#but do not only call them out and ignore the cis white men around you who barely get a slap on the wrist for raping women in your community

[theamazingannie]

I’m sick of Zionists (plus transphobes and racists who do this too) pretending to care about women to suit their agenda. If you REALLY care about women being raped, where are you when 1 in 6 women are estimated to experience sexual assault at least once in their lifetime? Where are you when most rapes aren’t even reported because no one believes women? Where are you when most reported rapes are dismissed because of a “lack of evidence”? Where are you when most rape cases that go to trial fail to get a conviction? Where are you when the ones that DO get a conviction only lead to a jail time of a few months? Where are you when the cis white men in your own country rape women and make jokes about raping women and beating women and treating women like shit? Imagine if all the people who use the rape of women to suit their agendas used that energy to care about ALL rapes. Imagine how quickly rape culture would end. But you don’t actually care about women. You just know that the people who side against you care about women, so you use that to appeal to them. PROVE you care about women other than when it’s useful to you. Attack the rapists in your own communities instead of ignoring those ones and only attacking rapists outside your communities

[sapphicsvibes]

my last post was also about the discussions of transmisogyny centering cis female athletes who are women of color. there is a wider conversation being had about transmisogyny in athletics, and that is that, trans women aren't even allowed to compete. before we start discussing how transmisogyny impacts not trans fems, we need to actually center the discussion around the heavily, transmisogynstic shit that is already happening.

and when we talk about how cis woc athletes being overly masculinized and decide to call it transmisogyny instead of what it actually is, racism, it sets us back. there is this understood idea that people can be indirectly impacted by transmisogyny, but unless the subjects of those conversations are transfeminine people, then the focus shouldn't be transmisogyny.

it should be racism. it should be the fact that the white, western gender binary and idea of femininty/womanhood is so fucked up that cis girls of color from a young age are viewed as more masculine, dangerous and larger than white women. we should be focusing on the complexities of misogynoir that black girls go through from childhood to adult hood where we are both masculinized and also hypersexualized and exposed to harmful race science that gets us preyed upon by older men. we should focus on how these conversations of masculinizing women of color comes to play in how white women and white afabs (yes, i know i said i dont like using afabs but i am starting ot use it when discussing the lived experience of white afab people and how that negatively impacts people of color in queer spaces) can utilize their privilege, tears, femininity, etc., to turn society against cis girls of color and how we are automatically seen as a threat to them

we need to talk about racialized misogyny when dicussing imane khelif, and how white women like jk rowling, who has a history of transmigoyny yes, but also anti-arab/MENA racism and islamaphobia, and is prominent in alt right groups, is using her platform to attack a possible muslim, MENA woman. and that's a big thing that hardly anyone talks about - Rowling is heavily islamphobia and anti-arab. when you se guys see her attacking a MENA woman, and decide to focus solely on transmisogyny, you are quite literally erasing a huge chunk of her bigotry.

yes, indirect transmisogyny comes to play, but when you are talking about racialized misogyny, you NEED to make sure that is the main focus - racism and misogyny, because if you don't you make it hard if not impossible for us to have any type of productive conversation. you guys being too afraid to call out racism and misogyny makes it seem like you are shielding white women/afabs and white society from the pain they have put women of color through for decades.

the same goes for misogynoir??? like when we are talking about misogynoir and them completely ignore it and lump it under transmisogyny, who does that help? not only does the black community have an issue with transmisogyny in general, but it also erases a term that we've come up with to help better discuss our oppression.

also, this isn't to say that trans woc don't face racialized misogyny and misogynoir (black transfems!) because they do. but it should be understood that while THEY face these things, transmisogyny is something that should also center them. and while we, as non trans fem women do face racialized misogyny/misogynoir - yeah, sometimes we can draw comparisons between transmisogyny, but we shouldn't be the ones taking the lead or taking platforms.

and last but not least, the way you guys who are claiming what is happening to cis female athletes is transmisogynistic. Do you know how many trans people, who aren't trans fem, that i've seen saying

"see, this is why we need to talk about transmisogyny affecting non transfems! xyz athlete was actually born a woman, she's not a man, she is afab! she has a vagina!" do you realize how that language is terfy, do you realize how you guys will try to hijack convos of transmisogyny while also reinforcing transmisogynistic requirements of what makes a woman a woman?

[dykeulous]

“haha xd trans people roleplay as cis people! we are just like cis people! trans men speak over trans women just like cis men speak over cis women! haha!”

1.) you do not see misogyny as a real problem and i can tell that just by looking at you 2.) yes, y’all are “just like cis people”, but not in the way you think! trans women are the ones speaking over trans men just like cis men speak over cis women 3.) if you’re going to cry “noo transmisogyny!” over this i better not see you being misogynistic to trans men.

trans women still have to unlearn their misogyny. they have been socialized male (unless you have such an idealist & fucked up view of socialization that you think it’s based on internal identity & feelings) & their male upbringing does not fade once they come to terms with their dysphoria. trans women do face oppression & unique struggles, transmisogyny is real– i have no intents on denying any of this (although i know the people nitpicking & micromanaging my words will try to twist what i said anyway), but their dysphoria & oppression do not cancel out their male upbringing, and they still have to reflect on their misogyny. they aren’t sweet innocent frail babies exempt from bigotry– but even attempting to acknowledge this & break it down will get you called a terf. trans women do not, and i repeat, do not benefit from your lazy idealist “activism” & “dutiful allegiance to the trans cause”. you lack meaningful class analysis & dialectical materialism– the entirety of your beliefs revolve around a pseudo-religious spiritual system. trans women who genuinely do face horrific violence (guess from who? from MALES) + deal with painful sex dysphoria are not helped when you propagate girlcock. the trans women who are sex trafficked are not suddenly rescued when you yell “those evil terfs are the reason why trans people face violence!! 🤬”. you actively activate & trigger trans women’s sex dysphoria when you recycle grossly pornographic & fetishistic content regarding trans women’s physiology & genitals. and the only trans women who benefit from this are the agps (and i’ll even go as far as to say that not all agps are inherently malicious), baeddel-adjacents, and non-dysphoric trans-identified males. those are the people creating the heavily pornographic accounts that specifically target vulnerable trans men. not the people who actually face abhorrent marginalization. you are not a trans ally if you do not recognize the inherent power imbalance between a non-transitioned trans man & a non-transitioned agp trans woman. you are a religious spiritualist who only considers internal identity.

we cannot tackle power dynamics & privilege/oppression within the trans community if we keep having such a black-and-white view of thinking. we cannot have any meaningful conversation if we shun down specific groups (“terfs”) without even trying to listen to the groups & immediately labeling them as evil– we risk silencing fellow trans people’s voices. not everything is as simple as oppressor/oppressed. saying that trans women don’t benefit from male privilege at all and that trans men inherently do is the most narrow-minded reactionary claim. trans women are not always The Most Oppressed Most Victimized™. trans women should not be defended & allowed to just walk away without facing any consequences when they implicitly & explicitly harm people (and a lot of times their victims are specifically trans men, which is something that should be talked about). we cannot ignore intracommunity violence (& of course violence in general), shut trans men up whenever they speak up under the guise of “guys let’s please just stop the trans woman and trans man war!! let’s just love each other please 🥺 trans unity!!”, and virtue signal feminists when they call out shitty behavior from trans women. that will not get us anywhere, and the continuation of this What About the Black Trans Women Suffering the Most?! rhetoric will also not get us anywhere– those trans women aren’t being helped with your whataboutism & strawmanning. you aren’t helping the trans women you so much claim to love when you yell transfem supremacy, tgirldick, and kill terfs.

[atlas-library]

fantasy au nanami PIG RAINBOW YELLOW HEART PLEASE

🤭🤭🤭

☾ chaotics ☽ a character ask.（001）

〝blood-red seeds of war are sown.〞

fandom: jujutsu kaisen character: nanami kento (amab!nanami) universe: alternative universe (fantasy!au, chaotics!au) trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol, blood, mentions of nsfw. Reader's discretion is advised.

more jujutsu kaisen ⭒ more 'chaotics' au ⭒ more nanami kento ⭒ taglist ⭒ ko-fi

🌈​ RAINBOW — what is their sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

Nanami has always identified as a man, despite being partly elf and travelling to many realms with non-gender conforming cultures; it doesn't have to do with what he has between his legs, though. Being a man is everything but shallow: it's the way one behaves, with others but also with oneself, the steadiness of one's voice and the protective aura— Very specific to men. It's like magma rock, obsidian— It has to do with one's soul. Nanami identifies as a cis man, and uses he/him.

Nanami doesn't really care about what's between someone's legs; he's not the type to mess around, especially when it comes to sex— If you end up under the sheets with him, it means something. On paper, Nanami could fall in love with any gender; reality is a bit harsher on him. He fell in love with two men, and a single woman— The latter was the witch, his mother. He saw her burn thanks to human prejudice. The first man he fell in love with was the kid— His kid. Now gone forever, yet on everyone's lips; the vice around his heart tightens every day just thinking of him. Finally, the second man— White hair, blue eyes, pale skin— He'd bite it, grab it to leave marks, listen to the symphony of moans his love would let out— It was too good to be true. A young spirit too selfish to love him back; a tragedy he had seen coming, yet had decided to ignore. On paper, Nanami could love anyone; the reality is harsher, making him focus on a single soul— The man he banished. Nanami is demisexual and romantic, and currently has a man on his mind.

🐷 PIG FACE — what is their favourite animal?

Although Nanami has always been very fond of cats, he's more of a bird guy— His favourite bird is the raven. He relates to it a lot, too; the maladaptive socialisation, the misunderstandings in regard to his job, the loyalty to those he loves yet can't protect. Nanami watches at dawn when the unkindness of ravens rears its head, still dirty from unicorn blood. The birds are calling him— Always screaming and laughing, groaning and cackling, pretending to pick at his skin with their sharp beaks. Nanami throws monster meat at them, and he's done it so many times they know he's the one feeding them. The morning after he had banished his love, flocks of ravens were flying in circles around the Sisterhood. Utahime told him witches prefer crows to ravens, 'yet these ones smell like you'. Nanami smelled like stale alcohol that day— Still, she'd made it sound like a compliment.

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

After living on this damned land for so long, Nanami has had time to learn foreign languages; after years of travelling, killing what sans called 'monsters' for a golden coin and sleeping next to cows and sheep (when he was lucky), Nanami can speak multiple languages: Leavian, the most common, is the first one. He was born in this realm, and only ran away after it killed his mother. Even then, wars had made Leavian the most common language throughout the continent. The language from the Golden Realm, though, which he also spoke, was more commonly used by merchants— Or inhabitants of the mystical realm. Nanami had found himself speaking this language more often than he thought he'd need— The perks of merchants fearing for their merchandise; they'll hire anyone who speaks their tongue. His time spent at the Sisterhood, as well as his friendship with witches, had also taught him Old S'irh, the forgotten language of elves and sirens. Every time Nanami would use his magic and pronounce spells, Old S'irh would roll off his tongue like a dull blade would try and cut through skin: it sliced, with a lot of patience. Even sirens, known for holding secrets from the Old World, struggled with Old S'irh; ever since the slaughter from the Dark Age, they seemed to have lost their roots. Shōko was his closest connection to the dead language, and even she was still mourning the countless songs forgotten in the depths of the sea, surely all filled with hints to the rich sirenic folklore. Nanami isn't learning any new language; Old S'irh is too big of a mystery, still too vast for him to feel content— He seeks linguistic adventures, and Old S'irh is the uncharted ocean opening its arms to him.

This was very fun to write hehe, thanks for the ask! 🤭

Feel free to like and reblog; if you wish to be added to the taglist, my comments and inbox are open. My askbox is currently open for any question or opinion. :)

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

"Men are the problem with the gaming community"

*Sigh* people make it really hard to not discuss this stuff. Really and truly is love to never talk about men's and women's issues at all. Because it's always stupidly divisive. What's more, I two to be as middle of the road as I can be on all of this. This despite having claims levied against me that I hate women. I don't. Not even remotely. However, I can't ignore stuff like that above quote because I have nephews who I want to grow up in a world where they don't have to feel like predators and evil people for just existing.

This video showcase a woman talking about how "men are the issue with gaming communities and she feels physically unsafe in gaming lobbies"

First of all, no you don't. You have a mute button and a block button. Hell you have a MUTE ALL button in most lobby based games. But gaming started as mostly a male thing. Contrary to what a lot those that won't agree say, having never had to make a shift towards advertising to men and boys because it has always interested men and boys. That's not to say in any metric that women were never interested in video games at all but that number was significantly less. Men involve themselves in a lot of banter and generally trash talk one another quite a bit. And the important point about all of that is the fact that men have a tendency to speak incredibly harshly when they don't mean it. Because they know how they talk to one another that's why whenever you hear some of the most vile stuff in a Halo or call of duty lobby, people will literally start laughing. Because it's so offhanded and unhinged that it's funny. And 99.99% of the things said in a call of duty lobby outside of maybe making plans with IRL friends tends to be random nonsense.

But the fact of the matter is men don't make gaming communities worse. But a lot of men are not going to temper their speech just because women are in their spaces. Yes, gaming is very much a shared space and that has been something that men have wanted for a long time. Having said that however men have wanted their cake and eat it too in this particular instance because a lot of women that end up as influencers like the one featured in this video tend to be the worst kind.

Because not only did she blame all men for being evil effectively, but she also went out of her way to say that she wanted to make sure that her and her partner did not have a cis male child. She wanted to make sure that they do everything in their power to make them trans or gay. With someone coming around to try to say that it was a joke but had none of the signs of a punchline. Not just that but she sounded 100% serious in saying it and did not have a joking tone or demeanor at all. As such I'm going to take her at face value because she's not a known comedian like Ryan Reynolds who does dry humor. The difference is he's funny. Joking about making your kid trans or gay so they don't end up being cis or straight isn't a joke and it's not even remotely funny.

However I should say this. I do not believe in any capacity that gaming should be a male only or completely male dominated by force space. However people need to understand that men and women fundamentally communicate differently. Even as young as teenagers and before. That's just truth.

But I also want to add this, the idea of men patrolling other men and gaming spaces just seems and feels dishonest to me. If you can't stand the heat get out of the volcano. (I feel like the proper version of this phrase would be in poor taste). Men do typically patrol other men and manners that actually matter. But you need to realize one very specific thing. When men stand up to other men for shit talking women, especially in places where it is typically male-dominated, the end result is that man getting absolutely eviscerated because he is seen as a white knight. Because I don't know about you but the women that I know in gaming spaces can give back as well as they can get. And they shit talk like one of the guys. And honestly I have a lot of respect for them because of it. Because if you can't handle it maybe the spaces aren't for you. Or you can play without voices on lobby.

But this very much sounds like a case of invading a space and demanding it changed to cater to what you want. Yes, there are men out there that are complete shitheads. And I'm not going to say that that's not the case. And if one of those people in game finds a way to stalk you or otherwise that's something entirely different. And in cases like that you will have men stand up and figure out how to communicate with this person and deal with them. But people need to very much understand that there is a difference between bullying/harassment, and trash talking. And when it comes to FPS games and fighter games trash-talking is par for the course.

[bard-like]

a ramble about sexuality and gender envy that weighs on my chest

there's a conversation I didn't get to finish that haunts me

because I felt like out the gate I was rejected by a person I thought would accept me, never as a partner, simply as two people walking the same path - just as we always were

quick to pull a trigger on me because of who I am, but completely ignorant of where I came from

I'm a cis guy who had no trouble wearing things meant for women I'm a cis guy who always hated his body for different reasons I'm a cis guy who wanted to be like the people weren't afraid to be who they wanted to be

for a moment I thought I knew what kind of person I wanted to be

I thought if I talked higher, chose kindness, gave my support to whoever needed it, never put myself above anyone, and walked on my own path to improvement, I could be that person, a Cute Person

but their answer was to "wear accessories and cuff my sleeves"

it wasn't about Being cuter I had to Look cuter to be cute

in this body that can't be cute

so how did I want that conversation to finish?

it's that that Author could have been like me - stuck in the box of someone straight and playing by the rules of their part, but as age and experience piled on, the appeal of other genders started to weigh in. the realization that I've always been open to anyone.

I wasn't "stuck in a closet". I always went in and out as I pleased.

and slowly, the world became a walk-in. I was in communities where it was so much more vibrant. I wanted to join in. I wanted out of the usual box.

but my body wouldn't let me. my hair, my shoulders, my voice, my junk all of these things made me different from the person I wanted to be and made me the same as the dime a dozen as the communities became more open openly hating men openly sexualizing each other openly demoralizing and openly preferring this white-washed skinny-only purity that turns my stomach

it's like I've lost my thirst for people the moment I started questioning my gender was the moment I started worrying about what people thought I'd call myself asexual but my track record doesn't prove it I'd call myself pansexual but my track record doesn't prove it

I can't prove it I know I shouldn't have to but there's this box I can't escape what's it gonna take? do I have to transition? do I have to show off a gay relationship?

I don't want to be a thirsty trans girl I don't want to be a man-hating woman I don't want to be a stereotypical gay

I want to be me. I want to be gay. I want to be friends with everyone. I want nothing to do with anyone else's junk. I still want to be cute. I want to do cute things. I want to be hugged. I want to play. I want to make cool stories. I want people to like my stories.

I want to be me without this body. I want you to know me by my words and actions and tales, not what I look and sound like.

that person and I were very similar people. but the people around them defined how what box they put me in. and it just felt so unfair.

I'm gay too. I want a different gender too. I wanted what you could do and what you could have and I wanted to be alongside you. but it was painfully clear that I couldn't fit into your box and you had no interest in seeing what was actually in mine it's not my body or my voice or my face it's my dreams and the pictures in my head that I want to share

the disembodied me is the me I prefer and I want to share it so badly

[lizardbytheriver]

Why aren't Democrats focusing on bigotry and atrocities committed by Non-White People? Because we are living in a country run primarily by White People. Because we are living in a country run historically by White People. Because we are living in a country created by White People (who used enslaved labor). Because we are living in a country that still has Systemic Racism at its very core. Because we are living in a country where White Nationalist Movements are growing and endangering people. Because we are living in the economic powerhouse of the world. You have to clean your own home, before you can ever think about criticizing the homes of others. White Bigotry can tell us a lot about other bigotries (In-Groups and Out-Group Dynamics, Dehumanization, a "Right to Conquest", etc.). White Bigotry can tell us a lot about Humans and Humanity. And White Bigotry feeds into other Bigotries like Xenophobia, Transphobia, Anti-Semitism, and Islamophobia. Islamophobia is largely about hatred of Black People and Brown People. Its no mistake that Islamophobia is so rampant in the primarily White West (Europe, Canada, USA, etc.), while most Muslims are Middle Eastern and African. Islamophobia impacts Sikhs, despite Sikhs not being Muslim. But many Sikhs are People of Colour. Anti-Semitism had people calling White Jewish Folks "not true White People". Transphobia (and what makes a Woman a "true Woman" & a Man a "True Man") often stems from White Western Patriarchal Values. That is why TERFs keep calling Cis Women "Men". That is why "transvestigations" exist. That is why Black Cis Athletes are forced to change their hormones and are still kicked out of competing. Xenophobia feeds heavily on White Supremacy. The idea these non-white invaders are primitive and evil. The idea these non-white invaders are going to rape White Women. Meanwhile, us White Folks are "civilized and treat White Women with respect". These ideas are just Racism and White Bigotry. So much current hatred and bigotry in the World stems from White Supremacy and White Nationalism. The idea that White Bigotry is a footnote is laughable. White People are still going around killing People of Colour. Whether it was Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, etc. To imply that we should not focus on the current problems today or how we got here... is laughable. Nazi Germany was due to White People and White Identity. And Nazi Germany got ideas from the North American genocide of Indigenous People. To imply both are so miniscule. Both are just an "anti-white narrative". It is ridiculous. We need to talk about White Bigotry, White Identity, White Nationalism, and White Supremacy. Because so many recent crimes and recent problems are happening because of these evil ideas. This is an ongoing, existing problem. The history and consequences of these ideas/actions are still impacting millions of lives. There is a reason we have to talk about this, especially a reason why White People have to talk about this. When we have reemergences of Nazism within the USA, we have to talk about what's going on and how we got here. And to try to diminish the harm these ideas are causing, saying its just such a small part of the whole picture, is helping no one. It is only encouraging people to make false equivalents and to focus their attention on Non-White People. So you can say, "Look! They did bad stuff too! It does not matter if White People genocided them or exploited them. They were not perfect victims." By ignoring and diminishing White Evil and White Crimes, you are not helping anyone. At best, you are trying to make White People not feel sad. At worst, you are doing genocide apologia. And in general, you are just ignoring current widespread problems that have a long and bloody history.

[royalberryriku]

As a transgender person, the way the media talks about Jews and Palestinians since October 7th really rubs me the wrong way.

I don't know if I'm wording this very well, I'm really emotional over how these methods being used against people like me and have been used against so many marginalised communities are being used again. I know I sound like some conspiracy theorist but the truth is that history shows a long list of evidence pointing towards the west being at fault for this and for starting this colonial hate filled bullshit.

But yeah.

So, when I i get shit for being trans, it's often because people assume my existence threatens someone else's, said people who, by the way, they turn around and give shit when they think we don't realise. Cis lesbians, for example. We will get shit for calling non transgender people the word for being non transgender "cis", but said people who get angry will ignore cisgender men who corrective rape lesbians and then also advocate for the rights of lesbians to be taken away on a state and federal level.

What really sticks out to me is how the media talks about antisemetism exactly to the same extent they talk about lesbiphobia; whenever it suits an agenda while ignoring the actual issues that actually affect Jews. All the while, blaming another minority for their own bullshit. White supremacy has been perpetuated by white nationalists who often appropriate nordic symbols and say they are superior for their nordic bloodlines. Which is also total bullshit, but they seem to believe it enough to call for the death of Jews, deface graves and shoot up synagogues. Yet, when far right extremists online are given a platform or make stories with obvious dog whistles, the media say absolutely nothing. The only time the media seems to suddenly "care" is when it's to target another minority.

As a trans guy who really likes knowing about history, let me tell you a very damning observation of mine; lesbians and gays get treated worse the more trans people are legislated against, because it's means rolling back rights for other minorities. It means starting a process that targets more and more "undesirables".

The Nazis used the exact same frame work and the western leaders at the time applauded him for it. And yes, they still use the exact same methods. We know that once one group are dehumanised, it's only a matter of time before the next group are targeted immediately afterwards. So when I say "when they're through with Palestinians, Jews are next on the list" that's not hyperbole.

I'm not saying Israelis are victims either, the is a huge issue of indoctrinated far right metrology and idealism that stems from colonial European bullshit passed on. I am however saying that, in the west's mins, when Palestinians are out of the picture, who else do you think would be next in line so that the west gain more land? Who else is "in the way"? Who else do white nationalists despise? We've seen how this shit is done; how hate is methodically done.

"Hamas are terrorists and hide amongst civilians" have to considered that this narrative was born because Hamas were civilians who were targeted and bombed before October 7th? No, I'm not saying this justifies anything, but if you can recognise at least that it was by law self defence, then you can realise that Israel's actions are, by law, terrorism since before last year and every year since 1948.

So, when you Pro Zionist/ Pro Israel people come on here and try to claim that "Hamas are terrorists and anyone pro Palestine is antisemetic" please know that you're repeating the same exact narrative created by white nationalists that is supposed to isolate you and make you easier for THEM to kill. You're next, not by arabic people or brown skinned people but by white nationalists who are cheering at the fact that Islamophobia is on the rise and that antisemetism will rise with it because hate gives way to hate, as it always has. And those who profit will pretend to be sheep while waiting for a chance to kill you, that's how historically the far right have operated and are operating amidst this. It's a red flag and we need to stop ignoring it.

First they came for socialists, the communists, the Romani, the Jews. History repeats when we ignore how this shit works; it doesn't start and end with one group. So yes, from a historical perspective, if you're not pro Palestine, you're anti Jew; you're going on the side that wants both of these nationalities gone. I know that's an strong statement, but when I look at history and I look at now? I see a very clear picture of how methodically the guillotine is being raised, one by one, until there are no Semites left, Arab or Jew. And isolating each other is how the far right have always done this exact thing. So remember the real enemy for fucks sake; and it's isn't Palestinians who are at fault for existing, the ones doing this are the ones cheering at the death and profiting off of it. It's always been the west, not those who want to live with equal rights and resist violance done to them.

You want to end antisemetism? Start by protecting EVERY SINGLE Semite. Palestinians must be free for Jews to thrive, trans rights just be upheld to protect the rights of us all, and every single human life must be valued.

[estrel]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

[badoccultadvice]

Once upon a time my former roommate was seduced by a hypnotist who claimed to be from an alternate reality nuclear dystopia.

Back around 2014 I lived with a single white cis woman who was striving to slowly edit herself into the platonic ideal of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and we'll call her Pixie because of that. As for her seducer... (I'm not TRYING to make it sound skeezy, but I can't call him a boyfriend because they constantly swore up and down that they weren't dating each other.)

He was a real can of worms, let's call him Tom since he literally thought that sometimes he became a secret agent that was doing Impossible Missions for the government. He would show us Tom Cruise movies as a form of... biography. Also, yes, he claimed to have hopped over from an alternate dimension where Washington DC was nuked. Sadly, he never told us what geopolitical situation caused this to happen, so I guess he didn't jump sideways in reality to actually prevent anything.

Look, I know it sounds bizarre but Tom was a real guy and he had a quirk of telling me out of nowhere that he was in my sink, and every time he'd say 'sink,' he'd look at me expectantly like something was supposed to happen to me. He also told me that I would notice it every time I took a drink of water and that I would end up drinking it according to his prompts once enough time had gone by. He once tried to use eye mesmerism on me in a hotel room to get me to channel a demon he wanted to talk to that night.

These are things a hypnotist can do. And Tom was a hypnotist. Tom was also crazy. And Pixie was crazy for his goddamn dick.

I didn't ever really get the penis factor. I guess Tom had one that was worth putting up with his bullshit and ignoring his beer gut. Pixie had become more and more inscrutable to me over the years of rooming together and I could not understand her taste in men at all--it was almost just one Tom after another, except Tom was the only man she'd gone out with that was from an alternate nuclear dimension.

You may wonder why Pixie believed Tom, and why I was hanging out with either of them, and IF I believed Tom. I was Tom agnostic back then, actually. I was always waiting for proof of Tom's divinity, but inevitably, none would appear. Living with Pixie (a situation that would grow untenable by 2015) had already inured me to the crazy--Tom was at least human. Our previous roommate had been an elf. (I don't really know from which reality. Probably none.) Living with Pixie was a life experiment, it felt like, and adding the Tom variable in was creating a lot of data.

Okay yeah, so I was there munching popcorn and watching Pixie's train slowly wreck until she finally moved out of my house. Sue me. But how did she get seduced by a hypnotist?

Well, Pixie was absolutely convinced that she had a twin flame. A soulmate created alongside her soul before her physical incarnation, a match for her in every way. I knew this because she'd introduced me to him twice before she ever met Tom. The first time was a boyfriend that ended up lasting three months, and the second time was a husband that ended up lasting three-ish years.

After she met Tom, she introduced her 'soulmate' to me a third time. One thing that Pixie's 'soulmate' always had was entrancing eyes that she felt she could just fall into. So the hypnotism seduction thing with Tom sorta wrote itself. He was fine with her thinking that he was his soulmate, because he was convinced that she was capable of reaching "level one" -- a place in which there would be no separation between Tom and Pixie. And I know this sounds absolutely, completely unpredictable, but the ritual to get to level one was sex.

The ritual was sex without blinking, actually, which I assumed was because Tom wasn't much for stamina. But you have to understand--via this ritual Tom was going to create a new dimension where he controlled the reality and Pixie could rule as his goddess alongside him, so it was important that they get it right.

So where did this all end up? Well, I kicked Pixie out of my house before she and Tom managed to fuck a new Narnia into existence, but I heard she eventually wised up and split up with him. The last time I saw Tom, he was trying to hypnotize a supermarket attendant to pay attention to him.

It was not super effective.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Amidst the Snow Covered Mountains

Summary: You had always believed that after the death of your lover, you would forever wear your red robes as penance for a promise you failed to keep. Your heart had died with him and your time would forever remain frozen. And then Tartaglia arrived in your life, like a sun that melted the snow.

Rating: G

A/N: Heavily inspired by Mo Dao Zu Shi and Tian Guan Ci Fu.

The cold air of Snezhnaya was colder than the air atop the mountain peaks in Jueyun Karst. But the years you’ve spent in service of the Fatui made you acclimated to the cold air that nipped at your nose. Your clothes, a fusion of Snezhnaya and Liyue fashion, were magically enhanced to keep your body in perfect temperature regardless of climate. The fox fur that lined the hems of your sleeves and robes added a regal air to your already noble nature. It made you more aloof and unapproachable compared to the other Harbingers, adding upon your age that was closer to the Tsaritsa’s, not even most of your fellow Harbingers dared to speak informally with you.

Of course, you weren’t spared from the scheming and backstabbing but they were more likely to do it politely or without any crassness. The exception to all of this was Tartaglia, the newly inducted 12th Harbinger. He was a human born to be a warrior, the battlefield was his home and you made no secret of your admiration for his skills.

It was perhaps the reason why he often followed you around like a tail, not that you cared, the human was talkative and yet he was undeniably a genius in fighting. He was also frustratingly obsessed with fighting you despite never winning in any spar, though you appreciated his offers, he brought no challenge to you.

“...Tartaglia, don’t you have to drill your men?” You asked him, your robes immaculate while his were dirtied from the ground and your pyro vision.

Your forehead ribbon fluttered in the cold wind as you remained standing in front of Tartaglia’s collapsed body.

“Columbina,” He panted “at this point you should be offering to help me stand up!”

You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips at hearing him whine. 

“Wait! Did you just smile?”

You ignored his question in favor of walking away, “Stand up, It’s dinner time.”

“Wait for me! Archons, why are you so keen on keeping a regular schedule!” Tartaglia whined as he got up and ran after you, arms slung on your shoulder as both of you walked through Snezhnaya’s eternal winter.

Snezhnaya was colder than the place you used to call home but it with Tartaglia beside you, chattering senselessly in your ear, warmed you better than Fú Shě’s presence.

--

Your existence as an Adeptus, a former Yaksha, was never a secret among the Fatui. It was merely something that no one mentioned to your face, it was acknowledged but never talked about. It meant that Tartaglia asking you about it had thrown you off guard. Strong enough that your usual impassive face had shown emotion.

“Do they discriminate against you for being a Yaksha?!” Tartaglia asked, indignant over an imagined slight.

Something warmth unfurls in your chest but you are quick to dismiss it in favor of grabbing Tartaglia’s collar and stopping him from marching out of your home and into the Palace.

“No. I was just surprised that you’d ask about my past” You replied, voice deceptively calm.

Once Tartaglia returned to his seat, you did the same and took a sip from your honey lemon tea. It had been years since you last thought of your past, the home you left behind and the everything you once held dear. The steam of the tea curls around in the air, the soft muffled sounds of the city filling the silent room of your living area.

You take another sip and began telling your story, “ I used to be part of a Yaksha clan, we were contracted to Rex Lapis for the purpose of quelling the lingering hatred of Liyue’s fallen gods…”

“I was the younger sibling of one of the Foremost Yaksha, thus there were expectations of me rising up to his prestige,” You smiled fondly at the memories, unaware of the sadness that lingered in your eyes “Despite that neither I nor my brother felt any bitterness towards each other. Though I am in his shadows, I know my own worth. My talent lies not in slaughter but in helping them gain peace.”

“As a Yaksha, I travelled around Liyue, village to village, quelling grudges upon grudges. There were times I would cross paths with other Yakshas, sometimes we fought together, sometimes each other. But all of it was for fulfilling our duty,” You took another sip of tea, exhaling as your mind easily drew up the memories you’ve hidden.

You told him, skirting around some details, about your past and how it led you to Snezhnaya. You talked and talked, offering him bits and pieces of a past that left a festering wound in your heart. It was an odd feeling, for someone like you who preferred to be silent, to be talking for so long.

But it was hard not to, not when Tartaglia looked at you with eyes that brightened at your tales, from your battles to your previous mundane life. Eventually the conversation drifted away from your past and to Liyue’s culture and traditions, you answered every question Tartaglia had. From the serious ones to the silly ones, letting him see the Liyue from your memories.

“One of your clan’s specialty was music cultivation,” You revealed to him as your hand absentmindedly fed him cookies, a muscle memory from the past “My brother played the dizi though he preferred to use a sword to fight.”

“And you?”

“A guqin.”

Tartaglia hums, voice soft and inquisitive. You wait for his question.

“Columbina, if I learn to play a dizi, would you play with me?” He asked, almost shy and it makes your heart feel something between pain and comfort.

“Mn.”

Tartaglia’s presence in your life becomes more apparent after that day. And annoyingly, it takes Pulcinella pointing it out for you to notice.

“Tartaglia hasn’t been bothering you, has he?” Pulcinella asked, voice deceptively uncaring.

You blinked at him, the only evidence of your confusion at his question. You knew that for all of Pulcinella’s claims to have no lingering affection for Tartaglia, it was a well-hidden lie. He had after all raised that child, even if it was across the battlefield.

“No.” 

You left, pace unhurried and face emotionless. The weight of Pulcinella’s stare on your back is heavy but you didn’t care for it. You had a scheduled spar with Tartaglia, and you knew he was more bearable if he got beaten up. 

Your arrival in the sparring grounds designated for you and Tartaglia is marked with the sudden silence and loss of familiarity among the lower ranks. It was amusing seeing him momentarily at loss until he turns around and smiles at you, bright and welcoming that it almost makes you falter in your steps. It has been a long time since your presence has been greeted like that.

“Have you warmed up?” You asked as your loyal left hand comes over and takes away your outer robe and gently drapes it over her arms.

Your forehead ribbon flutters in the cold wind, your sword steady in your hand as you stood a few paces away from Tartaglia. It was a clear declaration of challenge, one you would not have done if you had remained within the confines of your clan, if your brother had not left you alone.

But Tartaglia inspires change, he is a breath of fresh air, and when he smiled at you, sharp and just as excited, it makes your blood rush. Reminiscent of the bright summer days in Liyue that you spent with your clan and fellow Yakshas. Bold and carefree.

Tartaglia was an excellent fighter, one that would only grow stronger as time goes by and though he poses no challenge to you right now. He is still a force to be reckoned with, his moves does not allow you to loosen your guard. To fight in the same ease as you would when faced with other Harbingers or the monsters that littered Teyvat. Tartaglia fights with everything that he has, gives his all in every battle he finds himself in.

He is born to be a warrior and you respect that. So you do the same, you treat every spar as if you were up against old gods, curses given to life. You fight seriously and with everything you have because Tartaglia was worth it. He deserves nothing less.

In the end, it ends as it always does. Tartaglia on the ground, your sword at his throat. Your forehead ribbon, immaculate, and your robes free of dirt and yet you could tell that he had gotten stronger, from the slow and unnoticeable labored breathing of your body.

“Yield.”

Tartaglia smiles and in a split second you dodge a hydro aimed at your throat, eyes widening at his new attack that you don’t notice how the hydro dagger had loosened your forehead ribbon until it falls right before your eyes.

‘Your forehead ribbon,’ Your father explains, voice soft and firm but no less loving, ‘can only be removed by your spouse.’

What falls to the ground isn’t the familiar white of your clan’s clothes. It had been thousand of years since you last wore the white robes of your clan. 

‘You wear white all year round! There’s nothing to mourn and yet you act like there is!’ His voice, playful and whining, ‘When we get married are you going to wear white as well?’

The memories come unbidden to your mind. Unpleasant and painful. You could only stare in horror as the red ribbon dropped to the ground, it was the highest quality of silk, golden threads forming the shape of qingxin where clouds used to be. 

“Columbina?”

You leave in a flutter of red robes, forehead ribbon tightly gripped in your hand as you try to escape from the memories you’ve buried deep. You are no longer part of your clan, in name and genealogy, but still you follow its rules and tradition. It was deeply ingrained in you, down to your marrow, that to do so felt odd.Though you have gone lax as the years go by, there were still some rules you strictly adhered to. The forehead ribbon would always be one of them. Though the meaning had changed it was in essence still the same.

‘The forehead ribbons symbolizes our restraint. It is the symbol of our commitment to be free from worldly desires’ Your father explained as he tied your forehead ribbon, ‘It means that though we have forsaken all, it is them we chose not to.’

You stand, a top of Snezhnaya’s frozen mountain, inside a cave you’ve built for seclusion. There are no paths leading to it, only accessible to those like you or the Cryo Archon you worked for. You meditate on the floor, hand still tightly gripping the forehead ribbon.

You think of him, the gentle blue of his robes and his eyes that yearned for strong opponents. You think of the silent promise you made when you left your clan, struck out your name from the genealogy and bowed before Rex Lapis in acknowledgement of your actions.

White for mourning.

Red for a promise left unfulfilled.

You meditate and think of your past actions, refusing to call them wrongs, because you had only ever sought to follow your clan’s principles to the best of your heart. And to stay true to your beloved, to stand on their side, and protect them was no wrong.

--

“It’s been a long time since I heard you play your zither” she greets as she steps into your cave, easily by passing your seals, and stopping right in front of you.

You don’t stop playing the ever familiar notes of Inquiry, absent of any spiritual energy. She sat herself on the stool by the side, listening and waiting for you to finish your song. 

“Has it?” You asked as you put away your guqin, carefully setting it aside on a table specifically made for it.

“Yes. It’s been years since you last played a song on Sīzhuī.”

You tried to recollect your memories, giving her thoughts the consideration it deserved and you found that she was right. It had been years since you last played Inquiry, your last memory of playing it was the night before Tartaglia’s arrival in the Palace, under Pulcinella’s tutelage.

“It seems so” You finally answered, before moving away from your instrument and opting to serve her tea. If only to calm your shaken heart.

“Tartaglia was worried” she spoke as if recounting a normal tale, “enough that he had personally asked me for your whereabouts.”

You say nothing as you wait for the water to boil.

“He looked like he was about to cryー”

You level her a look that clearly states your disbelief and she laughs, continues her words, “or maybe terrorize the local wildlife of Snezhnaya’s mountains to find you.”

That you can agree with. Tartaglia had always been the sort to figure things out before letting his emotions run through him. You appreciated that part of him, and can rely on him when your understanding of people falls short.

“Why?”

“He found out the meaning of your forehead ribbon, and from what I’ve heard you were positively stricken with grief when it came undone.”

It wasn’t a lie but still you felt uneasy at the way she said. As if she knew the exact memory that filled your mind when you saw it come undone and yet her words felt like it had underlying meanings.

“Come out of seclusion and pacify him. He’s stalking down my hallways and I like my palace calm and quiet.” 

You looked at her, “If you truly did, you would have not accepted Tartaglia.”

She smiled at you and said nothing. A silent acknowledgement of a shared fondness for a Harbinger that wrought chaos in his wake. She leaves your cave after securing a promise of coming down after a few more days of meditation.

You watch her leave and think of how despite no longer loving her people, she still cared for them deep within the festering wounds of her heart.

--

Your return is marked with a bright day absent of the usual snowfall. Your red robes are immaculate, forehead ribbon tied perfectly tight on your head, your sword in hand. You walk the familiar halls of Zapolyarny Palace with your held high and back straight. 

Your ribbon flutters in the air as you walk, your long hair swaying in tandem. Your feet takes you to Tartaglia’s wing, to his office where you knew he would be at this time of the day. Dealing with paperwork he loathes but still does because he was a responsible leader for all of the chaos he wreaks.

You knock thrice, and step back on hearing the crash and dash of feet heading towards the door. The thought of your knock being distinct to him makes your chest feel warm.

“You’re back!” Tartaglia cries out as he throws away decorum to hug you in the middle of the hallway. Uncaring of who might hear him or see his action.

You offer no response beyond hugging him. Your hand on his back, patting his much taller form and simply letting him seek whatever it was that he found in you.

“I’m sorry” Tartaglia says, voice soft, in the privacy of his office. 

Years ago you would not have forgiven anyone who dared to do what he had done. Years ago you would have been struck with anger and grief but the years spent away from Liyue had healed your wounded heart, time had lessened the pain you felt from his departure and Tartaglia had softened you in ways you were only beginning to realize.

“No need” You told him, as he laid his head on your lap, face curled up on your stomach.

Years ago, you would not have dared to act so close to anyone in this way. Years ago, the only person who could make you show your heart easily had left. Now, it was easy to allow yourself a simple show of affection towards Tartaglia. A delicate dance of things unsaid and actions speaking louder.

The sight of Tartaglia’s hair against the red of your robes was an image that you wouldn’t forget so easily. You think of the Tsaritsa’s words, of Tartaglia almost crying and you can believe it, in the way he curls his hand on your robes like a child hating to part ways.

You gently card your fingers through his hair, thinking deeply, of what all of this meant. His head on your lap, your hand in his hair, this intimacy that settles well in your bones, the unspoken trust he held for you from the first day he arrived in the palace. The change from that battle-crazy teen to the young man that was a finely honed weapon of war that stood as your equal.

“I was afraid you know,” Tartaglia looked at you through his long lashes “that you’d end up hating me or leaving forever.”

You said nothing.

“There were records─of you and your past─nothing substantial but enough if one knew the ins and outs of the story” Tartaglia’s hand curled tightly on your robes, crinkling it in his tight grasp, “I didn’t know.”

“No one did” You replied.

And it was the truth. No one knew how much you cared for that bright eyed human who feared no one. Not even you knew the lengths you would have gone for him, not until you’ve slaughtered your way towards him in a vain attempt to save him.

No one until Tartaglia had been able to piece the missing pieces. To learn the truth behind the red of your robes and the deep scars on your back. It felt like a weight off your shoulders. To be known without speaking the painful truths, putting into words what had transpired that day in Nantianmen. 

“I’ll be more careful when sparring with you.”

“No need.”

You looked into his eyes, “You’re most beautiful when untamed.”

The red that bloomed in his face was your favorite shade of red.

--

From that moment onwards, it was rare to see you without Tartaglia right next to your side. It meant that the two of you were always sent out together across the seven nations with the exception of Liyue. Tartaglia left stories in his wake, about his battle prowess, and adding more to his myths in Snezhnaya.

With him by your side, few people paid attention to you. As it should, Tartaglia was meant to shine brightly, eclipsing the entire room with his presence. Despite that, you made your way into his tales, stories speculating, judging, your relationship with him.

“Lovers” the bards from Mondstadt claim.

“Sworn brothers” the story tellers from Liyue insist.

“Soulmates” the poets from Fontaine declared.

“Aibou” the rakugo masters from Inazuma tell.

“Taw'am roHi” the scholars from Sumeru assert.

“Iyakiciyuha” Natlan’s storytellers announce.

“Rodstvennuyu dushu” Snezhnayan minstrels whisper.

The speculations didn’t bother you as much as what it could do to your relationship with Tartaglia. You cared for him, considered him as a friend and a reliable ally. You wouldn’t want this fragile sort of intimacy between the two of you to be tarnished by 

For all of your supposed aloofness, you cared deeply for him and in extension everything related to him. It meant that his opinion mattered.

“Does it bother you?” Tartaglia had asked, eyes uncharacteristically serious, as he sat on your bed.

You paused and then replied, “It would if it affected us the way we are right now.”

“I see.”

And that was the end of it. Nothing changed, Tartaglia stuck to you like glue and you remained at his side, partnering with him to minimize the fall out of his chaos, fighting with him side by side until both of you could effortlessly fight together in battle like one mind in two bodies.

Tartaglia spent more time in your room during missions until it was more sensible to room together during work trips if only to avoid wasting money for a room that was mostly unused. Then it bled to your private life where Tartaglia opted to spend his time in your home on short holidays rather than travel back to Morepesok.

Which led to meeting some of his siblings, the youngest three had taken a shine to you. It was odd and fascinating to see three young look-alikes of Tartaglia, calling him Ajax. It was even more fascinating seeing him blunder about, desperately trying to hide his real job from his siblings and his former name from you.

You drive their attention away by mentioning your gifts and Tartaglia offers you a grateful smile. The siblings spent time in your home, making a mess out of it and you laugh Tartaglia’s worries away.

“It makes this place look lived in” You told him just as Anton abandons Sīzhuī in favor of your drums.

Tartaglia said nothing to that, only staring at you in a way that you can’t quite understand. But as quickly as you caught his look, it disappeared just as well with Teucer barreling to your legs.

The rest of his siblings visit descend into mayhem, a welcome one, there are demands for toys and adventures, and you grant all of it. You have been in service of the Tsaritsa for a long time and barely had any worldly desires to be able to make a dent on your savings. You are arguably the richest Harbinger alive. Spending your dusty money for a child’s happiness was worth it.

Tartaglia’s grateful smile was worth it.

The warm feeling in your heart that takes days to dissipate after their departure was worth it.

Tartaglia permanently living with you was worth it. 

--

“Our clan loves deeply,” Your father once said, voice somber and looking at a painting of a mother you’ve never met “almost like a curse.”

You didn’t understand until the day came when you changed your white robes for red ones.

--

Tartaglia was a complex character. A human who keeps you on your toes and leaves you wanting more and more until it becomes impossible to keep yourself away from worldly desires. Five thousand nine hundred and eighty six years of cultivation practice that abstains from worldly desires went down the drain when you met him.

You didn’t even know.

Tolerance gave way to fondness.

Fondness to love.

You didn’t know when your time started moving forward again, when remembering no longer brought pain and sorrow. By the time you noticed it, it was too late.

You could no longer escape from it, no path of retreat left, not when his touch brings you warmth. Not when he looks at you so softly, so fond with his bright blue eyes that it feels too much. Not when his absence feels like a loss of limb, not when necessity dictates a separation.

There is no other word for this.

And so, you play Sīzhuī in the night and meditate.

Love is a curse and Tartaglia only deserves the blessings of the world.

--

Tartaglia, Ajax as he was called back then, remembers growing up hearing the stories about an Adeptus in Snezhnaya, it was the talk of the town and every adult knew the story that was passed down.

The adeptus, male, with red robes that was too thin for Snezhnaya’s climate showed up with the Tsaritsa. His hair was inky black and flowed like silk, his eyes were gold if it was melted, his skin was perfect. Tartaglia remembered the stories that his father told him about you, your fights that left a mark in Snezhnaya’s history, strategies that had every scholar from Sumeru debating endlessly on its merits and demerits, but what remained deeply etched in his heart and memory was a story only known to their family.

You had saved his father, once in his youth as an adventurer, there was an avalanche and his father had resigned himself to death. Only to be saved at the last minute by you. You had came in, standing on your sword, red robes fluttering in the wind as you scooped his father up and away from the path of the avalanche and into safety.

No words were exchanged.

You left just as quickly as you came. Back straight and hair fluttering in the wind, very much like the noble heroes depicted in Liyue’s literature.

And Ajax had wanted that, had dreamt of fighting with you side by side as an equal, and then dreamt of you. His fall to the abyss did nothing to dampen that desire, it only served to fuel him further, his ambition becoming a tangled mess of wanting adventures, getting stronger and at the heart of it all you.

He’s thrown into the Fatui and then he meets you. 

Every story told about you describes you in the same way, a handsome adeptus who wore red clothes and a forehead ribbon with golden qingxin embroidered in it. The thing is no one mentioned the weight of your stare, to have molten gold eyes to look at you from above and make you feel as if you were lowly.

It was what Ajax felt when he had arrived in the Palace, what Tartaglia felt when he became a Harbinger.

It doesn’t curb down his desire though. It only spurred him on, made him want to have myths and legends created about him, to match the ones you’ve left in the annals of history, until his name, his title becomes synonymous with yours.

The thing is nothing was as good as the real deal. Everyone told him about your golden words, how you rarely speak unless absolutely necessary, how you were cold and aloof and the thing is they are so so wrong.

There is nothing aloof or cold about you.

Your words are golden but Tartaglia can hear your unspoken words from the curve of your lips to the small frown of your face and even the glint of your eyes.

And it thrills him.

To know you in such a way that no one ever would. The entire world can have your myths and legends but Tartaglia? He would have you, the realest version of you that has preferences and quirks and gets drunk so easily that it leaves his heart gasping and insides twisting from the sheer amount of fondness you evoke from him.

He loves you, from the start, he thinks.

And then the forehead ribbon happened and for the first time Tartaglia was at loss, hurt and fearful and definitely bloodthirsty. The grief and shock in your eyes, the visible pain when you saw your ribbon at the ground had him panicking.

The win felt bitter in his tongue, as he watched your red robes flutter away with each quick step you took away from him. He stared dumbly at your retreating back and regrets. Your disappearance feels like years when in reality it was months but still Tartaglia wreaks enough chaos and havoc in his wake that had the Tsaritsa calling him back and then receives the story.

It wasn’t a complete one but it was enough.

It takes several trips to Snezhnaya’s mountains and a couple of manmade avalanches before the Tsaritsa takes one look at him and orders him to stay in his office until your return. And Tartaglia does his best to not look like a child sent to be grounded but it was hard, even his dedication to his duty could not stand to his desire to fly to your side and remain there but he relents.

And only when Pulcinella had revealed that no human would be able to access your cave because it was on top of Snezhnaya’s tallest mountain.

So he resigned himself to waiting. He resigned himself to whatever it was you would do once you returned, resigned himself to lose you because Tartaglia is many things but he was never one to hurt his loved ones.

And then as always you overturn his expectations, you welcome him, you forgive him and then you make him fall for you all over again and Tartaglia resents you a little bit for it.

(It was a lie, he could never bring himself to resent you.)

The change started from there, he tests the waters, gauging how much you can take before you drew a line before him. He stands too close to you, hands on your waist or any other body part, sleeps in your room during away missions more often than not until the two of you begin sharing a room then a bed. You don’t care about the rumors, the speculations, you love his siblings and Tartaglia could see a future with you.

And then Liyue happens.

-- 

It goes like this, you are assigned to oversee the operation in Liyue and Tartaglia is to take the Gnosis. He reports his findings to you and you give him leads.

He follows and eventually befriends the funeral parlor consultant. Then he learns about you. Snippets of a history written in blood and separation of lovers, and between father and son. Just as you’ve left your traces in Snezhnaya’s history, you’ve left your touch in Liyue’s tea houses.

And it leaves a bitter taste of jealousy in Tartaglia’s mouth.

He thinks of your guqin, named Sīzhuī, meaning to remember. 

He thinks of your new red robes sans the fur, your red forehead ribbon. 

“The adeptus had loved the mortal man enough to slaughter his way through 100 clan elders to save a single mortal who walked away from the path of righteousness.” 

He thinks of everything you gave up for one man and Tartaglia wants that for himself.

And yet he does nothing about it. Instead he devotes himself to the mission, enjoys the time between preparing for his next move and doing his day job at the bank with spending it with either you or Zhongli. He doesn’t ask you about the little details in your life during your tenure as an Adeptus.

He doesn’t ask the questions he wants.

Because above all, Tartaglia had always respected you so he waits until you can tell him everything. In the end, it takes a fight between the two of you before it happens.

--

“I don’t want to involve the weak.” 

“...I’ll draft up another plan then.”

--

Any other person would have been hurt by the lies, the deception, and the manipulation. Tartaglia isn’t any other person.

He is rational and meticulous when it comes to his job as a Harbinger, and he recognizes this event as part of it. It chafes at him but ultimately he can carry on with this blight in his reputation. And that was the thing, it was supposed to be blight in his, not yours.

Not the romanticized hero Liyue made you out to be, not the upright and honorable Harbinger you are.

Tartaglia can take it. He can afford being used as a scapegoat, can weather out his role as a villain in Liyue’s history. He cannot, will not, however allow your reputation to be tarnished.

He rages, he schemes, he makes a scene but all of it is for nothing. Not when it's your scheme he is up against, not when you were so determined to make yourself a villain in this story. And for the first time, Tartaglia saw how big the gap between the two of you were. He thinks three steps ahead and you think ten.

He is no match at all and it burns him. Enough so that Zhongli had noticed and commented on it,

“Is it not better this way for you?”

“Xiansheng,” Tartaglia bites out “I’d rather not have them suffer at all.”

And it was the truth. Tartaglia would rather have his name drag through the mud than let you experience the scorn of the people you once sought to protect. 

Zhongli gives him a considering look and Tartaglia does his best to settle his agitation, to be calm as you once instructed him. Eventually Zhongli speaks,

“It is their good fortune to have met you in this lifetime” He takes a sip of his tea, staring into the cup, “Have you considered the reason behind their action?”

Tartaglia thinks of the stories of the romance between you and your former almost husband. The 100 lashes that left a deep scar on your back, your eventual departure from your clan and the service of Rex Lapis. He thinks of the shape of your love and it leaves him reeling.

He leaves a mora pouch on the table and makes his way to you, to your side and he wants to beg for forgiveness, to demand you to stop because Tartaglia does not require your sacrifice.

He just wants you.

--

Years ago, you resigned yourself to never step foot in this place. Accepted that perhaps Liyue would never be your home from the moment everything you held dear slipped through your fingers.

But Fate was a funny thing.

Here you stood in the ancestral hall, sitting before your Father and Mother’s stone tablet. Staring blankly at the curling smoke of the incense with a heavy heart filled with regrets.

Your cousin sits beside you, the clan leader after your departure and Fú Shě’s eventual ascension.

“Uncle regretted it.”

“Mn.”

“The night before he died, he called me in his room. I wasn’t born yet when you left or when tang ge disappeared but I grew up hearing stories of you.”

You gave her a sad smile.

She laughs it off, a rare personality among your reticent clansmen, it was a welcome one, “You were somewhere between a cautionary tale and someone to look up to. The clan elders said that your love was the perfect example of what it means to love deeply and what it means to suffer for it.”

You watch her twiddle her thumbs, exhale and continue on, “Uncle told me that if one day you returned, he wanted you to be written back to the clan genealogy. He regretted punishing you for what you did. That he made it seem like you had to leave with nothing on you except your savings.”

“We are cultivators, I would have survived nonetheless with my meager savings.”

“You shouldn’t have” She insists, and their is righteousness in her eyes, in her conduct, in her bones, that empathizes with the people “I can’t condone you for killing 100 of our clan elders but I can understand why you did what you have to do.”

You smiled at her, feeling the knot in your heart disappear. Because this was what you had wanted back then, when faced with the option to uphold your duty or abandon your beloved. You just wanted to be understood for your actions, to not be painted in any other light beyond loving someone deeply. There was no righteousness or depravity.

There was only you seeing your beloved suffering persecution and wanting to save them.

“Thank you.”

She smiles at you and just like that years of grievances are put to rest. There is no father, no mother, or brother to return to but your heart is at ease and free of suffering. You look at your cousin, the clan leader, and asked her,

“What should I call you?”

She smiled and answered, “Birth name Xīnjiān, courtesy name Zhīyuàn.”

“Xīnjiān to have a strong heart, and Zhīyuàn to know peace” You showed your appreciation for her name, praising it, “This clearly shows your parents' wishes for you. To have a heart that never wavers and to always be at peace.”

You look up to your parents' stone tablet, at your brother’s mini statue and silently bid them farewell and an apology. To your cousin you say, “The clan is in good hands, with you at the helm even the disappearance of Rex Lapis would not hinder the clan's future.”

This time you leave your clan home, not with a barely healed back, a broken heart and grim determination. Instead you step out of the gate with your back straight and head held high, your robes are still red, your forehead ribbon still bearing the golden qingxin.

You are welcome to return but you knew deep in your heart that your home lies elsewhere. There was no need to have your tarnished reputation to blacken your clan’s doors.

You slowly walk your way down, the golden gingko leaves falling as the winds rustle the branches. You think of your past, the choices you made and the choices you will make. Despite the uncertainty of what the future holds your footsteps are light as you walk down the thousand steps of your former home.

“Our clan loves deeply,” Your father once said, voice somber and looking at a painting of a mother you’ve never met “almost like a curse.”

And then he turned to you with a smile, equal parts sad and happy, “but with the right person it is a blessing.”

“Bàbà, what do you mean?”

“It means that with the right person our love would not cause suffering either to us or to our spouse.”

Tartaglia stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up to you, and then he ran up the stairs meeting you halfway and closing the gap between the two of you.

You understood then what your father had meant, that day in his study.

--

At the end of it all, Tartaglia asks the one question he had always feared,

“Do you still love him?”

You clutch his hand tight and answered, “Always. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you either.”

Tartaglia doesn’t speak.

“I’ll always love him, but it isn’t the same way as it was then. I used to think that I’d never be able to love again, that my time had stopped when they died,” You’re too afraid to look at Tartaglia so you settle your sights on the scenery in front of you “and then I met you. Without realizing it, my time started moving forward and this heart of mine started beating again.”

You smiled and intertwined his fingers with yours, hands tightly clasped together as if fearing separation.

“To have met you, in the lowest point of my life, is my greatest fortune.” 

And it was the truth. You didn’t know what you would have done if Tartaglia hadn’t appeared in your life that day. If he hadn’t pestered you.

He pulls you back to him and you let yourself be pulled, crashing into his chest.

“I love you” He declares “I want to spend everyday with you, crossing swords with you, I want to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night.”

He lifts your face, hand gently holding it and stares deep into your golden eyes and bares his heart out for you, “I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for me, I just want you.”

You looked at him with astonishment, your face burning bright red from his admission.

“Columbina, back then I’ve always wanted to sleep with you!”

The two of you stood at the other end of the terrace occupied by Zhongli and the Traveler. You could bear to look at him, not when your head felt light and your heart felt like it could fly up any moment. Not when it felt like you can ascend right now from the sheer happiness of Tartaglia loving you back.

“I’ve never been in love before. I-I know that I can’t compare to him but for me it has only ever been you! I love you, I fancy you, I cherish you! I want you more than I want to dominate the world! I can’t live without you!”

“...”

Tartaglia took your hand and placed it on his chest, above his heart, “You told me once, if I can’t tell by the face then listen to the heart. Then listen to mine. I want to do it with you every day. This isn’t just me joking or a momentary fancy. I just love you so much that I want to sleep with you, I can’t feel this way towards anyone else but you!”

Through his warm chest, and rough fabric of his uniform, you felt the rapid beating of his heart.

“Columbina, I want to do everything with you, you can do anything to me and I’d accept it as long as you’re willing!”

“...willing…” You mumbled, head bent and hair covering the sides of your face.

“That’s right! I’m willing to accept anything you do to me!”

You stepped closer to him, curling up in his arms and Tartaglia saw the red tip of your ears and slowly, ever so slowly it dawned on him as you spoke clearly with a slight tremble in your voice,

“I am willing.” 

You smiled, soft and small that one would almost think they were seeing things but they weren’t. Even as an adeptus you had rarely smiled, few people over the course of your life had seen you smile. They could even be counted on one hand.

But today, Tartaglia saw you smile like a glaze lily that was unfurling its petals at night.

Zhongli, the Traveler, Paimon, and countless others who were looking your way were stunned into silence. No one expected to see you smile after Osial’s release, and the Qixing’s announcement.

【Folklore】

There is a famous statue of lovers in Liyue and Snezhnaya, two immortals facing each other, one holding a forehead ribbon on his hand and the other holding the other immortal’s hand on his.

The two statues depicted Tartaglia the Warrior, and Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn. It is said that worshiping one statue alone would bring misfortune. Don’t believe it? Then rub the forehead ribbon on Tartaglia’s hand, kowtow three times to Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn and then propose to your lover only to get turned down.

Or buy a lottery ticket, rub Tartaglia’s hand and then wait for the results only to miss out on the jackpot. Therefore, if one wasn’t particular in worshipping the two it was better to stay away from them and just show your respects from afar.

However, if you were to worship them both together, offer them a cup of nuptial wine then a miracle would happen. The two would expel each other’s misfortune and bring forth twice the fortune.

Legends say that the reason for this was that the two immortals had loved each other deeply, Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn was said to be willingly sacrifice himself for Tartaglia, and Tartaglia was said to be unwilling in letting his beloved suffer. Therefore, to worship one over the other was to deny their deep love for the other, conversely to worship both together was to acknowledge their deep love for each other.

Therefore regardless of station in life, many would come to worship Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn and Tartaglia together, but most common among them were lovers and people who were heartbroken. This was because it was well-known, most especially in Snezhnaya and Liyue, that the two were fated to each other.

It was the reason why the common depiction of the two was facing each other, ten fingers clasped together with Hǎiān Xuězhù Zhēnjūn red forehead ribbon intertwined in between their fingers.

[elenyafinwe]

CN TERFs, radfems, transmisia, genitals, sex

What I find so sad about rafems is the fact that they actually have a point, but then ... decent into TERF-dom. Because yes, feminism has to be radical, is has to be loud and aggressive to give a voice to the marginalized people around the globe. We need a loud, unmistakable feminism. But we need it in the form of intersectional feminism and not whatever shit radfems are doing.

I make a bold assumption: Most radfems are white cis women, and those are among the most privileged people, literally ony surpassed by white cis men. You have to understand that privilege is not a binary, you are not either privileged or marginalized. Reality is that you can be privileged in one aspect (i.e. skin colour) and marginalized in another (i.e. gender) and everything in between.

Trans women are women but at the same time get denied privileges cis women have precisely because of TERFs. They demonise trans women, frame them as predators and stealing rooms for women. But where do belong trans women then if not into rooms meant for women?* TERFs claim, that every man now can clam he’s a women and invade saferooms for women, while at the same time ignore statistics that proof that trans women are also vicitms of male violence as other groups. And who says cis women can’t be perpetrators themselves? Women are not inherently less violent than men, two X chromosomes doesn’t make you magically a peaceful creature.

And then there are all the other genderqueer people out there who also get ridiculed by TERFs. I got called ugly simply because I’m nonbinary. I got called woman, after I said I’m nb, which is as violent as being slapped in the face. Assholes insisted that I’m mentally ill (nicely said, they used different words) because I use neo pronouns. Some people even got as far as saying that no one wants to see my mico penis and that was the point where I simply laughed out loud. Because c’mon, how lost do you have to be to put that in my mentions simply because I have neo pronouns in my bio???

TERFs are obsessed with genitals, but claim that trans people are perpetrators violating safe rooms. Who is the creep here? Not me, that’s for sure.

TERFs shout out that no one want to sleep with trans people because *insert a lot of nasty shit here*, but it has never occured to them, that trans people also don’t want to sleep with them simply because they are very nasty persons. I at least would never sleep with a person I detest. Would you?

TERFs ignore science. TERFs ignore that it’s long prooved that there aren’t only XX and XY chromosomes. TERFs ignore anything that doesn’t fit in their narrow world view and demonise it without being provoced. Some people simply want to exist and they attack them for simply existing. Isn’t that utterly disgusting?

TL;DR: Radical feminism isn’t per se bad, because we need loud feminism. But we need it in the form of intersectional feminism. But then TERFs happened and ruined everything.

*And where belong other genderqueer people? My German bubble therefore uses FLINTA for safe rooms of any kind. F(Frauen, women), L(esbians), I(nter), N(onbinary), T(rans), A(gender). I haven’t seen a similar acronym in English speaking corners.

[pokesplendor]

rosa’s team from sword as gijinka! info about them beneath the cut.

Ella - Cinderace - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 21

Ella is full of joy and life, she’s smiles and cheer, she’s happy to be here! A young soccer pro drafted into League battling for her fiery passion and clear leadership potential. She has a natural charisma about her that brings people together and execute plans correctly, as evidenced by her time on the field. She stayed briefly in the Champion’s guard, where she met Graves as a Sobble, and the two became friends, despite being from different walks of life. That’s Ella for you, making friends wherever she goes, and that is a pervasive fact through her journey for the league. Of course, she never expected to have to face down a God like Eternatus, but she didn’t let that stop her.

Besides soccer, she’s passionate about cooking and loves to fire up the stove with curry! She’s all about that curry! She’s also always down for some pre-dinner stretching, some pre-dinner fighting, just a little brawling here or there. She never thought she’d be so into competitive battle, but there’s something intoxicating about it she can’t resist. She feels like she can make friends through an exchange of fists!

Ella just loves making friends, exchanging numbers, becoming pen pals, it’s all so fun! She didn’t expect to find those she considers her family through her journey but here she is! Thomasin is her best pal, she might even consider her a sister! And where would she be without Connie, she’s been there the longest. Sometimes she steals Connie’s hand to hold, and other times, she steals her lips.

Connie - Sandaconda - they/she - queer Mexican-Japanese - nonbinary woman - age 30

Connie is a sleepy individual. They’re always in a bit of a haze, like they just didn’t get enough sleep, or maybe they got too much sleep and they can’t snap out of it. They just love naps! Is that such a problem? Their manager certainly seemed to think so. Connie is an accomplished model who would often sneak off to the wilderness to camp for a few days at a time to get away from the busy city. This is how they met Ella and were swept into a gym challenge. They didn’t expect to like it, but you know, if you have to be awake, they don't mind giving a deserving individual a good bop. Their striking gaze sent shivers down the enemies spine, assisting a great deal in a tough spot.

As stated, Connie is a model, and being a model means you have a lot of responsibilities that you can completely ignore and run off at the drop of a hat to do whatever you please. Their manager is not too fond of them, but they can’t find it in their heart to care. They do care about the fashion they have to wear, it’s been their dream job since they were little to wear the fanciest clothes you can. They’re good at their job, they’re good at looking pretty in nice clothes, and that’s how they keep it.

They love the friends they’ve made along the way, Thomasin is always stubbornly trying to knock them off balance and prove herself superior, but it’s all good fun. And they quite enjoys Sybil’s attempts at music. And Minerva and Ella’s combined efforts to produce excellent cooking! Oh, Ella, she’s a darling, isn’t she. Connie is smitten with her, that’s for sure.

Matilda - Hatterene - she/they - lesbian Japanese - nonbinary - age 27

Matilda is a witch from the swampy areas in the Glimmwood Tangle. She would happily live there for the rest of her life and not interact with other people if necessary, but she unfortunately happened to leave the safety of her bog for family reasons (if she had a choice she never would have, but ugh, relatives), and during that time, ran into Ella and the gang, who excitedly recruited her to their great quest across the land. At first, she only intended to be along for the ride back to the Glimmwood Tangle, but for reasons she’d never admit to, she stuck around.

She is a calm, collected individual, keeping her emotions in check constantly and disgusted by those who freely express themselves for the world to be known. Little known to others, her emotions bubble beneath the surface, and if pushed too far, they boil over and she gets extremely overwhelmed and unable to control herself. Not that she lets that happen ever (often). She mostly deals in potions of various uses, and magics that stir nature in a pot to boil much like her emotions.

Matilda isn’t looking for anyone to date, she isn’t looking for friends, she isn’t looking for anyone at all. Especially men. Stereotypical mean man-hating lesbian right here. She’d never admit she has feelings for Ella (the feeling is friendship) and wishes Sybil will just leave her alone (she gets flustered.)

Sybil - Toxicitry - she/her - bi White - trans woman - age 20

Look out, here’s team baby! And she’s loud, she’s proud, she’s here to rock and roll! And, oh, that didn’t rhyme, did it? She’s working on that, she swears. From a family of successful doctors and midwives, she had big dreams to get out of babysitting newborns, and get out there and get her voice heard! She wants to rock people’s faces off with her awesome guitar solos! Granted, she’s not that good at guitar, she’s better on base, and she’s not the best at singing, but she swears she has sick lyrics. When Ella’s group stopped at her family’s nursery, she could tell there was greatness on its way up, and she figured she could ride it to success!

Sybil can be very explosive about her interests, launching into long spirals of talking, one topic to the next, she can’t control herself. She’s autistic and she just wants you to know! Things she likes! That’s not bad, right? She never stops to ask if they want her to stop, she really can let it get away from her. It’s fine though, her new group of friends are so supportive! More than her family had been, she’d even venture to call this new group more family than she’d known.

She gets along real well with Ella, the two can be seen playing ball or sparring at any given time, gotta keep up with them gains! And when running into Graves’ group, she’s in talks with Thrasher to start a band together! And then there’s Matilda, she once witnessed her emotions boil over and it was so cute she just has to see it again. Sybil can be a little menace.

Minerva - Appletun - she/they - lesbian White - trans woman - age 45

Minerva certainly isn’t old enough to be considered a grandma, but she is, actually, a grandma. She’s got a few kids from back in the day before she transitioned, and those kids had a few more kids, and here she is, grandmother at a young age. What this means to say is she’s definitely team mom when it comes to Ella’s group. She’s surrounded by children nearly the age of her own, and someone’s got to mother them! She ran into the group when they were visiting the nursery with her newest grandchild, and what was a small agreement to help with the upcoming gym turned into an adventure she didn’t expect! She never traveled when she was younger and found she loved it.

She also loved the kids that came along with it. She loved feeding them especially. Ella was a little prodigy with food, and Minerva just wanted to feed that flame and love of food. Minerva loves food, she’s a cook by trade and she loves filling a meal with love. Other than that, she collects old books, out of print editions, and keeps them in her sturdy little home up by Circhester. She was content being alone for so long, long distant contact with her children, she didn’t expect to need company.

But that company she definitely had. She found an old soul resonating with her in Iosefka, the two oldest of the group, the old Frosmoth always seemed to have just the right ingredients for her stews. Something stewed between the two of them, there’s for sure. She also enjoyed running into Graves’ group and meeting Grevious, a fellow designated mom.

Iosefka - Frosmoth - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 48

Iosefka was but a simple traveling merchant. She’d seen all shades of Galar over the years, seeing it’s darkest underbelly, to its brightest sun shining peaks, and she loves her home region with all her heart despite knowing there’s some people that it would be better without. But she’s not one to comment on that, not unless asked, after all, she’s just an unassuming merchant here to stock you up for the road and not give her opinion, heavens no! So wasn’t it so surprising that she was absolutely swept up from her solitary traveling live into Ella’s little group, something about the little girl was just so charming, she wanted to see where her journey took her.

She loves collecting the rarest of the rare, the sweetest of delicacies, there’s nothing better than traveling to a little unknown spot to get the hardest to find ingredients growing where you might not expect them, and roll into town and being overwhelmed with the local restaurants vying for her samples. She’s not opposed to finding shiny things as well, but something about food, it entices her. She loves providing for a good meal. She’s a bit of a shit cook though.

Iosefka isn’t exactly guarded with her feelings, but she’s not open either; it comes with being a merchant, she gets her feelings across in a sly sort of way. But she’s found a family with Ella’s group, a place she doesn’t have to hide her blunt rudeness. And in traveling, found new love with Minerva. The two are quite a pair of old gays.

Thomasin - Dubwool - she/her - lesbian Black - cis woman - age 23

The first to be recruited to the great quest across Galar in hopes of taking the Championship title, Thomasin is exactly what you’d expect of the league battler. She trained for years hoping to get picked up by someone in the circuit and show off her skills. She’s always down to fight and dominate in the field, and prove her worth. Not that her worth needed to be proven to Ella, who was happy to accept someone so eager. Even happier to call her a friend! Thomasin felt kinship with her right away and the two set off with pure confidence. She didn’t shy away from a League fight, and she certainly didn’t show fear when facing down a god.

Outside of battling, she (secretly) is a dedicated poet and songstress. She can’t sing, but she loves writing music and ballads, about grand adventures of pirates, and heaty thrists between ever gallant knights and fair princesses in the midst of complicated politics. She’s been working on her magnum opus for quite some time, an epic combining all her favorite things to write about… in that it’s still a work in progress. She’s got the characters, the world, she just doesn’t know how they fit together!

Thomasin and Ella are nearly inseparable, they’re always running around, full of energy and love and they can tumble down in the grass covered in stains and laughing without a problem. She lets Sybil in on their love, the three youngest getting along swell. And she won’t lie, she is slightly interested in Maverick from Graves’ team. (She just might have a thing for knights.)

[the-amber-droid-dreams]

wait so not aggressive or trying to start a full blown debate here but in regards to your last post, what is an mspec lesbian? i've also heard the term thrown around in twitter discourse and the like but still have no clue wtf it is if you could explain in like,, very simplified terms i'd really appreciate that

ofc anon ! always happy to help

this post is usually my go to for definitions, resources, exclu talking points, and history but ill try to expand a bit on those definitions here with my own experiences to help along and make it more understandable

(its gonna be a long post though sorry, its kinda hard to make it short while also making it as understandable as possible !)

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oh and quick note : mspec stands for multi attraction spectrum aka labels like bi, pan, omni, etc. NOT for male spectrum

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Split attraction

Yk how ace ppl arent always aro ? Thats called split attraction, and its not just an ace thing. Some ppl are for example homoromantic bisexual or panromantic homosexual and might call themselves mspec lesbians. Personally, im romantically attracted to all genders but sexually attracted to only women !

Mspec lesbian is easier, quicker, and more comfortable to say than the whole "mspecromantic homosexual". Plus barely anyone calls themself a homosexual anymore unless its a joke or theyre a "homosexual female" terf which is,,, yuck

Huge preference towards women

Some ppl like multiple genders but their attraction towards men is so rare that theyre functionally a lesbian

The only time i was ever attracted to a man (in a non comphet way) was a purely romantic crush at 14

I dont want to completely ignore that side of me, bc i Am mspec and i do have the potential to be attracted to all genders, but at the end of the day, my attraction to women is much more frequent and important to me

Calling myself a lesbian just makes sense to me. It communicates what i want it to which is "i like women"

Im not sure ill ever like a man again, so calling myself just mspec feels a bit strange to say the least nor does it communicate what i want

Calling myself both mspec And a lesbian is like saying "i like women !! ,,,and maybe more" which is the most accurate and true to myself

Liking multiple genders that dont include men / Liking women and nonbis

"But nonbis are included in lesbianism !!" and youd be right to say that ! However, not all nonbis are comfortable being put under the lesbian label

Also, lots of ppl seem to define lesbianism as "attraction to women and nonmen" which is,,, not a great definition and just creates a new binary

Nonbis come in a million different flavors and not all of them fit in the "non men" category. What abt transmascs, genderfluid ppl who are sometimes men, and mutligender ppl who are part men ? Are they included in lesbianism ? If not, what do you call someone whos attracted to women and all nonbis but not binary men ?

For a lot of people, the answer to those questions is mspec lesbianism

Reclamation of historical definition

Lesbian didnt always mean exclusive attraction to women. It was used a lot more like sapphic is today. However, this changed with the rise of political lesbianism and lesbian seperatism

Political lesbianism is a political theory that was spearheaded by cis white lesbian terfs in the 60s and 70s, such as Sheila Jeffreys. Its the idea that sexuality is a choice, and that women should choose to be lesbians to free themselves from the patriarchy. It considered lesbians to be ideologically superior to wlm

Lesbian seperatism is a severe form of political lesbiansnism, and is the idea that women should have little to no contact with men at all

This hurt a lot of ppl including mspec women (for liking men), trans women (for being amab) and woc (for working with men of color towards liberation)

It was gross all around and mspecs were pushed out of their own communities. After all that and stonewall, we started getting more bi exlusive groups and orgs which is really wonderful ! Still, some ppl werent too happy and chose to call themselves lesbians or bi lesbians regardless

The trend of reclamation has been ongoing since then and theres tons of historical examples

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theres some other definitions like fluid attraction and questioning between mspec and lesbian but i think those cover the main ones !

if you have any questions, or would like me to clear anything up dont hesitate to ask :]

[hiriajuu-suffering]

Objectification is never the correct response

I think the biggest trend I see in modern misandry is [hyperfeminists] mask it well by doing something misogyny has been doing for at least a century, yet no ever calls it out for what it is. A straight, cis woman will be still be welcomed into a misandrist environment with open arms even though she likes men, because the only compliments she'll pay to men are vapid and shallow. A misandrist will say: we can't value a man for the quality of his character or his personality, that's absurd! When it's the same mentality which entrenches, validates, and reifies toxic masculinity the most. Even more so, this is especially worse in minority communities: white women will at least ignore and slander to #YesAllMen much more equitably than minority women, who agree when prompted but make clear preferences for toxic masculinity in their dating lives. If we, as a society, are ever going to begin to work on dismantling the patriarchy, we have to stop using what the biggest means to preserve patriarchal norms is: objectification of others.

A woman objectifying a man is not empowering, it's demoralizing. The reason why we might interpret it as empowering is because we've evolved to have a positive attitude towards language reclamation, but personhood is just not the same as words themselves, unless we say a person is only made of value by the words they produce...which is ableist in its own right. Imploring the same methods the patriarchy uses doesn't somehow undo it, it makes those methods stronger, because, at the heart of objectification, is otherization, depersonalization, and seeing another as less than what you value yourself as. That's what it means to look down on others, that's how the patriarchy stays preserved: it looks down on all genders by forcing them into social roles or expectations they never willfully took on.

The problem with this take is it always devolves into personal attacks. Oh, the reason why you think male objectification is bad is because you've never been on the positive end of it, most men appreciate being complimented. Most men see it as a complement because femininity starves them of positive reinforcement to begin with, so our esteem needs are begging for scraps. The men complimented by objectification are the ones that value their body over any other part of the self, the same as women who enjoy or even relish in being catcalled, neither of which we should be encouraging. Don't get me wrong, the premise of the personal attack is true, but it's not for the reason one would assume: even the most normatively ugly men can still be "positively" objectified under good circumstances. I'm ugly on the basis of the internalized racism femininity carries towards its objectification: placing white men at the top and Asian, particularly South Asian, men at the bottom. We're assumed to be the least endowed, least able, least competent men physically, and it shows by the way we're treated. This, however, is yet another symptom of patriarchy since we tend to be far more aware of the feminine racial hierarchy of normative attractiveness than the masculine one, because misogyny sucks but casual misandry is fun and entertaining, men don't have the right to be happy! Slave away for us in the postindustrial capitalistic hellscape sculpted around patriarchal norms while the women figure out what parts of it we advocate to keep around because it benefits us.

That's the issue with what hyperfeminist standards do, any benefit to the feminine-oriented party doesn't necessarily mean it will aid in dismantling the patriarchy. Advancing the position of women in society, as a sole end, doesn't advance the long-term goal of dismantling the patriarchy inherently or necessarily. Is there a correlation? Undeniably. Is it constructive to beat the masculine down until every man has to apologize for his existence just to functionally seek out companionship? No, but that's what's happening anyways.

The entire month of August, I was grappling with this existential issue. Is there even a way one can convey this message without being a misogynist? Well, for those who don't grasp or even want to engage with nuance, no, which is why this message wouldn't make sense on Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, or TikTok. How did the month of August close out with a standard amoral group of people who had no interest in forming lasting human connection outside of shared activity? Well, they're trying to get me cancelled for questionable but legal decisions I made on blind optimism, so there's that. The joys of being an independent thinker, having incurred the wrath of a hyperfeminist given some level of arbitrary authority over our social group and eventually prodding me over the edge to either stand my ground or be emasculated. I got really sick of being emasculated as the elder of that group, let me tell ya. I use a term my people are still in the process of reclaiming against her, and she's more offended by it than I ever would allowed to be. How does oppression work again? Just went straight over the children's heads. A lot of it had more to do with a very apparent racial superiority complex and fetishization which was problematic in its own right, but stupid people never seem to grasp how their own actions could be problematic or prejudiced. Every time I am put in a position in which I am making a dubious choice, I am in full awareness. This group: blinders. The entire glue of the group is a defamation/libel/slander lawsuit waiting to happen, I guess I'm just a witness that might need to be absolved if it comes down to it. I should never underestimate a hyperfeminist's capacity to be petty though, so hopefully no one gives the fools the platform they need for real social power because they'd never be deserving of it. Yet, this is the same world that grants Andrew Tate and Vic Manyana social power, so I can't be too hopeful about justice in the world.

Bottom line is, treating men as objects is no less problematic than treating women as objects. There's obviously nuance and room to debate here, something lots of people don't seem to grasp in an argument and the reason why even the most intelligent people will make absurdist claims, but not acknowledging someone's perspective as legitimate is a discredit of their humanity. The opinion itself shouldn't actually be that controversial to feminists that advocate for gender equity, but the facts stand too many self-identified feminists haven't believed in anything resembling equality/equity for some time. Genuine feminism never needs to come at the expense of men. I want to identify with a feminist movement, I truly to do: I believe in the foundational principles of feminism and I always think it will have a place so long as any part of our society will have a misogynistic element.

When the mantra of trending feminism becomes gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss unironically, as it has: it should tell anyone conscientious enough to realize the masculine-hating direction we're going in isn't one that will do anything to remedy any real harms of patriarchy. It simply increases depersonalization and a lack of human connection happening across gender lines. If we're approaching a generation which socially only sees its men as capitalistic objects, incel culture will only grow...not self-correct. Still in awe how gen z is managing to bungle this worse than millennials have.

[fanonical]

I really don’t see how JK Rowling is a terf. I mean, acknowledging that biological sex exists doesn’t invalidate trans people. In fact it completely validates them, as their experience and journey as trans people is based on the fact that they identify as different than their biological sex. (1/2)

Also, I think it’s completely fair to point out that biological women and trans women have different experiences. Sure there are a lot of parallels, but you can’t deny that growing up as a biological girl is different than growing up as a biological boy (and trans girl obviously). I would be happy to get a reply and discuss. (2/2)

answering this on the off chance it’s asked in good faith (which it definitely isn’t)

1. the word is “cis” not biological. there is no such thing as “biological womanhood”

2. if you agree there are usually somewhat notable differences between people with XX chromosomes and XY chromosomes (which trans people overwhelmingly believe, as well) then why would you think that believing sex = male/female (and a fundamental part of the whole world’s existence) would validate us? based on your opinions suggested here, there’s some obvious cognitive dissonance — you say trans people are valid but sex is real and somewhat immutable, but that trans people “identify” as another sex — if sex is immutable then how can trans people “identify” as another? you’re spouting literal terf rhetoric. the sex binary doesn’t help trans people at all.

3. trans people believe in “sex” we just overwhelmingly believe it is different to how Rowling and other terfs assert it to be. this belief is backed up by actual biologists who study sex. it isn’t fourth grade science class any more, buddy

4. being trans has very little to do with one’s sex but rather our assigned gender — which is different.

5. suggesting there is “one true biological femalehood” that all cis women experience that trans women growing up being perceived as boys/men don’t experience is not only transphobic, it’s completely ignorant of the multitude of experiences of womanhood. womanhood is perceived and treated differently in different cultures around the world; rich white women are going to have vastly different experiences with poor black women in womanhood; straight women and lesbians (see: Butch and Femme gender identities); even women from England vs women from the States. implying womanhood has ONE defining trait that makes trans women unable to experience it suggests these aren’t the major factors of womanhood — variables that change based on culture and surrounding. it’s pseudosociological nonsense.

6. even if everything else you were saying were true, Rowling has likened trans women using women’s bathrooms as “foxes pretending to be chickens to get in the henhouse” and said, downright, that trans people do not experience bigotry or oppression. she has also called for rights to be stripped from trans minors. she is a transphobe. she is openly transphobic. she follows terfs; she is followed by terfs; she associates herself with terfs.

any more asks akin to this will not be given the same benefit of the doubt and will be instantly blocked.