Binding your swornsister's soul to your blade, that she may stay with you even after her death to revel in your joint battles, is all fine and good until it's been a decade since your last good fight—longer still since any real battle—and she's still in there, and you can hear her crying every night, longing for the grip of your palm and the guts of your enemies. And of course she won't let you be, even in your dreams, appearing there too. Whole and young as the day she died, while you've gotten older and timeworn. Gripping her pretty head by the hair and driving her skull through the chest of some faceless foe, the air is sparkling like diamonds. The blood's all over her and she's smiling at you, fucking blissed-out and naked, because of course she's naked, she's only doing this to fuck with you.
So you take her down off the mantel, and before the sun's really up, just blue-gray on the horizon— reflecting off her, the blade you've never had to clean or sharpen—you stumble from your home. And with your bare feet in the early spring dirt and your bare hand on the leather wrap of her grip, she talks to you again. Denies the dream. Won't admit she's doing it on purpose. Pretending like she isn't the one doing this to you. Playing coy.
Someone sees you, and you see him back. You know him. You always know them. You actually live here, in this shithole town where no one asks that many questions. He nods at you, the gesture of something small and dumb and dead. He hasn't seen your state, not yet. Half dressed and wild eyed with sleep deprivation. Naked sword in your practiced hand.
Haven't had a good fight in a decade. Still true, this guy isn't fighting you. Slip her into him, feel the POP of the skin and fat, the slick glide of the intestines, the clattering of bone and it's already over.
Wrench her up! Tear him open! She's happy. She's there with you.
"Good girl."
You say it into her pommel, which happens to be next to the guy's ear. If he was listening, he dies very confused, but it was just a little dirty talk.
They'll find him in the morning and say he got robbed. Or a scuffle gone wrong. One of his buddies, probably. Or some drifter from somewhere else. Always goes that way. The men who don't know their jobs are to clean up your messes will nod at you in the morning as you pass by on your walk to the docks. Just like he did.
She's back on your mantel for not quite a week before it all starts up again. Not dreams this time, but hauntings. Things thrown and dropped. Odd noises in the dark. Fucking brat.
Good's never good enough for her, is it? She always wants more. Fine. You can give her a little more. Start wearing her around. Show off your jewelry. Invite someone to really try you. And they do. They always do. Can't throw a rock in this world without hitting someone looking to prove anyone can best a swordswoman.
You're at the bar when the rock hits home. He's drunker than you are, face red with it, and his buddies are all behind him jeering while he prods at you. Like you need the provocation. You've been shivering with glee since you saw him stand up. Next time he touches you, you bite him. He's a bleeder, barely nipped at the skin and you're covered in the stuff.
"Jealous?" you ask her, tucked neatly in her scabbard. Now that the idea's struck you, the whole thing lays itself out so neatly in your mind. You throw a punch. She doesn't feel anything. You knock one of his teeth out. She's biting at the leather you've got her in. You break his arm and claw at his eyes and she stays exactly where you have her. She gets to play the cuckold and it's delicious to deny her.
Until one of his dumbshit friends grabs her right from under your nose. Too busy chewing your food? He's a scrawny kid but he's got a good few scars to show for himself, and he's holding her not without any skill.
And-
This is so much better. God she's so fucking hot like that. You can take care of him easily enough, but halfway through dodging and weaving around his swings, you realize what's happening. She's fucking helping him. You're fighting her.
Its good, it's so good. Like having the bitch back from the dead, she can turn even this pimplefaced idiot into her avatar. You shoot the cartilage of his nose up into his skull and he falls into a heap. Didn't even know that could really happen, but it does and you can feel her squirming when you do it.
She got you, once. A little line of pink flesh is poking out from under your eye. It's going to scar nasty. You'll have to get her back for it. Soon enough, you do. Same routine, new bar. Pick a fight with the biggest group of men you see, wait for one of them to take her and then make sure you're the only two people left standing.
She plays dirty. Knows all your tics. It's heaven. She's alive every time you fight her. You're young as long as she's facing you down.
Until you're not. Someone gets you with a chair to the shoulders. Shouldn't faze you, and it's not like he didn't get what he had coming, but… but it takes you months to recover enough to go back out. Then someone hits it again, a year later. Same spot. With a metal pipe. Reopens all the old wounds, and doubles the old pain. She has to intervene, and the guy holding her slips suddenly, impaling himself and his pipe wielding friend in the fall.
You both reach the same conclusion on the limping walk home. This can't go on any longer. You're not keeping up with her. She visits you in your dreams again, this time to soothe you. It breaks something deep in your guts, this kindness from her. Feels to final. Shatters itself and tears you open. The fear you hadn't felt since you were a teenager. Death. Looming over you. Can't bear to lose this. Lose your nights together.
She's got an idea. Just have to find the right instrument.
"And you'll inset the hilt with this." You hand the blacksmith a jewel. "Doesn't even have to be visible, just has to be in there."
"Looks all scratched up," he squints at the near imperceptible script you've carved into the surface of the jewel. That's half the work done, there. The easy half, she reminds you from your hip. You tell her that she had you to do the hard part for her, the little princess.
"Just do it. I'm sure paying you more than enough. Then once it's ready, I want you to wrap it in this," you hand him the cloth. It's stained deep brown with your dried blood. The blacksmith's face pales. "And burn it. while it's still over the blade."
He looks at the money you're paying him, in advance, and then back to you. Wonder if he knows what you're planning?
Two weeks and three days later, it's ready. You watch him burn the wrap. Has his assistant do it. No one talks. There's nothing left to say. You pull the sword out of the ashes—still hot, it burns the skin off your hand, not that that matters anymore—and give the blacksmith a tip. It's more than what you paid in the first place.
"Well then." You were never good with words. "Got a will in my pocket."
Awkward angle, but it'll work.
Trachea to Tits to Navel to Crotch. It's a wonderful sword. Practically cut yourself in two with one swing. Then you're dying. Real fast, the world's spinning around you. Around and around. She's there with you, arm in arm, you're both young again and everything's so beautiful.
Now you've a metal body, rigid and sharp and drinking up the last of your own blood. The swap is instant. You're like her now. And she's there with you. You laugh, but only she hears you. The blacksmith's screaming.
They find your will right where you said it'd be. Pretty simple stuff, you think.
"Give one of my swords to the strongest person left in town. Give the other to the second strongest." Everyone's hesitant, but you're the real deal, a legend by this point, so they do it. Now all that's left is a little nudging from her and you, and soon you'll get to fight again.
The first time your steel meets hers it's better than any kiss. Hotter than any sex you'd ever had, and more intense than any previous fight. Neither of you has to hold back anymore. It doesn't matter if you kill the other, because that wasn't really you at all. Someone else will come along and pick you up and then you'll start again. Across back alleys, dueling halls, and battlefields, you fight her over and over. There are near misses where you kill a thousand men in search of the one wielding her, too much chaos to find each other. You laugh about it between swings when next you meet. There might be decades where you can't make it happen, years sitting in a chest or armory, but you both know that it's only a matter of time. The mountain of corpses you leave behind will grow higher and higher, until it eclipses the sun. Even then you'll still fight her in the dark. 'Til no hand is left to hold you. On a dead world, you'd spark and scrape against each other long into the eternal night.
The lesbian pervert tattoo artist will do your piece for free if you let her huff some armpit or bulge, but she will pitch a tent every time you whimper or groan from the needle
i love girls who are psychotic i love girls who are delusional i love girls who are bipolar i love girls who are bpd i love schizo girls i love insane girls i love girls who are mad i love girls who don't know what the fuck is wrong with themselves i love girls who are told something is wrong with them i love girls who are angry i love girls who are violent i love girls who have no remorse uhhh
i love girls who cry all the time i love girls who don't sleep i love girls with akithisia i love girls who get scared of everything i love girls with memory loss i love girls who are hypersexual i love girls who are sex repulsed i love girls who can't go outside i love girls who can't walk i love girls who can't make a phone call i love girls who are rude i love girls with flat affect i love girls who see shit i love girls who hear shit i love girls who feel nothing i love girls who feel everything i love girls who forget your name i love girls who age regress i love girl who are more than one girl i love girls who aren't girls uhhh
If you aren't a transfeminist you aren't a feminist.
Transfeminism is the current wave of feminism. It is the only feminist analysis that builds off of all previous ones to actually analyze the social and material conditions of all women today in order to understand our oppression and provide a framework for effectively fighting against patriarchy.
And, of course, you can't liberate any group of women by leaving any of us behind. We are all in chains together. You can't free cis women without freeing trans women.
I did not "decide to become a girl" I was actively suppressing the "girly" desires and things to talk about before realizing I'm a girl due to the expectations that society placed on me
i love girls who are psychotic i love girls who are delusional i love girls who are bipolar i love girls who are bpd i love schizo girls i love insane girls i love girls who are mad i love girls who don't know what the fuck is wrong with themselves i love girls who are told something is wrong with them i love girls who are angry i love girls who are violent i love girls who have no remorse uhhh
i love girls who cry all the time i love girls who don't sleep i love girls with akithisia i love girls who get scared of everything i love girls with memory loss i love girls who are hypersexual i love girls who are sex repulsed i love girls who can't go outside i love girls who can't walk i love girls who can't make a phone call i love girls who are rude i love girls with flat affect i love girls who see shit i love girls who hear shit i love girls who feel nothing i love girls who feel everything i love girls who forget your name i love girls who age regress i love girl who are more than one girl i love girls who aren't girls uhhh
This Pride, make sure every trans woman that you follow, are mutuals with, goon over, or consume their work in general, has a roof over their head, their bills paid, and food in their kitchens.
You wanna call yourselves allies? This is the work. Do it.
Suletta/Miorine, wholesome as it is, has soooo much dark ship potential. Suletta the devoted weapon, the well-trained war-hound on a leash, and Miorine succumbing to the temptation to grab that leash and wield that weapon. Suletta would thank Miorine for using her.
Oh abso-FUCKING-lutely XD
Really, the main reason SuleMio turned out ‘cute and wholesome’ is simply the fact that Miorine happens to be one of the most normal and SANE characters we’ve ever seen in Gundam. Girl is just constantly seeing through ALL of the bullshit around her and, like most sane people would, has long since lost all patience for it.
But of course, if Miorine wasn’t ‘normal’ or sane, and was perhaps a bit more unhinged like so many other Gundam characters…
I mean, say for instance Miorine was more of a Lelouch type character, then holy SHIT, her and Suletta would be UNSTOPPABLE. As well as beautifully fucked-up XD
One particularly relevant mental image/scene I’ve always had for in mind for this is someone, say Shaddiq, Guel or even Prospera, calls Suletta a ‘monster’. Only for Miorine to reply, with completely unhinged, slasher grin;
“Yes. She’s MY monster.”
And Suletta thinks it’s just the most romantic shit ever XD
💬 5 🔁 655 ❤️ 1585 · sulemio but they’re a bit freaky and covered in blood🫶
Really, I think this comic perfectly summarizes what Miorine matching Suletta’s freak looks like :D
Also, something-something, Suletta is basically the Fenrir to Miorine’s Odin, and they end up getting really kinky and freaky about the narrative concept that Suletta may one day ‘devour’ Miorine…
they deleted my girlfriend, princess (url was manicpixiedreamshortstack). it happened while i was on the phone with faer, too.. fae got an email saying that faer account was marked as mature by a real person, and then was gone a couple hours later. no termination email, so there's no way to fight it.
most of these girls, princess included, are only alive because of the connections they made on this website. and staff is actively killing them by ripping these support systems away. this was Princess's only way of making enough money to get by, just like so many trans women tumblr tries to kill
if you could, please send princess and faer partner crow some money, help keep them alive this winter. they've had some expenses recently that have drained all they've got
Princess' computer has been broken for a while now, and needs help getting it replaced, on top of all the other expenses the two of them have. please help, if you can
princess and crow's power went out last night and wont be returning until Monday. all the groceries they just bought are going to spoil, and there's currently no running water either, as the water pump is electric. please reblog and donate, please keep these trans women alive.
sometimes people go "isn't it hard having a rockin' set of cans and also an ass that won't quit?" and i have to go "yes. it is. thank you for seeing my struggle".
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
