#it was a trans woman making a point about the way her makeup was supposed to look to be seen as presentable at work

[hidingoutbackstage]

kill me

[toxicroyjamie]

pleaseeee give us more bigender jamie thoughts the concept is too good

Bigender Jamie my beloved….

He uses he/she pronouns <3 she doesn't mind they/them (pronouns are like. not very important to her honestly. she probably couldn’t tell you what a pronoun was if you asked LMAO) but she just doesn't really connect with gender neutrality/androgyny as much as she does with manhood and womanhood as separate and coexisting entities yk

When Jamie's super little, he starts asking Georgie why there are only boys and girls and he can't be both, and instead of jumping to tell him that's just the way it is (because she wants her bub to be a free thinker. obviously), she thinks about it for a while and is like. Well. I don’t know. I suppose you can be both if you’d like? And Jamie is like “ok :) yay :)” and runs with it

Georgie lets Jamie wear/do whatever he wants. She’s a very busy woman and simply has bigger things to worry about than her child wearing a pink shirt or whatever the fuck. As long as she can afford it, she'll buy it for him, because she's just trying to keep him happy and pay the bills yk

So Jamie amasses a small collection of what he calls “girl stuff," like these types of things

which he absolutely loves and has so much fun w. He's never pressured to identify any certain type of way or change anything about himself, always allowed to experiment, and he's very comfortable until he meets his dad

James starts coming around again when Jamie’s like 10ish, and he’s horrified by Georgie’s lax stance on masculinity and makes Jamie break/cut up/throw out her "girl stuff," because he doesn't think it's at all appropriate for his "son"

Having to destroy his favorite clothes and toys while his dad berates her is super traumatic and completely alters his perception of her gender/gender as a whole. When it was just him and Georgie, Jamie sort of took it for granted that he had room to experiment and didn’t realize that most people really don’t think it’s okay, and so it's a big shock and really forces her into the closet for a long time

Then she starts at the academy and everything around her is super masculine all the time, and she really tries put it behind her and convince herself that it was a phase and she doesn't have any need to indulge in that part of herself, since she's comfortable as a man and doesn't exactly feel disconnected from manhood

But as hard as he tries to convince himself otherwise, he always feels like he's missing part of himself. He's content with the life he's living and absolutely loves being one of the lads, but there's just something missing and it's undeniable and uncomfortable and always bubbling below the surface

So she's stuck in that limbo until she starts dating Keeley. He shows her an old picture where he’s wearing a Cinderella costume at daycare or something and tells her how he used to want to be “a girl and a boy at the same time” + about the “girl stuff” and how James made him destroy it, and he recounts the whole thing like it’s a funny story (because that’s just how he processes things) and is expecting Keeley to laugh with him, but she just gives him this really sad look and tells him she's sorry that happened to him and she hopes he feels comfortable expressing himself authentically with her

Which he doesn't at first, but he acclimates, because Keeley is willing to meet him halfway and work it out with him <3 She does his makeup on occasion and they experiment with phrases like "good girl" and "girlfriend" and even subtle public expressions of femininity like jewelry and nail polish and "women's" soap/shampoo, which Jamie really loves mixing with his generally masculine presentation

At one point Keeley asks her if she thinks she's a trans woman, and she's like. ":/ I don't think so, like I don't want to be a woman all the time, I just wish I could be a lady without having to give up being a lad 😔”

And Keeley of course is like "oh like bigender?"

She says it like it's nothing, but it's the first time Jamie's ever heard that and he had no idea that that was a real option and genuinely feels like he's found something he's been looking for his entire life and literally almost cries

(You can't spell "lady" without "lad" <3)

So Jamie starts to get Girl Stuff again (including some early-aughts nostalgia items identical to the things that James made her get rid of, which is very healing) and present the way she wants to present and has never ever been happier and finally feels whole

I have a LOT of thoughts about Jamie's gender identity and his relationship with Roy and the internal conflict/shame that would arise from that, but this post is already soooo long so you guys will have to let me know if you want me to talk about all that in another post

She's mostly pretty comfortable with her body, so she forgoes gender affirming surgeries, but she does start estrogen in her mid-late 20's, which is a game changer because it makes it easier to present feminine when she wants to while also allowing her to present masculine when she wants to

He doesn't really ever come out to the team, because that's not his style. They can figure it out on their own. (If you assume she's cis that's on you etc.) And they do!!! Dani starts calling her "amiga" on tuesdays thursdays and saturdays and "amigo" on mondays wednesdays and fridays or something like that lmaooo

He does come out to Georgie and Simon tho <3 Georgie is not surprised at all and takes to adding "baby girl" and "my daughter" to her repertoire very quickly, and at the end of the day she's the person whose opinion matters most to Jamie, so it's just a huge weight off his shoulders

(Simon makes her a bi flag cake and is like "love is love <3" and Jamie is like. Hm. Well. Thank you. You're a little lost but thank you)

[saintjosie]

Ok from a transfemme to a trans woman - how do you makeup? I've been wanting to get into it for so long but the first time I tried was an absolute disaster, and I can't find any tutorials that go through the absolute beginner basics

tbh, you have to just keep on doing it even though it’s a complete disaster. i started my transition in 2020 but i was doing makeup and “cross dressing” for nearly 8 years before i considered myself to be trans. and it was years before i was able to do makeup to the point where i felt good about the way that i looked every time i did it.

that being said, there’s no guide that’s gonna be able to tell you everything you need to know but i’ll try to give as many tips and jumping points i can in order for you to try out things and figure out what to look up.

- make up is different for everyone - everyone has a different face shape, eye shape, cheekbones, jawline, complexion, etc. and the way to do makeup that looks good for you specifically is going to vary a shit ton based on those things. when you look up stuff, look up how to do makeup for a certain set of features. figure out what face shape you have, skin types for foundation, etc.

- there’s no one right way to do it - i do a bunch of things that are “technically incorrect” because i’ve tried it the “right” way and it just didn’t work for me. so i figured out something that i liked instead and make that a technique i used regularly. also even though people will say you’re supposed to do certain things, a different technique might yield a different result. as an example, conventional wisdom will say use primer, foundation, then a translucent or setting powder, then a setting spray. recently a very popular technique has been using moisturizer, then setting powder, then setting spray, THEN putting on all your other makeup and supposedly it lasts longer. there’s literally no “correct” way, it’s just whatever works.

- blend the shit out of everything. this is the one technique which pretty much applies for everyone. blend blend blend blend. i like using a beauty sponge. run it under the tap for a second (literally a second, you want it moist not wet) to wet the sponge and then use dabbing motions to blend your makeup.

- asking for help at makeup stores helps A LOT. i’ve had really really good experiences asking for help at makeup stores even though i was super uncomfortable with the idea at first. i found that a lot of people were judgement free and even very gender affirming even when i was presenting masc. and i live in the south!

okay now to more granular stuff - here’s the basics of what i would consider to go into a “full face” makeup routine - primer, foundation, concealer, highlight/contour, setting. eye makeup would add additional things - eyeliner, mascara/lashes, eyeshadow. lips add additional things as well - lipstick, lipliner. ill try to go through the entire process and add my fav products or two. (i should probably make this into a video series tbh)

1) primer - it protects your skin and makes your makeup stay longer and look better. use it.

- my fav: the ordinary - high fluidity primer

2) color correcting concealer - an optional step for transfemmes like me with darker colored facial hair. using a reddish or orangish color correcting concealer or lipstick over the areas where your facial hair shows through the skin will neutralize the shadow that shows through foundation. add a little bit, sparingly, blend with a sponge.

- my fav: la girl color correcting concealer orange

(the best one of these is made by dragun beauty who is a trans woman…but who did blackface…so don’t buy her shit)

3) foundation - figuring out your color is hard. look up a guide, ask in store, try a bunch of different ones. there’s a difference in coverages. full coverage means its made to cover everything. buildable means you need to apply and blend a few times and is good for if you don’t want heavy coverage everywhere. don’t use too much otherwise you’ll look like a plastic doll. unless you want to look like that then go nuts. blend the shit out of it so that it doesn’t cake up.

- my fav: juvias place bc it’s full coverage and actually has my skin tone as an asian person

4) concealer - this is different from color corrector and i usually do this after foundation. this is just a touch up for any blemishes, dark spots under eyes, pimples, shit like that. just use a tiny tiny dab and blend. this is also hard to get your color right so get help if you can.

- my fav: colourpop concealer, or nars concealer if you’re a fancy bitch

5) blush - i don’t really use blush much but blush is one of those things where you should look up a guide for how your face is shaped. positioning blush in different ways will help shape your face in different ways.

6) contouring - okay this is the hard one. i can’t tell you how to contour your face because this is one that varies a shit ton from person to person. the basic gist of it tho is that you are using a contouring stick, bronzer, or palette to add shadows to your face. when you put on foundation it makes everything an even color and makes you look flat, so contouring is basically drawing those shadows back in to contour your face. you can do this in so many ways even for your own face so imo, you experiment and see how you like it. typical places for contour to go will be under my cheekbones, on my nose bridge, sometimes under my jaw to slim the face.

- my fav: i can’t remember i’ll come back to this one

also i drew this diagram a long time ago to help myself get the idea of where i wanted to put it on my own face and i went from there. the brown was contour and the other color was highlight. i don’t do it like this at all anymore but it helped to get the basic idea at first.

7) highlight - the opposite of contour where you’re making certain parts of your face brighter to contrast the darker parts. typically goes on your cheekbones and nose.

- my fav: watts up by benefit

8) translucent powder/setting powder - okay so this one can either go after foundation, before blush, contour, highlighter, or here. basically it’s a powder that goes evenly over your whole face to help your makeup stay where it is. personally i usually do it after foundation instead of here but either works. basically you take a powder brush (the big floofy ones) and then put it all over lightly.

- my fav: nyx hd finishing powder

9) setting spray - it’s a spray that you put on last to help your makeup stay where it is. shake up the bottle real good and just mist it all over.

- my fav: tarte shape tape stay spray

okay i’m tired now and that’s plenty for now. i’ll update with lip and eye stuff later.

[autumnslance]

People who dont like Hildibrand because all they see is a muscular man in a dress kill me.

I’m not even addressing those who just can’t handle a socially manly man in a socially feminine dress due to their own issues; I’ma use this to discuss a different angle on the problem some players have had with Hildi’s “disguises.”

Crossdressing is an old comedy trope in a lot of places; it's also not uncommon in detective/inspector stories when the investigator needs to get near their mark or protect a target.

In its checkered history crossdressing has been used in fiction as a celebration, as a commentary, and as a way to make fun of gender non-conforming (gnc) and trans folks. That last point is what makes some uncomfortable to upset at the Hildi quests. Especially if they've faced issues for their own gender presentation.

Hildibrand isn't the only one in the quests who dresses up as another gender; the culprits in the ARR present as an apparent male thief, and it's not until the end we learn that it's a scheme by two sisters, one of them taking on the role of the masked bandit. They take on flawless disguises of other male characters throughout the chain as well. The villain is treated seriously, and the male disguises are not commented on or treated as unusual. Their actual mastery is contrasted against Hildibrand's amateur foolishness.

For those who enjoy the quests, we're seeing a case of the story poking fun at Hildibrand specifically; he thinks he's pulled off a flawless disguise when everyone can tell it's him. His goal in dressing up as the bride in ARR is to get close to the assumed culprit and protect the maiden being targeted. There are no real judgemental comments in story** about Hildi dressing as a woman, the issue is he's trying to pretend to be a specific person and he's obviously not her. Hildibrand has the best of intentions, but his execution is terrible because he's an idiot.

Which is where the comedy is meant to come in (and he's actually in no hurry to remove the dress and make-up, he's quite comfortable).

In Stormblood, Nashu's already been dolled up to get into the room and close to their target, but Hildi also dons the geiko disguise to perform as a distraction and cuz he just likes dressing up and putting on the makeup (that he keeps on even after getting back in his suit). And again, thinks he's helping when his antics make things worse, because that's the comedy routine; he wasn't supposed to be there and believes he's fooling everyone.

(He does kinda fool Jim, maybe, but there's a lot of other things going on there and y'know, I've never searched for specific ship fics that I wouldn't be surprised exist somewhere...)

But for some folks, seeing a man crossdress for any reason in a comedy story is uncomfortable. Especially since for so long in media, comedy was one of the only times crossdressing could be seen; sometimes as celebration, more times as bullying.

When asked at a FanFest panel about adding more queer representation and releasing the gender locks on glamour items (which it was obvious many fans wanted), Yoshi-P mentioned having to be very careful due to how so many social reactions and censors are against it. He told a story of seeing an adolescent that seemed to be wearing clothes not socially matching their apparent physical gender--and also seeing a mother pull her child away and block their view while making a nasty face. Yoshida said he felt heartbreak for the teenager, seeing how they were treated just for expressing themselves. That's the society we live in around the world.

So is the Hildibrand quest making fun of gnc/trans folks? I don't think so myself, as the focus of the comedy is Hildibrand's own foolishness. The ARR villain is treated seriously and without comment or denigration, their competence compared to Hildibrand's incompetence.

I don't believe there is a moral issue present; it's a matter of perception and taste, and comedy is extremely subjective and not always going to land. The Hildi quests already aren't for everyone--heck, slapstick at all isn't usually my preference, but Hildibrand's own heart and sincerity underlying the goofy idiocy won me over. And I found the quests at a rough time when I needed a laugh badly. But for other folks, that's going to hit different, when what's supposed to be a silly quest throws something they don't find funny at them.

Like my irritation at the lalafell always in the background following Nashu, related to a specific type of Japanese comedic trope. I don't find it amusing. It's a single irritation point in a long story and among characters I otherwise enjoy, but I think the quests would be fine without those particular gags. There's a lot of folks who feel the same about the crossdressing, if they might otherwise have fun or at least be OK with the Hildibrand stories.

---

**There also may be a few things that could be said about how we players perceive the society, clothing, and gender presentation in game as a reflection of our own society despite the world in lore not showing the same standards by putting various characters of any gender in skirts and robes and skimpy outfits, or clothes otherwise gender locked (now or previously) for players, but that's starting to drift into a whole other topic.

[ceapa-mica]

GEHAT’IK BE ALIIT | Chapter 13

{cross-posted on ao3}   {masterlist}

← previous chapter   next chapter →

pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

warnings: injury and blood

words: 7358

summary: Their job on Naboo throws Din and Elora into an event where they clearly don't fit in.

a/n: Welcome back!

Here it is! The final chapter of the Naboo arc.

In this chapter Naboo gets a trans queen. It's what a beautful planet like Naboo deserves. ❤️ Oh and what's GBA without the action and drama? There's plenty!

I hope you enjoy!

Elora woke up to an empty bed. The side Din had slept on was already cold. When she turned around, she flinched at the sight of Arfour by her bedside. "Good morning to you, too. Yes, you come along on our mission, of course." She patted the flat top of his dome and got up. She sensed Seshén coming up the stairs. Seconds later there was a knock on the door.

"Elora? Wake up, time to get ready!" Seshén came in, looking a little disappointed when she noticed the now wrinkled dress Elora was still wearing. "We'll have to hurry. It's already past 0900!"

"That's early… The ball's supposed to be in the evening, yes?"

"Sure, but it will take several hours alone to turn you into a lady who fits into high society. I'll take care of your looks while my husband takes care of your false identity." With her gray hair tied back in a messy bun and her usual working clothes consisting of a simple blouse, long skirt and an apron, Seshén didn’t exactly look like someone you would expect to know about modern Naboo fashion.

Walking down the stairs in those shoes without losing her balance was harder than she expected. Din waited downstairs, his armor polished, looking shinier than ever. Under the helmet he gaped at her beauty. The light blue gown was a beautiful contrast to her auburn hair. The fabric hugged her waist perfectly, and the crystals really looked just as shiny as his armor, if not even more so. He held out his arm for her to take. As she did, they walked outside together where a luxurious landspeeder waited for them.

Elora knew she never wanted to do a job like that ever again. As expected, the following hours made her very uncomfortable. She couldn't relax, no matter how warm the bath water, no matter how soothing the skin lotion and oils. This was not her. Seshén turned her auburn hair into a very elegant braid and helped her with the zipper of her light blue velvet gown which looked stunning on Elora. From her chest down to her abdomen the fabric was covered in shiny crystals, letting her sparkle like a star cluster, and the sleeves were puffy - typical for Naboo fashion. Elora knew it would catch many eyes, just like Din’s armor would. The pearl white high heels she had to wear with her gown were painful to walk in since her feet were only used to her flat sandproof shoes. Seshén placed a delicate looking silver necklace around Elora’s neck, the pendant was a silver silhouette of a bird she wasn’t familiar with. Silver bracelets with shining jewels graced her wrists shortly after. Bright red lipstick, eyeliner, decent eyeshadow - she was not used to the feeling of makeup on her skin, it even felt a little itchy at some point. Not to forget the powder to cover the galaxy of freckles on her face and the tops of her slender shoulders and defined collarbone that peaked above her dress. She indeed looked just like the women in the holodramas. When she looked into the mirror she sighed, the woman staring back at her did not look Elora Jihiiga anymore, but a stranger. Arfour looked her over with his sensor, making confused bleeping sounds when he noticed her sad expression.

Ghizma wore a black body glove, her curly fuchsia hair tied neatly into a ponytail. She leaned against a speeder bike, cleaning her sniper rifle with care.

"You'll be taking the landspeeder. Ghizma will be making her way on the speeder bike to get to the other side of the palace where her sniper nest will be. Here are your faux chain codes. Good luck!" Zaev announced. The three exchanged looks. Ghizma eyed Elora, biting her lip, as there was nothing to ridicule her for. She lost her bet - Seshén managed to make the filthy desert girl look like actual royalty.

"I'm Princess Edie Jotraas from a small planet named Ristea, and currently on Naboo for a diplomatic visit." Elora looked over the sheets of flimsi Zaev had given her. She had to get used to the role before the mission began. "And you're Jes Favars… my bodyguard and confidante. Looks like you don't have to adapt at all." She rolled her eyes and stuffed the flimsi in Mando's messenger bag. "Edie Jotraas… I have to get used to that name.."

"You better get used to it quickly. We can't afford to fail this mission." Ghizma reminded her and got on her speeder bike with her disassembled rifle on her back.

"How are they supposed to address me? Your highness? Your majesty? Shit…" 

"They will know how to call you. Relax. You gotta pretend you're supposed to be there." Zaev explained.

"And what about you?" she pointed at Ghizma.

"Me? I'll keep watch from a distance and shoot to distract everybody. They will be after me. That will give you a chance to get to Masuk's quarters."

Elora nodded. It was all settled. The landspeeder looked every bit luxurious, expensive enough to be a noble’s vehicle. A spark lit up in Elora's eyes at the idea of scrapping it for parts. Her fingers itched to take the vehicle apart, but she had to resist the temptation and get in the backseat.

This is already harder than I thought. Man, this speeder is so valuable. Maker help me…

Nervously bouncing her leg, she watched the historic buildings of Theed pass. She and Din remembered how they spent the day before exploring this beautiful city. At that moment they wished they weren’t here for a mission but for pleasure. He had learned so much about her just spending the entire previous day with her. With every new planet she visited, her curiosity grew. As Arfour steered the speeder through the streets she wished she could explore the entire city, visit all the little shops, talk to the friendly people, and ask them and Din thousands of questions about life, about the Galaxy. After a life in the desert all she wanted was to explore. Getting acquainted with new types of droids or speeders and learning how to take them apart and fix them. There were so many impressions on their drive to the palace, she couldn’t decide where to look. Her eyes eventually landed on an antique golden gate at which Arfour halted the landspeeder. Din and Elora exchanged looks. "You ready?" he asked and got out to help her out of the speeder like the gentleman he was. One minute they admired the city, the next the situation became uncomfortable to the both of them. They knew they didn't belong in a place like this. Too many people, too many protocols on how to behave - it was a nightmare, and nothing what Elora expected it to be. She recalled the holopic of Eron Masuk from her memory while they walked up the stairs to the palace. Focusing on the job at hand mattered, not what some dumb nobles thought of her. Elora may fit right in with her dress and overall appearance, but Din stuck out like a sore thumb. He didn’t look regal in any way. His armor, no matter how polished, couldn’t hide all his weapons and the regular clothing he wore underneath.

There was a rustle at the other end of the comm. “Ok, remember the etiquette. Do not speak to the queen unless she speaks to you and don’t act confused or shocked when she does. Remember, it’s a matter of respect!” Ghizma told them on their comm channel.

“Don’t worry, my cousin Erwa is trans. There’s no reason to treat someone differently because of their gender.” Elora said.

The guards stopped him at the gate. Din just looked way too intimidating, no matter how shiny his armor. "Sir, we must ask you to leave your weapons. And are you sure about… taking that droid with you?" Arfour didn’t look exactly like a droid a royal would own.

"Weapons are part of my religion."

"This man is my trusted bodyguard. I won't go anywhere without him, same goes for the astromech. You don't want to keep me from joining the festivities, do you?" Elora chimed in, showing them her faux chain code. Arfour’s flaking paint job was something she had to tend to once she was back on the Razor Crest with enough time on her hands. The guardsman apologized profusely and let them pass, obviously afraid to lose his job.

The Royal Palace exceeded Elora’s expectations. The large throne room was an enormous room with historic paintings on the walls, dark red curtains, shiny beige marble flooring and a buffet with more food on one table than she had ever seen. Most of the many guests were human. No matter their wealth, Din's beskar armor drew many eyes regardless. Several guests started whispering. Whether it was about the armor, her dress or Arfour’s paint job, Elora’s reply to all those voices around her was a forced smile on her lips. It took a lot for her to adapt to the way they moved. When she heard them speak, she noticed they used words in Basic she wasn't familiar with. Scanning the crowd, a middle aged man with brown locks and in a stylish suit surrounded by people - mostly by women who admired him - caught Din’s eye. This was most definitely the man they were looking for.

He's one of those guys. This couldn't be easier.

While looking at him, he scanned him with his helmet's sensors and noticed a small object in the pocket of his suit. "El- I mean, your highness… Do you see him? Masuk is right over there. He has the object in his pocket."

"Wait, it's supposed to be in his room." Ghizma told them through the comlink.

"Why would he leave something so valuable in a place where it was almost stolen before?" Elora voiced her thoughts.

"She's right. It makes sense he keeps the stick close. Those women could very well make a potential thief think he's easy to approach. This is most likely a trap."

Elora cocked her head. "The plan was to steal the datastick from his room. Now we need to improvise and-"

"My lady, may I ask for a dance?" A young man in a noble burgundy red suit and black slicked back hair had approached her from behind, interrupting her.

"I- I don't dance."

"Most princesses wouldn't turn down such a great opportunity." He flashed her the whitest smile Elora had ever seen.

Who does he think he is? Who the hell is this guy?

"You know who I am?" she asked, balling her hands to fists behind her back, trying not to make her tension obvious.

"Your royal highness Edie Jotraas of Risteria of course. You were announced when you joined the festivities." With a flirtatious wink the guy held out his arm for her to take. "Lord Charr from the noble house of Teral from Alderaan, my lady. I’m the last of my line." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. She wanted to vomit and Din made a grimace under his helmet at the gesture. He watched her following the guy's lead on the dancefloor. He knew Elora was clever, but nobody could learn how to dance in a matter of minutes. Despite an enthusiastic young lady asking him for a dance, he remained at his spot by one of the tall  white columns with Arfour and watched Elora’s attempt at dancing from afar. The noble from Aldreaan suffered - at least his feet did. She had looked over his shoulder several times to look out for Din and Eron Masuk. The latter was still surrounded by several women and even a few men. She knew she had to catch him alone in a less crowded environment to steal from him. This entire situation sucked. The initial plan had been for nothing. When Elora returned to Din's side, the queen's lackey approached them, looking way too honest to ask her for a dance.

"Your royal highness, Queen Dialé demands to speak with you." he told her in a formal accent.

"With me? May I ask why?”

“You will have to ask her yourself.” He led her and Din towards the throne where a tall beautiful woman was watching the festivities. Her makeup showed off her status as the elected monarch of Naboo, just like the dark royal robes and headdress she was wearing. She looked every bit majestic. Elora noticed this was nothing like the hierarchy of a Jawa tribe. A sudden feeling of nausea overcame her.

“Princess Edie Jotraas, we meet at last.”

At last? Does that mean my false identity is not some made up persona…?!

Elora curtsied, just like she had practiced the previous day.

“After declining each of my prior invitations I’m astounded you followed this one. I take it you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, your majesty. Your palace is impressive, I must say.” She nervously kneaded her fingers, wishing for the moment to be over. Talking with the Queen turned her into the very center of attention in the throne room. She felt attention in the form of many eyes on her at the very moment.

“Curious, I’ve heard your palace lies on a mountain top over a sea of clouds, yet you think of mine as impressive? I’m truly flattered.” Queen Dialé’s eyes went to Din who stood behind Elora showing a relaxed posture Elora knew to be a facade. “Hm, Mandalorians have become a rare sight to behold nowadays. May I ask where you found this one?”

“He… he just crossed my path one day during my travels.”

“Oh? Well, he probably does an excellent job. I hope you enjoy your stay and let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Thank you for your kind words, your majesty.” Elora curtsied again. Her initial tension fell off once she was out of the Queen’s sight. It confused her to say the least. Queen Dialé was not like a tribe’s chief like she imagined she would be. Instead of mingling with her guests she just sat on that throne and watched the festivity unfold. It didn’t look like she had any task to do apart from sitting there and looking stunning in her royal robes. It had taken a lot of restraint to refrain from asking the Queen if she would like to play a game of sabacc to brighten her mood. Elora had to focus on the task at hand, and that was to separate Eron Masuk from the crowd of admirers which had gathered around him. As if on cue the target stood up from the fancy sofa he sat on an appeasing smile across his face as he addressed his followers and excused himself. Din used his helmet’s sensors to determine exactly what he was saying.

“He’s going to the ‘freshers.” Din spoke to Ghizma over the comm. She recalled the palace’s layout and groaned in frustration.

“No chance. The ‘freshers are hidden from my point of view.”

“Don’t worry, that’s my chance to steal the datastick.” Elora followed the target subtly enough so nobody would become suspicious. The walls in the hallways were covered in art and more wine red curtains, while the marble floor was covered by a carpet in the same shade of red. Everything was so clean and looked more like a museum than an actual home to someone - ruler or not.

“Are you sure this is the right moment?” Din asked.

“I have to try.”

Ghizma rolled her eyes and lowered her rifle. “In case things go south I shoot up the buffet or scare some high ranking dipshit with a few shots.”

“Stay here.” Elora whispered when they reached the corner of the hallway where the ‘freshers were located.

“What’s your plan exactly? Do you wanna seduce him?” Ghizma asked.

Din tensed at the thought. Elora shook her head before realizing that Ghizma couldn’t see her. “I don’t know how to seduce someone. I’ll just act spontaneously.”

“We’re doomed.” Ghizma sighed.

 When Eron Masuk left the ‘fresher, he stumbled over a foot in an expensive looking high heel. The moment it took for him to regain his balance was enough for Elora to snatch the datastick from his pocket. She hid it under her breast band, pretending to scratch an itch on her collarbone.

“My apologies, are you alright?” she asked in the best fake concern she could muster.

“I am, thank you.” When he turned around he pulled a blaster from his jacket in the blink of an eye, holding Elora at gunpoint. “Y’know, it’s a shame a sweet thing like you wants to steal from me.”

“The true shame is guys like you exist.” she answered nonchalantly.

“You know nothing about me. Do you wanna risk your life? Your freedom? Is this worth it?”

Elora remained calm in the face of danger. “I know enough. And I’ve never been one to half-ass shenanigans.” Her facial expression was blank, it made him uneasy.

“Neither have I.” He attempted to shoot Elora with a stun ray, but she dodged it just as he  pulled the trigger.

Alarmed by the shot, Din stepped around the corner, pointing his blaster at Eron Masuk. His gaze suddenly locked onto something behind them a silver protocol droid was approaching them.

“Looks like you’re not the only one with reinforcements.”

“It’s a common protocol droid.” With her words Masuk’s blaster flew out of his hands and she caught it with ease.

“Fascinating.” He snorted. “I thought the Jedi were extinct. Certain people would consider your skillset as very valuable. And your Mandalorian companion - his armor is worth a fortune. I gotta say, I’d prefer you as my allies, but now that it seems impossible I’ll have no choice.” His words served as a distraction. He had pressed a button on his bracelet without Elora or Din noticing. The droid moved towards them, and suddenly it was getting taller and taller until it almost reached the ceiling.

“Give me back my datastick and I shall leave you and your companion unscathed. If you don’t comply you will join all the others of your kind. Don’t be stupid. The Jedi were peacekeepers, and is it really in your interest to die for such an insignificant cause, Mandalorian?”

“Killing someone who’s massively profiting from all the misery he brings over this Galaxy doesn’t seem insignificant to me. This is the way.”

“You think you know who we are, but you don’t.” Elora retorted. Din walked up behind her, intimidating as ever.

“This droid is programmed to eliminate anyone who dares to threaten me. A completely modified protocol droid. It’s your choice. Should you open fire, you won’t survive the counterattack.”

The strange technology allowed the droid to not just become three times its size but it showed off several weapons systems, including three powerful blaster cannons.

“Those could blow up the palace! Are you out of your mind?!”

“What’s going on in there?” Ghizma asked via comm.

“Just a giant ass droid with enough firepower to destroy this place. And for what? What’s on that stick you would blow up an entire palace for?!”

“You would like to know that, wouldn’t you? It contains a map with coordinates to worlds that have piqued my interest.”

“To help those slave traffickers you’re so friendly with?!” Din spat.

The smug look vanished from Masuk’s face, turning downright furious.

“This is your last chance. Give back the datastick and I will refrain from blowing this palace to bits. Naboo is useless to my efforts and has nothing profitable to offer anyway."

Elora knew stopping a droid this big was tricky, but it was a fucking droid. And if anyone had experience with droids, it was her. Masuk wasn’t the one who had built it - machines in a factory did. She had been fixing and building droids from scrap all her life. This one was just another one to be scrapped, she decided. When she reached out to destroy it with her powers… it hardly budged. Din swallowed under his helmet and released a swarm of whistling birds from his vambrace - to no avail. They didn't cause any damage at all. It dawned on Din what this droid was made out of. Eventually it shot at Elora, barely missing her. The noise must have caught the attention of everyone else inside the palace.

“The people must be evacuated! Ghizma, shoot!” Din called.

The Theelin grinned and shot up the buffet from her spot. Food and drinks splattered throughout the throne room paired with the hysterical screams of the guests and orders barked at the palace guards. She had to leave her position immediately if she wanted to remain anonymous.

A huge clanker? Haven’t shot one in ages… I should go check that out.

The bolts from the droids' laser cannons left holes in the marble floor.

"It's made out of beskar!" Din had recognized the Mandalorian metal the second the whistling birds had hit it with the signature sound of beskar colliding with beskar.

This makes the situation a lot more difficult.

Explosives and blaster bolts couldn't destroy pure beskar. Din knew he had to find a weak spot not covered in the valuable metal to shut off the droid. Finding shelter behind a column, he used the sensors in his helmet to figure out the droid's vulnerabilities. He discovered a patch of unprotected wiring on its neck and a plan formed in his head.

"I know what to do!"

Elora took that as a cue to stun Eron Masuk with his own blaster, while dodging another bolt from the droid's blaster cannon. Her ears were ringing at the loud noise as she joined Mando behind the column at the corner.

"Ghizma, we need you here. You must distract the droid for us. Elora, you got the stick?" he asked.

"Hidden in the safest place on my body."

"The droid must be destroyed, otherwise it will wreak havoc and destroy the entire palace. There's a weak spot at its neck - a patch not covered by beskar and, unfortunately, out of our reach, so the droid must fall -" As the heavy steps of the droid neared, a blaster bolt hit the marble floor next to Elora. They escaped to the end of the hallway behind one of the heavy curtains.

"The droid doesn't seem to be fast, we can use that to our advantage. Ghizma, do you copy?"

"Almost there!" she responded, sounding a little out of breath.

"Ok, Elora, in order to make it fall I'm gonna use my whipcord. That won't do much unless you use the Force to keep the droid's legs in place. It will fall. When it does, I'll jump on its back and tear through the wiring."

Elora sensed Ghizma before she arrived. The Theelin was out of breath, her black boots stained with unspeakable stains of food and liquids.

"The throne room looks like a fucking battle zone. So where's your- AH!" A blaster bolt almost hit her in the chest had Elora not force pulled her away from the spot in the matter of a second.

"I- I see… What do you need me to do?"

"Distract it! We need to get closer to it without getting shot."

"Stay here, I'll take care of it." With a determined spark in her deep brown eyes she started shooting while leaving her cover.

"Over here you piece of junk!" she yelled, luring the droid the other way, causing it to tear several paintings off the wall in the process. It aimed its weapons in her direction, turning its back to Din and Elora.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Din asked.

"I will do my best." Elora assured him, looking at Arfour who was trembling behind her. "Arfour? Not so much…"

Din nodded and walked up to the distracted droid, shooting his whipcord at its two legs.

"Now!"

She took a deep breath and reached out through the Force. Gritting her teeth, she kept the droid in place with the whipcord which Din had separated from his vambrace. The droid couldn’t move from the spot, yet it was programmed to move. First it swayed, then it crashed down with a deafening noise, tearing down several curtains and more paintings along with it. Din jumped on its back and tried to get to the exposed wiring.

“Watch out!” Elora yelled, trying with all her power to stop the droid’s beskar arm from hitting him, but she was only able to slow the blow a little. The impact was inevitable. With a sound only beskar colliding with beskar could make, Din was thrown off the droid’s back. Elora’s heart stopped for a moment at the sight.

“ARGH!” Ghizma screamed, focusing her fire at the droid’s face. Simultaneously Elora let go of her force grip the second Din had fallen off the droid. His armor hitting the ground had left cracks in the marble tiles beneath him - he didn’t move when she crouched next to him.

“Mando… D-Din! No no no! Get back up! We must-”

Instead of the Mandalorian it was the droid which was getting back up as it had managed to rip the whipcord apart. Desperately Elora pulled Din’s limp body out of harm's way around the corner.

“Hey redhead! You can stay with your cyare, I know what your plan was. Mando said it’s on its neck? How about you-” Ghizma dodged several deafening shots from the blaster cannons. “How about you throw me on top of that thing?”

Elora looked up while feeling for a pulse or signs of breath. She took a deep breath and swallowed her panic and anxiety.

“Arfour, watch over him, I’ll be back in a sec.” Elora sprinted around the corner. The second Ghizma saw her, she got into position.

“Do it!”

She felt the Force flow through her and reached out until it wrapped around Ghizma, catapulting her onto the droid’s shoulders. There she pulled a vibroblade out of her boot. With a furious scream she rammed it right through the exposed wiring. The droid stumbled several steps before falling. Ghizma jumped off before it hit the ground, approaching a still stunned Eron Masuk, clutching the vibroblade in her hand tighter than before.

“I love you, Din.” His mother kissed him one last time. The heavy steps and blaster shots from the seperatist droids filled the air, but all he could focus on was his mother’s loving face. “Come back to me.” Another voice spoke. It was familiar, so familiar. His parents put him into the hideout, shutting the doors. The explosion which took their lives rang in his ears like it did so many times before in his dreams. When the doors opened, and he expected the droid to aim its weapons at his helpless self, he was back.

The first thing he saw was the bright light of a chandelier, the second thing were strands of auburn hair. At first all he could hear was his rapid heartbeat, but when he saw her face, as she sat next to him, focused and with her eyes closed, it slowed down. Warmth flooded every fiber of his being. It was none other than the kind of warmth which signified safety. He knew it was her doing and watched her as he slowly came to. A pounding headache and pain in his chest, most likely a few broken ribs, made it hard for him to move like he wanted to. 

“What happened?” he groaned, trying to sit up. The pain in his chest worsened tenfold as he did so. Elora sighed in relief when she heard his raspy voice.

“Welcome back! For a second I thought… Nevermind. You, sir, need a bacta tank.”

“Did you remove my-”

“No! Din I would never do that, you hear me? Unless you were actually dying. But your life force was still there. So I wasn’t that worried.”

If he knew how scared I was… No, he’ll be fine. I hope those bacta tanks can be used with a helmet on.

Elora had never heard Din whimper before. That’s when she knew he was in a great deal of pain - pain she wished she could take away from him.

“Just let me take a breath.” He sat down, holding the rips on his right side.

“Let me know when you’re ready to walk back to the speeder.”

Arfour nudged Din gently, making a concerned noise. He patted the astromech's flat dome while focusing on his breathing. Meanwhile Elora dug through the heap of expensive scrap, looking for valuable parts that fit into her bags just like she did all her life. When she reached the droid’s center she found something she didn’t expect to find on this quest. This droid had been powered by none other than a  shiny diatium power cell, and in the correct size to fit into her unfinished lightsaber, too. She bit her lip to suppress a scream of joy as she didn’t want to alert Din.

“Oh this is great! Finally!”

Ghizma cleared her throat behind her. When Elora turned around, she flinched. Ghizma was covered head to toe in blood.

“Don’t worry, it’s not mine. Let’s help the old tin can back to your ship in one piece, shall we?” she said with a smirk on her face. Elora noticed Eron Masuk’s life force was gone. That explained the blood, especially the blood dripping out of Ghizma’s bag. When she noticed the uncomfortable look in Elora’s eyes she just shrugged. “You guys don’t take trophies?”

“None I would know of.”

They helped Din get up and walked slowly through the palace towards the exit, that was until the remaining palace guards spotted them - opening fire.

“Ugh great, just what we needed! Go! I’ll have your back!” Ghizma turned and shot at the guards while Elora and Arfour supported Din while fleeing through the entrance hall. Elora kicked her high heels off in the process, since she was not really able to run in them, especially not the stairs. Din was coughing, his breath went heavy. Yet he reached for his blaster. Their way out was blocked by an entire squad of palace guards.

“Freeze! You’re under arrest!” the captain of the guard yelled.

“The man responsible is dead, there is no one for you to arrest!” The guards didn’t back down, not leaving Elora much of a choice. “Sorry about this.”

A wave of the Force yeeted them several meters back. All of them survived, but it took a moment for them to get back to their feet - a moment Elora, Din, Ghizma and Arfour used to escape to the lot where their landspeeder was parked. It was way past midnight, so getting back to the inn in the dark wouldn’t be easy, and losing the guards who were hunting them down while driving though the brightly lit city would be quite a challenge.

“Get in!” Elora jumped into the driver’s seat. Arfour bleeped in protest. “No offense, but I’ve been driving through rough desert terrain for years. The city streets are like… like canyons, yes!” Arfour got into the astromech socket, audibly sulking. They heard the guards’ footsteps when Elora started the engine.

“Ghizma, you think you can stun them?”

“Sure thing!”

As Elora drove off the parking lot and joined the nightly traffic of Theed, the guards got into their military speeders.

“Take my ion blaster!” Elora threw the weapon at Ghizma. “I modified it several years ago.”

The modification made the blaster much stronger than the usual ion blaster. Strong enough to disable the electrical systems of the military vehicles. Elora hit the gas, zooming through the streets of Theed. People screamed, jumping aside, market stalls got knocked over, it was total chaos. The vehicle was faster than an average landspeeder. Eventually police droids were on their heels, coming from almost every direction.

“Dank farrik! You better hold on tight back there! Mando, how are you feeling?”

“I-I’m fine, just- just get us out of here!” He tried not to sound like he was in a great deal of pain, but Elora sensed it all too well. The way he sat on the backseat pressing a hand over the right side of his chest indicated just how much pain he was in. She steered the speeder through a few dark shortcuts, meanwhile Ghizma was constantly shooting those annoying droids off their funny little vehicles which was almost too easy for a markswoman of her skill. Elora could feel even the smallest obstacles approaching and every blastershot before they could hit the speeder. Apart from a few scratches the speeder still looked as good as new, despite being chased down.

“They just won’t give up!” Ghizma complained.

When they finally reached the city’s outskirts, and with them streets with less lighting, they had to think of a plan to return to Zaev’s inn without leading the law enforcement there.

“They’re after our speeder, we need to jump off and make our way to Zaev’s undetected!” Elora emphasized.

“There are several lakes three klicks north from here.” Ghizma suggested.

Lakes meant water. Elora bit her lip and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. “There must be another way! The water- I don’t think Mando is capable of swimming at the moment.” She had to think of a quick plan. All she could think of was a thought she did not like at all - using the Force on Din who was already injured. There was no time.

“Ok, get ready. Remember to turn off your lights. We’ll have to jump. Mando, I’ll break your fall with my powers. I can’t promise it won’t hurt or will worsen your injuries-”

“Do it!” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Hills covered in soft grass would have to do. When the police droids were out of eyeshot, Elora set the speeder on autodrive. They prepared to jump. “3…2…1…NOW!”

During the fall, Elora reached out in the matter of a second, breaking Din’s fall at just the right moment, letting him down as gently as possible. Ghizma spat out bits of dirt which had found their way into her mouth at impact. Arfour landed next to Elora beeping questioningly if they were alright.

“We’re fine. Now let’s go hide behind those trees until the droids are gone.”

“I have dirt in my mouth! That’s what you call fine?!” Ghizma complained.

As expected the police droids continued chasing the silver luxury speeder. They were safe, for now. Arfour used his sensors and led them back to Zaev’s inn. It was a 45 minute walk, and Din’s condition did everything but improve.

“We have a medcenter in our village.”

“I won’t remove my helmet.”

Ghizma shrugged. “We have some good med droids.”

“No droids.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is he always that stubborn when he’s injured?”

Elora huffed. “He’s always stubborn.”

“And people are surprised that Mandalorians are almost extinct. Let me tell ya, they’re all stubborn as fuck.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Mando remarked, then looked at Arfour who was rolling next to him. Initially there had been no trust in this astromech, but now that he had gotten used to the droid being around he didn’t mind him that much.

Perhaps I should trust Elora’s judgment. She knows more about droids than I ever will. I need help. Droids… are no living things. For Grogu. Do it for Grogu.

 They saw the lights from Zaev’s inn two klicks away. There were no police droids in sight, just the Razor Crest was waiting for them at the very spot where Din had left her. With the mission accomplished, they packed what was left of their stuff in their rooms and said their goodbyes to Zaev and Seshén.

Back on board, Din was sitting down on his cot, out of breath, while Arfour and Ghizma went into the cockpit. The Crest was already lifting off when Elora knelt down in front of him to look up at his T visor.

“How are you feeling? It will take several hours until we’re on Mandalore. How can I help you?”

“I’m ok, just- I don’t exactly trust Ghizma with my ship.”

Elora sighed. “Stop your attempts to distract me from your misery. It’s your ribs, right? Care to let me take a look at it?” She went to get the medpack, only to find a cauterizer and several bacta patches in there. “You gotta be shitting me! You’re a kriffing bounty hunter and all you got is that?!”

“It was always sufficient. The beskar keeps me safe, most of the time.”

“Today’s not most of the time. Will you show me your injury or not? Look, I’m just trying to help.”

Din gave in when he saw the piercing look in Elora’s eyes. Arguing with her in his current state would only take more of a toll on him. He removed the armor from the upper half of his body, followed by his clothing. It was the first time Elora saw his bare chest. His skin was golden. She didn’t know what she imagined, but certainly not this. He was just as broad as he looked in the armor.

Now is not the time to fantasize. Save it for later! He’s injured! Elora scolded herself in her mind and applied gentle pressure to the bruises forming on his chest. Din hissed at the pain her touch caused, at the same time he shuddered, as he was not used to someone else’s touch on his bare skin. If it wouldn’t hurt him so much, he would consider the feeling of her skin on his as pleasant. He tried to focus on those pleasant aspects and the focused look in her eyes.

“Ooo that doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to. Several ribs seem to be broken. You don’t have a mediscanner on board, do you?”

He shook his head as she ran her fingers over the bruises again, this time without adding pressure. Din’s breathing was heavy. She didn’t like the sound of it. “Does it hurt when you’re breathing?”

“S-stinging pain, it’s- I’m fine, don’t worry about me, cyare .”

“Sounds like a broken rib might have punctured your lung. This is a dangerous injury and you tell me not to worry? I swear, Din, if you weren't already injured, I would throw a punch at you!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

In so much pain and still smug… I hate Mandalorians and their recklessness.

A sudden jolt notified them that the Crest had entered hyperspace.

Observant as ever, Din nodded towards the full bags inside her cloak. “What did you take?” Elora suddenly remembered the diatium power cell she had taken from the remains of the bodyguard droid. She showed the small rectangle object to him.

“I can finish my lightsaber now.”

Din put his shirt and armor back on. He gritted his teeth more than once at the pain dressing himself caused, but refused Elora’s offer to help him.

“I would like to watch you complete it.”

Elora took the unfinished lightsaber from his weapon storage and began crafting. She looked like she was in her element when she was able to use tools and create things. The way she used the tools, as if her hands were made to hold them, the way she remained fixated on finishing her weapon, Din was intrigued.

Ten minutes later she was done. The weapon looked like it was made from scrap, because it was, yet the material seemed stable and reliable.

“This is it. Let’s hope this works… Are you ready to see it?”

“Yes.” Din felt happy for Elora. She had wanted to use her kyber crystal for so long and now she was able to. There was a happy sparkle in her eyes when the purple plasma blade bathed the room in a purple light. The weapon hummed when she swished it through the air. It looked elegant and the longer he watched Elora wield it, he noticed the weapon and her body became in tune with each other. He had never seen anything like it. The lightsaber became an extension of herself. It was a connection he and his blaster could never have, and Din was more than familiar with his favorite blaster.

Elora felt the Force flow through her body, it connected her with her weapon, physically and emotionally. She knew this weapon would lead her in whatever battle life had in store for her. It was more than a weapon, it was a part of herself, her very soul.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“It looks like you were born to wield it.” Din’s mouth had gone dry. He liked women who knew how to wield a weapon, but Elora made him weak in the knees.

“It’s perfect, Din.” She switched it off and attached it to her belt with a proud smile gracing her lips..

“This is most likely what your mother wanted for you.”

A tear ran down her cheek at his words. She sat down next to him and cupped the cheek of his helmet in her palm. He leaned into her touch despite not being able to feel it through the beskar.

“It feels like we’ve done something right. Like we were supposed to be there at the exact moment, for this exact mission, so I could find the missing piece for my lightsaber.”

“I don’t believe in destiny, but yes.”

“What do you think Mandalore will be like?” she inquired.

“I’ve been told it's a wasteland. Whoever goes there dies. Now our new acquaintances say there’s a village named Kyrimorut. Never heard of it. I don’t know what to think anymore. I just hope Grogu is alright.”

“I can’t wait to meditate with him again.” She leaned her head against his pauldron.

“It’s been three days and I miss the little womp rat more than anything.” he admitted.

Din was not a man who voiced his feelings often, but Elora’s presence caused him to open up. He was just a man under his armor and she was the first person who touched his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. It was different when he was his Grogu. Sure, he was affectionate towards him and the child had a special place in his heart, but the connection he had to him was entirely different than what he felt for Elora. He had shut people out since losing his parent’s on that fateful day to avoid getting hurt again. Somehow Grogu und Elora had managed to worm their way into his heart. The hardened bounty hunter he had been before now was only a facade he pulled up towards outsiders.

Elora felt at peace in Din’s presence. She didn’t mind the cool beskar of his pauldron against her cheek, but sometimes she wished she could be closer. To feel him against her, just like she did during the nights at Zaev’s inn. She had never felt like this before. This wasn’t the same affection she felt towards her family. Being with Din was different and she died to explore those feelings further. He had to heal first, but she planned on bringing this topic up soon enough. Together with him she wanted to figure out how far those feelings went and if they could potentially turn into something more. A part of her yearned for his touch, even fantasized about things she wanted to do with him. She wondered if he felt the same, and in case he did, if he was ready to let go of his restraints and let this feeling take over his actions. Could her wishful thinking become reality soon? Together they sat on the edge of Din’s cot, waiting. He in his shiny armor, she with her now messy hair and slightly torn gown, looking like the polar opposites they were.

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I wrote the battle scene in this chapter before the BOBF finale aired... Hey, should Lucasfilm look for a new writer for their shows, I would gladly accept the job!

Get well soon, Din!!! 🥺

Yep, I plan on writing smut soon. Idk if it will be in the next chapter or the chapter after that. But soon, I promise!

So, Mandalore it is... For all you Legends and Clone Wars lovers, I think the next chapter will be to your liking. 😉

Mando'a translations:

cyare = beloved

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Quick AU where Danny stays in town during Girls Night Out

Yeah, random thoughts spring into brain. Danny is trans. I think that's enough background info. Also, Tumblr got a new post editor, so I'm betaing it right now.

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Danny was supposed to go fishing with his dad. But something came up. AKA, Vlad wanted him to go visit him without Danny. So Danny was in Amity Park when he was supposed to be having dad bonding time. What could he say? His dad got that dumb book and everything. It was gonna be epic. Except stupid Vlad had to go and ruin everything. Whatever. Dad said they would go next weekend.

The first big issue was when Tucker disappeared. And he didn't. Might've been a dumb ghost thing. So he and Sam went to find stuff out. Except all the men in town were gone. It was glaring. "I-I'm sure it's nothing Danny!" Sam said nervously. "Yeah. It's gotta have been a stupid mistake. Maybe I'm immune cause I'm half ghost," Except there weren't any male ghosts either. "Yeah, that's gotta be it!" That when they heard Ember. "OH YEAH! NO MORE PESKY GUYS! IT'S A GIRL'S NIGHT OUT!" "Yes. You know, I'm surprised that worked. I was afraid it might've been a ghost only thing," Spectra drawled. "Of course it worked. The superior gender always prevails," Kitty replied. "And that's obviously female," Every vein in his body was pounding. "I think you might've confused sex for gender ladies," Sam said patiently. "We're not having sex!" Ember laughed. "You do realize how invalidating this can feel for trans people?!" Sam shrieked back. "If they're still here, that means it's a she," Spectra grinned. That was the last straw. He ran. As fast as he could. And for a half ghost that was fast. Once he got home, he slammed the door.

Sam saw Danny run off and knew how this was looking for him. "Isn't this rich? The ghost boy is really a girl," Kitty grinned. "I'm surprised I didn't notice sooner," Spectra laughed. Ember stayed oddly quiet for someone who was normally boisterously loud.

Danny curled in on himself. Herself. NO! Don't second guess yourself. It change the fact that it hurt. "All the men in town are gone!" He heard Jazz yell. "I realize that Jazz. Thank goodness your father is out of town," Mom sighed. "Wait, but Danny isn't! I really hope..." She was standing in his doorway. "FUCKING GHOSTS!" Jazz didn't swear. She never swore. "What is it Jazz? Oh. Danny, I'm so sorry," Mom pulled him into a hug. "I'll be fine," He grumbled. "Do you know which ghosts?" Jazz decided to change the conversation. "Spectra, Kitty and Ember," "Great. Spectra is going to use this horribly," Jazz grumbled quiet enough that only Danny could hear. "Listen, we have to get the guys back first," "Wait, if you're, that means any trans women in Amity are stuck there," Mom said. "Can we not talk about that? I'm seriously not in the mood," "At least pesky Phantom won't be here to get in the way," Jazz and Danny exchanged a look. Sam came bursting in. "Danny! Okay, I am going to make them even deader than before," Sam cracked her knuckles. "I'm fine Sam. Let's just find a way to fix this," "I have an idea!" Jazz said. "No," Danny, Sam and Mom said in unison. "Oh come on. Don't be like that. Not all my plans are bad," Jazz protested. "Speaking from experience (of being trapped in a thermos way too much for one night), that is completely untrue," "What was that about thermoses Danny?" Mom said. "Jazz put soup in my Fenton Thermos!" "I couldn't tell them apart! We really need to label things," "Like with a massive sticker that say Fenton?" "All our stuff has those!" "Fair enough," Danny conceded. It was the plan if anyone caught them talking about getting trapped in thermoses. It made sense because it actually happened. "Well, since Jazz's plan is out, I opt that we figure out how this whole thing happened," Mom said. "It's a combo between Kitty and Ember. Kitty has this thing that makes men disappear into another dimension. And Ember must've used her guitar to make it cover all of Amity. If we don't get them out in twelve hours, they'll be stuck there forever," "And I will have to resign to a life of raging dysphoria," "You were gonna have that anyways," "Times ten. This won't help anyways, but it won't be all bad," "Let's stop talking about you being trans. Danny, you're staying here," Jazz winked. He knew what that meant. They would get all the men back and Danny would keep the ghosts at bay. "Okay. So, from what they were blabbing, all we have to do is get them to do it again," Sam said. Once they had a plan in place, all they had to do was implement it. They left and Danny quickly transformed. Praying that Spectra wouldn't find a way to use this against him, he sped off. "Hey! Poo faces! I'm not gone, and it semi pisses me off!" He screamed. "Oh now sweety. Why would you want to leave behind the superior gender?" Spectra said. "Because it makes me feel horrible and like I was born wrong," "You were, weren't you," Don't let Spectra sink her claws in Fenturd! "Yeah, maybe I was, but if I work hard enough I can fix it," "How is Danny Phantom still here?" He heard Paulina say. Nope, not listening. "They're all going to know. You can't do anything about that," Spectra laughed evilly. "Now girls, follow the recipe! You too now," "I'm. NOT A GIRL!" The wail was probably ill planned, but Danny wasn't thinking straight. Shit, humans. He cut himself off. "Oh come on now. No matter how many times you tell yourself that, you still have to cover parts of yourself. Don't tell me you don't wake up every morning and wish you were a real boy?" "I am. I am a real boy. I just have to take a few extra steps to get there," "Oh come on now. Stop lying to yourself. Maddie, how can you possibly call these eggs? They're green," Okay, maybe dealing with Spectra first was a bad idea. But she was also taunting his mom. Deal with Ember. She must be better than this.

So he flew to a stage. Ember was rocking out with a bunch of girls. Sam was in the background. This was probably one of the less dangerous problems. "Listen, if you're going to taunt me for the fact that I'm still here, do it already," "Hey, listen kid. I'm not actually going to taunt you. Kitty and Spectra are being complete jerks, but I'm not going to judge you for being trans," "Y-you're not?" "Heck no! I'm doing this because I wanted to have a fun night without guys. You included. I'll just have to take a few extra steps to get rid of you!" Danny dodged the guitar strum easily. "Are you planning on bringing them back at the end of the night?" "That's really up to Kitty," "I guess," Sam could deal with Ember.

Next up was Kitty. Oh great, makeup. (I honestly forget what Kitty was doing, so makeup works) "Now girls. All you gotta do is apply the bronzer like so!" "Kitty! How would Johnny feel if he knew you were doing this?" "Oh come on now Ghost girl, you can't be serious. Johnny is having a guys night in all due time," "HEY! Don't you dare. Transphobia doesn't help anyone," Jazz yelled. "Oh stop complaining. She knows she doesn't belong with the guys. From the looks of it, Spectra's already gotten to you. This'll make this so much easier,"

The plan backfired immensely. Danny and Mom were a mess, Sam didn't manage to get the guitar, and Jazz just got in a debate with Kitty. Danny, having to keep up a facade, came downstairs. "How'd it go?" "Terribly. Though, I did learn the Ghost Boy is trans," Mom said. "Fascinating," "It's, well it's oddly human. Why would a ghost even bother?" "Turns out gender dysphoria comes to the grave," "Danny, this is no time for one of your morbid jokes," Yeah, maybe it was morbid, but it wasn't a joke. "Whatever. I guess we get to use Jazz's plan," "All we gotta do is convince them that a cis guy is still in town. Like wandered in after the disappearing act," "Great plan. Sam can't pretend to be me though," "How did you know I was going to do that?" "Lucky guess,"

So that's how Jazz ended up wearing a baseball cap and a pair of men's jeans into Ember's concert. "Did we really have to use a pair of dad's jeans? These barely fit," "You know, the fact that they fit at all should be surprising. Dad was skinny at one point in his life. Which means that one of us could be on his end of the gene pool," "It's probably you," "Don't make me think about that. Hiding what little chest I have is hard enough. If I got dad's genes, I'd honestly be terrified," "We haven't seen the women on his side of the family. And besides, you got the blue eyes black hair thing," "You are honestly scaring me. Now, I gotta scram before someone sees me talking to you. Mom or the ghosts," "Fair,"

And thus, the plan worked. Kitty, adamant that no men be left in Amity, blew another kiss. Ember amplified it. The men came back. The three got thermosed. Jazz laughed at their faces when they honestly though she was from out of town. Danny once again didn't get taken, even in ghost form.

Tucker and Sam found him curled up in his bed. "Hey man. I know this has gotta be tough for you," Tucker said. "Spectra had no right!" Sam continued. "Thanks guys. But I think I'm gonna take a few days off school," The trio heard Dash's voice outside. "Hey mom. I know what happened was scary. And I know it must've felt really bad, but I still see you as my mom," "Thanks Dash. I can always count on you to make me feel better," A woman's voice rang out. Danny looked over the window sill. "See Danny. It's not horribly weird. Just a few transphobic ghosts," Tucker laughed. "A couple," "What?" Sam and Tucker said in unison. "Ember isn't," "How do you know that?" "I talked to her," "Hey Fenturd! Don't you dare tell anyone about my mom! And don't be mean to her! I'm sure you wouldn't get it," "You'd be surprised Dash!" He grabbed his trans flag and hung it out the window. "I get it more than you seem to think!" Dash's mom smiled at him. "Y-you're trans? I thought you were just a loser!" "Yeah, and I had to talk to the transphobic ghosts. So I won't invalidate your mom!" Dash stared up at him. "Holy shit,"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Praying that this uploads, cause I've got shoddy internet rn. And I'm working on my Gravity Falls crossover fic. I just had this pop into my mind. Prolly just gonna be a oneshot. I might make another fic about Jack's side of the family later, that's connected to this one.

[haro-whumps]

Hey how do you think that would be a reverse version of GW? Like, instead of Galo getting the whumpees, the seven of them somehow, through a legal technicality, get a Galo that was Bethany's slave?How donyou think they'd all be, in this situation?

I would like to clarify that Galo and Bethany are NOT related in this version.

--

"... an old paramour," Greyson stated, hedging an explanation. Bethany had been, well, significantly too old for him, at the time. But he'd liked that.

Even so, he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to disclose his past questionable relationships with his housemates.

"And what did she leave you, exactly?" Evan asked, wearing his joggers and leaning against the doorframe, Lilah dressed similarly and walking past him with a deep pull from her water bottle.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Greyson said, passing him the letter. Lilah propped her arm up on his shoulder, only to be dislodged as he propped his arm up on her head. The two leaned in and read the letter together, their faces screwing up at almost the exact same moment.

"Well that's cryptic," Lilah said, taking the page from Evan's hand and flipping it over, checking the blank back. She handed it back to Greyson, who nodded his assent.

"So my bet's on bird," Evan said, ganking Lilah's water bottle and finishing it off.

"Evan!" Nyla called from the other side of the house, "Have you sent me your portion of the mortgage yet?"

"I thought the point of buying a house was to get away from landlords," Evan muttered to Lilah, who snorted.

"Evan!"

"Doing that now!"

Sasha entered and gently shoed the athletes out. "I n-need to get st-started on dinner."

She placed her hand on Greyson's shoulder. "It'll be fine. Maybe it's j-just a dog?"

Greyson shrugged, sighing. He wondered why he'd even been IN the woman's will at all.

"N-now move. I'm cooking."

Greyson smiled playfully back, bumping his hip to Sasha's, and left. He found Nyla rifling through the rest of the mail.

"Are you sure that's all they sent you?"

"Unfortunately."

Nyla huffed, letting the letters smack against her skirt. "Why couldn't they have had a lawyer write to us or something? Anything to save a dime, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be preparing for!"

"We can run to a pet store the day it gets here. If not, a night in the garage won't kill it," Greyson assured. Also, wasn't HE supposed to be the one preparing? He set his hand on her shoulder. "You worry too much."

"I worry exactly the right amount, thank you," Nyla said, whapping him with the mail. As she walked towards her office, she called out, "Lilah, you'd better have put those in the hamper!"

"Does it bring you joy to endlessly nag?!"

"I live in a house with four other people!"

Greyson chuckled. He was also probably overthinking this. It was weird, and definitely unexpected, but it would all be fine.

--

That was a human person.

Tall, with choppily short hair, kneeling in their front entryway between Evan and Lilah's running shoes and the narrow side table Nyla used for mail and key rings.

That was a human person.

They all looked to each other, wondering what to do, and this was technically Greyson's problem, which meant he was the one who should do something about this. Why. Why this. Why him?!?!

When it became undeniably obvious that the other four were waiting on him and the silence was stiflingly uncomfortable, Greyson cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"Hello?" He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question.

"Hello master," the slave returned, skirt fisted with shaking knuckles.

"I am Greyson," he cleared his throat again, "What's your name?"

"...Galo."

Oh Greyson was so out of his depth.

"So uh, you're Bethany's pet? Ex pet?" Evan asked, and Greyson was relieved someone else had said something.

"Yes master."

"This is weird," Lilah stated, shifting anxiously from foot to foot with jittery energy. "This is fucking weird. Why did your ex girlfriend give you a slave? Why were you dating someone who likes slavery?! Greyson what the fuck!"

"Okay deep breaths!" Nyla ordered loudly, everyone complying instantly. "This is. Unexpected," she agreed. "But let's not get out of hand. Galo, sweetie, would you please stand up?"

"Yes mistress."

"You don't need to call anyone master or mistress."

"Ma'am?"

"Ma'am is fine. Let's get you settled in. You can probably stay in Sasha's room at the moment, who'll sleep with me?"

Sasha nodded.

"Okay, good. Are these all of your belongings?" Nyla asked, gesturing at Galo's duffle bag, who nodded again.

"Okay, great. This way."

Greyson was so, so grateful to know Nyla. So glad she was in his life. Her competence was unparalleled.

"I-I'm going to make d-dinner."

--

Galo followed his mistress, who he wasn't going to call mistress, to a baby blue room with impressionist paintings hung from the walls, leaned up against each other, stacked against the desk and dresser. Canvases were just about everywhere, but it didn't seem messy. Just full.

"This is Sasha's room but you can stay here until we figure all this out. Oh! My name is Nyla, sorry, I spaced on that, we'll get you introduced to everyone properly once... once we settle down."

Galo bowed, hand crossed over his chest.

"This is just a little unexpected. We hadn't known you were--human."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

"No, no, no need to apologize. Just some information lost in the pipeline. Why don't you settle in and... we'll chat more at supper."

His mistress left, closing the door behind her, and Galo was left standing in the center of a room that wasn't his.

He took a shaky breath. Well. They'd accepted his name, at least, which was nice. Maybe someday he'd tell them about... him being a man. Maybe. Definitely going to wait and see on that one, he wasn't interested in a repeat of what had happened last time he'd told an owner he was a man.

There were five of them.

Galo sank to his knees, duffle bag hitting the floor, his hands covering his mouth. There were five of them.

He was a fairly gigantic failure at keeping one owner off his back, how was he ever going to please five?!? And the little one had been so angry with his presence--he would have to show his gratitude to Mistress Nyla, later, for stepping in.

Oh god, what would they use him for? This house was no estate--maybe they would just have him clean. Yeah, maybe, maybe he could just clean for them and stick to the shadows and he would be ignored.

A hysteric peal of laughter bubbled out of him.

Ignored.

Yeah, right.

--

But for some reason, that... did seem to be the case. They ignored him. Mistress Sasha and Master Evan especially seemed to have no idea what to do with him, and would awkwardly prompt him to leave them alone if he guessed their routines wrong and ended up in the same room as them.

Master Greyson made earnest attempts to speak with him, which Galo responded to as best he could. But the conversations were stilted things. The most successful ones hinged around Mistress Bethany, and Galo always found himself stressed and exhausted after talking about her.

Mistress Lilah seemed to find him a curiosity, asking him questions and prodding him into helping her with her "Influencer Gig," which mostly involved holding light sources or cameras for her. She would occasionally do up Galo's hair and makeup, and Galo tried very, very hard not to show how miserable that made him. To smile and be grateful and not waste her product and time with babyish tears.

Mistress Nyla was his favorite. She had him help with the household chores and spoke kindly to him. She would praise and sometimes touch him. Conversations with her were... trickier, though.

Mistress Nyla has a very good memory. She would ask questions, know things he'd told Master Greyson or Mistress Lilah, gently pull his life's story from him. She would sometimes make him ask uncomfortable questions about himself, too, about his place as a slave, which--he knew better. He knew better!

She would stop, when he started shaking, though. Ask him to please go clean the kitchen or bathroom or fold laundry. It made him feel weak. A useless, manipulative slave who cried to get out of situations he didn't like.

"It's okay, Galo," she sometimes murmured, petting his hair and letting him kneel at her feet with his head in her lap. "You're being good for us. It's alright sweetie."

--

Master Evan didn't like talking to Galo. So he knew better. But one day, a couple friends of Master Evan's had come and gone, and one of them--

Not that Galo wanted to assume, or presume, but she'd. She had looked.

"Yeah, she's trans," Master Evan confirmed, looking desperately uncomfortable. Galo would find a way to apologize later. He just. He had to. He.

"And that's okay?" he blurted gracelessly, instinctively flinching back for two reasons.

"Yeah? I mean, yes, absolutely, I respect and support her 100%."

Galo fidgeted with his skirt, something Mistress Bethany had bought that he wanted little more than to burn.

"Are... do you, wanna tell me something?" Master Evan asked, also not making eye contact. "Or, maybe tell Nyla something, since I dunno if I'm really the guy to, uh." He gestured at himself and Galo bit his lip.

"The others are also, okay with, uh?"

"Being trans. Yes. It's not bad... bro? We're all chill and respectful here. Oh you know Sasha? Sasha's like, super smart, and knows all about this stuff, she could talk to you about this?"

"Yes sir," Galo said, knowing he'd overstayed his welcome the moment he'd opened his mouth.

"Cool. Chill. Yeah. Okay then," Master Evan said, and left the room quickly.

--

That night Galo had found a pair of Master Evan's sweatpants and a couple of old t-shirts on his bed.

--

The next time Lilah pulled Galo to help with her Influencer Gig, she'd done his makeup and hair and he had cried, to see a man who looked like him staring back from the mirror.

--

Mistress Nyla took him shopping. She held his hand, both literally and metaphorically, with increasing frequency as he started to transition and actually began to feel like this new house was his home. That these people weren't going to hurt him, that they maybe even liked him. Almost.

--

Mistress Sasha had him help her move her remaining belongings from the blue room. His room. They were, officially and permanently, making her old room his. Her paintings were either hung up throughout the rest of the house or set into storage in the garage. He helped her carry whatever else was left into Mistress Nyla's--now hers and Mistress Sasha's--room and organize so Mistress Nyla didn't work herself into a fit over the clutter.

"Thank you," he said quietly, crouched in front of the dresser and slipping some of Mistress Sasha's less-used attire into the drawers.

"Hm?"

"For, giving me your space, ma'am." For everything. For all of it.

Mistress Sasha crossed over to him and sat in the floor where he was, opening her arms to him. He leaned in, slowly wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face to her shoulder.

"You're part of the f-family now," she said warmly. "Of c-course."

[transmascdeanwinchester]

You got any trans man dean headcanons? 👀

I don’t know when u sent this so sorry if I’m answering late!!!

Also I just have the basic bitch set of trans dean headcanons tbh but they make me go feral so I will repeat them!!

- lazurus rising when cas brought dean back he put him in the body he’s always deserved (the mirror scene lives in my head rent free baby!)

- teenage dean stealing testosterone from hospitals and pharmacies when he had the chance bc they moved around too much for him to have a stable prescription pickup plan

- John being pissed for awhile that dean’s not his “perfect little girl” like he thought but getting over it bc dean is so determined to emulate him to prove his masculinity that it just makes him a better more fierce hunter and protector so John gets over it in like a year (Dean’s always been Like That anyway,,, in the grand scheme of things it’s less Distracting to have this small ongoing conflict that John just calls him Dean and does the passive aggressive “you wanna be a man? Act like it.” bullshit you know how it goes)

- Dean knowing he’s not a girl from a young age (like probably about 6) and teaches Sam to call him Dean and that he’s his brother from the time sammy can talk (Sam doesn’t learn Dean’s name is legally Deanna until he’s starting middle school)

- Dean binding in his teens by wearing those tank tops that are like skin tight but also stretchy material? With the built in bra part? he wears two of those under all the Normal Winchester layers and it gives him the flat chest (what isn’t flattened completely gets lost under his dad’s leather jacket he wears to school every day)

- it goes without saying but Dean, age 7, cut his hair for the first time in a shitty hotel bathroom mirror by trying to copy a dude in a shaving ad in a magazine (John didn’t even notice for three days)

- Dean gets top surgery after sam goes to Stanford when he’s supposed to be on a solo hunt (he tells John he’s hunting something but really he’s recovering at Bobby’s)

- Bobby, we are not surprised, is a good father figure and shut that shit down when dean explains that he’s just gonna hole up in a motel once he gets his surgery (“Boy, do you know how fucking dirty motel linens are? I am NOT letting you die from an infection and most certainly not leaving you Alone for months defenseless”)

- Dean using makeup to make his jawline a little sharper and more square even tho the iffy food situation growing up made sure he barely has any roundness to his face to begin with

- on the flip side dean playing up his fem features to use as a distraction when he hustles pool

- dean training his voice by trying to copy the sound of his favorite singers voices (and John since he hears his voice most consistently)

- dean knocking the shit out of transphobes (the comments don’t even have to be directed at him, he hears them and it’s ON SIGHT no question)

- dean acting like a womanizer bc that’s what Men Do and it’s all just literally part of his carefully constructed hyper masculine image bc it’s so so difficult to pick up anyone when what’s under theclothes don’t match what can be seen on the surface (Cassie is the first person he sleeps with and he’s so terrified but she doesn’t care holy shit she doesn’t care?)

- Dean chooses to keep his name close to his birth name bc that’s the name his mother gave him and he doesn’t want to disrespect her by completely changing it

- On the topic of dean’s hyper masculine image he constructs it from a mix of John and from the action movies he studies religiously when he has the chance (this is what boys like this is what every man dreams of being I have to like this too-) even tho he has enough action and violence in his actual life thanks,

- Dean not being big on faith because he can’t imagine some higher power choosing to make him be born in the wrong body and make him work so hard to fix it himself like life wasn’t hard Enough

- Dean being so immensely pleased when word gets around the monster worlds about the Winchester Brothers,,, the validity of your reputation being cemented in the way you’ve carefully crafted it to be

- Dean rationalizing that it’s okay for him to spend time and energy on making sure he’s presenting masc and getting the body language and mannerisms down because it helps him be better at his jobs as protector of his family and as a hunter (men are thought of as stronger/scarier, men are taken more seriously when interviewing locals/victim’s families, more authority is afforded to men)

- dean almost shooting a man in a bar bathroom when he’s fourteen and just needed to deal with shark week stuff real quickly but this drunk decided a “teenage girlie only has one use in a men’s bathroom” but dean just knocks him out and sprints back to the motel (dean doesn’t use public bathrooms after that if he can help it)

- dean not knowing the word transgender until he finds it in a library book while he’s supposed to be researching but really he’d heard the slur and needed to be clear on why it made him feel so icky so he was looking it up in the dictionary and he’s like Oh that’s Me

- Bobby doesn’t actually meet Sam and Dean until after Dean’s cut his hair for the first time and Sammy can only say half words (most Dee, which is good enough for Dean) so one of Dean’s first impressions of Bobby is him asking John “didn’t you have a daughter?” and John just giving a tired sigh because he’s too busy with the hunt he’s here for to try and get into it but Dean butts in with “No, he’s always had two boys, I’m Dean and this is Sammy” and Bobby doesn’t comment on this little high pitched voice or question it much because he’s babysitting this kid for the next two weeks and he doesn’t want it to be a hostile two weeks (and it never becomes a problem because by the end of week one Bobby never even entertains the idea that Dean isn’t a little boy)

- After Dean gets back from Hell literally the only thing that trips Sam and Bobby up (aside from that he just resurrected lmao) is that his shoulders are more squared and he’s just built more like he should be (see previous point about cas rebuilding him as he should’ve been!)

- Dean never having much money but he still donates to queer charities when he can (makes a point of it in June especially)

- Dean hangs a trans flag in his room at the bunker (and one in the dean cave too)

- The insane validation Dean feels at being called The Rifhteous Man (also the fact that Heaven Knew he was a man all along but didn’t lift a finger to make that any easier to show the rest of the world adds to dean’s general hatred towards them tho)

That’s all I can think of right now but just!! Trans Dean!!!!

Thank u for asking friend!!!

(@bowie-boy I am tagging u bc idk if u will see this post so hope that’s okay!!!)

[haltyoubillowychickenwing]

Kaitlin Bennett and Liberty Hangout

Kaitlin Bennett is considered the internet’s most hated conservative, lets talk about why.

Bennett Is a twenty-five-year-old white cisgender heterosexual female who is a strict catholic. She rose to fame in 2018 when her graduation photo included an AR-10 rifle. This was a means of activism and advocating for her rights to bare arms.

She gets clout and content from infiltrating spaces that are meant for activists who happen to have different beliefs than her. She interviews them and posts said interviews on youtube and on her website. I watch these videos and feel great shame for the amount of politically uneducated people. However, I doubt that they accurately represent the intelligence of the left due to editing.

In this photo, she is dressed as Elizabeth Warren, a woman who ran for president in the 2016 election. Bennett is joined by a black man dressed as a white cowboy. To explain Bennett’s costume, Warren had lied about being native american to get a scholarship for college. They ask, “if my costume is not okay, then what makes what Warren did ok?”

Bennett was using this controversial costume to make a point. I am white so I don’t know wether this would be offensive to native americans though I can say I wouldnt consider this cultural appropriation because it is not Bennett adopting the culture of native americans. This does, however, feed into the stereotypes and generalization of native americans, which is something Warren did not do. Regardless, Bennett’s action is a strong method of raising awareness for the injustice Elizabeth Warren has done for the native american people.

The black man’s name is Joel Patrick and he uses his costume to ask if it’s offensive to white people. His costume includes white powder with light foundation for makeup, and a stereotypical cowboy outfit. Theres a point in the video where Patrick asks a white woman if his costume is offensive. The woman says it would be different if it was a white person doing blackface. When asked why, the woman refers to white privilege and how her ethnicity has not faced the issues other ethnicities have. How I would put it is the depiction isn’t offensive because it doesn’t depict white people in a bad way. At the beginning of the video. Patrick introduces himself as Tom, Woody from Toy Story’s grandfather in non-negative way. This is not a canon character, however, it does draw the line between what I would consider a good reason to portray oneself as a race that is not their own and a bad one. If Patrick was dressed as any cowboy, things would be different. This is because it implies that all cowboys are white or that only white people can be cowboys.

This next picture is what really gets me though.

These are her “Columbus Day” twitter posts. Take a look.

These are screenshots from Bennett’s twitter page about how she celebrates “Columbus Day”. One thanks Christopher Columbus for civilizing the west, and the other shows her wearing some native american inspired makeup. I dont feel comfortable speaking out about the makeup since i’m not a native american but I can certainly mention the horrific depiction of native americans. It nearly compares them to animals that needed to be tamed. It is so unfortunate that she cant see the damage colonizers caused or the civility of native americans.

Next I’d like to talk about her twitter specifically the concept of her having a twitter page and what she uses it for. Through her tweets she has made it clear that she does not believe masks help us, that she does not believe she should get the covid vaccine, that she believes pride is about broadcasting gay sex to children, and that a case in which a white woman was killed by the police should’ve been as big of a deal as the death of George Floyd.

Bennett does not believe trans people exist. She believes only in XY or XX chromosomes. She also fails to recognize the possibility of someone being intersex. She refers to crocheted packers (for ftm trans kids) as something to “shove down that pants of an innocent young girl to make it look like she has a penis bulge” while there have been tweets about this specific size of packer and how it seems to be for infants (it is smaller than a chapstick), i’d like to argue a point of if a child is wearing a diaper, it wouldnt serve its supposed purpose. If I knew I was trans as a kid, I would’ve loved to have one of these as a reminder that even though I look like a girl, I’m a boy and I have a penis. If your child can understand the concept of being transgender, then they can understand if they’re transgender or questioning. It hurts me to see someone so concerned about livelihood of youth be so ignorant of one major cause of suicide all over the world.

She seems to have something against all liberals and somehow still calls them snowflakes. Her ignorance disturbs me. I feel bad for her and her stereotypical 50s household where she doesn’t cook and clean because she wants to, but because she thinks it’ll make for a stable household. Her views on women and how she calls herself a feminist is disappointing too. Maybe Ill add to this post tmr if it gets a lot of notes, but for now, please see my sources and visit these websites.

*the videos wont link properly so just search ‘college students have no morals’ on youtube for the video where Bennett desides that college student have no morals because they support trans people, ‘Elizabeth Warren goes to college’ on youtube for the elizabeth warren video, and ‘what the heck is this liberty’ on youtube for the packer video (all on her youtube channel, liberty hangout)*

Liberty Hangout on Youtube

Joel Patrick on Twitter

Kaitlin Bennett on Twitter (links are broken, ill fix later)

[midnight-heroes]

hey! i just read your ftm headcannons with bakugo and i really liked them! they helped me out a lot. i was wondering if you could do another ftm dysphoria headcannon for dabi, todoroki, and toga? :)) thank you!

//It seriously makes me to happy to hear that, considering I know next to nothing about how those with dysphoria may feel. The closest I feel I can relate, is not feeling comfortable in my own skin because of my appearance, so to not feel ‘right’ in your own body because you feel as if your body isn’t the body you were supposed to be born with, must feel absolutely awful and I hate to think- no- know. I hate to know that there are people out there who feel this way. So if me writing something short and kind of inaccurate helps in any way, then I hope I can continue to help.

Dabi

Dabi is a man who knows what it’s like to ‘not belong’ in a sense. In a different sense of course. He didn’t belong in a place so he got out of there. You’re a whole different situation though.

You’re stuck in a body you feel you don’t belong in and you can’t escape that without taking the necessary steps which can be quite daunting. 

There isn’t much Dabi can do for you, considering it’s not like he can kidnap you from your own body. If it was a house, sure, he’d take you away and make sure you never look back but your body was your body. There’s nothing he could do about that.

So what he does do, is ask questions. He doesn’t care for the most part. You feel however you feel for a reason right? You’re allowed to feel that way but if it’s bothering you, then he’ll ask what he can do to help.

Call you by your preferred pronouns? Sure, he called you babe most of the time anyway. 

Hey, didn’t he have a girlfriend last week?

Nah, he’s only ever had a boyfriend, what are they talking about?

If you don’t want him touching certain parts of your body due to you not liking those parts, he’s gonna be a little bummed out but it’s your body, your rules, so okay.

I don’t see him as too much of a cuddle bug but I don’t think he would mind holding you if you’re just needing to be held. 

I think that’s all he’d really be able to do for you when you’re struggling with your dysphoria. He’ll hold you and change some things about how he speaks and treats you but he won’t be too good at talking about it. All the same though, he is trying and sometimes, you gotta take what you can get.

On a different note though- he would suggest you get the surgeries done to make you more comfortable in your own body. He won’t be able to get you into an actual hospital with a legal surgeon but he knew a few really good underground doctors who he figured would be able to help if you’re brave enough to take that route.

Shoto Todoroki

I feel like Todoroki is a little more aware of this kind of stuff than he gives off. 

Being a teenager in this day and age, and in hanging out with the people he does, he is probably very aware of the LGBTQ+ community, which means he’s heard about the struggles that could and usually do come with being transgender. 

Of course he is no expert though. Once he finds out that you’re a trans male, he’ll accept it but will be sure to ask questions as to what that means to you, for him and for your relationship. 

He’ll use the pronouns you’re comfortable with, with treat you however you’re most comfortable- which is what he did anyway and so on, so forth.

He’ll even ask people like Mina- who I believe is very aware of these kinds of things, and would do his own research, online, through reading and asking doctors occasionally when he goes to visit his mother. 

When you are struggling with your dysphoria however, Todoroki isn’t going to know what to do. He’ll be awkward and struggle to comfort you if that’s what you’re looking for. 

He will go for the default form of comfort, that he would normally use for other issues, which would be holding you, but if that’s not what you’re after, you’re going to have to tell him. 

He’ll gradually learn how to comfort you, he’ll learn the right things to say, to make you feel better, he’ll figure out all your little needs and your big needs.

He gets better at this the longer the two of your are together and as adults, I’d say that’s where he would help you take the next step if that’s what you are wanting to do.

Himiko Toga

Toga is also very aware of transgender people, and that’s thanks to Magne!

From the moment she met the woman, she was on her, asking all kinds of questions, wanting to learn about her, how she came to this point in her life and then taking it all on to treat her the way she wanted to be treated, and that is as an ass kicking woman. 

So when she met you, someone who was clearly very uncomfortable in their own skin, she was suspicious from the start. 

She figured you were transgender before you even told her, but once you told her, that was when she could finally openly start treating you the way she’s been wanting to.

Toga is crazy, we all know this and she does what she wants, when she wants, but she was holding back because of what she had learned from Magne and wanted to wait until you were comfortable with her knowing. 

So she has no issues with switching to calling you by your preferred pronouns, treating you like the handsome man you are and all that.

When you’re feeling down and heavily dysphoric, she’ll step up her game a bit. 

She’ll cuddle, talk, sit in silence, listen, whatever you want.

What she loves doing however, is giving you a makeover, or a ‘man-over’. No makeup involved. I’m talking a new outfit of your liking, a haircut if that’s what you’d like, ‘buy’ you some new cologne, etc. Just things that may help you feel more like a man and perhaps just a little more comfortable, even if it’s only for a short period of time. If it helps, she’ll go through with it.

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Farewell Wanderlust and Gender: an Incomplete Analysis

Okay a thing I really dig in Farewell Wanderlust is this section that Joey sings:

I’m the face that stares back when the screen goes to black

When your mum says ‘you look healthy’ but you know she means you got fat

I’m the tales that the guests will applaud and believe

I’m the child that you just didn’t have time to conceive

I promise you I’m not broken

I promise you there’s more

More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light

Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night

This here isn’t make up, it’s a porcelain tomb

This here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

And I think partly it's because these are not necessarily sentiments you often hear from cis men? Which, I know, he starts his part singing "she said", so he's clearly meaning to take up the (same?) female role from the earlier part of the song, but it's still a voice we read as masculine doing the part, we still know it's Joey... And if it was just the makeup line, like, okay, some men wear makeup, esp performers/actors etc.

And the comment about your mom noticing your weight, yeah, definitely men get that shit too... But we're starting to stray into territory that is more familiar, or at least more familiarly portrayed, as being shit cis women have to deal with.

But him practically yelling, or growling, in frustration on

the child that you just didn't have time to conceive

followed Immediately by

I promise you, I'm not broken, I promise you, there's more. More to come. More to reach for..."

Again, I am sure there are cis men who get nagged and shamed for not reproducing, but that sentiment, the way it's phrased, followed by "I'm not broken" just reeks of every cis woman who ever dared to do something other than have kids in her early-mid 20s, in a family like that. Whether for career/financial reasons, or because she wanted kids, but wouldn't settle for less than a really compatible partner and hadn’t happened to meet one yet, or Literally Any Reason and she's at that family get together and all the fucking aunties are twittering away about how she's running out of time, wasting her life/opportunity for family, not filling the role she ought, what's wrong with her? And whether she wants kids eventually, and Really just hasn't had time/reached that point yet, or she Doesn't, and this Is The Plan, Fuck You, I Am Not Broken, maybe this Is How I Want It and it's NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS what my life looks like... !!!

And so to hear a voice we perceive as male express those sentiments, that frustration, it's deeply different and satisfying in a way that is distinct from if Madeline were singing those lines. Those things would still be true, the lines are I think technically still coming from the same character...

But honestly, for me, that switch, him delivering that section in particular, gives me, personally, Big Trans Vibes.

So long to the person you begged me to be

S/He’s down. S/He’s dead.

Now take a long look at what you’ve done to me?

The singer doesn't have to be FtM necessarily, plenty of room for a non-binary reading, and plenty of just general Queer sentiment (the concept of "queer time" comes to mind here-- in brief, the idea that for lots of folk under that umbrella, because it often takes them longer to sort their personal desires/presentations/identities out than it does more cis/het/allo folks, they often experience a 5-10 year [varies significantly, I'm pulling those numbers out of thin air and personal experience] "delay" in hitting life stages that said cis/het/allo folk would. Steve and Melissa might be high school sweethearts, or meet in college, and get hitched and be having kids in their 20s, But Skylar, say, didn't start dating dudes as a dude until he was 25, so if it takes him five or more years to date around (and around a smaller pool, probs) and find a good partner, he won't be ready to start working on kids until at least his early thirties, and depending on the ways in which his and his partner's reproductive situation are or are not compatible for the Making of Children, it can take them even longer to unlock the Nuclear Family skin-- assuming that's even something they are interested in! Life stages at really different ages; queer time).

So yeah, it was really easy for me to drop a trans lens on this one: he's at this gathering, a wedding or whatever, and maybe he's newly out presenting as male, or maybe he's been this way, been presenting this way, for a goddamn decade, and that does not fucking stop the people who continue to approach him as though he was still the girl they thought they knew. And so he's still getting all the misogynist bulshit, the hetero/cisnormative expectation that “she, oh my goodness oops, *giggle* he” really would be happy if she he would just give up all the queer stuff, or career stuff, and maybe put a little more care into her his appearance, and then she he would be able to find a husband already and get down to the respectable business of producing and raising children!

And maybe he wants kids, he literally just hasn't had time between capitalism and going through a second effing puberty, what do you want Linda, I'm not broken, I am absolutely the person I am supposed to be and I have So Much Time and future in front of me still precisely because of how shit the last few years have been, how hard I've had to work, how bold I've had to be. Have you ever completely up-ended your life and risked burning every bridge you've ever known in order to be the healthiest/happiest version of yourself in your control? No? Then Fuck. Off. Linda. And farewell.

[jaxsteamblog]

Avatar Thuy

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

“Spirits, I should never have asked you.” Thuy muttered as she rounded another corner.

“It’s not my fault you can’t follow directions.” His tone was so irritating, Thuy had to stop, squeeze her eyes shut, and count to ten.

“Kuruk. You haven’t been GIVING me directions!” Thuy hissed.

“I told you to take a left after the scholar’s hall.” Kuruk snapped in reply.

“It was just another empty room. They’re all empty rooms!” Thuy shouted in exasperation. With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“It’s really not that hard.” Kuruk said sullenly.

“I’ve never been to the North Pole before.” Thuy said.

“No. Because you were born in a swamp.” Kuruk snorted and Thuy felt her shoulders fall as her anger left her in a rush.

“A swamp. The most powerful Waterbender since me is born in a disgusting-”

“You mean since Master Katara.” Thuy interrupted, now continuing down the hall.

“Excuse me?” Kuruk asked, his voice dripping with disdain. Thuy smiled to herself.

“Master Katara surpassed you when she was my age, and you were the Avatar.” She said.

“That girl-”

“-is twice the Bender you were, yes.” Thuy finished for him. “It’s a good thing you were the Avatar because you certainly weren’t going to make a name for yourself as a Waterbender.”

“Why you-”

“Goodbye Kuruk.” Thuy said sharply before severing her connection.

It had been nice as a child when she talked to Aang. He had been a grandfather and was very easy to talk to. Thuy wasn’t overly fond of Roku, but that was mostly because he was a bit stiff. Kyoshi was fantastic, which made it all the worse when Kuruk turned out to be so. Bad.

Still feeling smug, Thuy meandered for a bit longer in the halls. It was a long standing habit that when it got a little too people-y, she’d disappear. But this wasn’t the Swamp, where she could never get lost. The North Pole palace was just a series of buildings erupting from the ice around the important open spaces, like the dining hall. All she needed was a quiet space to process things, but so far every room she found was too big.

And she really didn’t want to be found before she was ready.

It had been her choice to come forward, and she told her parents she was fine leaving the Swamp for this debut, but nothing had been fine. Being so far from her roots made her feel raw and exposed. Plus, finally meeting her heroes in the flesh did not go as well as she had hoped.

Sadness drowned out her smug pride as Thuy recalled Katara’s stony look when they were introduced. Zuko had been much kinder, but in a polite, political sort of way. And Katara had been the one Thuy wanted to meet the most; seeing her so cold was like grabbing the blade of a knife.

“Avatar Thuy?” A voice called out in stunned surprise.

With a jump, Thuy turned around. It was one of the Kyoshi Warriors.

“Oh, um, Suki?” Thuy asked, trying to remember her name. The smile told her she was right.

“Were you looking for something?” Suki asked as she got closer.

“No.” Thuy said, shaking her head. “I just needed to take a break.”

Suki examined her for a second and then gave her a softer smile.

“Well, we’re close to my room. Come on.” She said.

Thuy looked at her in alarm. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m a Kyoshi Warrior after all, so how could I offer anything else?” Suki replied lightly.

Thuy looked down, tugging on her parka.

“I’m not…” She said quietly, her voice fading into nothing.

“But you are.” Suki said firmly, putting her hand on Thuy’s shoulder. As Thuy looked up, Suki gestured with a tilt of her head.

“Come on.” She said. Leading the way, Suki guided Thuy further down the hall and into a room. It was small, as most of the common sleeping quarters were, but it was still well decorated. When they walked in, a vent somewhere in the ceiling clicked on and Thuy felt a cloud of warm air fall down the back of her neck.

“I don’t know how it all stays frozen.” Thuy said.

Suki paused, looking around, and shrugged.

“It must be sea ice. I can’t imagine fresh water holding up this way.” She said.

Thuy stared at one wall, tapping her lip.

“Don’t lick the wall.” Suki said suddenly and Thuy turned quickly.

“I wasn’t!” She blurted and Suki chuckled.

“That’s just the first thing I’d expect Sokka to do.” She replied.

Suki moved around the room and Thuy stood still, watching her. The Kyoshi Warrior was not a very big woman; Thuy was only thirteen and already as tall.

“You know that doesn’t matter.” Kyoshi’s voice rippled up in Thuy’s mind, and she blushed.

“You’re engaged to Sokka, right?” Thuy asked. Suki, stopping at a large wardrobe, nodded.

“Yeah.” She said, sounding wistful, and a smile curled up the corners of her mouth.

“So, do you know Master Katara?” Thuy questioned.

Suki pulled open the doors of the wardrobe and looked over at her.

“Of course. We spent a lot of time together in the war.” She answered. As she leaned into the wardrobe, Thuy looked down, tugging on her parka again.

“Does she hate me?” Thuy asked.

Suki didn’t reply, but Thuy kept her eyes down. She heard the wardrobe shut and felt the air sway as Suki walked back over.

“She doesn’t hate you.” Suki said.

Thuy looked up and saw Suki holding a bunch of green fabric.

“What’s that?” Thuy asked, scrutinizing the fabric.

“They’re your robes.” Suki said, shaking her arms out to get Thuy to take them.

“My robes?” Thuy, stunned, took the robes automatically. They were heavy and Thuy took in a sharp breath.

“There was supposed to be a whole thing.” Suki said, waving a hand dismissively. “But that’s not how we do things.”

“But I haven’t trained!” Thuy said in a panicked rush.

“You are Avatar Kyoshi, so they’re yours by right. If you want to train, I would be happy to make you, Thuy, a Kyoshi Warrior.” Suki replied.

“But I’m.” Thuy choked on her words, gripping the robes tightly. It was too much, and she started to cry.

Suki looked sad as she sighed.

“I know I’m going to say the wrong thing because I’ve never, you know, dealt with something like this before.” She started as Thuy sat down, burying her face in the robes.

Crouching down, Suki put her hand on Thuy’s back, lightly rubbing the space between her shuddering shoulders.

“The Warriors are traditionally a sisterhood, yes, but anybody can wear the robes and wield the fans.” Suki said.

Thuy’s heart broke in her chest and she cried harder. Still, as Suki sat down and gathered Thuy in her arms, she leaned into the embrace.

“But that’s not what I’m trying to say. The point is, the robes don’t care about the shape of the body. You are a woman. You belong in the sisterhood exactly as you are.” Suki continued.

Thuy’s crying lessened, but she remained curled against Suki’s side.

“Is that why you think Katara hates you?” Suki inquired gently.

Thuy shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she slowed her shuddering lungs and pulled away. Unfurling herself, Thuy laid out the robes across her legs before pressing her chilled hands against her hot, puffy face.

“Not a lot of people know that I’m…” Thuy fought against the tightness in her throat. “Trans.”

“I only figured it out because of your animal companion.” Suki said.

Confused, Thuy only looked at Suki, who shrugged before leaning back on her hands.

“Avatar Aang’s companion was a male Sky Bison. Roku’s dragon was male. Kyoshi’s was female. Kuruk’s was male. Yangchen’s was female. Yadda yadda.” Suki said, looking up at the ice ceiling.

“Not a lot of people know that Mister Whiskers is a girl.” Thuy said.

“The girls are smaller and have an even number of spine ridges.”

“How do you know that?”

“I took a single zoology class at a community college once.”

Thuy laughed as Suki rolled her head over to look at her.

“Let’s get you dressed and you can tell me why you think why Katara hates you.” She said.

Thuy looked up in alarm as Suki stood.

“Now?”

“Why not? You’ve got time to kill before your next event.”

Suki helped Thuy disrobe; she simply wasn’t used to all the layers and buttons of the arctic clothing. Seemingly more at ease with it, Suki made quick work of it all. As the cold air hit her skin, Thuy went silent, but Suki didn’t even flinch with curiosity. She only spun out the wide fabric before wrapping Thuy in the heavy expanse of emerald green.

“When you’re all done growing, you might actually fit in Kyoshi’s robes.” Suki remarked as she tied everything up.

“Is that even allowed?” Thuy asked.

“Sure. It’s just cloth. It’s going to rot away at some point anyway, might as well get the Avatar to wear it again.”

“Did Aang not?”

Suki shook her head, focusing on a smaller tie.

“I don’t think he ever wore anything other than his robes.” She answered.

Thuy went quiet as she thought. This was the first time she had actually spoken with the captain of the Kyoshi Warriors and she had already started crying. But then again, it felt like she had known the Warriors all of her life.

“Kyoshi thinks you’re a good leader.” Thuy said.

The robe slackened as Suki lost her hold on the fabric and Thuy winced.

“You talk to her?” Suki asked, her voice muted.

“I can talk to all of them, but it’s easier to speak with Aang since he was right before me.” Thuy said.

“Well. That certainly isn’t daunting.” Suki said with a laugh, finishing her ties.

“A lot of them are nice. Except Kuruk.” Thuy added with a growl in her tone.

“Really? I would have thought-”

“He’s an asshole.” Thuy interrupted.

Suki snorted and moved to the wardrobe.

“Not surprising. I mean, have you talked to some of the people around here?” She asked.

“Sokka and Master Katara are different.” Thuy said.

“Well, they’re from the South Pole.” Suki replied.

“Can you tell me about them?” Thuy questioned.

Suki turned, holding a wooden box, and smiled.

“I’ll be doing your makeup so you won’t be able to talk. I guess I can keep you entertained.” She replied and walked back.

Thuy noticed how Suki moved and was struck by it. For how small and physically feminine Suki was, she still moved with strong, sure steps. She walked like a man that had been trained to move delicately.

Kyoshi had spoken of course about her training. How her mother’s fans had ended up in a man’s hands. How her large feet had traced their own steps through her mother’s faded footprints. There was masculine and feminine in everything a Kyoshi Warrior did. Life was a woman’s gift, and death was a man’s burden, but a Kyoshi Warrior stood as a protector and a fighter. They wore robes like a scholar with their faces painted like the finest courtly dancers that had brushed her father's face. They were never just one thing, because a Warrior had to become one made of many.

Suki gestured for Thuy to kneel on one of the floor cushions and she did so while Suki unpacked the wooden box on a low table.

“I’ll tell you the story of how we first met.” She said, bringing over ancient clay pots and brushes.

~

Suki held her basket low at her hip as she casually looked over the meager items at the stall. From the corner of her eye she marked three other Warriors taking their positions at other stalls. They had been watching this dock for weeks, waiting for the right moment to take one of the ships, but nothing had come in.

The colony here was established purely to support the blockade. It dealt in fuel and rations, not bothering to create anything more human for the inhabitants. A single bar and pavilion served as cultural entertainment, but they were mostly utilized to numb the sailors and broadcast imperial propaganda.

Then they got word that a ship was pulling in to transport prisoners. Two blockade runners, nothing new. A few of those trickled in every season, or so the colonists said.

Hopefully the banality meant that it was a lightly armed ship that was mooring.

But as the figures descended the gangplank, Suki froze.

Water Tribe, their parkas reminding her painfully of home. A young man and woman, close to her own age. Both of them beautiful in their absolute rage.

“Aw, poor things. Probably starving and trying to find some food.” The woman behind the stall remarked.

“The rats should be used to the ice.” A man said, making Suki frown. “They should know better than to mess with the imperial ships.”

“Hush! They’re probably orphans.” The woman remarked sharply.

“And? I heard they leave their babes on the ice to hunt like animals.” The man replied.

“Just this today.” Suki said, taking the woman’s attention as she handed over a couple of coins.

“Thank you dearie.” The woman replied and Suki waved before walking off.

She had to get on that ship.

There was not a lot of cover for the Warriors to hide in around the town. Fire Nation policy was to raze the surrounding area and fortify it, leaving nothing to chance. Outside of the rusting metal walls were the sparse grazing grounds and rocky farms. She and a small clutch of Warriors were sleeping in a barn while the others were further away from the guarded perimeter.

This port was sloppy, which is why Suki had picked it, but it was sloppy because it was difficult to move unseen.

“The captain is staying in town for a few days. He expects summons from the governor.” Ji-won said as Suki sat back in a hay pile.

“And why does he think that?” She asked.

“One of the prisoners he brought in is a Waterbender.” Ji-won said. The other women stilled, their surprise registering quietly in their minds.

Suki frowned.

“The Avatar?” She asked.

“He’s saying so.” Ji-won answered.

“Probably why they’re still alive.” Song interjected.

“Suki, we can’t let them take the Avatar.” Ji-won pressed.

Suki frowned harder but didn’t reply.

“Suki.” Ji-won said and Suki glared at her.

“I know.” She snapped. Then, with a sigh, she rubbed her eyes. “We just don’t have the fans for a full assault.”

“But the Avatar can help us.” Ji-won said, her voice breathy with anticipation.

“We don’t know if the Bender is the Avatar. They could just be a Waterbender.” Suki said, looking pointedly at every woman there.

“But there’s a chance.” Song said softly.

“Avatar Aang died only a few years ago. The Avatar would only be a child, and even the girl looked at least my age.” Suki pointed out.

“If that was Avatar Aang.” Ji-won started and Suki leaned forward, pointing at her.

“Don’t start with that conspiracy. That’s gotten a lot of people killed.” Suki said sharply.

Ji-won looked away and Suki sighed again.

“More importantly, we can’t let another Waterbender die. It’s our job to keep the balance when the Avatar isn’t around.” She went on.

It was an oath they all took. By taking on Kyoshi’s name, by becoming her when they wore the uniform, they swore to uphold her responsibilities as the Avatar. Even lacking any bending ability, they worked to protect the balance as Kyoshi.

“So we rescue them?” Song asked.

“Yes. And we have to move tonight. We don’t know what they’re going to do to them.” Suki said.

“I’ll send a message to the others.” Ji-won said.

“Alright ladies, finish eating then suit up.” Suki said, looking around. “We have a ship to take.”

Knowing that they weren’t going to be leaving through the gate, the Kyoshi Warriors didn’t need to deal much with stealth. The moon was shrouded in clouds and only their white faces barely caught in flood lights lining the wall. The guardhouse on the northern side was lightly manned, so Suki went in and dispatched the few men sleeping inside.

Weeks of observation told her what she needed. What keycards could open doors and which locks could be cut with a fan. The reliance on technology only went so far when the intruders were ready for a fight. Alarms were tripped, but military protocol would be followed. The Fire Nation was nothing if not thorough.

Heading south, the Kyoshi Warriors darted through residential lanes and alleys. A curfew meant they didn’t need to hide from a crowd, but it did mean that the streets were monitored.

Still, it was a cloudy night and this was a sloppy port.

The actual jail was a bit trickier. Suki didn’t have a layout of the building, having made it a point not to get arrested.

But all she had to do was get in.

All of the windows of the low building were barred and there were only two doors. The back was sealed off; the only latch being on the interior side.

Taking their positions across the street, hiding in the padded shadows, Suki examined the front door. The one small window at the front was illuminated with bright fluorescent light. There was nothing to signal that anyone knew about the dead guards in the north, or that they were leaving to attend to it.

“I need a bucket of water.” Suki said. A Warrior disappeared without a word and the others waited.

“We push our way in and get the water as far back as possible. There should only be holding cells, and if we get the water to the Bender, we might be able to do this.” Suki explained.

“Wouldn’t there be the plumbing?” A Warrior asked.

“We should assume they’ve turned off the water.” Suki replied.

The sound of sloshing water came up to her side and Suki took a deep breath.

“Go.” She said.

And they went.

Front door was a bottleneck and Suki went first. Fans blocked the first assault of fire but the guns were certainly next. One fan left her hand and caught a guard in his neck. Disarming was not an option tonight.

The others broke in behind her, sweeping out to encompass the few in the lobby. A klaxon went off and the lights snapped off, with the low emergency floor lights coming on shortly after. The noise became a metronome and the Warriors pushed forward. The water bucket was tossed like a ball, playing keep away from the armed guards. Suki was able to retrieve her stained fan and she sliced open the lock to the back room.

It was a small building and they quickly filled the space. Three holding cells were simple spaces walled with bars.

And the water bucket when tumbling end over end toward them.

Immediately, Suki watched as the young woman gathered the water in her arms like so much washing. A thick whip lashed out at the bars and pieces slid slowly before clattering to the floor.

Ice made quick work of the fight, but then the pair disappeared through the backdoor.

“Don’t lose them!” Suki called out and the Warriors darted out the back door after them.

Marking the wounded, Suki sent them out toward the ship, to watch it and keep it from leaving. Then she went after the Water Tribals.

“Katara, you don’t know where you’re going!” The young man called out in the darkness.

Suki seized on that, running faster to close the distance.

“Please! Let us help!” She yelled recklessly into the darkness.

“Katara, stop!” The young man demanded.

The Waterbender stopped, turning sharply and pulling up a wall of ice spikes, pointed directly at the pursuing Kyoshi Warriors.

“We’re on your side!” Suki said as she pulled up short, skidding on the broken concrete alley.

“Why did you help us?” The young woman, Katara, asked.

“We’re the Kyoshi Warriors, that’s what we’re supposed to do.” Suki said.

“I don’t know what that is.” Katara retorted. “How do I know you’re not one of them?”

“Suki, there’s activity at the harbor.” Ji-won said. “We have to go.”

“Come with us.” Suki pleaded. “We’re taking a ship to fight.”

Katara looked at her companion and he nodded.

“Fine.” Katara said, melting the ice back into water and pulling it around her hands. “Let’s go.”

Having a Waterbender at a harbor proved useful and they took the ship easily. They only had to sail it up a short way to gather the rest of the Warriors before heading into the open sea. As soon as the port left their vision, Katara collapsed on the deck. The young man, who turned out to be her brother, laid her head in his lap.

“Is she?” Suki started cautiously.

“She’s exhausted.” The brother said and then looked up. “I’m Sokka.”

“Suki.”

“Thanks for rescuing us Suki.” Sokka said, turning back to Katara and brushing her hair out of her face. The gesture warmed Suki’s heart and she turned away.

“Of course.” Suki replied curtly.

“Katara is thankful too. She’ll be better in the morning.” Sokka said.

“It must’ve been hard.” Suki commented.

“You have no idea.” Sokka murmured. Something in his tone kept Suki from replying and she only watched them for a moment. Turning away, she went to find the captain’s quarters.

~

“We traveled with them for a few weeks and then separated when we went to go join the Earth Kingdom army.” Suki concluded.

“When did you fall in love with Sokka?” Thuy asked. Suki chuckled as she packed up the box.

“Aren’t you a romantic?” She quipped and Thuy smiled sheepishly.

“Let’s see, I knew I was in love when we were in the Fire Nation. Katara was so different after the North Pole and she hated the Fire Nation, but Sokka was trying to find something human in it all. None of us were happy when he went off with Piandao for training, especially Katara, but it made me realize that there was going to be a life after the war. And I wanted my life to be with him.” Suki explained.

“So will Katara like me eventually?” Thuy asked.

“I think she’ll like you a lot sooner than eventually.” Suki turned and examined her handiwork, nodding with a proud smile.

“I’m going to grab a camera, hold on.” She said and, before Thuy could reply, bolted out of the room.

Thuy sputtered as the door shut and she was alone. Now she really regretted leaving Mister Whiskers back in the heated nest.

“How does it feel?” Kyoshi asked so suddenly that Thuy jumped.

“Heavy.” Thuy remarked and Kyoshi laughed.

“The new recruits often said the same thing.” She said.

“I like Suki.” Thuy said, changing subjects.

“As do I. And she picked a strong partner.” Kyoshi added.

“They all went through a lot.”

“All who serve in war must give everything.”

“And Suki said that the Warriors act in the Avatar’s stead.”

“They do.”

“So what do they need me for?”

“You’re the Avatar.” Kyoshi said matter of factly.

“But what does that even mean anymore? Aang told me about the White Lotus, they don’t even need me for Spirit stuff and I wasn’t needed to end this war!” Thuy balked.

“There will be challenges only the Avatar can face.” Kyoshi stated.

“Or they just get eaten by Spirits.” Thuy muttered.

Kyoshi was silent and Thuy winced.

“Sorry.” She said.

“Yun was a good man, and didn’t deserve Jianzhu’s treachery. Nor did Kuruk deserve his fate.” Kyoshi said evenly.

“He mocked the Spirits!” Thuy retorted.

“If you believe someone can ever do something to deserve ill treatment, does that mean you deserve yours?” Kyoshi asked.

“What?”

“When you begin to believe that all people deserve to be treated well, you will have to face that that includes you.”

“I-” Thuy started but was interrupted as the door opened again.

“Hey Suki.” Sokka greeted as he stepped into the room, pushing the door shut with his foot.

“Actually-” Thuy started, trying to rise but catching herself on the robes.

Sokka’s eyes widened briefly before he threw himself down on the floor cushions next to her.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize anybody had to be in uniform for this.” He said.

“Er.” Thuy stammered, sitting back down and looking away.

“Song?” Sokka asked.

Thuy faced him, confused.

“Shoot. I know you all do your makeup differently, but your’s looks just like Suki’s.” Sokka propped his head up as he laid on his side, tilting his head to examine her face. “But like, a reflection or something.”

“She…” Thuy looked down and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did my makeup.”

“Oh you’re one of the new warriors!” Sokka pushed himself up quickly.

“I’m not-” Thuy held up her hands in alarm but Sokka made a dismissive sound and waved her away.

“Sorry about barging in here. I was just looking for Suki; do you know where she is?” He asked.

“She went to get a camera.” Thuy said softly.

“Oh wow! Is this your first time all done up?” Sokka asked and clapped as Thuy nodded.

“Congratulations!” He said enthusiastically and Thuy felt her cheeks burn.

“Are you excited about meeting the Avatar?” He asked.

“I really wanted to meet Master Katara.” Thuy said.

“Her? Why?” Sokka asked incredulously.

Thuy held her hands together and leaned forward excitedly.

“Master Katara is the most amazing Waterbender in our history! She saved the world. Well,” Thuy caught herself and sat back. “So did you.”

“Are you a Water Tribal?” Sokka asked curiously. Thuy shook her head vigorously.

“I’m from the Swamp.” She said.

“Oh, so you probably already know the Avatar.”

“We’re, acquainted.”

“Well my sister is pretty great, but she’s also a massive grump.”

“No!” Thuy said sharply and Sokka’s eyes widened. “Master Katara is an amazing warrior and I’m sure she’s just very serious.”

“Serious?” Sokka laughed and Thuy frowned in confusion.

“Katara can’t let herself enjoy anything or else she would implode.” Sokka stated. As Thuy deflated, Sokka sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t want to tarnish your idea of her or anything, but Katara despises hero worship. Neither of us wanted to be heroes.” Sokka explained, holding the back of his neck and looking off in some distant memory.

“She’s really kind, though. When we lost our mother, I thought she’d never be happy again.” He went on.

“If the Avatar had shown up earlier-” Thuy stopped as Sokka scoffed. He reclined again, idly scratching his leg.

“And what? We toss a toddler at the Fire Lord? You seem to be around the same age as the Avatar and I still wouldn’t let you get within sight of that creep.” He said and finished quickly. “No offense.”

Thuy remembered her meeting with the Fire Lord and shuddered. She did not like him, or his daughter. But at least Zuko was polite.

“See?” Sokka said. “Katara wants to blame the Avatar because it’s easy. She doesn’t want to meet her because she knows when she does, the Avatar will be real and she’ll know it wasn’t her fault.”

“Maybe she’s right.” Thuy said.

“Come on know, aren’t you two kin? That’s no way to talk about the Avatar. I think she’s a nice girl.” Sokka said and Thuy lowered her head.

“So will Master Katara meet with,” Thuy cut off her words. “With the Avatar?”

“We’ve got dinner tonight don’t we?” Sokka asked and Thuy looked up.

“Katara doesn’t have it in her to hate good people. Especially not other Waterbenders. I think once they start talking, it’ll be fine.” He said.

“What would Master Katara even talk about?” Thuy asked nervously.

Sokka shrugged. “Probably Zuko.”

“They do go off together a lot.” Thuy remarked.

“That’s what girls do with their boyfriends.” Sokka said.

“What do girls do with their boyfriends?” Suki asked and Thuy leaned back.

“Disappear for some diplomatic briefing.” Sokka answered.

“Oh, are we talking about your sister and Zuko?” Suki questioned, sounding giddy as she sat down next to Thuy.

“Who else?” Sokka quipped.

“Who knew the Avatar was a gossip?” Suki elbowed Thuy and she felt a jolt of fear. Sokka only smiled, winking casually at her.

“Avatar Thuy was trying to argue that Katara wasn’t a grump.” He said. Thuy relaxed and felt tears sprout in her eyes.

“Oh she totally is. That’s why she and Zuko work so well.” Suki said.

“Zuko is not a grump, he’s refined.” Sokka countered.

“Zuko is a little bitch.” Another voice said from the door and Thuy shrank. Seeing Rohan, she tried to calm down.

“Hey, that’s the Avatar’s great-grandson or something.” Sokka said and Rohan rolled their eyes.

Roku, from somewhere deep in Thuy’s mind, grumbled.

“Is there something you need Rohan?” Suki asked.

“I wanted to see if Thuy was up for some ice shenanigans.” Rohan asked.

“Let me take a picture really quick.” Suki said, holding up a fancy camera.

“Allow me.” Rohan said, swirling their hand. The camera lifted and Suki shook her head, but still smiled.

“Okay, everyone get together.” Rohan said. Sokka and Suki got up and pushed themselves over to flank Thuy. Rohan set up the camera and then left it floating in the air.

Darting forward, the Airbender laid across all of their laps and the shutter snapped audibly as Thuy burst out laughing.

“Rohan! The camera!” Suki called.

“I got it.” Rohan said, rolling off and holding out their hands. As they and Suki examined the picture, Sokka nudged Thuy with his shoulder.

“Just be happy Thuy.” He whispered. “It’s what we fought for.”

Thuy nodded, smiling.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

[fake-wizard]

How did you become a trans terf? This is really interesting!

Thank you for this question because I can now delay watching my lectures for like 30 min. 

I got tumblr my freshman year, started my deep dive into the realm of tumblr’s lgbtqianpd+++ stuff. I did a bunch of ace discourse as an “inclusionist” then as an “exclusionist”, started iding as nonbinary demiboy, ace/aro, he/they, got a binder i think during the winter of my sophomore year and came out to a couple friends as nb. Went more towards ftm. Started dating my current boyfriend winter of my junior year, told him I was id’ing as ftm (he’s bisexual, didn’t matter) and the rest of my friends, changed my name and pronouns socially. Start of my senior year I told my family and had them change pronouns and name as well. My bday is in October, so turned 18 and was going to start testosterone. 

By the winter of that year however, I had been hate-reading a lot of “terf” blogs. And what I found was that I could not argue against what they were saying. I was experiencing a lot of cognitive dissonance about it all, repeating the same mantras but knowing they didn’t quite add up. 

Specifically about: If sexuality is based on an internal sense of gender, how can you be attracted to anyone until they tell you what gender they are? If a lesbian sees a woman and she says “i’m ftm” does that mean the lesbian is now a bisexual because they were “attracted to a man” or is a switch supposed to flip and they stop being attracted? If sexism is based on “being perceived as a woman/passing as a woman” then why do butches who pass as men still experience sexism? If being gay is about “being perceived as gay in society” then wouldn’t that make all the homosexual couples historically who passed as hetero for safety suddenly become actual literal heteros? If transmen have male privilege, why are they not represented in politics, are targetted for sexual abuse by straight men, and need access to abortion just like women do? If transwomen don’t have male privilege, why are they the main voices of the movement? They can reap all the benefits of a male life for 50 years, and then suddenly none of that mattered? If me and my boyfriend’s relationship is “gay” now that i id’d as ftm, how come we could legally get married and adopt in any country in the world? I was raised being told I Should like and date men, I never once believed my attraction to men was a sin, and gay men experience the Exact Opposite, so how could we both possibly be gay men? Why do transwomen have male patterns of violence? Why have I only ever heard of stories of transwomen abusing transmen, and not the other way around? Is it possible to only be attracted to the same sex? To say no is to say that it’s possible for all women to like dick, which is obviously fucked up. What is so different about a man and a transwoman that means a lesbian is supposed ot like the latter? Why can’t anybody define women? first woman, then female, then afab, the goalpost kept moving. What is there to being a woman besides being female, isn’t all that extra stuff just stereotypes? When my sister is distressed with her body and denied herself food, or I cut myself, that’s a bad thing because it hurts your body, but hrt and a mastectomy hurt your body, they even risk killing you, but that’s okay? I took a sociology class and it’s clear socialization effects behavior - but somehow magically trans people grow up uneffected by it? If socialization can influence women to wear makeup, dress, and act in specific ways that arent’ innate, and cause higher rates of eating disorders, couldn’t it effect dysphoria as well?

And so much more!!!

And that’s only on the trans side - I also had my eyes opened to the horrors of pornography and prostitution, the rates of domestic violence, and all the other terrible sex-based oppression that women are subjected to globally. There is so much more to being a radfem than the trans issues too. 

So for two years (winter of my senior year to winter of my college’s high school year) I decided not to transition. I engaged with radfem tumblr and talked about all these things with my female friends in person as well, it was like getting a huge weight off my shoulders too. And it really did help lessen my dysphoria to an extent. I came up with a long list of coping mechanisms to employ for dysphoria as well. 

But by this february, I was just so tired of that. I still supported everything I say about radical feminism, about sex based oppression, protecting homosexuals, and the dangers of medical transition. But dysphoria is just this constant painful presence day in and day out, and I pursued medical transition in february. I applaud every woman who chooses not to transition, and ultimately view transitioning as giving in, because I can no longer be a role model to young dysphoric women, who shows them that you don’t need to transition. 

At this point, I love my body more than ever and I can’t imagine regretting these changes really. I will miss connecting with women the way I used to, especially as a woman in science, but the women in my life from before transition will always see me as one of them still, and I appreciate that. 

The way I see it, words don’t hurt me at all, they are immaterial, and as a scientist I value coherent definitions, and I understand the realities of sex. So my goal with transition is to pass as male in society and to alter the parts of my body that bring me distress - I know i’m not literally male. And I think all trans people need to get to the point where they understand that, it really helps mentally. 

And I’ll always think, maybe if i had different friends (half of my friends understand, half think i am or would think i am an evil terf) or was dating a woman instead of a man (i’m bisexual, thought i was hetero in highschool (but called myself a gay man lmao), and dating someone with the same body seems like a big deal in handling dysphoria), if i tried harder with my coping mechanisms, if I saw a therapist who understood all this and didn’t just encourage me to do whatever I wanted, maybe i wouldn’t be transitioning. But I’m happy now, so that’s what I focus on as mattering to me, and that’s what I want to pursue. 

I do caution others from doing the same though. 

Also tangent at the end here, I call myself “trans” because I’m medically transitioned. To me, “cis v trans” makes no sense and is sexist. But “dysphoric vs not dysphoric” or “medically transitioned vs not medically transitioned” make more sense to me. 

[emerald-echeveria-plant]

(Me: when will you stop?

Also Me: till the earth explodes :3)

Name:

Veronica Flare

Name pronunciation:

Ver-on-i-ca Fla-re

Nickname:

The executioner

Personality:

Flamboyant, vengeful, extravagant, sadistic, loyal, looney, charming, jokester

Age:

523 years old

Species:

Venus flytrap

Sexuality:

Pansexual

Gender:

Transwoman

Pronouns:

She/her

Ethnicity:

???

Looks:

Backstory:

(WARNING: mentions of torture, suicide, & transphobia)

During the era of which Hatred was ruling over Amoretia, she had many enemies who would happily want her buried alive. So in response, Hatred decided to strike fear into them. She thought they'd be much easier to control and leave her alone if they were afraid of her. Yet, how could she accomplish it? Torture. But an amount of torture that would keep them alive and make others fear her. If her enemies saw the state of her victims, they would see what she was capable of. At first, Hatred would handle most of the torturing but couldn't for long. Her armies and supporters needed her leadership. So, Hatred hired multiple tortures to do the job for her. The job was simple, torture the enemy but too much to a point where they die. One problem though. Some of the things Hatred would instruct them to do, was a bit too much for them... Such as It affected their mental and emotional health. Hatred didn't care though, she still wanted them to do it. If they didn't, they would be met with her wrath. And one of the things no one should ever do.. is anger the queen.

The tortures slowly fell in numbers. Some of them going insane from what they committed. While others committed suicide. A few of them tried to start a revolt against the queen with the prisoners they were supposed to be torturing. In response, Hatred had them tied to a ship and slowly had it sink. Hatred hired more torturers but it would always seem to be a repeat of what happened last time. Going insane, suicide, and revolting against her. Seeing as no matter what she did, the issue wouldn't go away. After pondering with herself for a while, she came up with a perfect idea.

She'll create her own torturer.

Hatred went through many spells books in order to find a way to create such a being. Not being satisfied with any of the options she had, she went onto experiment. While she wasn't away fighting alongside her armies or making plans with her cabinet, she'd frequently experiment on how to create life. Her first few experimentations didn't go as planned. Most of them coming up as failures in her eyes. Hatred would get severely frustrated with not getting the results she wanted. Often destroying her own room in the process. Hatred tried for months to create the perfect specimen. They had to be equally terrifying, threatening, and cruel. As well as some certain traits that would make them not become insane or betray her. She made a specially designed potion containing such traits. Making the being morally corrupt, sadistic, and loyal to her and only her.

A year later, she finally got the result she wanted... Well, sort of. By using a venus flytrap along with a potion and black magic, she created a being from it. A being she would call Victor Flare. Of course Victor wasn't exactly what she wanted. To her he was way too skinny, not as tall, and not terrifying looking at all. Yet, he had some form of intelligence and had all four of his limbs along with working organs. By this point she was growing tired of experimenting and decided to go with him. He was born twenty three years old yet had the mind of a newborn. Right after he was created, Victor was immediately put to learning about Hatred's ideology. It confused him a lot at first. Mainly because he had no clue how to read or write. After realizing that the creature she created couldn't just learn about her ideology, she allowed him to be taught subjects like math, science, and language arts. Victor eventually learned how to read and write as well as speak. After becoming intelligent, Hatred thought that he was finally ready. She began to teach him how to torture her enemies. Most of the time the torture lessons would be hands-on. Victor found himself enjoying giving pain to people. Most likely due to Hatred making him have the certain traits that she desired. She was pleased with the outcome of seeing him torture and made him her royal torturer. Finally getting what she wanted, Hatred could finally focus on spreading her ideology as well as defeating some of her enemies. She'd usually bring back some soldiers on the enemies side or even her main enemy for Victor to torture. He'd always do as she requested in order to make her happy. Hatred never physically showed her happiness but did seem to be pleased with what he did. Although he could do better. Hatred eventually casted a spell that gave him powers that would allow him to do more awful things. The powers were tied to his species which allowed him to control and manipulate plant life. Victor became fascinated with his powers. His first thought was how there were so many ways to make a person suffer. He would then use his powers, primarily manipulating vines in order to tear them apart, limb by limb, slowly and painfully.

As much as he enjoyed making Hatred's enemies suffer, he started having other thoughts. He began to question his own actions. Why was he torturing these people? Sure he liked it but why them? He knew they were the enemy but why were they the enemy? When asking Hatred these questions, she only reiterated that they didn't follow the right way of how to truly live. How love was an infectious disease and how it would be the Galaxy's downfall. How she was born in order to stop such a thing from happening. Even though Victor was maybe five months old at this point, knew that her ideology was incredibly flawed. Yet, he never commented anything about it. Knowing that if he did, she'd torture him as well. Victor knew that these people he was hurting were innocent... Strangely, it made it much more fun for him. Most likely due to him being specifically made morally corrupt. After answering that question, there was another question brewing in his mind.. Who was he? Well he knew who he was. He was the loyal servant to Hatred who was given the task to harm her enemies. But.. who was he really? Behind those layers of plant flesh and blood? What was the core center? This lead to him questioning his own identity.

He questioned if he was only a torturer and if that was the only thing in his life. Victor wanting more meaning in his life took up hobbies. Mainly reading books. His favorite books being that of fairytales. Victor would also often be taking care of his appearance. Nobody wants blood stained faces after torturing all day. He first wondered if he wasn't a torturer, what else could he be? Maybe a makeup artist or a hair dresser. Those jobs sounded thrilling but not as much fun as tearing someone's skin off. As much as Victor took care of his appearance, he could never shake the feeling something was off about him. He felt uncomfortable in his skin. Often covering his skin with layers of clothing. He never knew why though. He didn't know but felt like he needed to. Victor would only get his answer when he was reading another one of his books. It showed illustrations of beautiful women wearing gowns and enjoying a picnic. Victor felt what would be known as "gender dysphoria". He felt uneasy with his own gender. As if he was born in the wrong body. Well, he kinda was as Hatred would put it. Although it was more about gender for him but it was everything else from Hatred. She didn't even want him to have a gender in the first place. Victor would slowly begin to put on makeup. First it was a bit of eyeliner then lipstick and full on layer of makeup. He felt comfortable with himself as he put on the makeup. Victor felt beautiful. When Hatred was away, he'd sneak into her room and wear one of her dresses. He didn't like the colors but enjoyed wearing it regardless. Eventually, Hatred would catch him doing this. In response she yelled at him before kicking him out of her private quarters. She wasn't mad about him wearing a dress but actually about that it was HER dress. Hatred didn't like it when people touched her things. Despite that, Victor began to take on more feminine traits. He started to talk in a much more high pitched voice. He wore high heels while torturing people. They were confused but didn't question it if they wanted a harsher punishment. One day, Victor full on dressed in a beautiful long gown, heels, and makeup. He adored it very much and praised himself for looking so good. Yet, he still didn't feel comfortable with himself. Despite looking gorgeous, he didn't like his gender. He didn't feel like he was born in the right body. He was destained to be someone else. Victor came to the conclusion that he wasn't born to be a man... He was supposed to be a woman. But how exactly could he turn into one..?

Magic. That was the answer. If Hatred could create him with just a potion and a few funny magic words, then surely there was a way for him to become a woman. After looking through several spell books, he finally found the spell he was looking for. The creation of a potion that would allow one to permanently become a woman. It was hard work but Victor managed to collect all the ingredients he needed to make the potion. He then finally drank the potion. It was a success and a bit later, Victor would change his name to Veronica. Along with his pronouns to she/her. When Hatred came to learn of this, she didn't really care. All she wanted was her enemies to suffer. Veronica happily compiled as soon as Hatred called her by her correct pronouns.

Veronica finally felt comfortable with herself. Enjoying to be in her own skin and loving herself throughout. Although she was met with a problem, many people loathed her for torturing people. When her enemies found out that she was trans, they decided to harass her on that. Often yelling slurs at her and sending hurtful letters about how horrible of a MAN she was. Veronica was angered by this. Offended that they still thought of her as a man and not as a woman. She could take being called a horrible person for committing atrocious acts or even being called a literal hellspawn. Veronica found their insults to be humourous sometimes. She'd even provoke them to insult her more. But misgendering her was taking it too far... She wasn't a man anymore and was happy being her true self. Then it all came crashing down when many people began to refer to her as "Victor" her deadname. Finally reaching her breaking point, Veronica unleashed hell on Amoretia... All of her enemies would feel her wrath for treating her horribly. Many of them were mainly torn limb from limb while others had much more horrible punishments. One person was slowly impaled by a bamboo shoot. Another covered in flowers that attracted bees and slowly died from being stung to death. Yet the one person that met the worst fate was young woman by the name of Patty Marrion. Patty would often be the one harassing Veronica daily. Calling her all sorts of horrible things, saying her decisions were choices instead of actually feelings, and literally made pamphlets demonizing trans folk. After weeks of being tormented, Patty was now at the mercy of Veronica who wasn't very keen on letting her go. Veronica seem to play it simple though... All she asked Patty to do was drink a glass of wine she specially made for her. Patty knew this was one of her sick and twisted games of Veronica. She expected to be poisoned but nothing to seem to happen at first. Yet before Patty could respond, most likey taunting her about how her planned failed, she began to feel something change inside her... What Patty hadn't realized was that Veronica put inside a special seed. A special seed that slowly turned Patty into a tree... It was quite a horrifying sight as Patty realized what was happening to her. She begged for mercy. Apologizing repeatedly for her actions. Yet, it was too late... Veronica watched in glee as Patty slowly circumed to her fate. Right after the transformation was complete, Veronica took an axe, chopped down the tree, and made a lovely chair for Hatred to sit on. Veronica's tyranny wouldn't end after those events. Right after she went in a rampage and gifting Hatred the chair, Hatred promoted her by making her executioner. As well as have some form of control over Amoretia while she was away fighting wars. It was a very good deal for Veronica as now she could implement about how much she adored being herself and torture anyone she wanted!

Unfortunately after two years of this, Hatred would then be "executed" by her enemies. Veronica became extremely depressed that their "wonderful" and "fantastic" leader was put to death. Not wanting her legacy of destroying all love to die out, Veronica tried to lead Amoretia and the armies herself. Veronica never truly believed in destroying love but would do it out of respect for Hatred. Yet, the other monarchies weren't going to let that happen. They declared that Veronica had to be put to death for her crimes. She would end up going on the run for a while. Then, it seemed like she straight up disappeared. There wasn't any trace of her left. No leads, no eyewitnesses, and no sightings. Amoretia would soon be ran by a government in order to establish some sort of order. Sadly, the kingdom would never return back to it's prime time... Although some people on Amoretia do still believe Veronica is still out there... Plotting.. Seeking revenge.. and going to return one day.

Likes:

Makeup, fashion, taunting others, desserts, making jokes/puns, torturing people, violence, & practicing magic

Dislikes:

Being misgendered, her deadname, people disrespecting Hatred, insects, stepping on her shoes, transphobes, dull things, and sour foods

Powers/abilities:

Nature manipulation - connected directly to the natural world and thus can communicate, influence, manipulate and control nature

Potion making - substances with magical properties such as enhancing physical and mental abilities, healing, granting powers, changing shape, or bewitching someone depending on the kind of potion that is made.

Immortality - endless lifespan

Weaknesses:

Fire - the most feared thing a plant could ever face.

Vulnerable - can have a long lifespan but can still die

Water - isn't a very strong swimmer

Physical strength - Veronica isn't the strongest and even Baozhai could beat her in a fight

Occupation:

Torturer & Executioner

Other:

Veronica's flytrap flaps often closes whenever she goes to sleep or whenever she doesn't want to talk to anyone.

[marauders-map-irl]

this is Not An Accident (written very poorly by me)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: R*PE, M*RD*R, SELF-HATE, R*CISM, H*MOPH*BIA

Living here, in this small, ignorant town, going to my small, ignorant high school, looking like I do, loving who I do, sucks. And that’s to say the least. For some background, I live in a small town in the countryside of Tennessee, called Greenton. I go to a high school called Cookie-Cutter, which is pretty ironic because it is much like a high school you would see on tv.

Everyone pretty much hates us here. I can’t say that I blame them, though. I hate me too. My family is the only strange family here; everyone else is pretty normal (extremely so). Everyone mocks us and bullies us. My mum is African American and my father is Irish. They both joke that we’re the 21st century version of the Brady Bunch.

There’s 7 of us, including my parents and I. I’m right in the middle of my brothers and sisters, and perhaps the most normal, but that doesn’t say much. My eldest brother is John (20), and he’s the oldest of us all. He’s mixed like the rest of us, he’s cisgender male and gay. Then comes my eldest sister, Moira (19), who’s non-binary and pansexual. There’s me next (16), and I’m cisgender female, asexual, and aromantic. After me came my trans (female-male) brother (12), Mikey, and he’s heterosexual. Lastly came my sister, Brittany (9), who’s showing signs of being demiromantic.

We’re the only people that aren’t white in the entire town, and we only came here to help dad’s parents in retirement. The town is extremely ignorant, and it doesn’t help that we came from a big city either. In school, I’m an outcast, though I suppose it’s better than being constantly bullied still. They’ve stopped all contact with me completely, deeming my lack of wanting any sexual activities at my age strange. The teachers even think I’m weird too, and as such have either called on me excessively or just stick to grading my perfect papers and not making any conversation with me if unnecessary. I tend to get perfect grades, what with having absolutely no platonic ties to anyone outside family.

That brings me to where we are currently. In math class, staring out of a window I’m somehow always seated by. The teacher, whatever her name is, is droning on and on about a group project worth half of our final grade for the year. Three people just either groaned or were making tiny grunts of displeasure, meaning I was in a group this time. This project must actually be important. I look up about 4 minutes later, when someone sits next to me and taps my shoulder. Looking up, it’s the very person that continues to poke fun at me, Jessica Kaileia. Well, Jessica, 1 of her most loyal cronies, and another nerd. Sam, I think his name is, and I recall he always eats a slice or two of pie everyday at lunch.

“Do you need something?” I ask Jessica coldly, averting my eyes quickly from her makeup-caked face.

“We’re project partners, Mckinlay. Otherwise I wouldn’t risk my wellbeing talking to you, trust me,” she smirks slightly and her cronie sniggers, but I just roll my eyes and Sam snorts.

“So we’re using last names? Didn’t think you liked your last name anymore, what with your father being a serial killer, Kaileia,” Sam says, making me hold in my giggles as Jessica shrieks.

“You forgot the part where her mum left her for a woman,” her cronie says in disgust, clearly trying and failing to conceal her own laughter.

“Mackenzie!!” Jessica says in a shriek that would rival that of Petunia Dursley.

“Watch your volume, Ms. Kaileia,” the teacher says in her monotone voice, barely glancing up from her issue of The Quibbler.

“Yes, Ms. Binns. Sorry, Ms. Binns,” Jessica says, rolling her eyes before returning to glare at Sam and I respectfully.

“What was the assignment?” I ask, wanting to rid myself of these potentially cruel people as quickly as possible.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it done by tomorrow and put your names on it. I am second in our year. Of course, I will need your first and last names, well, not yours Kaileia,” Sam states, staring at the packet of instructions and not looking up at us once.

“Yes, well I’m first so I’d actually like to do the work, if you don’t mind. Not that princess Allura and her bestie Romelle here would appreciate getting a fair share of the project,” I say, snatching the packet gently and looking it over.

“Who are they?” the cronie asks, making both Sam and I snort.

“Homewreckers one and two,” Sam says as I divide the instructions in half and give the easy half to Sam.

“Language, Mr. Avery,” the teacher’s monotone voice rings throughout the classroom and Sam apologizes half-heartedly.

“Wait, why do I get the easy part of the assignment?” he asks me offrontedly.

“Because I’m the first in our class,” I answer easily in a ‘duh’ tone, to which he nods with a slight frown.

The assignment was straightforward and easy, although to Jessica and her friend, it would be like rocket science to a 3 year old. I set to work, knowing that if I start now, my half would be done by the end of lunch hour. I didn’t pay much attention to my bullies, though them being in my peripheral didn’t support the cause at all. They were seemingly doing their nails (more like the minion doing Jessica’s nails) and talking about stereotypical popular girl things. The tiny bits that I actually heard made me roll my eyes so hard and so often I was worried they might actually get stuck.

“What’s your name? I need to know for the project,” I ask the she-devil’s minion, but she looks to Jessica for confirmation before speaking.

“Clara Maythers,” she mutters, as though the mere thought of speaking to someone as ‘abnormal’ as me scared her very being.

I nod half-heartedly before adding her name to the list and continuing the project, trying once again to ignore the ignorant bastards behind me. I turn slightly when I see Jessica forcing Clara to hold up a magazine for her to read while she blows her wet nails dry, making sure I couldn’t see them at all. When I was looking over what I had, the intercom came on and the principal spoke. Her voice shook with laughter and I’m sure her face was turned up in a smirk. It was probably another prank. This is Cookie-Cutter, after all. We’re a very stereotypical high school and I’m a very… let’s just say mold-breaking student.

“Could Ms. Alessia Mckinlay come to the front desk to be collected. There has been a family emergency,” she says family as if she doesn’t believe my strange family is one, and I’m sure she doesn’t. There’s incoherent words being said to the principal and she grudgingly continues. “Please,” and after that, the intercom cuts off and all heads turn my way.

I make my way to the front office, as asked, and am hit with sneers, sympathetic looks, and pretty much everything between hate and loathing. I’m not even able to make my way to the front office before my parents steer me away from looking in the lobby. I look at them with a mix of skepticism and worry. Principal Maera did say there was a family emergency, after all.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to look over my parents’ shoulders and failing, due to them forming a wall in front of whatever they were hiding.

“Your sister… There was an accident and…” mum cuts herself off there with a choked sob, making me look to my father for the remaining explanation.

“They…” my father then stops himself, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, either searching for the right words or not wanting to say them aloud (although in retrospect, it’s probably a mix of both).

At this point, I’m worried for all of my sisters, frustrated with my parents for not telling me what’s wrong, and attempting to stay positive and force all the negative thoughts from my head. I manage to shove through the human wall before me and my body freezes at the sight. Laying in front of my eyes is my little sister, Brittany, battered, bruised, broken, and lifeless. Her pants are down to her ankles, her rainbow underwear just past her knees, and blood is drying and caking around her…

I tear my eyes away, but they somehow end up right back at her. This time, though, I’m studying her face. It’s frozen in pain, but there’s also an air of peacefulness present. There’s bruises forming around her neck and littering her face, but I try not to focus on that. I try to focus on all her happy memories. I try to focus on her laughing as mum caught her cheating in Monopoly. I try to focus on dad hiding a grin as she stole a bit of the cake batter for my birthday last year. I try to focus on Brit. But it’s so hard. I try to focus on her happy times. But I always end up looking into her wide, horrified eyes.

My body’s seemingly on autopilot now, because I somehow make it over to my 9 year old sibling to shut her eyes properly, but I didn’t think about it. I thought about how someone could do this to a child. I thought about who could do this to a child. I thought about why someone would do this to a child.

But soon enough, a camera flashes, and then 2, then 5, and then I’m surrounded not only by my baby sister’s blood, but light from what seems like millions of phones. Soon enough, I feel like I’m under a microscope, and viscous scientists are picking apart my every move. Soon enough, I’m back to the main lobby of Cookie-Cutter High School in Greenton, Tennessee. And soon enough, the laughing, mocking, sneering, jeering students return full force.

I hear my mum crying in the background and muttering something about this being an accident. About it having to be an accident. That just makes me mad. Does she not see the freshman taking pictures of her youngest child’s corpse? Does she not see the sophomores laughing mercilessly at her and my tears alike? Does she not hear the juniors yelling at us that our whole family is a disgrace to human-kind? Does she not hear the seniors telling us that we all deserve the same fate? Does she not see my principal’s smug smirk as she watches the whole event and does absolutely nothing?

“This wasn’t an accident. How can you beat someone up on accident? How can you rape someone on accident? How can you murder an innocent child ON ACCIDENT? I get that you’re in shock or whatever, I really do. BUT HOW THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT? PEOPLE HAVE BULLIED US EVER SINCE WE MOVED HERE! THEY MOCK, TEASE, PUNCH, BUT NOW THEY’VE GONE TOO FAR!” my father is telling me to stop yelling, but I don’t hear him. All I know is that I see red, whether that be from the blood pooling at my feet or rage, I have no clue. “DON’T YOU SEE THEM LAUGHING, RECORDING, YELLING AT US?! DON’T YOU SEE HOW THIS COULD NOT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN AN ACCIDENT?!” and by now, I’m crying, but she has to know. She has to become aware. She has to stop this. She has to. “Please,” I say to no one in particular, taking my sister’s dead body in my arms and sinking down to sit on the floor.

I can’t do anything but hug my now limp sister and pray that this is just another practical joke. Hope that she’s not really gone. Wish that I could have been a good big sister and protected her.

She had so much life left to live. She was only NINE, for god’s sake! She was going to grow up! She was going to make it past the fourth grade! She was going to do well in school and get into the college she wanted to go to! She was going to be successful in her career and her life! She was going to die when she was old and senile and only after beating a terminal disease like cancer, because that’s the stubborn bastard she is. Was.

This wasn’t an accident.

[nosunsetsjustsilence]

The Manics and Gender Identity, Part 1

There is a lot to unpack in Nicky and Richey’s early lyrics pertaining to gender, particularly in terms of identifying with women. Richey approaches the subject — as he is wont to do — with regard to the exploitation and degradation of the female image, while Nicky’s attitude is more inquisitive and casual. Both use lyrics to express their own personal “What if?”

Make no mistake: I’m not claiming that either Nicky or Richey is/was non-cis or trans or anything other than curious. But it’s clear from their personal lyric struggles and hard-won lifestyle choices that this was a different time they were living in. In the 1990s, gender identity was not a topic with any kind of mainstream recognition, at least beyond those who wanted a “sex change” or girls who were considered “one of the boys”. I think it’s fascinating, at least from my perspective, to go back and examine the themes of gender dysphoria, identity, and frustration in lyrics written before any of it was part of popular conversation, and in a way that emphasized the then absolute cultural disconnect between desire and society.

Also, it’s important to note that both Nicky and Richey have presented gender in ways that don’t have anything to do with lyrics. Nicky is comfortable in traditionally female clothing and wears dresses on and off stage; both band members wore makeup and feathers on a regular basis. I’ve tried to write about gender in terms of lyrics only, but at times I do take examples from visual media.

Finally, keep in mind that yours truly is non-binary, and the discussion will hopefully not reek of a cis person watching queer men from behind bars in a zoo.

Special thanks to @sinisterrouge for vetting this before I posted <3

Little Baby Nothing

Although Richey seemed to find comfort in claiming that his lyrics were about the larger world — in the case of Little Baby Nothing, feminism and the way women are perceived in media — a closer look usually reveals a personal stake. When I discussed the meaning of this song previously, I emphasized that the “Little baby nothing” in question is clearly Richey himself, writing in the first person and deconstructing his own image to align with a kind of mindless female groupie used for sex.

My mind is dead, everybody loves me Wants a slice of me Hopelessly passive and compatible Need to belong, oh the roads are scary Hold me in your arms I wanna be your only possession

Richey often refers to himself as a “slut” and a “prostitute” and uses self-referential porn star imagery in his lyrics (So Dead: “You need a fix I’m your prostitute”, Yes: “there’s no lust in this coma even for a fifty”), aligning the industries of pornography and music performance in very vivid ways most often pertaining to exploitation. Appropriately, singing pivotal stanzas on this track is none other than Traci Lords, arguably most famous (especially in the early 90s) for an underage porn scandal.  

What’s more, in the lyrics booklet for Generation Terrorists, there is a quotation or excerpt included for each song. The following corresponds to Little Baby Nothing:

“The male chromosome is an incomplete female chromosome. In other words the male is a walking abortion; aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.” -Valerie Solanos.

Ninety percent of what the Manics said and did in their early years was intended to be shocking and/or ironic. Of course they were trying to incite anger and riots, the questioning of institutions, and a teardown of normalcy. But the fact that Richey later used part of this radical statement as the title to one of his songs (“Of Walking Abortion”, natch) proves that he took it somewhat seriously, even if only in the most simple sense — that part of him resented his own maleness.

Life Becoming a Landslide

This is another song I’ve previously discussed, mostly in the arena of Nicky and Richey individualizing their distinctive voices into lines that can clearly be attributed to one or the other. In a song about nature vs nurture and the plastic confines of greater humanity cracking down on who or what someone is really supposed to be, we have:

Life becoming a landslide Ice freezing nature dead Life becoming a landslide I don’t wanna be a man

As far as writing style goes, Nicky was always fairly straightforward. Richey loves to convolute his message with proper nouns and alternating verb cases and a lack of a subject just to throw  people off, but here’s Nicky, my boy, just saying, “Dude. Being a man sucks. I don’t like this.”

He could mean that being human in general sucks. But, since his attitude towards women leads me to believe he would not abbreviate humanity in this way, and given his and Richey’s track record with gender and Nicky’s well-documented gender presentation, I think it’s clear the lyric means that he doesn’t want to be male. Because he feels it doesn’t suit him, for whatever reason. And that nature failed by making him a man instead of a woman.

Yes

‘Yes’ is an incredible song. Its major-chord melody juxtaposed against Richey’s raw portrait of degradation is truly a thing to behold. The theme? Being used, prostitution both literal and metaphorical (“For sale? dumb cunt’s same dumb questions”), exploitation in the name of capitalism (“In these plagued streets of pity you can buy anything”), and reaching the lowest possible point of existence (“Purgatory’s circle, drowning here, someone will always say yes”). But the chorus — the chorus boasts one of the rawest images of sexual violence the band has ever used:

He’s a boy, you want a girl so tear off his cock Tie his hair in bunches, fuck him, call him Rita if you want

Wow. Okay. Where to begin? The implication here is that gender, along with everything else, is mutable if you have enough money and power to abuse people. However, it appears the change would be made not to entertain others, but to appeal to a specific person, sexually (“fuck him”). The “you” in question is clearly attracted to women, so the narrator offering to mutilate himself to please them can be seen as a last-ditch act of desperation. (“It feels like this massive defeat,” said a friend. “You can make him a woman to pleasure someone, but what’s left to change after that?”)

Richey wrote most of the song; “Rita”, obviously, is the name used for an alternative female identity. But who would Rita be? Richey seems to be wondering. Would she still be me? And would the change even be worth the affections of whomever he’s speaking to? If the means are so drastic (and difficult to picture without experiencing secondhand pain), that answer would usually be “no”. But the song is called “Yes”. I would say yes to anything at this point, Richey is saying, even the most extreme sexual violence imaginable, if that’s what you wanted.

4st 7lb

This is an extreme example of Richey using world issues to examine his own nature. Although anorexic himself, Richey writes “4st 7lb” from the point of view of an obsessive young girl admiring thin models. There could be multiple reasons for this, not the least of which is that when a person fails to fit the “classic” case of an eating disorder, they are often ignored. So, Richey says, you need me to be a teenage girl? I can do that. 

(Note that in 1994, when this song was written, any eating disorder demographic outside the “white girl who loves fashion too much” model did not exist by medical standards and was usually subject to ridicule.)

Karen says I’ve reached my target weight Kate and Emma and Kristin know it’s fake Problem is diet’s not a big enough word I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view

Embodying the anorexic female stereotype allows Richey to criticize both the world and himself; by creating a parody of a young girl with an eating disorder, he creates commentary on how ridiculous and counter-intuitive her thought process actually is. The song is brutal and often focuses on nudity and sexual imagery, as it has been suggested in studies that eating disorders occur in those who are trying to annihilate their own puberty. Though Richey was well into his 20s when he wrote this, he often expressed a loathing of aging and the entire concept of adulthood.

Stomach collapsed at five Lift up my skirt my sex is gone Naked and lovely and 5 stone 2 May I bud and never flower My vision’s getting blurred But I can see my ribs and I feel fine My hands are trembling stalks And I can feel my breasts are sinking

Ultimately, “4st 7lb” hits hard as both an experiment in identity and a vicious satire of the rich white girl eating disorder cliché. Although the lyrics do not express a desire to become female, they do indicate that Richey feels everything might be easier and fit more neatly into a box if he were a girl.

[Coming in Part 2: The Girl Who Wanted to be God, Tsunami, Born a Girl, and Pretention/Repulsion.]