#vivirpronouns

[dsbmgenric]

ey/em polygender, thon/thons polygender, and vi/vir polygender flags

[neopronouns-in-action]

Neopronouns in Action #046: 046

Neopronouns: Hero/heros/heroself which follow the same rules as it/its/itself.

Replace it with hero

Replace its with heros

Replace itself with heroself

EX:

"It is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as it gets a fence set up around its yard so the puppy can go outside without it having to walk it. Its uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting it use, since it lost its. It's going to buy toys and train the puppy itself."

Becomes:

"Hero is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as hero gets a fence set up around heros yard so the puppy can go outside without hero having to walk it. Heros uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting hero use, since hero lost heros. Hero's going to buy toys and train the puppy heroself."

Other neopronouns in this short story:

X/Xself

vi/vir/virself

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it's 1am and this has taken like over a week to write because we're in the middle of moving so it has not been 100% proofread. Let me know if you find typos please, lol...

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The sky had been threatening a storm for over an hour, and, quite suddenly, it made good on that threat.

One moment, all Alpaen had to contend with was the wind, and the cold it bore with it. The next, the rain was coming sheeting down, sweeping visibly up the street like a malevolent spirit.

It struck hero all at once, slamming in to soak heros hair and clothes within moments of the downpour. Then the rain conspired with the wind to shock what felt like every last drop of warmth from heros bones.

Huddled into heroself as best as hero could, the stone below hero did nothing to help, its surface as cold as ice, sapping more warmth out of heroes legs even through the fabric of heros thick, fluffy pajama pants.

Alpaen had nowhere to go. No shelter to turn to. Hero had no friends, no one hero could trust. The abandoned buildings were once again being patrolled by cops to scare off the homeless, a category that now included hero, but now this time, there was nothing hero could do about it. Hero couldn't even help heroself, let alone anyone else.

It would be at least three more days until heros powers came back, and that was only if hero not only took Verdict at vir word, but also trusted that vi knew what vi was talking about in the first place.

And why, exactly, did Verdict have any idea how Ferros' experiments worked, anyways? Since when did vi want anything to do with X? The last time hero had checked, just two weeks ago, Verdict had been trying to kill X. Desperately.

But then, maybe hero wasn't the first mutant Ferros had captured this month.

Maybe Verdict had had a very good reason for wanting to kill X, with so little regard for vir own safety that vi'd almost died from vir injuries trying to fight through what had seemed like an endless flood of Ferros' avatars. With vir mutation, it was hard to tell what was happening under all those spikes and fur.

Maybe hero could take vir word for it that, three days from now, hero'd be able to shapeshift at will again, and leave behind not only all the things hero hated about the body hero'd had to deal with since puberty, but all the new things hero wanted to stop being reminded of every time hero looked at heroself.

Alpaen had been able to bear the unwanted changes from puberty while hero knew that as soon as the school bell rang, as soon as heros mom left the house, as soon as hero could lock heros door and know she wouldn't come beating it down demanding to be let in...hero could simply change heros body into the one hero desperately wanted.

It had been bearable, as long as hero knew that it wouldn't last. Hero had always had that reprieve to cling to, that relief.

But now that was gone, and so many worse things had swept in to take its place, and the only hope hero had left to cling to that hero would ever get it back was the word of a self-styled Villain.

There hadn't been any way to hide the fact that Alpaen'd been missing for five days. Even if heros mom had, by some miracle, not noticed heros absence, Springs Mill had. You couldn't just miss five days of school without anyone noticing.

Heros mom had called the police and reported hero missing, the first night. The cops of course had done nothing.

For the first few seconds after she walked in the door to their apartment to see Alpaen slumped on the couch, tiredly eating barely thawed frozen pancakes, for just a few seconds, maybe even a dozen heartbeats, she'd been relieved, through her shock. Overjoyed to see hero.

But then her brain had caught up to what her eyes were seeing.

--If you could project yourself back in time and stand invisibly in the room, you could actually watch and see the exact moment she took in the glowing green lines tracing over heros exposed skin, and the unmistakable metal knobs still protruding from heros arms and legs. The number stamped in bright white on the back of heroes left hand.

If you pulled aside any random kid on the street and asked them what all these details, combined with a sudden disappearance, meant, they'd be able to tell you, without a moment of hesitation: You were looking at a mutant who'd been captured, experimented on, and then released by Ferros.

And that would have fine, her knowing that hero was a mutant, knowing that hero'd been captured and tortured. She was very vocally pro mutant. Her older sister had been a mutant. She would probably have hired the best therapist money could buy if it was just that her child was a mutant. And if that therapist didn't help she'd hire another one.

The problem was not heros mother finding out hero was a mutant. It wasn't that her child was going to need her help and support to recover from this ordeal.

No.

That wasn't the problem.

The problem was the realization that hero, her child, was Changeling, the city-designated villain who was openly trans and nonbinary lesbian, only answering to the ironic pronouns of hero/heros/heroself.

Changeling, who had brazenly robbed her company's CEO on live television in his own home, and had, along with dozens of other city-designated villains, declared outright war on the police and the city-designated heroes who were on their side.

She could forgive the assault and robbery of her CEO. She didn't really like him anyways, he was a misogynist and was always making lewd jokes. She could even forgive the fighting with the cops. She had a love-hate relationship with the government, where she thought it was simultaneously too big when it wanted her to pay taxes so poor kids could eat lunch at school, but also not big enough when she wanted refugees to be hunted down and shoved back over the borders.

She could twist her paradoxical ideas about the police – too strong when they were giving her a speeding ticket in a school zone, too weak when they hadn't rounded up all the homeless people in the city and tossed them in jail yet – into a shape that let her convince herself that her child was only fighting them to stand up against injustices like speeding tickets and other traffic violations, things she cared about, and not that hero'd been fighting to defend the very same 'degenerates and predators' she wanted removed from the city streets. The homeless, the poor, the Queer, the people of color, the disabled...

No, she did not have a problem with hero fighting the cops.

But everyone knew that Changeling had been captured by Ferros. Several villain-cams had caught the altercation on film, and it had been shared through her favorite Neighborhood Watch groups.

Changeling going missing, and her child going missing, could have been just a coincidence. But that was when she thought her child was a normal human, not a mutant.

She'd have had no problem if Alpaen was just a mutant. But hero wasn't. Hero was Changeling, the most flagrantly and proudly Queer villain on their side of the city.

And that she could not condone.

She had gone on a rant, raging and screaming so loudly that if their neighbors hadn't both been at work, the ovlume would have brought the police to their door.

Just because Alpaen (But she didn't say Alpaen, even though hero'd just told her heros chosen name, she deadnamed hero, and put stress on every pronoun to drive the hatred in like a knife between the ribs) was a mutant didn't mean hero wasn't the gender hero'd been assigned at birth. The words themselves were nothing but complimentary, but the voice was filled with scathing rage and hatred.

Heros body changing shape did not mean hero wasn't still the gender hero'd been assigned at birth. Just because heros body could changed didn't mean heros spirit was changing too.

Alpaen tried the best hero could to explain, that hero had always felt this way, even before hero'd developed the power to shapeshift, even before hero'd had the words “trans” and “nonbinary” to describe what hero was feeling.

But Alpaen's mom thought that hero was calling heroself nonbinary just because hero was a shapeshifter.

She didn't understand, nor did she care, that even in a world where no one had superpowers, where no one could change their shape except through surgery, even in a world where magic didn't exist, even in a universe where hero wasn't a shapeshifter or even a mutant, hero would still be nonbinary. Would still be transgender. Would still want to change heros body to match what hero felt it should look like in heros guts.

She had the cause and effect backwards. She thought hero was nonbinary because hero was a shapeshifter.

She didn't understand that if hero weren't nonbinary, the only shapeshifting hero would be doing would be hiding heros identity and for fighting.

If hero weren't nonbinary, hero would just be changing the color of heros hair and tweaking heros voice and changing up the structure of heros facial bones and height, just enough that no one would recognize hero, even without heros amphibisona. Or just the more extreme things like growing wings when hero needed to fly, or squeezing through thin cracks under doors.

Alpaen had figured out hero was nonbinary long before hero manifested the mutation that let hero shapeshift. But no amount of begging or pleading or crying had let hero convince heros mom of any of that. Hero'd wanted to shout at her, but she'd just shouted hero down every time, all but literally covering her ears for what hero had to say.

Hero'd been kicked out without any chance to grab any of heros things.

All hero had now were the clothes on heros back, and that didn't amount to much – just heros favorite, worn out hoodie, and fluffy pajama pants. Both had leopard pattern spots, in slightly different shades of brown and yellow, since they were from different brands and bought years apart. Hero'd owned the hoodie so long, and worn it so often, that the elbows were bare threads. It had long since outlived its ability to keep hero worm, but Alpaen hadn't ever been able to work up the heart to throw it away, no matter how many times hero was nagged or made fun of about it by heros mom, teachers, or classmates.

Alpaen hadn't even been allowed to bring heros shoes. Heros mom had just laughed in heros face and told hero that if hero didn't want to go without shoes, then hero should use heros nonbinary freak powers to grow some new ones.

She knew just as well as anyone by this point that mutants who were captured by Ferros couldn't use their powers for several days afterward, if they ever regained the ability to use their powers in the first place.

Some people never got them back.

Hero had only heros socks to keep heros feet warm, and they were already soaked through with rain.

To put it simply: Alpaen was freezing cold, soaking wet, had no friends or family to stay with, hadn't eaten anything in five days except what Verdict had given hero, and the single Pop-Tart hero'd eaten at home before being discovered and kicked out, and to make all these things even worse, the library, where hero'd thought hero'd at least be able to find temporary shelter from the elements, was closed.

Alpaen would only learn this later, but while hero had been locked away in Ferros' lab, there'd been an attempted shooting at the library. The only reason nobody had died was because one of the librarians had secretly been Javelina, and she'd been able to take down the would-be gunman before he could fire on anyone.

Then the police had shown up, and instead of arresting the shooter, decided that Javelina was holding the library hostage, despite all the protests of the regular people inside, Javelina, and even the shooter himself.

The whole horrific event had only ended when Bulldozer and several other as-yet-unnamed city-designated villains surrounded and killed the police, and teleported the victims, including Javelina, away to safety so they could get home, or wherever they needed to go, without having to parade in front of the news cameras.

Hero had noticed, if only subconsciously, that the roads for several blocks leading up to the library were emptied of cars, and no one seemed to be home. The city rulers had decided to react to the incident by arresting, or at least trying to arrest, everyone who'd witnessed it in person, or even just been in the general vicinity. To “prevent the spread of false news designed to invoke distrust in the police”, they said.

If Alpaen's mom hadn't come home right when she did, Alpaen would have been able to see a recap of the story on the news, but fate had it that heros mom had come home and just the right time for hero to miss the memo that the shelter offered by the library was no longer available.

This meant that Alpaen had to spend almost an entire hour sitting alone, cold and miserable beyond words, on the freezing steps of the library in the rain, heros body wracked with sobs as hero finally cried with the tsunami of emotions that had built up over the past week.

This also meant, though, that when the dark red minivan turned the corner at the end of the street and began to approach, the headlights shone on Alpaen, so that when hero looked up, hero had to lift a hand to shield heros eyes from the glare.

And the person inside the car saw the telltale signs of Ferros' mistreatment, glowing neon green even in headlamps, seeming brighter still in its contrast against Alpaen's dark brown skin.

All of the events proceeding these moments meant that when that minivan pulled up in front of the steps leading up to the library, and the door on the side pulled open, Alpaen was sitting there, tired, cold, in pain, drenched, and desperate for any help.

At first hero couldn't see anything inside the car, then someone clicked the overhead light on, and hero was met with a familiar sight – one hero hadn't been expecting.

“You look like you could use some help. Want a lift?” Verdict, in vir full costume and mask, asked, voice pitched to be audible over the pounding of the rain.

Vi was sitting in the middle section of the van, leaning towards the open door across the armrest. Vir usual horns were notably missing – Alpaen could only assume they were too tall to fit in the car without gouging the roof. An unfamiliar person was sitting in the driver's seat, features obscured under a hoodie and lower face mask, staying facing forward, head turning slowly to scan the two empty roads on either side. A large yellow beach towel had been draped over the seat inside the open door.

For a few seconds, Alpaen stared at that open door, and the shelter offered by it. Waves of warmth were fighting their way free through the rain, just barely touching the tip of heros nose before being dashed away by the downpour.

It took a few long heartbeats of sitting, freezing and shivering in the rain, for hero to decide that the reasons to trust Verdict far outweighed the reasons not to.

Verdict had set up camp at Ferros' dumping grounds, and had been the first friendly face hero had seen (or rather, not seen, hidden behind vir draconic mask) since hero'd been kidnapped days before.

Vi had given hero the first food hero'd had since Ferros had grabbed hero. It hadn't been much – a few scrambled eggs and some toast, cooked over vir very own fire in vir camp at the edge of the clearing – but the food, and the compassion and caring literally baked into it, had been enough to ensure that Alpaen could get all the way home, driven there in this very car, without simply collapsing into a singularity of despair.

Alpaen had thought hero could trust heros mom, but she had betrayed hero, cast hero aside like hero was worth nothing.

Hero had never expected to find any ally in Verdict, the self-proclaimed Villain with a capital V.

But vi was the one who had waited for hero to be released, and vi was the one who was here now, offering shelter, and not just from the rain.

Vi had made this offer earlier, when vir mysterious friend had first driven hero home from the woods. If heros secret identity was revealed, if heros family wasn't accepting, or if hero needed help, hero could come to vir. Vi could offer food, clothing, and a place to sleep and spend the day, far enough away from the prying eyes of the cops that if hero didn't want to be found, it would be, not impossible, but more effort than most people would be willing to put in to figure out where hero'd gone.

Probably, vi had said, the only one who would be able to track hero would be Ferros Xself. Vi had been wearing vir full costume then, too, so Alpaen hadn't been able to see if vi had a matching scar on vir upper arm – the glowing purple circle that marked the tracker Ferros placed in each of X victims.

No one had been able to remove them without irreparably damaging themselves, not even those whose mutation gave them the ability to heal at a faster rate. Trying to remove the tracker didn't just damage your arm – it wreaked havoc on your whole nervous system.

And that was if you could muster up the guts to try and get it removed in the first place.

Alpaen had spent the last few hours trying not to think about the tracker embedded in heros arm. Thinking about it for too long, and thinking about removing it, in particular, caused a surge of irrational panic and anxiety in the victim that was impossible to resist.

Hero had gotten a good enough look at heros when Ferros had implanted it, along with the number X had assigned Alpaen. X gave all X victims numbers. No one knew who the first few victims had been. People had only started coming forward after number 008.

Marked directly under the transmitter, glowing burning green against heros dark skin, was the number “046”. Which meant there were at least 45 victims who'd come before hero, and who knew how many who would come after.

Did Verdict have the number 045 marked on vir arm, hidden under that armour?

Hero wasn't going to ask.Vi was still waiting for Alpaen's answer to vir offer of...what was so much more than a ride, still leaning across the seat, vir eyeless mask as impassive as ever. But hero didn't need to be a mind reader to know that vi wanted Alpaen to say yes. Vi wanted to help.

And there weren't any good reasons for hero to say no. Hero had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Heros mom had disowned hero. The cops would, at best, toss hero in jail for loitering before even asking any questions. All of the official homeless shelters in the city had been shut down or burned down, and the unofficial ones were slowly being pressed out of existence.

Alpaen had to struggle to get to heros feet, the cold numbing heros hands and feet and making heros joints slow and uncooperative. Hero couldn't even feel heros fingers anymore. But hero made it down the stairs, into the van, and into the towel-draped seat without incident. The difference in temperature was immediate, warmth enveloping hero before hero'd even sat down.

Alpaen went to drag the van door shut with one numb hand, only to be met with resistance. But before hero could yank again in frustration, Verdict held out a hand, and said, “Just give it a moment, it's automatic. Pull it again, just a little, and let go. It'll shut on its own.”

Alpaen did as instructed, and watched in bafflement as the car door slowly slid its way shut and securely latched itself.

Hero let heroself fall back against the seat in sudden exhaustion, and tiredly pulled the seatbelt across and clicked it into place.

“We're buckled and ready to go.” Verdict said. The person in the driver's seat nodded, and only then did the car begin to move, pulled away from the stairs and back onto the road, performing a very illegal U-turn to get back the way they'd come. Alpaen didn't think there was anyone in the abandoned houses to notice or care.

Heros hands began to prickle with pins and needles as they regained feeling. Hero knew heros face would soon follow where the wind had bitten at hero's cheeks and nose. Hero hadn't even been allowed to take any of heros covid masks when hero'd been kicked out, a fact that was abruptly beating a dent into heros self-possession.

Homeless, cold, hungry, tired, in pain, and in a car with people without a mask.

“Sorry.” Alpaen managed to bite out, fighting with all heros strength not to start crying again.

Verdict didn't seem to understand what hero was apologizing for, because vi replied, “Don't be, this van has handled a lot worse than some rainwater.” Then vi added, “It'll be about an hour until we get where we're going, and you'll be able to change out of those wet clothes when we get there, but if you're comfortable with it and trust me, I can offer a flame to help dry them now. It won't harm you, it promises not to, but some people are too afraid of fire to get to know it. Would you like to see it now before you make up your mind? You can always change your mind later.”

Heros eyelids were starting to feel heavy, heros bones seeming to want to drag hero down into the core of the Earth as well-earned exhaustion began to take over heros body. But hero was still awake enough to follow what Verdict was saying, and understand what vi was offering.

“I'll take one.” hero said. Hero didn't need any demonstration, hero'd already seen vir flames too many times to count. Hero knew they wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone vi didn't want them to. And if vi wanted to hurt hero, vi had had plenty of opportunities to do it before now that wouldn't ruin the upholstery of vir fancy car with automatic doors.

“Say the word and I'll desummon it immediately.” Verdict instructed, then lifted a hand, fingers pressed together. Vi drew them apart, and a small, round yellow flame drew itself into existence with the movement. It hovered over vir hand for a few seconds, swirling into itself, casting yellow and orange flickering shadows over the walls and ceiling.

Then it began to uncurl itself, growing bigger as it did so, until it was in a form that was unmistakably that of a cat, Verdict's other hand going up to support its back feet.

“Hold your hands out to create a platform, and it can come to you.” Vi said. Alpaen obeyed, mesmerized by the way the flames moved. As hero watched, hero could have sworn that rosettes were visible, flickering at the surface of the fire, each one lasting only a few moments before it was gone.

The touch of the flame's paw on heros hand was not burning hot, the way heros mind had expected it to be despite all heros rationality arguing that it wouldn't hurt. It was not hot enough to burn, but it was warm.

Hero didn't know how to pick up the flame other than hold heros hands flat the way Verdict was, but luckily the flame had ideas of its own, and easily hopped down off heros hands and onto heros lap, where it curled up into a cat-shaped ball.

The flame didn't purr, not like a real cat would have, but it did radiate warmth in every direction, and that was just as welcome. Hero could practically feel the water evaporating out of heros clothes one drop at a time.

Alpaen wasn't consciously aware of closing heros eyes, the only thing hero knew, or cared about at that moment, was that hero was warm, hero was safe, and more than anything else, hero was tired.

Hero slept, and the car drove on in silence into the dark.

[neopronouns-in-action]

Neopronouns in action: vi/vir, which will follow the same rules as he/him for this example.

Replace he with vi Replace him with vir Replace  his with vis Replace himself with virself

EX:

"He is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as he gets a fence set up around his yard so the puppy can go outside without him having to walk it. His uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he's letting him use, since he lost his."

Becomes:

“Vi is going to adopt a new puppy soon, as soon as vi gets a fence set up around vis yard so the puppy can go outside without vir having to walk it. Vis uncle is going to help set up the fence, since he has a set of power tools he’s letting vir use, since vi lost vis.”

This is also a free writing prompt!

You can also listen to this story being read on the web archive (which may be slower to load, but you can download it from there) and youtube:

[ID: A video showing a title card that reads, “Dailyish Neopronouns #3, vi/vir/vis/virself, read along in the description below! :)” with a smiley face at the end. The rest of the video shows a recording of a computer screen as the narrator reads the story transcribed below. End ID.]

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A Different Perspective

Vi was born under blood moons, and so spent the first thirty years of vis life in the Maw of Kyrun, being taught the skills required of all blood hunters.

Vi learned how to focus vis sight to see past the energy and into the body world, the realm that very few kiyal who were born under other moons would ever even get a glimpse of. There were a rare few who had the ability, of course, because nothing could ever be neat or simple, but they were few and far between, and it was even rarer for any of them to match up to even the weakest of blood hunters.

On vis thirty-first anniversary of life, vi was discharged from the Maw of Kyrun after the ceremony of degradation, that would make vis status as a blood hunter official in all the laws of the world. Vi was now qualified to take contracts for anyone who required the services of a blood hunter, with the Maw of Kyrun to be held personally responsible for any misbehavior on vis part, so that the contractors would feel secure in bargaining for vis services.

Now a free to travel wherever vi wished, the first thing vi did was head north, towards the pole. Vi’d read so many stories about the atmosphere there, it had always been vis dream to visit once vi graduated, and now vi had that chance. The Maw of Nuryk had been built right on top of the maelstrom, chained into place by the careful work of thousands of workers and scholars so that it would not budge a heartbeat out of place even if the world ended tomorrow.

They would welcome vir into their ranks happily, and vi would take vis turn fulfilling whatever menial tasks the Maw required for its various forms of upkeep when vi was not currently under contract. A third of vis payment would go to the Maw of Nuryk while vi was sheltered there, and the leadership would in return use that payment to continue trading resources and communications with the Maw of Kyrun, and, further south, the Maw of Yrunk, and to the east, the Maw of Unkyr.

There were other Maws out there, further away, too far for easy communication, and though vi had studied their history while vi was younger, the information hadn’t been crucial, and so it had faded with time, overwhelmed by all the other things vi had learned that were more pressing and important. 

Like how to descend safely, and make sure you would be able to ascend again. How to carry someone back with you if they fell, how to interact with the body world without becoming trapped, how to communicate with the benevolent bodies, and most importantly, how to track and banish or kill the bodies, sometimes called projections, that entered their world.

Vi had already ventured down into the body world several times while vi was still an apprentice so that the older, more experienced blood hunters could demonstrate the proper techniques. It was one thing to be told how to do something, to study diagrams, it was another entirely to be there in the body world trying to do it properly yourself.

The task had been to communicate with the local benevolent body that had worked with the Maw of Kyrun for generations, helping to guide the younger students down the right path.

Parsing its style of communicating had been vis most challenging lesson in vis whole life. Vi could not simply watch and listen, vi needed to sink deep into meditation, and feel the vibrations the body’s voice sent through the atmosphere. Vis task was to establish clear, two-way communication, and to prove that vi was able to communicate with the body－whose name, vi had been told, was Silver Metal－vi had to find the well-hidden body object that Silver Metal guided vir to, then the reverse, with vir guiding Silver Metal to the sympheric object the elder blood hunters had sunken down into the body world and hidden, with its location only revealed to vir once vi had found the first object.

Silver Metal, as a body, had been alien and strange, but not as frightening as vi had been afraid of. Yes, it was dense, almost solid, but there was the slightest hint of sympherory that resonated from it at all times, and that, vi was told, by Silver Metal itself, was how they were able to communicate.

Vi would not be able to see Silver Metal again unless vi returned to the Maw of Kyrun, but there would be other local bodies near the Maw of Nuryk, some of them benevolent, who would help vi in vis tasks when necessary, and some of them wicked. These were the ones vi would help to track down when they invaded the real world, and depending on their level of hostility and their ability to inflict damage, they would either be banished, or killed outright.

Vi had never had to kill a wicked body yet, or even met one. The Maw of Kyrun had a large network of benevolent bodies surrounding it, and they did their part to stop the wicked bodies before they could breach the sympheric world. This would not be the case at the pole, which was another of the many reasons vi had chosen it as vis first station.

The number of wicked bodies intruding into the real world had been rising there for the past few years, with more and more blood hunters being drawn in to deal with it. No where else within travel distance needed as much assistance as the pole did, and vis job was to help, above all else, so that’s where vi would go.