paul in some sort of semi autobiographical fantasy/thought experiment type thing? I think it’s undeniable it’s about Paul, but wether or not the contents of it are true is a little more suspect, the thing is it’s not the point to me, like, the fact that he’s fantasising about having passionate hate love sex with his boy bestie is the real convicting evidence 😭

Hi Anon,

Pretty much entirely agree! Not going to lie, I love this section of Skywriting as it’s so tantalising. Like what's fact and what's fiction? Where does fantasy overtake the narrative entirely and when does reality trickle through? The line between the two is often blurred in Skywriting as it is in most of John’s creative work.

As to it being an entirely fantastical thought experiment or a semi-autobiographical, I think I lean towards the latter only in the broadest sense.

*One sec, lemme adjust my tin-hat.*

I’m pretty much on the bandwagon that this section is a highly embellished, fantastical account of the summer of 66’ or a pastiche of trips to Paris. John, as he does elsewhere in Skywriting, obscures or replaces the real life event or word with clever wordplay and surrealist imagery. Instead of putting that he was acting abroad in Spain, he uses a play on ‘method acting’ to come up with ‘methodist acting’ and invents a more ‘exotic’ location of Jamaica. Edit 1: @this-never-happened-before has kindly informed me that the British capital of Jamaica was called 'Spanish Town' and Spanish Town still exists as the Capital of St Catherine's province. It's nowhere near definitive proof of course but it's really interesting to think about and could explain if John was thinking of summer 66' why he chose Jamaica as a substitute for Spain. Instead of saying he met up with Paul and co in Paris, he gets a summons from Aime to go to Paris. Whilst the name Aime is obviously part of the allusions to homosexuality and the surreal angle, ‘aime’ nevertheless means ‘friend’ in french. Less discussed is the fact that Aime is also a comrade, which by definition is a friend or someone who works in the same organisation as you or is a fellow soldier. ‘Military buddies’ anyone? So he’s being summoned by someone he defines as being his friend and ‘brother-in-arms’. Pinning it down further to the summer of 66’ is the ‘God Only Knows’ reference. This to me is where I threw my hands up because well, wouldn’t you know guess whose favourite song it is and who played it to death in 66’:

(On the influence of Pet sounds on John)

PAUL: I played it to John so much that it would be difficult for him to escape the influence. If records had a director within a band, I sort of directed Pepper. And my influence was basically the Pet Sounds album. John was influenced by it, perhaps not as much as me. It was certainly a record we all played – it was the record of the time, you know?

Edit 2: I've discussed this a bit in the comments but thought it should go here in the main ask. To me it seems really unlikely that John, who lived and breathed music, communicated to his friends in coded song lyrics and measured time periods by songs (according to Mintz) would not have an especial association with Paul and God Only Knows, especially as Paul would not let up on how much he loved it. Loving someone romantically or platonically means remembering little details like that.

Furthermore, I did a bit more digging and found that John himself loved Pet Sounds but he never mentioned God Only Knows as one he particularly loved. I did however notice an anecdote from Alice Cooper recalling John talking to Brian Wilson about Pet Sounds in the mid 70s. In it John discusses Pet Sounds as something both he and Paul admired together.

''Hello Brian, I’ve always wanted to meet you. I’ve always admired your work, and Paul and I considered Pet Sounds one of the best albums ever made.''

To add to all this, you have:

staying at the George V, the same place John and Paul stayed at when they went to Paris the second time in 64’ (I couldn't find where they stayed in 66’ but it may have been the same hotel).

 ‘the underlying bastard’ of their relationship which has many possible meanings when it comes to John and Paul (jealousy, competitiveness etc.)

 dating of ‘three months’ before a big fall out. Three months takes us nowhere … but three years takes us to 1969 when things really started to go to hell for them

Then leaving in a seething rage but being like a force fed baby about them… a pretty great description of growing up loving someone and spending so much time with them from a young age or just being bombarded with information and memories about someone like John was with Paul in the 70s

Pure tin hat bollocks ignore me but the 'don't take me for granite Perry', 'Never' I sang reminds me so much of the Oh! Darling recording sessions.

The move from the third to first person in the last part of the section. It could be John acting as an omniscient narrator or revealing that there are certain truths to the story that affect him personally

 ‘To this day, his memories of her are clear and fresh.  Like a force-fed baby, he’ll never forget, and neither, I hope, will she.’’

So yes, whilst I am open to it being coincidental and just pure fantasy, I do think it is at the very least a little inspired by that summer or by his trips to Paris in general. But if the Aime is/is inspired by anyone real, it’s Paul. Aside from the history of Paris in their relationship and the God Only Knows reference, there’s also that John’s Mon Pau Pau demo:

Source: https://got-ticket-to-ride.tumblr.com/post/733073861959139328/john-chanelling-a-french-singer-in-an-audio-from (thank you @got-ticket-to-ride, I don't know how the hell you got hold of this but amazing you did)

I’m unsure with the transcription of the ‘garter … prod’ as Dogget could be right and it’s cartier … throat (though as an aside it’s always wild to me that his transcription removes the Pau Pau section, surely he knew enough about the Beatles + solo work to immediately get the reference and significance?) Nevertheless, John’s in this demo places Paul in the role of a coquettish women which would give the section of Skywriting precedence.

So if it’s potentially autobiographical, how true is the sleeping together bit? Honestly, I agree that I doubt they did it for too many reasons to go into here. But then why on earth has he written this? The tone of the passage is quite light-hearted so I don't think it's delving into any real feeling of angst or forbidden desire. Edit 3: @idontwanttospoiltheparty has raised that there isn't any real reason that John couldn't be playfully writing out a fantasy about Paul for various reasons. Considering John's mercurial moods towards Paul and the playful demo, I am inclined to agree that this was an oversight on my part and perfectly plausible. Aside from playful exploration or a personal joke about the potential boundary-crossing of their relationship, John could be describing their songwriting process. I can't find them right now (which is driving me crazy) but there are a few quotes from Paul which talk about John and Paul taking it in turns to 'turn each other on' with their music. Maybe John was riffing off that supplanting the intense, emotional act of songwriting with sex? Or maybe Paul was a very loose inspiration and the characters and their sexual relationships became their own. It's so hard to decide and discern but absolutely, the fact that he is potentially willing to go there in his mind indicates at least some acknowledgement that maybe feelings/ the relationship wasn't 1000 percent platonic or blurred the boundaries of a standard heterosexual male friendship for the time.

[sunflowerhazel]

I keep seeing posts about people saying that the only reason Christian Linke called Viktor ace was in a sloppy, homophobic attempt to try and get people to stop shipping Jayvik. And like, yes, 1000% I agree with that statement.

But I haven't actually seen a lot of people explain why this argument is stupid from an asexual perspective, so let me be your queer older sister and let you in on a couple ace secrets:

Sexual and romantic attraction are not always the same. This is known as the split-attraction model, and it's one of the reasons why talking about sexuality can be so difficult sometimes. Sometimes, the people you are romantically interested in do not always coincide with the people you are sexually attracted to.

This might be why some people are bisexual, but they only ever date people of a certain gender (obviously there's many factors that go into who we date and why but let's live in a hypothetical world for a moment where you could instantly date or have sex with whoever you want).

To some people, this distinction is very important! For a majority of the population, their romantic and sexual interests overlap. If a man tells you he's gay, it's safe to assume is he only attracted to other men, both romantically and sexually. In fact, having split attraction is so rare that most of us don't think of it as a possibility! That being said, some people will refer to themselves as homoromantic bisexual (will only date members of the same gender, but are sexually attracted to multiple genders), or heterosexual homoromantic (only want to date members of the opposite gender, but are sexually attracted to only the same gender), or whatever else!!! Human sexuality is weird and fluid, gender is weird and fluid, and if the split-attraction model makes the most sense for you then that's great!

Ok, so what does that have to do with Viktor? Well, in the same way that someone might be homosexual heteroromantic or whatever, some people are asexual romantic-- meaning, they don't feel sexual attraction (asexual), but they still feel romantic attraction.

Of course, some people are aro/ace, meaning they don't experience sexual or romantic attraction at all. Others can be homosexual aromantic, or asexual biromantic, or whatever else!

In Viktor's case, even if he was always meant to be asexual, and that's not just a last-minute addition, he can still experience romantic attraction. That's the beauty of the split-attraction model; asexual people can still date and fall in love, and aromantic people can still seek out and enjoy sex. (Wait until you find out that asexual people can also actively seek out and enjoy sex! Although that's a conversation for another time.)

So yeah. TL;DR, Viktor being ace doesn't actually mean much when it comes to whether or not he's in love with Jayce. Headcannon the characters however you want, it's all valid and cool, but if Christian Linke actually wanted to deter shipping he should have called Viktor aro/ace, not just ace.

[abtrusion]

Theories of the holy shit what did I just see back there on the street?

Because transmisogyny makes them so impossible to ignore, for at least the last 70 years transfeminized people have served as key material of Anglo-American gender/queer/trans theories, as laundered through anthropology, sexology, and uncited personal witnessing. The anaemic denial of this fact through snappy and surface-level distinctions between ‘queer’ and ‘trans’ and between different transfeminized groups has made it functionally impossible for these theories to seriously account for transf* life, and this failure is highly productive, because it allows for the continued use of both ‘premodern’ ‘third gender’ and ‘postmodern’ transgenderism as lobotomized material for the theories of other people. The last century of gender theoretic development has revolved around slowly refining methods of extracting transfeminized peoples’ insight, forgetting and re-introducing them to their field over and over again to frame them as perpetual novelties, leading to a pernicious form of feminist amnesia that repeats over and over again.

1 . MARGARET MEAD (1949)

The work begins with Margaret Mead, the ‘most famous anthropologist of our century’ (Behar and Gordon 1996), who made her career studying indigenous groups in Samoa and New Guinea, then joined the larger anthropological effort to inform the US Government’s genocidal re-education campaigns against Indigenous American tribes. She later enjoyed a prodigious career as a public intellectual and shifted to more explicitly feminist writing which extensively influenced the movements of the 60s and 70s. Mead argued that essentially all sex-gender roles were culturally determined, and used the specter of the transfeminized homosexual-transvestite both to make that argument and to advocate for gender abolition.

This can be seen most clearly in Mead’s 1949 book Male and Female: a Study of the Sexes in a Changing World. Mead chronologically traces individual gender development through an ethnographic-sexological narrative, beginning with ‘first learnings’ that a child receives primarily through observation. Then the family comes in, and the transvestite comes with it, existing as the primary motive (alongside Freudian sexual attachment) which motivates gendered socialization:

Too great softness, too great passivity, in the male and he will not become a man. The American Plains Indians, valuing courage in battle above all other qualities, watched their little boys with desperate intensity, and drove a fair number of them to give up the struggle and assume women’s dress. (Mead 1949)

Mead argues that “fear that boys will be feminine in behavior may drive many boys into taking refuge in explicit femininity,” but makes a distinction between this identification and what she calls ‘full transvestitism,’ the culturally-specific recognition of that status. This differential leads her to conclude that the physical traits seen as markers of ‘gender inversion’ are culturally specific, and that what is understood as physical sex (then existing on a ‘spectrum’ model) is therefore partially socially determined.

For Mead, gender must be abolished precisely because of the fact that she could even make this argument. As she says,

Only a denial of life itself makes it possible to deny the interdependence of the sexes. Once that interdependence is recognized and traced in minute detail to the infant’s first experience of the contrast between the extra roughness of a shaven cheek and a deeper voice and his mother’s softer skin and higher voice, any programme which claims that the wholeness of one sex can be advanced without considering the other is automatically disallowed.

The desperate need to reproduce these distinctions, to make sex clear and visible and obvious, leads Mead to ultimately argue for a gender abolition that rests on complementary sex-roles. The main benefit of this approach for Mead is the complete eradication of sex-gender ‘confusion’ and its incarnation in transfeminized people, so associated precisely because of their intense usefulness as a tool for undermining sex-gender distinctions. So Mead sees the construction of physical and social gender by using transfeminized people as a lens, but because of her own disgust she can only fix gender by unseeing it again, by displacing gender to ‘real’ physical sex and protecting herself by breaking the tool. This, unsurprisingly, leaves her exactly where she started.

2. BETTY FRIEDAN (1963)

The feminist theorists that came after Mead directly confronted this reversion to ‘complementary sex’ logics, most notably in Betty Friedan’s foundational work The Feminine Mystique. Friedan discusses the ‘paradox’ of Mead’s influence, the strange combination of her exposure of ‘the infinite variety of sexual patterns and the enormous plasticity of human nature’ and her ‘glorification of women in the female role – as defined by their sexual biological function.’ In the middle, Friedan cites a page-long quote describing a point of ambivalent warning in Mead’s writing:

The difference between the two sexes is one of the important conditions upon which we have built the many varieties of human culture that give human beings dignity and stature… Sometimes one quality has been assigned to one sex, sometimes to the other. Now it is boys who are thought of as infinitely vulnerable and in need of special cherishing care, now it is girls… Some people think of women as too weak to work out of doors, others regard women as the appropriate bearers of heavy burdens “because their heads are stronger than men’s” … Some religions, including our European traditional religions, have assigned women an inferior role in the religious hierarchy, others have built their whole symbolic relationship with the supernatural world upon male imitations of the biological functions of women. (emph added by me)

...Are we dealing with a must that we dare not flout because it is rooted so deep in our biological mammalian nature that to flout it means individual and social disease? Or with a must that, although not so deeply rooted, still is so very socially convenient and so well tried that it would be uneconomical to flout it…

...We must also ask: What are the potentialities of sex differences? … If little boys have to meet and assimilate the early shock of knowing that they can never create a baby with the sureness and incontrovertibility that is a woman’s birthright, how does this make them more creatively ambitious, as well as more dependent upon achievement?

Friedan attributes this ultimate focus on sexual difference to Mead’s Freudianism: she argues that Mead’s need to approach culture and personality through sexual difference, combined with her anthropological understanding that ‘there are no true-for-every-culture sexual differences except those involved in the act of procreation’ (Friedan and Quindlen 1963), combines to cause her to inflate the cultural importance of the reproductive role of women. Friedan intensely rebukes this reification of reproduction as another component of the ‘feminine mystique’ (very close to the modern ‘divine feminine’), advocating for programs which enable women to reject the mystique and housewife status and to seek education and employment, to combat the problem ‘which had no name’ but takes shape through spikes in female ‘sex-hunger’ and ‘overt manifestations’ of passive male homosexuality, both understood as ‘children acting out the sexual phantasies of their housewife-mothers.’ In a paradoxical return to Freudianism, Friedan characterizes husbands unwilling to let their wives work as being seduced ‘by the infantile phantasy of having an ever-present mother’ (the Freudian homosexuality-signifier), associating antifeminism with passive homosexuality with femininity which the aspiring feminist has escaped, learning to compete “not as a woman, but as a human being.”

3. THE MULTIPLICATION OF TRANSFEMINIZED SUBJECTS

As we can see, transfeminized subjects are frequently used as signs of system collapse, hypervisible enough to be easy examples and potent enough to rhetorically corrode existing sex-gender systems in preparation for the author’s own vision. Once a piece is published, these examples are usually then forgotten, assumed as scaffolding for the real theory; but the rhetorical strawmen of these transfeminized subjects still remain, trapped implicitly in the text, and they bleed into one another with every new addition to the corpus, every call to action invoking a new transfeminized archetype.

So far we have seen Mead’s anthropological-orientalist framing of ‘transvestitism’ among the anthropological Other and Friedan’s psychological framing of ‘passive homosexuality’ in the United States. The increasing visibility of adult ‘transsexuality,’ somewhat disjoint from the developmental sexology Gill-Peterson (2017) discusses because of its visibility in high-profile cases like Christine Jorgensen, was likewise framed for theory. Harold Garfinkel’s (1967) book Studies in Ethnomethodology, which described methods for observing ‘the objective reality of social facts as an ongoing accomplishment,’ used an intersex woman named Agnes as an avenue to expose how everyday social facts are constructed. Agnes was an ideal exemplar because her insistence on getting HRT and being seen as a woman was considered psychologically normal: “Such insistence was not accompanied by clinically interesting ego defects. These persons contrast in many interesting ways with transvestites, trans-sexualists, and homosexuals.” Of course, Garfinkel was later notified that Agnes did not have an intersex condition, and he then noted that ‘this news turned the article into a feature of the same circumstances it reported, i.e. into a situated report.’

Anyways, now it’s time for yet another transfeminized subject: the ‘transsexually constructed lesbian feminist.’

4. JANICE RAYMOND (1979)

As with her predecessors, Raymond sees analytical power in her particular transfeminized group, arguing that “transsexualism goes to the question of what gender is, how to challenge it, and what reinforces gender stereotypes in a role-defined society.” But she also has some concerns for ‘transsexual women,’ initially assumed heterosexual, none of which are particularly novel or interesting. Now that she’s writing in an environment dominated by Friedan’s mandate towards shedding femininity, feminist amnesia makes it novel to regurgitate Margaret Mead’s responses: that “male transsexualism may well be a graphic expression of the destruction that sex-role molding has wrought on men,” and that “men recognize the power that women have by virtue of female biology and the fact that this power, symbolized in giving birth, is not only procreative but multidimensionally creative” (Raymond 1979).

Her analysis of (new archetype) ‘transsexually-constructed lesbian feminism’ is much more interesting. While Raymond can understand heterosexual transsexual women as ‘reinforcing gender stereotyping’ by pulling primarily from medical archives already hegemonized by gatekeeping and passing requirements, the transsexual women in the lesbian-feminist movement achieved a certain degree of personal contact and visibility that undermined ‘hegemonizing’ logics. So Raymond uses three main arguments: an essentialist appeal to fundamental ‘maleness,’ a red-scare-esque appeal to transsexual lesbian feminists as ‘court eunuchs’ bent on monitoring and controlling feminist spaces, and finally, an argument that transsexual lesbian feminists are fundamentally epistemically corrosive to lesbian feminist spaces:

Whereas the lesbian-feminist crosses the boundary of her patriarchally imposed sex role, the transsexually constructed lesbian-feminist is a boundary violator. This violation is also profoundly mythic, for as Norman O. Brown writes of Dionysus, he as the ‘‘mad god who breaks down boundaries.’’

Contrary to contemporary transmisogynistic discourse which frames trans lesbians as personal threats to women in lesbian-feminist spaces, this violation takes its form not in any particular act but in the act of passing, the deconstructive question this existence seemingly automatically places on lesbian-feminist spaces:

One of the most constraining questions that transsexuals, and, in particular, transsexually constructed lesbian-feminists, pose is the question of self-definition—who is a woman, who is a lesbian-feminist? But, of course, they pose the question on their terms, and we are faced with answering it.

Raymond notes with some frustration that this transsexual question has been discussed ‘out of proportion to their actual numbers,’ using up valuable feminist energy, and frames this as a symptom and crime of transsexual lesbianism itself. The trans question is transsexual women; like the theorists before her, she sees transfeminized people as a gaping hole in the gendered world, but now they’re inside her house, feeding “off woman’s true energy source, i.e., her woman-identified self,” and inherently stand to break “the boundaries of what constitutes femaleness,” to dissolve lesbian-feminism itself.

I want to stress two main points in all of this. First, Raymond understands studying transsexualism as a crucial tool for answering ‘the question of what gender is’ and ‘how to challenge it.’ Second, Raymond’s anxiety about transsexual lesbian-feminists moves away from specific actions and towards the ‘penetration’ inherent in their existence in these spaces at all, the understanding that transsexual women are inherently corrosive to lesbian-feminist movements. These two points are clearly linked. Raymond understands transsexuality as a form of epistemic gender acid, something that can be useful at arm’s length but is deadly up close. Of course, the transfeminized people she discusses were not necessarily invested in asking the Trans Question themselves; trans women attended lesbian-feminist events like Michfest before and after their trans exclusion policies, and regardless of ‘passing’ many people enjoyed a form of don’t ask don’t tell (Tagonist 1997). But within these spaces, the Trans* Question long predated the actual existence of transfeminized people – so once they arrived, the Question and person were fundamentally linked. Trans theorists have negotiated this association extensively, but that’s not the topic of this essay, so I’ll leave you with some sources (Stryker 1994; Stone 1992) and move to Butler.

5. JUDITH BUTLER (1990)

This work has been done already by Vivian Namaste (2020), who argues that “contemporary discussions of Anglo-American feminist theory, exemplified in Butler’s work, begin with the Transgender Question as a way to narrow our focus to the constitution, reproduction, and resignification of gender.” This singular focus on the ‘Transgender Question’ has made it functionally impossible for Anglo-American feminist theory to consider the outsized role of work, particularly sex work, in motivating the discrimination and violence against transfeminized people of color: “framing violence against transsexual prostitutes as ‘gender violence’ is a radical recuperation of these events and their causal nature-a violence at the level of epistemology itself.”

Namaste attributes this focus on featureless ‘gender violence’ to a crippling lack of empiricism, a lack of researcher-subject equity, and an exclusion of subject knowledges. She provides an effective power-based solution to this epistemic violence – that feminist theorists should talk with the subjects of their theory and give them some measure of power in the transaction – a sort of endpoint analysis which means she doesn’t need to consider too much of the internals of the system she’s challenging. That’s a good idea for her work, but with the benefit of history we can move differently. The next section synthesizes Butler, Friedan, Mead, and Raymond together to provide a functionalist analysis of the feminist theoretic use of transfeminized people. What are the benefits of using transfeminized people as an epistemic tool in feminist theory? What are the dangers of using this epistemic tool, and how does feminist theory manage those dangers?

6. PATTERNS OF EXTRACTION AND DEFENSE

Looking past Butler and further into the past reveals that transfeminized people have been crucial not just to the feminist theory of the past 20 years, but have served as exemplars as far back as the 1940s. The ‘Trans* Question,’ which frames transfeminized people as the most visible signifier and most horrifying symptom of social gender, has been cyclically used in a form of feminist cultural amnesia:

A transfeminized group serves as a hypervisible example to 'deconstruct' social gender

Transfeminized deconstruction bloats beyond itself, undermining 'sex traits' or 'femaleness' or some other foundational category of feminist analysis.

Reconstruction of gender as 'biological sex,' alliance between feminist theorists and men of all stripes by arguing that post-gender eradication of transfeminized people will (a) allow men to be feminine without becoming women or (b) destroy femininity entirely.

New-generation feminist theorists realize their predecessors have reinvented social gender. Return to (1).

As Margaret Mead’s work shows, the use of transfeminized groups to deconstruct both physical and social gender has been observed regardless of transmedicalization. This helical pattern has a few general properties:

Each cycle introduces a distinct transfeminized group, positioning it against prior groups as uniquely suitable for analysis, but simultaneously blurs the new group into the existing melange.

This "Trans* Queston" is almost entirely devoid of group-specific context and rooted in transmisogyny, which positions them as horrifying and visible symptoms of social gender.

Each "Trans* Question" initially exposes social gender, but constantly threatens to dissolve other categories or even the theorist's own writing as socially constructed, against the theorist's will.

Each new cycle demonstrates near-complete historical amnesia as to the relevance of transfeminized people in the prior theoretical move.

So the “Trans* Question” allows for the basic feminist move, asserting that gender is socially constructed, but if improperly controlled it stands to dissolve virtually any definition feminist theorists try to build. To be clear, I do not believe in the total deconstruction of categories – you need definitions, even ones you acknowledge as imprecise, to say anything at all. But transfeminized people probably have pretty solid ideas about gender, having to, you know, live with it. The alienated ‘Trans Question*’ has none of this insight, appearing instead as a gaping epistemic hole in the world, and so feminist theorists are forced to come up with complicated quarantining measures to keep the Question from spilling over.

What jeopardizes feminist theory’s use of the Question? One answer (among many) comes by looking at Mead, who concluded that physical characteristics seen as ‘sex traits’ were socially constructed by looking at the culture-specific construction of what she called ‘full transvestitism.’ In this case, the Question undermined sex when the social position of transfeminized subjects were seen as simultaneously normative and anti-normative, existing in some normative ‘social’ role while being understood as distinct from non-transfeminized subjects via another ‘natural’ axis. The fact that these splits were made differently across different transfeminized groups undermined the distinction between social and ‘natural/biological’ aspects of gender, and because the alienated Question provides no means of making anything solid out of any of this, Mead retreated to the womb.

So understanding that the Question allows for the deconstruction of gender, and that it overgrows when multiple (studied as) semi-normative transfeminized groups are cross-compared with one another, we can consider aspects of contemporary feministqueertrans theory that enforce the epistemic isolation and normativization/antinormativization of transfeminized groups. The knots this ties in feminist theories seem relevant both to the ‘why does trans theory exist’ question posed by Chu & Drager (2019) and to the challenges and limitations of applying queer/trans theory to groups outside the anglosphere (Chiang 2021, Savci 2021). I’ll discuss that more in another essay.

SOURCES

Behar, Ruth, and Deborah A. Gordon. 1996. Women Writing Culture. First Edition. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Chiang, Howard. 2021. Transtopia in the Sinophone Pacific. Columbia University Press.

Chu, Andrea Long, and Emmett Harsin Drager. 2019. “After Trans Studies.” TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly 6 (1): 103–16. https://doi.org/10.1215/23289252-7253524.

Friedan, Betty, and Anna Quindlen. 1963. The Feminine Mystique. Reprint edition. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.

Garfinkel, Harold. 1967. Studies in Ethnomethodology. 1st edition. Cambridge Oxford Malden,MA: Polity.

Gill-Peterson, Jules. 2017. “Implanting Plasticity into Sex and Trans/Gender.” Angelaki 22 (2): 47–60. https://doi.org/10.1080/0969725X.2017.1322818.

Mead, Margaret. 1949. Male and Female: A Study of the Sexes in a Changing World. First Edition. William Morrow.

Namaste, Viviane. 2020. “Undoing Theory: The ‘Transgender Question’ and the Epistemic Violence of Anglo-American Feminist Theory.” In Feminist Theory Reader, edited by Carole McCann, Seung-kyung Kim, and Emek Ergun, 5th edition. New York, NY London: Routledge.

Raymond, Janice G. 1979. The Transsexual Empire: The Making of the She-Male. New York: Teachers College Press.

Savci, Evren. 2021. Queer in Translation: Sexual Politics Under Neoliberal Islam. Durham (N.C.): Duke University Press Books.

Stone, Sandy. 1992. “The Empire Strikes Back: A Posttranssexual Manifesto.” Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture, and Media Studies 10 (2 (29)): 150–76. https://doi.org/10.1215/02705346-10-2_29-150.

Stryker, Susan. 1994. “My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage.” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 1 (3): 237–54. https://doi.org/10.1215/10642684-1-3-237.

Tagonist, Anne. 1997. “Sister Subverter Diary August ’97.” Unapologetic: The Journal of Irresponsible Gender.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Louise Brooks (Pandora's Box, Diary of a Lost Girl)—Louise Brooks started off as a dancer and went to work in the Follies before going to Hollywood. Disappointed with her roles there, she went to Germany and proceeded to make Pandora's Box, the first film to show a lesbian on-screen (not her but one of her many doomed admirers in the film), and Diary of a Lost Girl, both of which are considered two of the greatest films of the 20th century. She helped popularize the bob and natural acting, acting far more subtly than her contemporaries who treated the camera as a stage audience. After the collapse of her film career and a remarkably rough patch as a high-end sex worker, she was rediscovered and did film criticism, notably "Lulu in Hollywood," which Rodger Ebert called "indispensable." Also, christ. Look at her.

Ruth Weyher (Secrets of a Soul, Warning Shadows)—my vintage crush

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Louise Brooks propaganda:

"Defined the style of the modern flapper. A gaze that could make a stone fall in love."

"Louise Brooks left a legend far greater than her real achievement as an actress, but even today few people have seen her films. In our own time, the fascination with Brooks seems to have begun in 1979 with a profile by Kenneth Tynan in the New Yorker, which revealed that the actress who made her last movie in 1938 was alive and living in Rochester, N.Y. Such was the power of Tynan's prose that people began to seek out her existing films, primarily this one, to discover what the fuss was about. What we see here is a healthy young woman -- she was 23 when the film was released -- with whom the camera, under G.W. Pabst's influence, is fascinated. There is a deep paradox in Brooks and her career: the American girl who found success in the troubled Europe between two wars; the vivid personality who briefly dazzled two continents but faded into obscurity; the liberated woman who had affairs with such prominent men as CBS founder William S. Paley as well as with women including (by her account) Greta Garbo but wound up a solitary recluse. And all of this seems perfectly in keeping with her most celebrated role in Pandora's Box. For despite her bright vitality, her flashing dark eyes and brilliant smile, Brooks's Lulu becomes the ultimate femme fatale, careering her way toward destruction, not only of her lovers but eventually of herself."

"She invented having bangs to indicate that you have borderline personality disorder"

"chances are if youve ever seen a "flapper girl" character or even just art of a generic flapper type made after the 20s it was based on her appearance - particularly the bob hairstyle! she had some pretty rough experiences through her life before during and after her tumultuous acting career which ended in 1938 but she made it to the 80s, wrote an autobiography and did a lot of interviews that she was never afraid of being honest in about her own life or peers of the age, and apparently was unabashed about some affairs she had with well known women (including greta garbo!!)"

"She read Proust and Schopenhauer on set between sets. She was one of the original flappers/new women of the 1920s. She had a one night stand with Garbo and was the inspiration for Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Truly a stone cold fox."

"on her wikipedia page it says her biographer said she "loved women as a homosexual man, rather than as a lesbian, would love them" and while i have no idea if this is true or not i thought that was very gender of her"

"despite being american she was big in german expressionist films and thus her aesthetic was unmatched!!"

So far ahead of her time in regard to portraying complicated women. Timeless elegance. "I learned to act by watching Martha Graham dance, and I learned to dance by watching Charlie Chaplin act.” - Louise Brooks

Ruth Weyher propaganda:

[rigginsstreet]

Steve should have cheated on Nancy with Billy

I mean when would he have had the time Nancy broke up with him like 2 minutes after he met Billy lmao

BUT

I do love a sloppy steve moment so imagine with me if you will:

Steve is happy in love with his girlfriend. Life is going great as far as he’s concerned. He’s at a Halloween party all dressed up dancing the night away with his girl. What could be better than this

He ends up in the kitchen at one point to get him and Nancy some more lunch. He’s still got a bounce in his step, grinning from ear to ear. Maybe he can convince Nancy to neck in the car later before she has to go home or he can sneak into her room… whichever

But then the new guy is suddenly at his shoulder, probably waiting for his turn at the punch. Steve’s all “oh hey man here you go” and makes to leave but billy starts his whole king Steve thing except this time without any venom. He’s being super flirty about it and Steve “never met a homosexual” Harrington is super confused and absolutely not picking up what Billy’s putting down so he leaves the exchange bewildered but also kinda horny for some reason… he’s probably just drunk. Whatever

Cut to Steve in the bathroom taking a piss when billy stumbles in all “oh oops my bad” like genuinely didn’t know anyone was in here but once he sees it’s Steve he goes from 😳 to 😏

Gets ESPECIALLY excited when he sees Steve’s dick is still hanging out and wooo boy that thing is impressive.

And Steve’s all awkward fumbling trying to get out like “oh yeah it’s fine I’ll just go lol” but then billy starts flirting with him again, starts talking about what a nice looking dick he has cuz billys just drunk enough to be a little too forward for his own good and Steve’s never had another guy talk about his dick outside of like locker room banter and it’s this sweaty shirtless guy with nice tits - wait what who said that - and Steve won’t lie he’s kinda getting hard about it…

So anyway cut to billy on his knees giving Steve a blowie in the bathroom that rocks Steve’s world and awakens him to some homosexual desires he previously did not have and billy sends him out back to his girlfriend and calls it’s a night

And the rest of the night Steve is thinking about billy and his mouth. Thinks about it when he’s fucking Nancy in the back of his beemer. Thinks about it the next day at school when they’re meant to be studying in the library. DEFINITELY thinks about it during basketball practice when hargroves rubbing all over him in those tight little shorts and like

Steve is NOT gay. Has never been gay. Him dragging Billy into the equipment closet after practice is just like…a fluke. An experiment to see if his drunk mind is still possessing his sober one.

But after a week of messy hook ups in janitors closets and under bleachers and the quarry on a Saturday morning steve doesn’t think he can keep blaming being drunk anymore…

[charlotte-official]

4/15/24 - 4/25/24

THE STEAMBIRD

a/n: ahhhhh I am horrible at keeping up with the schedule I set for myself. HOPEFULLY, however, I'll be able to do better from here on out- especially since summer break is coming up soon!!

headlines: house of the hearth has no rejects, go away il dottore. red haired winery owner is not your daddy. legal advisor helps gay exorcist come out to parents. boys who live with wolves and cat girls are stinky, dawn winery owner says. light of ksharewar angers “the horde” for denying homosexuality. artifacts make super goose, harbinger overthrown.

written by @charnverite

HOUSE OF THE HEARTH HAS NO REJECTS, GO AWAY IL DOTTORE

WARNING: IL DOTTORE IS NOT A LEGITIMATE DOCTOR YOU WANT TO BE SENDING YOUR CHILDREN TO GET CHECKED UP. THIS IS A FORMAL WARNING FROM THE STEAMBIRD. PLEASE DO NOT TRY TO SEEK HIM OUT EXPECTING MIRACLES AND CANDY.

On April 23, Il Dottore asked Arlecchino for the House of the Hearth's rejects, to which she swiftly declined. What transpired was a small argument between the Fatui Harbingers, Il Dottore throwing petty insults here and there before giving up and deciding to leave Arlecchino alone.

Il Dottore, or the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, is known for his wild, cruel, and sadistic nature. The Doctor is infamous for his experiments, being known to go to inhumane and disgusting degrees. Dottore, in approaching the Knave, Arlecchino, the House of the Hearth's director and 4th Fatui Harbinger, asked for the said "rejects" of her "children." To this, the Knave curtly responded with less than 5 words: "No. ♥️"

"He wanted me to send any "rejects" to him. He planned to experiment on them and then share the results with me." ~Arlecchino, The Knave, 4th Fatui Harbinger. Talking about The Doctor - Statement obtained by the Traveler.

The Doctor found himself to be bewildered to be treated with such a simplistic and dismissive statement, replying "Well fuck you too, you bitch. It would’ve been better if your mother won that fight." Arlecchino would continue to respond quickly and calmly as Dottore continuously shot insults at the woman who called him a cunt once. Sarcastically, Dottore would tell her to die and Arlecchino would tell the man that that is his job. He would then give up, saying he'll leave her children alone.

While the Knave may have been able to bore Il Dottore away by being unresponive to his vulgar insults and taunts, there's no guarantee that the Doctor certainly won't try again. As according to several unnamed witnesses, it's been seen that a mint haired man would approach the House of the Hearth at least once every two weeks. Could the Knave be truly considering his offer or does she remain stagnant in her decision?

ft. @arlecchino-official @dottore-official

RED HAIRED WINERY OWNER: NOT YOUR DADDY

Taking a look at the red haired Diluc Ragvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery, would one think that he is a man with children? Well, obviously not, seeing as the man lives alone in his manor and a face too young to be considered a father at any point in his life. However, on some odd day, one of Diluc's anons, Hug anon, decided to tell the man he was father to various children- though not biological.

A sort of routine between the man and his anonymous friend, is that every some day, the two exchange pleasantries in regards to how the other has been doing, or what they have been doing. A consistent pattern with Ragvindr, however, is that nothing very interesting really ever happens to him. So once again, after a slight argument with his friend, they began to exchange said pleasantries, Diluc once more admitting nothing really happened with him. Hug anon, growing a tad impatient, insisting that surely something must've happened, and Diluc continued to deny such. 

Growing frustrated, the anon persisted asking that if they were to ask someone else- say, his kids or brother("..who you don't acknowledge"). This is what piqued Diluc's interest. He didn't have any kids, after all, so the man was reasonably confused. The anon continued to elaborate, saying that they weren't biological. 

ka"Are you implying that I am either pregnant, gotten someone pregnant, or adopted someone." ~ Diluc Ragvindr, Owner of the Dawn Winery.

The anon continued to tell Diluc, saying that he has "adopted multiple someones whether he has realized it or not." Finally, the anon finally caved and decided to tell who the alleged "children" were, listing off names such as that of the Spark Knight of the Knights of Favonius, Klee, or the Cat's Tail's Bartender, Diona (who  has expressed fervently that she despises the man). Diluc denied the accusation, and Hug anon later told him that he just can't accept his emotional attachments. Diluc then became slightly upset, opting to ignore the anon, who rushed to go "tattle" on him to his adopted brother, Kaeya Alberich.

This, unfortunately, backfired. As the Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius pointed out that the claim was rather baseless, as Diluc didn't even interact with said children on a frequent enough basis to be considered a father figure to any of them. Diona, catching wind of the allegation had quite a bit to say on the matter.

"Ew! Diluc is not even close enough to being called my dad! I wouldn't even let myself get within a 5 mile radius if I could choose, ew... And I already have a daddy so scratch the idea!! It's a not very good one, no offense, but EW!!!" ~Diona Katzlein, Bartender for the Cat's Tail.

  ft. @diluc-official , @kaeya-official , @diona-official

indirect mention (the literal blog was not actually involved). @razor-official ,  @bennett-official , @fischl-official , @klee-official .

LEGAL ADVISOR HELPS GAY EXORCIST COME OUT TO PARENTS

It's no secret that the pale haired exorcist, Chongyun of Liyue, is a homosexual. The guy has stated it various times, and unlike Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, he openly accepts it. ...However, the exception to his open acceptance of sexuality is his parents. With the help of his friend and famous legal advisor, Yanfei, the two scheme and try to lay out a plan to help him come out to his parents.

Chongyun, in desperation, made a statement clearly crying for help, saying that if his family asked again whether he's gotten a partner or not he may just run away to Fontaine to become a potato farmer. Yanfei, friend and "professional bullier" to Chongyun, asked if the exorcist didn't already have a partner, as she was under the impression he did. (She tends to tease him about having a boyfriend, though never names who.) Chongyun denies this and Yanfei begins throwing accusations at the poor exorcist.

With his head in his hands, the exorcist swiftly ignores the legal advisor's questions and explains that his parents don't know anything about his interest in males and that he's scared to tell them about his "swinging the other way." From there, Yanfei attempted to ask Chongyun about the scope of his situation, trying to formulate how he could tell his parents of his situation. Chongyun wasn't very eager about this, asking Yanfei anxiously if his parents really did need to know. However, Yanfei rebutted that if he didn't do it, his parents would begin asking for grandchildren and where his girlfriend or spouse.

Chongyun responded that his parents were already doing as such and asked why it sounded like she had experience in this sort of scenario. Yanfei admitted that her parents didn't know yet and they would ask if she had a boyfriend yet.

"there is no experience a girl just knows ok well actually my parents send letters asking if I have a boyfriend yet and I just send a blank piece of paper that says nothing except 'idk'LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

"LISTEN I JUST THINK JTS FUNNY TO SEND THEM BLANK PAPERS LIKE THAT" ~Yanfei, Legal Advisor from Liyue.

It turned out, that Yanfei's secret was sending her parents basically blank pieces of paper to avoid the question, to which Chongyun mused, asking if he could try that himself. Yanfei pointed out that it wouldn't work since he lives near his parents. Chongyun admitted that his travels around Teyvat were mostly because he wanted to avoid his parents. So alas, the two friends began discussing how Chongyun could come out of his parents while simultaneously arguing whether he had a boyfriend or not. Chongyun continued to deny as such, saying that he'd never lie to Yanfei. She retorted back that he lied when Xiangling ate one of the pages in her law book.

The two ended up agreeing that Yanfei could help introduce the idea of homosexuality to the exorcist's parents so that all he would need to say is that he was gay. And with that, the Yanfei set off with Chongyun to help get himself uncloseted. How did his parents react? Well, stay subscribed to the Steambird to find out in the future!

ft. @yanfei-official @chongyun-official indirect. @xiangling-official

BOYS WHO LIVE WITH WOLVES AND CAT GIRLS ARE STINKY, DAWN WINERY OWNER SAYS

Diluc Ragnvindr, was asked a question. Who is the stinkiest person in Mondstadt? Diluc, to this, answered immediately, Razor, from Wolvendom. The user denied this answer and asked him to name another person.

"Well he's kinda homeless... So name someone in the city or Springvale." ~user

To this, Diluc began to be more reluctant to answer the question, mumbling that he was actually thinking about Diona, bartender from the Cat's Tail. The user, appalled, asked him why, which he answered was because she smelled like gerbil cages.

ft. diluc-official

indirect: diona-official , razor-official

LIGHT OF KSHAREWAR ANGERS "THE HORDE" FOR DENYING HOMOSEXUALITY

In regards to gossip surrounding Sumeru's Light of Ksharewar, Teyvat continues to speculate the man is a homosexual. The General Mahamatra, being known for his serious nature and horrible jokes, told a joke about the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham, about hating pork. To this, the Light of Ksharewar, Kaveh, replied he hates Alhaitham. The rest of Sumeru seemed to disagree.

On a particularly quiet day in Sumeru City, Cyno, the General Mahamatra decided to share another one of his infamous jokes, "Why does no one in Sumeru eat pork? because they All-hait-ham". Kaveh, Light of Ksharewar, catching wind of this, commented that he hates the Alhaitham. Cyno immediately called Kaveh out, calling him a liar, Kaveh arguing back that Cyno can't just throw around assumptions like that(with horrible spelling). Zandik, a scholar, also agreed with the General Mahamatra. The Light of Ksharewar frantically rushed to explain his stance, arguing against the scholar with even worse spelling.

"And here we see a human adult displaying what is deemed 'queer' behavioral traits. Note how the text rapidly goes into 'keysmash' territory and transitions to an 'all-caps' mode. These are key signs of a homo sapiens in distress or in a state of intense emotional responses attributed to overly positive emotions rather than negative. It is best not to further distress the individual lest they alert The Horde. And woe betide any who dare to alert The Horde." ~Dendro Dragon Sovereign, Apep

Apep, Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, commented on the architect's behavior, much like that of a scientist studying a specimen on a documentary. In regards to Apep's last two sentences, Kaveh found himself confused on who the mysterious "Horde" was. Apep said nothing besides that the lesbians would eat him alive.

ft. @kaveh-official , @general-mahamatra-cyno-official , @zandik-official , @dendro-dragon-apep

SUPER GOOSE TERRORIZES SURROUNDINGS, OVERTHROWS HARBINGER

Did you know the Fatui, an infamous organization in Snezhnaya, has a pet goose? Meet Cecil, the Fatuus goose who was given artifacts by Sumeru's Dragon Sovereign, Apep? Unbeknownst to the goose, she gained immense power and began to terrorize her surroundings.

When Apep spotted the goose trying to pick up a giant claymore with her beak, an amusing thought was brought to the dragon's mind. So alas, naturally they would give the goose ancient artifacts which withhold elemental energy that can boost one's battle performance. With the artifact set being gifted to the goose, Apep sent her off with a boost in physical strength. However, it turns out that the goose was already relatively powerful to begin with! Cecil, as shown through previous interactions is adept with a sword and various other weapons, which she uses to terrorize others. In fact, it was found by the Traveler that the goose posessed a delusion!

In later developments, it was uncovered that the goose had dueled with the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia. It has been led to believe that the delusion the goose has acquired was from none other then that of beating Tartaglia in said duel! Additionally, the goose has gone as far as to challenge the Traveler to a fight and bite ferociously at Diluc Ragnvindr, Dawn Winery owner, and il Dottore segment, Epsilon. (Who is seemingly... acquainted with Ragvindr despite the redhead being known for his dislike towards the Fatui.)

Despite the goose's aggression towards most, the exceptions to Cecil's ferocity are that of a puppet with the sigil of the Electro Archon and a mermaid from Fontaine. As studied, the bird seems to hold a sort of affection for her puppet friend, Kabukimono, and mermaid pal, Niananian.

In the end, while this Fatui member goose may be simply just a, well, goose, she is a force to be reckoned with! Step with caution, dear readers, because you may want to be wary of geese! You may never know which one has Verdant Blessings of Chaos from the Dendro Dragon Sovereign!

ft. @goose-of-the-fatui , dendro-dragon-apep , @snezhnayain-carrot-top , @not-the-darknight , @segment-epsilon , @stelliferousduo , @thewanderingpuppet , @purple-scales-and-tales

[yellowocaballero]

i see you reblogging aa, is this a sign an ace attorney fic is on the horizon 👀

I resign myself to the fact that any reblogging spree of one work inevitably results in people in my inbox asking if I'm currently writing fanfic about it. I can't complain, because the answer is usually yes absolutely of course I am.

I will say that the Great Phoenix Wright Trilogy Playthrough Of 2024 was this summer! It was very much a tether to sanity and I'm very grateful towards @lazuliquetzal for letting me watch her play and for making the experience so much fun. A very intricate bedrock of lore/in-jokes developed. Edgeworth thinks he discovered homosexuality and younger sister figures are mandatory in a court of law. We found it extremely well-written, very funny, and really interesting in character dynamics. I also got her to play Ghost Trick, which was awesome as usual. We're currently both obsessing about different things - and my fanfic to-do list is already VERY long - so no fanfic is actually in the works right now.

Of course I've already written some, who do you take me for. I wrote this just for us, so it's unfinished and rife with our in-jokes, but somewhat shockingly it probably has the densest joke-to-word ratio that I've ever written. Sometimes I want to continue writing something, but I look at it and I'm like, 'This is too good. I can't keep up this level of good. I can't reach this high again'. The short fanfic - sourced from our recurring jokes/efforts to figure out [SPOILERS FOR ACEATT3] how blind Godot is exactly, and what I would have found the most interesting - is, believe it or not, too good to keep writing.

Zany fanfic and spoilers for Ace Attorney 3 under the cut.

           As it turned out, there was a prosecutor’s lounge.

           Like a lot of Phoenix’s least favorite facts, it was both obvious in retrospect and deeply disturbing. The defendant’s lounge had an obvious purpose: confer with your client, beg them to tell you simple facts that would determine if they were sentenced to death via electric chair, let your coworkers blow off steam by making fun of you. Gumshoe is useful at the least useful second. None of these banal and extraordinarily stressful events had anything to do with a prosecutor.

           That was why Edgeworth had always wandered into the defendant’s lounge and made vague yet affectionate threats at Phoenix. If he had his own sterile room to stand around awkwardly, he surely would have done so. This felt so obvious it ought to have gone without saying. There couldn’t, like, actually be a real lounge. That would imply a lot of things about Edgeworth’s choices. 

As a result, when Gumshoe tossed Phoenix the updated coroner’s report and asked him to run it to the prosecutor’s lounge, Phoenix’s first instinct was to contemplate suicide. His only remaining link to sanity was the knowledge that running Gumshoe’s errands to an imaginary room was better than the alternative of staying here.

           Much better. Gumshoe was looking at Maggey, Maggey was refusing to look at Gumshoe, Phoenix wanted to be nowhere near any of this, and he was taking the out. Gumshoe might as well have asked him to go check if his refrigerator was running. Call him a mechanic, because he grabbed both Maya and Pearl and high-tailed it out of there.

           He had to ask for directions three different times before he even found the place. It was a place that could be found. In real life. Phoenix better go catch his fucking refrigerator!

It was also right next door to the defendant’s lounge. Had this really been here the entire time? Could Phoenix have been wandering into Edgeworth’s lobby and making vague yet affectionate threats at him? He could have even stood in front of the door and blocked Edgeworth’s ritualistic escape from his feelings. His was a life of missed opportunities.

           “I bet they have free coffee,” Maya said grimly. “I bet they have tacos.”

           “With free avocados,” Phoenix intoned. “As much as they want. Maybe caviar.”

           Pearl blasted her large and doleful eyes up at Nick. “Why don’t you put avocados on the tacos you make for us? I love them…”

           Poverty, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nick settled for patting her on the head. “Avocados are as immoral as the prosecutors themselves, Pearly. It’s a matter of ethics.”

           “Ethics are so overrated,” Maya said mournfully, kicking the doors open. “Let’s go evil, Nick. For the sake of the children.”

           The cops inside did not appreciate Maya’s dynamic entry, but nobody ever did. Disappointingly, the prosecutor’s lounge was identical to the defendant’s one – down to the cops, cheap sofa, and ugly-ass art. The only difference was – son of a bitch, they did have coffee!

           Entirely possible that Godot refused to step foot inside the courthouse unless they installed a coffee machine. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamn it! Nobody ever cared about Phoenix’s hunger strikes!

           Potentially entirely due to coffee, Godot was sitting on the scratchy sofa with his head tilted back and one earbud in his ear. Its cord snaked onto the cushions of the couch, attacked to some small black media player. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Was he dead? If they were really quiet, would he sleep through the trial and leave Phoenix to win by default –

           “They have a chartreuse board!” Maya screeched. “Those rat bastards!”

           Pearl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Is that sushi? Free sushi!? I love sushi!”

           “Get my purse, Pearl-chan! Grab much as you can!”

           “So it’s hereditary,” Godot growled. Phoenix winced, instinctively checking for coffee cups in his vicinity. The familiar cheap coffee table seemingly only had one, but on closer look Nick could tell that they were carefully stacked into each other. How tidy! “How did you even know this place existed, Trite?”

           One of these days Phoenix was going to start pronouncing his name “guh-dot”. That would show him. He hadn’t mustered the courage yet, but one of these days! “How could I not know it existed?” Poker face, Phoenix. Look condescending. Evoke Edgeworth. Show him what’s what. Literally nobody else you know is scared of him, therefore you are not scared of him, we are manifesting absolute zen in the face of the tallest man Phoenix had ever met in his life. He was sitting down. This shouldn’t be hard. “It’s right next to the defendant’s lounge, how could we miss it?”

           “Is that so?” Godot slowly leaned forward, like a great beast awakening from a mighty slumber. His movements were stiff and disjointed, like a fat bear waking from hibernation. “The spotlight of truth must be like a floodlight to the most enlightened defense lawyers. Illuminating all. Hiding nothing. But shadows cling to the undersides of society, and true darkness lurking underneath the charcuterie board –“

           “I have the updated coroner’s report,” Phoenix said, flapping the envelope loosely. “Gumshoe wanted you to have the other copy.”

           “Yeah, give it here.”

           “If the charcuterie board is evil don’t tell me.” Maya was plowing through a hunk of goat cheese like a rabid coyote. “I don’t wanna know. None of my business. Put the wasabi in my coin purse, Pearl-chan.”

           There was something inherently evil about having a cheeseboard at the workplace, but the legal system couldn’t get much worse. Godot didn’t stand up from the couch – he just thrust out a hand, making shockingly childish little grabby hands, forcing Phoenix to cross the entire room and put it in his hands. Pearl ran up to Phoenix and helpfully smeared wasabi on his hand.

           Godot took the coroner’s report and dropped it on the table. He leaned back, reaffixing his earbud in his ear. “Charmed. Clean us out of the nori, girls, it’s Payne’s favorite and I want him to experience suffering.”

           Pearl helpfully tugged at Phoenix’s sleeve, dying it a light green. If he lost this case because the judge thought he smelled bad… “Can you pour me the last of the coffee, Mr. Nick? I wanna be a big girl and do it for me but the big jug is too heavy.”

           “Are you kidding? You’re way too young for coffee.” The last thing they needed was a nine year old bouncing off the walls. In a courtroom. During a murder case. Phoenix turned to Godot, who was biting his tongue and barely restraining himself from cursing out a nine year old. Was that blood? “You’ll want to take a look at that, Mr. Godot. There’s a new piece of evidence that could change everything.”

           “Save the dramatics for the courtroom.” Godot leaned back again, waving his hand absently. Yeah, that was definitely blood on his yellowed teeth. Phoenix had to admire the restraint. “What’s this new tidbit that’s so important, then?”

           Was he everyone’s errand boy? “The report’s right there, read it yourself.”

           “Seems like I was correct in pegging you as the lazy type, Trite. Look at you refusing to do a simple task.”

           Pearl made an ‘ooo’ing noise behind her hands. Maya broke a cracker in half, giving her the smaller piece. “Don’t say that world, Pearl-chan.”

           “What wo –“

           “You can’t insult me into doing the most basic aspect of your job. You read it.”

           “I’m a busy man. I’m hard at work actually making justice.” But he was sleeping?! “Defense attorneys clearly have nothing better to do than eat our precious cheeses. Show me that you can do the most basic element of the job.”

           Talk about a turnabout! This man had cranked the hostility meter up towards eleven and broke the knob off. Francizka had spent most of a year almost gnawing his face off, but she had never made Phoenix feel so specially hated. “Sorry, Godot, I’m not falling for it. But you’ll definitely want to read the report yourself. It has essential information for the trial in literally five minutes.”

           “If it’s so important than why did we give it to him at all?” Maya garbled, spewing pita chips everywhere. “We could have hid it and won this case!”

           “Because that’s unethical –“

           “You never let anything go! You and your silly ethics –“

           “Silly?!”

           Godot leaned forward and swept his hand over the table with incredibly unnecessary drama. He swept the folder into his hands, yanking the crumpled police report out. He ostentatiously snapped the paper and held it up to his visor, reading it closely. He nodded several times. He even hummed once.

           Finally, Godot straightened and tossed the report on the table. “Boring! So much for crucial evidence. You’re looking at the shadows in the cave and calling them innocent of heinous crimes, Mr. Trite. Turn away from illusions and overcome your cowardice by entering the deepest depths of Plato’s cave, facing your inner demons and reckoning with the truth of –“

           “Boring?” Phoenix cried. “The window for the potential time of the murder is completely different than we thought? And I’m the one living in a fantasy land?”

           Godot stared at him. “Really?” Phoenix made a garbled noise of outrage. Godot ignored him. “What’s the new window, then?”

           “Read it yourself!”

           “Hm.” Godot angled his head to the side, facing away from Phoenix. “Hey, little girl. I bet you can’t read.”

           Going for the throat?! Pearl clearly didn’t know whether or not to puff herself up in indignation or start crying. “I am such a good reader!!!!”

           “Really? Prove it.” Godot picked up the crumpled page and wave it at her. “Or are you a liar?”

           “Being a liar is for bad girls! I am a very good girl!” Pearl reached up on her tip-toes and nabbed the paper out of Godot’s hands. She scanned the page seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Here! Right here! The new time of death is –“

           “Are you making a nine year old read a coroner’s report?!”

           Maya slurped slivers of ginger with pitying eyes. “She channels the dead, Nick.”

           “And that’s the time,” Pearl finished smugly. Phoenix hadn’t even heard her say it. She held out the papers to Godot again, who ignored her. “Now you know the time, because I am such a good reader.”

           “You’re a diamond in the rough, kid,” Godot told her seriously. “Never let these dullards dull your shine.”

           “My name’s not Diamond,” Pearl informed him, equally seriously. “It is Pearl Fey. Don’t feel bad. It’s a very common mistake.”

           “I don’t make mistakes, kid. I’m just one step ahead of reality. Count on it.”

           “You don’t have to be prideful, Mr. Godot.” Pearl smiled brightly and encouragingly at him, as if she was trying to connive a pit bull into a doing a trick. “It’s okay if you aren’t a good reader. Or if you aren’t a good speller. I’m a bad speller but that doesn’t make me a bad reader. Being a bad speller has nothing to do with being a good reader. I am a piece of decisive evidence about that.”

           Maya looked grimly at Phoenix, who was contemplating suicide again. “We’re ruined her vocabulary.”

           “We let her sit in during murder cases, Maya.”

           “And it’s ruined her vocabulary.”

           “What’s ruined your brain?”

           “Do you need me to read more things for you?” Pearl asked sweetly. “I like practicing my reading. I’m always practicing with Mr. Nick’s court records. They’re lots of fun and very educational. I can read ‘five counts of manslaughter’ very well. Do you want to see me spell it?”

           Godot looked at Maya. He looked at the coffee table, where the papers were not. He looked contemplative, maybe. Finally, he said, “How are you at serving coffee?”

           “If the jug is medium sized I can be very good at it!”

           “You’re hired.”

           Alright, that was enough. Phoenix had a lot of responsibilities, but his responsibility to Maya and Pearl came before every single one. That conviction had been put to test during that awful Engarde case. Phoenix almost sacrificed his integrity as a lawyer for Maya’s sake - he was not going to lose it now!

           “Absolutely not,” Phoenix said. It didn’t matter how insanely tall this guy was. Phoenix was taking a stand - right here, right now. Granted, the stand would go to his shoulder, but it was the conviction that counted! “Child labor is against the law, and her legal guardian does not give consent for this.” Phoenix made dangerous eyes at a cowed Maya, just to reaffirm that her legal guardian was not giving consent. “Don’t you have your own co-counsel? Make them do your chores, and stop stealing mine!”

           “I wasn’t planning on paying her,” Godot said affably. “That’s a violation of child labor laws, you know.”

           Maya appeared to be seriously considering his proposal. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but please refer back to the legal guardian wrinkle in this case. “I don’t know, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time Pearl flew out from underneath your shadow? It’s not exactly as if you pay me either.”

           “You’ll get paid when you do something helpful that gets me paid,” Phoenix said instantly. Maya glumly accepted this reality. “There’s no paycheck in moral support, Maya. Godot can use his own co-counsel –“

           “I don’t have a co-counsel,” Godot said. “Do I look like I’ve received an ounce of moral support in the last four years? Of kindness? Hell has no comradeship.”

           Phoenix flapped a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Your plucky imouto, co-counsel, whatever. Just get her to do it.”

           For the first time, Godot actually gave him a baffled look. Maybe. It was insanely hard to tell. “What would I do with a – younger sister, is it?”

           Everybody froze. You could have heard a penny drop. Maya and Pearl’s eyes practically goggled out of their heads.

           Godot just stood there, ignoring Pearl and Maya but clearly unsettled by the silence. “Cream and sugar undercuts the delectable bitterness of the black coffee. A life without siblings is a satisfyingly dark roast.”

           Slowly, Phoenix said, “I’m sorry. You’re a lawyer with no plucky female sidekick?”

           “I’ve had kouhai,” Godot said defensively. “I have a certain talent for mentorship –“

           “Mentorship? What makes you think you’re qualified to give any sort of mentorship? You’re a rookie!” Phoenix said the word ‘rookie’ like how Edgeworth said ‘polyester’, which was deeply satisfying. “And haven’t you lost every case you’ve ever taken?”

           Maya looked close to tears. “No wonder he’s such an awful lawyer…he doesn’t have a single imouto.”

           “Is that the ‘hell’ Mr. Godot talks about?” Pearl asked, voice wavering. “A world with no women?”

           “You’re projecting,” Godot snapped. “Just because you’re surrounded by teenage girls all day doesn’t mean any other lawyer is obligated to do the same.”

           “Any good lawyer. Why do you think Edgeworth has an imouto.” The thought of Edgeworth with no Franciska to hone his…edge…how sad. “And Franciska has Edgeworth as an imouto. This is law one-oh-one, Godot.” Phoenix propped his hands on his hips, grinning. “Hah! No wonder you can’t beat me! You don’t know the first thing about law, do you?”

           “And he can’t read,” Maya said sadly. “Maybe Mr. Godot isn’t exaggerating when he tells us how sad and pathetic he is…”

           “You thought he was exaggerating?”

           The tragic sight of the thoroughly baffled man clearly tugged at Pearl’s heartstrings, but she quickly found her resolve too. She rolled up her sleeves, as if they were at the office and she was ready to attack Phoenix’s toilet with a scrub brush. Once she had almost fallen in. “That does it! If Mr. Godot doesn’t have an imouto, then I’ll - ”

           “Nope. His problem, not ours.” Frankly, Phoenix was just trash talking a little. If you pretended Edgeworth and Franciska didn’t exist – impossible for Phoenix, but he could stretch his imagination – then Godot was a pretty good lawyer. To be a pretty good lawyer without the massive handicap of no young girl…Phoenix better stop giving the competition a hand like this. “Come on, the security guard’s started glaring at us again. It’s definitely time to start the trial.”

           “Your face will freeze like that, you know,” Pearl seriously told the security guard. He didn’t visibly react to her words at all. Maybe Pearl was onto something… “Mr. Nick, I have a duty to my fellow man -”

           “You can practice your reading with picture books, like a normal kid.” Pearl indignantly opened her mouth, doubtlessly about to launch into a meandering and breathless rant about her favorite Newberry Award winning children’s book author. “In English, not Japanese. Reading in English is your problem. At this rate you’re going to know how to read legalese and nothing else.” Phoenix yanked open the door, shepherding both girls out. Maya quickly stuffed more California rolls in her sleeve. “Bad enough Maya’s neglecting – Jesus Christ!”

           “You can’t give me a hard time about that,” Maya said reproachfully. “I’m Shinto.”

           Obviously, goddamn Gumshoe was at the door, one fist raised and clearly about to knock. His fist fell at the exact moment that Phoenix opened the door, and Phoenix only barely avoided a royal smack on the head by via Gumshoe’s meaty fist. He really couldn’t afford another concussion at this rate! CTE was a very serious brain disorder!

           “Mr. Wright! Hey, I thought I’d find you here! Right underneath my fist too! How’s that for some detective work, huh!” Gumshoe laughed uproariously, as if his crush wasn’t about to board her kayak and start doing the death row. And as if he hadn’t told Phoenix to go here. “Well, enough playing around! It’s time to get back to it! There’s no excuse for slacking off when Maggey’s life is on the line, you know!”

           “You’re the one who sent me on an errand!” Phoenix snapped. He shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was Godot adding his two cents. Or, knowing his wordiness, his two dollars. And change. “Did you forget telling me to give Godot the coroner’s report? It was five minutes ago!”

           “What? Why would I do that?” Gumshoe paused a second, creaky and rusty gears churning in his brain. Maya made demonstrative kissy noises. “Oh, yeah! Did you read it out to him?”

           Phoenix was going to have a fucking aneurysm. “Is there some reason why Prosecutor Godot is incapable of doing his own work? I’m already doing half the prosecutor’s job in the courtroom anyway!”

           “Some reason? Uh, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly as if he can read the thing, you know.”

           “Oh my god,” Maya whispered, “he really can’t read.”

           Pearl’s eyes were brimming with tears. “A lawyer who can’t read…he’s so brave!”

           “Brave is one word for it,” Phoenix said flatly. How could he have ever been scared of this guy? No imouto, no literacy…the only thing impressive about him was how he’d even gotten this far. “It’s not my problem if Godot dropped out of fourth grade. He’s giving me enough problems, tell him to solve his own.”

           For some reason, Gumshoe outright glared at Phoenix. Phoenix was getting used to his misplaced ire over Xirneohp, but what did Maggey have to do with this? If anything, he should be thanking Phoenix for refusing to help the competition. “That’s out of line, pal! Haven’t you heard of basic human decency?”

           “In a courtroom? No.”

           “He’s got you there,” Maya said wisely. “When Nick’s putting the ‘Nick’ in ‘panicked’, then he can do some pretty sketchy stuff –“

           “And you call me the narc?!”

           “The courtroom doesn’t matter.” Gumshoe was still scowling at Phoenix. Of course it’s only Phoenix who gets treated like this. Edgeworth insults Gumshoe all day and he’s still his biggest fan. “I told you specifically to read out the autopsy report so Prosecutor Godot could record it into his PDA. Then he always labels it with that funny little label maker of his. You gotta get your ears cleaned out, pal.”

           Phoenix turned to Maya and Pearl, silently pleading for backup. Gumshoe was making Phoenix doubt his own sanity. Normally he just made Phoenix think he was losing it.

           But Maya just looked tragically disappointed in him. “Nick…you didn’t even let Godot label it with his funny little label maker?”

           Desperately, Phoenix rounded on Pearl. He was ready to fake tears. But Pearl just looked ready to whale on him with her little fists. “How could you, Mr. Nick? I didn’t get to see Mr. Godot’s cassette recorder! I’ve always wanted to touch one!”

           “Ah, Prosecutor Godot’s things are always super fun to touch!” At least Gumshoe looked sufficiently cheered up. “His bumpy labels make no sense to me, but I think they’re super cool. Like a secret code or something. But Prosecutor Godot always dumps coffee on my head when I mess around with them…makes me put ‘em back in order, then he says I’m doing it wrong, and…I won’t say I miss the whip, but prosecutors can be so rough sometimes.”

           Wait. Hold on a minute. Several different small pieces clicked into place, and Phoenix’s familiar trusty intuition began to churn its gears. Phoenix raised one finger, and Gumshoe instinctively ducked. “Detective…that label maker wouldn’t happen to be a Braille label maker, would it?”

           Gumshoe brightened, nodding voraciously. Then he apparently remembered he was angry at Phoenix, and started scowling instead. “Yeah, that’s what he called it! And I’ve just caught ya in a contradiction, pal! You said I didn’t tell you about the bumpy label maker. But you obviously knew what it was, didn’t you? You really were lacking human decency on purpose, weren’t you!”

           Cool. Phoenix wished he was dead.

  Both girls looked at Phoenix immediately, correctly deducing the return of his consistent suicidality but uncertain of the cause. Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. “Braille is an alphabet for the blind. You read it by feeling little bumps with your fingers. Apparently Prosecutor Godot is some level of blind. And apparently nobody saw fit to tell us this.”

“Did we gotta?” Gumshoe asked blankly. “Mr. Godot doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Yes, you gotta! Now I look like some kind of - you know!”

Sure enough, Maya was giving him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. Her face when full-ass adult Maximillian admitted that he had asked a sixteen year old to marry him was nothing in comparison. “You were bullying the blind, Nick? I can’t believe you!”

What was it, bully Phoenix for something that was not his fault week? “It’s his fault for not saying anything -”

“Victim blaming?!”

“I thought he was just being an as - jerk again! It’s not exactly out of character!”

“Ableism,” Maya denounced. Phoenix drooped. “I can’t believe it. I expected better from you, Nick.”

“I’m literally ADHD, don’t give me this -”

“Who isn’t autistic?” Maya said frankly. “That doesn’t count.”

“Plenty of people in this world are neurotypical, Maya.” 

He’d had to explain this multiple times. Sometimes she even made him doubt himself. It wasn’t as if he knew neurotypical people. The people in Phoenix’s life either knew they were neurodivergent or thought that normal people were the freak. Most fell into the later category. Unfortunately. Lana wasn’t winning sister of the year, but Ema’s diagnosis and Ritalin prescription was probably his sole link to sanity during that case. Phoenix had a conspiracy theory that Gumshoe plus Ritalin would produce a shockingly competent person. Like everybody else on the prosecutor’s side, he had no idea.

There was no way Edgeworth knew he was autistic, but Phoenix was softening him up for the revelation. He had to take it slow. Couldn’t afford for him to run off to the Philippines to find himself and then come home acting as if he invented autism. Again. Like he did with homosexuality. Shut up about the German discotheques, Edgeworth!

“Mr. Godot is blind?” Pearl gasped. Horrifically, Phoenix was relieved that she knew what blind people were. “Is that why he couldn’t read? And you made fun of him! That’s bullying, Mr. Nick!”

This was a thousand times worse coming from Pearl. “I wouldn’t say I made fun of him,” Phoenix said evasively. “If anything, I really think he’s been bullying me.” This did not impress Maya and Pearl, who somehow only looked more disappointed in him. Phoenix began to sweat. “I got nothing against the disabled, guys. They’re - like, they’re fine! Some of my best friends are -”

“Autism doesn’t count,” Maya said frostily. “You’ll never get your Disability Awareness and Inclusion Girl Scout badge at this rate, Nick.”

“I - am I a nine year old girl now? Seriously?”

Pearl straightened, eyes widening. “I’m a nine year old girl!” Phoenix gestured towards her, emphasizing the handful of differences between them. Gumshoe nodded vigorously. “Can I get a disability aware badge? I’m aware of disabled people!” Left unsaid: unlike Phoenix, apparently. Yet another difference between him and nine year old girls.

“You aren’t a Girl Scout,” Phoenix said, exhausted. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can sign you up -”

“Girl Scouts! That’s a great idea. I was a Girl Scout way back when. It was awfully rewarding.” Gumshoe gave Pearl a big thumbs up, as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most insane bomb of all time and promptly moved on. “You’re probably overqualified for the Legal Expert and Fortune Teller badges. You could really make it!”

That was it. They had lost her. Pearl rolled her sleeves up, puffing out her chest with pride, and before Phoenix could react she had already turned around and pushed the lobby doors open. They swung open with a theatrical flair, revealing -

Godot, just on the other side of the doors. Judging by his somewhat harried look and unbalanced stance, he had also just barely managed to avoid door-to-face impact. Or, more likely, door-to-visor impact. 

Pearl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She jabbed a finger at Godot, who still seemed dazed from the unintentional assault. “I’m taking your case, Mr. Godot! I’ll be your co-counsel! I’ll find you innocent of all charges - um, not that!”

“I lost all innocence a long time ago,” Godot said darkly. He pushed past them, flagrantly brushing off everybody. “If you wish to scout for something, scout for that. It ought to distract you from standing around and wasting time with meaningless gossip.”

Phoenix winced. He didn’t seem very happy. But he never really did - cheerful and amused, frequently, but almost never actually happy. “Uh, hey, man. I’m really sorry about - in my defense, you were actively hiding it -”

“Classic defense attorney,” Maya announced. “Always defending himself!”

“Mr. Edgeworth says that the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Pearl said helpfully, blissfully unaware of that one time Phoenix had to defend himself against a murder charge. Edgeworth had known. Obviously. 

“Save your pity, Trite. Save it for the courtroom. So you can pity yourself.” Godot held up one hand, not even bothering to aim it in Phoenix’s direction. “Out of all of your victims, of course you would pity yourself the most.”

“Dude,” Phoenix said, “did I, like, ghost you the morning after or something? I’m sorry about it, but becoming a lawyer because I didn’t text you back is a little weird.”

“A little weird?” Gumshoe said, baffled. “That’s a crazy accusation, Wright. Who would become a whole lawyer because of a guy?” Phoenix looked at the ceiling. Godot coughed. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, pal.”

“For whom does the bell toll, Detective?” Godot said. Maya looked actively distressed as she attempted and failed to decipher what the fuck he meant by that. “I’ll see you all in court. Prepare yourselves. I don’t intend on losing to the likes of you.”

He turned on his heel, striding down the hallway and escaping them all as quickly as possible. Pearl gasped, and she immediately let go of Maya’s hand so she could set off barrelling down the hallway. “Hold on! Wait for me, Mr. Godot!”

Godot didn’t look back. But he did slow until Pearl caught up, and when she shoved her little hand in his large one he didn’t pull away. 

Gumshoe scratched his chin. Maya squinted at the departing duo, obviously wondering how Godot knew where to take a left turn at the hallway. Phoenix made a mental note of it too. For a blind guy, he was really familiar with the courthouse…which meant that Phoenix’s mistake was perfectly reasonable! Anybody would make it! “Just double checkin’. You two are actually cool with sending off a little girl with the sketchiest grown man ever? Completely unsupervised and stuff?”

What, seriously? Phoenix and Maya glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you can’t trust your coworkers,” Maya intoned seriously, “you can’t trust anybody. Nobody’s more trustworthy than a real lawyer.”

“And Edgeworth recommended him,” Phoenix pointed out. “Good enough for me. The state of California would never have certified him as a defense attorney if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it,” Gumshoe said cheerfully, displaying a chain of logic that had proven extremely convenient for Phoenix over the years. Maya had once tricked Gumshoe into letting them into a crime scene by pretending that there was a legal holiday once a year where every law and police procedure was inverted. “Don’t we got a trial to hit, anyway?”

“Shit!”

Pearl’s inaugural performance as the prosecution’s co-counsel/imouto went off without a hitch. Phoenix couldn’t be prouder of her efforts. She played her part perfectly: from the well-timed timed motivational encouragements to tension-relieving funny quips, she was a natural. Her only experience co-counseling with Phoenix had been very stressful for her, so Phoenix was happy to see her shine with confidence. Pearl Fey was truly suited for villainy.

She even went above and beyond into the role of personal assistant imouto. She carefully managed the presented evidence, holding up the right photograph or blood-stained object for the purview of the court. Pearl read out any written reports, described the evidence that Phoenix presented, and reported on any notable body language. Phoenix wasn’t sure if Godot knowing that ‘the Defense looks like you ate the last onigiri he was saving for lunch…’ was remotely helpful, but it was cute. Godot better realize how lucky he was to have such a top-quality imouto at his side today. It confused the judge, but what didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” the judge said, as Pearl carefully withdrew a generic white coffee mug from a large box underneath the table. Seemingly…filled with more mugs.  “Doesn’t that little girl belong to the Defense?”

“The Defense is loaning her out today,” Phoenix said seriously. Pearl began wrangling a coffee pot the size of her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a conflict of interest.”

“I see!” Pearl carefully tipped the large pot into the white mug. It spilled everywhere, but coffee was poured. “And what is a ‘conflict of interest’?”

“Obscure old legal term. Don’t worry about it.” Pearl reached over the table and attempted to slide the mug towards Godot, as the unlucky draftee from the audience always did. He just pointed at a random pot in the crowd and told somebody that they were in charge of his coffee today. Terribly unorganized way to do things. 

“Watch it, you senile old man. The Defense is distracting you with outdated legal concepts. Focus on the most important aspect of this case!” Why was only the prosecution allowed to insult the judge! Why were they the only ones allowed to get away with that! Seriously unfair! As if Phoenix didn’t want to strangle the judge with his own two hands too?!

The mug scooted forward a little, but barely moved. Pearl scowled and tried again, sliding the mug forward a few inches and sloshing coffee over the side again. Pearl huffed in frustration before carefully cupping her hand around the mug and pushing it forward as she walked down the table. 

Godot cupped his hand on the table and let Pearl push the cup into his hand. Then he slammed the table, throwing his head back and chugging the entire mug of steaming hot coffee in one go. He slammed the mug back on the table. Pearl carefully retrieved it. 

“The fact that the old man and this fake Frenchman saw the accused put poison in the cup!” Godot announced. “That’s one fact that can’t be denied! Not by a reliable witness!”

Pearl clapped. Godot patted her on the head. Phoenix groaned.

Phoenix got his way - as usual - by the skin of his teeth - as usual. He was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty at this rate. Phoenix and Maya waited in the courtroom lobby for almost fifteen minutes before Pearl finally came running up to them. She was beaming, cheeks flushed red with pride. 

“Great job out there today, Pearl!” Maya cheered, clapping her hands. Yeah - a little too good. Godot’s performance in court was way smoother than last time. Maybe he was just getting his sea legs, but Phoenix never underestimated the power of young girls pursuing merit badges. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Nuh-uh! Mr. Godot said he’s gonna take me out for ice cream!” Pearl thrust her hand out, shining the biggest, wettest gaze directly into his eyes. “Can I have money for ice cream, Nick? Please?”

“Typically speaking, when you take people out for food, you’re the one paying,” Phoenix said flatly. “Mr. Godot’s on a prosecutor’s salary and I’m representing a waitress. He can pay.” 

“Mr. Godot doesn’t get paid,” Pearl said frankly. “He said he does it for the love of the game.”

This was somehow the most surprising thing he’d heard all day and completely predictable. 

Maya frowned, tilting her head. It was a gesture he’d seen in Mia a thousand times. Even after all this time, Maya still hurt him in those little ways. “Prosecutors get paid by the government. How do you legally work for the government and not get paid?”

“Maybe he’s a volunteer?” Phoenix suggested. “People volunteer at places, right? Like…in zoos?”

“That makes sense!” Maya said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Zoos, a court of law…what’s the difference, right?”

“After we’re done with it, not much.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t meet the parrot,” Pearl said, crushed by the immovable weight of the world’s injustices. “I wanted to make friends. We have so much in common.”

Maya sympathetically patted Pearl’s back. “You do! You’re both so good at imitating voices! Maybe one day Phoenix can cross-examine you too, huh?”

Nope. No. No way! “Not happening. I’ve accused every imouto I’ve ever had of murder on the stand. Pearl’s merciless enough, we can’t take that chance. She wouldn’t make it a day in prison.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Maya said, unimpressed. “Godot would never accuse an imouto of murder. He’s a bro like that.”

“He’s a prosecutor, it’s not his job -”

“Apparently being a prosecutor isn’t his job either.”

“You’d make an unemployed man pay for my ice cream?” Pearl demanded. “For shame, Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

Phoenix sighed and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t know why he wasted time pretending this wasn’t going to happen. Pity he wasn’t in the habit of accepting the inevitable. His life would be a lot easier.

[kedreeva]

as someone who is ace and entering college years, how has your dating life been as an ace? what other struggles have there been that you have advice for? i dont know any aces or similar around me older or otherwise. thank you for your time and i hope you have an easy day!

Okay this will get a little long so I'll put it behind a cut

Honestly I'm probably not the best person to ask, since I never really...struggled? Not specifically with asexuality or with anything related to it. I can tell you my experiences, though, and you can decide if there's anything worthwhile to take away from it!

I grew up in a house run by science and math. I knew the prefix a- meant without/not and I knew there was heterosexual and bisexual and homosexual, so when young and, importantly, before really ever interacting with other queer folk, I went Ah ha, these are (prefix)(sexual) and so therefore I am asexual (without sexuality), and that was that. That was literally all the thought I gave to it. People had crushes on other people, I didn't have crushes on people, end of story. If, for some reason, I developed a crush on someone, I would deal with it then.

Maybeeeee midway through HS, a very good friend of mine asked me about it, and I said well, some people like everyone the same, and I dislike everyone the same. And she said well, then it sounds like you like everyone the same, that amount is just zero, so that seems like bisexual? (she didn't know the term asexual was an actual sexuality term either at that point, just the biological term for reproduction and, well, I could reproduce theoretically so couldn't be that) And I said well, alright then, and called myself bisexual for the next 6 or 7 years. THEN I found out asexuality is a sexuality not just a mode of reproduction and I said Ah Ha, I was Correct, and that was that again.

So I guess if I was offering advice it would be... you know you. Don't let someone else tell you about you if you think they're wrong. Make up a word if there isn't one. Use a new word if you find one that already exists and fits.

Also, that it's fine to not worry about it. Literally it's fine to just never think about it if you have better things to do. I think a lot of people get really wrapped up in finding the right label and/or "what happens if-" when like... you're not a canned good. You don't need a label. Worry about what-ifs when they come up, don't borrow anxiety if you can help it.

I dated a few people in HS, like... three people I think, and one Almost. One predatory mistake I thankfully recognized (HEY because I had older folks online I could talk to about it!) and got out of quickly, and one hot mess relationship that was a LOT of fun- my boyfriend, Sark, and then his ex-girlfriend, and then I stepped out so they could get back together, and then they said wait no, and invited me back in, and that went on for most of the end of HS, and nearly into college, when I stepped out again (and peacefully, I am still friends with both of them and I married Sark in the end). There was one guy whom I was always, perpetually, extremely fond of, and we hung out a lot, kissed once, and I think we would have had a lot of fun dating, but ultimately it was a near miss that became a fond memory, because we were never in the right place together. Sometimes life does that, and that's okay, too.

In college, I simply didn't date anyone. I had better things to do. I met my best friend, @idkfandomwhatever, online that year (and still talk to her almost daily, sometimes for hours, despite that we are on opposite sides of the world!!), and in person @mishapeep who was the best roomie I ever had (hi!!!!! i love you!!!). I had great friends, I went on a TON of adventures, worked a cool job where I had awesome coworkers, and just all around had a blast learning stuff and napping in sunbeams or on couches at the food court. A couple of guys made passes, and I turned them down because I just wasn't into it, and we remained friends. There was one coworker at my dispatch job that I got along with like a house on fire, and everyone ELSE thought we should be dating, but neither of us ever brought it up- I can't say why he didn't for sure, but I know I never brought it up because I was 85% sure he didn't swing for the right team to date me, which I ALSO never brought up until he found me on facebook years later to tell me about his husband running for local election somewhere. so. again, don't let anyone else tell you what to do lol there was ALSO another guy that I had NO interest in that spent a lot of time around me, but we mostly sat in my bunk watching Queer as Folk, which I KNOW was his first exposure to queer material. I never talked about queer stuff with him otherwise, but I heard from a mutual friend of ours that he's also happily married to his husband. Sometimes just being yourself, openly and without shame about it, does more than you think, even if it's not doing anything directly for you (but it is, it's good for you too).

SINCE college ended, I dated one guy I met through an online game and that was great in person briefly, but ultimately didn't work out because he couldn't be a nice person, another guy I met through the same online game and that didn't work out at ALL in person, and then I started hanging out with Sark and co again. I was on the phone with him driving somewhere, and I said something to the effect of someday you're gonna find a gf and she's not gonna want you to keep going on adventures with your ex, and we won't be able to talk anymore and I had a real recordscratch moment where I realized absolutely NOT on MY watch, I wanted that boy in my life forever actually, and we've been married now for... this is year 8.

I may have landed in a soft place, but I didn't seek it out. I just lived my life and didn't worry about my sexuality or about who I was or wasn't gonna date. When I DID date, I was up front about what I wanted from any of those relationships and part of the problem with the relationships that didn't work out was sometimes that I did not KNOW what I wanted, yet. But, it was IMPORTANT I think, that I gave the chances I did, because I did learn about myself and what I wanted. That's probably the hardest fucking thing to learn, that relationships sometimes happen not because they're likely to be permanent, but because it may be fun or be a way to learn what you do or don't want. Maybe alongside of that, the lesson that it's okay to go "hm, actually this is Not For Me" and exit peacefully whenever possible. But it's okay to give temporary things a shot and see how it goes, even knowing up front it may be temporary (honestly maybe that even takes some of the stress of it off? if you don't have to worry about it being forever, and you don't have to worry about "what if I never experience other things," and you don't worry so much about messing it up so it feels easier to take chances saying and doing stuff you might otherwise consider too risky to ask for etc).

I'm aware I'm lucky that things went pretty smoothly for my entire life so far, insofar as dating or sexuality is concerned. Part of that was definitely because even the worst of the people I dated weren't really all that bad of people. A lot of it was that I just didn't date if I didn't want to. I didn't care about sex, so I didn't have sex for the first time until a few years after college, and only one guy ever pushed the issue at all (the guy in HS I immediately dropped all contact with).

The thing is... I dated or nearly dated like ten people, flirted with countless others (because it's FUN), and the only one I still have regular contact with (not just occasional friendly hellos) is the one I kept at the end.

But the friends I made in college? I kept a lot of those. I still talk to several of my college friends on a regular basis. I have made other friends since, some of whom I talk to every day, some of whom have become irregular contacts I am still fond of. But those bonds are important and the ones you make with your friends from here out do have the potential to span at least huge chunks of your life, if not the entirety of it. If you only take away one thing from this little novel...take that knowledge.

also this has nothing to do with asexuality but for pete's sake find SOME kind of hobby club to be a part of, or make one if there isn't one, follow your stupidest instincts for adventure on occasion (like playing freeze tag frisbee in a lightning storm on the PAC lawn at 11pm until the campus cops show up to make you go home), and take at least one "fuck it this sounds fun" class. Mine was archery at 7am, the only early-morning class I ever took. Worth it, we were all TERRIBLE but god it was awesome.

Good luck out there!

[gay-jewish-bucky]

I think part of what brings Steve and Bucky together, from the very start of their friendship, is that both of them grew up with strong mothers who raised them to have an even stronger sense of justice.

Jewish-American women in particular have a long and rich history at the forefront of many movements for social advancement for marginalized people; a notable example being Brenda Howard, a bisexual Jewish woman dubbed "the mother of pride".

I can clearly see Winnifred Barnes being an active member of the National Federation of Temple Sisterhoods (now known as Women of Reform Judaism), a Jewish group with a long history of social and political activism both inside and outside of the Jewish community.

In 1965 the group adopted a resolution which called for the decriminalization of homosexuality and condemned homophobia from within the Jewish community. Winnie would have been the resolution's biggest supporter. Keeping the memory of her son alive, and ensuring it be a blessing for countless others, by fighting to build the world that she wished he had gotten to experience, that unbeknownst to her, he would get to live in with the very man she knew he'd been in love with for so long.

How deeply indescribably affirming and emotional it would be for Bucky, many years down the line, to get to experience a world where he could be himself, and to learn that, not only would his family have accepted him, but his mother actively fought so others like him could have this freedom to love and the Jewish community would embrace them with open arms.

[zelcii]

sixteen | gally x reader

tmr.

fluffy angst for the soul. im bawling my eyes out and cannot be aesthetic rn because im stuck on page 255 of the death cure and i cannot for the life of me read on. oh my days, james dashner. why?

sum; your from group b and you meet gally at the bonfire in the safe haven, but he already knows you. god forbid newt is there though omfg.

cw; swearing, fluff, romance, lgbt themes, unresolved trauma from bein munies, character death.

a/n; all lowercase and not proofread because i cannot anymore holy motherfucking shit. also i would die for will poulter in the newtmas gut wrenching cus like yesssss!! please, will, PLEASEEEE

i want to love a boy, the way i loved the ocean...

homosexual angst, heterosexual comfort.

in your opinion, the safe haven was simply too good to be true. it was a sight to see children your age and younger strolling around without a care in the world. it was surreal. they played games, chased each other around the tall grass, and carried themselves with a certain carefree joy that you absoluetly envied.

you felt so out walking around sulking with your hair down and your clothes wrinkled and bedridden. you looked like a mess and you knew it because you refused to leave your tent for two days, fearing that once you stepped outside that maybe this was all just another test. a trick of the mind.

a trick of the mind that you'd grown used to in the wicked labs. the worst of it came from the sensations you'd feel on your legs and arms after sitting around for too long. pins and needles. if you held on long enough, your skin would eventually mimic the experience of the dozens of pins and pricks your limbs had to undergo. you could vividly see the tubes coming out of you, draining the very essence of your life away and replacing it with biochemical that didn't look, feel, or act natural. you remember being halfway full of the "fake blood." you could remember the feeling of barely being human.

at night, if you closed your eyes hard enough, you could still feel the bright, warm rays of the springs' artificially designed and wicked-engineered daylight on your skin. it would feel so real in your mind that you'd nearly have a panic attack, believeing that you had never escaped in the first place.

you'd spent your whole life (or at least the parts you remembered) in that cruel "life" simulation they called the maze trials. so long that you'd been conditioned to think that that was what home felt like. but no munie has ever felt truely at home before, so what gave vince the right to think that this place could be any different?

for the first time ever, you came out of your tent, looking around you as community unfurled before you. and although you wanted to tell yourself that you were safe, and that you were real, you couldn't help but call bullshit.

not long ago, your group had outsmarted your maze trials and joined the right arm. that was the first time you had truely seen hope after being sent up the lift and thrown into the sadistic evil wicked called "an expirement for good."

unfourtunately, it wasn't much longer then that you would realise that the hope that you had been given was futile and false.

because as soon as you did something nice for the others, you were thrown back into wicked's custody. the good die young and poor afterall. you were transported around the country, often with the tired asian boy you never learned the name of, but he was part of the group the right arm "saved." though you suppose nobody is ever safe anymore.

the scientists there subjected you to what felt like hundreds of graphic simulations. they forced you to watch your loved ones die over and over again—people whose faces you couldn't recognize but somehow knew you should've. You saw them getting ripped apart by shades, their guts spilling on the floor. Falling perilously off the cliff and crumbling in front of you in a gruesome splat of red. you watched your friends get buried alive under the damp soils of the springs, you digging the holes with no controls to stop yourself from hurting harriet, sonya, ximena, rachel, aris, miyoko, beth—the names went on. through it all, your mind was always awake, fully aware of every horrifying detail. the images burning itself into your dreams, gifting you with restless nights.

though you suppose you should be grateful in the slightest. because you wholeheartedly believed that you would still be in that pain if it weren't for the rouge wicked soldier that carried you out of the facility and onto a bus full of the children you'd seen before im the hallways. regardless, suspicion bubbled within you. you found yourself asking when you would start killing everyone.

aris walked up to you, calling out your name as his way of announcing himself, careful not to startle you. him, harriet and sonya were your most frequent visitors, talking to you from the otherside of the thin tent walls. you begged them to stay outside, anticipating your "turn for the worst."

you walked together as he told you about the bonfire vince would be holding that afternoon. "just like the good old days" he said, though you disagreed. the last "good day" you had was before the springs, lost somewhere in the mist of all the things you couldn't remember.

"maybe meet someof the other people?" aris suggested, his question laced with the sterness of an order. "it'll do you some good." he said. doubt it.

as aris walked away, your gaze was drawn to a pair of blue eyes watching you from a distance. they belonged to a tall blond boy who observed with a curious, almost wistfulness swimming in his eyes before it melted into a sombre look. the shade of blue in his eyes bubbled up a sense of familiarity deep within you, and you didn't even realise you were holding your breath until you forced yourself to look away.

that night, after vince's inspirational speech to keep the colony in high hopes, you lingered at the back of the crowd. small cliques spread about with wide grins and loud laughter as they ate and danced around the fire. you felt a streak of envy as you watched the children easily forget as if they hadn't been poked and prodded just days prior. yet, you were also grateful that the younger ones didn't have to face the worst of it. it was a bittersweet sight—knowing they could find joy despite everything, even if for just a moment.

behind the bonfire and displayed before the beach was the large slate of rock vince had mentioned in his speech. a few kids were already at work, carving dozens of names into the stone—tributes to the people they'd lost. one of them stood out, towering over the others with a quiet intensity. he skillfully carved the name "maya" at the top of the sculpture, his hands steady and deliberate. he went over the name a couple names, digging the name deep into the rock so it popped out the most comared to the others until he finished and did the same for the name "chuck" under his first. the sounds of the chisel against stone mixed with the crackling of the fire and the gentle lapping of waves from afar overlapped. the atmosphere thickened as each name was etched into the monument.

you came up behind the boy, tapping him gentely on the shoulder and he seemed to lean into your touch. oddly enough, he didn't have to turn around to know that he'd find you with your arm outstretched, asking for the sculpting tools.

in surprise, you stood there looking at the tools he carefully handed over to you, those blue eyes never leaving the name he carved in first. it startled you how in sync you seemed to be with this total stranger, you couldn't help but stare at the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, how his eyes glazed over the longer he stared at the names, and how his shoulders were tensed every time you had seen him. as if he was carrying the weight of the world.

in contrast to the boy, you got on your knees before the large stone slate, taking your time with the curves of each letter. she felt unworthy of writing the name into the rock, having killed her over and over and over again in so many different simulations. but when you brought it up with harriet, she simply gave your shoulder a squeeze in attempt to reassure you before pulling you into a hug, whispering soft "i know,"s into your hair, your eyes watering.

you made sure to do it justice, chipping away at the stone with intention in each stroke, a furrow of your eyebrows over your tired eyes as you made no mistake with each hit of your mallet. you had noticed that although he was finished on his names, the boy still hovered behind her, watching the way she shifted her entire focus into permanently engraving the name into the sculpture. she paid no mind to anything other than the work in front of her and the sound sof the sea. "beth" you had written, standing up and backing away to admire your works.

it was then that you realised that the boy was never looking at the names. he was looking at you, putting a respectful hand on the small of your back as you walked backwards, before pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. usually, you would lash out, yell at whoever thought to have the audacity to even think to touch you. but something about the way his caloused hand sat warm against your skin felt so natural. like you were meant to feel his skin against yours. so you didn't yell because maybe you were in the wrong.

your eyes flickered between the names and the blond beside you, studying the way soft freckles spread across his face from the cold and how he kept his head held high, his jaw clenched. you knew he could feel you staring, but you couldn't help but wonder why he felt so familiar, and you had a feeling he didn't care much.

it didn't startle you when his eyes locked on to yours. you bit your lip, taking notice of the way your heart rate picked up as you watched the darkest bits of his eyes dilate as he set his eyes on you and you failed to hold back the giddy smile that crawled onto your lips. he felt pathetic, searching for the familiar flakes of gold that swam within your irises. he searched your eyes for your soul only to feel himself melt, falling for you. again. all while you studied him for what would be the first time for you. his heart ached.

"do i know you?" you asked under bated breath. the way his eyes smiled and his gaze softened when he looked at you nearly convinced you to fall for him. how innocently he looked at you, void of any judgment.

he shook his head no, smiling at you with his lips pursed. his eyes were laced with a sort of pain that bubbled up in the middle of his chest. no, you didn't know him. but he knew you. he'd state it, his voice was low and gruff, as if he had just woken up.

"and your so sure?" the blond hummed. "why is that?" you laughed, and he simply looked at you. he looked at you like you'd disappear if he looked away. he offered you his hand and you glanced down at it hesitantly. your eyes traced over his calluses, worn hands, each scar and scrape a story to share. and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to hear them. and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that everything was real, because you wanted him to be real.

you took his hand and let him lead you down to the beach, neither of you walking farther behind the other. just together.

the two of you sat there in the sand. he sat with his arm resting against a leg, his other outstretched and his other hand proped under him to cary his weight. it was a vain attempt to relax despite the tension in his muscles. you sat your knees up to your chest, hugging them close and resting your chin on your knees. a vain attempt to feel safe around him. because no matter how much you doubted the world around you, the legitimacy of the people you met, and the control you had over your own actions, you still wanted a place to go back to that you could call home, or rather a person. he told you his name was gally. then your heart pleaded with the universe to let home be the boy you'd only met today.

"maya..." he muttered, picking up a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers. "she loved the ocean. because each time the water left the shore, she knew it would come back." he finished, looking at you once again. he searched for any tell-tale sign that his words felt familiar to you. they didnt. "she told me that."

he could recall the way you used to talk with your hands, a bounce in your step, and your eyes wide with wonder and love as you spoke to him. you wasted your love on him, but he had overlooked it. he had overlooked you, missing the way your smile would falter when he changed the subject or how you would stumble over your words, desperately wishing he would just listen to you.

"she's a smart girl," you hummed, your eyes trained on the crash of the waves and the flutter of seagulls as the passed by. "can i ask... what happened?"

gally let out a shaky breath, inhaling the salty scent of the sea. "she was in trouble," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to hear his own words. he spoke slowly, each word heavy and dry in his mouth. "she was in trouble, and i ignored her."

he remembered how you ran to him in the middle of the hallway, begging him to help you run away. you told him how you overheard the scientists discussing sending you to the maze trials, how you panicked at the thought of losing your memories and everything you'd worked for being wiped away. your voice trembled with fear and desperation, but he ignored you.

you gently nodded, letting him know you were listening, though you kept your eyes closed, allowing the sounds and smells of the beach to envelop you. you'd never seen water run the way the waves swayed against the wind, their movements both soothing and relentless. the way the water crashed against the rocks and sand with such urgency, only to retreat and disappear, fleeting from the very reason it fought so hard to get to.

"i grew selfish and i lost nearly everything i loved because of it," he sighed, reverent. he hated how you looked at him like you'd never seen him before, but you haven't. that was his fault. he wanted to you to see what he saw, to show you his memories, to make you feel what he felt. "we were sixteen."

he looked at you, his eyes desprate as the blue drew you in. they taunted you, and it hurt how you noticed every similarity between his his eyes and beth's. the green bits that crowded his irises, and the blue that reminded you of the waves on the shore before you. but he silently begged for you to stop thinking about her.

"i should know you shouldn't i?" the thought burned your heart.

gally nodded, his head hung low as he pursed his lips. he had hoped when he saw you in the last city, that seeing him could trigger your memories and bring you back to him. but as he saw you above the hill across the safe haven, staring at him with nothing but curiosity, he knew he had truely lost you. it got worse when he watched you write beth's into the stone so delicately.

"beth," you started, her name bitter on your tongue. "we were together in the springs." you explained to him everything you knew about the maze. you told him about your life back when you were just a sprout, a new arrival. you had come up from the lift just a month before beth, but when you saw her, you already knew her. he listened intently, watch how you smiled when you told him about her and the blue of her eyes.

"she was stung because of me," you admitted, recalling the day you snuck her into the maze. "when she went through the shift... i couldn't bare to stand the yelling. the screaming. i couldn't face the fact that she was like that because of me." you fidgeted with your shoelaces, twisting the fabric between your fingers as you spoke. "i didn't talk to her after that. and the last time i saw her—when i was finally ready to be there—she was bleeding out on the floor."

"that's the thing about people, isn't it?" she muttered. "they leave at the worse times, then come back when you stop needing them."

you let a tear slip as the weight of your words exhoed between the both of you, ringing true for different reason. gally could remember the exact moments your pleas had sunk in, but by then, the last time he'd seen you was on the screens of the security room, running the maze and killing a griever. he could still remember the desperation in your tone, the thought finally sinking in that you reached out to him—only him—because you wanted him to care.

his eyes glazed over, recalling the way he treated people before and after the maze. he could remember all the yelling he did, all the pain he could've caused. the most vividly though, chuck laying on the floor of the wicked facility, his blood pooling under him. he remembered falling to his knees, the pain is his shoulder numb compared to the hatred his heart held for him. "i was a terrible person..." he confessed, his voice breaking.

your brows furrowed as you frowned. gally kept his head low, glaring daggers at his feet with an intensity. the anger in his soul was the only thing more powerful than the vicious regret that gnawed at him from the inside.

"maybe you weren't," you shrugged, and for a moment you paused. you gently took his hand in yours, your skin smooth against his as you took your time to intertwine your fingers together in a way that felt right to you, yet familiar to gally. he let you lay your head against his shoulder, the only weight that felt comfortable on his shoulders, and you let him wrap his arm around you waste, the only touch you truely believed to be genuine. "maybe you were just sixteen."

guys do u get it. cus her name wss maya. yes like maya hawke. and she loved him but he didnt. and he lost sky when her memories got wiped. so he wrote her name on the stone thing. and he loves her now but she doesnt. she loves beth. but beth is dead. but they have the same eyes. cus theyre equivalents. so. they bother get second chances. hypothetically. they can finally be there for each other. but. she only loves him now. because he reminds her of beth. so all we can do now i pray that maya can love the boy the way she loved the ocean. though the ocean could also be all three of them. maya on shore then gally off shore. gally on shore then maya off. then maya and beth on shore then maya off. then maya on and beth off. now both gally and maya on shore. the shore representing love.

omg guys im losing it.

[prodigal-explorer]

i dont exactly consider myself a pro-shipper but i am VERY anti-censorship. i hate all censorship. absolutely nothing in media should be censored whatsoever, the only exception being media that is marketed towards children because it should be up to parents/guardians/trusted adults to decide what media children are ready to consume.

but when it comes to adults? hell no.

“but but but it’s a problematic ship!!! 🥺”

there are problematic romances in real life. there are abusive relationships and sexual assaults in real life. we cope with these things by reading and writing about them and realizing that we are not alone, we are not crazy, we are going through something real. media is meant to connect people, and with the influx of social media, people don’t connect with each other anymore and censoring stories about sensitive topics purely because they’re problematic is severing that connection even more.

“but but but it’s pedophilia! 🥺”

i am a victim of pedophilia. i know many people who are also victims. again, if we don’t tell these stories, then there will be kids who have nothing to connect to who think that what they’re going through is normal or that it’s something only they will understand. it doesn’t normalize anything. if you read about pedophilia and your first thought is “okay great, now i can be a pedo because i read about pedophilia!” then it’s not the story or the author’s fault. it’s the pedo’s fault because they’ve always been a pedo. they were just looking for something to twist into justifying their actions.

and also the example i just described is something that absolutely NEVER happens. it’s something that antis made up so they could spread their censorship bullshit.

we should read stuff we disagree with. we should read stuff that is disgusting and messy and horrible if we want to. because those are all stories about the human experience. and if we censor one thing, what’s to stop people from censoring everything?

do you antis know about the wales padlock act? in america in the 1920’s until i believe the 50’s or 60’s, there was a LAW that stated that people could be ARRESTED if the media they created had any form of “obscenity” in it including nudity, pedophilia, and oh, you know what else? homosexuality. transgender characters. in fact, a play called god of vengeance by sholem asch was forcibly closed down and all actors and producers were arrested for “obscenity” because it described a beautiful and loving homosexual relationship between two young women.

do you see now? do you get why censorship sucks? you can’t just have some censorship. anybody can view anything as obscenity. bigots will turn ANYTHING into obscenity and lump it in with all the “problematic” stuff y’all want to censor. lgbtq+, interracial romance, etc. it could all be lumped in there and censored too.

i would rather have a few stories in the world that i disagree with or a few stories that make me uncomfortable than absolutely no stories that depict the human experience in a raw, unfiltered, uncensored way because when you censor art, it immediately severs all human connection that could have been formed from it.

so yeah. antis get the fuck off my page unless you want to change. i hate you and all the censorship bullshit you stand for.

[moonlit-dreamers]

how we feeling after the new masm episode (IM SOBBINGGG GAHHHH LET THEM BE HOMOSEXUALS)

*sighs loudly*

its getting there. i am hoping thisll be some kinda wake up call for moon to work on getting better bc. jesus christ dude. its both disappointing yet understandable that sun rejected him. could he have been nicer about it? probably. but what he said was probably built up anger that he needed to let out and unfortunately moons confession was the trigger.

moons whole "idk how emotions work/i thought teasing worked" reminds me of the "boys will be boys" stuff you would hear after being shoved around bc they "have a crush on you" (speaking from experience -_-). like my brother in christ. it is not attractive to treat someone like shit. it makes them think you dont like them AND causes resentment to grow. this might sound shocking and ik it might be a bit foreign but... treating ppl nicely makes them like you more. ik its absolutely crazy but trust me its true.

im just hoping moon takes this as a chance to get better instead of the definitely super duper subtle foreshadowing that sun said at the end of the episode. i also desperately hope this isnt just some shitpost episode that adds nothing to the plot and is forgotten by the next video

[quitealotofsodapop]

JTTW-era Stone Egg part 2:

referencing this previous post about the Pilgrims reacting to the knowledge that au!Wukong is having a baby and has a missing mate.

Ao Lie is a real bro; he figured out Wukong was a having a kid based on his dragon/horse nose, and decides to support him 100% no matter his choice at the end of the day. The fact that he suspects its an asexually-produced Stone Egg that could kill his new buddy is something Ao Lie is keeping quiet about until Wukong himself is comfortable sharing it.

Ao Lie, after Bajie accuses him of having a crush on Wukong: "Ew no! He most certainly has a mate awaiting his return - I wouldn't dare dishonor a married demon!" Wukong, brightly playing along: "Yeah, piglet! Plus, no one will ever measure up to my Mihou!" Ao Lie, confused whinny: "Excuse me, what?" Wukong, tail curling into a heart: "The strongest, most clever monkey on Flower Fruit Mountain - my equal in all including on the battlefield. <3"

The rest of the gang are pleasantly surprised... and outraged to learn that their pregnant companion has a mate that up and left him while he was pregnant. Whomever this "Macaque" figure is, the Pilgrims gonna have a stern talk with him when they find him.

Except maybe the two former-celestials;

Bajie is just like: "Wait, did you just say this Macaque guy was your equal in battle!?" Wukong, wistful sigh: "Yeah..." Zhu Bajie & Sha Wujing: *share equally terrified looks*

Maybe they'll need to devise an attack strategy before confronting this guy head on. Ao Lie loudly states that he's gonna kick the guy if he sees him first.

Tripitaka meanwhile has to mentally wrap his head around the idea of two men marrying before he can process that *Sun Wukong* is married. The Confuscist / Buddhist attitudes at the time said "Girls have Karma Cooties"; so it was considered normal for men to "prefer other men's company" but it was still super-illegal. Being raised in a sheltered, likely all-male, monastery also adds in extra confusion for the monk. Not to mention his own asexuality.

Tripitaka: "Is it... acceptable for a man to love another man like one would a woman?" Zhu Bajie: "Only if they're into it." Tripitaka: "Wha...?"

Eventually he ends up asking the boddhisattvas and different gods for their opinions;

Tripitaka: "Is it normal amongst those in the Celestial Realm for men to... have thoughts of romance for other men?" Erlang: "Oh diyu, yeah! It's totally normal! We even have Tu'er Shen - he's the rabbit god of homosexual love!" Tripitaka, pleasantly surprised: "Oh! That's interesting - but is it accepted?" Erlang & the Plum Hill Lads: *share a footballer's huddle, whispering intensely* Erlang: "Ehhh... just don't bring it up around my uncle. He's kinda weird about it." Triptiaka, a little heartbroken: "Oh..."

Best advice comes from Guanyin herself ofc;

Guanyin: "I'm am composed of multiple energies, Tang Monk. Although I do not experience romantic feelings like say, Chang'e and Hou Yi, I know for a fact that the buddha does not judge those for whom they love - even if their fellow man do so." Tripitaka: *delighted smile!* Tripitaka, remembering why he asked: *fatherly instincts activate* "I'm going to kill that Liu'er Mihou for breaking my student's heart!"

In the Jttw Stone Egged au where Macaque lives, Tripitaka is the only one to get a solid punch in before Wukong calls the gang off.

Angst and canonical death tw under Read More;

Zhu Bajie ultimately starts out as a huge a-hole, and the Journey makes him a little less of a jerk. One huge change Wukong noticed in his bro's behavior was around the time... he lost Macaque.

Especially in the Slow Boiled au.

Bajie would walk up to Wukong like he did many time when he tried stealing his snacks or to poke fun at him... only to sit down next to the monkey watches the moon together. Both longing.

Zhu Bajie: "You know... I wasn't lying when I said I was cursed to suffer many heartbreaks... I know what it looks like from a mile away." Wukong: *says nothing, hiding face in his arms and knees* Zhu Bajie: "You really loved that guy, huh?" Wukong: *nods, face still hidden* Zhu Bajie, confidently: "...you'll see him again. Maybe not in this lifetime, but you will." Wukong, uncharacteristically quiet: "Thanks..." Zhu Bajie: "No problem."

The pig is noticeably easier on Wukong after that day. And maybe a little more appriciative of the time he had with Culian... he's experienced enough bad love-lifes to figure out how to make things work. Maybe after the Journey is over, he'll give her a call?

He does really hope his Eldest Brother and his mate reunite in the future... even if it means in the Diyu.

[jennelikejennay]

There's an experience a lot of aspec people have where they do like the idea of sex, just not of themselves participating in it. So they get off from porn, erotica, voyeurism, etc but they don't want to be touched sexually themselves. Everything is better second-hand.

I could go on and on about this: about what the appeal is, about why it's so frequently taken as problematic or fetishizing, about how a person who feels this way (cough, me) can have sex in ways that are satisfying to them and the people they love. I even wrote a fic about it (although normally, I'm writing fics because of it, not about it).

But today I just want to talk about the name.

See I mentioned it and somebody said "oh that's called aegosexual."

A: Greek for not

Ego: both Latin and Greek for I

Sexual: latinate suffix meaning, well, sexual. Generally used with reference to attraction.

Not-me-sexual.

I hate it SO MUCH. Not as an aspec person so much as as a classicist. Who is coining these things and have they even been peer-reviewed?!

First off, the a- Greek prefix becomes an- before a vowel, such as in anemia and anarchy. Putting a+e together makes a diphthong ae which is pronounced differently in ecclesiastical Latin (ā), classical Latin (ī), American English (usually ā) and British English (often ē). So faced with aegosexual I simply don't know how to pronounce it. Is this one of those words, like Latinx or m/m, that we readily use online but suddenly hang fire when we have to say it out loud? A word that works in only one medium is nonfunctional. So somebody better decide how we're all saying it or we'll be having a gif/gif debate forever.

Second, there's a general rule that we use Greek roots with other Greek roots and Latin with Latin. Hence why we say astronomy and not stellonomy, stethoscope and not thorascope. I will admit that we break this rule all the time: homosexual rather than similisexual or homoerotic, automobile rather than automaton or ipsemobile. Still, all things being equal I would prefer nonegosexual or perhaps sinegosexual (without-me-sex) just for the sake of smoothness. I'm discounting anegoerotic because of the two vowels in a row problem.

But then I start thinking, why are we defining this thing by what it's not? I don't mean I'm not attracted to myself (I think I'm cute, transporter clones please call me). I don't mean I will grudgingly accept sex so long as it doesn't involve me. I mean I actively am into sex that doesn't involve me. I tried calling it third-person sexuality but in English we can't compound with English roots really.

So let's go back to the drawing board!

The Greek pronouns for self and others are taken: autosexual means you're into yourself, allosexual means you're into other people (as opposed to ace). But the Latin ones are all wide open, and Latin is what I want, to go with sexual.

Latin has tons and tons of pronouns. SO MANY PRONOUNS. Nonbinary Romans would be looking at an absolute banquet. Along with our usual me, you, it, etc, we have a raft of pronouns which work well for distinguishing different subjects in their long-ass sentences. So you have hic, this, but you also have ipse, That, you know, The One, Himself, Her Upstairs. It's mildly emphatic. Then you have iste, which means something like "that over by you," but sometimes also kind of "that one, ugh." When a sentence begins Iste Caesar you know the author isn't a huge fan of Caesar. Like saying "your Caesar, not mine." But it could be more like istud poculum, hey can you pass that cup, the cup over by you? All of these are of course available in all three genders, two numbers, and five cases, giving us 30 forms to learn for each. Yay!

The one I want for this purpose is ille. It's the most general kind of that. Rather than "this by me" and "that by you," ille is "that over there, not near either of us."

So what about illesexual? Attracted to something over there in which neither you nor I am involved at all?

illesexual

What do you think, is it too late to make this happen?