#after that the only gendering description terms are feminine
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Elden Ring Tabletop RPG Fan Translation
But only for Varré :)! It adds so much to the dynamic between the tarnished and varré 😳 I can't believe this is official.
jpn to eng translation is thanks to my friend, I edited for wording/ clarity
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Leaning against the church wall, Varré seemed to be humming some tune. The PC could see that he was in a very good mood.
"Ahh, my lambkin. You've completed your final trial. Uhuhu… The oath cloth has been dyed a beautiful red!"
Taking the crimson cloth from the PC and laying his eyes upon it, the white mask radiated joy, as if he was a young girl in love.
Keep reading for the entire quest line:
Elden Ring Official TRPG - Varré
[B009 - Rose Church]
There was an island nestled in the lake, and atop it stood a church adorned with blooming roses. In this desolate place, the vivid red of the roses left a lasting impression.
<EVENT: Varré ①>
There was a church known as the Rose Church. As the name suggests, the vicinity of the church was adorned with deep red roses, as if they had absorbed the very essence of blood.
"Oh, Tarnished, are we? Come to the Lands Between for the Elden Ring? Of course you have. No shame in it. However, there is one shining ray of hope even for the maidenless like you. Me. Varré."
The man wore a white mask and stood near the church wall, before approaching the PC. Varré spoke.
"And it seems you trotted to the Roundtable Hold... My sincerest congratulations. But, how did you find the Roundtable? Oh, you don't have to say it. Before, the Roundtable was chock full of venerated warriors, but now, it's home to puff-chests and has-beens. I fear you've been terribly disappointed. I don't blame you. But still, the Roundtable has its perks. Why not earn a seat? Fly straight and true, so to speak."
He spoke in a provocative manner.
However, despite his degradation of the Round Table members, there was an air of confidence in his words.
"No, that was a foolish question. You have already defeated the Grafted King and claimed a Great Rune. And also, you had your audience with the Two Fingers at the Roundtable Hold. They are the purported masters of the grace that guides your kind, the Tarnished. That's why you should pay them a visit and see for yourself."
Since he was wearing a mask, it was impossible to know his facial expression while he spoke, yet he was remarkably talkative.
"So, I'd like to ask you. You saw the Two Fingers. What was your impression? Were they magnificent? Or did you feel something is not right?"
Varré went around and around, but it seems that this is what he really wanted to ask.
What response will the PC give? Depending on their answer, it may determine the path the PC will take from here on. They should carefully consider their response. Will they affirm the Two Fingers or deny them?
(→ "They were magnificent.")
If the PC answers like this, Varré, with an obviously displeased voice, says, "I see. Well, what a relief that must be. You may go, then. My work here is done. May the wisdom of the two fingers guide you." And went away, disappointed. ((Event Ends))
(→ "They didn't seem right")
"Ah-ha, your intuition serves you well."
Upon hearing those words from the PC, Varré came closer with a delighted expression.
"Actually, I feel the same way. The words of the Two Fingers cannot be trusted. Truly, naught but rambling, senile delusions."
The man with the white mask passionately speaks, criticizing the Two Fingers.
"I believe that, when the Elden Ring was shattered, the Two Fingers were corrupted, their guidance; skewed. Even worse, the Fingers harbor no love for our kind. That's the part that irks the most."
Varré expresses his thoughts with somewhat dramatic gestures. After speaking for a while, Varré spins and turns towards the PC, handing them something.
"Oh, I have a gift for you, something fit for only the wise."
It was a creepy, blood-stained finger. As the PC tries to shake it off, Varré gently encloses the PC's palm with both hands.
[Obtained : Festering Bloody Finger]
"This is a means for circumventing the draw of the Two Fingers. Give it a try, won't you? Oh, and I suggest starting by venturing into the Forest Path (A011), where the guidance begins. That is a place where other Tarnished like you will appear. And if it pleases you, may we meet again. I've high hopes for you. My lambkin."
With those final words, Varré sees the PC off.
—
[A011 - Forest Path(The first sight of grace), Limgrave]
<EVENT: Varré ②>
Even though it was just a short while ago that PC arrived at the Lands Between, it felt more like they had been here for ages.
Varré said they should come here, but …
As the PC looks around, they sense an ominous aura coming from their inventory. They hastily take out that finger. As expected, the "Festering Bloody Finger", given to them by Varré, starts oozing red.
Upon closer inspection, the finger is darkly congested, bearing marks as if it had been cut off. While not entirely certain, the PC starts to feel that if they keep holding onto this finger, they will somehow invade the world of its owner.
What will the PC do?
If they immediately throw away the finger, perhaps everything will be fine. But, if PC has an impulse to KILL someone, the red glow actually feels somewhat pleasant.
Depending on their choice, it may determine the path the PC will take from now on. They should carefully consider their actions.
(→Throw away the fingers)
The PC hurriedly throws away the Festering Bloody Finger. As a result, the impulse gradually subsides into calm. They can no longer bear touching the festering finger[a], and decide to leave the scene. ((Event Ends))
(→Follow the urge)
The crimson impulse grows stronger and starts spreading from the finger and into the PC's palm, permeating the entire body. They then fall into a momentary blackout. When they regain consciousness, they find themselves in a recognizable place, identical to before the event.
They realize that a thirst for violence is coursing through their entire body. In the embodiment of that urge, the PC takes on the form of a red spiritual entity. Their sole purpose is to kill the owner of this finger and rob them of their grace.
There is a person stepping back, watching the PC reveling in the surging desire to kill. It is likely the Tarnished who arrived in this land not long ago—like how the PC was before.
Now, let's take out that weapon and slate your thirst for violence in that newcomer. Take everything he’s got.
〔Simple Battle: The Stout Tarnished〕
After successfully defeating the newcomer Tarnished, continue reading.
Upon killing the newcomer Tarnished, the PC found themselves back in their original world, nearly unaware of their own return.
"Oh, lambkin, so pleased to see you're enjoying the gift. Ah, I knew from the very start. You have a taste for noble blood."
White Mask Varré was there, approaching while clapping his hands, visibly happy.
"I wish to anoint you a proper inductee. A knight to serve Luminary Mohg, the Lord of Blood, and establish a new dynasty. Luminary Mohg has strength, vision, and of course, love. So, what do you say, my lambkin?"
The blood-soaked PC, who had already killed the newcomer, would not reject such a suggestion. They pledge to become a knight, to Varré.
"Huhuhuhu, yes, indeed. Now, take this."
Varré said, handing the PC a length of beautiful, pure white cloth.
[Obtained : Lord of Blood's Favor]
"This is your final trial. Soak the cloth with a maiden's blood. Normally, this ritual would involve killing one's own maiden, and recanting the wisdom of the Two Fingers. ...But since you are maidenless, the blood of anyone's maiden will do."
The PC recalls the memory of the finger maidens. Was there someone like that close by?
They have to search for her. It is the trial to become the knight of the Lord of Blood.
"By the way... I remember that there was a woman with the potential to be a maiden, on a hill facing the lake(B012). If you don't know any other maidens, she would suffice, don't you think?"
As Varré spoke, he went away. 'When you are ready, please come back to the Rose Church again.' And left those words.
—
[B012 - Lake-Facing Cliffs]
<EVENT: Varré ③>
As Varré had suggested, the PC hurried to the cliff facing the lake. There, they found a girl they had seen somewhere before.
"Hello? Is someone there? My name is Hyetta, and I'm journeying in search of the distant light. If I might be so bold as to ask... would you donate any Shabriri grapes in your possession to me? My eyesight has been weak since birth, you see. But when I eat one of those grapes, I can feel a distant light in the back of my eyes. It will lead me, to my true duty, as a Finger Maiden."
(Offers grapes, tells her it's a human eye, blah blah)
"Haa... haa... Sorry, I'm alright now. I apologize. You told me for my own sake. I'll be fine. Think no more of it."
Saying that, Hyetta stood up, appearing lost in thought. Then, as if she realized something, she looked startled and spoke to the PC.
"Ah, are you there? I have gleaned something very important indeed, thanks to you. The reason why it was eyes I had to eat. The distant light is far and frail. So faint it can't be seen by the naked eye. But with everyone's eyes together, it appears. Finally, it all makes sense. I am certain now, I will become a finger maiden."
Her face, after saying those words, seemed very happy. Indeed, this blind girl is proclaiming herself to be the "finger maiden".
If that's the case, as Varré said, it seems appropriate to offer her as a blood sacrifice and dye the oath cloth with her blood.
Then let's kill her. Let's kill her, while she is smiling innocently. The PC's heart flutters, and their breath becomes heavy with anticipation for what is about to happen.
"What's the matter?"
Perhaps sensing the PC's untoward gaze, Hyetta smiled with a gentle expression. The state of her smile, unaware of her upcoming death. The PC felt a delightful sense of guilt coursing through their entire body. It was an incredibly pleasant feeling.
"Hello?"
These were the last words of Hyetta, the girl who ate Shabriri grapes in want of becoming a finger maiden.
The PC raised their weapon and struck her head. Again. And again. The splattering of blood and the metallic stench tickled the depths of their nostrils.
It was such a sweet fragrance.
She became motionless, a lifeless thing, the bloodied corpse that was once her. And into the overflowing crimson liquid, the PC soaked the oath cloth. In an instant, the cloth turned its color to a vivid red.
Now, the preparations to become a knight are complete. Let's hurry to the Rose Church where Varré awaits.
—
[B009 - Rose Church]
<EVENT: Varré ④>
Leaning against the church wall, Varré seemed to be humming some tune. The PC could see that he was in a very good mood.
"Ahh, my lambkin. You've completed your final trial. Uhuhu… The oath cloth has been dyed a beautiful red!"
Taking the crimson cloth from the PC and laying his eyes upon it, the white mask radiated joy, as if he was a young girl in love. (*cute girl, virgin girl)
"And with this, you are a formal inductee. A knight who will assist Luminary Mohg, the Lord of Blood, in the establishment of a new dynasty. Now, give me your finger. This noble blood will be an immutable badge of honor, once it settles. Inside of you!"
As instructed, the PC gave their hand. They remove the armor that covered their hand, exposing it completely.
"Uhuhu… it's a beautiful hand. Here we go."
Saying that,Varré takes the PC's hand and sinks a needle-like tool into their finger.
Intense pain strikes the PC. They try to shake it off, but Varré wouldn't release.
"Oh, good heavens. Clench your teeth, or something. Uhuhuhu… Now now, it's over already. You have the sweetest scream, my lambkin."
When they are finally released, the finger is stained red with blood.
"Never forget that feeling of agony. For it is what binds you to Luminary Mohg, to all of us. Uhuhuhu"
Varré was so happy for having completed the ritual, it was quite baffling.
"Oh, another thing. You should have this."
Varré says, moving with a feather’s grace while handing a medal to the PC.
[Obtained : Pureblood Knight's Medal]
"This is a medal granted by the new Mohgwyn dynasty. With the power to grant an audience with Luminary Mohg. I've gone out of my way to provide one to you. But you mustn't use it just yet. The meeting must wait until the Mohgwyn dynasty commences."
And taking the medal from PC, Varré happily attaches it to PC's cloak. The act made as if he was a newly married wife. (*new bride, newly married woman)
"For now, Luminary Mohg yet slumbers beside the Divinity. We must endure a little longer. Ahh, it is trying, but we must be patient. One day, you will be elevated, deservedly, basking in love. Right, my lambkin? Uhuhuhu."
As Varré says this, he leaned his head on the PC's shoulder.
—
[After Lyndell, this event can happen at any time.]
<EVENT: Varré ⑤>
The PC recalls the words gleefully whispered by white mask Varré.
"This is a medal granted by the new Mohgwyn dynasty. With the power to grant an audience with Luminary Mohg. I've gone out of my way to provide one to you. But you mustn't use it just yet. The meeting must wait until the Mohgwyn dynasty commences."
If they take Varré's words literally, it would mean that the PC has already become a knight serving the so-called Mohgwyn dynasty. And by using this medal, they would be guided into that dynasty.
When the PC raises the medal, they are instantly transported to an unfamiliar underground world. The place reeked of blood. Indeed, it seems they have been guided.
They could continue forward from here, but there is too little information about this Mohgwyn dynasty. So, they decide to return to the Round Table and seek answers from Gideon. He had promised to provide information and offer treasure in return, so it would be killing two birds with one stone.
Returning to the Round Table, they visit Gideon's room.
"Oh, Mohgwyn dynasty, is it? Hmm, so that's where the so-called Lord of Blood was hiding himself, eh. A fitting little squat for that deluded maniac to bleat about the revival of his precious dynasty, while he turns our fellow Tarnished into Bloody Fingers. Let him stay there. That way, his delusions will remain as they are - distant and unattainable. But perhaps it's worth looking into... If what I've heard is right, then maybe..."
Sir Gideon appears quite excited by the newly acquired knowledge.
"Ah, my apologies. Lost myself, for a moment there. The information you've shared is of great value. As promised, your reward:"
[Obtained : Throwing Weapons Crafting Manual (S039), Perfume Bottle Crafting Manual (S040), Potion Crafting Manual (S038)]
"You are a true fellow. All I ask is that you remain constant."
Gideon said, and the PC left the Round Table.
They once again arrive at the underground rocky area that claims to be the Mohgwyn dynasty. Based on Gideon's and Varré's words, it appears that this dynasty is not yet complete and is currently in a preparation phase. And they dream of restoring the dynasty. Maybe that's why Varré is obsessed with blood.
Thinking about that, the PC begins to feel a twinge of anger. Had they become too carried away, because of Varré?
And regarding the word 'revival of the dynasty', that Lord-something of this dynasty could be connected to a Demigod.
If the PC's speculation is correct, the ruler of the Morgwyn dynasty might possess a Great Rune. As evidence, grace is here, as always, transforming into a radiant arc that guides them deeper underground.
The PC's mind is made up. They will proceed further, defeat the lord of the dynasty, and seize the Great Rune.
Until now, they have taken the lives of various Tarnisheds and maidens, but it was all in pursuit of obtaining the Great Rune and becoming the King of Elden. It was a necessary sacrifice, that's how the PC thinks of it.
—
[ED07 - Mohgwyn Dynasty]
<EVENT: Varré ⑥>
In the corridor of the Dynasty Mausoleum, a red sign is floating. As the PC approached, they realized it was from the white mask Varré. If they touched it, they would enter Varré's world and be able to kill him. The PC thinks about what it means.
Who wrote this sign? They don't know, but it is clear that touching it would transform them into a red spirit to kill Varré.
It might be a convenient situation. After all, the PC's goal was to defeat the Lord of the Mohgwyn Dynasty and claim the Great Rune. It'd be best if they can eliminate Varré, who is scurrying around, before that. Suppressing a burst of laughter, the PC touched the sign.
In a similar place, at a similar time, Varré was there. He seemed surprised to see the PC's red form for a moment but then shook his head.
"I've made a grave error. You seek violence, heedless of my warning, though you have been raised to a knight of the dynasty?"
Varré seems to understand PC's intentions and held something resembling a bouquet in his hand.
"I'll ensure you regret this, my lambkin. Enjoy your miserable death."
Hysterically shouting, Varré lunged forward.
〔Normal Battle: "White Mask Varré"〕
Upon successfully defeating him, obtain <Varré's Bouquet>, <White Mask>, <War Surgeon's Gown>, and <Random Chest E070>. Then, continue reading.
After killing Varré, the PC returned to their original world. There, on the floor where the sign had been, lies Varré, dying.
"Why must I be... disgraced by this lowborn..."
Varré's murmured words were filled with anger. As his consciousness faded, Varré reached out into the void and cried out.
"O... Luminary... Mohg... Please grant... the strength... you promised! Varré has given... everything... Please... my lord..."
However, no one responded to Varré.
"Please, answer me... Luminary... Mohg. ...Aah…Aahh... ...Bless the Mohgwyn Dynasty, with love! Urghhh..."
Spilling a large amount of blood, Varré turned into light and disappeared.
[notes]
a. Varré is referred to as a man per 男 in introduction, but no gender related pronouns or such are used to describe him following that passage.
#elden ring#white mask varre#varre#varré#This is translated canon material via the original tabletop manual scans#please understand#sorry if the note isnt clear#hes only called a man in the introduction#after that the only gendering description terms are feminine
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il museo del sesso
Fandom: Ghost (The Band)
Pairing: Papa Emeritus III x GN!Reader
Genre: Romance - Fluff - Humour
Word Count: 1035
Summary: Reader has had a long day, and Terzo has Secondo's latest newsletter from his travels.
A/N: This is my first ever Ghost fic to see the light of day, and the first fic I've published in over a year. I'm scared, but I figured I'd unleash it into the wilderness! Some Italian terms of endearment are in the feminine, but the actual reader description is gender-neutral. Yes, bad Italian translations are featured - my ancestors are cursing me as I type. Enjoy!
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It had been a long day.
Sister Imperator had run you ragged preparing for Terzo’s next assignment, though he would no longer perform the duties bestowed upon him as the anti-pope, being retired meant having other expectations placed upon him instead.
You were to accompany him as an international dignitary of sorts, meeting with other congregations within the Ministry’s broader network, building an empire required going beyond Italy, Sweden or Los Angeles… And, after all, Terzo was a popular Papa, no matter how the dismissal from the higher clergy may have looked. Just as Secondo was out there performing ambassadorial duties when he wasn’t in his vineyards, so too would Terzo begin a new chapter.
But that was later. Now? Now you just needed to lie down.
-
Terzo was already on the bed when you entered your shared living quarters, and he was reading the latest instalment of Secondo’s monthly newsletter - an unusually personal and rather entertaining mailer only the Emeritus brothers were privy to.
To Terzo's great joy, it included a gossip column, specifically for his benefit he was sure, as well as an arts and culture spot. For Primo, there was a horticultural section full of plants and landscapes from wherever Secondo had been, and for Copia, there was a section on animals and literature.
The sound of your arrival has Terzo looking up with a pleased smile, his eyes are bright as he pats the space beside him, his raven hair falling loosely around his forehead. He puts Secondo’s digitally crafted newsletter down, letting the tablet rest on his thighs for a moment.
You waste no time taking him up on the offer, he looked utterly dashing in his glasses, his shirt unbuttoned enough to enjoy a peek of his chest. You loved Terzo in many ways, but seeing him relaxed and enjoying something away from clergy matters was high on your list.
Scooting next to him, you’re mindful of the device. Positioning your head on his torso, your arms locked around his midsection, the instant sensation of his warmth and the weight of his hand on your back has you exhaling with relief.
“Ciao, piccola ucella.” He greets softly, fingers grazing the back of your neck, slowly caressing as he begins to thread his fingers in your hair.
“Ciao, amore.” You hum, eyes closing for a moment, your muscles relaxing with each passing moment.
“Busy day, hm?” He asks with a smile, knowing full well that you would have been giving Imperator a run for her money.
“Si, very busy.” You answer half-heartedly, already well on your way to dozing on him.
You feel the soft rumble of his laughter against your ear, “It seems you’ve already decided on how to remedy this exhaustion, no?” Giving you a gentle squeeze.
“Oh absolutely, you’re my favourite cuscino.” You purr, grip tightening as you shiver, trying to draw extra warmth from his body.
He wordlessly puts the tablet on the bedside table and tugs at the blanket draped over the headboard, bringing it down over both of you, making sure you are suitably covered.
“You know, I find it very sweet when you use some of your Italian, tesoro.” He praises, his thumb brushing over the shell of your ear.
His gaze never leaves you, concern and adoration blending into one, though the conversation had been playful, he could see that you were not only physically fried but mentally too.
“Sorry, honey, I’ve interrupted your Secondo monthly.” You mumble, sighing, you wanted to talk to Terzo and enjoy doing something with him, but now your work mode had been switched off everything else was catching up to you.
“Bah, if I cannot cuddle with mia amata, and make sure they are well, then what good is this love we share, hm? It is okay to not always be, switched on, alright? You tell me this quite often, do you not?”
You really cannot argue with him, especially when he speaks to you in that hushed way that few people, if any, ever get to experience.
“I do.” You concede, lifting your head to look at him, your face full of gratitude, your hand cups his cheek, fingertips tracing those lines that make him so handsome to you, watching with a sweet ache in your chest as he closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation.
When he meets your gaze again his lips upturn into a mischievous smile, “Shall I read to you this last section that mio fratello wrote?”
Your expression matches his in excitement, nodding as you immediately plant your head back on his chest, ready to listen to every word.
“Molto bene, prezioso.” He hums, keeping one arm wrapped around you, the other scooping up the tablet and flicking back to the page he had been reading. He clears his throat for dramatic effect, adjusting the glasses on his nose.
Terzo begins, “The weather in Amsterdam was a drizzle, overcast, not too terrible by any means, if a bit glum for such an intriguing visit. Naturalmente, I was invited to il museo del sesso…”
“The sex museum?” You snort, laughter shaking softly through you, positive you understood him correctly.
“Si, si…” Terzo says with a wry smile, continuing. “I was invited to il museo del sesso, and wouldn’t you know it? In the modern and contemporary gallery, they had painted the most squisito portrait of me. Specifically, my “Anno Zero” momento, quite the homage to the Emeritus physique…certainly, they picked the right brother to fully display our prowess, eh, cari fratelli? Needless to say, it was an enjoyable visit.”
Now you’re giggling uncontrollably, whether it was because there was a naked painting of Secondo in Amsterdam’s sex museum, or whether it was because Secondo seemed exceptionally pleased with this fact, you weren’t sure.
“That has to be one of the best instalments yet.” You muse, giggles still bubbling in your tummy.
Terzo relishes the laughter he pulls from you, thankful for his brother’s colourful display of vanity for helping you get rid of some of the day's tension. He laughs too, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, squeezing you gently.
“Yes, my love, I’d say it was too.”
Fin.
-
Italian Glossary:
Ciao - Hello
Piccola Ucella - Little Bird
Amore - Love
Si - Yes
Cuscino - Cushion/Pillow
Tesoro - Treasure/Honey/Darling
Mia Amata - My Love
Mio Fratello - My Brother
Molto Bene - Very Good/Very Well
Prezioso - Precious
Naturalmente - Naturally
il museo del sesso - The Sex Museum
Squisito - Exquisite
Anno Zero - Year Zero
Momento - Moment
Cari Fratelli - Dear Brothers
#ghost fanfiction#the band ghost fanfiction#papa emeritus iii x reader#terzo x reader#dolceterzo writing
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Random OM! Realm Headcannons
This is a list of different headcanons I have on each realm, separated by All, Celestial, Devildom, and Human realm.
I will add to this list as I come up with more, but this is what is currently what's spinning through my head.
•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•
All:
TBA
Celestial:
Gender & Sexuality-
The Celestial realm has specific rules on gender expression and identity. An angel is not obligated to dress in a masculine, feminine, or an androgynous way, but they are expected to keep the name, pronouns, and body their Father gave them.
The act of wanting to change their body, name, or pronouns is seen as an insult to their Father and therefore a punishable offense.
Angels are also raised to believe romantic love and any form of attraction is sinful. It is believed that these two feelings can cause angels to stray from the path given to them by placing someone before them as more dear than their siblings or worse, their Father.
Both romantic love and sex are seen as a major offense punishable by death.
This is one reason that modern angels do not reproduce like the other races; there are no parents or pregnant angels in the Celestial realm; there is only their Father and he makes new angels when needed and keeps a tight hold on the population.
Culture-
Angels follow a strict doctrine and live in accordance to the values they are born with.
Just like demons are born inclined towards various sins and vices, so are angels with virtues; no angel is born without a virtue to embody.
Angels are expected to follow their virtue strictly or are given 'mercy' by being thrown into the Spring of Life, the body of water Father uses to make His children; basically he recycles them to protect Himself from the risk of that angel dropping their virtue and adopting a sin.
Devildom/Abyssal:
Gender and Sexuality-
Gender has always been seen as more or less fluid for the demons. What's between your legs is only treated as a suggestion and used to give their children more or less a template gender.
No demon is officially seen with a solid gender till they are adults, giving the younger demons time to explore their identities and figure out how they feel about their bodies.
Modifying one's body is not only allowed, but encouraged after a certain age. Demons have a plethora of potions to help with this and teenaged demons are often found changing their bodies' forms with these.
However, this is mostly done by the average demon and such changes are rarer for demons of the higher class, whose parents feel the need to have stricter control over their children for the sake of organizing power, arranged marriages, and heir planning.
Sexuality is also very diverse in the Devildom and is seen as something that can keep changing throughout a demon's life.
Most demons have a pretty pansexual mindset, meaning they just expect everyone to have the potential to be attracted to all forms of demons.
It is still common and accepted to have demons who are heterosexual or homosexual; demon's simply don't assume the person next to them is only interested in one gender.
"Human Realm":
Origin facts-
Though it now refered to as such, it is only because the original name has become controversial.
This realm used to only be refered to as the Cradle, since it was created solely to house and protect the Devil and Father's children.
This term is now deemed controversial because it is seen as demeaning to the humans, who have always been treated as children caught in the worse divorce in existence.
Because of this, the bland but true description of 'Human realm' is the polite term for this world
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Okay so I “made” a new gender apathetic/apagender flag because the one I found/we have was just kinda lacking for me?? Like it’s okay and I don’t dislike it, but I thought it needed something
So the current one, according to gender fandom wiki or whatever (https://gender.fandom.com/wiki/Gender_Apathetic), is by @pridearchive (idk why I can’t tag them but I also just don’t understand tumblr so oh well)
But anyway, I’m not a huge fan of the fact that a lot of the definition relies upon the usage of the word “lazy” a lot, because like, while it’s true that laziness and apathy are similar, they are not the same. I was confused for MONTHS as to why everyone around me cared so much about their gender, both cis and trans people, and I just didn’t. Like, I thought my dad might understand cause we talk about queer stuff all the time and he was like “???… but I am a man, that’s just a fact… are you saying there’s people who don’t care??” And that confused me more cause I was like “wait even cis people care that much about their gender expression??” Because for me, I thought that trans people really cared about their gender identity and expression because of the dysphoria they dealt with from being born as the opposite sex. So, to hear that cis people also have a strong sense of gender and really care about the way they present and are perceived threw me for a loop.
So I went down this rabbit hole for, as stated previously, MONTHS, just trying to figure out if anyone felt the way I did because I felt fucking crazy. No one else spoke about not caring about their gender identity, not caring if someone called them a guy or a girl or something in between. I found labels like Aporagender (“a gender identity that is neither masculine, feminine or inbetween the two but nonetheless involves a strong sense of gender; a term similar to maverique.” - https://en.pronouns.page/dictionary/terminology#aporagender) and genderfluid (“a gender that varies, or changes over time.” - https://gender.fandom.com/wiki/Genderfluid) and bigender (“a gender identity which can be literally translated as 'two genders' or 'double gender'.” - https://gender.fandom.com/wiki/Bigender) but none of them felt right, even if I liked their flags.
But then, out of frustration, I decided to google “what is it called when you don’t care about your gender” and gender apathetic popped up. And I read the description and I felt so… understood. I felt like, no matter how small the group was, I had finally found people who understood me and felt the way I did. And then, because I’m annoying and visual, I saw the flag… and I was just… feeling very… ehhh…
Like, the brown, purple/lavender/light blue, white, and gray on their own aren’t inherently bad, but something about it just felt bland and… nothing like the sense of relief I felt when discovering I wasn’t alone.
And then I clicked through onto the post about the meanings of each color and began to like it even less
But, I pushed forward, ignoring my dislike of the color arrangement and meanings behind them and sharing my newfound label/identity and flag with my friends. I finally felt like I had something I understood.
That is, until one night when I got bored. And I started searching for flag makers to see what was out there. I came across a Reddit post about a custom flag builder (https://www.reddit.com/r/lgbt/comments/ooz3tb/custom_pride_flag_builder/) which lead me to Team Ultima’s custom pride flag maker: https://www.teamultima.org/flag/
Needless to say, as an artist and someone who’s nitpicky about colors and designs, I was stoked to find something that allowed so much creative control! After messing around with it for a bit, I made this:
Now, I know it’s not really that different from the current flag. But, to me, this feels a lot more balanced and cohesive. With the one by pridearchive, the “light blue,” which we all know is just lavender tbh, was the only color that had a bright saturation besides the white. Our eyes are naturally drawn to it and this does not allow our eyes to flow along the flag and take it all in. We kinda see the purple and get stuck there. Not only that, because we expect white to be in the middle of pride flags (as well as Im sure a lot of other color theory reasons that I’m not knowledgeable enough to know of or explain), the flag felt top heavy and uneven, with no equivalent saturated color along the bottom. The flag was lacking horizontal symmetry and I think/hope I did a good job of bringing it to this flag without it feeling like it’s too much or too little.
With all that being said here are my/the new and improved color meanings:
Brown - The natural human desire to find a sense of belonging and community, even if said community is formed around having a label for not caring about labels. It can also represent the warmth and security felt by having a label that represents how you truly feel.
Light Blue - A feeling of tranquility and peace towards one’s gender identity and expression
White - The limitless void of possibilities in which one can express themselves
Lavender - The mixture of all genders, feminine, masculine, neither, and everything in between
Gray - Lack of gender stagnation, not caring if one’s gender presentation is not as simple as black or white
Anyway, I’ve never posted anything like this before so… lemme know if I’m totally doing it wrong and all my color meanings are terrible and way off base or whatever. I’m gonna make a separate post of just the flag and the color meanings and whatever so that people don’t have to read all my dumb backstory to get to the actual “redesign” 💅💅
#apagender#gender apathetic#lgbt pride#pride flag#pride flag redesign#pride flag design#lgbtqia#lgbtq community#pride archive#color meanings#lgbtqplus#idfk what to tag this#idfk how to tag this#i know what you are#bruh#I know as much about how to tag this as I care about what pronouns people use for me#help#uhhhh#i guess thats a tag#I guess that’s enough
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The diagnosis of gender dysphoria requires that a life takes on a more or less definite shape over time; a gender can only be diagnosed if it meets the test of time. You have to show that you have wanted for a long time to live life as the other gender; it also requires that you prove that you have a practical and livable plan to live life for a long time as the other gender. The diagnosis, in this way, wants to establish that gender is a relatively permanent phenomenon. It won’t do, for instance, to walk into a clinic and say that it was only after you read a book by Kate Bornstein that you realized what you wanted to do, but that it wasn’t really conscious for you until that time. It can’t be that cultural life changed, that words were written and exchanged, that you went to events and to clubs, and saw that certain ways of living were really possible and desirable, and that something about your own possibilities became clear to you in ways that they had not been before. You would be ill-advised to say that you believe that the norms that govern what is a recognizable and livable life are changeable, and that within your lifetime, new cultural efforts were made to broaden those norms, so that people like yourself might well live within supportive communities as a transsexual, and that it was precisely this shift in the public norms, and the presence of a supportive community, that allowed you to feel that transitioning had become possible and desirable. In this sense, you cannot explicitly subscribe to a view that changes in gendered experience follow upon changes in social norms, since that would not suffice to satisfy the Harry Benjamin standard rules for the care of gender identity disorder. Indeed, those rules presume, as does the GID diagnosis, that we all more or less “know” already what the norms for gender —'masculine' and 'feminine'—are and that all we really need to do is figure out whether they are being embodied in this instance or some other. But what if those terms no longer do the descriptive work that we need them to do? What if they only operate in unwieldy ways to describe the experience of gender that someone has? And if the norms for care and the measures for the diagnosis assume that we are permanently constituted in one way or another, what happens to gender as a mode of becoming? Are we stopped in time, made more regular and coherent than we necessarily want to be, when we submit to the norms in order to achieve the entitlements one needs, and the status one desires?
Judith Butler, Undoing Gender
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Transgender micolash
Valid, tho tbh I am not sure whether you sent it to ask my thoughts about it, or just informed me about what idea you like? Sorry it is just hard to say with ask lacking extra words to make it a statement or a question, hahah
I've shared my thoughts about Micolash's attitude to themes of birth and pregnancy occasionally, especially in this post ( x ), but yeah, it comes down to: no matter what Micolash is born with, he would LOVE to have an uterus. So imo, if he was born female, he'd come to lack genital dysphoria and even feel elevated during periods, however would absolutely dread being associated with femininity or motherhood as a role OTHERwise. Like... He'd love what his body allows him to experience, but in terms of gender identity absolutely be a man. And alternatively, as a trans woman, Micolash would definitely take advantage of weird eldrich powers gathered to be reborn in a new body - remember what kind of setting Bloodborne IS! Alternatively, his gender identity could stay male forever and he'd JUST want a type of body that can birth life. He admires this shit to a bizarre extent no matter what!
Again, you didn't specify whether you mean trans man or trans woman Micolash, but in Japanese original Micolash is referred to with the status more akin to king/lord (pretty masculine), not 'host'. So if you mean trans woman, that piece should be factored in. In my mind, Micolash is a man (or, as I like to say, 'my precious boy'), but yes if he is a trans man I can't help but feel like he would yearn to change many things about his body... but not That One. Deeper voice and no b00b tho? For sure. But besides personal dysphoria, there'd be added layer of wanting to become a 'perfect human being' - both male and female. However, that would turn out... well, not so perfect. I think we all can agree the only character in Bloodborne setting who changes the body with eldrich magic and gets the perfect result is Paleblood Hunter when they turn into a squid! (no, Val, you don't get to make the 'is that Patches erasure?!' joke fhghfutjh)
On the OOOOOTHER hand, notice how most of Great Ones are feminine figures? Oedon and Mergo aren't even gendered in Japanese original, and I for one only call OoK 'he' because he appears weirdly humanoid and resembles fishmen, while his mom (who also has human face) is more similar to snail/slug women (sex dymorphism strikes again)! You might want to say "but Oedon-" but holdup! Ebrietas is adult version of what Arianna's child is and is known in internal files as 'bastard of the Moon' so Flora, a feminine Great One, could impregnate mortal women too, you know? So it is possible that a man could get gender dysphoria induced by close proximity with Great Ones, rather than it occurring initially. Like what if Rom for example is only a she after being blessed by Kos, because apparently Godhood in Bloodborne is feminine.
That being said, trans woman Micolash is not necessarily excluded! Just not an interpretation I'd personally choose, because Micolash and Rom in my thing ARE 'brother and sister' mentioned in Brain Fluid description! My Mico is a man no matter with what body he was born! Also, now that I considered it, for trans man Micolash it could work that he used to have full on dysphoria, but it was after communing with Great Ones that he got appreciation for organs of birth that was stronger. Basically Great Ones can shift one's whole self-perception by being TOO much of moms?
(Fun fact, @saintmicolash did come up with an idea like whole three years ago - that Micolash, born male, is reborn with female reproductive system after weird eldrich s3x with Kos, but he can't birth a human and instead can only convert human sperm into her phantasms. I think this fits the character well too, but this idea is just change of the body, without any gender identity change, so I can't say how much it counts...?)
#bloodborne#micolash host of the nightmare#ask replies#whew sorry for the tangent i just have unnecessary amount of thoughts on how micolash-#-feels about various body parts and his desires regarding sexes and genders#'unnecesary' i say as this character is one of the most tied up to theme yeah#'school of mensis' more like 'school of MENSES' am i right dhfjgkkjjj#(okay sorry it was so bad)#no but seriously school of mensis is basicaly dudes going 'omggggg childbirth o:'#would only be natural if its founder had the most intricate and intimate experience with it#great ones snuck gender envy in everyone's brain eyes meal i guess?#a lot to think about#also you can tell i can't use my pc rn because of lack of pointless script screenshots
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aside from her noblewoman guise and her pirate garb, Esme is also mentioned to have dressed herself as a cabin boy at one point while finding out that Jack ran off with the rogues. the age-old pirate trick of hiding one’s true gender!
I don’t know if she’d make a particularly convincing cabin boy and as such it probably isn’t a disguise she’d make frequent use of (especially after becoming a captain), but it’s interesting to me that her “personas” seem to range from feminine to masculine to the sort of in-between that is her pirate outfit, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this 👀
YES i think you hit the nail on the head in regards to her pirate outfit being an in-between; it’s a very typical, extravagant pirate getup that goes all the way back to johnson’s illustrations, and while it is feminine, i think of it in the same way that i think of Hook’s ensemble as feminine : the same long, curly, scented hair, golden embroidery, extravagant feathers, etc (“a touch of the feminine, as in all the great pirates”). and she is cross-dressing in a way that would ordinarily affront the european sensibilities, you only have to read bainbridge’s drunken rant and godly offense at her wearing trousers to get a sense of that. she fits comfortably in the skin of someone who has both masc and femme attributes, much like jack’s description of her hands: she doesn’t bemoan the unladylike calluses, but she tends to her hands to make them look nice, and keep them soft on the back. I do often think of that post regarding cis people who have investigated their gender, and created for themselves an idea of what being that gender looks like comfortably for them ; Esmeralda would make pirate society more comfortable if she fully embraced masculinity, and she would make landed society more comfortable if she fully embraced femininity. she loves the idea of herself as a woman, but she’s not checking very many contemporary boxes in terms of performing it “correctly” or to meet the “ideal woman” standard.
in terms of the cabin boy disguise specifically, you’re right again that i don’t think she could pull it off very well and thus wouldn’t necessarily resort to it as a disguise very much ; while her height is helpful, esme boasts several attributes that makes completely masquerading as another gender difficult. although i will say, if she was wearing her stays, with a buttoned up waistcoat + cravat combo, and a long early 18th century waistcoat going past her hips ? not impossible, so it might be easier for her to pass in a society setting than a pirate one –– bare breasts and ankles all the way and all that. as a younger pirate it would have been even easier for her, which is probably where she picked up the habit ( or at least, the idea ) of stealing the boy’s clothes –– i imagine there were several occasions in her youth where she gave don rafael the slip, and he didn’t even notice because he sees what he wants to see. but i don’t think its success as a disguise prevents her from being comfortable in it –– let’s just say, basic of basic, the cabin boy just had a shirt and breeches, maybe a bandana and a vest. this is much closer to what she’s wearing on a regular, day to day basis on venganza ( i think she’s only putting on dresses if she’s playing hostess, or visiting someone ) and moreover what she’ll resort to for comfort even in non shipboard situations where she’s relaxing and not being social. not as the cabin boy persona specifically, of course, but a general masculine resting state.
in short the whole range is performative to varying degrees, she’s playing dress up as a captain just as much as she is as a spanish lady or the cabin boy, i don’t think there’s anything in the text to suggest that she’s more comfortable in women’s clothes just because she’s a woman, but she rather that she is comfortable in women’s clothes and men’s, and while she enjoys masculinity she doesn’t reject femininity or deride it. she likes to get dressed up and look cute but this applies almost as equally to her hyper feminine performances as it does her masculine ones, and if you don’t believe me just think about how hot she would be in a loose white shirt and a pair of breeches.
#flameandignite#✘; LETTERS ( answered )#✘; I HAVE SEVENTY TWO EXAMS AND I HAVE NOT STUDIED FOR ONE ( ooc )#this is a word vomit i hope somewhere in here is what ur looking for lizzy#i'll have to think on this more but this made me interested in what esme thinks of as performing gender beyond clothing#because there are certain parts of tpof where she rejects being cast into the feminine role when jack court's her - like rowing the boat#i.e. i'm not a woman i'm a pirate#but i think overall she views herself entirely separate to ''men'' particularly the men of the venganza#and she longs for women's company like marie's and amenirdis'#she's closer to jack but this is also because he's also in a kind of genderblurring boundary#i'm pulling facts out of my ass here but i think the contemporary gender divide was Mostly based on public vs. private/domestic#so when she becomes a captain she certainly moves More towards public on the spectrum. but you could also say that running a ship is not#entirely unlike contemporary feminine roles in keeping a house - keeping it stocked and managing its staff#like i said this is another post for another day but i am Musing
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How dating apps have tried to become more trans-inclusive over the years
Transgender actress Patti Harrison recently appeared in a comedic advertisement for the dating app Hinge’s “Designed to be Deleted” campaign. In the ad, Harrison plays an angelic receptionist at the Gate of the Afterlife who welcomes deleted Hinge app icons after newly and happily united couples delete the app from their phones.
While the ad is comical, online dating apps continue to provide an uneven experience for trans, nonbinary, and genderfluid users. Most dating websites and smartphone apps didn’t initially offer gender descriptions for these users to authentically present themselves to others. Even with expanded gender presentation options, non-cisgender users say that ignorance and transphobia continue to make online dating feel unsafe.
A brief (incomplete) history of LGBTQ+ online dating
The earliest days of LGBTQ+ online dating harken back to the late 80s and early 90s, when gay men used dial-up modems to connect through bulletin board systems (BBSs) like Backroom and Gay.net. Back then, some lesbians also used an e-mail listserv called Sappho and, later, the website lesbian.org, which contained personals, discussion forums, web links for lesbian-oriented non-profits, and even a lesbian literary journal called Sapphic Ink.
In the early to late 90s, web services like Compuserve and America Online (AOL) provided real-time M4M, W4W, and “transexual” chatrooms where queer love-seekers could connect, talk dirty, and spend hours uploading and downloading pixelated photographs of themselves via very-slow internet connections.
“I think LGBTQ+ people were always really early adopters to online dating,” Michael Kaye, the one-time director of brand marketing and communications for OkCupid told QSaltLake. “Speaking from experience, we are limited to the safe spaces that we have available.”
In the 2000s, some popular heterosexual dating sites like eHarmony didn’t allow gay and lesbian profiles, leaving queer users to look elsewhere like OkCupid, a personal ad site for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and cis-het people that appeared in 2004. OkCupid helped facilitate LGB dating by including a unique feature: It let users choose only to be visible to other queer folks, reducing the likelihood that gay men or lesbian women would receive messages from a bunch of eager and unwitting heterosexuals.
However, the biggest revolution in online dating occurred in 2009 with the advent of Grindr, one of the first third-party apps for Apple’s iPhone. While the app — and similar ones — facilitated countless quick hook-ups and longer-term relationships, the apps weren’t initially inclusive of trans, nonbinary, and gender-fluid users because they offered a limited range of self-identifying gender options and transphobic responses from other cisgender users.
Over time, trans-inclusive apps like Tser appeared. Tser specifically marketed itself as a place where trans people could find community and support, but trans users found that the app still contained transphobia: It categorized cis individuals as “men” and “women,” invalidating trans women and trans men as not “real” women and men. It also used the outdated term “transsexual.”
Expanding gender options is a good start, but not enough
In 2016, Tindr offered users the option of entering any term that best describes their gender identity for display on their profiles. Grindr and Hinge took similar paths by offering more gender description options — like “trans man,” “trans woman,” “non-binary,” “non-conforming” and “queer” — in 2017.
In 2023, eHarmony also began offering an expanded list of genders — including options like “agender,” “bigender,” “genderqueer,” “pangender,” “questioning,” “trans masculine/feminine nonbinary,” and “Two-Spirit.”
The app Bumble also expanded its options to be more inclusive of nonbinary users in 2022, but the app’s “women make the first move” feature — which was created to reduce creepy unwanted advances from men — didn’t allow nonbinary people to message others who identified as women.… http://dlvr.it/T63fhH
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Skinny Bitch (2005), and Body Policing in Diet Books:
In "Digesting Femininities: The Feminist Politics of Contemporary Food Culture" by Natalie Jovanovski, Jovanovski analyses how food and popular culture informs how modern women feel about, treat and police their bodies.
In Chapter 5, she analyses the diet book Skinny Bitch (2005) by Rory Freedman and Kim Barnouin, which covertly promotes a vegan lifestyle. Instead of focusing on traditional animal liberation talking points, the book focuses more on using veganism for aesthetic and physical goals. Jovanovski describes the book as using "post-feminist tropes", including arguments about what "post-feminism" means: some define it as the transitional period between second and third wave feminism, with women rejecting parts of the former that they didn't identity with, creating their own opinions (eg. the concept of sexual liberation and using female sexuality to one's advantage) (Jovanovski, N., 2016). Critics of post-feminism believed that the term implied that feminism was dead, that all genders are now equal and therefore there is no need to fight for women's liberation anymore (Jovanovski, N., 2016).
I think post-feminist is an apt description for Skinny Bitch (2005)'s language, target audience and motivations, as it simultaneously sets up being "skinny" and "fat" not just as a body types, but concepts and "ways of being", aiming to "empower" the reader into becoming the former (the free, empowered skinny woman) yet actively antagonising the lifestyle, behaviour and personality of the latter (as well as assuming the reader is "fat" by default). In addition, the binary of only "skinny" or "fat" allows less room for the female reader to properly categorise themselves, encouraging body policing:
Are you sick and tired of being fat? Good. If you can’t take one more day of self-loathing, you’re reading to get skinny … This knowledge will empower you to become a skinny bitch (Freedman, R and Barnouin, K., 2005, (pp. 10).
It’s easier to socialise after you’ve had a few drinks. But being a fat pig will hinder you sober or drunk. And habitual drinking equals fat-pig syndrome. Beer is for frat boys, not skinny bitches (Freedman, R and Barnouin, K., 2005, (pp. 12).
At first glance, the language feels so hyperbolic and wild I can barely tell if it's meant to be parody or not. However, within the back pages lies a excerpt: "P.S. Wait! We have a confession to make. We really couldn’t care less about being skinny... (pp.224)" Despite the consistent reinforcing of their narratives throughout, it all pans out to be ironic (but only at the very end). However, does this disclaimer even matter? As seen in Jovanovski's text, many of Skinny Bitch's positive reviews take the book seriously (Metro, Jon Robbins, etc.), turning the exaggeration in the book completely real. With the additional context of veganism, this claim only becomes more reductive as the book, whilst promoting a diet that champions animal liberation, compares its readers negatively to animals such as pigs. (Jovanovski calls these "non-human referents", a reference to Carol J. Adams' studies that she references in this book.) To their credit, the sequel book, Skinny Bitch in the Kitch (2007) makes the hyperbolic, satirical, and vegan nature of the book a lot more obvious, and even reclaims traditionally negative non-human referents by the authors playfully calling themselves "total pigs" as they mention indulging in food early on in the book, setting a clearer context for their intentions and language (Freedman, R and Barnouin, K., 2007, pp. 11).
Skinny Bitch (2005) also moralises and personifies certain foods, applying the indulgent, hedonistic perception of desserts into its advice:
"Brace yourselves, girls: Soda is liquid Satan. It is the devil. (Freedman, R and Barnouin, K. (2005, pp. 13)" and "The devil [sugar] is lurking. Probably in places you wouldn’t ever expect to find "him". (Freedman, R and Barnouin, K. 2005, pp. 27).
The book explicitly genders soda as "him", reflecting the masculine surveillance within women's food habits, heavily echoing the self-surveillance of women caused by the male gaze. The use of religious concepts such as "the devil" attaches a clear negative morality to soda and other sweets. Watching out for added sugar in food is now turned into "the devil lurking", something insidious and cosmic.
Moralisation isn't uncommon in the intersectional world of feminism and food: as seen in the Haagen Dazs advertisements and Lee Price paintings I've previously researched. However, while Haagen Dazs sells the pleasure of dessert, as it dares its viewer to indulge in its ice cream; Skinny Bitch (2005) sells the pleasure and aesthetic of thinness to the point of literally demonising the presence of sugar in food. Price's work echoes the themes of self-surveillance and attaching the male gaze to food, as well as the moral aspect of eating. Whilst her subjects are intently posed for the viewer's eyes, even then, they are allowed to indulge and binge in the confines of their bathrooms and bedrooms. The aspiration of being a "Skinny Bitch" means the forgoing and religious caution of any form of sugar or sweet indulgence (lest the devil finds you).
Bibliography:
Freedman, R. and Barnouin, K. (2005) Skinny Bitch: A no-nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous!. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Running Press Book Publishers.
Freedman, R. and Barnouin, K. (2007) Skinny Bitch in the kitch: Kick-ass recipes for hungry girls who want to stop cooking crap (and start looking hot!). Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Running Press Book Publishers.
Jovanovski, N. (2017) Digesting femininities: The Feminist Politics of Contemporary Food Culture. Cham, Switzerland: Springer International Publishing AG. Available at: https://www.scribd.com/document/382184146/Digesting-Femininities-pdf (Accessed 28th April 2023).
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Advice for Writing Trans Male Characters
Hi everyone, and welcome to our second guest post! We approached a trans man, and fellow writer, to put together a list of suggestions for cis people who want to write trans male characters! He has chosen to remain anonymous. Always remember, there is no one trans experience, and no one trans person’s knowledge will reflect the range of ways that trans people live. Our post author writes from his perspective, based on his knowledge and research, and much of this is relatively specific to the modern United States. Always use multiple sources when writing a character with an identity or identities that you don’t share!
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So, you want to write a trans male character but you're not a trans man yourself. Good! We need more trans male characters out there in the world. There are a few things to consider, however. This is not a perfect list (I would never claim to be perfect), but here are some thoughts from a trans man about writing people like me.
Trans men are men. They talk like men, think like men, and walk like men, except where socialization as women has forced otherwise. By this I mean that descriptions should not include things like “he walked delicately, like a woman”. However he walks, it's like a man, because he’s a man. Other characters should not note that he “thinks like a woman” or that he “acts like a woman.” If you talk about a trans man transitioning and you mention that he is working on ways to masculinize his speech patterns or walking, that's fine, but make sure it's done from his perspective, e.g. “Michael tried to lower his voice, attempting to sound more like his father.” Do not use “Michael tried to lower his voice, not wanting to sound like a woman.” It's his voice and he sounds like a man. Also, many woman have deeper registers and many men have higher registers, and there's honestly not that much difference between a woman who speaks in a low alto and a man who speaks in a high tenor. Avoid gendering voices, mannerisms, and other things. A good rule of thumb is that if it's a concept, idea, or an inanimate or non-sentient thing, it is physically and/or emotionally incapable of having a gender and you should not assign one to it.
1. A trans man who has decided that all he needs to do is come out to be a man is still a man, with a man's body and male genitals, because he says he's a man. Even if he is not out, he is a man. He can be uncomfortable with his body, or with how others perceive his body, but it should not be described in terms of “womanly” aspects.
EX: David's breasts made him uncomfortable, reminding him that others looked at him differently than how he would have liked.
2. 72% of trans men do not ever want full gender reassignment surgery, and this doesn’t make them “less of a man.” The surgeries are expensive, invasive, and don’t always result in a fully functional genital apparatus. Also, there are a lot of them. A trans man, to have a full semi-working penis (one that will not be useful for sex but will at least be useful for urination), is looking at at least three surgeries: to remove the labia, to 'bulk up' the clitoris, and to move the urethra. There are also surgeries to remove the cervix and/or the uterus, to create a scrotum, and to add a pump inside the scrotum attached to a surgical implant in the penis to assist with arousal. Even if a man has all these surgeries, the penis he gets loses most of its sensitivity and won’t become physically aroused (as in, achieve erection) without medical intervention. He may also need electrolysis to remove pubic hair. Ultimately, many trans men opt not to deal with it. Many still want top surgery, or a hysterectomy, or both, and often testosterone is used to help deepen their voice and change their body shape (but, again, gendering a trans man's voice by suggesting it's “feminine” because he's not on testosterone or because his voice hasn't dropped yet is not a great idea). It depends on the type and amount of dysphoria a person experiences, versus their financial and mental ability to deal with the different choices. Some trans men are happy with no hormones and only top surgery. Others want or need everything. There is no “correct” way to be trans.
3. Unless your story revolves around their transition (which, as a cis person, maybe it's best you don't do, honestly), there’s no reason to go into detail about your trans male character's surgeries. If it’s not plot relevant, it's probably not necessary.
4. If you’re writing porn, make sure to always use male pronouns for him, even if he has chosen not to go through surgery. If he has gone through surgery, what he has will be indistinguishable from a cis male penis except that he may need viagra or a surgical pump.
5. Reactions to testosterone are different for every trans man. Some men never have their voices drop, never grow a beard, and/or never bulk up and get all muscle-y. Some men are on testosterone for two weeks and have a Gandalf beard with a voice low enough to sing bass. It just depends, mostly on genetics. If your character's father is a super hairy mountain man who sings bass in his lumberjack quartet, then your character is more likely to end up similar. If your character's father is basically an elf, then he's likely to be similar to that. Also, for a number of reasons, a trans man may choose not to or may be incapable of taking testosterone. Most doctors won’t prescribe it if the man wants to carry his own children in the future, for example.
6. Keep in mind that the order in which testosterone produces effects on a man’s body isn’t predictable, so don't worry too hard about 'getting it right.' Even trans men can't predict what they'll look like after being on testosterone for a while.
7. Also, a note: If your character is transmasculine and nonbinary, and taking testosterone, it's likely they will be on a lower dose than a trans man. That's not always true, but testosterone can be given at a few different doses, depending on how drastic a change a person wants and how quickly they want that change to occur. There’s still no guarantee: a trans man may never be able to grow a beard on a full dose, while a transmasculine nonbinary person might be on a very low dose and have a beard within the first month. But, generally, lower doses are meant to bring out smaller changes over a longer period of time, while higher doses are meant to bring out larger changes over a shorter period of time.
8. A non-fluid trans man is going to consider himself a man at all times, and always use he/him pronouns for himself, whether or not everyone else does. If you're writing a trans man point-of-view piece where he's not out or where he's not fully accepted, make sure he or the narrator always uses the right pronouns when others don't. That helps remind your audience that he's not the person other people think he is.
EX: Daniel was frustrated. His grandmother insisted on calling him “Sarah” no matter how many times he corrected her.
9. Menstruation is a difficult topic for a lot of trans men. Some men lose their ability to menstruate when they take testosterone, while others continue to menstruate. If they retain their uterus, however, the possibility of a menstrual cycle is always there. If/when menstruation happens for a trans man, it's often a time of major dysphoria. A trans man may have a lot of issues surrounding menstruation. Having a cervix also means yearly Pap smears, which can also be uncomfortable or dysphoria-inducing. Dysphoria can also happen during ovulation, when a person is most fertile. The body during this time is “getting ready for a baby” and the changes can be very triggering.
10. Testosterone may stop menstruation, but it doesn't necessarily stop pregnancy. Also, some trans men will go off their testosterone in order to carry their own child. During their pregnancy, it is important that they are still referred to as men. A trans man will generally prefer to be called “father” even if he carried the child, but some may prefer the term “mother.” If a cis person wishes to write a pregnant trans character, it would be better to err on the side of caution and use “father.” A trans man who has gone through top surgery will not likely be able to nurse his own children, but a man who has chosen to use a binder instead will be able to (probably - some people don’t/can’t lactate for other reasons). Whether or not he chooses to will be up to him.
11. Gender Dysphoria is the medical diagnosis given to trans people who want to do any form of medical transitioning. Being transgender is not in and of itself a diagnosis. A person can be transgender and choose never to transition medically. Dysphoria is generally most clearly understood as a form of discomfort in the body you possess. Sometimes a person experiencing dysphoria is uncomfortable with their body no matter what. He doesn't like his breasts, for example, unless they are bound, no matter what his setting is, who is looking at him, etc. His dysphoria takes the form of nausea at the mere sight of them. Alternatively, some people only experience dysphoria relating to how others see them. For example, a man may not mind his breasts when he's alone, and he doesn't usually bind, but on a specific day while he wasn't binding someone glance at his breasts before calling him 'ma'am' and now he can't uncross his arms in case someone else looks his way. For some people dysphoria comes and goes, and they have good days and bad days. Also, images can be dysphoria-inducing. For example, seeing a pregnant person might remind a man that he has a uterus, and make him extremely uncomfortable all day. Other people may go several days, or weeks or months, without experiencing dysphoria, but when it hits it affects them for a long time or very severely. Or a person might experience dysphoria every day, as kind of a low-level mental fog they can't shake.
12. Gender Euphoria is as valid as Gender Dysphoria. Gender Euphoria is the idea that a person might be content in the body given to them, but will never be truly happy unless they make a change. These people can live their whole lives as the gender assigned to them at birth without severe mental issues or physical problems, but it's like living a life without color. They can do it, but if there's a way to get color back, why wouldn't they?
13. Changing names is complicated and takes time. It also differs in every state/country, and may need to be re-done when a trans man moves. In some states, all they need to change their name legally is a court order. In other areas, a trans man needs to have lived using their new name for a period of time, or have doctor’s notes and authorizations. Once the character has changed their name legally through the courts, they need to change their driver's license, banking information, insurance, work papers, social security information, passport, birth certificate, and any other documentation bearing their name. It can take anywhere from a month to a year or more, and is expensive, sometimes prohibitively so. It's okay to have a trans male character who goes by “Mark” but whose parents or grandparents refer to as “Melissa.” The important thing is to make sure narratively you are confirming that those people are wrong.
EX: “Melissa! It's nice to see you come to visit!” Mark's mom said. Mark cringed, hating the sound of his deadname, but he hadn't yet been able to convince his mother to use the right one.
14. Do not portray a character binding for more than eight hours or with unsafe binders in a positive light. Just don’t. Binding, even with professional/high-end binders, is not safe. It's a stopgap - safer than not binding at all for some people whose dysphoria is really bad. It constricts the lungs and can break ribs if not done properly. It can permanently alter a person's chest cage if done for an extensive period of time. It's a necessary evil for people who are waiting to get their surgery done, in order to keep them alive to have that surgery. It's not a permanent cure-all. Binding also can cause dysphoria. A person who doesn't have dysphoria surrounding his chest can develop it after wearing a binder. So, have your character bind safely, or discuss the issues surrounding unsafe binding. (And yes, this applies even in a fantasy setting or world where the technology may be different. A story is a story, but the impact it could have on a real trans man is potentially dangerous, so write with consideration, and if you do introduce a magical or technological solution to this, maintain awareness of the reality.)
15. Transitioning without an in-person support group is one of the most common factors in transitioning regret. Give your character someone to go to the doctor with them, someone to hold their hand when they get scared, someone to talk them through moments when they're unsure. No one who goes under the knife is always completely 100% sure all the time. They need a community. Surgery and hormones are scary, even if a trans man knows he wants them, and trying to go it alone can spell disaster.
16. Given that a trans man will consider himself a man, it can be challenging to make it clear to a reader that he’s trans. If he's the main/POV character, you can write him dealing with some dysphoria. For example, if you decide your character binds, mention that his breasts are bothering him particularly badly one day. Have him adjust his binder. Describe putting a binder on. That kind of thing. If he's a minor character, it can be more challenging, but you can still have him do things like adjust a binder. You could also mention surgical scars, if a character takes off their shirt. Another thing you can do is just have the main character remember a time “before Mark went by Mark” (for example). Another way is to have the character mention some way in which they are fighting for trans rights, and acknowledge that the issue is personal to them. Try not to use the deadname unless he’s facing an actual microaggression by another character. The narrative or narrator character should never deadname the character.
17. FTM is not an accepted term anymore, as it implies that a person was one thing and changed. Generally speaking, if a trans man is not genderfluid, then he was never female or a woman. Likewise, the phrase “born in the wrong body” is not acceptable for use by cis people. The only real use it has is to explain dysphoria by transgender characters to cisgender characters who aren't inclined to listen or try to understand. The accepted term is AFAB, or Assigned Female At Birth. Keep in mind that terms and labels change with time, so do your research. For example, if you’re writing a historical piece, different terms may be more appropriate, and if you’re writing a modern current-day piece, understand that in ten or twenty years the terminology you use will likely have grown outdated.
18. The proper way to write the term is always “trans man” and never “transman”. Trans is an adjective describing a type of man, just like you might say an Asian man or a muscled man or a gay man. This comes back to the idea that a trans man is always a man, first and foremost.
19. An easy pitfall to avoid if your trans male character's setting is modern or modernesque is: Don't make the story all about their oppression. We are aware of the many ways in which the modern world is trying to oppress and harm the trans community, but trans men can still be happy and interesting people. They can have dysphoria without being depressed. They aren’t necessarily the “down in the dumps” character. Also, trans men have a long history of being activists, and are often erased in history, so don't be afraid to make your trans men an out-and-loud activist. Yes, terrible things have happened and continue to happen to trans men, and any trans man who has done any research into trans history will know about individuals like Brandon Teena. Trans men know the dangers they face. Knowing that bad things can and are happening doesn't mean a trans man can't find his own joy in life, despite things not being perfect.
20. Keep in mind when writing in historical settings that trans men have existed for as long as people have existed. Many trans men were able to go through life completely “undetected” until they died and those around them conducted culturally-common burial practices. It’s not unreasonable to have a trans man in Regency England, Yuan China, or Roman times. If you're writing about non-European-centric history, many cultures acknowledged those who didn’t present the way their AGAB (assigned gender at birth) would suggest, and do your research. Also, keep intersectionality in mind, and tread especially carefully when writing a trans man from a culture and period other than your own. This post is mostly applicable to trans men in the modern era, and especially in the United States. The trans male experience will be different in other places in the world, for people of different ages and of different religions and ethnicities and races, so the more traits your trans man has that are outside your own experience as a cis writer, the more you should consider if it’s wise for you write the story you have in mind, or if it might not be better to allow in-group members to tell those stories. And never forget - trans men can and are all things - all races, all religions, abled and disabled, etc. People have nuanced identities and multiple identifiers and trans is always only one of many.
21. In fantastical or science fiction settings, please always ask yourself if oppression of trans people or bigotry against them is even needed. Maybe a society doesn't assign gender at birth, but waits until a child is old enough to tell the society where they belong. Maybe a society reveres those who are under the transgender umbrella. Maybe children are considered genderless until they reach puberty. You have a million and one options; why limit yourself to what modern predominantly Western white Christian society says? If you do make a society that doesn't look anything like the modern world, for example they assign gender at age five, think about how that would affect society as a whole. What kind of pronouns would be used for children under five? Are young children genderless, or are they seen as genderfluid? What about people who age past five and are still genderless or genderfluid? What are the naming conventions for children?
22. There are mixed feelings regarding how a science fiction or fantasy setting should treat transitioning. Should it be an easy fix, with magic or advance science doing it instantly or nearly so? Or should it be difficult, reflecting the modern situation where the process often years before a person can feel “finished?” That's up to you. Trans people themselves are split on this, so there’s no pleasing everyone. Do your best, and whichever way you choose, make sure to tag it accurately or, for original fiction, be clear up front what approaches you’ve chosen, so people can choose not to read something that may make them uncomfortable at best or trigger them and profoundly harm them at worst.
Ultimately, your trans man is your character and you can do with him as you wish. Write responsibly, and do your research, and if you can, get a sensitivity reader or a beta who is a trans man.
So, go, diversify those stories, write the things, and present good representation! Happy writing!
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Spiral (Revenant x Reader)
Theme: Revenant tries to keep his abrasive image up while preparing for a trios match. The reader comes to terms with losing a manic high for a depressed low, finding that they are unable to keep up with Revenant's pace or cope sufficiently on their own.
Warnings: Physical male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, bipolar, depression, mania, nightmares, general romantic fluff.
Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is trending feminine in this chapter, I would argue I've crossed into romance at this point.
Gender Warning: The reader trends feminine this chapter and here on. It just got too long, I am sorry. Next chapter the reader is fully AFAB/Female. I am genuinely sorry for any and all discomfort/inconvenience this causes. I will likely try writing shorter non-gendered/masculine fics later when I am done with this monstrosity.
Writing Notes: I need to borrow Nox's stash of chloroform so I can test what happens if I put a soaked towel on my face so it doesn't fall off after I'm out. It's for science.
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You stand up, not tall but hunched, holding your arm, flinching from a pain you cannot feel. You stand guard in front of a battered chassis, its facial plates broken into fragments, revealing the copper, wire, and optic spheres behind. You cannot feel yourself breathe, but you can hear the labored rattling of synthetic breath behind you. You refuse to take a step backwards. Revenant's optics hang out of where their sockets once were, and you have the dreading sense of stepping backwards and onto one.
Loba's eyes are like a wolf's. They hunger for blood, and they pierce and sink into your soul like fangs. She wants to finish the job. When did you step in to save him? It doesn't matter now, you've gotten in her way. You shudder, fearful of her wrath. You go to plead for your lives, but it feels as if the words are stuck in your mouth, and the only sound you make is silence. You speak louder, harder, but still you hear nothing from yourself. Loba lifts her cane to strike you. You attempt to scream out your words, and you finally hear your voice, but it barely comes across as a whisper. It isn't enough.
You're struck, and your body is knocked away, leaving Revenant open. You attempt to run back in the way, but you cannot run anymore. You trip and tumble over your own feet, unable to make sense of your own movements enough to reach your target. You scream as her cane plunges into his head. The dread of thinking he isn't coming back looms over you. Then, the fear and loathing hits, causing you to scream in grief and agony. It barely makes a sound.
Loba looks at you. Looks down at you. Looks at you with zero concern for what she's done to you. You swear you will find vengeance to yourself, suddenly sitting over the corpse of your dead friend. Content to see your mourning, she turns and walks away. You scream one more time over his corpse.
Suddenly, the floor underneath you turns fluid, causing you and the chassis to fall in as Loba struts off in the distance, disappearing from sight as you plunge under. You attempt to swim, but you're pulled under as the chassis floats away. The ocean is so cold, and strangely empty as you look around. You hold your breath, trying not to drown, but a kaiju-sized crab grabs you from below and pulls you away from the surface, miraculously not crushing you with its claws. You begin to revolt in its grasp as your body screams for air. The crab wraps its spindly arms around you, placing your head in its crushing claw, but still it doesn't harm you. Finally, you breathe in, surprising yourself as the water flows just as air did. You do not drown, or even choke. Other giant sea creatures begin to appear as the ocean warms with their presence. You want to scream. You try to scream. One or all of these creatures could easily tear you apart and eat you whole. You stuggle against the grasp of the crab, ensuring you slip your head out of its claw first, but the water slows all your movements. You slip away, punching the crab in its... mouth? You're not sure, but you bopped it right where its nose should be. It recoils in confusion.
A nearby, equally kaiju-sized cuttlefish lunges and grabs you, completely wrapping itself around you. Its warm, but you swear you can feel its beak against your back. You scream. At least you try, but it turns into wild sobbing as you assume you will die to this cephalopod. You loved these creatures, but you never wanted to die by one. You know how they kill. They just eat in chunks, no mercy killing included. You're terrified. You sob.
"Stop crying." The cuttlefish seems to mutter, "You're fine."
You're only more afraid at its sudden sentience, and begin to struggle to pull your arms out of its grasp. One bop on the crab was enough to escape. Maybe this will be no different. But what about all the other giant sea creatures? Now there were a ton hanging around, and none of them were smaller than a vehicle.
The cuttlefish squeezes harder to resist your escape as you scream out, adrenaline coursing through your pained and panicked body.
"That's it, I can't let this go on any longer." It says, suddenly shaking you, "Wake up!" You whimper in fear as the ocean turns pitch dark, the cuttlefish arms turning into familiar simulacrum limbs, and the voice returns to a recognizable one. You're awake.
You gasp through tears, still recovering from the mental shock of your nightmare.
"What the hell just happened?" Revenant asks, probably rhetorically to himself. "You were doing fine, but then you started screaming my name and then crying..."
"I don't--" you begin, as you see his eyes sharpen as he recognizes your consciousness. He grabs your face before you can finish, wiping away the remnants of tears.
"Shut it, don't say anything, just calm down." His voice is soft, even if his word choice is demanding. You quickly realize he's lying down with you. In a bed. Covers over you both. You have no idea what time it is, but it seems like the sun might rise soon from the color of the sky in the window. You're suddenly washed over with the grief of seeing Revenant killed in front of you, even if it was merely a dream. You look at Revenant and it stings potently. You start to cry again, choking back as much as you can.
"What? I didn't even say anything!" He squeezes your face harder, clearly bothered that looking at him caused you to cry. "I didn't do anything!" He tries to wipe away the new tears, but they flow sideways towards gravity as you're still lying in bed. He misses quite a few, not that you care.
You close your eyes and try to retract your face to hide it, but he holds on insistently, refusing to lose his grip. You think about it again. You think about watching him die again. You begin to weep harder, unable to breathe normally as your body forcefully exhales every cubic centimeter of air in your lungs with each sorrowful moan. You feel bad. He shouldn't have to deal with this. You try again to pull away. He relents your face this time, but quickly grabs you around the torso, pulling you into a embrace.
"Please stop crying." He mumbles. "I won't actually hurt you. You have to know that by now." He sighs. "I'm not as terrible as you think I am." You can barely hear him through your own wails, but you realize that his interpretation of the nightmare is all wrong. "I'm not going to kill you." He whispers. He is almost silent, perhaps trying to hide his confession.
You instinctively need to comfort him. You hug him, throwing your arms behind his head, while his whole body recoils in shock far too late to escape your grasp. You cry into his forehead, still unable to speak. His scarf must be off again, as your tears don't absorb into his mask and instead roll downward. He lets you hang on to him for a few moments before carefully prying your arms off. As his face is slowly freed from your embrace, he looks at you with an inquisitive stare.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you into having a nightmare about me." He carefully states, a pang of regret in his voice.
"I didn't." You finally are able to breathe well enough to speak. You wipe a few tears off with your arm. "I was trying to protect you." His optics widen.
"You... what?"
"I was trying to protect you. Loba was there. She wanted to... I couldn't let it happen again. I tried to save you, but... I couldn't. But I really tried!" Your crying has slowed, but not stopped. "Then I feel into an ocean and I punched a crab and a cuttlefish caught me." Revenant stares blankly for a moment, then chuckled upon processing the last sentence, not even trying to stifle himself.
"Excuse me, what?" His hands go back to wiping tears away. "Did you mistake me for a crab?"
"No I'm not--"
"You hit me in the nose, skinsuit." He states through a chuckle. "I had to crawl over you and grab you from this side in hopes you couldn't get me a second time." He snickers harder thinking about it.
You sit there, a bit shocked at yourself and at him taking it so well.
"You punch like a five-year-old child. But you had the target correct... if I had a nose to break." He continues to snicker. "Also, why on earth would you punch a crab? Just step on it." You start to chuckle with him, not fully sure why you didn't realize how silly it sounded before. "And a cuttlefish? Really? You have some funny fears, skinsuit." He relinquishes, pleased that the waterworks are over. "How do you feel now?"
You think about it for a moment.
"I guess it's okay, I just... I don't want you to die, okay?"
"I can't. You should know that." His hand rests on your head, playing with your hair a little.
"No, I mean... I don't want you to keep dying painful deaths over and over... I don't want to see you suffer." You clarify, and his eyes widen with some type of new emotion, as if you just understood him in a way he did not expect.
He says nothing, but he takes a moment to pull you close and wrap his arms around you again. His mask presses against your face and his eyes dim as if to prevent you from being blinded by them. His nostrils blow hot air onto your neck and chest from his rattling chest. His body makes an unmistakable whirr while idling, and his vocals almost purr. His fingers press into your back, lightly caressing your spine. You attempt to wrap your arms around his torso but fail miserably, so you settle for just pressing your palms into the chest plate, wondering if he can feel it.
Your breathing starts to slow. You're completely relaxed. It doesn't matter if he's metal and rigid, it's still comfortable when warm and lined up right. You feel your eyelids droop as his optics tighten their focus on you. He doesn't move at all except to study your spine affectionately. You give off a final rattle in your bones as sleep takes you once again.
• • • •
You wake up to Revenant's hulking mass sitting on the bed beside you, on top of the covers again and simply staring down at you, probably watching for another nightmare-induced outburst.
"You okay, little skinsuit?" He recognizes you're conscious now.
"Yeah, I'm alright." You manage to get out between yawns. "Sorry about last night."
"It's fine, don't mention it." His dismissal implies he's trying to keep his persona up again. "I have a game in a few days. We have errands to run before then."
"Errands?" You're not sure what he does to prepare for a game. Last time he seemed to just wing it.
"Yeah, today we're doing a walkthrough of World's Edge on Talos. We're allowed to walk the grounds and look for any objections or ideal areas before crates and material booths are placed."
"Wait, 'we'?"
"Yeah, 'we'. I need to do some scouting. You're going to help." He's insistently sitting there with his arms crossed.
"I'm not exactly as strategic as you're giving me credit for..." You say as you sit upright, rubbing your eyes.
"I never made any such accusation. If anything, you're reckless and erratic." He scoffs, "I wouldn't be asking you to come if I didn't have a plan."
Oh, a plan. That sounds interesting, but simultaneously concerning considering it involves you. You're not exactly good at knowing how to snipe, hide, kill, maim, slice, shoot, execute, dislocate, stab, parry, counter, throw, punch, deflect, fan the hammer--
"Are you even paying attention?" He grumbles, snapping you out of your list. "Go get ready."
"What... what is Talos like?" You sheepishly ask, he looks at you surprised for a moment, then realises most people haven't been to Talos.
"Oh, well, it's... Nice, I guess? Pretty wild weather-wise." He seems to be a bit unsure of how to answer. You've seen Talos through the television before, and it seemed to sweep between lava flows and iced over regions, with no regard for normalcy. You have a raincoat as your "extreme weather" option, but you had never invested in warmer clothes before, as you've never needed them before.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" He demands, bringing you out of your deadpan stare. "You're normally more lively than this."
"Sorry, give me a few minutes." You get out of bed, but slowly, not making eye contact again. You feel off. Weirdly off. You grab the bag of new clothes you purchased the day before off the nightstand, meander over to the computer desk to grab the bag of medicine, and make your way to the little closet bedroom in the back. You can't figure out what it is, but you feel uneasy. Did the nightmare mess you up this badly?
You close the pocket door behind you, shuffle through your clothes looking for anything that works for very variable temperatures. Nothing really does. You determine that you're best off wearing your only long-sleeve shirt and long pants. That's the best you can do.
That's the best you can do.
You repeat it in your head a few times, becoming increasingly bothered by its meaning.
"Fuck." You whisper aloud. That seems like depression. The mania is receding into depression again. You sigh, obviously this is just part of your condition, but it never ceases to be disappointing that the high points have to end. Are your highs necessarily healthy? No, but it sure as hell beats depression any day. You don't even want to shower. You just want to lay in bed.
You take a deep breath and decide to just get moving. Nothing can save you from this fate. It's just the nature of the beast.
• • • •
You slide open the pocket door to reveal Revenant on the other side. His scarf is back on.
"So, what was that 'fuck' about?" He's immediately inquiring, listening in again no doubt.
"Uh, just thought of something, that's all." A non-answer should be fine. You don't want to bring it up. His LEDs sharpen for a moment. He doesn't seem to like that answer, but he lets it go.
"Very well, are you sure that's the best outfit you've got for this?" He looks at your long-sleeved, long-pants outfit with skepticism.
"It honestly is. I've never been anywhere like Talos before." You tug at your shirt, making sure the air can flow through it when it's warm. "I haven't owned more than a few outfits in years, let alone ones for cold weather."
"Hmmn, it's not that it's terrible, it just seems... insufficient considering the colder areas." He grabs the blanket off the bed and begins to fold it. "Take this, you'll look weird but you'll at least be warm." He tosses it to you and you catch it, tucking it under your arm.
"Skinsuit, I want you to listen to me now. None of this empty-headed, thousand-yard stare, understand me?" His tone is very grave. You nod in agreement to his terms. "Until we come back here, we are not friends, we are not close, you are simply my personal skinsuit. Understand?"
You recoil a little at his words, hurt by the nature of them. You instinctively put your hands up in defense and defeat simultaneously. You don't want to argue. Even if you did, you don't have the energy right now.
"Okay, I understand." You put no inflections in your voice, for now, you're just a runner. A very sullen runner. He locks eyes with you and stares you down, trying to read into your answer and lack of inflections, but eventually relents.
"Alright, go get food. We leave in two hours. The ship taking us isn't going to wait." He instructs demandingly.
You sigh, put the folded blanket back down on the bed, and begin to walk to the exit. The silence is a little deafening, but you make it out the door without issue.
• • • •
You return after a long, boring meal. Most of the volunteers were already working and cleaning by the time you arrived in the cafeteria, so you had no one to talk to. You spent so much time in introspection that now you feel you've sped up your dive into depression by hours. Why did you do that, go and eat breakfast alone? You recognize now you should have just brought it back to your little closet. At least then you could have distracted yourself with... something. Anything, really.
"You almost ready to go?" You hear Revenant address you as you walk in. You nod, and don't make eye contact. You don't even know if he saw your nod. The floor is more interesting at the moment, anyway. Was this vinyl flooring, or some kind of cheap commercial tile?
You make it to your pocket door, and gently shut it behind you, hitting the cheap, short, undeniably hotel-grade carpet that lined your whole little room, spare the bathroom. You look up to find something to occupy your time, but see a mostly uninteresting room. Dammit, how are you supposed to fight falling into a depression like this? They didn't even think to put art on the walls when they made these rooms.
You jolt back to attention as you hear knocks on the pocket door.
"As soon as you're ready I want to head over to the ship. It's a bit of a flight, I'd rather get seats before the rest of the skinsuits show up." You hear him move away from the door as he gives his final orders.
You don't really have much to do. You're as ready as you can be. All you wanted to do was find something happy to look at, but this darn room is all tan and "neutral" walls with no art or anything. Sure, it looks fancy and new and clean, but there is no life to it. It's oppressively perfect.
Wait, you do have one thing that might help.
You slip open the pocket door, quickly make your way to the end table, and nab Artur's feather. Revenant watches you from the computer desk, apparently beginning to notice your odd melancholy. You choose not to address him with eye contact and make your way back to the closet room, closing the door behind you and twirling the feather the whole way. You sit down on the foot of your bed and let your mind wander, finally a safe mental path in front of it.
This feather is more interesting than the whole room. It is soft, silky, undamaged, and twirls in the air when dropped. It is Artur's feather, given specifically to you apparently. Artur is such a nice bird, you didn't know birds were so intelligent both emotionally and logically. Bloodhound and Artur. Your first favorites. So calm, cool, and collected, yet so cunning and instinctive in battle. You think back to all the runs you used to do for them before you started trading for Revenant's requests, they were always so nice and respectful. Even now that you have no way to run their requests for them anymore, they still remember you, and by your scent no less. Although thay last part is a bit strange. Bloodhound absolutely lives up to their name, but also manages to be unbelievably precious and kind-hearted. You'd have never thought to join the volunteer force without someone like them on the field.
There's more knocking at the door and you bounce to your feet in surprise.
"Hey, we're leaving." He says from the other side. You slip the feather into your pocket, just in case you get bored again and the depression starts to bite. You slide open the pocket door, making eye contact with Revenant for the first time since you returned from breakfast. His optics widen a tiny bit at catching your glance.
"You're doing a good job at this act. I was actually convinced for a while there." You want to correct him, but don't. "They won't suspect I'm anything but the usual cold, murderous, and mean simulacrum. I just have a skinsuit slave now." He whips around and leads you towards the door, quite pleased with the situation. "I will say though," He pauses, turns back towards you, and gets his face right up to yours, "I may have to rough you up a little bit. I hope you'll forgive me. It has to be convincing."
You're unfazed. For some reason, you don't care right now. Well, you know the reason you don't care, but it's still quite impressive to have such little self-preservation. His optics grow wide as you remain stoic despite him, until he pulls away from your face to continue to the ship.
"Amazing." You hear him almost whisper. He motions for you to follow and you leave his room, heading towards the launch area.
• • • •
"You sit here, skinsuit." He motions to a seat across and facing his. The ship is set up like a military drop ship where seats stretch across the two sides, facing one another. It reminds you a little of the public transportation buses around the city, but with actual seatbelts. "I want to keep an eye on you."
You nod and sit down, this seat is unusually cut off from the others by a massive wall of boxes strapped to the seats on your left. On the right is the wall separating this back section of the ship from the front areas, putting you deepest in the ship from the hatch in the back. You're happy with the privacy of the seat. If the other legends are coming along, you do not want your presence to cause any kind of a scene.
"Ah, you are here early." You hear a familiar voice through an oxygen mask. "May Artur sit with your apprentice?"
"Sure, I don't care." Revenant answers, keeping his eyes forward in your direction.
"Artur." Bloodhound's arm shifts up and Artur flies over to you. Bloodhound sits next to Revenant, but remains silent and unattentive.
"Aww, Artur!" You cannot help but exclaim aloud as Artur lands on your shoulder, preening your hair. He's such a nice bird, you can't help but smile. The depression is barely a problem now, for the time being anyway. Everything else melts away as you get to pet Artur and watch him play with his feathers. If you wiggle your finger just right he will chase and go to peck it, but he's gentle enough not to hurt you. You love this bird. Maybe you love all birds? Birds are just so cool, Artur especially.
Many other Legends have filed in. Not all of them have shown up, and not all of them will. Some are just content to trust they won't run into issues during the next game. You can't see them all, but you can hear lots from the other side of the boxes. You choose to stay quiet and hidden with Artur, Bloodhound and Revenant being the only ones in your line of sight. They're both sitting there, not talking to anyone or even each other, hunched forward and staring forward. You'd be uncomfortable if either of them had visible eyes, but Bloodhound's goggles hide theirs and Revenant's LEDs make it look as if he's staring through you and not at you.
Suddenly you realize you forgot to bring the blanket. You're pretty much trapped now that the ship is filling up, but you begin to wonder how bad Talos is going to be without it. You start to spiral mentally, chastising yourself for forgetting something so obviously important, pushing your face into your hands without realizing it. Artur gives you a swift few pecks from atop your head, trying to regain your attention. Oh well, there's no helping it now. Did Artur know how you were feeling? You're not sure, but he did help a lot. You go back to giving Artur attention.
You watch as the light is slowly cut off as the drop ship hatch closes, leaving nothing but a dark red glow coming from lights lining the floor and seats. It looks super cool, but it's hard to see Artur as easily now. Revenant's eyes glow uncomfortably bright, and Bloodhound's lenses reflect the red light. Those two are so intimidating.
The ship takes off, and many of the conversations settle down to a muted mumble. You remain quiet, petting Artur as he snuggles into the crook of your arm for the long ride. You're happy for a moment. Maybe once your housing situation changes you should try adopting a bird? Eh, they might not be as cool, but they also might be! You focus on Artur, showering him with affection like he was your own.
• • • •
You wake up to the feeling of the ship hitting the ground, jostling it uncomfortably. Artur coos in your arms, you managed to hold on to him while asleep. How long were you out? Doesn't matter, really, better than a boring trip with no one to talk to. You run your free hand through your hair, making sure leaning against the boxes didn't mess it up.
You see the light flood back into the ship as the back hatch opens, and the other Legend's voices fade as they leave. Bloodhound and Revenant stay silent, unmoving, and ignore the others. Have they really been sitting there without exchanging any other words? They sit motionless for what feels like a full minute, the voices and sounds of all other life now faded into the distance. You stare at them both, uncomfortable.
"Um--"
"Shut it, skinsuit." Revenant shuts you down almost instantaneously, and takes over breaking the silence himself. He turns to Bloodhound. "Call back your bird."
Bloodhound inhales deeply before speaking.
"Artur." They hold up their arm, and Artur immediately makes the short flight across the ship to reclaim his favorite perch. Bloodhound stands up, but doesn't leave the ship. They turn as if to address Revenant, but simply stares for a moment.
"Do you have a problem?" Revenant growls at him, clearly unable to determine what Bloodhound may be thinking.
"Not yet." Bloodhound's airy voice leaks through their mask. "What is the nature of your apprentice?"
"None of your damn business." Revenant stands up to tower over Bloodhound, but they show no signs of fear, continuing to keep eyes locked on his.
"I do not believe you." Bloodhound is stoic, unaffected by any amount of intimidation. His words seem not to be a direct answer to Revenant's previous statement, but rather to something unspoken.
Revenant turns away and moves towards you, enough to grab your arm with a crushing grip, dragging you towards the exit and ignoring Bloodhound further. Bloodhound follows, releasing Artur to the skies once through the exit.
Talos smells like so many things all at once. Sulfur wafts through the air probably due to the volcanic activity, the sun shines hard on the planet. Despite sulfur being quite putrid, it's fairly diluted by what is otherwise fresh and crisp air. The air is cold, but warm breezes keep blowing over you. The surrounding area is very beautiful, you see lava flows in one direction and buildings in the other. Beyond the buildings is what appears to be a massive structure of ice. You've seen it on television, but it's not the same as in person, even if from a distance.
"Alright skinsuit, we're going to hit the outer areas. I need you to stick close by." Revenant's grip hurts, but he did warn you it may be necessary.
"I will be following." Bloodhound states, causing Revenant to immediately turn in a frenzy to catch his gaze.
"No you will not." Revenant's grip begins to hurt as his rage boils over. You whimper aloud at the pain, but he doesn't yield, even though you feel his fingers tremble in uncertainty.
"You cannot stop me." Bloodhound doesn't load their words with extra emotion or adjectives when addressing Revenant.
Revenant hesitates.
"Why?" Revenant's voice has changed to something more calm and collected. His grip loosens, hurting less.
"Answer my previous question honestly, and I will not pursue you." Bloodhound skips the question and gets to the point.
Revenant hesitates again, letting go of your arm. You immediately get to nursing the bruise.
"This," Revenant grabs you by the back of your neck and drags you in front of him, presenting you in front of Bloodhound, "...belongs to me. That is the nature of my so-called 'apprentice'."
It's scary to be held by your neck. One side is your throat, the other is your spine. Right now, your spine is absolutely aflame with adrenaline, even if it doesn't hurt to be held up like this. Maybe it hurts and you can't feel it yet? You're not sure. Your legs are barely holding you up, the fear keeps them from locking into place properly. Even if they could lock, you're almost an inch off the ground, so only your toes can touch the ground. You begin to hyperventilate, and you get a head high from the adrenaline and oxygen.
"I see. I wish to continue this conversation later." Bloodhound breaks eye contact with Revenant, and immediately takes off in a sprint towards the buildings. What did they see? Why were they satisfied with that answer?
Revenant puts you down on the ground carefully, your legs still refusing to hold you up. You try to catch your breath.
"Get up. I don't trust they're gone, but we don't have time to waste." You guess he is going to keep being distant and uncaring just in case. You try to stand, collapsing on a few attempts before finally getting to your feet and beginning to follow him over to the nearest bunker. He stops short in front of the door.
"Open the door."
Weird. But sure. You open the door for him and stand to hold it open.
"Now, search the room for any loose object that could be tripping hazards. Touch every panel and button on the computer inputs. And then let me know when you're done."
What the heck? Well, you guess it's worth keeping your mind occupied. Depression hasn't won yet.
Revenant leans against the wall as you look for anything, touching all the panels and buttons. Not really much to be had. Your hands feel a bit gross though, who knows who last touched those buttons?
"Done." You barely manage to say before he grabs you again, walks you through the hallway to another room.
"Repeat." He demands as he leans against the wall again.
Oh boy, this is going to be a long day.
• • • •
"I'm actually not sure how much longer I can do this." You finally speak up. You're wearing very thin. What started as a fine distraction has spiralled into a mundane and depressive task. Wanting to die was slowly becoming a problem.
"Come again?" Revenant growls.
"I've searched every place you've asked, touched every keyboard panel, pushed every button, climbed every building, walked through every hallway, and done every weird thing you asked, but... I'm really tired, and I don't think I can or should keep going." You sigh, looking up at the sky, the sun now beginning to set.
"We're not done. We have a few more hours left."
"Hours?!" You exasperatedly sigh and let yourself fall to your knees. "I can't..."
He growls impatiently at you.
"Then we will do it this way." He grabs you by the back of your shirt and begins dragging you across the floor of the current building. Your shirt begins to choke you and your body panics from being left so vulnerable.
"Stop!" He doesn't stop. You have to scream louder. "Please!" He responds to that, stopping and letting go of you. You sit back upright, pulling your shirt back into the correct position. You can't take this. It's all to much. Depression is winning again.
You fight back the tears, only a few slipping by. But enough for him to take notice. Revenant kneels down to meet you.
"I'm sorry." A single hand on your shoulder. "I can take care of the rest myself, but..." He hesitates.
"But what...?" You try not to sob.
"I'll need an article of your clothing." He seems a bit embarrassed to ask.
You're just happy to have an out. You immediately take off your shirt and shove it in his direction, refusing to look up at him. You won't look at him, not like this. You just stare at the ground. He doesn't take it immediately. He might be looking at you, you're not sure, but you hunch forward to hide yourself better, just in case. A bra certainly is enough clothing for now, but it's still uncomfortable to have anyone's judgemental eyes on you. After a few long seconds, he takes the shirt.
"Stay here, I'll be back soon. Just sleep if you're tired." You hear him shuffling somehow. "Take this." You feel a cloth drape over your shoulders as his untied scarf wraps around you. You pull it around you and go to look up, but he's already gone.
You scoot yourself into a corner you can lean into to sleep, and wrap the scarf around you as much as you can. It's much longer and wider than it looks when it's on his head, and even moreso when it's contrasted against your stature instead of his. It's no shirt though, but at least you won't feel too exposed with it on you. What was this dumb plan of his, anyway? None of it made sense.
Finally alone, you cry freely. It's been a rough day. Heck, it's been a rough couple of days. It's been hard on your body, and the stress has been piling up. Nobody likes to descend from mania back into depression, but ideations and intrusive thoughts are inevitable with you. You dab your eyes with the scarf, hoping it's not rude to do so. You snuggle into the corner of the room, and cry until you're as emotionally exhausted as you are physically, eventually crying yourself to sleep.
• • • •
"Welcome back, little skinsuit." You hear as you slowly wake up from your nap. You feel a tightening around your chest as Revenant finishes tying the scarf taut around your torso in the back. "This will have to do for now." You stay quiet, getting reacclimated to your surroundings.
"I'll clean your shirt when we get back. We should be the last ones out of here, so we should have the ship to ourselves." He hoists you to your feet from behind and tugs at the knot to ensure it stays. "I hope."
You openly sigh, just exhausted. You're not sure how far of a walk back to the ship it is, but you're not sure you can make it. You'd rather just die than make the walk, it's too much. You start to spiral internally, so you pull Artur's feather out of your pocket and begin to twirl it, focusing on it as much as possible.
"Are you listening...?" Revenant cannot seem to hold your attention, and it seems to be beginning to concern him. You nod, still playing with the feather. "It's just a little bit longer, anyway."
You begin walking towards the door of the bunker, hoping he will get in front of you to lead you in the right direction. His hand lands on your shoulder, holding you in place just long enough for him to do so, and you follow him. He's holding your shirt, covered in dirt and grime. What was this plan? You're not sure that amount of dirt will ever come out.
• • • •
"Dammit, you've got to be kidding me." You hear Revenant grumble under his breath as you approach the ship after quite the walk. He turns his head sideways, enough for his eyes to lock onto you walking behind him. "Let me handle this."
You hear the flap of wings suddenly above you, but too late to react to Artur landing on your bare shoulder. Revenant ignores Artur and begins walking faster towards the ship, leaving you both behind to catch up.
Artur takes his feather from your fingers, preening it with his beak and talon before carefully sticking it back in your hair. You smile, despite your depression. This bird. Artur coos and preens your hair as you make your way towards the ship, pulling out loose hairs. As you walk up, you hear the conversation between Bloodhound and Revenant is midway.
"You are not as clever as you believe." Bloodhound's voice comes into audible territory. "You treat your apprentice with cruelty as an act, but the trust between you gives you away."
"Nothing about me is an act. When I say jump, people jump. They know what happens if they don't." Revenant voice drips with anger, but also desperation, something you hope Bloodhound cannot sense.
"And how many victims of your slaughter have accepted being held by their neck? No protest, no squirming, no pleading?" You get close to reaching them, and Bloodhound is staring straight up at Revenant's huge, towering mass, no fear apparent. "Unless your apprentice is like us, the trust and fearlessness is uncanny."
"My 'apprentice' has no fear of death." He mocks the term, loading it full of sarcastic inflection, but simultaneously it sounds like a brag.
Bloodhound looks to you, and you instinctively pull your arms to your chest, trying to hide anything that the scarf and bra inadequately reveals. Bloodhound's goggles glint as their head tilts to react to your new outfit.
"Then why do I see evidence of kindness between you?" Bloodhound returns their gaze to Revenant, who is now a bit taken aback. "You need not tell me the details. Just do not treat your apprentice like prey to convince me of an obvious lie."
Revenant refuses to answer them further, choosing instead to lock them in a glare that makes you uncomfortable as a bystander. Bloodhound's arm comes up, and Artur makes a short flight to it, giving you a lovely caw goodbye after landing. With Artur at their side, they go back into the ship and sit in the same spot as before. You all are the only ones left catching a flight home. Bloodhound must have waited until the last ship back to catch you.
Revenant grabs your arm, gently this time, and motions for you to sit on the opposite side of the ship from Bloodhound and close to the hatch, as far away from his newfound rival as possible. He sits next to you, ensuring his body blocks Bloodhound's line of sight to you. He is growling under his breath in some kind of frustration. You can specifically make out a single phrase: "wait until the match" is clear to you.
• • • •
The flight takes a while. Long enough for you to start spiralling mentally again. You try to twirl Artur's feather in your fingers again, but Revenant's whole chassis tenses when you try to hold it, so you put it away for now. He's very angry, but you're not entirely sure why he is so concerned over his image with Bloodhound. Their fights are almost as legendary as the ones between Loba and Revenant, but for completely different reasons. Revenant and Bloodhound have some kind of understanding that in the off chance they are the only contenders left they will fight to the death with no guns. Only Bloodhound's axe and knives against Revenant's bulk and arms. It's only happened twice in the entire history of the games, but both events are still talked about to this day. If there is anything to top the "Loba the Scalper" moment, it would be another Bloodhound versus Revenant battle. Maybe that was the plan?
Either way, it doesn't concern you. Your body hurts. You are so tired. You aren't feeling great. Depression is winning again, and there is nothing you can do to fight it without potentially upsetting Revenant. All you want to do is feel better. You're not sure how to fight the thoughts flooding your head right now, but they're all telling you that you're not worth feeling better, that Revenant doesn't care about you, that you're too insignificant to matter to anyone, and that nobody should care about you anyway.
Your face falls into your hands. You want to cry, but you can't let anyone notice. So you play it off as if you're tired, letting off an exasperated fake yawn, which quickly becomes very real. You're tired, but you know no matter how much you sleep you will always be tired under depression's grasp. If you think about it, depression is even scarier than Revenant. Revenant may threaten to take all your organs for his personal collection, but depression makes you want him to. Depression makes you want to die. It makes you consider doing it yourself, even. A couple tears make it into your hands, but you keep yourself from making any sounds or unexplained movements. Nobody seems to notice, thankfully.
The ship jostles as it touches down, and a single tear escapes, landing on your pants and making a small, cool droplet mark. Ever vigilant, you hear Revenant's voice make a humming noise, apparently noticing it, but he says nothing more. You refuse to take your hands away from your face, trying to contain any remaining tears.
The hatch opens, and as soon as it does, Revenant grabs your arm and hoists you to your feet against your intent, immediately pulling you to leave.
"Let's go." is all he says as he drags you away, your legs barely keeping pace. Your right arm is pried away from your face, but you keep your left hand up to hide it. You hope no one sees you wrapped in his scarf. It is late, maybe no one is around, but your hopes are quickly dashed as soon as you hear chatter around the corner in the hallway again. You instinctively resist Revenant's pulling, at which he stops.
"What's wrong?"
You pull your left hand from your face, and his expression stiffens as he sees you.
"I don't want anyone to see me like this." You're not sure if you're referring to the scarf, your crying face, or both.
Revenant's stature changes from shock to determination.
"Get back in the ship, you left that blanket, right? I'll go get it. You can cover yourself with that." He turns his attention to Bloodhound, who is just about to leave the ship. "You." Bloodhound's head tilts up to meet him. "Please..." He catches on that word and barely gets it out, "Guard the ship. Don't let anyone in until I get back."
Bloodhound makes a strange chuckling-like noise from behind their oxygen mask.
"Very well!" Bloodhound exclaims as you pass them and move into the back of the ship, hiding yourself.
Revenant takes off swiftly, climbing the wall and moving into the vent system to not attract attention to his urgency.
The silence settles for a moment as you cover yourself with your hands, tears flowing more freely now. Artur flies over and rests on your head, but Bloodhound remains vigilant at the door.
"You are distressed." Bloodhound finally addresses you, but doesn't turn away from the door. "But it is not from Revenant. You trust him, clearly. What ails you?"
"Just depression. I'll be fine. I just have to deal." You try putting on a tough act, you know it's not that easy. "That, and the embarrassment of not having a shirt."
"Ah, I see." Bloodhound seems satisfied that the pieces to the puzzle are lining up in their head now. "You should tell him about that. It's important."
You think about it for a moment. You haven't told Revenant how you're feeling at all. You're honestly a bit embarrassed by your mood swings, and it's not always easy for someone to understand how depression works. You have no idea how he will react. He's already seen you crying, but he probably had no clue why. To be fair the only answer you have is 'depression', which isn't very satisfactory to anyone.
"Incoming." Bloodhound says from the door as Artur takes off from your head, escaping the blanket wad unravelling in the air above your head. It lands on you, completely covering you. It's super large, which is infinitely better than a tiny scarf. You hear Revenant's footsteps come up to you from under the blanket.
"Thank you." Revenant's voice is aimed towards Bloodhound, and you hear their footsteps walking away, at least not verbally acknowledging the thanks. "Now, you." He pulls your head out of the blanket and wraps it around you like a giant cape. "Let's talk when we get back to the room. Cover your face if you're worried about the tears." He readjusts the blanket to include a hood with enough room to pull your face in, which you do. "I'll lead you, don't worry about looking where you're going."
He places his hand on your back and coaxes you up. He pulls his hand around your back and to your shoulder, pulling you up against him. He leads you forward slowly but surely. The hallways are empty now, most people have gone to the cafeteria now for dinner. It's an easy walk.
You feel your feet make it over the threshold to his room and the door shuts behind you. You pull the blanket away from your face and toss it onto the bed, sitting on the end of the bed soon after it. You try to reach behind you to loosen the scarf, but you can't find how it's bound to you.
"Let me." He sits behind you and loosens the scarf, getting it off completely. You hear him breathe deeply as it comes off, but you're not sure why. He takes a moment to press his fingers into your back and along your bra strap, but they're cold enough to make you wince away.
"Ah, sorry." He doesn't sound sorry, but he ties his scarf back on his head, stands up, and grabs your shirt off the bed. "I'm going to get this washed for you, but first..." He leans down and takes your face in his hands, bringing his face mere centimeters from yours, "what was all that crying about? It's actually not an act, now is it?"
His breath flows out of his nasal cavity and onto your chin. His optics are locked to yours, widening to try to comfort you. His fingers lightly stroke your face. You feel your face turn hot, but the truth gets caught in your throat.
"I'll be okay, I don't mean for you to worry," you whisper, practically silent.
"That's not what I asked." he almost growls in a whisper back to you. You feel your face turn hotter.
"So," his voice is soft and alluring, you're sure your face is giving you away, "what were those tears about, little skinsuit?"
You whimper before you can give an answer, and he chuckles openly at your bashfulness.
"I didn't scare you too much, did I?" He asks poignantly. "Or work you too hard?"
"N-no! Well, maybe a little, but it's fine." You try to quell any fears he might have. "I have..." you trail off, not actually wanting to say.
He pulls your face forward and puts his mouth to your ear.
"Say it." His breath hits your ear and you audibly but quietly scream, stifling it as best as you can. It still slips out and he seems a bit taken aback, but also very amused. He chuckles as he pulls his face back and looks at your expression. It must be pretty telling. "I feel like I'm just locking you up more, aren't I? But at least you're not crying anymore."
You laugh a smidgen at his sudden break in character and your own awkwardness.
"Don't worry, you can tell me when I get back." He releases you and makes his way out of the room, leaving you on the bed with your red face.
Now that the room is empty, you can say it out loud.
"Bipolar. So I get depressed sometimes." It still sounds so bad, even when there's no one to hear it. Even in this day and age, some words still sound so taboo and can make people scared of you right away. Mental health terms tend to land in those categories. Especially ones like 'bipolar'. People always assume manic-depressive folks are unhinged and wild and should be avoided, so you usually keep as much of it to yourself as possible. You'd even go as far to keep track of which people knew which side of you, and isolate yourself strategically to prevent each person from meeting the 'other side' until they could be trusted. You hear the door open again.
"I hope I picked the right setting. Hot water with detergent."
"Yeah, bipolar with manic-depressive tendencies is fine." You failed to switch subjects in your head properly. You catch yourself way too late to recover.
"Oh." He seems a bit floored by your clearly accidental confession. He closes the door behind him, walks over and sits next to you. He hesitates, not sure how to approach the situation. "Are you okay?"
"I guess so, it's just a constant struggle." You mumble aloud, still very embarrassed.
"Does anything help?" He stares at the empty screen of the television in front of you.
"I'm not sure. Usually any amount of kindness or affection can help a little. It's usually because anything that upsets me can turn into a spiral." You try not to put any unnecessary emotion in your voice. You just want it to be clear you're being honest about it to the best of your ability. "I spiral if I get bored. I spiral if I'm left alone. I spiral if someone upsets me. I spiral if I think too hard. I spiral if I mess something up." You pause for a moment, trying to come up with a metaphor. "It's like trying to walk through a field full of landmines."
"I see... I feel like I might understand that a little bit." Revenant also keeps emotion out of his voice. "But, you're not always like this, now are you?"
"No, I can swing the opposite way. I can be manic and practically get high off of air itself. It's like pure joy to the point in which I become reckless and fidgety. That was me a few days ago."
"And that's how you ended up on my doorstep?"
"Yeah."
He finally moves and wraps his cold arms around you and pulls you close, intentionally breathing deeply to rattle his lung pumps like a purr.
"Does this help at all?" You don't answer him. You just lean in to his body. "I'll figure this out. Just tell me if anything I do makes it worse." You nod into his chest. He pauses, contemplating. "Do you want to sleep?"
"Yeah, depression makes me tired all the time. But sometimes trying to get to sleep makes me spiral due to boredom..." You mumble the last bit.
"Interesting, I think I have a plan for that also." He releases you and stands up, leaving you nearly to fall over from leaning in too much, but you catch yourself. "Don't squirm."
He nabs you, one of his arms slips behind your back, bracing you, as the opposite arm scoops under your legs to lift you up. You feel your face flush again as he lifts you up. You stare into his optics, completely at a loss. His eyes refuse to meet yours, but his peripheral vision probably gives him a sense that you're staring.
"So, you like this? You like being held?" He almost seems proud of himself, as if this was some roundabout brag. Your answer catches in your thoat and comes out as a short, shy whine. You pull your arms against your chest, trying to calm your breathing a bit. "Hmmn, I thought so. Can't be bored if you're paying attention to me."
He carries you over near the door and flips off the light switch, leaving only the moon above to provide light through the skylight. He carries you to the bed and lays you down, belly down. He vaults over your body, landing himself sitting next to you on the bed. You turn your head to meet his gaze.
"You know, it's rude to stare." He teases, making a motion with his hands as if to crack his knuckles. You have no response, you're caught like a deer in his LEDs. "You willing to trust me?"
What an odd question. The only reason you were around is because you trusted him, right? Or maybe you didn't really care what happened to you? When you decided to stay, you remember thinking that you wanted to know where this goes. Is that trust? Or is it a wanton disregard for your own safety? Or both?
A cold and sharp finger presses into your forehead, square between your eyebrows, bringing you back to attention.
"To be fair, I wouldn't know how to tell you to answer either." He chuckles and pushes his sharpened claw into your forehead deeper, but instead of pain you feel clearer, somehow. "Even you don't know if I'll gut you or not, huh? But you still stay. Such a good little skinsuit." Your face turns warm and tingling, probably blushing again. You intend to turn away and bury your face in a pillow to hide, but his finger is so deeply pressed in that it blocks you from moving. It would scratch and tear your skin if you force it. The tip of his talon almost feels like it has broken skin, but it doesn't hurt like it has. You're not sure what's going on, but you feel calmer. "Still so shy, but your face gives you away."
He pulls his finger away, and you feel your flesh stick to it until his talon is too far for the skin to stretch. It was a strange sensation. Did he actually puncture you?
"It may bleed a little, but you should feel better." You put your finger to your head to feel the spot, but it doesn't feel wet and it doesn't hurt. He must have gotten beneath the skin because you feel a small hole. "Now don't squirm or I might miss."
He reaches towards you again. Even though you intend to flinch, his words keep you from moving. Instead, you bury your face in a pillow as defense, leaving the rest of you as bait. He seems to hover his hands over you for a moment, giving you time to hide your face.
"What did I just say!? What if I was going for your head?" He sounds like he's leaning more towards teasing than actual chiding, but he growls with a certain aggressiveness that resonates through his chassis. You feel his palms wrap around the back of each of your shoulders, sharpened thumbs pressing up against the wells of your shoulders. His remaining fingers wrap around near your clavicle to anchor his thumbs in. Then he pushes, and his thumbs definitely penetrate your skin. Again, no pain, but you feel a strange and almost unwelcome relief come over you. You feel minor concern over your inability to feel the pain you expect, but as soon as the concern appears, it disappears. You feel yourself sink in to the bed, as if you only now succumbed to relaxing completely. You feel yourself breathe deeply and happily.
"You skinsuits really are funny. Hard to believe I used to be one." You couldn't even muster up the tension in your body to ask about that. "I can literally stab little holes in you and you'll still melt for me." He growls on the term 'melt' and you feel the hairs stand on the back of your neck. "Acupuncture is quite the weakness for you skinsuits."
His thumbs pull out of your shoulder wells, once again the flesh clinging to them a little insistently. His palms brush over the holes he inevitably left. He pushes a soft, blunt finger into each, just long enough to ensure you don't tense up or squirm. When you don't stir, he seems satisfied.
"Bet you can't think about much of anything with how lethargic you're acting." He goaded you to argue, but you couldn't. "Can't be sad when I'm here, teasing your little life." You felt a ton of weight settle on your lower back, but not enough to crush you, as his two legs settled on either side of your waist. He was holding up a lot of his own weight with his vaulted heel-sit, but there was enough weight on your back to pin you down. You couldn't see him, but you felt your embarrassment burn in your face while buried in your pillow. A clawed hand wrapped around your throat from the right, but it only barely pressed in, just enough to massage your windpipe. "So how sad are you now?" His face must be right against your left ear, as the air of his breathing hits it.
You squirm a little, unable to contain yourself, squeaking a little into the pillow, but refusing to unbury your face. He laughs openly at you, pulling his face back and retracting his hand from your throat.
"Glad to have your endorsement." His claws cup around the conch of your ears, a single finger pricking into a point at the front of the cusp. No pain, just relief. It feels like a drug: near-instant calmness. You can hear some kind of vocalization come from him, something between a sigh and a growl. It sounded proud, if that was possible.
"I have complete control of this situation." He finally mumbles. "Nothing can hide you from me, not anything." His volume increases, but his seriousness and depth remains stark. "Not even your own demons. I'm stronger than all of it." His words send adrenaline down your spine, but the dampening calmness prevents you from moving.
"They call this one 'the heavenly gate' point." He returns to addressing you directly. "Based on how your vitals are doing, it must live up to the name." Answering takes too much effort. You barely let out a sigh that comes off more like a moan. He chuckles at your inability to answer. He disengages your ears, once again putting a little pressure on the points to ensure there was no reason for concern. You almost want to beg him to prick your ears again just to be flushed by relaxation again.
"Give me your hands." You relent immediately, and he pulls your arms behind you as if you were about to be cuffed. It's a bit awkward, but you know it will be worthwhile. He once again pricks holes in the webbing between your thumbs and pointer fingers on each hand, digging a bit deep. "Don't squirm, this one can hurt if I'm not careful." It doesn't hurt, but you remain deathly still just in case. "This one is called 'the union valley' point." He sounds smug over his knowledge. As the claws sink in, you feel your spine relax and your neck muscles loosen. You feel a small head high as well, but it might be from the whole situation rather than this specific puncture point. "I looked into acupuncture after our first meeting." The first one? That early? "Something told me you would be coming back, and I needed to know how to calm you down."
You lay there: dumbfounded, grateful, impressed, humbled, and happy. The only way he could ever get back his demonic demeanor with you now is to gut you, and even then you suspect you'd still trust him throughout your final exhale. You want to squirm, you want to speak, you want to hug him, but none if it is possible.
"Don't worry, I hear your heartbeat," he responds to your predicament as if he could read your thoughts, "you couldn't hide your giddy approval from me even if you wanted." He releases your pressure points, then pinches your wrists, pushing his thumb tips into the nook where your forearm bones begin to separate."This is called your 'inner frontier'." He presses in, and another wave of relaxation calms you again. He carefully guides your hands down to your sides, so you're more comfortable. He lingers until he is pleased with your level of lethargy. It's either been whole hours or mere minutes, but you don't want him to stop no matter what. Alas, he finally withdraws his touch, carefully inspecting the holes before deeming them safe.
You can't be bothered to move. You're mere minutes from sleep, and there is no sorrow left in your body.
"Hmmn..." You hear him mumble from behind you. "I think this might be better than any corpse I've ever seen..." His hand caresses your back, specifically touching the ridges down your spine. "Beautiful..." He definitely thinks you're asleep, he wouldn't say anything so directly to you. You feel his breath hit your neck, and his hand and arm gently force their way under your body around your chest and belly. "So warm..." He whispers so softly as to not wake you. You feel the weight lift off your back and shift to his knees on both sides of you, before he pivots to land on his side, taking you with him. You jolt with surprise at being suddenly shifted onto your side. You jolt yet again at the realization that he's basically spooning you.
"Awake again, little skinsuit?" He taunts in your ear, wholly unaware that you knew what he said before. "Don't worry, fall back asleep." His whisper sounds predatory and calming at the same time. His hand caresses your belly through your shirt, and his other hand presses against your chest as if to listen to your heart. His legs pull upwards to meet your fetal position. His face nuzzles against the back of your head. "Fall back asleep..." He almost sounds as if he could fall asleep himself.
You relent to his wishes, letting him hold you as you mind drifts away yet again.
#apex legends#apex revenant#revenant#creative writing#fanfiction#fanfic#revenant x reader#female reader#fluff#romance#apex legends revenant#my fanfic#my fanfiction#non canon#smut#almost smut#comfort writing#tw: dom#tw: violence#tw: nightmares#tw: mania#tw: sharp#tw: threats#tw: depression#tw: pain#TW: graphic content#tw: bipolar
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BEER HAS BEEN AN ESSENTIAL aspect of human existence for at least 4,000 years—and women have always played a central role in its production. But as beer gradually moved from a cottage industry into a money-making one, women were phased out through a process of demonization and character assassination.
It’s telling that the oldest-known beer recipe comes from a Sumerian hymn to the goddess of beer, Ninkasi. It also includes a description of how the fermented beverage was made in ancient times:
[…]It is you who bake the beerbread in the big oven, and put in order the piles of hulled grain. Ninkasi, it is you who bake the beerbread in the big oven, and put in order the piles of hulled grain.
It is you who soak the malt in a jar; the waves rise, the waves fall. Ninkasi, it is you who soak the malt in a jar; the waves rise, the waves fall.
It is you who spread the cooked mash on large reed mats; coolness overcomes. Ninkasi, it is you who spread the cooked mash on large reed mats; coolness overcomes [....]
Sumerian women brewed low-alcohol beer for religious ceremonies (including ones dedicated to Ninkasi) as well as for daily food rations. Ancient Egyptians worshipped a beer goddess named Tenenet, and hieroglyphics have been found depicting women brewing and drinking beer. Baltic and Slavic mythology both include a goddess, named Raugutiene, who provided protection over beer. And the Finnish told of a legendary woman named Kalevatar who invented beer by mixing honey with bear saliva.
Egyptian hieroglyphics depict women pouring beer. PUBLIC DOMAIN
The image of the woman as ale-maker persisted well into the Middle Ages, moving from a sacred role to an everyday necessity of homemaking, historically typified as “women’s work.” Water in cities was unsanitary, at times bringing with it deadly diseases. But the process of fermentation created a sterile drink, so beer was considered a safer option. Most ale was very low-alcohol level, while more potent ales were reserved for special occasions such as holidays and weddings. So even before the year 1500, nearly all women in England knew how to brew.
Making beer is difficult and time-consuming in any age. But given that a typical medieval family of five might have needed roughly 9 gallons of beer to subsist per week, and said beer spoiled quickly, women had to get creative. They then began sharing the workload with friends and neighbors, a system that often involved one woman making extra each week to sell to other households. As this culture of shared work evolved, some women in England began making ale more professionally, with some providing a constant flow of it for sale. Occasionally, these women might open makeshift bars located in their own homes, where people could sit together and drink. And so the term “alewife” (or “brewster”) emerged, referring to a woman who brewed beer for a small profit.
Professional brewsters and alewives had several means of identifying themselves and promoting their businesses. They wore tall hats to stand out on crowded streets. To signify that their homes or taverns sold ale, they would place broomsticks—a symbol of domestic trade—outside of the door. Cats often scurried around the brewsters’ bubbling cauldrons, killing the mice that liked to feast on the grains used for ale.
If all of this sounds familiar, it’s because this is all iconography that we now associate with witches. While there’s no definitive historical proof that modern depictions of witches were modeled after alewives, some historians see uncanny similarities between brewsters and anti-witch propaganda. One such example exists in a 17th-century woodcut of a popular alewife, Mother Louise, who was well-known in her time for making excellent beer.
Mother Louise, a popular alewife. FÆ / CC BY 4.0
While the relationship between alewives and witch imagery has still yet to be proven, we do know for sure that alewives and brewsters had a bad reputation from the jump. Beyond the cheating that some of their counterparts engaged in, brewsters also had to deal with the bad rap their entire gender suffered because of original sin. “The ale trade was (and is) filled with trickery—poor ale substituted for good, pint measures that were just a bit too small, inflated prices, and of course, inebriated customers who found they’d been robbed or cheated,” explains Dr. Judith Bennet, author of Ale, Brewsters, and Beer in England: Women’s Work in a Changing World 1300-1600. “For medieval people, it was easy to link these deceptions with women. Were not women, as daughters of Eve, naturally more deceptive and wicked than men? By such logic, any alewife, no matter how friendly and open, was suspected of being a secret swindler.”
The medieval Church was also not a fan of brewsters. They saw these early female entrepreneurs as temptresses who used their wiles to get pious men drunk and spend money. The Church also saw alehouses as playgrounds for the devil, where the cardinal sins of gluttony and lust ruled supreme.
Furthermore, as Bennet notes, one of the most iconic images of feminine evil in the Middle Ages was that of the alewife in hell: The Church specifically taught that alewives would be the only people left in hell after Christ freed all the damned. “Enacted in plays, drawn on the walls of parish churches, and carved into wood, it was a fate that medieval people imagined with resentful glee,” Bennet details.
The Church equated alewives with damnation. PROJECT GUTENBERG
Brewsters’ bad reputation didn’t help their case when wealthier, more socially-connected men started taking up the trade. After the devastation of the Black Plague, people began drinking a lot more ale, doing so in public alehouses instead of at home. This also marked a shift in people’s relationship with beer, which moved from being just a necessity and occasional indulgence to something closer to what we have today. Men suddenly saw they could make a real profit off of what was once seen as a semi-lucrative side gig for women. So they built taverns that were bigger and cleaner than the makeshift ones that alewives provided, and people flocked to them to revel and conduct business alike. Over time, alewives grew to be seen not only as tricky, but also dirty and their beer unsanitary.
Women continued to make low-alcohol ale for their family’s daily consumption after the Industrial Revolution increased production methods, which made buying beer cheaper and easier than making it at home. But that died in the 1950s and 1960s, when marketing campaigns branded beer as a “manly drink.” Companies such as Schlitz, Heineken, and Budweiser depicted beer as a means of unwinding after a long day of work, often featuring women serving their suited-up husbands cold bottles of brew.
That’s been a factor in why the contemporary brewing industry is a notorious boy’s club, but the craft beer industry has helped moved the needle a bit: A 2014 Auburn University study found that women represented 29% of all brewery workers. It seems that the brewing industry has taken a circuitous route, moving away from small homebrewing methods to large-scale production, and back again. These days, the sky’s the limit for brewsters. They don’t even have to ride broomsticks to get there.
Recommended additional reading: How Women Brewsters Saved the World by Tara Nurin
#it is no coincidence that the witchcraze of Europe was worst in Germany began in 1500 and the beer purity law enacted in 1516#beer brewing#atlas obscura#feminist witch#feminism#witchblr#women's history#history of beer#divine female#goddess worship#hildegard von bingen#ninkasi#tenenit#brewster#craft beer#witch history
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(image description: eight sketchbook drawings of characters holding a variety of pride flags, all nude and posed in ways that match some old fine art pieces. The nudity has been censored with cute digital flower stickers. end description.)
Characters:
Dalmar, intersex man. Kouto, nonbinary. Chacha, agender. Parva, nonbinary. Xulic and Kidron, genderqueer. Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, genderqeer. Olli, demiguy. Sajak, genderqueer.
Genderqueer is kind of my default for "well, biologically and culturally, they already don't have binary sex or gender, so they kinda default to genderqueer." And I know maybe some people will be bothered by that, but it's just part of the worldbuilding I've written around all these non-human and frequently non-mammalian species of people.
The uncensored version is on my Patreon page. I do have one more drawing to add to this series, but since it's four child characters I will not need to worry about adding any censors and keeping the original image only on my patreon, as they will simply be wearing their pride flags as whole outfits.
The previous part of this, my binary trans characters, can be found over here.
detailed character descriptions and explanations of the pose references under the cut
Dalmar Ubora, a black intersex elf man with short black hair. He is holding his arms up as he holds the intersex flag, mimicking the pose of Virgin Mary from Titian's painting "The Assumption of the Virgin". The shading was washed out by the photo, but his belly is still clearly round from pregnancy. Dalmar is an interesting case, in that he was assigned male at birth based on his outward appearance, continues to identify as male throughout his life, but finds during puberty that what was believed to be an undeveloped penis was actually just a non functional body part. Instead, what actually developed to full functionality was his uterus. He still identifies as a straight cis man, and has come to terms with his body. He is married to a medically transitioned trans woman, and he could undergo operations to change his body if he wanted to. Instead, he has embraced his body and even birthed some children who were conceived via sperm donations. This is why I wanted a Mary pose for him, and this painting in particular is about Mary being welcomed into heaven as a blessed holy woman. Dalmar may not be a miraculous holy figure, but there is a reverence in the way he has come to love his body and chosen to bear children, including the surrogate birth of his brother's child.
Kouto Hayashi-Loryck, a slender nonbinary elf with black hair tied into a bun. They are holding the nonbinary flag and standing in the pose of a statue known as "Apollo Belvedere", which is so old no one knows the artist's name. One arm raised, one lowered, legs in the relaxed contrapposto pose. Kouto is an artist and an art model. Apollo is a god of the arts, and regarded as a beautiful and sexual figure. Kouto is bisexual and admittedly a very sexual and flirtatious person. They did settle into a happy marriage though (actually they are Dalmar's in-law and the sperm donor for the aforementioned surrogate birth.) Marriage has not stopped Kouto's flirtations, merely limited their targets to a singular person. It felt right to give him this pose, from a pretty well known portrayal of Apollo. Beauty, art, and sex, all defining traits of Apollo and Kouto alike, all present in a pose where the figure seems to be reaching for something above them.
Chacha Faraji, an agender black elf with short hair. They are facing away from the viewer, seated on a stool that is covered by the draped agender flag. No physical traits that could betray their agab are visible. Chacha is sitting in the pose of Reubens' painting "Venus at the Mirror". The arm closest to the viewer ends at the elbow, while they hold a mirror in front of their face with their one whole arm. Their face is seen reflected, smiling, little wrinkles visible by their eyes. I chose this painting in part because it did allow me to obscure Chacha's agab. They were my first nonbinary character, and I never really settled on an agab. But also, I enjoy putting characters who have unconventional bodies into poses associated with Venus or Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. Chacha is missing half an arm, they are getting older and it shows in the wrinkles on their face. Chacha is also Aromantic and Asexual, the full queer triple A battery. The mirror pose has become an independence of beauty. "Look but don't touch." Chacha is beautiful, and they do not need to be beautiful for anyone but themself.
Parva Turbatus, a white nonbinary elf with shoulder length curly hair that has been shaved down on the far side of their head. They are holding the nonbinary flag, standing in the slightly closed off pose found in Paul Gariot's painting "Pandora's Box". One hand on their chest, one hand held out to hold the flag. They have top surgery scars on their chest and a c-section scar on their navel, though all of these have unfortunately been hidden by the flower censors. I chose a pandora pose for Parva because they have one of the most intense tragic backstories of any of my characters. Like Pandora opening the box, they have suffered through many things but came out the other side with Hope, and healing.
Xulic Vos and Kidron Engedi, a drow and a lizard person. They are sharing the genderqueer flag. Xulic has long ears and white hair in a braid, with a white monkey-like tail barely visible behind their legs. Kidron looks like a leopard gecko, and their tail is acting as a visual block in fron of Xulic's groin. They are standing together in the central pose of Raphael's "School of Athens" fresco. Xulic is pointing one hand up to the sky, while Kidron holds one hand palm down towards the earth. Xulic's chest is visibly flat, however I have rewritten the drow as a eusocial people, who's biology has made most of the common population infertile and visibly near identical above the waist. Xulic's agab is unknown to anyone but them, and perhaps their reptilian lover Kidron. Both drow and lizard folk have biology and cultures that do not really support a gender binary, so genderqueer suits them both quite well. I chose the School of Athens pose because these characters are scientists in fields that overlap, and they often get into deep discussions on the matter. Xulic is a paleontologist while Kidron is a geologist, and they have another friend (my protagonist) who studies archaeology.
Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, an elderly goblin with sagging skin and axolotl-like frills on the sides of her head. She grins as she holds the gender queer flag, partly draped over the tall stool she is seated on. Her pose matches that of John Collier's "Priestess of Delphi" painting, which depicts a woman hunched over herself on a stool. Old Obeli Moruga, whose title best translates to "grandmother" is a significant figure in her community, both because of her more practical role as a leader and wise woman, but also because she has gained immortality and become an incarnation of Life Itself, after she was given the offer of such power when she nearly died in the goblin revolution. There are many figures that would suit her. Poses from statues of goddesses, like Athena or Gaia. Perhaps turning away from the theme of greek and roman figures I ended up with for my nonbinary group (dalmar is his own thing) and using the famous painting of Liberty on a battlefield. But now in her old age, all those poses of figures in more active poses, tall and imposing, simply didn't feel right. A wise old woman, hunched on a stool in a pose associated with the idea of an oracle, a priestess, a prophetess, felt much more fitting. (goblin culture does have specific pronouns for leadership, and in the common speech they have decided this translates best to the feminine "she/her")
Olli Moruga, also a goblin with axolotl-like frills, standing with the demiguy flag in his hands. He is in the pose of Michaelangelo's statue of Bacchus, god of wine, merriment, and madness. One hand up as if to salute with a cup, body leaning and perhaps a little unstable. Olli is a gay demiguy, stepping away from the naturally ungendered state of his people to embrace masculinity instead. He is extroverted, loves a good party, and has definitely been a little over his depth with alcohol on many occasions. He knows this is a problem. He used to act rebellious because of it, trying to be cool and aloof, but he has since admitted the truth to himself and now openly seeks help. His trans lover, Zaire (seen in a previous post) has become a great support to him. Even though it may seem odd to use the pose of a god of wine for a character that is trying to overcome an alcohol issue, I still feel like the vibe of Bacchus or Dionysus fits Olli well. He is not only a god of wine, but also of pleasure in general, a concept Olli embraces. Wild joy, perhaps to the point of becoming a little feral, abandoning tradition for personal fulfillment. It is unusual for goblins to embrace a binary gender, even partially. Gendered pronouns do not exist in their tongue, only being used in cases where common speech needs to be used to refer to certain significant figures, such as a leader. It is also unusual for a goblin to take a lover outside their species, since most goblins live in fairly isolated places and all mate together seasonally, depositing their eggs in a communal nursery pool. Olli stands out on purpose.
Lastly, Sajak, an amphibious person with some fish-like features such as their finned ears and a barely visible dorsal fin. They are holding the genderqueer flag as they stand in a commanding pose, one foot on a rock, one arm held out as if pointing to something below them. This pose is taken from the central Poseidon statue in the fountain of Trevi. Their head, arms, and torso are covered in dark tattoos in abstract designs, and they also have a few natural dark stripes along their arms and legs. The obvious connection between Sajak and this statue of Poseidon is that Sajak is a fish person and Poseidon is an ocean god. If I could have thought of a more medical figure, I may have made a different choice in the art reference. Sajak is primarily a doctor, a healer. They are fairly well known and they were an important figure on their home island, though they did leave eventually. Even so, there is a certain vibe to Sajak that suits the image of a powerful and unpredictable oceanic god. They are steady, intelligent, and careful, but they can become fierce when their loved ones are under threat, and the intense focus they show in their work as a doctor can be intimidating to see. There is a feeling of hidden power within Sajak, just as there is in the ocean when it seems calm. Fish folk, whether bipedal and amphibious or fully aquatic, also fit under my category of "non-mammalian people who are just kind of genderqueer by default due to their biology not fitting into a binary".
#figure art#figure drawing#nonbinary#intersex#genderqueer#queer ocs#winks ocs#image description#accessible art#my designs#drow#lizard folk#elves#goblins#merfolk
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“...Seasonal patterns are typical of nomad life. The pastoralists of ancient Scythia migrated from high summer pastures to winter camps. Each spring, bands came together to bury their preserved dead in kurgan cemeteries. In spring they took purifying saunas; met with other tribes annually for trade fairs; and competed in riding and shooting contests. Warfare and raiding may have been seasonal too, with bands of mostly males away for much of a year, returning each summer to the women with small children. For the Greeks these unfamiliar patterns could have given rise to the idea that the men and women lived separately, coming together once a year to mate.
Another factor is that small, isolated, close-knit tribes can avoid incest and inbreeding by mating with outsiders. (Whether or not they had an embryonic grasp of the scientific rationale, these breeders of horses and other animals would have noticed inbreeding effects.) Exogamous sexual unions among culturally related groups may well have taken place at certain times of the year. It was common practice to forge alliances by intermarriage. In some nomad groups polyamory or “free love” practices—multiple sexual partners for males and females, and polyandry (many “husbands” or men) and polygamy (many “wives” or women)—were accepted.
Xenophon, for example, remarked on the indiscriminate, public sexual intercourse of the tattooed Mossynoeci tribe of Pontus. Herodotus reported that the Agathyrsi, the nomadic Thracian-Scythian tribe, mated freely in order to “foster sibling-like relationships and to eliminate jealousy and hatred.” According to Strabo, among the Siginni of the northwest Caucasus the most accomplished women charioteers could “cohabit with whomever they chose.” Strabo also described the sexual mores of the mountain tribes of Media (northwestern Iran): the men have up to five women and “likewise the women believe it honorable to have as many men as possible and consider less than five a calamity.” Polyandry was practiced by the women of another nomad group near the Caspian Sea, the Tapyri, who had children by several men.
The Massagetae, a Saka-Scythian tribe of Central Asia, formed companionate couples with an “open marriage” option, according to Herodotus and Strabo. The men and women were free to initiate discreet sexual relations with others. The sign for sex in progress was a quiver hung outside a woman’s wagon. (In the Caucasian Nart sagas, the signal that a woman had a sexual guest was his lance stuck in the ground outside her abode.) Ancient Chinese sources also described polyandry and polyamory among the nomad tribes of Inner Asia (chapter 25). Ancient notions of virginal Amazons seem to be at odds with reports of Amazons as sexually active; some scholars argue that Amazons were imaginary figures intended to represent Greek girls out of male control.
Yet many features of the seemingly contradictory Greek descriptions of legendary Amazons may reflect misunderstood nomad customs. Greek girls were usually married by age eighteen, when they passed from the guardianship of their male relatives into their husband’s household. Greek men controlled their wives’ and daughters’ sexual activities. In contrast, there was no set “marriageable” age for girls in Scythia. Herodotus and other writers said that Saka-Scytho-Sarmatian girls did not marry until they had fought and/or killed at least one enemy. In antiquity “virgin” and “maiden” were not always technical terms meaning “intact hymen” or “lacking sexual experience”; the words could mean a sexually active woman who was “unmarried/unattached” to one man.
As noted in chapter 1, only three Amazons were renowned for their lifelong vows of virginity. In some nomad cultures, unattached young women enjoyed liberties shocking to Greeks. In Thrace, for example, where “to live by war and plunder is most glorious,” Herodotus marveled that “they keep no watch over maidens and leave them altogether free.” Girls and boys in nomadic societies were trained alike in the arts of war. In the steppe nomad context, it would be reasonable to expect youths of both sexes to prove their worth before marrying and/or having children. A ritualized duel with a suitor, often from another tribe, could be one way of proving one’s mettle.
The natural historian Aelian described courtship and marriage among the Saka (Massagetae) as a mock battle for dominance. “If a man wants to marry a maiden, he must fight a duel with her. They fight to win but not to the death. If the girl wins, she carries him off as captive and has power and control over him, but if she is defeated then she is under his control.” Aelian may have exaggerated the actual outcome based on the Greco-Roman difficulty in imagining a relationship grounded in equality. Similarly, the notion that only one partner could be dominant led classical writers to insist that any man who loved an Amazon had to either assert his power or submit to hers (see chapter 10).
And yet Aelian’s description turns out to have a basis in reality. Among the nomads of Central Asia, serious and mock duels between heroes and heroines in epic poems often end in love. The traditional courtship customs of nomadic Kyrgyz people and others of ancient Saka lands entail arduous physical contests, such as racing and wrestling, to win a maiden’s love. The contests are sometimes said to determine which marriage partner wins (symbolic) dominance in the relationship (chapters 22–24).
As in Atalanta’s lusty relationship with Meleager, Amazons were enthusiastic lovers of men of their own choosing. Herodotus’s story of the Sarmatians (chapter 3) told how Amazons and young Scythian men had sex, fell in love, and eloped to create a new tribe. The strangers shared sexual attraction and took mutual pleasure in intercourse, repeated over time and, in this case, with the same partners. The couples bonded and decided as a group to spend their lifetimes together, promising to raise their children free of imposed gender roles. Random sex among multiple partners, agreed upon among equals, appears in Strabo’s description of the seasonal mating of Amazons with their neighbors, the Gargarians.
It is not clear whether the Gargarians of the Caucasus were believed to be an all-male tribe. (Their name comes from gargar, ancient Georgian for apricot, native to Colchis.) In Strabo’s account, the Gargarians had originally “lived with” the Amazons in Pontus and migrated with them over the Caucasus Mountains to the northern Black Sea region. At some point, the Gargarians “revolted” and a war ensued. The Gargarians and Amazons finally made peace. They agreed to “a compact that they would live independently but still have dealings with each other in the matter of children.” The clear understanding is that each tribe would benefit from this arrangement.
And so, continues Strabo, following this ancient compact, each summer the Gargarian men go up to a mountain on the border with the Amazon territory to meet Amazonian women. First the men and women offer sacrifices together, signifying the religious propriety of what was to follow. Then, for two months, the Amazons and the Gargarians enjoy casual sex after dark with whoever is handy. The men return to their land and many of the women go home pregnant. Strabo goes on to say that baby girls born of these unions are raised by the Amazons, but “they take the boys to the Gargarians, who adopt and raise them as their own sons, despite uncertain paternity.”
Strabo’s account was drawn from two ancient historians of the Amazons, Metrodorus and Hypsicrates, both of Pontus (their works are unfortunately lost). Might his description reflect a garbled ethnological history of divisions and alliances within a tribe or confederation of tribes in which women were fighters and leaders? Scythian bands continually waxed and waned, united and divided, fought and allied. Modern scholars assume that Strabo intended his story to portray Amazons mating like wild animals solely for reproduction. But his account is complex and may well contain incomplete information about genuine past practices. The treaty between Amazons and the Gargarian men who were once closely associated with the Amazons specified that they would come together each summer to worship and procreate.
Annual gatherings would have involved reunions of friends and relations from past years. Ritualized sacrifice and consensual sex with multiple partners within a sacred precinct is not implausible. Seasonal rendezvous customs fostered exogamy and provided other important social and economic opportunities for scattered nomad groups. One ancient Greek writer clearly associated Amazon sexual activity with nomadic trade fairs: “Whenever the Amazons need children they go to the marketplace on the River Halys (western Pontus) and have intercourse with men.” Strabo reported that as many as seventy tribes of Sarmatia and the Caucasus region came together each year at Dioscurias on the coast of Colchis to socialize and trade.
It is interesting that many Central Asian epics tell of heroes who travel long distances to find brides, and many non-Greek Amazon tales feature marriage to husbands from other tribes, practices that avoid incest and seal alliances. In antiquity, Amazons were assumed to be strongly heterosexual. The women warriors were, as Plutarch put it, “natural lovers of men.” Indeed, some ancient beliefs about physiognomy maintained that it would be natural for “manly” Amazons to be especially attracted to “manly” men. According to this theory, it was overly feminine women who would be attracted to loving other women. Virile women, like Amazons—who could overcome the weak, “effeminate” traits in themselves—were assumed to desire virile men.
…In Greek mythology, confronting a beautiful, passionately resisting, powerful Amazon aroused the Greek heroes to dominate, harm, rape, humiliate, and/or murder such threatening women (chapters 15–18). Yet outside the world of myth, in the Amazonian sexual encounters described by ancient historians and other authors, a consistent theme emerges of mutual sexual attraction, pleasurable consensual sex— plenty of it—and a sense of equality with male lovers. Sexual relations between equal men and women developed into long-term relationships in Herodotus’s story of the Sarmatians, who decided that gender equality was “fair and honorable.”
Herodotus also reported that among the “civilized and righteous Issedonians the women share power equally with their men”. Companionable relationships characterized by equality and a sense of interdependence, like those the Greeks reported among Scythians in antiquity, are traditional and practical ways of life in many nomadic and seminomadic cultures. The ancient Nart sagas of the Caucasus, for example, frequently allude to the shared authority, responsibility, interdependence, love, and affection of male and female “soul mates.” Mutual respect was seen as a necessary condition for a husband and wife.
Early modern European travelers in the Caucasus remarked on the “great freedom and respect accorded to women” and the “humanity and affection” and friendship of husbands and wives. Klaproth remarked, for example, that in the Caucasus “the wife is the companion, and not the menial servant, of the husband.” “Easy camaraderie” and “blurred lines between sex roles” are phrases used to describe the egalitarian lifestyle of some nomads living today in Kazakhstan and other ancient Scythian lands. Among the polytheistic Kalash tribe of northwest Pakistan the women have a remarkable degree of sexual freedom (some Kalash claim descent from Alexander’s Greeks and local women).
…Did the Greeks ever suspect what they might have been missing by suppressing women? Greeks also held a belief that sex between equals— especially gods and heroes but also mortals—could be exciting and fulfilling. That idea anticipates some modern scientific studies correlating gender equality with more frequent sex and happier coupling. Perhaps the popularity of Amazon stories among the Greeks served as a kind of “what if/if only” compensation. The Greek historian Xenophon wrote an oft-quoted dialogue in which a man instructs his young bride on the proper duties of an ideal Greek wife. Yet, like Herodotus, Xenophon also expressed admiration for other societies in which women, like men, were encouraged to engage in vigorous sports like “running and feats of strength” and outdoor activities. Xenophon remarked that “if both mothers and fathers were physically fit their children would be much stronger.”
A pair of lesser-known passages by Xenophon illustrate fascinating real-life situations suggesting that Greeks could enjoy envisioning men and women on more equal terms. In Xenophon’s Symposium (380 BC) we witness the growing excitement of Greek men at a banquet as they observe a steamy sexual encounter of two passionate, willing partners. A handsome young man and woman—noncitizen slaves of equal status—have already entertained the men with choreographed, sinuous gymnastics and a dangerous sword dance–duel. Now they act out a sex scene, taking the roles of the mythic lovers Dionysus and Ariadne. As the two kiss and caress one another, the men, says Xenophon, suddenly realize that the actors are not simply reciting a typical “burlesque” script. The two people are really in love and lust.
Watching genuine lovers of equal status on the verge of satisfying their obvious mutual desire arouses the men to a high pitch, says Xenophon. As the pair discreetly withdraw from view, the bachelors in the audience vow to get married and the married men rush home to their wives, eager to replicate what they have just seen. Xenophon includes another remarkable account of gender equality in his historical memoir of leading his army of ten thousand Greek soldiers back to Greece after a failed campaign in Babylonia (400 BC). Their long march took them north from Persia through Armenia to Pontus, the fabled Amazon homeland on the Black Sea.
Along the way, Xenophon says, the Greek soldiers took “some boys and many women captive, depending on their sexual preferences.” Like the boys, the “beautiful and tall” women and girls of local villages were at first exploited as sexual objects and made to perform daily chores for the men. But during the months of shared hardships and dangers crossing the Armenian mountains in winter, Xenophon explains that a new relationship began to develop between the individual men and the foreign women. They were gradually becoming trusted companions dependent on each other for survival.
Several times the men risked their lives to save the women. The women took up the army’s war cry at crucial moments. Camping together in the cold, hostile land, fending off deadly attacks from natives, and learning each other’s languages and personalities, the Greek soldiers and the barbarian women forged bonds that made them essentially equals. Xenophon’s Greek army had taken on some of the attributes that made Scythian bands so formidable: everyone, male and female, was a potential fighter. Xenophon illustrates this new relationship in his account of the banquet that he, as general, gave for the local Paphlagonian chiefs, because his army needed safe passage through their territory west of Pontus.
To entertain their guests, the Greek men performed their traditional pyrrhic war dances. The choreographed military moves in full armor with weapons and shields was also a not-so-subtle display of martial prowess. Then one of the foreign women at the banquet donned some Greek armor and took up a light shield to “perform a pyrrhic dance with grace.” The amazed Paphlagonian chieftains asked whether these women fought alongside the Greeks. The Greeks assured their guests, “These very women drove off the King of Persia!” In this extraordinary reply, the Greek soldiers were claiming—boasting!—that they had Amazons as their companions in love and war.”
- Adrienne Mayor, “Sex and Love.” in The Amazons: Lives and Legends of Warrior Women across the Ancient World
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Hi, I'm a parent of a 14yr old who says he is a transmale. After reading the vocabulary list, is there a difference between transmasculine and transgender male? He has not transition yet but I'm trying to learn/do what I can to support his journey. Thank you and please accept my apology if I didn't use the correct descriptive words.
Lee says:
The difference is like the squares and rectangles thing!
All squares are rectangles, so all trans men fall under the transmasculine umbrella, but not all rectangles are squares, so not all transmasculine people identify as men.
Transmasculine is a term used to describe trans people who were assigned female at birth and identify with masculinity to a greater extent than with femininity in some way.
Being transmasculine doesn’t mean that you actually identify as a man, it just means you’re A) masculine-leaning, B) transgender, and C) assigned female at birth.
Personally speaking, I identify as transmasculine because my gender expression and medical transition is bringing me in a direction society sees as masculine.
I also am medically transitioning to a body that people see as more masculine- I’m on testosterone, I’ve gotten top surgery, I’ve had a hysterectomy, and I’m scheduled for phalloplasty in the spring.
In terms of my gender expression, I usually have short hair, I’m growing a patchy quarantine beard, I wear men’s clothing, etc. But saying I have a “masculine” gender expression is an interesting thing because it depends on your point of view. Compared to my pre-transition gender expression I come across as much more masculine now, but compared to gender-conforming cisgender heterosexual men, I do not come across as masculine at all! People often assume I’m a gay man because I am gender non-conforming in some ways, like I have effeminate mannerisms and while I only wear men’s clothes I wear super skinny jeans and the like, so when I’m in a group of men they often think I am feminine, and therefore I must be gay because #sterotypes be like that.
So I use the term transmasculine because it can be helpful in describing what my transition is, like where I’m coming from and where I’m going to, even though I’m not stereotypically Masculine™.
Despite my masculine-esque appearance and transition, I actually identify as genderqueer and non-binary and I feel that my gender itself is neutral and not particularly masculine or feminine.
I don’t understand what it means to “feel like” a boy/man, I don’t use masculine-coded words to refer to myself and prefer gender-neutral language, and I had a choice between being in a men’s group or space and a gender neutral group or space I’d always choose the gender neutral one.
I’ve just always known that I would be happier in a more stereotypically “male” body and being in my pre-transition body was increasingly distressing after puberty. Some people who have similar feelings as I do might choose to identify as a trans man, but I’ve just never felt the need to do so.
So even though I identify with masculinity and would consider myself transmasculine, I don’t consider myself a trans male, and that’s how someone can be transmasculine but not a trans man!
Transmasculine is the umbrella term that covers both binary transgender men like your son and non-binary people like me who choose to transition in a masculine way.
In your son’s case, it seems likely that he is both transmasculine and a transgender male. He’d be transmasculine because he likely is transitioning (or wants to transition) in a masculine way and/or identifies with masculinity or male-ness more than femininity or female-ness, and he’d be a transgender man because he knows he is a man despite the gender he was assigned at birth.
So it’s possible to be transmasculine and a trans man.
That being said, there’s a bunch of different terms that people use within the community and which term someone uses depends on the context and what they’re comfortable.
Some trans men may not be particularly attached to the word transmasculine as a self-identifier even though it’s a label they could choose to claim because they feel like it’s redundant or not necessary because saying they’re a trans man already conveys the same information that transmasculine does.
Transmasculine is a useful term for describing the overlap between the section of the trans male and AFAB non-binary community, but it doesn’t describe all AFAB non-binary people either, as some may identify as a trans neutral or eschew a broader umbrella altogether.
So transmasculine doesn’t mean the same thing as assigned female at birth, and not all transgender people who were AFAB are also transmasculine.
Anyhow, being knowledgeable about the various self-identity terms people may use and how the various umbrella terms fit together is definitely a cool thing to do in supporting him, but I don’t really think it’s the most important thing! I’ll be honest, there’s a lot of terms out there that even I don’t know, especially specific microlabels for gender identities, and different people define and apply the same terms in different ways. But messing up on terms matters to some people more than others, so it is good to get an idea of the commonly used terms to avoid misunderstandings and hurt feelings.
In general, the most important thing you can do to support his journey is listen to him about what he needs and make sure you’re approachable so he knows that you will listen to him.
Now for some advice that you didn’t ask for! I just can’t help myself, so here we go.
I’d personally recommend looking into trans-competent mental health providers in your area. This is useful for a couple of reasons, the first being that pre-transition trans people often have depression because they struggle with being misgendered, incidents of transphobia, dysphoria about their bodies, being rejected and not accepted by peers/relatives/teachers, and so on, which is a lot to add on top of the usual stress from high school! And therapy can be helpful in finding strategies to cope with gender dysphoria.
Additionally, medical providers and insurance companies who follow the WPATH-SOC will require a letter from a psychologist saying that the person is ready to take [insert relevant medical transitioning step] so seeing a therapist is often the first step towards a medical transition, and at age 14 he might be interested in starting puberty blockers until he’s able to go on testosterone. Or he might want to start testosterone right away, or do neither, but having a therapist and getting diagnosed with gender dysphoria can help get through the gatekeeping process that may be present in medical transitioning if that is the path he decides he want to take.
But be careful of how you bring this up- you really don’t want it to come across as you saying “you’re trans so you’re mentally ill and you need therapy,” because the fear of conversion therapy means if you don’t make it clear why you’re suggesting therapy he might be hearing the completely different message of “you need therapy so you can stop being trans and get better” which is not your intent at all.
Every step makes your child’s life better- I legally changed my name at 17, which was hard for my parents to allow because obviously they were attached to the name they had given me at birth, but it made a big difference in my mental health. And the earlier people transition the easier it is for them.
It might also be helpful to offer to buy him men’s clothing and underwear and shoes and men’s deodorant and all that if he only has women’s things right now. He might be between the boy’s and the men’s sizes for clothes, but most folks can find something they can fit into.
You might also want to offer to buy him a safe binder from a reputable binder company. Binding unsafely can have risks, and if he can’t get a safe binder he might choose to bind unsafely with a cheap and dangerous binder or ace bandages or duct tape and so on, or bind for too long because he has to hide it and can’t get away to change out of it.
Buying a packer is another thing that he might want, but of course, with all of these things you also shouldn’t make assumptions about what your son will want or need.
For example, some trans men may not medically transition and/or may not aim for an masculine gender expression because gender expression and genitals are different than gender identity. So even if he doesn’t want to go on testosterone, or decides to wear a dress sometimes or doesn’t pack, it doesn’t mean that he’s not trans.
You don’t want him to think that you’re saying that he should want these things or need them to be valid, or feel like you’re pressuring him into taking steps that he’s not ready for in his transition. But if you don’t bring up the topic at all, he might be too anxious to tell you about it because he’s worried about what you might think.
I do emphasize that being trans is rarely a phase, detransitioning is not common, trans people know who we are and we know our genders and you should trust our word on that and so on, but I think sometimes people push the “it’s not a phase!!!!” message so hard that they don’t leave any wiggle room for people who are still questioning and coming to terms with their identity.
Especially at the start of someone’s journey we need to be open to some level of uncertainty and change. The only person who knows what someone’s gender identity is the person whose gender it is. It’s very important to take your son at his word! But figuring out your identity can be a process, so be understanding if he switches names, pronouns, or gender labels a few times while he’s still figuring it out.
It’s likely that you will slip up with names and pronouns on occasion, and the best thing to do is just correct yourself, and move on.
You can briefly apologize (wait to do it later when you’re in private if it occured in front of someone) if you feel like it’s necessary. But don’t make it into a big deal, which calls attention to it and can be embarrassing for the trans person, and don’t start to self-flagellate about it and beat yourself up because then it makes it about you, and the trans person feels compelled to say “it’s fine” or something to reassure you when it isn’t fine.
Just correct yourself and move on, and do better next time! Then make sure you actually practice with his chosen name and pronouns so you make fewer mistakes in the future- practice makes perfect, as they say.
You should also make sure you’re an active ally to trans people in your everyday life if you weren’t already doing this. This is something you should ideally be doing whether or not you have a trans son who just came out.
Finally, make sure you get the support you need. You might find seeing a therapist helpful for yourself, or connecting with a support group for parents of LGBTQ children- many are meeting on Zoom now, so if there isn’t a group local to you there’s probably one online you can join! Be careful to avoid the transphobic mom groups that promote conversion therapy, rapid onset gender dysphoria, and don’t believe in being transgender. Finding a good support group will let you vent when you need to and find community for yourself as well- it’s a lot to process, and it can be emotionally difficult for you on top of managing the logistics.
But honestly, I wouldn’t recommend telling your son about anything you’re struggling with when it comes to his identity because saying things like “I feel like I’m mourning my daughter” isn’t going to make your relationship with your son any better. Especially because he’s 14, telling him that you’re having a hard time is just going to hurt him without helping you any, so it’s best to keep those feelings between yourself and your support system until you’ve reached that stage of acceptance when you’re no longer struggling with coming to terms with it. He needs to be reassured that you’re supportive of who he is and he won’t be able to reconcile your support with those statements, so don’t lie but don’t volunteer those sentiments.
The For parents/guardians intro has some of the same stuff as I mentioned above, like links to safe binders and packers and info on puberty blockers and the benefits of medical transitioning, so check that out too if you haven’t!
All in all, I think it’s really great that you’re reaching out and trying to support him! I know that even trans folks with really supportive parents still have anxiety about being rejected so it’s good to give them a little extra reassurance to show that you do care about him and that you do see him as male and you respect what he’s sharing with you. Good luck to both of you!
Followers, anything to add?
#Lee says#transmasculine#trans male#terminology#parent#parents#allies#for allies#cis asker#Anonymous#trans#transgender#transgenderteensurvivalguide#TTSG
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How is the transgression of boundaries explored in ‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter and ‘Carmilla’ by J. Sheridan Le Fanu?
In ‘Carmilla’ by J. Sheridan Le Fanu and ‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter, the idea of female oppression being thwarted by the women’s self-awareness of their sexuality and their ability to use it as a form of power is explored through various boundary transgressions in both novels. ‘Carmilla’ be Le Fanu was influenced by real life Countess Elizabeth Bathory and was the predecessor to Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. ‘Carmilla’ is also referenced in Angela Carter’s short story ‘The Bloody Chambers’ (it is the name given to one of the Marquis’ previous wives), thus linking the two novels together.
In another one of Carter’s stories, ‘The Company of Wolves’, there is a transgression of gender roles regarding the girl in the story. In the Gothic genre, women usually fall into three types: The Trembling Victim, The Femme Fatale, and The Crone. However, the child in this story is none of these, and displays strength that defies the stereotypes in her confrontation with the werewolf as seen when she ‘burst out laughing; she knew she was nobody’s meat’[1], which is itself is sexual symbolism that makes the ‘meat’ a metaphor for the sexual objectification of women’s bodies, which she rejects by laughing. Her laughter is also a mockery of the patriarchal expectation of submissiveness that men believe all women possess. It suggests that the girl is aware of the power her sexuality carries, much like a femme fatale. The same could also be said for ‘Carmilla’, where Laura’s father ‘won’t consent to you leaving us’[2]even though he has no familial ties to Carmilla. In both stories, the fathers seem to be in a superior position within the family, and evidence of this can be found not only in that quote from ‘Carmilla’, but also from the line ‘Her father might forbid her’[3]in ‘The Company of Wolves’. The verb ‘forbid’suggests that he hold powers over his daughter and is able to control her actions. This is a reflection of the patriarchal family systems which were in place up until the late 1970s, when men were considered the breadwinners. Angela Carter, a feminist, was part of the movement that broke down those family systems; Carroll Davids referred to this in her review of Angela Carter; “Angela Carter’s portrayal of husbands and fathers not only reflects the ideals of her time, but also contradicts them on occasion with the femininity of the men.”[4]
There is also a transgression of gender through the empowerment of female characters in ‘Carmilla’ and ‘The Werewolf’. In both of these texts, the female character succeeds through her own means, rather than relying on a man to support her. In ‘Carmilla’, it is through death that Carmilla is able to gain power. This idea is strengthened through Laura’s speech to Carmilla in Chapter 4, where she asserts that ‘Girls are caterpillars while they live in the world, to be finally butterflies when the summer comes’[5]. The use of this metaphor suggests that girls are only free of the constraints that surround women when they have died, a suggestion that is supported by Colleen Damman’s analysis of the novel “as a woman, Carmilla can only claim her sexuality after death. Thus, vampirism is the only way she can express her own carnal desires. Besides marriage, becoming a vampire is one of the only ways that female sexuality is licensed in the Victorian era”[6]. Meanwhile, in ‘The Werewolf’, the child represents the New Woman and is pitted against her grandmother, who represents the generation of women who have fallen under the thumb of a patriarchal society. The final line states ‘Now the child lived in her grandmother’s house; she prospered.’[7]which implies that the child benefits from the downfall of the previous generation and is able to live happily without a husband or children. This conclusion suggests that women can live complete and fulfilled lives without needing to be married. Angela Carter’s feminist views on empowerment were controversial during her lifetime, including negative reviews for her book ‘The Sadeian Woman’ due to its defence of the Marquis de Sade, who wrote violent erotic novels that many consider sexist and inspired the word ‘sadism’. In regards to the empowerment in ‘Carmilla’, Elizabeth Signorotti states that “Le Fanu allows Laura and Carmilla to usurp male authority and to bestow themselves on whom they please, completely excluding male participation in the exchange of women”[8].
The inclusion of the female ‘Monster’ in ‘The Lady of the House of Love’ and ‘Carmilla’ also transgresses the boundaries placed around gender and the roles women play in society. The Countess is a vampire, much like Carmilla, and bears similarities to Elizabeth Bathory, the acclaimed ‘Blood Countess' who was rumoured to be a relation of Vlad the Impaler. The Countess in Carter’s tale embodies the idea of a Gothic Femme Fatale through the description ‘Everything about this beautiful and ghastly lady is as it should be, queen of night, queen of terror’[9]- the repetition of ‘queen’ places emphasis upon her position within the story. She is the highest authority within the text, being the queen, and is not subject to male dominance. In ‘Carmilla’, the monster is humanised at its death by Laura ‘a sharp stake was driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony.’[10]and a simile is used to liken the monster’s pain to that of a human’s, implying that Carmilla is not actually that different from human beings. It seems that Le Fanu, like Carter, is suggesting that women who are free from male dominated societies are not monsters but are in fact just as human as everyone else. Le Fanu’s decision to focus on a female vampire may have been influenced by the legends he would have known growing up, namely the stories of the Leanan Sidhe and the Dearg-Due. These myths revolved around female vampiric creatures that preyed upon Irish youths and left a lasting effect on the victims even after the creature’s death (Laura never fully recovers from the effect of Carmilla, and often imagines she will return.). A connection between Le Fanu and the myths of the Leanan Sidhe and the Dearg-Due can be made as his mother read Irish folk tales to him when he was a child.
The continued transgression of gender moves onto the reversal of gender roles in ‘The Erl King’ and ‘Carmilla’. In ‘The Erl King’, the titular character defies the stereotypical role of men in literature as it states that ‘He is an excellent housewife.’ -[11]Carter ironically using the feminine spousal term for him. Aside from this, he has long hair he frequently combs and he takes part in activities that were frequently considered feminine, such as cooking, basket weaving and collecting flowers. Carter may have taken elements from the traditional Pagan god ‘The Green Man’ and his myth; he completed a loop in which he would conceive a child with ‘The Goddess’, die, and then be reborn as the child he created. Certainly, the Erl King is similar in appearance, as well as the narrator of the story stating ‘I would lodge inside your body and you would bear me’[12]. This is a metaphorical reference to birth, something only females are capable of, which juxtaposes the idea of the Erl King birthing the narrator. ‘Carmilla’ does the opposite, as Le Fanu gives Carmilla masculine qualities, the most obvious being her inhuman strength ‘and unscathed, caught him in her tiny grasp by the wrist.’[13]The use of the adjective ‘tiny’juxtaposes the power Carmilla is able to demonstrate. Moreover, a less obvious trait of masculinity is Carmilla’s lesbianism which was , in Le Fanu’s time, sinful in Ireland, and sexual desire for women would have only been acceptable from men. The inclusion of homoerotic features in ‘Carmilla’ points towards Le Fanu’s possibly relaxed view of homosexuality, as pointed out by Christy Byks, who states “Le Fanu, one of the godfathers of Gothic, appears to draw upon features that women would not have been given during his era, and his writing of Carmilla and her inability to fit in with most female Gothic characters would likely have been a topic of controversy within Ireland, a country ruled by religion.”[14]. This idea is supported by the introduction of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’, which takes many ideas from ‘Carmilla’. Many literary theorists suggest that Bram Stoker wrote ‘Dracula’ as an answer to the female centric ‘Carmilla’, choosing to re-focus the story upon men, with women being forced back into smaller, weaker roles.
Further transgressions of boundaries, including the transgression of religious boundaries, can be viewed in ‘The Company of Wolves’. This story mocks religion through an intrusive narrator who informs you ‘you can hurl your Bible at him and your apron after, granny… and all the angels in heaven to protect you but it won’t do you any good.’[15]This is the intruding narrator mocking the two key aspects that Carter believed held women back, that being the ‘Bible’and the ‘apron’, which is a not just a symbol of stereotypical femininity; a feminist literary study showed that almost every female character in a fairy-tale wears an apron, referencing their roles as the housewife. seems to be Carter herself, who openly stated that she thinks “Mother Goddesses are just as silly a notion as father gods. If a revival of the myths of these cults gives women emotional satisfaction, it does so at the price of obscuring the real conditions of life. This is why they were invented in the first place.”[16]Rather similarly, in ‘Carmilla’, Le Fanu presents Carmilla’s aversion to religion, and portrays a fight between Carmilla and Laura’s father, which could represent an argument about nature versus God. Carmilla speaks against Christianity ‘”Creator! _Nature! _” said the young lady in answer to my gentle father. “And this disease that invades the country… and under the earth, act and live as Nature ordains? I think so”’[17]. The caesura used between the words ‘creator’and ‘nature’ not only symbolises her anger, but in placing a caesura here, Le Fanu separates God from Nature, and therefore denies religion the claim of creating everything. This scene contrasts with Le Fanu’s own background, whose father brought up the entire household with strong Catholic beliefs.
This questioning of religion perhaps suggests why there is also a transgression of moral boundaries in both texts. The ‘Trembling Victims’ within ‘Carmilla’ and ‘The Lady of the House of Love’ are Laura and the Soldier. Both texts include a similar juxtaposition of feelings towards the ‘monster’. In ‘Carmilla’, Laura portrays the Gothic feature of ‘The Uncanny, in people’s reaction to her; “but there was also something of repulsion. In this ambiguous feeling, however, the sense of attraction immensely prevailed.’[18]This shows that Laura subconsciously knows that something is wrong with Carmilla, because like most Victorians of the time, she reflects the belief that the appearance of a person was an indicator of their moral standing. Carter’s ‘The Lady of the House of Love’ has a similar scene in which ‘Her huge dark eyes almost broke his heart with their waiflike, lost look; yet he was disturbed, almost repelled, by her extraordinarily fleshy mouth’[19]The descriptive imagery and modified noun phrases work to emphasise the Countess’ appearance and how the soldier is affected by this, and it also represents the notion of the ‘Male Gaze’, the theory presented by Laura Mulvey, that women are either sexual objects there to satisfy men, or the housewife. The two notions are represented in the Gothic genre as the Femme Fatale and the Trembling Victim, and the Countess in ‘The Lady of the House of Love’ has facial features that are stereotypical of both women. Her ‘huge dark eyes’ and ‘waiflike, lost look’ are used often in the description of innocence, whilst her ‘extraordinarily fleshy mouth’ is a sign of sexualisation. Freud’s theory of ‘The Madonna and the Whore’ also comes into play here, as the Countess and Carmilla both bear qualities (both physically and metaphorically) of innocence and sexuality. The presentation of the soldier as a Trembling Victim links with Angela Carter’s view that not only should women become more masculine, but that men should also embrace femininity.
Laura in ‘Carmilla’ transgresses the sexual boundaries placed around her by choosing to refuse medical treatment from her father and the doctor. In doing so, she rejects the idea of curing her illness, which is a metaphor for lesbianism, and becomes free to make her own decisions in regards to her body. She takes on the dominant role in saying ‘I would not admit that I was ill, I would not consent to tell my papa, or to have the doctor sent for’[20]by making her own decisions regarding her wellbeing. The first-person pronoun ‘I’ is used so that the readers understand that Laura is the sole maker of these decisions. Through this illness, she has been able to gain freedom from her father. According to Christy Byks, Laura’s illness is a visualisation of what Victorian’s believed homosexuality was: a disease that needed to be cured. Byks says “Two ideas are at work in this passage. First is Laura’s father’s attempt to control the women who are becoming “ill” and dying; the men want to “cure” her (Laura) by making her well and keeping her among the living, for it is in death that the women break free… By making these interactions with Carmilla a medical problem, the situation can be contained and defined, thus still under the control of men”[21]. Angela Carter also provides transgressions of sexuality when placing women in the dominant position. In ‘The Company of Wolves’, it is the girl who makes the first move towards sexual intercourse, as suggested by the removal of her clothes in the extract ‘The thin muslin went flaring up the chimney like a magic bird and now came off her skirt, her woollen stockings, her shoes, and on to the fire they went, too, and were gone for good[22]’. A simile is used to present the girl’s clothes as a ‘magic bird’, and this personification of her clothing suggests that by removing her clothing, the girl, like a bird, is free to go wherever she wants to. The use of listing used within this quote also suggests that layers are being removed, eventually revealing the girl’s real desires beneath. Angela Carter herself believed that women were not given an equal role in sex, as stated in her book ‘The Sadeian Woman: The Ideology of Pornography’. In her comparison of Justine and Juliette, she states “Women do not normally fuck in the active sense. They are fucked in the passive tense and hence automatically fucked-up, done over, undone.”[23]and it is clear that this idea of a preference of submissive women over dominant ones had a large influence on how Angela Carter shaped her female protagonists and their attitudes to sexual desire, especially in regards to ‘Wolf-Alice’, who’s title character, like the Marquis De Sade’s Justine and Juliette, was originally housed in a convent after being found with the wolves.
The portrayal of the convent in ‘Wolf-Alice’ itself does not conform to the traditional view of religion, and instead transgresses religious boundaries by presenting the nuns not as kind, helpful religious figures, but instead as oppressive matriarchs; the nuns’ only purpose in the story is to attempt to integrate Wolf-Alice into the human society they live in, evidenced when ‘The nuns poured water over her, poked her with sticks to rouse her’[24]and ‘Therefore, without a qualm, this nine days’ wonder and continuing embarrassment of a child was delivered over to the bereft and unsanctified household of the Duke’[25]. When they find they are unable to manipulate her into becoming like everyone else, their choice is to pass her off to a male figure instead, whose house is described as ‘bereft and unsanctified[26]’, which is ironic, as it means the nuns, extremely religious beings, abandon their ward in a house that is considered unholy. This irony serves the purpose of being a metaphor for how society treats outcasts as whole, by isolating them from those considered normal. Angela Carter herself believed religion to be mythical, and stated “I’m interested in myths because they are extraordinary lies designed to make people unfree”.[27]The second transgression of religious boundaries in ‘Carmilla’ is during the funeral scene where Carmilla states ‘Besides, how can you tell your religion and mine are the same… everyone_must die; and all are happier when they do.’[28]and uses a caesura, perhaps to indicate the way she views life. The use of ‘Why you must die--_everyone_must die’[29]indicates how short life is, and the suddenness of death is reflected in the caesuras. Furthermore, the use of ‘your religion and mine’ seperates the two, and conflicts with Victorian ideas of religion. Christianity was considered the one true religion, and therefore Carmilla suggesting she followed another religion would have been heresy. As well as this, her pain at hearing religious hymns in the line ‘”There! That comes of strangling people with hymns!”’[30]presents the idea of a supernatural aversion to religion and foreshadows the reveal of Carmilla’s vampiric nature.
In conclusion, the varied transgressions presented within the two novels provide solid evidence of both authors’ awareness of the problems that are faced by females within traditional literary roles, and both Carter and Le Fanu are able to present their arguments using a variation of language features and characters whilst managing to keep a strong theme of female sexuality at the forefront of their stories.
[1]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[2]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[3]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[4]Carroll Davids on: How Does Angela Carter Deconstruct Conventional And Repressive Gender Identities In The Bloody Chamber
[5]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[6]Colleen Damman on: Women's sexual liberation from Victorian patriarchy in Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla
[7]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[8]Elizabeth Signorotti on: Repossessing the Body: Transgressive Desire in Carmilla and Dracula
[9]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[10]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[11]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[12]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[13]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[14]Christy Byks on: Women's sexual liberation from Victorian patriarchy in Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla
[15]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[16]‘The Sadeian Woman: The Ideology of Pornography’ by Angela Carter
[17]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[18]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[19]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[20]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[21]Christy Byks on: Women's sexual liberation from Victorian patriarchy in Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla
[22]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[23] ‘The Sadeian Woman: The Ideology of Pornography’ by Angela Carter
[24]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[25]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[26]‘The Bloody Chambers & Other Stories’ by Angela Carter
[27]Angela Carter on: Religion by SlideShare
[28]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[29]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
[30]‘Carmilla’ by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
#literature#academics#literature essay#gothic writing#gothic literature#carmilla#dracula#angela carter#joseph sheridan le fanu#feminism#writing#academic writing#academic essay#gothic essay#writing essay#essay
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