The pagan figure of the "son of god" was worshipped as a hermaphrodite as mentioned in previous posts. This was because the figure in question was claimed to have been born with both feminine and masculine traits (especially in the genitals) since there was an intervention done on the fetus while it was still in his mother’s womb that made it so that the child started developing female traits as well – despite having developed as a male initially because the fetus was chromosomically male. (Lucian of Samosata for example blames Hermes for Hermaphroditus’ condition).
The son of god was also claimed to have been followed around by an entourage of people – that mainly practiced the arts of war as well as being focused on the arts of fishing (they were fishermen) and animal husbandry. Such is the case for example for the Myrmidons of Achilles who were fishermen and in Irish mythology for the figure of "Cichol Gricenchos" who was followed around by an entourage of people that relied solely on fishing and fowling. Now, this particular deity is recognizable because he was claimed to have withered feet or to have a limp more in general (the epithet "Gricenchos" meaning precisely that i.e. "of withered feet").
Achilles when he was rendered invulnerable by Thetis was claimed in a more detailed account of his baptism – to have been held over a fire by Thetis and during the act one foot of Achilles burned specifically; giving him a limp during the early years of his life. The young Horus born to Serapis (Osiris) and Isis – the young Horus being called "Harpokrates" in Greek – was claimed to have been born with withered feet; but that’s just one possible explanation given because essentially the child had a limp in his early years so every writer attributed it to various events that happened throughout the child’s life (for example in the case of Achilles they blamed the fire) – because no one was really sure how he got that limp but everyone agreed on the fact that he had one.
Having established the parallels between these figures and their equivalents in Indo-European mythology; the definition of the name "Cichol" needs to be provided now in order to get the full picture. The word "Cichol" comes from the same root as that of the epithet "Cicolluis" that the god Mars had in Celtic territory (the name "Cicolluis" being written and pronounced also as "Cicollus", "Cicolus", "Cicollui" or straight up "Cichol" like the Irish figure as well). The term means "flesh, muscle" and specifically "big amount of muscle, of flesh" – and by metonymy it also refers to the flesh on the breast specifically; thus acquiring the meaning of "big chest" – "big breast" / "fleshy breast" – "very voluminous chest" – "massive overly-sized chest".
The god Cichol Gricenchos was said to have been followed around mostly by women rather than men (there were men in his entourage but the majority of them were women) and this connects us to the myth of Dionysus because Dionysus – as mentioned in previous posts – corresponds to the figure of the "son of god" himself. According to Greek mythology Dionysus was followed around by an entourage of women called the "Meneads" – and this is emphasized also in Nonnus’ Dionysiaca where the god Dionysus is described as a warrior and he’s followed around by a set of women soldiers. This earned Dionysus the nickname "mixothelys" meaning "half-woman" because he was surrounded by women and lived among women sure; but also because of the reasons that were elucidated in this post: https://www.reddit.com/EsotericOccult/s/OeFbFOv7ad – where the figure of the son of god was claimed to have been born a hermaphrodite and to have been raised solely among women during the early years of his childhood.
Now, because of this – the god was thus described as having a very big and protruding chest and his pectorals were so massive and rounded; that they almost resembled female breasts (hence the epithet "Cicolluis" in Celtic mythology). This is also why the god Dionysus was depicted with the rooster and the rooster is also the symbol of the Cretan Zeus called "Velchanos" who’s a god of vegetation; but the Cretan Velchanos despite being worshipped as "Zeus" by the Cretans – was actually equated with Dionysus Zagreus by the Greeks. The rooster or "cock" is the symbol of this god because it represents resurrection every time it crows in the morning; but the iconography of the rooster is also similar to the physical appearance of the god himself – because the rooster has a very protruding chest and sticks its chest out specifically when trying to look threatening: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/81/a6/a5/81a6a5da3c527f3ce0fe1648a7650001.jpg (hence the nature of the god as a warrior because warriors are threatening). Then the rooster’s comb also symbolizes the god’s hair because this deity is typically depicted with reddish hair or a type of blond that looks red under certain conditions. Thus the rooster also embodies the physical appearance of the god and how his chest looked like.
The same imagery is also present in Hermaphroditus’ depictions where his chest is particularly emphasized and almost resembles breasts: https://www.theoi.com/image/K30.1Hermaphroditos.jpg.
Now, from this pagan imagery is where the images of Christ "with breasts" came from – like for example in this depiction from Notre-Dame: https://gcm.rmnet.be/clients/rmnet/content/medias/christus_750.jpg – until they were banned by the church. And the fact that Christ was followed around by an entourage of women was also renown to the Greeks at the time of the foundation of Christianity: "The grand reason why the Gentiles and philosophers of his school persecuted Jesus Christ, was, because he had so many wives; there were Elizabeth, and Mary, and a host of others that followed him." – Celsus, 2nd century. "Wives" referring to "lovers" obviously, not literally wives.
Plutarch in his "Moralia" (2nd century) mentions the women of Argos who in the 5th century BC repulsed the attacks of kings from Sparta after all their husbands and soldiers had died (they basically barricaded themselves along with the children and the elderly inside the city and didn’t let anyone enter until the Spartan king just gave up and left). The surviving women then erected a temple to Ares Enyalius to celebrate the victory – but notice how they didn’t erect a statue to Athena or to Aphrodite Areia (warlike Aphrodite) and neither to Nike or any of the other female goddesses of war. They erected a statue of Enyalios – first of all because Enyalios was the god of courage and he was claimed to be the most courageous god in the entire pantheon; but then also because as mentioned – this pagan figure corresponds to a version of Mars as well and precisely to Enyalius himself; and he was thus considered responsible for the training and arming of women since he had so many female soldiers in his entourage, so when the women of Argos erected a statue to Enyalius they were paying homage to that concept.

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---King---
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---Gordon’s perspective---
My magnum opus reveals himself…
At 275cm, I could count on one hand the number of gigantism afflicted Humans who’ve ever been taller… and all of them died before they hit 35… after living short lives of pain and frailty.
At 338kg of muscle, bone and sinew… ‘frail’ couldn’t be a less fitting descriptor for this man!
His sclerae and pupils both glow with an unearthly bioluminescence that very much conveys the idea of ‘Godking’ to any who see him.
A thick, black beard and long, sleek, straight black hair both spill out from his skull which, while at the more ‘heroic’ proportion of 1:8.5 rather than the more normal 1:7, is still significantly larger than anyone else’s, meaning I was able to expand his brain and, consequently, his intellect, much more than I was for the rest of us… still giving him a cranium dense and thick enough to protect against a direct hit with a low calibre bullet!
Atop his luxuriant beard sits a proud, aquiline hooked nose, which he insisted would make him look kingly and wouldn’t look at all silly.
His internals (mainly heart and lungs) all had to be significantly increased in both size and efficiency to account for the extra strain that servicing such an enormous body places on them.
If I could have figured out a way to further fortify the extremities of his circulatory system without impeding their permeability, I probably could have got him another half a metre or so taller!
My old professor could definitely have done it but… something tells me the smug little French hermaphrodite wouldn’t have gone for such a project… even absent the wider context of everything Bastion stands for(!)
From his neck down, he wears a thick, regal looking set of enamelled, durasteel plate armour, trimmed with golden accents.
From his shoulders flows a cape, in the same stark white and gold.
Atop his head perches a crown with tall, angular palisades, embossed with geometric lines of gold and with a 6cm wide, table cut diamond of flawless clarity, sitting over his bushy black eyebrows.
In his right hand he holds the handle of a 20kg plasmasword with a 2m long, durasteel blade (the only part of his ensemble where the durasteel isn’t covered with a glossy white layer of enamel.)
The *boom*s of (probably getting on for) 400kg of man and durasteel meeting the floor, with each of his footfalls, utterly fill the room with reverberation.
Looking at my greatest achievement, it’s difficult to picture the man he was when I first met him; the 175cm tall, 70kg lean little New Coloradoan Colonel, Cyrus ‘Hannibal’ Postlethwaite, who’d been put in charge of organising the Terran Werewolf Programme. Stay-behind divisions, meant to cause chaos behind enemy lines after they’d been passed over.
That programme ended up sidelined long before the end of the War, after it became clear that there wasn’t going to be a significant expansion in our occupation.
When he realised the flaccid half-victory the Terran governments were going to settle for, this man used the authority he still had to take the Werewolf Programme and turn it into the Revanchists.
After the Betrayal, it took years for me to transform that scrawny Colonel into a Godking… but it was so worth it!
The clear awe he inspires in any lazarites seeing him up close for the first time is priceless!
He looks like a man to whom the title ‘Emperor of the Terrans’ belongs!
When we found our way here, we negotiated with the local clan leaders to permit us to stay, with the promise that they can ride our coattails to a position of galactic domination alongside us… A promise we have little intention of actually honouring, not that we can let them know that(!)
Most of the planet’s native populace don’t even know we’re here, the crater our city is in having a rather generous no-fly zone extending into the deserts around it, for those odd flights that would otherwise take locals from one side of the habitable zone to the other, over us.
At this point, my King sits on his outsized throne, slinging his cape to fall over the right arm, his right hand resting on the guard of his enormous leafblade sword (that’s tip adds another little gouge to the collection in the floor, on my side of that seat.)
His left hand reaches to between Artazostre’s ears to stroke through her snow white fur.
The giant gives a ferocious grin around the table, exposing the thumbnail sized teeth I gave him, and speaks “Dearest friends! Nobles!… Terrans!… I’m certain you must be wondering why you were summoned here on such short notice!” in an affected midAtlantic accent.
No one answers.
We all know better than to interrupt Cyrus when he’s speaking…
“Well…” he booms “…I shan’t keep you waiting! I’m told by Barron Parr, over there, that a very… distressing video has been released onto the galnet recently… which he learned of after one of his subordinates was sent it by a lazarite… It, somehow, managed to slip our censorship and make it onto. Bastion’s. intranet!”
He lets his words sit… outwardly smiling but clearly not happy!
“Now…” he continues “…I’m sure everyone bar the good Barron is wondering what in Terra’s name could have been in this video… so I shall hand you over to him to explain.”
The tall, well built, blond, Nova Britannian Guardcaptain, Barron Harold ‘Saxon’ Parr, stands and clears his throat “*ehem*…Thank you, Your Majesty…” before turning to address the rest of us “…As King Cyrus says; earlier today, one of my guardsmen was sent this video by a lazarite acquaintance from the lower city. He had the wherewithal to immediately bring it to my attention. We deleted the video and tracked down the owners of any device that had accessed it… Fortunately, that wasn’t many… We quickly managed to arrest the 27 individuals who’s devices had been used to view it and are questioning them, now, with regards to who else they might have shown it or told about it… We’re fairly confident we’ll have them all in hand soon… The content of the video is one Kara Stellan, positively identified as one of the operatives assigned to the crew of the Vulture, the ship belonging to our assassin Jackson ‘Scout’ Stetter (also known as Death) at the time he was apprehended… It appears that Ms Stellan has been made… aware of her nature as a lazarite… This video is performing exactly as it was intended to… The traitors are using this girl as a propaganda piece, attempting to foment a lazarite rebellion against our rule…”
Many of the other Councillors mutter to eachother at that, clearly disturbed.
I’m quite disturbed myself!
The lazarites becoming aware of the Lazarus Programme?… It’s a potential worst case scenario!
We could lose everything…
Avoiding this exact eventuality was one of the strongest arguments against keeping the lazarites’ nature from them in the first place!
We could have openly and honestly told them what they were and how they came to be here!
We just decided that the propagandic value of the ‘you were orphaned and we took you in and raised you’ angle was just too great to ignore (when compared to the, far less compelling, ‘you were a casualty we brought back to life to serve as a labourer and footsoldier to us’!)
Not even mentioning the way them not being born naturally undermines our position on the primitives!
“I’ll play you the video now…” states Parr, raising a screen from the centre of the table.
A woman appears.
Her voluminously curly hair is a vivid red and her eyes are a bright emerald green.
She wears comfortable looking clothing and sits in a room that’s daubed in therapeutic blues.
“Hi… my name is Kara Stellan and I’m speaking to you from a medium security women’s prison… at a location I won’t divulge… I was raised on a planet called ‘Bastion’, ruled by a terrorist organisation who call themselves the ‘Revanchists’…” she starts, speaking in a lazarite accent, quite similar to the way the Starborn tend to speak.
“…I say ‘raised’ because I don’t know if I was actually born there… Actually, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t, if for no other reason than I probably wasn’t born full stop!… I probably came out of a tube… I’m not a naturalborn Human… I’m a clone of this woman who you should be seeing on screen beside me right now…” the same face (with a clearly very different personality behind it) appears beside the speaker in a Wartime photo “…Her name was Esme Taylor… She was born ‘Esme Reid’, on Earth, on the 31st of October, 2664, and died on New Australia, on the 1st of January, 2686, at the age of 21… At 27… I’ve already lived longer than she ever did…”
If her sample was collected on my homeworld, there’s a not insignificant chance I did it myself!
I was back there in the last year of the War, one of about 200 or so Revanchists, laying the groundwork for the Lazarus programme.
“…She died heroically, at the Battle of the Murnma Gorge, crushed by collapsing rubble when her battalion refused to yield to the army of War King Vlixrothju… and were shelled…”
Ah… odds of me having been the one to put the swab in this woman’s mouth just jumped from less than 1:200… to a little more than 1:6… I was there with five others and, as I recall, none of them worked as fast as I did.
I may be confabulating it but I feel like I might even remember that vivid red hair on one of the mottled corpses…?
“Now… you might be wondering how I know this! Well, that would be because, when I was arrested, it was by her son… Victor ‘Cuddles’ Taylor…”
Scowls and scoffs emanate from every councillor at the mention of that posterboy for everything wrong with postWar Terrans!
Heedless of our reaction, the prerecorded girl continues “…he recognised me… convinced me to get a DNA test… a test which proved I’m not her… Someone took her genes, edited out all the bits they didn’t like and grew me in a tube before handing me off to an orphanage on Bastion… to live the next 26 years thinking I was a War orphan and that subH… that gardenworlders had killed my parents!… Now, if you’re watching this on Bastion (and I really hope you are) I just want you to know that, unless you actually remember the War… there’s a good chance you’re like me! A clone! Made as nothing more than livestock! Meant to be moulded into the ones who made you’s idea of a perfect little Terran(!) They don’t care about you! They never did!… I know you probably want to call me a liar right now! Hell! If someone had told me all of this last year, I’d’ve called them a liar, for sure!… But I’m not lying!… They lied!… They lied to you about everything! The galaxy isn’t like they said… That’s something it didn’t take me learning I was a clone to notice(!)… They said the Terran government was subverted by traitors but, if anyone, they’re the traitors!… They’re the ones who went against the majority of Terrans’ will for Peace and started plotting to take over the galaxy to revenge themselves for the past! They’re the ones who wasted time and resources skulking around battlefields, stealing DNA to make us, instead of helping out while the War was still happening! They’re the ones lying! Not me!… I am begging you: Stop listening to their lies! Stop doing as they say! Rise up and demand to know the truth!… Escape, if you can! Though, I know that’s easier said than done… If you can surrender yourself to Terran forces somewhere, they’ll protect you!… I know Bastion and the Revanchists don’t have anything like the resources to take them head on!” she sits back and folds her arms “Now, to anyone not from Bastion who wants to do their part to take down an organisation of slaving terrorists, this is all the information I can give you; Bastion is a planet, somewhere in the middle rim of the galaxy… the part of it I’m from is a desert where it averages around 50°C and it’s always daytime. I don’t know what the dark side of the planet looks like. The city of Bastion is situated in a large meteor impact crater, about 10km in diameter, with a prominent rebound peak at it’s centre. The city houses around 16 million Humans and about half as many enslaved gardenworlders (though, I’m guessing that number varies up or down depending on how recently fresh shipments of them have arrived… There’s a fairly high rate of attrition!)… The planet’s gravity is naturally a little lower than Earth Standard, I’d say about 0.75G? 1.6 Galactic Standard? 1.65 maybe?… That’s more or less everything I can tell you about it… I wish I could give you more to go on but, for obvious reasons, they don’t trust most people who live there to know exactly where in the galaxy it is, much less give us access to ships that could take us on and off world!… All I can say is, it took me about 4 months to get from there to Citadel but I wasn’t driving or allowed to look at any navigation for the first 3 of those months, so I have no idea how circuitous the route they took was… I know it’s a big galaxy but, hopefully, a lot of people see this and, hopefully, someone gets an idea about where Bastion is! If you think that someone is you, please… call the holocom hotline that should be linked on screen now! Let the Terran authorities know… even if it’s just a hunch… Though, I have also been asked to say; if you think you know where Bastion is, please don’t go looking for it yourself!… If you’re right, you may not come back!”
Parr stops the video there.
“As you can see, this video represents a grave threat to our security; external and internal… In terms of small mercies; we have the fact that our information control worked… She wasn’t able to give a full accounting of this planet, crucially leaving out the fact that it’s also home to a species of subHumans… Their renowned isolationism should protect us from too much scrutiny. On the other hand, she’s managed to give our proximity to the galactic core, our climate and the fact that we’re on the sunward side of a tidally locked planet!… That’s a lot of breadcrumbs, considering how close our nearest Terran neighbours are! And then, of course, there’s the revelation of the Lazarus Programme… if 3 out of every 4 people in this city learn that they’re not naturalborn and most of the remainder learn that all those ‘War orphans’ weren’t, it stands to be massively destabilising to our ability to govern!”
“A thorny issue indeed, Barron Parr… I commend you and the guards for catching it so quickly… even if that praise must be tempered by the fact that something like this made it onto our intranet in the first place(!)” observes Cyrus with an unreadable smile “Now… on to the question of what to do with all those who’ve already seen that video… Duke Chandler…?” his head lolls to me, lazily “…the Lazarus Program is your baby… What do you suggest?”
Acting unperturbed I turn to Parr and ask “How many of the ones you’ve arrested so far were lazarites?”
He checks his notes on his holo before answering “22 of the 27.”
“Anyone irreplaceable?” I follow up.
“Not particularly.” he shrugs.
“Hmmm… if it were one or two people who’d seen it, I’d say send them to me and I’d just wipe their memories… a city this size, a handful of people turning up a bit addled around the same time would likely go under the radar… but, with so many, I don’t think it would be possible to release them slowly enough not to get people asking questions, one way or another… I think… if anyone irreplaceable turns up, just swear them to secrecy and put them on the surveillance list for the next few years… For the rest of them, I don’t see anything to do but dispose of them and tell those that ask that they were executed for subversion.”
“Agreed.” smiles Cyrus.
“I’ll see that it’s done, Your Majesty.” acknowledges Parr.
“WHAT!?” cries the horrified voice of one not sat at the table.
Every eye in the room turns to look at the guardsman who just spoke, stood over by the wall.
“You’re just going to kill them!?” he asks, dismayed “They’ve done nothing wrong! Why not just wipe their memories and say it was a chemical leak at the jail or something!?”
I look from the idiot guard to Cyrus and see him fixing the poor boy with a long, hard stare…
I wince at what I know is about to happen.
Cyrus lifts his enormous bulk from his throne and lays his gargantuan sword across its arms.
“Stay, Arta…” he calmly orders the sabretooth making to follow him, without looking at her.
Smiling sweetly, he walks behind my chair and over to where the guardsman who just questioned him is.
Looking down on the boy (who I hadn’t noticed until he spoke out of turn) like a father about to impart a serious life lesson, Cyrus smiles “Take off your helmet, son… let me see your face.”
The boy hesitates a moment before transferring his plasmaspear to his shield hand to pull off the fine Kingsguard helm before placing it down on the floor by his feet.
“What’s your name, son?” smiles the King with all the outward, genial sweetness of a kindly uncle.
“K-Kingsguard Shaun Ossino, Your Majesty.” he stammers, visibly unnerved by the mountain of man looking down at him.
“And… how long have you been a Kingsguard, Shaun?” he smiles, leaning down conspiratorially, like he and the boy are sharing secrets.
“About s-six months now, Your Majesty.”
“Is that right?” Cyrus patronises “And… I know you’ve not spoken up at me like you just did before… So, please… tell me why you are now?”
A little desperately, the boy says “I-it… it’s not right, Your Majesty!… They may be clones but they’re still Humans!… They didn’t know what they were doing when they opened that video! Why not just wipe them an come up with an explanation plausible enough that anyone who questions it gets brushed off as a conspiracy theorist?… It’s no less likely to get people talking than that many people all being executed for subversion at once!”
Cyrus’s luminous eyes were closed and his beard wagged up and down in a sagely nod as he listened to the boy’s yammering.
He opens them to once more look into his guardsman’s eyes and ask “Tell me, Shaun… do you know what a ‘sacrifice’ is?”
Dolefully, the boy answers “Yes… Your Majesty… I know…”
“Good…!” Cyrus beams “…because our path to claim Humanity’s birthright will require many!”
The guardsman’s brow twists in dismay.
“Oh… *tsk**tsk**tsk**tsk*!” Cyrus tuts, feigning consolation “…so full of mercy, Shaun!… Unfortunately, unlike you, I’ve got no mercy left to give… Now… I want you to repeat after me; ‘ruthlessness is mercy on ourselves’… Can you do that for me?”
“R-ruthlessness is mercy on ourselves… Your Majesty.”
Beaming the last sunny smile this boy is ever going to see, Cyrus says “Good boy!” before slamming the unhelmeted head into the white stone wall behind him with a sickening *crack*, hard enough to kill him instantly.
The guardsman’s body crumples limply to the ground, revealing a bloodsplattered chunk of masonry missing from the wall, as his spear clatters down beside him.
“*tsk*…Such a waste!…” laments Cyrus before rounding on Parr and jabbing a thick finger to the body, saying “…I want that armor cleaned up and put on someone with a spine in their back and a brain in their skull by the end of the week, Parr!”
“It will be done, Your Majesty…” answers Parr, averting his wide eyes down to the table, clearly realising how his subordinate’s idiocy just burned through any good will he might have earned by taking care of the censorship lapse.
Cyrus strides back to the throne at my left, picking up his sword and sitting back down, placing his left hand back between Artazostre’s ears.
“So… Stoker…” he barks at Circe’s hologram opposite me, all pretence of joviality evaporated “…do you think you can track down the prison this Stellan woman is being held at?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, quite easily, but I would strongly advise against dispatching her.” smiles the uncanny face of the woman, seeming perfectly at ease.
“Oh?… Not for mercy’s sake, surely?!” he growls, gesturing over to the body on the floor to demonstrate what his likely reaction would be to such talk.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, still wearing that creepy smile, and softly says “Not at all. My reasoning is very much pragmatic, Your Majesty.”
“Then explain it.” orders Cyrus, simply.
“Well, right now, the majority of those outside Bastion who see that video have little reason to take her seriously and little reason to care. If we break into that prison to kill her, all that we’ll achieve is making her story ×100 higher profile and ×100 as credible. The traitors also won’t have released that video until after they were confident they had everything useful out of her. There’s no point in spending energy to lock a stable door when the horse bolted so long ago…” she explains with effortless grace.
Cyrus studies her for a moment before cracking a smile and saying “And that’s why you’re my Mistress of Whispers, Stoker!” apparently satisfied “Let her languish into obscurity then!”
Circe smirks and, in her sensuous half whisper, says “You’re too kind to me, Your Majesty… While we are all gathered here, I myself have some intelligence to relay from Citadel?”
He extends his hand to her and says “Please, Duchess… Good news I hope!”
The dollish features of the face I gave her perform a complicated dance before she answers “Some bad news first, I’m afraid… While I was playing with one of my little toys from the UTCIS earlier today, he told me that Jackson ‘Scout’ Stetter is dead…”
Cyrus sighs “*hhhhhhh*…Well… that’s disappointing… he was a reliable agent until he went chasing after that white whale of his!… But I had sort of already written him off when he failed to make contact after his break out.”
“But, Your Majesty… those weren’t the only sweet nothings my little plaything whispered to me… I think I may have a potential solution for our durasteel problem!”
Cyrus sits bolt upright, as do I, as does half the room!
Our inability to make durasteel with the limited resources on this planet (restricting us only to what we originally brought here and the small amount we can smuggle in) is one of Bastion’s longest running bugbears!
“You have my full attention, Circe!” says Cyrus “Tell me what you need!”
She smiles and bats her (too large) eyes before answering “Actually, Your Majesty, while I appreciate it… the one who needs to be saying that right now isn’t you…” she extends her hand across the table and pouts “…It’s the unrequited love of my life just there(!)”
I frown and splay my fingertips against my chest, cocking my eyebrow quizzically before asking “Me, Circe?… What could I have to do with solving the durasteel problem?”
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Tip me on Ko-Fi.
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Discord
Dramatis Personae

Hi all, so this is essentially what is said in the title. I need to know if I am trans or not. But first I need to provide some backstory so that you can fully grasp the conundrum I am having. Large post so be prepared! Also I am sorry if this is not the subreddit to post this to, if there's a better one please tell me and I’ll post it there. (P.S. there will be some slightly NSFW topics in this post, nothing serious just the mention of genitals and underwear. If this makes you uncomfortable then I urge you to prioritize yourself and not read further into my post)
To preface I have a pretty serious anxiety disorder and part of that includes extreme decision paralysis. I promise this will be important later.
So! I am AMAB and starting back in 2020 and going until 2022 I started working out and taking really good care of my health I went from weighing around 210 lbs to weighing 178 lbs, during this time I followed a strict regimen of skincare, hygiene, and followed an intensive diet (I had an eating disorder at the time so not really a choice lol). Something to note is that I had never felt confident in my body, I didn't like how I looked, I hate my body hair, and have never felt as if my reflection matched ME. Don't get me wrong, I didn’t find myself ugly but it just felt as if I was looking at someone else's reflection that I could move around if I wished.
But once I slimmed down and worked on my appearance I felt super happy with myself! I felt like I looked so pretty! and feminine! My skin was super smooth. I started shaving my whole body. I paid attention to how I smelt and wanted if not to smell feminine then at least smell good. I found myself falling in love with my appearance if i'm being honest. Truth be told I wasn't super feminine looking back then but I felt that was.
Slowly during that time I started perusing the trans forums after I discovered them in a Click video and took a particular interest in the egg_irl and I literally became the meme of, “OOH I feel so called out by these memes…… still cis tho.”. During this time I started wearing a corset around the house and under my clothes when I went to the store and such. I also began to wish I was a girl so that I could wear cute feminine underwear! I also began to wish I had boobs so that I could wear bras and such as well as many other stereotypically feminine things such as skirts, dresses and crop tops.
At that point I was thinking that I might be a femboy or a crossdresser as even though I DESPERATELY wanted to have boobs I also wanted to keep my penis. It is important to note that I also really wanted to look like a LOT of girls that I had seen pictures of online but I also wanted to look like some of the guys, and while I wanted to be super slim and feminine I also wanted muscles and such, in specific I really felt a lot of envy for how @/TheLeanBeefPatty looked/looks and she became a massive inspiration for me. But because of my decision paralysis as well as the fact that my family REALLY isn't super cool with trans people I struggled with whether I was a femboy or if I was just attracted to femboys and stopped thinking about this altogether. During that time a lot of the workouts I had adopted into my routine were from @/CHRISHERIA and @/THENX so I decided that I wanted to push towards looking like Chris Heria instead of a femboy, this decision came primarily because of the way my mom talked about trans people as well as the constant little digs my mom would make towards me for shaving my body hair (I was 16 at the time). (All the @'s refer to youtube)
During 2022 I continued flipping rapidly with how I wanted to look, a big inhibitor being that I thought that I could never look as pretty and feminine as the women I saw online, that also includes a lot of the trans women that I saw online. During this time I came to the realization that I don't want to look Like Chris Heria and didn't want to be so heavily muscled unless I was a woman. But by this time I had already bulked up and gained a lot of muscle. I felt really defeated and this honestly just reinforced this idea in my head that I would never look how i wanted because I was born a man. Well because of this and other outside factors, primarily the outside factors, I stopped working out completely and started gaining weight heavily and completely ruined all the progress that I had built up over the two years. Needless to say I wasn't in the best state of mind and deeply regret losing all of my progress and I now weigh far more than I ever have at 264 lbs with some stretch marks that I wish I didn't have.
But going back to the point It is now 2024, I am freshly 18 as of March 26th and I have had an amazing and wonderful girlfriend for the past 1.6 years and I have been kinda just now realizing that I might be a teeny tiny bit trans, and by that I mean that even though I want to keep having a penis for a multitude of reasons I consistently find myself wishing that I was a girl. And thinking back on it I realize that I have always kinda wished I was a girl. Back when I was 6 I remember asking my friends if they would be happier as girls and them saying no or not really understanding the question and laughing it off. I remember being very confused by the no answers but I just moved on. Another time when I was around 4 I remember thinking that I’m super glad that I had super feminine arms that were delicate and wishing my fingers were like my grandmas who had very pretty slender fingers. I also remember the feeling of dread I had when I started growing thick body hair on my legs and chest and such. When I was 15 I remember wishing that I had boobs and wishing that I was a shapeshifter so that I could be a girl/boy/hermaphrodite/ect. Recently I have been wishing that I had asked to see a doctor to get an evaluation or something and wishing that I was taking estrogen but maybe I’m just looking for attention, ya know? I also haven't ever really wanted to have barbies or stereotypical girly toys or anything like that like I have heard in a decent amount of trans stories. I am honestly super scared that I am faking it lol because I don't know how much of this is just wanting to look the way I want because part of being a shapeshifter would be switching to being a boy as well sometimes.
I am decently scared that I would ruin my life by taking estrogen and finding out that I am not Trans but having already started hrt, like what if I accidentally perfectly deceive the doctors by saying everything in such a way they think I’m trans when I am not?? But at the same time I am scared that I have already waited too long and have missed my chance for an ‘optimal’ transition and that my hesitancy might have ruined any possibility I had of having the body I want because even if not a girl I really do want to be feminine past just a femboy.
(About the bigotry in my family. It’s pretty heavy in some aspects as my entire family is decently far right republican bordering on being part of the MAGA cult. For me I have always been an ally and am bi openly, much to the dismay of my mom, and have never let the bs they spout get to me or influence how I feel about the lgbtq comunity or influence what I stand for. But me being openly an ally for trans people and calling them out when they say transphobic bs... just feels different than telling them I might be trans and asking to see a doctor about it. We live in the states btw and specifically in california.)
So! There's the post you lovely, they's, them's, He’s, she’s and everything in between and outside! I ask you, the experts, to provide a bit of insight. Do you think I am trans? If so am I nonbinary or am I transfem? And if I am not well then I guess that's that then lol……. ........ .......

Hello everyone!
I decided to write a collection of childhood memories of metaphysical experiences I had, having the experiences of a starseed. I honestly don't have all that good of a memory, especially of my childhood up to the present time. Though, for all I can remember, the experiences with the non-human and the experiences with 'magical' beings, or phenomenon, never leave me. I thought it would be fun to write them down and share them with you to connect experiences we all might have had among us. I hope it is allowed, otherwise I am more than accepting to remove it.
I also want to point out this post is not for flex, but really to share the experiences as they are. I love to discuss!
My family from my mother's side has always been open to non-human and magical experiences. They were able to see the dead, but also saw fairies. My mom had her own experiences of feeling non-human. Feeling as though she was not supposed to have human-feet, but have hooves, or no feet at all. She felt horns on her head and identified more as a hermaphrodite. She also felt attracted to angelic beings. During her child years she was very mischiveous, and had been hospitalized as well for psychiatrical reasons, due to spirit beings severly tormenting her. She had also experienced being able to fly, at least once. Eventually joining a community which her mother was also a part of, which helped her stay grounded. The Rosen-christians. A gnostic branch.
I always grew up spiritually, which started from the Rosen-christian community, in which we were also baptized. I eventually left, because their values did not quite align with mine as I grew up older. I ended up moving on so I could explore the world beyond their teachings, as something felt quite missing.
The energy of their spaces was quite amazing though, their energy field made you feel completely at peace, at home, like a totally different reality/world. People would tell my mother we (me and my siblings) had a pure white light radiating from our bodies, our skin like candle wax.
During the years, I had phases of incredible homesickness, which presisted even to the present day. To the point of fever and illness. Feeling like I was not human, feeling like I was born in a body, that did not fit me. I wanted to crawl out of this skin. I yearned for the woods, the mountains and the seas. Badly I always yearned to get out and be free. I felt like I really had to be able to shapeshift, transform in all kinds of animals, including what was considered mythical. I had dreams changing in all kinds of life forms. Being complete oneness with the natural world and also a feeling of needing to do something. Mortality felt terrifying. Feeling like I was supposed to be an immortal being.
Mental shifting was quite common for me at the time. Speech impairment, speaking a totally different language from the usual human language. I did not speak normal language until the age of 4-5, and still had trouble, which I had to grow to learn through spell-therapy. Psychologists wanted to diagnose me with different kinds of things like autism, high-sensitivity, among others, but never fit any of the boxes. They ended up labeling me as just a special kid. (luckily figuring out to have ADHD as an adult later in life) I had an incredible rich imagination, strong visualization skills and severe difficulty to speak to people my age. I felt drawn to people a few years older than me, because I enjoyed discussions on concepts of life, the meaning of it. Though because of it, it was very hard to make friends. Being considered weird, and annoying. The only thing that thrived me to get some attention was that I was able to draw. Growing up agreeable so that people would like me.
Invisibility skill was very common. People didn't see me often, as I could quietly approach without them being able to notice me. Although, it was not my intention, the result of it was always quite humerous for me. I could also skip out on middle school activities because of it without them knowing I was actually there, or not. Absentees were not applied.
I often got sick as a kid, and during the times of sickness, I had experiences of Light-blue humanoid beings appearing to me, speaking to me of my nature. The best example I have of what they looked like, are those misty beings from LOTR. In which Frodo saw these when putting on the ring. The sensation of a different realm or dimension closing in to me, as the sound of heavy big foot steps closing drew closer to me, but did not see what it was. It felt like giants.
Whenever I pondered deeply on something, I was met with the sensation of what I felt as gravity pulling towards me. As if at any moment, the moon or the universe would crash down on me at any moment. I have a handful of times this happened to me, the first time also when I was ill.
Incredible stamina and speed, and an Incredible climber. My mom told me of an experience of me, an almost 1 year old, climbing a tree until its top. Another mother warned her about it as she saw me in the top of a tree. I really loved climbing. I still do. It's that I would probably look weird as an adult. Swimming was also a great pleasure. It was also something I was really good at. Though I never thought to do all of these competetively. Running tests or endurance tests in PE I always was the last woman to stand. I also just really liked to win, but I never did against men.
A few times of encounters with ghosts or spirits. One of a little boy, another of a little girl, and another of a woman screaming right in my ear, but also seeing the full physical manifestation of them approaching behind someone's back and then dissappearing behind them. Also behind trees. All of them have always left me confused. If I was imagining it.
Encounters with what appeared to be gnomes. This one was actually still a few years ago after I officially awakened to my Kitsune soul. Me, my partner, my sister and a friend of ours were sitting in the grass at night where we all saw the shadows of small people running through the grass from left to right. It was as clear as day. That same night when we tried to walk back towards our hostel, we had the experience of a warping. We certainly knew for sure the hostel was supposed to be in in front of us, but then we found out it was suddenly way behind us. As if we were tricked by the faeries. The area also had people celebrating faeries yearly.
Seeing an actual dragon, and also having a picture of it. This was in 2018. I do not share the picture unless you want it through DM. I like to give these beings a bit of privacy. While the real life view also gave off the full fledged appearance of one, the captured picture only shows half of its features, while my phone camera was supposed to be 24MP, which was quite good at the time and shouldn't have made it look like a potatoe picture. But it did. That's why I also believe they can cloack themselves interdimensionally to make it difficult to capture the evidence of 'cryptids' I had another encounter with a dragon causing a storm among the town. I did not capture this one, because it was quick, and not as dense and physical as the first one I saw.
Animals are always quite attracted to me. Animals seeked my guardianship/protection quite a few times. I also adored animals way more than humans, though getting older I also grew some attachments to them as well. I know I also want to help people.
Objects I knew were for sure where they were supposed to be, were not, and appeared in spots I was definitely sure I did not put them. (personal objects) this could've maybe just been forgetfulness, but it's still quite weird. Sometimea they would dissappear completely.
Eye color shifts. My eyes have appeared 3 colored (green, yellow, purple) and golden. My ears appear normally dark brown.
I guess that's about it for now..memory is poor, so I can probably not remember everything. I hope you enjoy this collection of experiences though!
Thank you for reading.

From The Hounds of Actaeon: The Magical Origins of Public Relations and Modern Media by Mauricio Loza
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Saint Vitus, possessed nuns and dancing children
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It is important to mention that the epidemics of 1374 and 1518, like most registered cases of choreomania, having something in common: the presence of extreme circumstances that subjected their respective populations to unusual levels of stress and anxiety. In the case of the Rhine Valley, the outbreaks of choreomania overlap with the most affected areas of one of the worst floods of the fourteenth century which took place in the first months of the same year. Historian of medicine John Waller comments that the chronicles of the time talk of “the waters of the Rhine rising 34 feet, of flood waters pouring over town walls, of homes and market places submerged, and of decomposing horses bobbing along watery streets.” In the decade prior to 1518 the region of Strasbourg was hit by a terrible famine and a succession of exceptionally cold winters that spread all sorts of suffering and illness among the population. “Bread prices reached their highest levels for a generation, thousands of starving farmers and vine growers arrived at the city gates, and old killers like leprosy and the plague were joined by a terrifying new affliction named syphilis.” These outbreaks of St. Vitus Dance could be understood as a form of purification, a collective catharsis after a particularly traumatic event for a population. The mechanism would function as follows: a person’s pneumatic currents adopts a certain configuration that results in dance-like movements in which the sexual energy begins to flow freely among the population infecting the most susceptible individuals. The mechanism would be similar to that of the Saturnalias and other festivities of the ancient world that still survive in the form of carnivals.
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In 1627 Jeannes des Agnes, the mother superior of the convent of Loudun in the region of New Aquitaine, fell in love with a priest of the locality named Grandier. “When I did not see him;, she later confessed ‘I burned with desire for him.’ In consequence, Jeanne felt overwhelming worthlessness and guilt. After weeks of painful penance and introspection, she fell into a dissociative state during which she repeatedly accused Grandier of plotting with Satan to maker her lust after him.” Soon more and more nuns fell prey to a collective delirium, all pointing to the unfortunate priest as the cause of their ills. After an investigation by the Inquisition Father Grandier was condemned to the stake. Apart from revealing the openly erotic character of hysteria, this example allows us to appreciate how “a deep, guilty longing for human intimacy could trigger collective breakdowns. This is in part why, during their possession attacks, dissociating nuns often behaved with alarming lewdness: lifting their habits, simulating, copulation, and giving their demons names such as Dog’s Dick, Fornication, even Ash-Coloured Pussy.” The implicit eroticism in these hysterical crises hardly needs to be emphasized; it is a sudden release of sexual energy that, because it cannot express the conscious or unconscious desires of the psyche, takes the form of a demonic possession in which the pneuma “explodes” - so to speak - producing hallucinations, involuntary movements and sexual postures in order to provide some measure of psychological and physical relief. As in the case of the hysterical patients of the Salpetriere, an unhealthy environment, lacking opportunities for the development of sexuality, together with the fear, guilt and misogyny that characterizes our tradition, becomes fertile ground for the emergence of all types of individual and collective psychosomatic disorders.
<…>
A Dangerous Podcast
Disparities by Slavoj Zizek
“The difference between this and the first mode of disavowal is obvious: in the first mode, we are dealing with the straight confusion between an object/person and the properties that belong to it only on behalf of its inscription into a symbolic network (to quote Marx, a king is a king only because his subjects treat him as a king, but it appears to them that they treat him as a king because he is in himself a king), while in the second case, the illusion is generated purposefully and consciously (the subject produces an appearance in order to dupe another, and then he ends up falling into his own trap and believing in it himself). One should note how, although the cynical manipulator consciously cheats and is in this sense less naive than the subject of the first mode of disavowal, he ends up believing in a much more direct and naive way: he fully falls into his own trap, in contrast to the first mode in which the subject retains to the end of the distance towards his belief ('I know very well it's not true ...').”
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Notes: Don’t consider Bataille a ‘cynical manipulator’ per say, but I’m reminded here of Kojève’s assessment, that Bataille is a magician who fell for his own trick. The event that also comes to mind is the account that emerges of the Nyemo Incident in On The Cultural Revolution in Tibet: The Nyemo Incident of 1969 By Melvyn C. Goldstein, when a young nun was possessed by warrior-king, leading a mob that proceeded to mutilate and execute numerous people (Tibetan and Han) the general reading we tend to get from Exile-aligned academics is that the Nyemo incident is an extension of earlier “emancipatory” ethnic conflicts in the region, the picture that emerges is a little more complex. It appears instead that the young nun was very much aligned with a faction of Red Guards in the region, which was warring with another faction, the incident in turn can be read as a peculiarly “Tibetan” and “Folkish” manifestation of the Greater Cultural Revolution occurring in China. Does this take away from the larger narrative of Tibetans rebelling against Tibet’s reintegration into China following the collapse of the Qing Dynasty? Not necessarily. These matters are complicated and the forces we are touching upon are Beyond good and evil, beyond revolution and reaction. Reminded of this bit I read from Zizek’s essay Bureaucracy as a Machine of Jouissance:
‘“A decade or so ago, there was a rebellion of Cuban refugees detained at the Guantanamo base: its direct cause was that one group of refugees received lower quality orange juice than another group. The very trifling character of what triggered the violent uprising is indicative: not a big injustice or large-scale suffering, but a minimal, ridiculous difference, especially for people who just came from Cuba, a country with severe food shortages. Does this not make it clear that the cause immediately triggering a rebellion is, by definition, trifling, a pseudo-cause signaling that what is at stake is the relationship to the Other? However, we should not dismiss such fights as ridiculous. In Poland during German occupation, all Polish sport clubs were officially disbanded, but football (soccer) matches were tolerated by the occupying authority. Especially in the Carcow Governorship, dozens of clubs formed and competed, and every summer a big Championship of Cracow was organized, where in 1943 weird things happened (remember, we are in a country united against the German occupiers whose treatment of the local population was extremely brutal, where starvation was a permanent threat, etc.). During and after the games,
“players, officials and supporters of teams would fight each other - on August 1, 1943, during a game between Łagiewianka and Wisła, a group of Łagiewianka officials and fans entered the pitch to beat up the referee and Wisła players. The game was ended eight minutes before time. A week later, there were disturbances during games Groble - Nadwiślan (in Borek Fałęcki), and Dąbski - Czarni (in Rakowice), and Blue Police had to intervene. Due to those disturbances, on August 10, 1943, all games were cancelled. The decision was changed after the August 15 meeting, but it did not help, as soon afterwards, during the game Rakowiczanka - Cracovia, further riots took place. On Sunday, October 17, 1943, at 3 p.m., final game of the 1943 Kraków Championship took place at Garbarnia Stadium, with some 10,000 spectators. The game between Wisła and Cracovia ended with a gigantic fight between supporters of both teams, after referee Tadeusz Milusiński awarded a penalty kick to Cracovia, after Wisła’s player touched the ball with a hand in the box. In response, Wisła’s Mieczysław Gracz kicked the referee, and Wisła’s players left the pitch, urged by their officials. Fights between angry fans moved on to the streets of Kraków’s district of Podgórze.”
Is there not something of Bataiilean sovereignty in such a stance of momentarily forgetting the big struggle for survival against the brutal foreign enemy and focusing on a trifling competition? Can we imagine the show of Polish soccer fans fighting each other in front of the true enemy (German soldiers) in the public? Was this not a demonstration of inner strength and freedom? Such cases compel us to complicate Marx’s opposition of use value and exchange value.”’
Heidegger’s Dasein in existential revolt against the forces which seemingly wish to extinguish it.
Roughly, Bataille defined Fascism as an effort to mobilize, utilize, and reintegrate these heterogenous forces into the Homogenous State. The Jester is a beloved figure within the court after all. Haiti’s Papa Doc Duvalier actively incorporated Vodou Societies into his Regime, that had in fact proved a great strength for him, adopting the aesthetic and acknowledging the dual nature of political power in Haiti. Integrating into his own attempt at a Haitian Universal State the Secret Societies continue their traditional role governing the rural areas of Haiti, the Political Society proper administers the cities and handles foreign relations. The Web of Power and Haitian Sociality becomes in the process (or at least gives the impression of being) a Unified Whole. Beyond subject and object, or individual and collective.
To some degree is this not precisely the current situation we find ourselves in today? Incels, Clandestine Group Chats, Cancel Culture, and Hashtagtivism.
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“This is why we had to further specify Kristeva's diagnosis: every 'unilateral call to return to what [the Judeo-Christian compound] has repressed (rhythm, drive, the feminine, etc.)' generates fascism (as in Céline's work) not because it regresses from the Symbolic but because it obfuscates abjection itself, the 'primordial repression' which gives rise to the Symbolic. The dream of such attempts is not to suspend the Symbolic, but to have the (symbolic) cake and eat it, i.e. to dwell in the Symbolic without the price we have to pay for it ('primordial repression', subject's ontological derailment, antagonism, out-of-joint, the violent gap of differentiation from natural substance) - the ancient dream of a masculine universe of meaning which remains harmonically rooted in the maternal substance of hora. In short, what fascism obfuscates (forecloses even) is not the Symbolic as such but the gap that separates the Symbolic from the Real. This is why a figure like that of the Jew is needed: if the gap between the Symbolic and the Real is not constitutive of the Symbolic, if a Symbolic 'at home' in the Real is possible, then their antagonism has to be caused by a contingent external intruder - and what better candidate for this role than Judaism, its violent monotheist assertion of the symbolic Law and rejection of the earth-bound paganism? The Jew as the enemy allows the anti-Semitic subject to avoid the choice between working class and capital: by blaming the Jew whose plotting foments class warfare, he can advocate the vision of a harmonious society in which work and capital collaborate. This is also why Kristeva is right in linking the phobic object (the Jew whose plots anti-Semites fear) to the avoidance of a choice: 'The phobic object is precisely avoidance of choice, it tries as long as possible to maintain the subject far from a decision'“
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Will note the following about The Hounds of Actaeon, love the work M. Loza put into it and I find him all in all a very compelling writer and researcher. The book has been a treasure. What he manages to produce with this book is incredible. His approach to Couliano’s work and how he integrates in with Agamben’s research and the very particular kind of “Esoteric” Marxism through Reich and Debord, is wonderful, but it comes across a little dated if read prescriptively. There is a very late 20th century Western-Academic Communist vibe to the work and some of its conclusions, very much in resonance with writers like Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi along with Antonio Negri. Find it lacking. Immediate impression is that he appears to rely too much on the Early Freud via Reich-Marcuse-Marx prism. My knee-jerk response to then assume that we can have a kind of Generalized-Erotic Open Society, Fully Automated Luxury Gay Space Communism, without some compensatory dialect. “True Socialism means good sex and the abolition of the commodity form”. These energies are necessarily related to the repression of sexual energies. Bad sex. And repressive social mores. The form of the repression is contingent on the particular culture, and ultimately, mode of production. Perhaps puts too much emphasis on sex proper. Ala Zizek’s read of the contemporary misunderstanding of Freudian Psychoanalytic Theory, “that all has to do with sex.” Still…
“As in the case of the hysterical patients of the Salpetriere, an unhealthy environment, lacking opportunities for the development of sexuality, together with the fear, guilt and misogyny that characterizes our tradition, becomes fertile ground for the emergence of all types of individual and collective psychosomatic disorders.”
That when some catastrophic event occurs leads to a State of Perpetual Carnival. Joy and Violence. Taking shape through the particularities of a given culture; again we might look at different customs relating to carnival or to the manifestation of spirit possession, take the Guede Family (Division or Nation) of Entities in Hispaniolan Vodou, who also manifest through lewd gestures and profanity but ultimately serve a healing and oracular function. The Forgotten Dead manifest as spiritual jesters who get away with calling a dictator’s dick small. In contexts obviously
The philosopher Georges Bataille envisions a Modern Proletariat whose revolutionary zeal is informed not by a vision of a Workers' Paradise, but by the Proletariat's position as the privileged vehicle of what Bataille calls heterogeneous matter. For Bataille, the Revolutionary Materialism of the Proletariat is a Base Materialism. Being infused with a great vitality that the Capitalist Bourgeoisie (in its ossifying commitments to the utilitarian calculations needed to sustain a Profit-Oriented Economy) is bereft of. As Bataille puts it in The Use Value of D.A.F. de Sade, "In the final analysis, it is clear that a worker works in order to obtain the violent pleasures of coitus (in other words, he accumulates in order to spend)" the sacrality of this expenditure is exemplified by the orgasm and ejaculation committed for its own ends, not as a means to produce life, not for the sake of production or utility. Bataille's focus was consumption and expenditure, orgiastic and nonproductive. In The Psychological Structure of Fascism, Bataille provides the following description:
"2. Beyond the properly sacred things that constitute the common realm of religion or magic, the heterogenous world includes everything resulting from unproductive expenditure (sacred things themselves form part of this whole). This consists of everything rejected by homogeneous society as waste or as superior transcendent value. Included are the waste products of the human body and certain analogous matter (trash, vermin, etc.); the parts of the body; persons, words, or acts having a suggestive erotic value; the various unconscious processes such as dreams or neuroses; the numerous elements or social forms that homogeneous society is powerless to assimilate: mobs, the warrior, aristocratic and impoverish classes, different types of violent individuals or at least those who refuse the rule (madmen, leaders, poets, etc.);"
Bataille's Proletariat is the Worker as an Abject and Elemental force in the eyes of the sterilized Bourgeoisie. In its character and expression, mirroring the anxieties and prejudices expressed by many a Conservative thinker. As the Medieval Bourgeoisie, the Revolutionary Subject of the Feudal Age, had been characterized by the extreme debauchery of the Sadean Libertine. The revolutionary terror and criminality vibrant and vicious unleashed in France as described by the champions and poets of the ancien regime, the Proletariat for Bataille inherits this tenebrous force. Reminiscent of James G. Frazer's ominous description of the (possible) return of magic, "We seem to move on a thin crust which may at any moment be rent by the subterranean forces slumbering below. From time to time a hollow murmur underground or sudden spirt of flame into the air tells of what is going on beneath our feet. Now and then the polite world is startled by a paragraph in a newspaper which tells how in Scotland an image has been found stuck full of pins for the purpose of killing an obnoxious laird or minister, how a woman has been slowly roasted to death as a witch in Ireland...."
And Karl Marx's discovery that the rightful heirs of German Idealism are the Proletariat.
I find myself drawn to the act of consecration, of remembrance. Who I'm met by in this exercise of inceptual thinking is Hermes, itinerant, moving through those sacred spaces of the Pagan, the Christian, and the Jew. The Father of all sciences and arts. The Universal Mercury embodying the Law of the Unity of Opposites. Let us recall what Lenin said; dialectics can be summed up as the doctrine of the unity of opposites.
What comes to mind are the myriad weird little technical books, written by artisans, sorcerers, and alchemists, out of which modern science emerged. The meeting of theory and praxis, and the conditions for poiesis generated. Medium and Message. A Republic of Letters blooming out of the printer's workshop. Allowing the author, prophet and pornographer, to come into existence. I look at Hermeticism, as a kind of transcendental excess generated from the transmissions, production, and reproductions that led to the develop of a myriad of cultural, philosophical and scientific ideas, techniques, operations.
From The Myth of Disenchantment: Magic, Modernity, and the Birth of the Human Sciences by Jason A. Josephson-Storm
"Remarkably, if one takes a closer look at the Gallup 2005 polling data, it shows something even more interesting: belief in different forms of the "paranormal" (They include in the paranormal: ESP, haunted houses, ghosts, telepathy, clairvoyance, astrology, communication with the dead, witches, reincarnation, and channeling. Moore, "Three in Four Americans Believe in the Paranormal"; Lyons, "Paranormal Beliefs Come (Super)Naturally to Some.") are not confined to a single subculture. For example, believers in telepathy and witchcraft are likely only semi-overlapping sets because, as the survey indicated, 73 percent of those responding believe in at least one of the poll's ten paranormal categories (see figure 2). Although it might sound shocking, this percentage is nearly identical to earlier iterations of the Gallup poll from 2001 and 1990. The implications of these statistics are worth underscoring because, this this data is accurate, it means that only approximately a quarter of Americans are not believers in the paranormal. We live in a land of wonders in which most people are believers and skeptics are the clear minority.
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Nor has it vanished with compulsory mass education. While there is a connection between education and specific paranormal beliefs, there is little correlation between level of education, and having paranormal beliefs as such. For instance, Bader, Mencken, and Baker conclude that college graduates are less likely to believe in UFOs but more likely to believe in psychics. Other surveys targeting the issue specifically have also suggested that "higher education fuels [a] stronger belief in ghosts." At the very least, college seniors are more likely to be open to the possibility of ghosts and psychical powers than their less educated peers. A related point worth underscoring is that sociological evidence suggests that self-identified magicians and witches are generally better educated than average and more likely to hold a college degree. Hence, it would be a mistake to assume that education necessarily leads toward disenchantment."
An observation that comes to mind when reading this. A parallel that I'm led to draw between my two fields of interest, Esoterica and Class Struggle. We find the broad popular affirmation of the existence of paranormal or anomalous phenomena roughly divided along various demographic lines but revealing a general perception by a majority of the U.S. populous, that anomalous phenomena exists. We find that a smaller subset of the population that is "better educated than average" and more likely to hold a degree in higher education, who willingly self-identify as Magicians or Witches. In effect conceiving of themselves as people capable of better understanding, interacting with, and even manipulating these anomalous phenomena. They immerse themselves in the terminologies and practices of various schools of esotericism.
From Parisian Messianism: Catholicism, Decadence, and the Transgressions of Georges Bataille by Michael Weingrad
"Surya has already emphasized the significance of Bataille’s early passion for de Gourmont’s study of medieval Latin poetry, Le Latin mystique, a consummate example of the Decadent writers’ interest in Catholic spirituality. Toward the end of World War I, Bataille read the book avidly. De Gourmont was the great promoter of French symbolism, and his influence on intellectual life was unquestionable in the first quarter of the twentieth century. (Like Bataille, de Gourmont worked as a librarian at the Bibliothèque Nationale.) In Le Latin mystique, he assembles numerous examples, with extensive commentary, of “decadent” Latin poetry, written by medieval Christian authors whose “object ... is to make the impious renounce the flesh.” Catholic literature, explains de Gourmont, holds “life to be intolerable and sordid, and the better to elicit our disgust in this regard, it goes to great lengths to reduce to ordure the pleasure for which humanity ... toils unto despair.” The writing de Gourmont analyzes is truly florid, from the tenth-century abbot Saint Odo of Cluny’s characterization of man as a “mere sack of excrement” to the Church Father and poet Prudentius’s fixation on vice and putrefaction. As de Gourmont remarks of the representation of the martyrs in one work, “the breasts of the virgins are swollen with milk; they are also swollen with blood. The blood is no less necessary: it is baptismal and symbolic.” The simultaneous disgust and fascination with the flesh is further darkened by the apocalyptic content of much of the poetry. Certainly, this lingering at the nexus of sex and death, this linking of carnality and sacred horror that marks de Gourmont’s study, is a signal trait of Bataille’s writings. Moreover, we recognize the conviction, indispensable to de Gourmont’s Catholic aesthetics, that physicality has an ontological value, a belief that underlies Bataille’s entire experience of transgression. Blood, explains de Gourmont, is baptismal here. Torture becomes metaphysics."
...
"Jeanne d’Arc “roused an impetuous soul, ready for anything, as well for orgies of saintliness as for ecstasies of crime.” Such a depiction anticipates a great deal of what Bataille would write about the dual nature of the sacred, a violent and scandalous heterogeneity that embraces the holy as well as the demonic and criminal. Indeed, Bataille undertook his own study of Gilles de Rais, published as a lengthy introduction to the transcripts of Gilles’s trial, translated from the Latin by Klossowski and annotated by Bataille. (The volume appeared in 1965, after Bataille’s death.) Though he disagrees vehemently with Huysmans’s estimation of the Marshal’s intellectual refinements—Bataille characterizes Gilles as a simple-minded brute—he admits that Huysmans’s depiction results from a valid notion, that “[t]here is in the evidence of monstrosity a sovereign grandeur.”'
​
From Gunpowder: Alchemy, Bombards, and Pyrotechnics: The History of the Explosive that Changed the World by Jack Kelly
“Medieval Europe was much more rank than our sterilized twenty-first century. Peasants - the vast majority of the population - shared dirt-floor hovels with farm animals. Food scraps and dog shit were ground into the reeds that served as carpeting. Night soil and manure were the only fertilizers, open sewers the norm in towns. It was from this stinking fundament of the human environment that gunpowders makers derived their most previous ingredient.
Observers saw sal petrae, "salt of stones," forming in white crusts on stone walls. An early monk described it as a "wonder salt" with an infernal spirit concealed in icelike crystals. A writer in 1556 said that saltpeter could be "made from a dry, slightly fatty earth, which, if it be retained for a while in the mouth, has an acrid and salty taste." Saltpeter had long been used as a preservative to help meat retain its redness. Physicians prescribed it for ailments like asthma and arthritis. In fact, it can be toxic in large quantities, causing anemia, headache, and kidney damage. It was at times touted as an aphrodisiac, though persistent rumors have also insisted that the overseers of army barracks and boys' schools snuck it into the food to quell the carnal appetites of their charges.
The salt formed on the walls and floors of privies and stables, and in "Vaults, Tombs, or desolate caves, where rain can not come in." But the natural supply was meager. Every Kingdom was hard pressed to produce enough of the crucial substance. Powdermen scoured the land looking for old manure piles and cesspools, middens, and pissoirs. Collectors armed with royal warrants scraped saltpeter from barnyards and dovecotes. Their intrusions annoyed residents who, having seen their yards dug up and structures demolished, were required to provide lodging for the petermen and fuel for boiling down the smelly liquid leached from the ordure.
In 1670 a gentleman named Henry Stubbes mentioned a cave in the Apennine "in which Millions of Owles did lodge themselves, their dung had been accumulating there for many centuries of years." Mining the guano for its saltpeter produced an "inestimable summe of money." Around the same time, the bodies of soldiers hastily buried in caves after a battle near Moscow proved a rich source of saltpeter, which was fashioned into a new powder to facilitate the deaths of other men, a macabre kind of recycling.
....
The process was not difficult - anyone with a covered pit or cellar and a supply of manure could get into the business. A saltpeter recipe from 1561 suggests mixing human feces, urine, "namely of those persons whiche drink either wyne or strong bear," dung "of horses which be fed on ooates," and lime obtained from old mortar and plaster. The knee-deep pile was to be kept sheltered from rain and turned regularly for a year. Saltpeter would then emerge "like snow." The prescription for the piss of boozers was not fanciful - the metabolization of alcohol produces urine rich ammonium, a food that nitrate microbes thrive on.”
Philosophy of Care by Boris Groys, The Infectious Sacred
“The same cultures strictly regulate the relationship between the sexes, as well as between masters and servants. Caillois stresses the fact that, in traditional cultures, relationships of power are generally accepted as self-evident: 'Whatever the kind of power - civil, military, or religious it is only a consequence of consent.' Of course, these relationships change, not as a result of a better insight, critical analysis or rational social reform, but rather as a slow but inescapable loss of energy that lets the old order collapse. This collapse weakens mechanisms of protection and leads to the massive infusion of sacred energies into society. The influx of sacral energies takes a form of total infection and intoxication that plunges society into chaos. Work stops, ecstasy begins. Chaos reigns. Society comes back to point zero, to its initial starting point. As a result, society becomes reinvigorated through 'creative vigor' and the 'fountain of youth': 'the re-enactment of the creative period' starts.' The ritual of creation that has been handed down, and which alone is capable of leading to success, is repeated. Actors imitate the heroic deeds and gestures. They wear masks that identify them with this ancestors'.
Re-visioning Psychology by James Hillman. Excerpts from Chapter 2 part II
“Here we must keep from seizing up in panic and coagulating the frightening peculiarities with a literal interpretation of them, giving them a diagnosis that demands treatment. "Pathologizing the myth onward" means staying in the mess while at the same time regarding what is going on from a mythical perspective. We try to follow the soul wherever it leads, trying to learn what the imagination is doing in its madness. By staying with the mess, the morbid, the fantastic, we do not abandon method itself, only its medical model. Instead we adopt the method of the imagination.”
Re-visioning Psychology by James Hillman. Excerpts from Chapter 2 part III
“The materials, vessels, and operations of the alchemical laboratory are personified metaphors of psychological complexes, attitudes, and processes. Every one of the alchemist's operations upon things like salt, sulphur, and lead were also upon his own bitterness, his sulphuric combustion, his depressive slowness. The fire he tended and regulated with careful exactitude was the intensity of his own spirit, his failing or burning interest. By means of concretely physical fantasies, the alchemical psychologists worked at the same time on both the soul in his materials and the soul in himself. In the depths of the soul there was also psychopathology, and in fact the substances and processes themselves were conceived in pathologized language, so that in alchemy we find pathologizing as an integral, necessary aspect of soul-making.
So much is this the case that when we enter the thought of alchemy these events lose their stigma of sickness and become metaphors for necessary phases of the soul-making process. So we find: processes of dismemberment, torture, cannibalism, decapitation, flaying, poisoning; images of monsters, dragons, unipeds, skeletons, hermaphrodites; operations called putrefaction, mortification, pulverizing, dissolution. The woodcuts and drawings of the alchemists display the processes with every sort of bizarre and obscene configuration.
Fundamental to these strenuously pathologized images and activities was one basic idea: the soul is lost in its literal perspective, its identity with material life. It is stuck in coagulations of physical realities. This perspective of reality needs to break down and fall apart, to be skinned alive and sensitized, or blackened by melancholic frustration. Habits and attitudes that obscure psychic insight and have lost psychic significance need to be dissolved, or made to stink, becoming monstrous and repulsive, or grindingly rubbed away.”
…
“Both alchemy and the art of memory work within minimal space. The alchemical process is imagined to happen within a closed vessel. Guilio Camillo puts the entire imaginal universe into a small wooden room, his Renaissance memory theater. Albertus Magnus suggests that the distance one travels between images be no more than thirty feet. According to him the most effective interior space for vivifying the imagination is in places "solemn and rare." These are the most "moving."
We learn that one need not soar and plunge on grand shamanistic journeys in order to affect the soul to its depths. These would be trips of the spirit which distend the soul, filling it with air or gas, inflation. The soul is not moved by our moving through it; this is but another heroic voyage of the ego now translated into interior space. Instead, the pathologized image held solemnly is what moves the soul. One dwells upon the affliction or dwells with it, in bed with the leper, in its embrace. And as in alchemy or in memorizing, one goes over and over the same ground again. This iteratio, as it was called, is the itinerary fantasy ever returning to the same complex, moving it now this way, now that. A virtue of pathologizing is that it does not let us escape the closed space required for soul-making, the heat and oppression and intensity - all of which are the antidote for spiritual inflations.”
…
​

Disclaimer: Scroll down for a TL;DR version.
Historically, transgender people have been a taboo subject. They were so unknown that many authors didn't even know about their existence. Even today, it is rare that you will find an author consciously deciding to insert a transgender character into a work of fiction for fear of sparking a controversy. As a result, it is very difficult to find a random transgender character in a library or any collection of movies or videogames.
But that doesn't mean there aren't any. You just need to know where to look. Join me, as I introduce you to the world of transgender characters that have been hiding in plain sight for years and how to not only spot them but prove to the world, once and for all, that those characters are transgender, even if noone involved in the production of those media was ever aware of it, let alone intended it, and the medium wasn't even about gender! This method will uncover more hidden transgender characters than any other! This is:

How to Spot Hidden Transgender Characters in Random Books/Movies/Videogames: The Ultimate Guide

written by k819799amvrhtcom
special thanks go to TV Tropes and the online transgender community

Chapter 1: Definition of Transgender

The official definition of "transgender" denotes people who do not fully identify as the gender they were assigned at birth exclusively all the time. This definition is useful for intersex people who are often assigned a binary gender and raised as such. However, the definition is not really useful when talking about fictional characters because it requires that an assignment of gender at birth happened at all, which, while very probable, is impossible to prove. Also, Bridget would be a cis girl under that definition.
Luckily, there is a different definition that yields more numerous results while still being acceptable for transphobes. In fact, I would go so far as to say that transphobes are more likely to accept the following definition than trans people, and isn't pissing off transphobes the only reason why any of this even matters?
So, anyway, according to my definition of transness, any character is transgender who does not fit into either of the following groups:

• a biological male with a masculine or unisex name who is canonically male and uses he/him pronouns
  
• a biological female with a feminine or unisex name who is canonically female and uses she/her pronouns
  

You'll notice that all non-binary people, all intersex people, and even people who are just pronoun non-conforming all fall under this definition. You might debate whether they are technically transgender or not, but, since the purpose of all this is to piss off transphobes, I hereby declare all of them as "close enough".
Please keep in mind that characters whose genders are unspecified, like Frisk from Undertale or Captain Viridian from VVVVVV are simply classified as having their transgender status be unknown. That is deliberate, as we want all our examples to make the transphobes unable to give any counterarguments!

Chapter 2: Choice of Language

If you happen to speak multiple languages, I would recommend consuming the media in as many languages as you can find official translations for. If you have to choose, I recommend a language which is as gendered as possible: In the English language, the 3rd person singular is gendered while the others are not. In Japanese, the 1st person singular is gendered while the others are not. In French, the 3rd person singular and plural are gendered. Some languages gender the 2nd and 3rd person. Another aspect is gendered nouns. In English, the word "actor" and the word "actress" are the male and female equivalent of the same word. In some languages, almost all words are like this. You're looking for a language where the language itself indicates the gender of as many people as possible, even when their gender isn't being talked about. This will slightly increase your chances of finding hidden transgender characters.

Chapter 3: Choice of Media

Are you in a library, right now? Then look for children's stories with pictures. Are you in a movie store or a videogame store? Look for media intended for children.
We're specifically looking for anthropomorphic animals here. Talking animals are already enough, even if they cannot be understood by humans, but I would recommend stories where they at least wear clothes. The more anthropomorphic animals there are in the medium, the better. Anthropomorphic plants and mushrooms are also allowed if you can find any. Avoid titles that look like they might be educational. But they shouldn't be too fantasy-like either. Aliens are allowed, but they must still resemble animals. Mythological figures are an edge case.
Let's look at pokémons as an example: Pokémons are not animals, but rather a whole cluster of fictional species with their own rules of biology that have been extensively defined with complex breeding rules and everything and are therefore separate from the animals they were based on. As a result, this guide will not be helpful for pokémons or anything similar. Instead, you would have to study pokémon biology separately to find examples of transgender characters there. For example, Beauty Nova from Pokémon X and Y is trans-female#Trivia), Akari from How I Became a Pokémon Card is trans-male), Blanche from Pokémon GO is non-binary, Serena's Eevee is trans-female, the Garchomp in the PokéPark Wii games is trans-male, female Azurills have a one in three chance of evolving into a male Marill in games prior to Generation VI#Trivia), the older anime episodes contain trans-binary pokémons such as trans-female Pikachus and trans-female Butterfrees, and all the pokémons on this list are genderless. Some games refer to this as the gender simply being unknown though. If you can't convince a transphobe because of this, there's still Ditto, who can breed with both male and female pokémons.
Fan works are even more prone to this: I dare you to watch the Pokémon Snap segments of super NiN10Doh! and comparing the pokémons there to the pokémons in this list of sexual dimorphism in pokémons!

Chapter 4: Self-Education

So, why does this guide focus on sapient animals so much? Well, Jim Davis, the creator of Garfield, put it best:

I’ve always said that I wanted to work with animals because they're not perceived as being any particular gender, race, age or ethnicity. In that sense, the humor could be enjoyed by a broader demographic.

You see, humans have sexual dimorphism, everybody knows that:

• Only females can get boobs, unless you have manboobs.
  
• Only males can get facial hair, unless you have hirsutism.
  
• Only females can lactate, unless you have galactorrhea.
  
• Only males can get male-pattern baldness, unless you have a tonsure.
  
• Only females can get pregnant, unless you are intersex.
  

Animals have sexual dimorphism, as well, but not everybody knows that. Or maybe they do but they forget about it while designing animal characters, and then you get a character that is biologically one gender but identifies as another and we get to claim them as canonically trans! Many trans icons have been claimed this way, based on nothing more than this mismatch between the presented gender and the sexual dimorphism!
The most obvious example would probably be Yoshi, the dinosaur from the Super Mario series. He is a transmasc icon because he explicitly goes by he/him pronouns despite laying eggs all the time. Even Viridi, the goddess of nature, couldn't explain how a male dinosaur can lay eggs because "there's nothing natural about this", which pretty much confirms the influence of a medical intervention.
Meanwhile, Birdo is a transfem icon, even though she shoots eggs out of her mouth. I researched animals who lay eggs through their mouths but all I could find was animals who consume their own eggs to spit them out again later so I guess that doesn't really mean anything.
Another character is Charmy Bee from the Sonic the Hedgehog series, who explicitly identifies as male despite being a bee with a stinger. It's common knowledge that bees have stingers but not so much that only the females have a stinger. Same goes for mosquitoes, which means that the protagonist from Mister Mosquito must necessarily be trans-male, as well!
Same goes for plants: Only female plants produce fruits and seeds, whereas only male plants produce pollen. That means that Whispy Woods, the forest king from the Kirby franchise, must be trans-male!
Sometimes, this is done deliberately:

• In Barnyard, all cows have udders, even the male ones, because the show was designed to make fun of what people from the city think happens on farms and was therefore deliberately filled with inaccuracies like this, another being coyotes only going after chickens. Does this mean that all male cows in Barnyard are transgender? Yes. Because if it counts when authors screw it up out of stupidity then it also counts if authors screw it up ironically to make fun of stupidity! q.e.d. ⚧=🏳️‍⚧️
  
• Rae the Doe is a female deer with antlers. The design was deliberate because Rae is canonically a trans woman.
  
• Minecraft is a game where neither gender nor sex exist. Every pair of animals can breed with each other. Because of this, all animals have the sexual dimorphism of both sexes: All cows have horns and udders, all chickens look like roosters, and so on and so forth. Steve even uses they/them pronouns. Notch even specified that everyone in Minecraft is homosexual because there's only one gender! So everyone and everything in Minecraft is canonically intersex, non-binary, homosexual, and uses they/them pronouns, which fits my definition of "transgender". The only exception is the Enderdragon. She is female and her name is Jean.
  
• The Far Side contains a comic with a male mosquito coming home from work and talking about how much blood he had to suck that day. Gary Larson did this because the joke wouldn't have worked otherwise. If you assume that the mosquito is trans-male, it would actually make the story a lot more interesting, because it would mean that the story takes place in a society where women are allowed to work and the mosquito happens to have a job that can only be performed by biologically female mosquitoes while still attending in male dress code. The human equivalent for this would be a trans-male egg donor married to a cis woman. Another comic has male kangaroos with pouches for the same reason.
  

Chapter 5: What to Look for

First of all, humans are a dioecious species, meaning that they have 2 biological sexes if you ignore intersex people. That means that any fictional character based on a species that is not dioecious is an instant win due to being automatically intersex if you define "intersex" as "neither fully biologically male nor fully biologically female". For example, mushrooms have around 36000 sexes, meaning that the toads from the Super Mario series all used to be canonically intersex before they were confirmed to be not mushrooms at all. But hey, they were also confirmed to all be genderless so they still count. On the other end are snails with only 1 sex, meaning that everyone in the movie Turbo is intersex! Earthworms have only 1 sex, as well, making Earthworm Jim intersex. Same goes for the maize plant so if you ever see an anthropomorphic maize plant or popcorn, you know what to do. Unicellular eukaryotic organisms aren't dioecious either, meaning that the Amoeba Boys from Powerpuff Girls are all intersex, as well!
Futurama makes it very clear that robots have robot sexes, with manbots running on testosteroil and fembots running on lubricants. As for every other franchise featuring robots, well, robots have no sexes so all robot characters count, as well! And so do all other anthropomorphic characters based on lifeless objects, which means that pretty much everyone in Robots, Transformers, Cars, and Battle for Dream Island should be intersex. Also, numbers have no sexes, letters have no sexes, and colours have no sexes, meaning that pretty much everyone in Numberblocks, Alphablocks, and Colourblocks should be intersex, as well!
I like to imagine that characters like this choose their own genders, instead of being assigned one at birth.
Before we come to the non-human dioecious species, please keep in mind that some infos about sexual dimorphism are useless for this purpose. For example, in many species, the female is larger than the male, but size is relative so it wouldn't give any absolute indication. Tusks are rare in female narwhals but they still happen and we can only make use of information about things that never happen. Furthermore, all hyenas have penisses, even the female ones. While this is interesting to know, it's completely useless for this guide, even in furry porn. Moreover, cases of behaviors or roles akin to the opposite sex, such as male king ants, aren't enough for trans icons, as this is only behavior. You can use those examples for tomboy and femboy icons, though!
Alright, now to the list of sexual dimorphism in animals! Any exception to the following rules is an instant win:

• If it lays eggs, it's female, meaning that all characters on this list are trans-male. Fun Fact: In A. E. van Vogt's The Voyage of the Space Beagle, a spaceship crew refers to all aliens as "he", even after one starts laying eggs in people. Unfortunately, this isn't enough to qualify for this guide, as a transphobe could just say "the crew misgendered her"!
  
• Male mice and rats don't have nipples.
  
• Only male lions can sprout manes. That means that Hazel from Elinor Wonders Why is trans-female. Or she has hirsutism, but this looks like an intersex condition to me so it still counts!
  
• All cows are female. All bulls and oxes and steers are male.
  
• If it has an udder, it's female.
  
• Roosters are male and chickens are female. That means that Coop from Yin Yang Yo! is trans-male.
  
• Male seahorses can get pregnant and female seahorses cannot. So if a seamare is pregnant or implies ever having been pregnant in any way, she's trans-female!
  
• Only male deers (except for reindeers) and moose can grow antlers. That means that Instructor Mooselini from PaRappa the Rapper is trans-female. FUN FACT: The creator said that he was fine with people considering her to be transgender if they wished.
  
• Both male and female reindeers normally grow antlers. However, the females shed theirs after Christmas, whereas the males shed theirs before Christmas, unless they'd been neutered. So, in any depiction of Santa's reindeers on Christmas, all reindeer without antlers are male and all reindeer with antlers are either female or neutered, meaning that if Rudolph is depicted with antlers, he is either trans-male or a biologically male reindeer who underwent bottom surgery, and what do we call those?
  
• Male bees, wasps, and ants don't have stingers. That means that all the male bees in Bee Movie are trans-male.
  
• Male mosquitoes only feed on plants. It's the female mosquitoes that feed on blood. They need the protein for their eggs. This does not apply to stable flies tho because those are relatives of house flies.
  
• Only female plants produce fruits and seeds, whereas only male plants produce pollen.
  
• All peacocks are male and are vividly colored and have trains. All peahens are female and do not. That means that Julia from Animal Crossing is trans-female.
  
• Only male mallard ducks have the iconic green heads and brown and white bodies, females are brown and speckled with some colorful strips.
  
• All male cardinals are red. All female cardinals are not.
  
• Only male ostriches can be black-and-white. All female ostriches are dull brown. Male ostrich chicks are brown though.
  
• Only male snowy owls can be all white without dark spots. That means that Hedwig, the owl of Harry Potter, is trans-female.
  
• Calico cats and tortoiseshell cats are female. That means that Nago from the Kirby series is trans-male. Or he has an extremely rare genetic disorder which would have made him infertile. This seems like an intersex condition to me so he still counts!
  
• All female kangaroos have pouches. All male kangaroos do not. That means that Joey from The Penguins of Madagascar is trans-male and Sheila from Spyro: Year of the Dragon is trans-female. The same goes for wallabies, meaning that Walt Wallaby from the Sonic the Hedgehog series is trans-male, as well!
  
• All rams are male.
  
• All adult male orangutans have cheek pads and no flanges. All female orangutans have no large cheek pads and no throat sac.
  
• All male betta fish are colorful and have long fins. All female betta fish do not have long fins.
  
• Only male pteranodons can have long crests.
  
• Female pigeons are not as colorful as their male counterparts.
  
• If a Jackson's chameleon has no horns, it's female.
  
• Only female anglerfish have the look we associate with anglerfish — the males lack the lure. They live on scraps from the females' kills.
  
• Only male toads have an inflatable vocal sac.
  
• Female gorillas lack sagittal crests.
  
• Only male ducks can have green feathers. Only male ducks can have curved tail feathers, meaning that Daisy Duck is trans-female.
  
• Female violet sabrewings are mostly green.
  
• Only sexually mature female baboons have bulbous red butts.
  
• Drakes have yellow or light yellow bills whereas female ducks have yellow orange or orange bills with or without dark mottling. That means that Daffy Duck is trans-male. Also, he laid a golden egg once. By the way, Plucky Duck from Tiny Toon Adventures is trans-male, as well!
  
• Male lemurs have extra claws on their wrists. That means that King Julien from Madagascar is trans-male.
  
• Only female platypi sweat milk. That means that Perry the Platypus from Phineas and Ferb is trans-male.
  
• Glow-worms are wingless female fireflies—males are winged beetles.
  
• Only male cochineal can have wings. That means that Carmen from Best Fiends is trans-female.
  

Alright, those were all dioecious species. Still here? Then let's move on to sequential hermaphroditism now. Some species have 2 sexes but are capable of changing between them. This can also be used to find some hidden transgender characters. For example, Marlin from Finding Nemo is trans-male because he defied society's expectations of him by refusing to become female after his wife Cora died.
When it comes to mythological beings, the same effect can be put into use by researching about them and finding out which of them happen to have certain genders. For example, every succubus is female because the male counterpart is called incubus. Every exception to that is trans! The same can be said about wizards and witches, but only in the Harry Potter fandom! Everywhere else, wizards and witches are simply two different professions and have nothing to do with gender at all! Furthermore, the chimera is female, meaning that all chimera depictions with a maned lion head would have to be either trans-female or intersex. I also heard that many religions consider God to be agender, including Christianity, Islam, Sikhism, and Hinduism. The Jewish god is non-binary, as well. The gender of Cthullu from Scientology is outside human comprehension. And the Flying Spaghetti Monster is canonically "neither Male, nor Female, but instead beyond the reaches of the gender confusion of Man and Woman Kind". Depictions of Satan with male and female genitalia have been circulating since ancient times. Which makes perfect sense, considering Satan is literally a fallen angel and angels are all agender, as well!
If you can't memorize which species are sexually dimorphic or non-dioecious in which ways, just look them up!

TL;DR

To recap, here's a summary of how to uncover lots of hidden transgender characters:
Step 1: Learn all about sexual dimorphism in non-human species, especially animals!
Step 2: Focus on fantasy media for children with lots of anthropomorphic animals!
Step 3: Whenever an anthropomorphic animal's sexual dimorphism differs from how they are gendered, 🏳️‍⚧️!
Now, go forth and increase the number of known trans icons! I want 200 new previously unknown trans icons by Monday! And...GO!
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/uj Do you know more examples of sexual dimorphism that could be used to spot transgender animals?
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/rj Join us next week when we will explain why all characters on this list are transgender!

like classical painting, old style, Greek statue type stuff with trans depictions. be they old or modern renditions, I wanna see some classic style art of trans folks. male, female, or nonbinary. I want to try to inspire not only myself to be more artsy but I think seeing stuff we've seen forever remained in me and my girflreinds image might be nice. My trans gf is quite insecure and unhappy with her progress but I want to show her how I see her, and I see her as a Greek goddess carved in marble, I see her as a painting in a museum only meant for eyes, I see her as something as old and mysterious as time itself and as beautiful as only art can depict.
life anyone has anything like that I can see or share with her I would absolutely love to see it, please.
I went to Paris and in a museum they had a marble statue of a """hermaphrodite""", an old mythological story carved in stone, and it's beauty was marvelous, the name was unfortunate, but I had to take a picture for keep sakes. and since then I've been searching for such a rush.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that my mother is a pathological narcissist.
I'm disabled and rely on her for financial support.
CONTENT - this post includes some discussion of abuse and sexual assault.
She presents a surface of cuteness, sweetness, charm, and supreme competence. She's always throwing parties, giving concerts, and taking vacations to Spain, Bhutan, Indonesia. Cooking, swimming, doing yoga. Her house is full of sunny imagery of mermaids and flowers. She shapes the world around her so that she's the main character, and makes everyone else's lives about her. In fact she's pathologically indifferent to other people's feelings and needs.
My mother keeps the walls of her delusion quite firm. If I cross them, as I often do in order to preserve my sense of self, she rapidly switches from flat-footed sweetness to cold hostility. She rejects out of hand any indication that her little rich hippie town isn't an idyll or that her preferred political party isn't up to the task of fighting nascent authoritarianism & protecting LGBT people like me. She donates freely to big charities but when I have a good friend who can't afford to eat 3 meals a day, her fist is tight. Her dead brother was a neglectful father and an emotionally abusive husband who dumped all the parenting and housework on my aunt while he went out skiing, flying planes & climbing mountains. I would know - my aunt & uncle raised me for 3 years. She has *cut off communication with my aunt*, who raised her child for 3 years, rather than face this fact. Her old workplace had a boss who worked people to the bone, and she sucked up to the boss while others quit in exhaustion; now that both are retired, they're good friends.
My life is very different from hers - I'm poor, disabled, LGBT, an activist, live in the ghetto, have worked in the sex industry. She's been shoving her nose in my business in *all* these regards from the beginning, and simply cannot understand or normalize them because they fall outside of her Truman Show constricted reality. Yet she *insists* on trying to mold my life to her priorities, does not observe any boundaries, gets angry and will not listen when challenged, and never gives up. - and she's made me dependent on her money. This has an extremely destructive effect on my life, inhibiting the most valuable thing I have - my ability to fight for my own needs and do what I set my mind to.
..
Any event my mother is at becomes about her. Every time she holds a family gathering, she subjects us all to a *full concert* of her singing and playing the piano, 6 or 7 songs, and complains when people wander away to talk with each other or do other things. She continually takes pictures of people without asking - one time she stood up on a chair in the middle of a restaurant to take pictures of me and my cousin, much to our embarrassment. If we go to an art museum, she expects me to spend the whole time rattling off my art-historical knowledge for her benefit, rather than be absorbed in looking at the art. When I was making and showing art, she inserted herself into every show and opening I had and started showboating. Now that I'm focusing on writing, she has to have a copy of everything I publish even though she strongly dislikes the views I promote. She commandeers my projects, continually tries to plan my week for me, has to know everything I'm spending and give me advice no matter how much I say that I don't want it.
My mother has treated me as a problem to solve for as long as I can remember. She speaks openly to my face about my having been a "problem child." She tries to fix me instead of giving me any real credit or any emotional support. If I tell her about a major accomplishment - and I have plenty, from putting severe OCD into remission and beating extreme panic attacks to being a showing artist and published social theorist - she gives it a perfunctory "good job" and then goes right to telling me what I need to do next. I am 36 years old and she takes advantage of the fact that I'm disabled and need family support to treat me like a *child*. She doesn't want to understand the intense challenges I've faced and overcome, and gives me no credit for surmounting those challenges - yet insists on continually asserting control, while acting like she's "being supportive". When I was 16 I stood up to my doctors on my own, with no support, and told them I refused to take the injections they were giving me to "normalize" my hermaphroditic body into a male body, something I had never wanted. When I bring this up she doesn't think of me, my bravery - she only becomes defensive of herself and her actions. She doesn't think of how tough I am, only of the areas I struggle with.
She only sees me as her smart but incompetent problem child; in fact she put the family money I rely on under the legal control of a relative for a while, and set this situation to continue even after her death: my brother would get an inheritance, but my inheritance would be controlled by someone else and doled out to me in little bits, even when I'm old. She insists on characterizing the financial support she gives me as "gifts," rather than as the responsibility of a wealthy parent towards a disabled child whose body moves and twists against her will. The infantilization is merciless.
She constantly implies that I'm immature! But she told me once that I should find a way to suppress my Tourette Syndrome tics, as they're disturbing to other people. I would never say such a thing to anyone - suppressing Tourette's is difficult at the best of times and can be debilitating. Another time she said that my outfit made me look like a hooker, knowing full well that some of my friends work in that industry. These nasty, insulting comments are always coming out from under the sweet exterior.
Because I'm not like my high-paid yuppie brother, I will never be a "solved problem" for her. And she *does* talk about wanting my "problem" to be "solved" - but I dont think she really wants it. If I wasn't her "problem child," she wouldn't have me to offload all her anxieties about her own capacities and about the state of the world on to!
..
As a teenager I was nihilistic, depressed, crumpled, and had no positive sense of self. Years of bullying and ostracism, suppressed gender feelings, struggling by myself with the hermaphroditic/intersex way my body was developing, undiagnosed atypical body movements, undiagnosed OCD and panic had just taken it out of me. I floated along, let anyone take advantage of me, and was predated on by several older boyfriends, one of whom was a pedophile attracted to my young and innocent appearance. I developed a self-sacrificing and self-abandoning attitude, and found various people to sacrifice myself to, including two roommates who were physically abusive to each other and mentally abusive to me.
I sunk deeply into myself, and developed a mild hoarding problem and severe panic attacks, culminating in full-blown panic disorder. This was not only from the life problems and social oppression I'd been dealt, this was from the emotional neglect and lack of real interpersonal support. I was a child! No one truly stepped up and taught me to fight for myself - with the exception of my aunt. No one armed me with the tools I needed to thrive against the grain in a hostile world in which gender-variant people like me were feared, excluded, and neglected, and are now also subject to the latest moral panic. To my mother, actually standing up and fighting back is futile or impossible, and she has *relentlessly* imposed those priorities on me no matter how much I say no. I have had to develop every ounce of strength I have by myself, and with the support of friends - not my family, not even when I was still a child.
My father has been simply absent. He's self-absorbed too, in fact he calls himself a narcissist; but I don't know if the label really applies, and I feel very forgiving towards him, because his problems stem from having been raped by Catholic priests in his teens. The other long-term romantic partner my mom's had also had a hard childhood and is depressed. It's no surprise that a charismatic emotionally indifferent boundary-violating manipulator like her would attract quiet, pained men. What an awful relationship dynamic.
I was there for her when she nearly died from a colon problem. She is not here for me, except with her fake smile and her wallet. Out of everyone in the family, I was the last to face what a narcissist my mother is, because I'm dependent on her and I'm her scapegoat. But I've been coming to consciousness of the problem for a long while. When my sister in law told me at my mother's Hannukkah party that my mother is a clinical narcissist, it clicked. It made perfect sense.
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The time has come. I'm 36; I'm strong, competent, and capable, have good friends, and have worked my ass off for years to solve my problems: learning to care for myself, getting my depression and anxiety diagnosed and finding meds that work, beating back multiple-a-day severe panic attacks and getting my anxiety down to a level where i can manage it without it seriously disrupting my life, getting my OCD into remission, overcoming severe anxious avoidances of basic things like cleaning and paying bills, building up a daily routine and building my support networks, finally getting my gender confirmation surgeries & getting my identity documents squared away, training myself in coding so I can do high-paid work from home that's compatible with my disability needs - and during all of this, writing and making art, publishing and showing.
Year by year, I have become more and more my own person, and I have not become the person my mother wanted. Only a delusional person can see what I've done, the work I've put in, and infantilize me - and my mother is delusional. I will stop trying to make her see reality or see me for who I really am; it will never work. I will stop trying to salve her existential loneliness and focus on overcoming my own. I will stop being guilted into spending long multi-day visits with her, and spend time with my friends and my other family members instead. I will stop reaching out to her for comfort when I know it will make me feel bad. I will stop denying that my visits with her make me depressed, and will instead prepare accordingly. I will practice, very intentionally, with my therapist and in exercises with myself, denying her requests for elaborate long visits and denying her endless demands to discuss personal details of my own damned life, that is *mine* to live and that is more beautiful and more real than her delusional little cage ever could be.
I am going to spend my late thirties and my forties writing, fighting back, being mutual with others, and loving, not being caught up with some narcissist's attempts to hijack my life.
..
But beyond these refusals - what? Others talk here about cutting their narcissists off. For me, it's not so simple. Employment is possible but will be complicated and present its own challenges and pains. Being both trans and very visibly disabled, I'm in two last hired/first fired categories, and I have anxiety disorders to keep under control. Plus, I don't want work to hijack my life to the point where I can't write, do activism, socialize. That could set my spiraling and set me back rather than sending me forward.
Even if I *can* make good money for myself, the inheritance is nothing to sniff at. We have dangerous times ahead and I do not know what life for a marginalized person like me is going to be like. Yes, she is dangling it over my head. But I am not comfortable cutting myself off from it. I know from looking at my friends' lives that my life would have been much worse - destitution & homelessness - without my family money.
So I'm envisioning some kind of soft separation, a very intentional and thought out, gradual and continual pulling away, so that I can become relatively financially independent and get away from her control without her snapping and cutting off my inheritance that will be my safety line in hard times. This will be difficult for me to do, but it seems like the best option. The question is how to pull it off.

I think today was the day, my dad told me he was disappointed in me, over text but it's still the same.
For a quick back story I have been fighting for my life since 2015. After my grandmother died I slipped into a very dark depression, my soon to be ex husband our son and I moved to Tennessee to be with my dad so I could gather myself. I was abused by my ex husband every step of the way, from verbal abuse to sexual, I shielded my son from it all and attempted to keep my family together by sheer force of will (it didn't work). In 2016 my ex and my dad got into it and my dad kicked my husband out, and like a good wife I followed my husband to Alabama, there I managed to survive two more years of heartache as abuse after abuse was thrown on my shoulders. I had no family close by to run to and his family wanted me out of their son's life so he could "get married to someone better" (this was said to my face multiple times). I continued to work and fight to just keep my head up and survive. Then in 2018 I lost my son to CPS because my ex in-laws called and said I was doing drugs, even though I was clean, I had mental health issues and I was go nf to be an unfit parent, so my in-laws took my son ( I'll never be able to see him till he's 18 ), my ex followed soon after by telling me that he had been sleeping with his hermaphrodite best friend. I will admit I lost my mind and ended up in a mental health ward for several months. After I was released I moved myself to Oklahoma where I was for almost five years. Then in February of 22 my ex found me again and attacked me in my house, I made a report to the cops and ran for my life, bouncing from DV shelter to DV shelter till I finally landed in northeastern Illinois.
After all of that, after all of the fighting for my life and doing my best to just not end it all, my dad gets angry at me for $500 missing from MY savings, because I didn't tell him I was taking it out of MY account. I feel like I just lost my grandmother all over again, I feel so lost and alone. I just wanted him to be proud of me and all I get is disappointment, he was the only parent I have contact with, my mom is out of the picture and my grandparents are dead.
I'm sorry if this is too much, I just needed to vent and cry for a moment. I'll pick myself up again tomorrow, today I'm going to cry
Thank you for your time.

First : Previous : Next
"What's happening on the Ring?" Jessica asked in a whisper.
"Ves'Lik and CohVeer'Lik are fully retiring from their positions after this year and there was an uproar at how to even go about replacing them. Usually, there was a ritual combat or something like that. But when that got mentioned in regards to those two, it threw them in a tizzy."
"Why?" Jessica asked as Angela rubbed her cheek with her thumb.
"Because of you guys here. Every damned one of the candidates that were vying to replace Ves'Lik wanted one of you to be their champion. A couple even suggested they'd ask the Lone Hunter himself. Seth. That's part of their laws. Just because you're neutral doesn't mean you're sacrosanct when it comes to something like that."
"Ewwww… that would have been bad."
"Yeah. Vlak'Shad and Ves'Lik went OFF on them for that suggestion for the simple fact that you guys are their ‘saints.’ Basically, we threw their own honorifics back them. Instead, me and Jared got together with Vlak and Priah to propose a few solutions. Thankfully, they ended up with a council comprised of both Moon-Maidens and some of the Elder Civil Council. Essentially, if there was a candidate who wanted a champion, they got put in a lottery that pulled names at random from a pool of eager military De'Nari ready to prove themselves. It was pretty cool and led to a lot of neat tournaments. The guy that will get the job is a former Dreadnaught Commander named Kersh’Landran. His mate ShelaNarantha’Landran is so cool. She’s a former spy, and it came to light that apparently, they met right before the invasion when he saved her life after she stole some big De’Nari plans or something. It was another one of those love stories that have taken the Ring by storm over the years."
"Awww… that's sweet."
Angela opened her eyes to see Jessica smiling sweetly with her eyes closed, letting Angela just hold and talk to her. Angela leaned in and kissed her. Jessica responded with a small moan and was gentle as she returned the kiss. Angela had to admit, Jessica knew how to kiss because it got her heart racing.
Finally, Angela pulled back and wiped Jessica's lips with her thumb. "There. You got your hand in me at dinner and now I've held your hand as well as kissed you like you asked. Ready for sleep?"
Jessica nodded happily and rolled over. Angela scooched back up against her to hold her middle and spoon her again.
After a few moments, Jessica said in a whisper, "I thought you said you were ready for sleep?"
"Nooo… I asked if YOU were ready for sleep. I said nothing about myself."
Jessica moaned a little because Angela's hand had found a happy place and was massaging her gently and probing around some to tease her.
Angela whispered into her ear, "Let's see what sounds you make when I do this. I’m gonna get revenge for what you did to me at the restaurant, you butt."
Those soft sounds were pretty to Angela as Jessica responded to her hand and opened herself up to whatever Angela wanted to do with her. Angela felt Jessica finally move around enough to return the favor and she opened her legs up to receive some loving attention too.
"You're a good friend, Jessica. Can I keep you?"
Jessica giggled a little before her insides quivered and shook a small release out. "Yeah. Please. I need to be kept. I love you, Angela."
"I love you too."
"Can I give you something really special?" Jessica asked hesitantly.
"Sure. What have you got?"
When her hand found what that something special was, she had to see it. Apparently, Jessica was now capable of growing a magnificent tool which caused Angela to say loudly, "What the Bible Black?!"
Jessica was too far gone in the lust zone to answer with anything other than what she did. "I’m a hermaphrodite when I want to be, now just suck it," she ordered before she pushed Angela's head down under the covers to it. Angela couldn't stop herself. It was so wondrous to see and experience this that she readily did so while playing with what was underneath again. She just could not even think about it while she made Jessica's surprise tool explode all in her mouth and Angela gratefully swallowed as much as she could. The taste. Oh, was Angela going to tell Beth all about how it tasted like cotton candy. Monsters were really sweet on the inside apparently.
When Angela came up for air and wiped her mouth, Jessica kissed her again before proceeding to put Angela into a better more fun position which made Angela squeal into the pillow in delight. Angela couldn’t believe her luck when she got taken much more roughly than a few moments before. Jessica's hands were all over her for a few minutes before locking on her hips and driving the point home that Jessica was all about surprises.
Angela looked up at that almost feral lusty redhead’s face as she ground into her and knew that Beth was going to be super damned jealous about this futanari encounter. In fact, she had to say it, "Damn woman! When I tell Beth you can do that stuff, her flippin' hentai fantasy loving self is probably going to come by, kidnap you, and toss you into a hotel room for a month!"
Jessica's hips and member didn't seem to be sated just yet because she turned Angela over roughly to her stomach and repositioned herself to continue her ministrations from on top of Angela’s back at an even faster clip. "Good. Tell her to keep being jealous. I've got you right where I want you and I'm gonna enjoy this. This is what I want you to fantasize about from now on."
"Oh, I wll. Ooohhhh… Yeeeaaaaah. Tomorrow, I’d like to hear how the heck Seth does this shit to people. I mean… wow! Go a little harder there and I can't wait to see Beth's face on Monday. Wow, you're good with that tool. Use them abs of superhero steel Jess! I said harder, girl!"
Jessica indeed went a even harder, and Angela enjoyed the woman's loving enthusiasm in converting their friendship into a new dimension going forward forever. When Jessica finally finished and Angela's insides eased down and stopped telling her soul that she'd found a new heaven to bask in, Angela looked over her shoulder at the satisfied loving smile on Jessica's face and grinned her heart out to her. Jessica seemed damned proud of herself if that smug face was any indication.
"Okay. Benefits with you are well appreciated. You're not up to being boned at supersonic speeds around Avalon like Jared does to me, but damn if you’re not a close second."
Jessica leaned down and kissed her again for that. "I'll take second place gladly. You're welcome. I… uh… I left a lot of stuff in there… if you didn't already notice."
Angela laid back down and said sternly in her most commanding tone, "Oh! I noticed! Now get down there and clean it up before we have to sleep in a wet spot, dirty little girl! Now and thank you!"
Jessica sighed and moved down and did as she was told. Angela quivered again in Jessica's face in appreciation for that woman's enthusiastic cleaning services.
When she was done, Jessica got back into the small spoon position and Angela squeezed her tight to her. "Now, I'm ready for sleep, my little redheaded bed buddy. Goodnight Jessica."
"Heh! I damn well hope you are! I worked hard to get you there."
Angela pulled the comforter over them, kissed Jessica one more time and let her happy body and sated libido lull her to sleep. Jared was probably gonna ask what all she did with Jessica, but Angela wasn't sure how much more than telling him 'well, she was more than a handful, that's for sure,' she was willing to actually say. Mainly because Jessica was indeed more than a handful. At least, that's what her hands were telling her because that's what they were holding when her mind went blank into slumberland.
When Angela finally cracked a bleary eye open the next morning, she saw the small window across from her trying to push some sunshine through the navy-blue drapes. After cracking a yawn, she took stock of herself and found that somehow, she'd gotten into the small spoon position and Jessica was cuddled on her close and had draped herself practically all on top of her. It was hard to giggle quietly. The soft snore behind her head settled to normal breathing and she heard a soft, "Good morning," from Jessica.
Angela took hold of the hand that was casually scritching her tummy and held it. "Good morning bed buddy. Did you sleep good?"
Jessica had a sweet bedroom voice that made Angela jealous. "Mmmm- mmmm… someone really helped me relax last night and made things seem not as bad as I'd been thinking. I hope she lets me repay her for that someday."
"Oh really? Huh. I wonder who that could have been? It sure wasn't the girl who got popped by a surprise futanari boning party got and awesome railing. No sirree, Bob!"
Angela yelped a little when Jessica slapped her rear and held it. "Oh, shut up, you! You and Beth both love that hentai crap and don't you deny it. I swear! Most of the people around me get off on it for some reason!"
Angela laughed a little. "Yeah. Whatever. Come on, lazy bum. I need a shower and coffee and I'm not sure in which order yet."
Jessica pulled up and kissed Angela on the noggin. "Seriously though, thank you for last night. The sex was great, but you listening to me and letting me hear some honest semi-outsider opinions was even better."
Angela turned a little and looked up at her then reached up to hold her face. "Anytime. We'll do this more often; I can promise you that too. Let's get going before you get other ideas, though."
Jessica then pushed Angela off of the bed and onto the floor before running out of the door and cackling loudly down the hallway.
Angela ‘oofed’ onto the floor and got up with a high degree of indignity. "I'm telling Saral on you! I'm gonna have her turn you over her lap and beat your butt and you know you deserve it, woman!" Angela yelled with laughter in her voice before closing the door and yanking on her nightshirt and grabbing her shampoo and body wash. "That girl. Worse than any of the kids. I swear. Little punk is gonna get my foot in her rear if she does that again."
At least she got into the shower without any harassment. However, during the shower, she heard the door open and close. Angela called out. "Hey. I'll be out in a few more minutes. I'm almost done rinsing."
The person didn't answer, and Angela had too much shampoo in her face to be able to look. She soaked her head and stiffened when arms encircled her waist and chest and began mushing stuff around.
"Jessica. I'm in the dang shower. I don’t have time for you right now."
The voice that giggled and the hand that began working between her legs didn't belong to Jessica. "I know. Jessica is taking one too. I was just making sure my wife's best friend was properly cared for this morning so that she's ready to take on the day and continue to make my wife feel great about herself."
Angela couldn’t stop her insides from quivering at the attention. "Sara? Hey. Stop…."
"No. You're special. You're not tainted like we are by the darkness that tries to be the light. You're even better than that. Better than us. Me and Saral see that now and why Jessica likes you so much. Seth sees that in you, too. So, we agreed last night that in our own ways, we would thank you for being with Jessica and being… well… understanding and loving her despite her flaws like we do. Please, just accept a little love from her wives as a reward. That's all this is."
Angela finally got her face rinsed enough to turn around and open her eyes. "This house literally is libido in hypersonic overdrive, huh?"
Sara's lavender cat's eyes, long ears, and very wet slim body was intoxicating to look at. Her hands had not stopped their actions and Angela had lifted a leg to give her more access out of instinct and pleasure. Sara nodded. "It is. It's Seth's fault, but I've known for a long time what his influence does and honestly, this is the best part about it. It used to be harsh. It's gentle now."
Angela put her head on Sara's shoulder to try and concentrate on her words instead of her moans. "Why? It scares normal people to hear about this. Why does it affect people like this?"
Sara didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned Angela abruptly around again and bent her over roughly. Angela gasped when she got entered by something and then another something that went in smoothly into her rear, stretching her open. Angela was startled by the abruptness of it. But to her relief, it should have been painful, yet instead while Sara held her firmly to the shower wall, whatever those two things were began ripping Christmas miracles out of her pleasure spots. The second one railing her rear should have been a disaster because Angela hadn't prepared for it. But somehow, Angela could feel that whatever was in there had instead cleaned her out before it poured pleasure up within her with each thrust. Then whatever they were grew in girth, stretched her fully to her maxes before Sara ramped up her rhythm which made Angela arch her back more to receive. Sara whispered her answer, "You feel that? You feel how that darkness cleanses and purifies and can maximize pleasure? That's because its nature changed a long time ago from the all-consuming nothing into something with a grander, more honorable purpose. We have control over it instead of the other way around and this is nothing compared to what it can really do. Its essence is to bond, to make others want that bond, then make those that bond with it grow and become more than what they were destined for. Seth and the original Pan and the kindness shown to the Abyss is what changed it."
Angela looked back to see that Sara's eyes had swirled to black like Jessica had shown her the night before. She looked lower and saw that Sara had wrapped her lower half in that darkness like what Seth used. That shadowy darkness was what Sara was using to plow into Angela's insides with enthusiasm. It felt amazing and she bit her hand to stifle the scream of pleasure that Sara cranked out of her in that moment of being double tapped with gusto.
Sara smiled triumphantly as the shower's heated water beat down on them and swirled away any and all fluids that Angela discharged. Angela was almost embarrassed at exactly how much she squirted. Not Sara though because she seemed extremely proud of that achievement. Sara soon pulled Angela up by her hair and kissed her just as lovingly as Jessica had before finally letting Angela rest and recover after letting the darkness seep back within her. Sara then held Angela in the shower and kissed her shoulder and neck while Angela slowed her breathing and tried to stop her afterglow shaking.
Angela whispered, "I think I get it now. The Bacchus thing. The shadow connections. The bonds themselves. Power and love. He's using human love and lust to empower the darkness and then the darkness empowers humans right back with whatever he wants."
Sara nodded on her shoulder. "I think that's the most concise description of what is really going on around here that I've ever heard voiced. You're smarter than your husband."
Angela squeezed Sara and rested her head on Sara's shoulder too. "I know. He's a muleheaded guy, so what can you do?"
Sara liked that and laughed a little before withdrawing and turning to head out of the shower. Angela snagged her arm which made Sara turn her head and look back at her. Angela grinned right back at those curious eyes. "Nuh-huh. Favor for a favor. That's the best friend motto that Beth and I took years ago and it's what I live by. Jessica and I agreed to it too. Time to repay that with your exotic tail, Sara my girl."
Sara smiled back winningly as Angela's hand and face got to work within her and it wasn't long before she had Sara stamping her foot to try and keep her legs from buckling at what Angela could do in certain happy circles.
After a few minutes of reveling in a shared afterglow, Angela turned off the water and they helped each other dry off. Angela asked, "Did you tell Jessica you were going to do this? Or do me, rather?"
Sara shook her head. "No. I really only wanted to share something with you that may get you thinking outside of us. To understand us a bit better. I said you were special and that's in a way I can't even describe but it may be exactly what we need to help everyone going forward. We're preparing, but we can only go so far without knowing or getting outside information and more powerful help. Jared just keeps us in the dark on most things. That and you're flippin' hot so I wasn't about to let my wife have all the fun while you’re here."
Angela bowed, "Why thank you! Best compliment all week. As to the other, I get it. I'm sure there are some tidbits I can casually drop a few hints about here and there for you guys to work with. Sound good?"
Sara hugged her again and did a happy, "Yay! Besties!" which dropped Sara's age about twelve years in that moment much to Angela's delight. She loved happy go lucky types.
Angela also really liked the happy home she saw when she got to the kitchen after taking her time to get her emotions in order and got dressed. She was glad that her hope that she didn’t get bent over a kitchen table or something when she walked downstairs had come true.
Seth had apparently been cooking because he had on his white chef's apron over his jean shorts and black t-shirt. Sara was putting plates around the table looking damned cute in a pair of jogging shorts over a one-piece pink bathing suit. Jessica wore a pair of black yoga pants and skimpy crop top but also had her hair up in a ponytail. She was filling a large glass pitcher with orange juice beside a row of glasses. Angela looked around and didn't see someone.
"Good morning. Where's Saral?"
"Behind you."
Angela jumped practically through the roof which sent the kitchen into hysterics. "SARAL!!! I can't believe you did that to me!" she yelled at the smug De'Nari woman dressed in a skimpy blue halter top and grey jogging shorts of her own that did nothing to hide the long white floofy tail swishing merrily while Angela tried to put her racing heart back in her chest.
Saral loll smiled at her and said, "Well. At least I know you're awake. Please sit. How do you like your coffee?"
"I got hers, Saral," called Jessica before she swung around the kitchen island with a large mug of pure black deliciousness in hand.
Angela accepted it gratefully and sipped it as Saral ushered her to a spot at the table. Saral sat next to her, and Jessica put a large glass of juice in front of her too.
"Thank you, love," Saral said lovingly.
Angela said, “Thanks Jess. I needed this."
"You're both welcome. Breakfast will be served in about five more minutes. Just waiting on the eggs, I think."
Jessica left them and Saral leaned over to Angela. "Seems you had a good night and a good morning. Did they treat you well?"
Angela bumped Saral, "Yes and yes. I'm guessing you can smell them or something?"
Saral nodded. "I can. Even a shower doesn't remove all of Jessica's acidic smell nor Sara's deep woods moss smell."
"Huh. What do I smell like?"
Saral sniffed her again and seemed to think about it. "Kind of like the ocean but stilled and heated by the sun."
Angela pulled Saral to her and nuzzled that wonderful woman's head a little. "Thank you for that. That's poetry to my heart."
"Well! You're quite welcome." Saral said cheerfully and drank a little more of her juice.
Seth started serving plates and Jessica came around and put a plate of breakfast in front of both Angela and Saral. Angela was in love all over again because Jessica knew what she liked and apparently Saral had the same love thoughts too because the lady was almost bouncing in happiness. They shared a look of understanding between themselves and giggled at each other for it. Angela's plate was well rounded with scrambled eggs, some grits, a few sausage patties, and toast. Saral's was mostly sausage and eggs with a piece of cantaloupe to the side. Seth put his down and it was cantaloupe and eggs with one piece of sausage. Jessica had hers piled high with everything and Sara's almost matched it.
Seth sat at the head of the table next to Saral and Jessica with Sara across from Angela.
Angela and Saral bumped each other again in matronly solidarity before Seth started the conversation with, "Sooooo… what's your plans today?"
Angela looked at Jessica and almost spit her coffee because Jessica's mouth was stuffed with a sausage patty and she couldn't even smile because it was so full. "Yeah, little piggy? What have you got planned for me other than showing me your nifty new wings?"
Jessica finally swallowed everything down and gulped some juice to help it along. "Oh hush! I'm starving! Anyway, wings is one, but I was wondering if you had any interest in the barns and horses or wanted to go into town and shop or something?"
"SHOPPING!" Angela shouted immediately and happily. "I haven't been properly shopping in damn near forever! I'm tired of doing most of it online and having to wait for customs to clear it!"
Jessica and Sara were extremely giddy at that prospect. Sara tipped her coffee cup up and said, "Well that sounds great! You and Saral can keep me and Jessica out of trouble."
"Uhhhh, what about me?" Seth asked with a small voice. The whole table turned to him. Angela spoke up for the group. "And what about you, devil-boy? You always get all the attention, so let your wives have a day to themselves."
Seth took the admonishment. Jessica saved him. "Babe. Go spend time in the NeverNever. Rufio, Nibs, Sledgehammer, Demona, Jackal, and Tootles's tribes would probably appreciate your undivided attention for a few years or so, don't you think?"
Angela could see it in an instant that what Jessica had told her was true. Seth wasn't in control of his life anymore, not really. The women at this table were and Jessica proved it with a gentle suggestion that was more of a command. Seth nodded and smiled lovingly at her and said, "You're right. That does sound like a good idea. I probably ought to tour the whole realm as a squish into today or into tomorrow afternoon at latest and take stock of everyone. I'm sure there are many new faces and names that I should get to know."
Angela had to ask the question that had been always burning in her mind since the war and especially when she read the De'Nari war reports that Jared had left lying around one day. It hit her suddenly because of how both Jessica and Seth talked about putting years into a day of time. "Hey Seth. I'm going to ask a question and all I want is a yes or no. When you go to the NeverNever world you're from, can you manipulate time there?"
Seth smiled at her, "Jessica could have answered that one. The answer is yes."
"Really?! Does Jared know you can do that?!"
"I don't think he knows that I can, but if you tell him I can, you might blow his mind. I would prefer it if you didn't, though."
"Why?"
Seth's face lost its smile and then his eyes swirled black, and Angela saw the true power behind Jessica and Sara's eyes. The being that Jessica mentioned stared at her and it creeped the shit out of her too. Especially when that eerie woman's voice said in a warning, "Because time is the first step to Order, and I eat order. The more your kind learns about me and what I am and can do, the more I want to come and feed. Please… don't tempt me. I can work with your angel, but I don't want to be understood. It’s really for your own good."
Angela closed her eyes and nodded. She opened them again and all of her lady friends at the table stared at her with those same eyes as his, only his had true swirls of stars in them. "I'm speaking directly with the… Abyss, right?"
"Legion. I'm Legion. I'm the Shadow. The Abyss is… them and more. It's wonderful to meet you. Please, drop your questions because I'm getting interested in you and Seth does not want the consequences of my curiosity."
Angela stood up and walked over and around to stare down at this being calling itself Legion. "Listen well, Legion. Keep your promises and keep those I care about safe and loving, and I promise, I will help you as best as I can to help you succeed through Jared. I'm not afraid of you or any of the weird crap around me. I'm scared of losing it all. Deal?"
The face smiled a little at her. "You are getting more interesting. I like you. If ever…"
Angela touched the lips to stop it from uttering what she heard coming. "No. Don't offer. I don't want to be tempted either. Let's just not tempt each other, how's that? That's the deal."
"Deal."
Seth and the rest of the lady's eyes went normal, and Angela put her hand on Seth's shoulder. "Seth. I get it and I want the same things you all do. Jared does too and I will tell him exactly how I see you all and so far, this was worth my time. Besides, you're all fun to hang around with. So, please. Let me have the ladies today and go take a vacation or something. I'll bring them back in one piece, I promise."
Jessica had been sitting right behind Angela and thwapped her rear. Angela turned at the pop and pointed at her. "Girl! Pop me again and watch me take you by your ear and put you in timeout!"
Angela really liked the loud laughter that elicited, and she left her happy buddy to go back to eating so she could scarf down her own meal. The happy chatter that ensued after was centered around which stores that they wanted to visit and what Angela might want to look for as little gifts and such. Angela was back in her element, but she'd gotten a more insightful understanding of these people in the last day than she thought Jared or any of the others at the military side of the Academy had over the last twenty years. Jared, she would tell, the rest could go suck eggs.
For this trip, Jessica's truck wouldn't do since it didn't seat four. So, since Sara and Saral didn't drive, Sara and Seth got out some maps and made a plan according to input from Saral and Angela on the stores or shopping plazas they'd like to visit.
Angela was astonished at the impact such a power could have. The few teleporting powered individuals she'd met at the Academy or had read about COULD NOT do this. They were all short distance, line of sight jumpers. Angela got the chills when she remembered the UN Fiasco as it was called when they tried to bring a being of unlimited potential to justice. She was seeing firsthand how Seth and his little demon kids could pull off the most terrible of mass assassinations in one night if distance and obstacles weren't a factor. Jared soooo underestimates Seth and even though he's said it before, Angela was going to reiterate by how much when she got home.
But then Jessica did something that surprised Angela. She and Sara jotted down all of the places they were going to visit and then she took out her cell phone to make a call.
Jessica came around the table and plopped right into Angela’s lap and began playing with Angela’s hair as she talked. That made Angela giggle and hug Jessica around her waist, and it also let her hear the conversation that ensued.
The phone picked up. “Hello, this is Alex.”
“Hi Alex! It’s me, Jessica!”
“Hi Mrs. Al’Thaoal. What can I help you with?”
“Oh. Well. Uhm, so I’m just reporting in as we promised. You probably already know about Angela Stockton visiting, right?”
“Yeah. I got the log in this morning about her arrival by De’Nari transport. I got chewed out for that by the way.”
Jessica giggled a little. “I’m sorry. But she’s got connections, so what can you do?”
“I know. Is that all?”
“Oh no. There’s more. So, I’m taking her shopping today.”
“Okay?”
“I’m sorry. I misspoke. Sara is going to take me, Angela, and Saral shopping today.”
“Crap. You mean the shadow jumping stuff, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Get a dang minivan, lady! The reports I have to fill out for that stuff suck!”
Jessica giggled again at his mock stern voice. “I’ll think about it. Anyway, I’m going to text you the list of spots we’ll be visiting today. And Seth isn’t coming, just us.”
“Is he staying home?”
“Not really? He’s going to visit his homeland for the day and probably into tomorrow evening, though, so you don’t have to worry.”
“I always worry when it’s him. Is that the only place he’s going to visit?”
Jessica looked over at her husband who had a mischievous grin on his face. “Yes, Alex. He is NOT going to visit anywhere else… ARE YOU SETH?”
Seth frowned and said softly, “No, babe. I’m only going to my homeland. Alex! Being in prison sucks balls!”
Angela heard Alex’s laughter through the phone. “Tell him it’s supposed to.”
Jessica did by saying, “Alex says to go in timeout and stay there until I get back. Tough nookie.”
“That’s not what I said, but it’ll do. Is there anything else?”
“Other than telling Jayden ‘hi’ and if he wants that Sioux gumbo recipe Jed has, he needs to shoot me an email address. I’m sure that new girlfriend of his Miriam would love that.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have that by the end of the day. Have fun and text me when you return, please.”
“I will. Oh, and uhm… you really ought to get rid of that tie. That purple paisley thing is ugly, and it has an awful mustard stain on it from the sandwich to your right. You really ought to go back to wearing Hawaiian shirts.”
“DAMN IT! I hate it when you do that! Where’s that damned spider?!”
Beep! Jessica was cackling like crazy at the phone when she hung up. Angela was laughing too along with the others at the table. They all loved it when Jessica did subtle practical jokes like that with her global spider army.
“Okay. We’re all set. Are we heading out like this are do we dress up a little?”
Saral tapped Jessica on the arm. “I’ll need you to pick out something for me. I don’t know what to expect out there.”
Angela liked this side of Saral. The shy and naïve side that engendered protective understanding from the women around her. “Hey Saral. I’ll help too. Come on, Jess. Get off and let’s get this lady something worthy of her grace to wear.”
“Oooo, I like that,” said Sara.
Seth stood up. “Well, ladies. Give me a kiss or two and I’ll be off to let you have your day.”
Jessica was first and she planted a long loving one on him. Sara went next and did much the same. Saral came in for a nuzzle and got groped that both made her make funny sounds and also swish her tail like crazy. Angela got up and gave him a hug and said to him, “Thank you for understanding. Do you want anything while we’re out?”
Seth smiled back at her winningly and shook his head. “No. Just keep them out of trouble and tell me all about it when I get back.”
Angela nodded and stood back. Seth pooled blackness beneath himself and was gone in an instant which startled the crap out of her. “What the heck, man!” she yelped.
Sara came around and snagged her arm. “Happens all the time. Come on, lady friend. We need to get more presentable before we head out.”
Jessica and Saral followed them up to Jessica’s bedroom and larger than life closet that made Angela jealous of all that it held. “Damnit! It’s official! Jared is building me one of these as of now! This is amazing!”
Jessica beamed in pride as they started rummaging through it for everyone. Angela was thankfully a little shorter than Jessica and could wear the fancy black silk pleated skirt and deep maroon blouse she pulled out for her. Sara opted for a swishy and almost too short dress for herself of teal. Jessica wore practically the same thing only in sunshine yellow. Then the three of them turned to Saral who looked at them in wide eyes of fear when they all came for her. “Hey! What the black moon?!” she squealed when the ladies began figuring out what would go with her white fur and blue eyes the best. Sara even ran off and came back with some of the custom-made dresses that Jessica had previously gotten for her, and they critiqued them. Saral was getting flustered because they talked around her and weren’t letting her have a say.
“HEY! MY BODY! MY DECISION YOU NIT WITS!” Saral finally yelled at them.
Jessica quickly nuzzled her and said, “We’re sorry. You’re right. Here. We think one of these four would do you justice, which one would you like to wear?”
Sara laid out the four outfits on the enormous near eight-person bed and let Saral finally look at them. Angela walked up and held Saral around her waist as a sign of support. Saral’s tail kept whacking into her leg making her laugh softly.
“I like the purple dress. It’s long and flowy. My tail will make it swish about.”
Jessica held it up and said, “Okay girl, let’s get you in this, then we can freshen up and get some shopping in.”
Twenty minutes later, Angela was in the middle of a circle of gabbing women and was at one with the universe. She hadn’t really ever had friends like this before and it was exhilarating. Beth wouldn’t like this in no uncertain terms, but she sure did.
The transportation to their first store left a lot to be desired though. That’s what Angela’s stomach told her after she blinked a few times and tried not to toss her breakfast all over Saral when they arrived in a shadowy alley beside the first store within the strip mall.
“Ugh. Give me a supersonic winged man any day over that shadow jumping stuff. I think my guts are gonna spill out or something,” she complained. Looking around at the faces of women who had not one ounce of sympathy for her didn’t help any. “Oh, don’t you three look at me in that tone of voice. Let’s get walking before I have to get mean.”
Saral took her hand and pulled her along. “Come on then, whiney.”
Jessica and Sara took each other’s hand and followed them. Shopping with these three exotic women was another eye-opening experience. They were all three getting stares from normal people, and most weren’t in a fun ‘oooo look at how pretty they are way’ either. Jessica was a short red-headed super model. Sara was a taller Awakened with exotic eyes and long ears that made her look like a fantasy elf come to life. But Saral was a De’Nari.
Unfortunately, Saral garnered the most attention because most normal people still hadn’t seen a De’Nari in the flesh because of political slowness and De’Nari caution. She was like an infamous movie star seen in public. The number of phones taking pictures was starting to get unsettling and Saral wasn’t taking it so well after their third stop to see if there was some casual fashion that would accommodate any of them.
Not having much luck and feeling more eyes on them, Sara ducked them over to the mall itself and pulled them into the lingerie store. That was fun and Angela knew exactly what she was gonna get. She also helped find Saral some basics that would make her femininity pop plus some more erotic outfits that would accommodate her tail and would probably get her into no end of the seggsies if she wore them around the house. Angela, Sara, and Jessica got her to try on four erotic outfits and each one was better than the one before. Jessica bought them all plus the three that Sara picked out and two for herself. Angela kept thinking of what would work best with her highflying exploits and grabbed another set of lacy and easy to get into bottoms for herself plus two similar ones that Sara had picked out. Then she got horny and bought two leather strappy outfits too which had the rest of her shopping buddies giggling in understanding. Angela couldn’t help getting horny just thinking about another speed run around Avalon and some other late-night adventures with the huge hunk of angel she’d married.
But that mood soured when they exited the store and their happy chatter died immediately because there was at least a thirty-person crowd in front of them and they were not enthusiastic about them being there.
Jessica and Sara stood in front of them and eyed the crowd of people glaringly. One of them, a nearly obese balding white guy dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt stepped forward. “You lot need to leave. This is our mall. Our home. Not that dog’s and definitely not her freak girl either.”
Jessica snapped. “You piece of shit! Do you own these stores? Do you own the land under your feet? Do you own anything that gives you the right to say that crap to two ladies who only wanted to look pretty for someone they love? What kind of shit person are you to think your opinion has any power over the happiness of another?”
“I’m human and that gives me all the rights I need. This is our world, not theirs!”
Angela stepped forward quickly because she saw Jessica’s arm twitch. She grabbed Jessica and held her arm while at the same time pulling Saral behind her to shield Saral from this speciest crap.
A skinny Asian woman stepped up beside the offending guy from the crowd and pointed at Sara, “And take that filthy Awakened freak with you. They are abominations in this world and need to be sent away from here. Go up to the Ring where you belong, filthy dog, and take that thing with you!”
Angela’s mouth hung open at the vehemence in the woman’s tone and at the agreement of the people forming the crowd behind her. Then she did something she didn’t think she would ever do. She let Jessica go and said, “Show them what an abomination looks like Jessica. They’re not gonna listen otherwise.”
Jessica grinned evilly before covering herself in her new black and red armor with the white De’Nari skull’s face, whipped out her blood red wasp wings, then charged up her arm canon to point at them. In the coldest, most inhuman tone imaginable, she said words that chilled the air like the deepest winter, “You are the abominations here. I’m disgusted by what I see before me. Such inhumanity. Such vileness. Such insignificance. You are nothing and the De’Nari’s efforts are wasted on you!”
The crowd backed up from the inhuman thing Jessica became. But they ran when Sara shifted to Pan and truly began to menace them with her black demonic looking form, purple fire eyes, claws, and shifting tentacles that began to grow out of her from various places.
When the awful hatefilled crowd was gone, Jessica and Sara let their stuff go and seemed to both be saddened by what they were forced to do. Angela knew the shit would hit the fan and called off the rest of the day. “Let’s go ladies. We’ll figure out something else because we all know that this is going to bite us in the ass.”
Sara stood her ground. “No! We’re at least going to go to the toy store, damnit! I’ve been wanting to go for weeks, and they aren’t ruining that for me!”