Lilith

He hears a voice call out "Dinnae drink frae that, meester, it's a' fu' o' coo piss an' shite!".

Turning, the hiker sees a Scottish shepherd leaning on a stick, and he replies "I'm terribly sorry, but could you kindly repeat that in the King's English?"

in most languages the word for ‘mother’ usually starts with an M, because phonetically [m] is one of the easiest sounds for a newborn to make when they start babbling, and mothers tend to be the one most around the child. so in my mind that crosses M off the list, because it’s automatically associated with a feminine figure

similarly, ‘father’ tends to start with D, T, P, or B. (phonetically these sounds are very close together; [p, b] and [d, t] are all only different because of being voiced or unvoiced.) these are also phonetically easy letters and ones kids pick up on earlier.

now the hard sounds for kids are the following: [ɹ, d͡ʒ, tʃ, θ, ð] or in normal speak: the English R, the “j” or “dge” sound in “judge,” the “th” sound in “thigh” and the “th” sound in “the.” and we don’t want kids unable to say their parent’s name for years, so those are also off the list.

additionally, it’s easiest for young kids to just repeat the same sound twice rather than figuring out the tongue gymnastics of putting different sounds together, which is why kids will say Ma-Ma or Da-Da and not Ma-Mo or Da-Po. and we’ll want to stick with low back vowels like “ah” and avoid ones like the hard “i” or “ee.”

so what does that leave us? when we want a sound kids can learn easily and early but don’t want to just put a funky spin on “mama” or “dada”?

my suggestions: G, K, W, L. i personally lean towards W and L. they’re called liquids, since they’re the consonants that kind of aren’t consonants, and kids (and ESL learners) will tend to swap out the English R for a W or L until they can learn the R.

if i ever have a child, they’ll start calling me Wawa. then when they get older, they’ll call me Wala, or maybe even Wally.

and then, once they’re finally phonetically developed, they can call me by my true title as their nonbinary guardian for their 18+ years:

GAUDY SLIME Again I come to you, my followers, To ask a question near my goopy heart: When speaking to a parent, gender - none, What name am I to give them when I call? For, while “progenitor” is accurate, ‘Tis not a quip to call across the town.

FIRST CLOWN The word that comes to mind at first is “dom”.

FIRST WIZARD ‘Tis true, but if revers’d thy message is, A “moderator” comes to mind, with “mod”.

SECOND WIZARD Why, “op” would work when paired with “admin” ‘tis.

GAUDY SLIME Say “admin” when respect and love thou needst, Say “op” when meant derogatorily.

DOGGONLO At first, hearing thy words, I was to jest; But then, at second thought, I pondered it. What could one use when not a “ma” or “pa”? So, “ma”, the word, comes from a babe’s outcry, Since “em” and “ah” are easy to pronounce. And “da” and “pa” are also simply said. So what for gender-null? What for our Slime? Well, “ja” and “tha” and “tsa” are none a fit, As “ja-tha-tsa” are difficult to say - No babe could speak them while still in its youth. And in addition, repetition’s key, For “ma-ma” is to “pa-ma” pref'rable. We’ll stay with low and back-held vowels, too, For “ee” and “eye” are too complex for babes, So to the “ah” and “ooh” we keep our sound. Remaining still available to us, Good “ga”, kind “ka”, wise “wa”, and, lastly, “la”. Of these fine gents I point to “la” and “wa” As consonants that almost vowels be And make for ease of song for baby voice. If ever I a child take to me (For man or woman, neither one am I) A “wawa” or a “lala” will I be. And as they grow, their speech will strong become Till finally my true name’s in their grasp: 'Tis Waluigi.

FIRST ATTENDANT Spite! O, I am hit! I thought I was to learn the lore of words But struck by cruel and slapstick strike am I!

THIRD WIZARD Uh, “baba” works, it’s used in other tongues.

SECOND ATTENDANT Yes, “baba” is the one I use, i'faith. But still - o Seer, why must thou attack?

SECOND CLOWN It seems to me that “tata” is the one For babes to “tatas” cling, no matter what.

GAUDY SLIME Wait, clown, dost thou speak truth to me? Real truth? Will babes reach for a breast devoid of milk?

CLOWNS and ATTENDANTS cheer in affirmation.

O never had I thought this day would come.

Enter the gay mothers, THOUGHTFUL and SUZLOUA.

THOUGHTFUL I cannot of a milkless breast inform, But lights shaped like a breast will draw the babe.

SUZLOUA I’ve heard the same by others said before. My son’s reached out for tied balloons in past.

GAUDY SLIME In gratitude I share with you a tale 'Twas whisper’d to my ear a moment since: One said, when baptised, he then look’d about And tried to eat the “milk” of candles lit.

THIRD CLOWN This scene has all that ever I could want, The milk of human kindness shows itself, The gender-neutral words are brought along, And finally, our Waluigi’s here.

GAUDY SLIME Before we go, one final note to say: A friend has lately told that, as a child, They’d call for “maud” to come, for 'twas A combination “ma” and “dad” in brief.

Merriment and rejoicing. The SHAKESPEAREIFIER lurks in the corner, taking notes.

My thoughts don’t make me a bad person

My feelings don’t make me a bad person

My thoughts, feelings, and impulses only exist inside my head, and none of it matters unless I act on it

Nobody can see my thoughts or emotions

The only things anyone can see and judge me on are my actions

There’s no such thing as a thought crime

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

About a guy who escaped North Korea

He said living there was like living in a pot

And he grew up there, so he grew into the shape of the pot

But once he was out

And the pot was gone

He was still in the shape of the pot

And he had to work really hard to grow outside that shape

I think its the same with alot of things

Art, gender presentation, decoration prefrences, food, hobbies