#and the expectation for mother to become their primary identity

[cabinetduo]

I love how kinda shit Tina is with kids it's incredible to me. like she thinks the eggs are adorable and fawns all over them but when it comes to like practical stuff she slips up a lot and freaks about the responsibility. When she's unprepared she's super awkward like when she first met em she spent most of her time overthinking and panicking. Or during the date when Richas started playing pretend with her and Bagi, Bagi adapted pretty quick but Tina had some trouble playing along. And she's hyper aware of to. Shes very insecure about her parenting abilities and swears up and down that her first meeting with Empanda was a garbage fire. She is, however, determined to do better. Shes actively trying to become a better parent and is holding herself to it. I just really like that she's not immediately settling into being a mother. Not everyone immediately acclimates to parenthood and it fits super well for her character.

[markiafc]

not sure how to put this into words. but buddhism (literature, figures, history, etc.) is queer and has been queered over the years. and when a chinese story embarks on a daoism-buddhism-confucianism study, there are echoes of similar themes, devices, techniques, allusions. by nature of being a chinese story, the frequent heart of it is a daoism & buddhism vs. confucianism ideological battle where the latter is rules and conventions and social expectations. and the former is liberation, a queered deviancy because it advocates for plurality and fluidity.

the lotus sutra has a prominent gender-change motif so as to present freedom... the buddhist ideal to emancipate oneself from mainstream society is often realized as a release from the gender hegemony. non-duality teachings in buddhism encompasses all of this.

in the lotus sutra, the dragon girl turns into a male and then proceeds to attain enlightenment - in direct response to the men telling her she cannot do so, that women are spiritually disadvantaged. transitioning is a queer act but also a buddhist achievement: an entity letting go of their body and subsequently their confucian identity of "father", "son", "wife", "mother", "daughter", etc. through this they learn non-duality & non-self & abandoning illusions, the primary concepts to buddhism.

in the lotus sutra, bodhisattva guanyin also notably underwent a male to female transformation. back in the day, guanyin's male form was at first more popular and their masculine image dominated. today it's an androgynous woman in white robes that's become iconic. this gender fluid nature again stands for liberation; guanyin is a beloved figure for women because they depict a breakaway from male-oriented society and the patriarchy. from the sanskrit name "avalokitesvara" (lord who looks down) to the chinese "guanyin" (one who observes the sounds). the chinese symbol of mercy is necessarily linked to a male to female trajectory, described to have a total of 33 male and female forms. for artistic depictions, guanyin has a feminine face but a masculine body (typically an exposed flat chest) too.

even when imagined as a girl without a history of gender swaps, they were still an antithesis to the male-dominated confucian scene. 妙善 miao shan is guanyin's other popular myth: the princess at odds with her royal father. she refuses his demands to marry until he ultimately executes her. it is a narrative negating the confucian relationships, (a) father/son or child, (b) ruler/subject, and (c) husband/wife. this is the constant of guanyin. a direct challenge to chinese patriarchal ideals.

as an aside, post-execution miao shan becomes a bodhisattva in the mountains through one spiritual miracle or another. in the mean time her father grows ill and the only cure is the eyes and arms of a person without anger. they seek out miao shan, not knowing who she is, and she gives up both arms and eyes for her father. after his recovery, the true identity of the bodhisattva is revealed and the father changes his ways. and miao shan ascends to become guanyin. related because an elusive figure amongst nature, blind and physically impaired, is also.... a prevalent trope for enlightened peoples.

overlapping the feminine and the masculine, a presence that has one foot in both categories, is the buddhist language for enlightenment + a manifestation of core buddhist teachings. when you are outside the gender regime and when you are outside human society, when you're beyond a cogent and organized identity, you are free. you are happy. which also means you are queer!

[middenway]

The colour of Turning Red – Part 5

Here's a link to Part 1.

Now look how this scene changes as Ming's mother enters the scene. It's just her voice, but there's a massive shift.

I love the intensity of Grandma Wu's introduction. This tight shot with the scar given to her by Ming dominating the scene is extremely purposeful. She has a single stray hair in her eyebrow, which she promptly removes. This is what matters to Wu and this builds on the language of hair and why Ming's hair is always perfect. And that idea is linked with the scar here.

Back to school. In this scene Mei loses her temper at Tyler... and it's on the basketball court, the space frequently associated with him.

There's no way that's an accident. And look, the gym uniforms are green, because Mei's supposed to be the restrained version of herself... but she fails.

I love how this bathroom scene uses scene direction to control colour changes. The first two pictures are reverse shots at the beginning of the scene. Both are teal dominant, Mei's with a splash of purple in the tiles behind her.

But watch how the colour of the scene changes by choosing different angles. Suddenly the primary colour identity becomes pink.

When they find a room for their hustle, they leave the teal of the school hallways and enter a warm classroom.

And look how much pink appears in this scene.

Even the Canadian flag, which I'm told has red on it, sure looks pink here!

And here's an important scene with Tyler. Note how much he's covered up here. His identity becomes grey. He really feels the need to fit in and be accepted, and he does that by covering up who he is. Notice he and Mei are in the same space, but she's framed in the light, while he's framed in shadow.

When we are properly introduced to the aunties and Grandma Wu, notice how while they are all primarily identified with teal, they have splashes of other colour to break it up. Likewise, look at the items we're shown that hold their pandas. None are completely red like Ming's. None of them police themselves to the degree that Ming does.

You have to wonder, why is it Ming and not any of the others that took on the responsibility of the panda temple? So much of Ming's identity is tied up with what is expected of her to a degree that the others are not.

I like the way this tuft of fur here is shaped and lit to look like fire. Such a nice touch.

To be continued in Part 6.

[gatheringbones]

[“In addition to the gender imbalance of societal perceptions of anger, dads partnered to women also need to consider that because they are not usually the primary parent, the cultural expectations for them are drastically lower than they are for mothers.

Motherhood is touted as the top of the mountain for women, “the best job in the world.” With that kind of pressure to not only become mothers, but to love it and do it right (or at least perform the role of happy, perfect mom to continue the scam of Motherhood), raging at our families feels like the ultimate taboo. It is the opposite of what we were taught mothers are supposed to be like. Raging is not gentle, not kind, not nurturing, not affectionate, and not supportive. In essence, raging is anti-Mother. But raging is not anti-father. In Western culture, fathers get to be anything they want. They can be kind or domineering (or both!) because fathers aren’t wholly defined by their fatherhood. It is not considered their highest calling. Fatherhood is a side gig. Dads are not in the midst of the greatest identity battle of their lives, disoriented and flailing as they become new selves. Fathers get to stay who they are when they have kids, whereas moms are just Mother.

So, if raging is anti-Mother, and Mother is all we are, then all we are is bad.

Under the patriarchal institution of motherhood, all the visible and invisible labor mothers do (picking the kids up from school, meal planning, researching summer camps, scheduling the dad’s next colonoscopy) is in service to the interests of men. Each one is a tiny gift of freedom the mother grants the father. Because she has done the labor, he doesn’t have to. While fathers may have their own laundry lists of personal gripes, their entire lives have not been usurped to serve the interests of women. If dads could take in these nuances, and understand that mom rage is an experience rooted in misogyny and the disempowering gender dynamics of patriarchy, they would see that mom rage is much more complicated than moms getting “too mad.” And, hopefully, this understanding can expand dads’ compassion for the mothers they love, minimizing the distance between them. A father who gets it might even reach for the mother’s spinning body, pull her from the shame spiral, and rock her gently, his body a safe mother place.”]

minna dubin, from mom rage: the everyday crisis of modern motherhood, 2023

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Five - Careful, Merchant

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Masterlist

As it turns out, the court mage worked under the keep. When Minho led you down a set of stairs, you were expecting your typical lower level of a keep: dark, dingy, moist hallways. Maybe you would see the dungeon down here.

Or perhaps this is where they’ve decided to finally kill you. 

But it was quite the opposite. 

At the bottom of the steps, the stairwell opened up to a small foyer with two hallways leading off either side. On the opposite side of the stairs was a door. 

A chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. The room was decorated like it was meant to entertain guests before a fancy dinner. 

Minho walked right through the foyer and down the hallway to the left. 

Sconces with otherworldly, unnatural lights lined the hallway. They gave off a more pink-ish light than the typical orange you’re accustomed to with fire.They didn’t flicker the same way that flames would either, their light was constant and unmoving.  

There was a pleasant warmth down here as well, the air seemed to hum and fizz around you. 

A long, red carpet ran down the center of the hallway. Every few steps there would be a painting on the wall, each depicting something different. A rose, a beach, a set of hands, there didn’t seem to be a theme, but the style looked identical. These were no doubt all painted by the same person.

The hallway was short, only about thirty feet long. A sudden scent of roses and bergamot wraps around your nose. It settled into your bones and took your brain into a safer space. A space of happiness and comfort, a mother’s embrace of a headspace. 

A swoosh and a bang is heard next, the ground beneath your feet rumbles with the supposed impact.  

Your entire body tenses up, body prepared to intercept any danger. 

“Relax.” Minho’s voice is only slightly condescending. Your jaw clenches to stop yourself from ushering a snarky comment back to him. 

Minho walks up to a door towards the end of the hallway and raps his knuckles against it quickly. Within a heartbeat, the door opens. 

From your position behind Minho, you can see that no one is standing there. No one opened it. 

‘Mages.’ You roll your eyes. 

Personally, you had no problem with mages. To be honest, it has been years since you’ve even seen one. The reason for that was simple; most of the magic users in the world were Elves. 

Banish Elves, you banish the mages. 

Back home, there was only one mage left that you knew of, he worked as the Jarl of Erbus’ healer and primary point of contact for information on any magical artifacts. But if the whispers were true, he was absolutely horrible at his job. 

He was only a human. Magic didn’t flow through his veins the way it did for Elves. 

But here in Miroh, they have a healer and a court mage. This fact alone still has the gears in your head turning. Were Elves free here?

Minho walks into the room without a second thought, immediately you follow. 

The room opens up and that same smell of rose and bergamot becomes burnt, the air is marginally warmer in here. The hallways were already hot, but now it feels like you’ve stepped into a lit hearth. 

The first thing you notice is the man standing in the center of the room, he’s wearing dark red robes, the hood down, revealing bright blonde hair with a thick red streak down the back towards the right side. It was around the same length as Felix’s; drawn up in a half up-half down style. If it wasn’t for the red patch, you might’ve actually mistaken him for the healer. 

His back was turned to you. 

He’s standing on top of the stone floor that has a large rune carved into it. The circular rune appeared to be about ten feet in diameter. Small, blue flames hovered in the air around the outer edge of the circle. 

So many intricate lines are chiseled into the floor, symbols from an ancient Elvish language drawn around it. 

You’ve only seen a rune like this in books before. It’s an ancient practice of Elvish magic. 

The stone appeared burnt almost everywhere, soot caked in between each crack. 

The rest of the room was huge, there even was a second story with a balcony overlooking the floor. Everywhere you looked there was a magical artifact, dozens upon dozens of bookcases, at least four workbenches all covered in potions and ingredients and scrolls littered the tables. 

Lines of shelves line each wall with so many different items on them. Anything from plants to large crystals. 

Whatever room you stepped into is well loved and well lived in. 

“I come bearing a gift.” Minho’s sarcasm drips like honey from a spoon. 

This was most like Hyunjin, no?

The mage turns around, there’s a large, thick book open in his left hand, his right hand free. Numerous rings sit upon his long, thin fingers. There’s a bored, yet mildly annoyed expression on his face. 

But you couldn’t focus on his outward display of emotions, all you could pay attention to was just how otherworldly beautiful this man was. Everything about him was perfect. 

Everything down to the way his hair curls behind his-

Your heart thuds in your chest. 

His pointed ears .

He’s an elf. This is a pure blooded elf.  The last time you even looked upon one was your own father and you haven’t seen him since…. Since..

Your thoughts were cut off.

“Thank you, Minho. You can go now.” Hyunjin waves him off rather rudely before looking back down at his book.

Minho only huffs under his breath and turns to leave. He takes one last, quick glance at you before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

With the new silence in the room, you’re able to hear the sizzling of embers on the floor. That boom before you entered the room had to be from him, right? Most likely a fire spell. You’re no scholar, but you’re not stupid. 

Deciding to keep your mouth shut, you move away from the doorway and slowly meander along the side of the wall. 

Like the hall, paintings and other various drawings cover the stone walls. It wasn’t just canvases that hung on the stone, ordinary paper was also tacked up wherever it seems he could find room. Vines from plants grew everywhere; some wrapped around the drawings, some over, some under. It was as if the plants and paintings were just as crucial to the keep’s structure as the stone was. 

Your favorite drawing looked like it was on a page torn from a spell book. It was a charcoal drawing of a bonfire drawn over the instructions for the spell itself. Two silhouettes were sitting on a log in front of the fire. They were cuddled against one another.

“Do you often snoop through other’s belongings?” Hyunjin’s voice cut through the air. 

You spun around to look at him. His sharp eyes follow your every move. He’s just so breathtaking. Truly, you thought a demi god must be standing in front of you. 

“I am not snooping, these drawings are hanging on the wall to display. You obviously seem busy. Am I to simply wait and twiddle my thumbs?”

He watches you for a few more seconds before looking back down to his book. Instead of turning away, you decide to watch him. 

He obviously didn’t like you looking at his drawings this closely. But that’s alright, there was another work of art right in front of your eyes. 

An Elf was standing in front of you. And he was able to study and practice magic freely. Allowed to live in the keep, to come and go whenever he pleased. 

His ears were very prominent on the side of his head. You always kept yours hidden under your hair. 

Additionally, you were lucky in the sense that even though your ears also came to a point, it was nowhere as severe as Hyunjin’s. 

If someone looked quickly at you, they wouldn’t be able to tell. Plus, once you put a few piercings up towards the tip, it became even easier to conceal. The rings and studs drew the eye instead of the shape. 

The air around you starts to hum even more, it feels like static surrounding your skin, each hair stands on end.

Hyunjin’s right hand raises, each finger posed in a specific fashion. 

His hand moves and dances in the air, his head stays pointed down at the book. The flames around the perimeter of the rune begin to glow even brighter and grow in size. All of the lines that run through the rune start to light up, starting from where the flames hovered. 

The room grows colder; is he taking the heat from the atmosphere? Air begins swirling around his fingers, dancing between the digits. 

Hyunjin mutters under his breath, you’re just barely able to hear it, even with your sensitive hearing. The rune glows even brighter and brighter. 

A loud swoosh is heard and all of the light from the rune flies towards Hyunjin’s hand, it slides up the entirety of his body as if he’s holding a magnet. His arm appears to tremble, it takes so much strength to hold all of the energy he has in the palm of his hand. 

The swirling air in his hands fizzles and collapses inwards on itself with internal pressure like a star. 

It sounds like the room takes a deep breath and then Hyunjin spins and swings his arm around, expertly hurling the flaming energy ball at the wall across the room. 

The explosion that comes from the impact rattles your ear drums. Your hands immediately fly over your ears to cover them. 

Heat blasts over your face and your hair flies around wildly, your eyes squint close to protect themselves. 

Truly, when you opened your eyes again, you were expecting to see a giant crater in the wall. But it seems unharmed, only soot covered the impact spot. 

A long string of curses come from Hyunjin under his breath. He snaps the book closed and basically stomps over to the nearest workbench, throwing the book down as if it wasn’t a priceless magical tome. 

Hyunjin keeps his head down and slides various papers all over the work table, muttering all kinds of words at the same time. 

Your head cocks to the side as you watch his tiny temper tantrum. Why did he seem so upset? Obviously the spell worked. 

After a few moments, he heaves a sigh and looks up. His head snaps towards yours and he briskly walks in the direction of the door. 

“Are we leaving then?” He asks, adjusting his robe, his lithe fingers ironing out any wrinkles in the fabric. 

“Aye, if you are ready.”

“I am, I want to get back as soon as possible. That attack won't perfect itself.”

“It seemed fine to me.” You try to compliment him. 

Hyunjin stops mid-step to look over at you, his head then turns to look over at the wall where his fireball had slammed into it, then back to you. “There is hardly a pebble missing from the stone, you call that a success?”

Your lips press into a line, when you open your mouth to respond, he cuts you off. 

“It is not. And I will not rest until I can at least see into the next room.”

He then grabs the door handle and yanks it open. 

Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles out of your mouth. Hyunjin looks at you so fast you think his head might topple from his neck. 

“Why would you attempt to destroy your own wall?” You chuckle, “What happens afterwards? Are you attempting to renovate?”

Hyunjin stares at you, then looks back at the wall one last time. He sputters a few words, none of them make sense.

Then, he seems to give up, he only yanks the door open and walks out. 

“It does not matter!” He calls from the hallway. Your chuckles continue as you follow him out of the room. ----------------------------------------------

Miroh’s capital city was divided into four sections: North, South, East, and Runner. Yes, you were reading the sign correctly, Runner. Not ‘West’. Runner. 

The signpost in front of you did not appear to be missing a posting. 

Hyunjin walked up behind you, took one look at your face, and let out a cocky huff of a laugh.

“I can tell what you are thinking. No, it is not a misprint. And no, I do not know why there is no West Miroh.”

Your eyes don’t leave the post in front of you. “It does not make any sense.”

“I tend to agree with you, but I try to pay attention to more important topics.” his words definitely had a bit of snark to them. 

You roll your eyes and look up at the mage, who is looking down at you with a bored expression. 

In reality, you are not a short woman by any means, especially with your Elven blood. But there must be something in the water here. Everyone towers over you easily, Changbin was the closest in height to you, but his head still stood a solid inch or two above yours.

Hyunjin looked away from you after a long scan of your face to turn on his heel and walk in a direction towards a less crowded street.

If you read the sign correctly, he’s heading in the direction of South Miroh.

“Are we staying in the capital?” you ask, jogging up behind him.

“You think it takes an entire day to go to a merchant within the capital walls?”

You scoff at him and roll your eyes.

Hyunjin says nothing more, he just continues to lead you throughout the stone capital. He tends to avoid crowded streets, opting for more bare alleys. These paths were so quiet, you could hear the water drops from the gutters of buildings hit the puddles below.

In the distance you can hear the citizens of Miroh talking, laughing, bartering with merchants. On more than one occasion, you heard a dog barking. 

It was more life than you ever heard in Erbus’ capital.

There was singing, yes, but it was contained to taverns and inns. The market was always filled with people, but the bartering was more harsh, more insults were thrown than prices.

Several smells hit your nose, even from far away. Fresh cooked meats and herbs waft through the air, making your mouth water.

You can help but wish you were in the midst of the town rather than taking the long way around the hustle and bustle of Miroh’s lively center. 

“Will you pick it up?” Hyunjin remarks and you roll your eyes again. By the time you return to the keep, your eyes might have rolled out of your head.  ----------------------------------------------

You were walking for about two hours after you left the walls of the capital. The cobblestone streets are lined with lamp posts and signs to guide your way. 

Not that Hyunjin seemed to need any of them. His steps are so sure and confident, not once have you seen him second guess a fork in the path. He’s most likely made this trip more times than you can count.

Neither of you have said a word to one another since he told you to hurry up. The silence wasn’t comfortable, nor was it uncomfortable, it was simply just something occurring. 

You pass by about two villages along the open fields of Miroh before you turn down a more offbeat path from the stone street. It led up to a rather steep looking cliff face. If you squinted, you could see what looked like a door carved into the rock.

“We’re here.” Hyunjin simply said. 

You don’t respond, you only walk after him.

The two of you are about ten feet away from the door when Hyunjin suddenly turns and looks down at you.

“Camus’ temper is quite awful,” he warns, “I do suggest you keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.”

Every sarcastic retort died on the tip of your tongue, it just wasn’t worth the battle with him. Plus, the look on his face was rather pleading. Gone was the arrogant, bored look to his face. 

“Whatever you say, Hyunjin.”

Content with your answer, Hyunjin turns around and walks up to the door. He leans in and tugs on a string that seems to be attached to a rock outside and then threaded through a chiseled hole in the cliff face and inside.

A bell rings on the inside of the door as soon as Hyunjins fingers pull it.

‘Clever.’ you admit in your head.

The sound of several locks comes from the door and a slot opens to reveal a set of piercing gold eyes. They lock on Hyunjin first, then you, then back to Hyunjin, to you again, and then once more back to Hyunjin.

“What?’ a voice asks.

“It is time for our bi-monthly exchange, Camus.” Hyunjin puts on a rather gentle, yet fake sounding, voice.

The eyes narrow and stare at Hyunjin for a long moment before the slot slides closed and several more locks sound like they’re being undone. 

The sheer amount of contraptions that it sounds like he’s undoing is enough to let a small giggle fall from your lips. Hyunjin whips his head around to glare at you.

You jump a bit and bite your lip to keep the laughter in just as the door swings open.

A taller man with golden skin opens the door and waves you both to come in. When his head turns to the side, you see the sharp pointed ears. Two High Elves in one day, it must be your lucky day.

Hyunjin walks towards the door and you follow, Camus immediately closes it behind you. He then slides several of the locks back in place, but most definitely not all of them. 

An immediate smell of decay assaults your nose and your face pulls into a disgusted sneer before you can even think twice about it.

Elves are usually so sanitary, what in the world was that smell?

Camus’ golden eyes snap towards you so fast it sends your blood cold. “Does something displease you about my home, woman?” Hyunjin looks over at you, his eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Nay,” you shake your head quickly, “I believe a bug may have followed me inside, that is all. I apologize.” You bow your head a little in an apology.

Camus stares at you for a long moment before turning and walking further into his underground home. A small sigh of relief leaves your chest, and you’re pretty sure you hear Hyunjin exhale as well.

Inside the cave it’s so dingy and moist; it’s everything you thought what Hyunjin’s work room would look like. If your nose is correct, rotting food fills the barrels along the walls, mold and mildew growing in the corners.

Was he attempting to grow something? Mushrooms were used in many different potions, but he could at least invest in a small shed to put outside. 

There’s one large room and then a doorway towards the back that leads to another. You’re not sure where that doorway leads, but Camus makes no move to go towards it, instead, he walks to the side of the room and behind a countertop.

“And what did you come for this time, court wizard?” it’s now that you notice his thick Elvish accent. 

Hearing his voice brings back so many memories of your father reading you bedtime stories. His voice was always so thick with the Elvish accent that you’re not sure if anyone ever understood him besides you and your mother.

“The usual supplies. Do you have any greenwood bark this time around?”

“Nay, not the season for it.”

“Bah,” Hyunjin curses under his breath and thinks for a moment, “Orange Day-Blossom stem?”

“Are you working on a new fire spell?”

“Aye, and I cannot get it to land physical impact damage, only temperature. I’m wondering if I possibly chew on the stem beforehand that I could possibly increase my pressure threshold in my palm.”

Camus’ eyebrows raise and he ponders Hyunjin’s statement for a long moment, “The blossom stem may help, but so could using a granite stone.”

“Any enchantment on the crystal?”

“None.”

“I will have to try that as well.”

Their magical jargon begins to fly over your head. You tried to keep up at first, but after a while it started to go in one ear and out the other. Perhaps if you had been able to study magic from a younger age, you would’ve been able to follow their conversation.

But you can’t.

Your eyes begin to wander around the underground room. Chests and barrels are the main pieces of furniture, a few shelves with various bowls and jars on them. 

One of the tables to your left against the wall has several weapons on top. You can just tell they have strong enchantments on them. One particular shield is emanating a soft blue glow. 

A small bedroll lies in the corner, about ten different journals all stacked up on the side nearest to the wall. Everything in your body wants to walk around and peek at the ingredients this seller has, but Hyunjin’s warning keeps your feet glued to your place on the floor.

“They were only five gold a piece last we met.” Hyunjin’s voice soured.

“Pardon me, I did not realize you were also a merchant in charge of the harvest of specialized goods. The rate has gone up.” Camus responds with an equal level of anger. 

Uh oh.

Two wooden chairs sat on either side of a wooden table to your right. There was a metal stein on top accompanied by a half-empty plate. It looks like your arrival interrupted a meal. 

When you look up, you see that Camus had his entire focus on Hyunjin. Slowly, you step closer to the table. 

“The rate has gone up-“ Hyunjin sputters, “That is four times the previous amount! I could get this in the capital.”

“Then get it there, Hwang.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders tense, his jaw muscles clench and unclench. His voice dips to a low octave. “I have told you not to call me that.”

Your hand reaches out slowly, the metal stein sliding along your fingertips. 

“And I have told you not to question my prices. Or have you forgotten and become daft? Time with humans can do that.” Camus’ voice dropped to a dangerous tone. 

Every danger sense in your body was going off. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the stein. 

Camus seems to have forgotten you were in the room completely. He leans over the counter towards Hyunjin, who doesn’t flinch or move away.

“Do I need to remind you who you’re dealing with?” Camus leans in further to Hyunjin. 

Everything happened at once. 

Camus reached up as fast as he could to grab the back of Hyunjin’s head and slam it down against the top of the counter. 

You launched the metal tankard at his hard as you could. 

The twang of the metal hitting his skull would’ve been comical in any other circumstance. 

Camus’ head recoils back and he releases Hyunjin’s head to grab at his own. Hyunjin stands up quickly and backpedals away from the counter at the same time you lunge forward. 

Both of your hands plant on the counter and you vault yourself over it, sending a nice, hard kick into Camus' chest to knock him over. 

A grunt and a growl leaves his throat. 

Camus recovers quickly, he grabs your ankle with a surprisingly strong grip and swings your body like it’s no more than a rag doll. 

You’re suddenly flying through the air and hitting a rather solid surface that yelps and cushions your shared collision into the wall.

All of the air is forced from your lungs on impact. 

Two warm arms are wrapped tightly around your waist when you hit the floor. 

It takes a second for you to get your bearings. Camus threw you into the wall that the table of weapons was against. All of the enchanted items were scattered over the floor. 

When you look up, Camus is moving his hands in the air. All of the light from the candles in the room fly towards his right palm like moths to a flame. 

Your eyes widen and a feeling of panic rips through you. 

A pained moan comes from behind you and you immediately register that it’s Hyunjin, his arms are loosely draped around your waist still. 

From his groan, it sounds like his head is still in the clouds from the impact into the wall. 

Camus’ hand pulls back to strike. 

As if acting on their own, your hands quickly reach over and grab the shield you spotted earlier. The straps fit around your forearm snugly.

Just in the nick of time, you bring the shield up and cover both you and Hyunjin. An enormous wave of heat washes over the two of you. 

The blast that hits the shield pushes you back and your arms scream in exertion. It feels like you’re standing under a waterfall of fire with the constant pushing. 

A low scream tears from your lips as it's taking every ounce of effort to not give into the push. Sweat drips all the way down your neck and forehead. 

One of the arms around your waist moves and there’s a slight pressure at your back between your shoulder blades.  

It feels like the blast lasts forever but in reality, it's only for a few seconds. 

There’s a split second of reprieve where Camus brings his hands around to prepare for another attack. 

With this miraculous opening, you spin around on your knees and create a discus like momentum to fling the shield at him. 

“No-!” Hyunjin’s voice is cut short. 

As soon as the shield makes contact with Camus, an explosion is heard. 

In slow motion, Hyunjin’s hand grabs the back of your tunic and yanks you back onto the ground. Your back hits the dirt and immediately his body comes on top of yours and straddles you completely, his head tucked into your neck to shield his own face. 

A slight purple glimmer covers the two of you and as if you’re watching behind a window, you see a shockwave of fire and smoke blow around. 

He must be putting up a ward to shield you both from the blast. 

Hyunjin begins panting against your neck, you can feel every exhale against your skin clear as day. Each breath is hot and long. It must be taking so much strength to keep a ward of this size up. 

His muscles straining, Hyunjin’s hands flex and unflex at the sides of your head, all of his weight resting on his elbows. His body begins to tremble. You can feel most of it pressed against you. The heat from his body permeates through your light armor. 

With this ward up, even sound isn’t penetrating through. In your ear, each exhale from Hyunjin’s mouth goes right into your ear. Your entire body shivers. 

After a few seconds, it’s just smoke that fills the room outside the ward. The glimmer fades as Hyunjin drops the ward. 

“Shield of absorption,” Hyunjin pants into the crook of your neck. When his lips move, they slide over your skin. “Whatever attack it absorbs, it can unleash back.”

“Impressive.” Your voice wavers and almost cracks. 

He needs to get off you. Now.

“I had the situation handled.” 

With how weak his voice is, you don’t think so. 

“I’ll remember that next time I watch your skull smack into a countertop.”

“You did not give me a chance.”

“You did not need one, I was sent here to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Then why did I come?”

Hyunjin finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck and looks down at you. It’s not until now that you notice he has dark red eyes, they would look brown if you were any further away. 

“And here I thought you might enjoy spending time with another Elf.”

As if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head, your body tenses. Your heart begins beating uncontrollably and your eyes widen. 

“I am not… I do not know of what you speak of.”

Instead of answering, Hyunjin moves his hands closer to the sides of your head. 

In symmetric movements, he runs his finger tips up the length of your ears, pausing just below the tip. 

Electricity shoots down your neck and into your chest, all the way down to your toes, which curl in your boots. A tingling sensation blossoms in your head and you feel it on the roof of your mouth. 

A shiver wracks your body at the feeling. In a complete contrast from the ice water feeling, now it’s as if your body was dropped into a volcano. 

Everyone knows how sensitive an Elf’s ears are. Especially another Elf. 

Involuntarily, your eyelids come down and you bite your lip to stop a small noise from escaping your throat. It was a borderline whine that tried to come out. 

“As I thought.” He whispers down to you.

Reality washes over you and your eyes snap open. A snarl pulls at your lips and you shove him off of you. 

Hyunjin stares up at you with a cocky smirk while you brush the dirt off of your clothes. 

“You will say nothing.” You point down to him, your eyes hardened and serious. 

Hyunjin scoffs and crosses his arm, “You must be daft if you think they do not already know.”

You swallow nervously and look around, the smoke is beginning to settle. Camus was nowhere to be found. Maybe that giant soot spot on the ground is him. 

“They do not know, they will not know.” You reach up and pull your hair down over your ears. 

“Why do you care if they know of your blood?” He prods.

Does he not now?

“Let it go, Hyunjin.”

“It is not-“

You cut him off, “Enough!” Your eyes are fierce and your skin feels alive. “You will not utter a word about this to anyone in Miroh. Do I make myself clear Hwang Hyunjin.” 

Now it’s his turn for his eyes to harden. His chin dips downwards and he looks up at you with a murderous glare. 

“I will wait for you outside. Gather whatever materials you can salvage.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shield sitting on the ground, completely unscathed. On your way to the door, you scoop it off the ground and take it with you.

[drbased]

Time for another major take-down

This is a Big One. I'm going to analyse I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out.

Part 1

Let's get into it. Firstly, the note at the start: I hate how it's become commonplace to write something online - a literal public space, accessible to anyone - and then when criticised immediately back-track and call it 'private' and 'a diary entry'. This applies to radfems on tumblr, or anyone tbh. If you want something to remain private, write it privately.

Correlation, meet causation.

Yeah, there's a reason the phrase 'correlation does not equal cause causation' exists. But this is the primary tool of human narrative-making and exactly why it is so easy for trans-identified people to discover past 'evidence' of their gender. Occam's razor is thrown out because the dull reality feels much less significant than the constructed narrative.

Ever the magical thinker, I tell myself that if I wish out loud one thousand times, I will wake up with long hair in cute pajamas with a different name — and maybe freckles.

One might consider it a minor nitpick, but here lies the primary issue: the gender essentialism that people internalise as children is not discarded as sexist nonsense, but instead the sunk-cost fallacy works its magic. Of course, the author might be using some flowery language to merely evoke the image of 'girl' in the reader's mind - but the mere fact that someone in this culture is able to communicate the exact concept of biological sex by referencing sexed roles/expectations shows just how ingrained these beliefs are in our society.

The next part, at eight years old, is especially sad. Causation and correlation definitely have a rocky relationship here. He describes getting on with mostly women. Something as basic as being friends with and admiring the females in his life is seen as 'proof' of his female identity. But of course, you're a transwoman in the closet. How many of these 'women' you like and admire, are actually women? You say you think divorced, tattooed, Catie's mum is cool - what if that person is actually a man? Or if that feels like a cheap argument, do you think that all these women especially like you, above all other 'boys' your age? Do you think they can tell?

When I ask to sleep over at my friends’ houses, I am told I am not allowed. Boys are not allowed. My friend Caitie’s mother argues about this on the phone with my mother. I realize my mother is not on my side.

No sarcasm here - I don't really get this bit. Did you mean to write that girls are not allowed? Because historically, parents are fine with boys having sleepovers together - it's typically cross-sex sleepovers that parents find an issue with, for all sorts of reasons. Not allowing sleepvers with other boys would be a concern of your mum specifically; nothing to do with gender. And speaking of your mum, your takeaway is that she's not on your side? What a strangely powerful conclusion to come to from one minor thing. Parents give their kids all sorts of weird and stupid rules. She might have her own reasons to not let you go to sleepovers - have you, say, asked her?

I love everything my sister loves, but I will not admit it. I know she and her friends will make fun of me. I know my parents will chastise me and correct me. I am learning the rules, and I am learning that boys liking girl things is a very high stakes issue. I am learning that adults react the same way to my interest in makeup as they do to my interest in matches and lighters.

Oh, you're learning the rules, are you? Did you ever want to un-learn them, maybe question them a bit, at least wonder for a second why the rules are that way? I once asked a trans person in DMs if they'd wondered why certain gendered expectations exist, and they responded 'to be honest, I hadn't really thought about it'. Remember, trans people are supposed to know more about gender than cis people. I've known trans people IRL to obsess over the details of their passing with zero questioning of the status quo. The fact that we're supposed to consider this rhetoric to be truly radical is telling.

As if maybe, by being what I am, I might burn down something very important to them. Something that makes their life more comfortable and easy.

The reason that following gender expectations makes life comfortable and easy for 'cis women' is exactly the same as it is for you: because it means that they don't have to feel angry at the world, that they can accept that everything they learned during childhood is natural and healthy and they don't have to hate their parents, peers and other adults for demanding certain things of them, and now as adults they retain certain 'perks' for conforming. You're only fractionally better because you're rejecting one set of expectations in favour of another - but in another way you're a whole lot worse because you're literally a member of the oppressor class wearing the costume of the oppressed class and thinking that makes you privy to their experiences. You're the one with a privilege so important to you that women's freedom and liberation would burn it down.

I am jealous of my sister’s clothing. One day, home alone after school, I sneak into her room and pull on her Tinkerbell Halloween costume. I slip the elastic straps over my shoulders, then the tights along my legs. It fits.

Ah, the classic. The charitable version of me acknowledges that many trans people have been perfectly willing to admit (especially pre 2016) that they're dysphoric over sex and will accept these surface-level associations purely to help them relieve dysphoria. And I understand that. But this man claimed at the start that correlation = causation, here. And you cannot tell me that everyone who has read this will be thinking as deeply as I am - many people are fully happy to admit that this has nothing to do with sex and entirely to do with gender i.e. gendered roles and expectations. To many people, that Tinkerbell costume is synonymous with 'female'. It makes you wonder why we decided to say that vaginas are female sex organs at all, if gender can be summed up with long hair and cute pyjamas.

[disillusionedjudge]

What would Gylfie do if Cael wanted kids one day? IIRC you said she 1. has a phobia of being pregnant 2. was parentified when Telina was born, so she wouldn't want to adopt either 3. doesn't like being around kids even though she's good with them as a result of raising Telina 4. doesn't want her identity to revolve around being a mother 5. still wouldn't want kids even if she wasn't parentified/didn't have tokophobia. Maybe Cael doesn't want kids, IDK. But what would Gylfie do if he did?

@tarnishedxknight

((so, yes to all of the above! I did say those things! And I do actually mean to revisit it, because I want to dive into more detail about Gylfie surrounding her thoughts/feelings about pregnancy/childbirth/motherhood, so... one day, heh. But, yes, she has tokophobia, which was something she always had but was made worse by her mother's pregnancy with Telina. Alsga had been incredibly sick her pregnancy had been high-risk, and... Gylfie was her primary caretaker during that time. Takrin took care of Alsga whenever he could, but considering he's Judge Magister of the Trade and Commerce Bureau, he was incredibly busy and often had to travel, so... someone had to step in for him when he was away, as much as he hated being away from his wife. Silas was never asked to take care of Alsga, however, because he was a boy and Takrin wanted his son to be able to experience the joys of childhood, but... Gylfie was exempt because she was a girl, and Takrin, although pretended to love her for Alsga's sake, didn't care about whether or not she experienced the same joys Silas did. Plus... Gylfie would've taken care of her mother anyway because she loved her, but she was constantly stressed out during that time, and the idea of going through that herself when she was older was terrifying. Her dislike and mild fear of pregnancy morphed into something far worse, and although it... more or less mellowed as she grew older and gained a better understanding that what her mother experienced was not normal (and something Alsga didn't experience when pregnant with Gylfie, though her pregnancy with Silas was rough, just not to that degree), it's something that will never go away or change enough for her to be willing to go through it.

And, as she was expected to take care of her mother, she was indeed parentified and expected to take care of Telina as, basically, a third parent, because Takrin and Alsga wanted her to gain experience for the day she would become a mother herself. Which... further put her off from wanting to become a mother, heh. Did it help her learn how to handle children and how to be a good parental figure? Yes! In fact, I realized that, not only would Gylfie mother Larsa at times, but she'd also mother Vaan and Penelo in the au she joins Ashe & Co, heh. But, in general, she's honestly great with kids! Mainly with toddlers and older, but she's good with infants/babies as well! Honestly, Gylfie is just... more wine-aunt material than anything else, lol. She'll occasionally babysit depending on who it is (like, for example, Drace and Gabranth, since Silence has that au for their mcu verse, heh) once she knows she's not going to be dragged into playing third parent again, but that's about her extent for childcare. She wants to be able to disconnect herself from children and doesn't want the 24/7, 365 responsibility that would come with being a mother, and, also like you mentioned, she doesn't want her identity to revolve around motherhood. She wants to be her own person, not only a mother. So, tokophobia and parentification aside, motherhood is straight up something Gylfie can't personally get behind. She knows she's good with kids, knows she can be a mother if needed, but... that's not who she is. Plus... she knows not everyone should be a parent, and she very much so feels like she's one of those people. The things she's done... she feels could never make her a good mother, regardless of how she feels about motherhood.

Rambling aside and actually getting to your question, heh, Gylfie would make it abundantly clear to Caelen early in their relationship that she doesn't want kids. Ever. She knows how important becoming a parent is to some people, and so she needs to make sure Caelen fully understands she will never change her mind, that having/adopting kids is and forever will be off the table, and her extent of childcare is babysitting for loved ones. If he wants to be with her, he needs to understand and accept that, and he can't later ask her to change her mind because she won't. It's not something she shies away from, but it's also not something she's going to hold against him. If he wanted to be a father, she would never fault him for that or try and change his mind, because it wouldn't be fair of her and she respects him the same way he respects her, and... she would reluctantly end things with him. She loves him, she really does, but she wants him to be happy. I know Silence said Caelen would be willing to give up the idea of having his own children, whether biologically or through adoption, because the idea is a want versus a need, so it's not something Gylfie has to worry about, heh, but she would want him to be with someone who can give him what he wants, rather than stay with her and feel unfulfilled and/or miserable. It doesn't matter how much losing him would hurt her, she would rather be him happy than give up his dream of being a father, but won't hurt herself by forcing herself to become a mother just to stay with him, either.

[ickybby]

idk how i wrote this much about one oc but here we go. some character arc development b4 i update the bio?

seree's indebted to the city of angels from birth; catapulted into the limelight when her entrance into this world is broadcast via her parent's dying reality show. seree steps further into the spotlight at the age of four; landing a coveted role on a tv show produced by one of the industry's largest entertainment networks. she became a household name overnight, stealing the hearts of millions with her performances in family-friendly movies and tv shows with the charming personality displayed on screen. as seree grew older, the pressures of fame began to take their toll. she's close to surpassing her father as the primary earner, an impressive feat considering most people can't even conceptualize the amount of wealth the rhani family hoards even before they decide to pimp out their youngest for more money. seree's caught in the hollywood machine; it's not long before she strays from the innocent character expertly crafted for her before seree can even develop her own personality. the transition from child star to teen sensation is a rocky one. that era of seree's life is marred by rebellious behavior, scandalous headlines, and obscene displays of wealth. after she loses her spot on her children's tv show, seree's mother uses her connections as a former high fashion model to give her daughter a leg up in the notorious industry. there's little shame in capitalizing on a common ideology amongst the celebrity elite; there's no such thing as bad press. soon, seree's once-promising film career began to unravel, embroiled in one controversy after another. form wild parties, to public meltdowns, her name becomes synonymous with tabloid fodder and paparazzi snapshots. as seree's star dims in the entertainment world, she finds herself at a crossroads. tired of the constant scrutiny and craving something beyond the glitz and toxic glamour of hollywood, she secretly is grateful when she gets to leave that behind. even if it's because her father threatens to cut off access to her trust fund unless she leaves the limelight long enough to get a college degree. shocking the general public, seree rhani disappears from the spotlight practically overnight. gone are the pieces of designer wear and catwalks. in a bout of determination to reclaim her life and find fulfillment outside of the spotlight, seree embarks on a path of healing, rebuilding her identity, and finding fulfillment. her journey leads her to a place completely unexpected to everyone around her; no one is more shocked than seree to discover her affinity and adoration of biology. specifically, the diversity in aquatic ecosystems. facing the scrutiny of the unforgiving public's perception of her and misogynistic ideas about her seeming so out of place in her newfound field, seree trades in the title of glorified influencer for muck boots and rubber flippers as she dives headfirst into the world of marine biology and ocean conservation. surprising everyone, including herself, she immerses herself in studying marine life, finding solace and purpose in the ocean's depths or a research laboratory. far from the flashing lights of l.a or her family's expectations, seree experiences a newfound sense of joy, even in the grittiest moments of her work. with each dive into azure waters, she finds an unfamiliar sense of peace that eluded her for so long. her past as a child actor and scandalous model still lingers in the minds of many. there would always be some journalist or everyday internet troll digging up old pictures or clips of her at her worst. seree refuses to let her messy past or strangers define her. there's more to fascinate and challenge her while embracing those newfound passions with fierce determination, inadvertently proving to herself and the world that there was always more to her than meets the eye. seree rhani finds redemption from the troubles of her former life and the shadows cast by past scandals in the depths of the sea. amidst crushing depths, the whispers and invasive questions about her past are swiftly drowned out

[the-starry-seas]

I made a bunch of Mandos

This is a Mandalorian clan living on a forested Outer Rim planet. They were one of many clans that went underground during yet another anti-Mando purge, and decided to largely settle into the life they had, instead of rejoining the galaxy at large. They work as bounty hunters, bodyguards, mercenaries, and transport to support themselves, their ottaburas, and their increasing number of foundlings.

About ten years after they settle in, it's a massive surprise to them when a clan of clones settle on the planet nearby. They're not entirely sure what to think about that but eventually they reach out to the clones to see what they're doing there. An alliance ends up forming, to the benefit of both groups. After establishing a good working relationship, the Mandalorians gift the clones some ottaburas and teach them how to care for them.

From there, there is, shall we say, intermingling. Marriages happen, kids happen, and half of them forget that they weren't always one big dramatic mostly-happy family.

Aelia, Nautolan, mid-twenties, 5'9", she/her. She's fourth-generation Mandalorian and rather proud of it. She doesn't wear a helmet as she finds it too difficult to make it work with her head shape, and instead uses a personal force field-type shield. She's the head of security for her clan. She also prefers melee weapons to blasters. She's a tattooist and artist who knows everything there is to know about the flora and fauna of the local forests.

Azur, OC aquatic alien species, sixteen, 18'4", it/its. It was found by its clan as a baby, who chose their planet to settle on because it had deep lakes with plenty of room for it to grow. It rarely leaves the lakes near the clan's home, but is the first line of defence when a stranger shows up. Nobody expects the lake creature. As the only known one of its kind, the many identical clones fascinate it endlessly.

Coberra, half Zabrak half human, late thirties, 5'6", she/her. She inherited her mother's Nightsister potential, and when she was a child, her parents returned to Dathomir so she could be taught to harness that power. She decided to leave Dathomir shortly after her twentieth birthday to test her knowledge and fighting prowess against the rest of the galaxy. The first Mandalorian she met adopted her on sight, and she's been with Droma since.

Droma, human, sixty-eight, 5'10", he/him. He was born and raised on Concord Dawn. In his mid-twenties he started a bount-hunting team with his brother Nīkora and lifelong best friend Trace. They regularly returned to Concord Dawn until his parents died and Trace's moved to Ryloth. After that, his visits became more infrequent, until his new home became his permanent one. When the loose group of Mandos started talking about becoming a clan, they made him their leader.

Flea, human, twenty-two, 5'34", she/her. A street thief at the young age of seven, she tried to pickpocket a Mandalorian just to prove she could, and promptly got adopted when they realised what she was up to. She's hyperactive, a bit socially unaware, and simply can't be made to stop biting. She loves her new family - they're the only ones she's ever had - and takes the Resol'nare and other Mando traditions very seriously. Being called mandokarla is her primary goal in life.

Fleck, OC alien species, early twenties, 6'8", she/her. Despite all her skill in mercenary work, her true passion is flowers. It's not unusual to find her wearing a flower crown or boutonniere, or even occasionally carrying around a pot with some rare bloom that she's coaxing to grow. Her helmet is specially fitted around her horns. Its visor also has a special overlay to chart the locations of all local electrical fields, which are uniquely damaging to her species' physiology.

Hiwa, human, mid thirties, 5'6", she/her. Another Concord Dawn native, she was passing through and immediately paused her plans when she heard a familiar accent. What was originally intended as a temporary stay turned into joining the clan. Lately most of her time has been dedicated to courting that pretty little seamstress that just started working at a local dress shop.

John, anthro wolf, late forties, 6'2", he/him. He's a simple guy who likes to bite things and eat spicy foods, and honestly that makes him little different from any other Mando. As long as he keeps cleaning his fur out of the showers, everything's good. (But dude, seriously, how do you shed so much?) He's the de facto youngling guardian, as they can't get enough of his sleight of hand skills, and he's a total pushover who's always willing to learn their newest games and tricks.

Ming, human, nineteen, 5'1", she/her. She's half Chinese, has vitiligo, and trains the clan's massiffs (used for guarding, search and rescue scent work, and occasionally as extra help on bounty hunts). Due to her health impairments, her mother likes her to stay close to home, and is doing her best to not be too worried when Ming wanders off into the woods for hours to listen to the birds. She's able to mostly mitigate her thyoid disease and psoriasis symptoms with medication, but the anxiety is harder to deal with.

Nīkora, human, sixty-three, 5'9", he/him. Even at this stage in his life, it's his sworn duty to annoy the shit out of Droma whenever possible. He's also a grandfather to every kid he sees, even if they're not even vaguely related to him. He experiments in the kitchen a lot and he is fortunately much better than he was at twenty. He fishes for his own food but has never really gotten the hang of foraging. All the plants that look just like edible ones but are actually poisonous, worry him.

Paloma, human, early thirties, 5'5", she/her. She's a cheerful prank queen and fashionista who's also a gifted painter. She paints on all her jackets and colour-coordinates her outfits and hijabs. She also spends a lot of time in the garden with Fleck, as she finds it to be the most peaceful place on the planet. The butterflies there are one of her favourite things.

Rahua, OC alien species, early thirties, 5'9", she/they. Considered an ice queen by most strangers who meet her, though her clan sees a very different side of her. She's socially awkward a lot of the time but she loves them dearly, albeit clumsily at times. Her hearing and night vision are second to none, and she takes the night watch when that's needed. She also spends a lot of time at the lake with Azur and has become a very good diver. She/her to clan, they/them to outsiders.

Splendid, human, twenty-eight, 5'9", she/her. She likes bright colours and soft music, and borrowing plants from Fleck for a couple days at a time to brighten up her quarters (without having to actually keep the plant alive longterm). She's the most headstrong person in the clan. All her opinions are fiercely held and will be fiercely debated if anyone questions them. It can make her abrasive sometimes but she's pretty good at reining herself in when someone says she's going too far.

Storm, human, fifty-four, 5'8", he/him. The stars on his face are tattoos, each one representing a lost friend. He feels things deeply and is a very quiet individual by nature. He doesn't say much, but when he does, everyone listens to him. Life has taught him a lot, much of it unkind. Cruelty is familiar to him, and undesirable. Much more gentle than outsiders expect from a Mandalorian, but he doesn't regret it even when it turns out to cause problems for him.

Thiziri, human, thirty-six, 5'6", she/her. Breaking her back as a teen changed her life drastically, and it took a while for her to figure out how to move forward. The support of her clan was invaluable to her in moving forward and switching paths to become a mechanic and metal sculptor. Most large-scale repairs are carried out by people she oversees, but she manages to do a lot in her workshop. Along the way she also learned to crochet, and spends some of her downtime expanding her collection of button-eyed plushies.

Trace, Twi'lek, sixty-two, 5'8", she/her. She likes both her jobs and her cocktails to be quick and dirty. She also reads extensively, has an AO3 account that absolutely nobody is allowed to know about, and is an exceptional astronomer. Her ability to cause trobule is unparalleled but she never starts shit with the clan younglings. They're all hers as far as she's concerned, and she will cut a bitch for looking at them wrong.

Trick, ???, ???, 8'0", they/them. Their powers are vast and varied, and the rules about using them are unclear - or they just don't care to help sometimes because they find it more fun to fuck around (and not find out). When they want to help, there's no better ally, but their inconsistent willingness to use that power has resulted in everyone wanting to throttle them at some point. They're a trickster first and foremost, and enjoy messing with the things that should most be left alone. Although they aren't Mandalorian, as they haven't sworn the Creed and don't wear armour, they refer to their clan as family, and vice versa; nobody would consider getting rid of them because they are a valued member of the clan... and because it's impossible to do so. They're a semiaquatic species and spend a lot of time in the lake or the local cave system's subterranean river system.

Twig, OC alien species, twenty-six, 4'8", ze/zir. A polite young person that nobody thought would make a good Mando, until ze showed a surprising disposition toward aggressiveness when angered, and the clan decided they better teach the kid how to control that. Ze still has anger issues but has also made a lot of progress in controling zirself when necessary. (Though ze doesn't always agree with their definition of 'necessary'.)

Vanni, Zeltron, thirty-five, 5'10", she/her. There's nobody better at bullshitting or seducing her way into (or out of) trouble. While her clan has a rule that she doesn't use her pheromones on them, outsiders are fair game. Everything in life is simply entertainment to her, and there's very little that she takes seriously, apart from work. She loves freely and often, and has no time for those who try to pin her down. She's adopted three kids but has no intention of having any biologically.

Zhihao, human, thirty-eight, 5'2", she/her. When she got pregnant at nineteen, her parents disowned her, and she tried to find some way to survive on her own. The Mandalorians took her in, even though she wasn't much of a warrior at the time, and supported her in the way a family should. She stayed with them, trained with them, and swore the Creed at twenty-four. She's partially deaf and wears hearing aids. She's also Ming's mother!

[mourningcandles]

I was reading through my unfinished fics again and now, for the hundredth time, I am obsessed with the AU where Peters' daughter returns. This time, it's mostly because that AU offers a look into who Citizen Peters was in the role of a mother and what that role meant to them.

As an orphanage benefactor, as a philanthropist, Peters does their best to be egalitarian. They don't play favorites. That simply would not be proper. They are doting, yes, but they do not raise the orphans as their own.

But they would be shamelessly sweet to their daughter, their firstborn child. They would almost dare to damn the Cause for her. All revolutionary aspirations cast aside in favor of a child of six (give or take), a slip of a thing who would have only just started primary school, if she left the house at all for her education.

Seeing Peters in that role again, so terribly protective and doting to the point of excess, it starts to become clear how they had an inclination towards bloody revenge in the first place. This child was illegitimate and unwanted. The trauma and fear upon which their relationship with their daughter was founded rendered any feelings within it extreme by default. Their life was simply that precarious, resting upon the assumed identity of Idris Peters, a loving father who could support a small family with a man's wages.

They hadn't played the role of mother since the girl was a toddler.

And so the first thing they do once they have brought their daughter back to life in the dead of night through bloody and arcane ritual is give their daughter a bath, as if she were still a toddler.

They drew her a bath just as her mother did when she was ever so small. The water was delightfully warm as she let those faintly familiar hands scour her clean, washing away the sticky sweet cider that coated her skin. ”Oh Iris, darling,” they said tenderly, “Look what a mess I've made of you.” Iris was seven years old, a few years too old for such treatment, but she was so very tired. As they worked they sang her little nonsense songs which made her head nod. She knew the words, but the voice which sang them was lost to her. Could this be her mother? They buttoned up her nightgown and carried her to bed, not letting her bare feet touch the cold, cold floor. Surely, this must be a mother's love. Iris was seven years and seven days old, and this stranger seemed to be her mother.

Peters isn't a particularly good parent. They're a decent person, arguably, but that doesn't mean they're a good parent. They're good with children, even, but that doesn't make them a good parent. There are simply some things about their life which have led them to be too much: too clingy, too overbearing, too erratic to be a reliable parental figure. They don't interact with their daughter in age-appropriate ways. They don't have realistic expectations for how their future might pan out. They can't accept change. They don't even react to their own emotions very well, given the whole revenge quest.

Good intentions do not make good parenting. Epic levels of devotion do not make good parenting. Even love, at times, cannot make a person into the parent a child needs.

And that's why Peters didn't have a second kid, lol. Another kid? While in the Royal Beth? Hellllll no. Save that for after the therapy bills are settled.

[the-world-of-ignavus]

Moggi of the Storm (Embers) - Lieutenant Mottledstrike

Name: Mottledstrike

Other Names: Splotch (cub), Mottle (cub, cadet)

Meaning: Many Colors (Mottled-), Fierce (-strike)

Age: 4 moonspans and 5 moons | 4 years and 5 months

Identity: FtM Tom - He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual | Hierarchical Polyamorous

Rank: Lieutenant

Former Rank(s): Hunt General

A medium furred and thick coated cherry and white tom with yellow eyes and cherry toes. His spotting is a bit more uniform than one would expect; mirrored on either side of his flanks. He has white bands around his ankles and, unlike most of his faction, is mostly clear of scars. He often jokes he has the greatest healing factor in the Stormborn though his sister insists that it’s because of his thick fur and ‘harmless’ appearance making other legions mistake him for a baby bird. Mottledstrike is fairly average sized for his faction; with a slender-frame hidden beneath a wall of fur and quills.

Twin to Speckledholly, Mottledstrike was born to his parents Marestrike and Bullsnakestrike as the sickly runt of their litter as merely ‘Mottle’. Everyone there agrees that he had no real illness - not a cold or serious cough - but rather, he was simply very weak. He had trouble breathing for the entire first moon of his life, and was always a little off-kilter for a few moons after. It resulted in his promotion being delayed by one moon until Silverdream would give the sign-off that he could be safely trained.

Assigned to train under Kodiaktail, Mottle hit the ground running in a furious attempt to catch up with his prodigy of a sister. Though they were close and Speckle never gloated or boasted, he felt like he was always pushing himself to keep up with her natural talent. He struggled with managing his jealousy towards his for the first couple moons of training and though she doesn't blame him, Mottledstrike occasionally looks back at his younger self with embarrassed annoyance.

A solo-patrol on the far side of Stormborn territory one dawn would change his life when he runs into a young mother trying to defend her cub against incredibly persistent bandits. Though eventually the criminals had been warded off, the damage had been done and Mottledstrike found himself returning to the Storm-Barracks with a 3 moon old cub while insisting someone retrieve the mother's body. It's no wonder that little Coyote refuses to leave his side for the first moon of her new life, frightened and missing her mother terribly.

He was so incredibly proud when she decided she wanted to stay and be trained as a legionary, eventually taking after him and becoming a hunter. Though she wasn't his cadet, he made sure to bring her on a tour of the territory and show her the place where he buried her mother. He hopes that wherever nomads go in the afterlife, Tern is happy with how he raised her daughter.

Mottledstrike had begun to form a budding romance with Saberslash, the older tom seemingly impressed by his command on a battlefield and his power. Though Aspenwind teases him, he also strongly encourages his interest in the russet tom; insisting that 'branching out' will further teach him what he does and doesn't like.

Mottledstrike is an easily embarrassed and hardworking moggi who respects the work anyone puts in. He tries to strike that balance between being a stern lieutenant and stopping others from following in His Storm's pawsteps. He was promoted for his empathy, and he tries to ensure that he never loses it.

Drillmaster(s): Kodiaktail

Cadet(s): Chikadeechitter, Flycatcher

Parents: Marestrike (mother|deceased), Bullsnakestrike (father|deceased)

Sweetparent(s): N/A

Auncle(s): N/A

Sibling(s): Speckledholly (twin sister), Garterpounce (sister|deceased)

Nephling(s): N/A

Cousin(s): N/A

Mate(s): Aspenwind (primary)

Crush(es): Saberslash

OoC Friends: N/A

Cub(s): Coyote (daughter)

Grandcub(s): N/A

Other Notes:

Coyote asked Mottledstrike to formally adopt her under the eyes of Sweetsoul almost immediately after being assigned. Mottledstrike cried

For a very brief period he was known as Splotch (to go along with Speckle) before declaring that he was a tom - Marestrike obligingly changed his name to what he would've been called

He's younger than Asterdawn, but he frets over her constantly. He grew up with one bad thing after another happening to them and now, there are very few he trusts with her safety

[reesemitchell13]

Erik Erikson: Brief Biography + The Eight Stages of Development

Erik H. Erikson was born in Germany in 1902 and originally intended to persue a career in the arts. However, he would later persue a highly influential career in psychology, and seek training from insitutes such as the Maria Montessori School and the Human Relations center at Yale. His legacy would proceed him, as he is infamus for the theories stating that children are crafted by circumstances, societal expectations, and relationships, rather than just existing as beings with a preset biological blueprint (Erikson Insitute, 2023.)

One of his most recongized theories is known as The Eight States of Development which explores development throughout the entire lifespan — with emphasis of the forming of indentity (Pomerantz, 2022.)

These stages consist of:

Trust Vs. Mistrust

This stage occurs in infancy, typically spanning between zero and eighteen months. Infants, as expected, are unable to take care of themselves and must rely on a primary caregiver (usually the mother) to supply them the basic nessicities of living. Postivite experiances during this stage instill within the infant a sense of “hope” as they develop—or the ability to trust or rely on others. However, if negative experiences occur during this stage this instills the opposite—a sense of mistrust that can make them struggle to seek help in later years.

Autonmy vs. Shame + Doubt

This stage, still occuring in early years, centers around the question: “Can I control myself?” Young children as they begin to explore sensations and the people around them, also begin to discover a sense of autonmy. Encouraging this new desire for independence—however “small—influences the childs’ ability to suceed in independent tasks in the future, as well as how they percieve themselves and their skill set. If autonmy is encouraged by the caregiver, it encourages and stregthens a sense of autonmy. Subsequently, if autonomy is discouraged this can limit the development of skills and cause feelings of self-doubt.

Initative vs. Guilt

This stage occurs between the ages between the ages three and five and explores a child’s sense of power and enthusiam when attempting new tasks or embarking on social experiances. When a child is encouraged to embrace new tasks and experience success, they develop a strong sense of “initiative” — however, when they experience failure and receive critiscm, discouragement, or ridicule, they develop a strong sense of guilt. These feelings of guilt can discourage them from new experiances, and make them feel as though they are a “failure.”

Industry vs. Inferority

This stage occurs between the ages six and eleven and wrestles with the question: “Can I keep up with my peers?” This stage mainly explores personal feelings of compendance, as children will begin recieving scores, grades, and encouragement/discouragement from teachers. In summary, their skill-set will begin to become evaluated, and they will see themselves in relation to other peers. Without encouragement, assistence, or confidence boosting from surrounding adults, they will begin to develop an “inferior” mindset. The oppisite treatment with enforce feelings of “industry” or self-confidence.

Indentity vs. Role Confusion

This stage occurs between ages This stage occurs between the ages of twelve and eighteen and centers around the question: “Can I determine who I am?” An individual undergoing this stage of development might attempt different styles, socialize with a myriad of social groups, and experiment with various hobbies to cement a sense of “identity.” Identity, as well as a sense of “self-sameness” is extremely vital to one’s trajectory in life, and allows them to develop traits of personal uniqueness. However, if one struggles with personal feelings of belonging or sense of self, they may struggle to obtain a similar trajectory in life, and appear as though they are trying “lives on.”

Intimacy vs. Isolation

This stage occurs between the ages nineteen and forty and deals with the question: “Can I form a long lasting connection with another person?” Intimacy, a distinct sense of emotional and personal closeness with another individual strives to promote feelings of fulfillment, contentment, and success within one’s life. However, a lack of intimacy—and meaningful connections with another person—leads to feelings of distinct isolation, which can be the direct cause of depression, and other traits of personal turbulence.

Generativity vs. Stagnation

This stage occurs between the ages forty and sixty-five and centers around the question: “Can I contribute something valuable?” Individuals experiencing this stage of development intend to exert a sense of nurture, whether that manifests through parenthood, teacherhood, or mentoring. Additionally, one may strive to contribute something larger to society as a way of achieving their personal need of generativity. However, individuals experiencing stagnation struggle to place others’ outside of their own set of goals, and struggle to become involved in a community. Intense feelings of stagnation can further feelings of isolation, and harm the overall quality of life for those experiencing it.

Ego Integrity vs. Disrepair

This stage—the final stage of Erikson’s Eight Stages of Development—occurs in an individual’s final years of life and centers around the question: “Was my life well-lived?” Individuals experiencing a sense of ego integrity look back on their life experiences with fulfillment, and feel a great level of personal contentment. These feelings of internal peace may produce feelings of wisdom, which can benefit members of the younger generation. However, older individuals experiencing disrepair view their experiences with regret and remorse, which can burden them in their final years.

References

Cherry, K. (2022, August 3). Erikson’s Eight Stages of Development. Verywellmind.com.

Pomerantz, Andrew M. My Psychology. Available from: VitalSource Bookshelf, (3rd Edition). Macmillan Higher Education, 2022.

We will connect Erikson’s Eight Stages of Development to the film after a detailed synopsis of the plot.

[breathetender]

luther maynard && gender.

when luther was born as the son of sebastian and allison grant, their parents were delighted. it wasn't long before sebastian became concerned about the masculinity of their child, though. luther was always soft in a way that sebastian resented, considering he'd wanted a rough and tumble boy to teach baseball. luther was far more interested in playing chef than sports, asking to learn how to sew from their mother, getting the "girls'" toys in kid's meals at fast food joints, etc.

once grown enough to start considering their gender, luther initially chalked up these differences to just not wanting to be like sebastian. they do experience some version of masculinity, after all, and so their aversion to traditionally masculine activities must have been borne of their resentment for their father! but in high school, after sebastian has died and luther is free to breathe easier, they begin experimenting. zoe, their first girlfriend lets them borrow her pink clothes, puts lip gloss on them, calls them pretty, and it begins a slow, dawning realization.

for a long time, they keep their femininity close to their chest, hoping to keep it quiet, reserved for only those closest in their life. they're still soft in all the ways that sebastian hated. they gift their friends freshly baked loaves of bread, they're much more likely to buy something if it's pink, and they're sensitive and considerate in a way that sebastian would've trained out of his boy, if he'd had his way.

but in becoming more familiar with the queer community, no longer seeing it as just a potential outlet for sexual repression, they LEARN. they're able to observe the swings in their feelings, note the way their presentation and impulses vary, and begin exploring what identities feel right to them.

luther's presentation hasn't changed much since coming out as genderfluid in their late 20s. their general attire includes suits, sweaters, and t-shirts with jeans or slacks. they've grown more comfortable wearing jewelry and prefer gold jewelry over anything else, and they'll paint their nails on occasion. they're also prone to wearing more feminine underwear than a stranger may expect, favoring pink and lace and silk.

in terms of their physical transition: since recognizing their dysphoria, they've begun staying more clean shaven to manage it. they've also considered bottom surgery, but they're not at a point where their physical dysphoria outweighs the thought of undergoing such an intensive surgery. their primary source of bodily dysphoria comes from 1) their hair, 2) the sharp angles of their body, which has been mitigated somewhat with a change of workout routine, and 3) topping during sex. what started as a suspicion of being a SELFISH LOVER was recognized as a discomfort with using body parts that don't feel quite right most of the time. that being said, luther is genderfluid and there's times when they'll happily top but it's QUITE a rare occurrence.

(as an aside, as well— the above may change. to be frank, i would really like to write a luther who does not have to deal with that ever-present, quiet itch of dysphoria in the back of their mind. they deserve that much. but like i said, i don't think they're the type to trade their familiar, manageable discomfort for a daunting major surgery, which may have results that are beyond their control, potential complications, etc. it's a precious thing to me, to portray trans bodies realistically, contextually, and with complexities that don't fit so neatly into the established boxes that most media lays out for us. so i'll appreciate my writing partners' flexibility as the fine details of luther's transition may shift depending on verse. for example, in any verse set in the future or where magic exists, luther will have some semblance of bottom surgery since it can be assumed recovery is easier and results are more predictable.)

in terms of their social transition: if it's a verse where they're a correctional officer, they are NOT out at work since it would not feel safe for them to do so. but they're out in every other aspect of their life, including family and friends. luther's mother was accepting. she was baffled by the terminology at first, but then said "well... that makes sense." and henri was privy to the whole process of their gender realization so it came as no surprise to her.

luther is content with they/them, he/him, or she/her pronouns. they're most familiar with the first two sets of pronouns, and typically have a slight preference for those since she/her is INCREDIBLY affirming for them on feminine days, but on their more masculine days, it can be jarring. in terms of name, they're fine with luther, they like "luth", and folks get extra brownie points if they call them "lulu" on a femme day.

[beloved-not-broken]

Tips for "family-centered" churches, from someone who fell through the cracks.

I attended megachurches for most of my life, and I went to one for a few years as a single adult. As soon as people there figured out I didn’t want to assimilate into their family-first culture, they let me disappear.

Even before I figured out I was queer, I knew I didn’t fit the mold.

I didn’t want to get married, or have kids. The singles ministry was little more than a setup for Christian men and women* to meet, and eventually pair up.

I stopped going after a while, choosing to attend the just worship service and, on certain Sundays, play in the orchestra. Being among adults of all ages in the music ministry, where there was no expectation to marry one of the members, was more comfortable than being with my peers in the singles ministry.

(*This church was also implicitly non-affirming; male and female were the only recognized genders, and same-sex marriage was never mentioned, indicating that it was a taboo topic.)

It’s been years since I’ve attended a megachurch. I’ve since deconstructed my faith and rebuilt it, embraced my queerness, and discovered my call to ministry.

Now that I’m in a place where I can safely reexamine my old beliefs, I realize that the church at large idolizes the nuclear family.

I’m not the only one who’s made this realization. Many Christian leaders are talking about it, and even Focus on the Family—notorious for its emphasis on fostering healthy, godly families—even stated that family has become an idol.

These are just a few people who’ve written or talked about this phenomenon:

Kevin DeYoung—senior pastor of Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, NC

Kate Shellnutt—writer for Christianity Today

Francis Chan—former pastor of Cornerstone Community Church in Simi Valley, CA

Tamela Davis—life coach and creator of The F Word

Peter W. Marty—senior pastor of St. Paul Lutheran Church in Davenport, IA

Bringing idolatry to light is a good thing. But I don’t think it’s enough.

If we want to eradicate this form of idolatry, we need to change our hearts, minds, and church programs.

I have a few suggestions.

Emphasize and foster spiritual families, not just the nuclear family.

In Matthew 12:50, Jesus says, “For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother" (NIV 2011). As Christians, we share an identity in Christ. As a result, we should be thinking of the entire church as our family, not just those who are related to us by blood or marriage.

Create programs that promote integration, not segregation.

Age and marital status aren’t the only ways to sort people into Sunday school classes. What about faith level? Bible study topic? Theological interests? Young adults, elders and those in between should be given ample opportunity to interact so they can benefit from each other’s perspectives.

The churches I attended don’t recognize the diversity of their members, and instead force them to assimilate to prescribed gender roles. For example, not all women want to get married and have kids. Having women’s Bible studies focus exclusively on biblical marriage and household management excludes them. Where can they go to learn about God or grow in their faith? There’s not a place for them in these churches!

Encourage members to create support systems in their community, not just within their families.

Although the church does its best to promote healthy, godly families, the sad reality is that not all families are tightly knit and self-reliant. Divorcees and widows cannot rely on spouses for support; orphans, foster children, and queer folks who’ve been disowned by their families cannot rely on biological parents for support; and anyone who has strained relationships with their relatives cannot rely on family for support.

In the early days of Christianity, the church was the primary support system for those living in the Roman Empire:

“They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”

Acts 2:45-47 (NIV 2011)

The church exists, in part, to be a community for those who otherwise wouldn’t have one. But unfortunately, many churches today exclude those who need the most support. I wonder what Jesus would have to say about that.

Final thoughts

In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul compared the church to the human body. Although he was speaking primarily about the purpose of spiritual gifts, we could apply his analogy to the insight that each member of a church brings to the whole congregation. Churches that have placed the family on a pedestal might not realize that they’ve fallen into idolatry unless single adults, widows, orphans, and others without strong family ties call it out.

We need everyone to contribute to this spiritual community. To call out idolatry. To carry each other's burdens in difficult times and rejoice with them in the good times. To support each other when our families cannot.

We need each other, period.

[findopulencerp]

                                           𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖊𝖞 𝖇𝖆𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖗

she was born 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲 years ago, she is a 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 who lives in 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 as a 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫. she looks an awful lot like 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤.

“For she had a great variety of selves.”

TW: cheating

If you want to learn something about somebody, ask them what number they are in their birth order? Being the oldest of five, Hadley truly was the keeper of all of her siblings for the Baxter’s of good ol’ Opulence, Colorado. Young Hadley took the utmost pride when she learned she was having a baby brother for the first time. Subsequently with each additional sibling, she prepared herself to help her mother out and the additional help with keeping each of them in line. Always the generous, pragmatic, empathetic yet rule-stringent sibling, it was important to her that each of them thrived wherever their plans took them. From sporting events to art performance and academic achievements, Hadley tried to be present in some capacity whether that was helping them prepare or applauding them in the crowd for their good work. It was imperative to her that each of them knew that they were uniquely special, but each worthy of the utmost love and support in whoever they were and whatever they did. 

As for herself, Hadley in true-fashion was a perfectionist, quintessential type A, who made sure all the plan were laid out to precision. So at least she thought. Graduated valedictorian from high school before going off to college with her high school sweetheart to Alabama. Shortly after graduating, she was engaged, married, and within the following couple of years gave birth to a set of twin boys and a little girl all by the age of twenty-six. Hadley’s identity was so warped in being the perfect wife and mother. Curating the nicest household with the white picket fence, perfectly manicured lawn, and the friendliest of dogs. to preparing three home-cooked meals a day, with snacks for all the sporting events, and becoming the head of the school’s PTA. Everyone envied Hadley Baxter because she had the perfect life in her beautiful Ashmore home. 

A cultivation of lies had finally met its break. Catching her husband in an illicit affair after twelve years of marriage, all that Hadley had created had come crumbling down. The box of expectations and perception he had exquisitely molded herself into was no longer valid. Only at age thirty-six did she realize that she finally feel emboldened to live for herself and for nobody else. Taking primary custody of her children, she moved them into a new home, a few blocks over, where they all could start fresh. Hadley became bolder, a bit more risqué, and finally took on the tasks that she never dared too before in life. Opening up her own equine stables for boarding, training, and riding services, Hadley finally gets to call the shots, shocking everyone in her path who didn’t think she was capable of being anything more than a trophy wife. Well she can. While still putting her kids above all else, Hadley is still very much the family-oriented person. Even though she may just be human, there is still magic to be unearthed in Opulence and there’s nothing at this rate that will hold her back from getting a taste of it.

“what power did he attain when settling in opulence?”

No power.

this character is…retired

[solaneandbawb]

Reluctant Reflections

Day 11 - A Laundry Based Akuma

Journal Entry - February 11, 2023

It is suspicious that my cousin always smells of cheese. The most rank and offensive of cheeses. How can my therapist expect me to socialize with him? It is too much for me, and I’m surprised that no one else has noticed it until now. Perhaps they are all too enamored with his father’s position. Someone finally had enough of it – and it wasn’t me.

The Agreste Housekeeper was the most recent victim of Shadowmoth.

The Akuma called herself Distain and flew through the Agreste Mansion marring everything in her path. I was fortunate to avoid the Akuma’s primary abilities, but found myself a victim of her secondary effect. Each stain she created could spread to other objects that touched it.

The Akuma searched for Adrien, who disappeared once more, only to reappear shortly after with a poor excuse. I am beginning to become suspicious of his absences. Why would he need to lie about where he was or what he was doing? Perhaps to hide something from his father? I will find out what he is hiding, if for no other reason to be prepared in case there is fallout with Gabriel Agreste. Adrien is not the type to lie needlessly. He is too innocent minded to be involved in anything nefarious. If I have noticed, others may have as well.

As I write this, I have received a strange message from an unknown number.

What did you do to my girl? If you hurt her I will make sure you suffer.

I have sent several messages back and forth now, and have finally uncovered the identity of Alya Césaire, Marinette’s best friend. Apparently, I have offended Marinette in some way I do not fully understand.

I am not sure how to approach the situation. Do I apologize? Do I ask questions? I thought that I was more than courteous during our last several encounters.

Perhaps I should ask my mother for advice.