Happy Transgender Visibility Day!!
In celebration of my fellow tbeings now being visible, here’s a list of every character in Soul Journey that is trans!
Ione / Meta Knight (Non-Binary)
Dark Meta Knight (Non-Binary)
Galacta (Bigender)
Mirror Galacta (Genderfluid)
Bandana Dee (Transmasculine)
Sailor Dee (Transfeminine)
Kirby (Transmasculine Agender)
Shadow Kirby (Transmasculine Agender)
Auberon (Transmasculine)
Blade Knight (Transmasculine)
Nightmare (Transmasculine) (yes he gets included here. He’s a trans K:SJ character, so he’s on the list.)
Inifya (Agender)
Mirror Inifya (Agender)
Aralor (Non-Binary)
Morpho Knight (Non-Binary)
Ophanim / Morpho EX (Xenogender)
Flamberge (Non-Binary)
Zan Pertizanne (Genderqueer)
Void (Agender)
Taranza (Non-Binary)
Artemis (Xenogender)
…And a few others, but I’m not really awake enough to remember all their names.
Anyway! Be trans! Be weird about it! Go crazy!
~Mod Bugthing, resident xenogender 🏳️⚧️
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[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled "immortality” after the poem by clare harner (more popularly known as “do not stand at my grave and weep”). the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]
a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”
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god I fuckign love ocs. my characters. my friend's characters. the characters of mutuals ive never spoken to. the characters of artists ive followed and maybe spoken to a little more. the characters of complete strangers I see in passing and think "aw that's cool". if you have ten fans I am one if you have one fan it is me etc etc. I love you
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Simon has always been confused on why you gift him toys. Sure, most of the gifts you gave him were some of the things he liked. Bourbon, masks, gloves, make up for him to smudge his eyes with, some daggers and knives. Things that we're useful for him, just him. But later, you gifted him a toy airplane. He makes a comment about it, saying he is not a child anymore and you were better off giving it to Johnny instead.
"No, this is specifically for you, take it."
When he gets to him room, he walks toward his trash can, opening it with the tip of his boot. He gives one more look at the toy, his mood souring before throwing it into the trash. He goes on about his day, training, signing paper work, drills. Doing anything to ignore the pain stinging memories that the toy brought back. Emotions that were buried thousands of feet deep it could reach hell itself. Later, he lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, avoiding looking at the cylinder shape that's calling for him in his peripheral.
Fuck.
He pulls the covers off vigorously and stomps over to the trash can. He is standing over it like he's trying to intimidate it, as if it was an enemy he's trying to get rid of in battle. To anyone else, the scene would look comical.
He sighs to himself and reaches down to take out the toy he so cruelly threw away. He sets it on his desk and quickly walks toward his bed, facing away from his desk.
The next day, he wakes up feeling different. He swears he sees his room more vibrant, more lively. That energy follows him through out the day, having his other teammates notice his rather bright mood.
You catch him in the hallway. Pulling him aside to ask him about the paper work you left at his desk this morning. Of course, he notices the way you smile brightly, more so than usual. But he notices that you're not looking at him. More like looking at something next to him.
"What's got you so cheery?"
You turn to look up at him, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"I just..." You take a quick glance at the spot next to him, before bringing your eyes back upon his.
"I just hope you liked your gift." The same bright smile appearing on your face.
He stares at you, examining your words. Your expression.
You think you see his eyes crinkle a bit.
"Yea,"
"I liked it."
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I’m thinking about Mahito’s great great uncle maintaining and preserving a peaceful and beautiful thing in a way that to an outside observer looks tedious and unimportant, hoping to pass the duty off to a successor but ultimately he cannot find one and dies with it.
I’m thinking about the specificity of the blocks being made and handled with care, not with malice or ill intent.
I’m thinking about Hayao Miyazaki, a bastion of beautiful 2d hand drawn animation who refuses to retire.
I’m thinking about a world where animation is so rarely made with love over profit and efficiency.
I’m thinking about how, though the old man didn’t see it, the next generation still hangs onto a piece of that beautiful, tedious thing and takes it with them because it feels important.
I’m thinking about Mahito being told he should forget, but no. He shouldn’t.
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