#resistance & respiration

[cerealdigitalgallery]

Portrait of Alice Wong by Georgia Webber

Contemporary Calgary, Mohkinstis, Canada

As part of the exhibition “Resistance & Respiration”

January 2024

[anarchotahdigism]

So wild so few of y'all have noted that the more determined protests and direct actions have had significantly more people masking and in quality respirators because they actually have some real solidarity and real commitment to resisting genocide. It's not just about fooling facial recognition like some of y'all seem to think.

Biden has killed over a million people with COVID but y'all still think you can participate in one genocide to end another

if you claim to care about any genocide, you should be masking the entire time you are in public.

Refusing to mask when able is eugenics and you're actively participating in the genocide and oppression of disabled people and people of color and poor people.

I see just how silent y'all are about the literal millions dead of COVID while assuring yourselves you are good people doing your best.

The IOF banned all COVID mitigation efforts for occupied Palestinians including PPE, antivirals, vaccines

it destroyed the only Gazan COVID testing facility and the only treatment facility

You can't genuinely claim to care about the plight of Palestinians and be complicit in the genocide of others with covid, emulating the occupation you claim to despise.

It's been years of an unmitigated nightmare for everyone disabled. Stop fueling our deaths just so you can feel better about yourself in the moment. Stop being the danger that keeps us away from radical and queer and public spaces.

COVID will disable and kill you too. You're not better than us.

Show some fuckin solidarity and commit to masking. It's still a deadly pandemic. Act like it.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: abalone

This is a Wet Beast Wednesday post, but it would also be applicable for Mollusk Monday and maybe even Flat Fuck Friday. Today I'll be introducing you to the abalone. The squat snails have some strange features that set them apart from their fellows in the shell squad. Unfortunately, over harvesting of abalone for their meat and shells have put many abalone species in danger.

(Image: an abalone attached to a rock. It is a snail with a large, broad, and flat brown shell. A muscular foot attaches the animal to the rock. Around the body is a membrane covered in tentacles that reach out around the body. End ID)

Abalone are marine snails of the genus Haliotis (not to be confused with halitosis) that can range in shell diameter from 20 mm (0.8 in) to 300 mm (12 in). The number of species is a matter of some debate. There's a lot of variation in morphology within species which led to many species being incorrectly classified as multiple species. The most accepted number appears to be 56 species and 18 subspecies. Abalone shells are highly flattened and the spiral can be hard to see, making them look like large limpets. They have no operculum and cannot withdraw into their shells like other snails can. Instead, when threatened they suction as hard as possible to an object. The shells have holes in them on one side which are used for respiration, waste disposal, and release of gametes. As abalone grow, the number of holes will change with some being filled in and new ones forming. The interior of the shell is covered in nacre. This substance, also called mother-of-pearl is valuable for its polished, iridescent appearance. Abalone use the nacre to make claw-shaped pearls. The shell is composed of microscopic bricks of calcium carbonate glued together by a protein structure. When pressure is applied to the structure, the bricks slide against each other and the protein glue stretches. This helps absorb the energy of blows and makes the shells very resistant to cracking. The shell structure of abalone has been studied to make sturdier body armor and ceramics.

(Image: an empty and polished abalone shell, seen from below. The shell is lined with shiny and iridescent nacre. The nacre color varies with species, but in this case is blue-green. A line of holes are on one side of the shell. End ID)

The majority of the shell's interior is filled with the muscular foot, which the abalone uses for locomotion. The foot is attached to the shell in the center. Around the edge of the foot is a structure called the epipodium. This is a frilled membrane lined with sensory tentacles. When an abalone is relaxed, it will extend the tentacles to examine its surrounding. When threatened, the tentacles retract for safety. Along the edge of the shell is the mantle, which produced the material for the shell. Abalone will grow larger throughout their lives, with the mantle continuously making new shell. At the front is the head, which has sensory tentacles and a mouth that contains a pair of oral tentacles use for finding food and the radula. The radula is a tongue-like structure lines with sharp teeth. The teeth scrape algae off of rocks and into the mouth. The teeth are arranged in rows that move forward like a conveyor belt, allowing worn out teeth to fall out and be replaced by fresh ones. The head is near the newest-formed hole and the anus is next to the rearmost hole.

(Image: an abalone seen from below, with the foor removed and anatomy labeled. The organs circle around a central muscle that the foot attaches to. A small head is in the front while the epipodium rings the body. Source. End ID)

(Image: an abalone's radula, removed and next to a pencil for scale. It is a long, thin structure lined with rows of tiny teeth. The front end is stained brown with algae. End ID)

Abalone live on coasts worldwide, with the exception of the North American Atlantic coast, South American Pacific Coast, and the poles. Most species live in cold water, but tropical species are known. They spend their times feeding on algae. Abalone shells are usually covered with life, including algae and sessile animals like tunicates, sponges, and tube worms. The hitchhikers combined with the upper shell's dull appearances serves as effective camouflage. During mating season, males and females release gametes into the water. The number of eggs a female can produce increases with size and can be up to 11 million per season. The larvae start out in a swimming form before metamorphosing into non-swimming juveniles called spat. Abalone reach sexual maturity young and at a small size.

(Iamge: dozens of abalone spat in a tank. They are miniature versions of the adults, but have nacre on the outside of the shell as well, giving them a shiny turquoise color. End ID)

Abalone have been hunted by huamns for millennia, with the oldest evidence of use being a 100,000 year old "workshop" found in Blombos Cave, South Africa, where abalone shells were used as storage for ochre mixtures. Throughout their native ranges, abalone have been harvested for their meat, nacre, and pearls. The shells are often used for jewelry, as decorative inlay, and, in some cultures, as currency. The foot is edible and considered a delicacy in some cultures and a staple in others. The value of abalone has led to worldwide overfishing, resulting in many species being endangered. Captive farming has become a major industry in many places to meet the abalone demands. Farming began in China and Japan in the 1950s and 60s and the majority of abalone farms are still in east Asia. Because of overfishing, the majority of the world's abalone supply now comes from farms. Sport fishing is legal in many parts of the world, with 25% of the wild harvest coming from Tasmania. Many places require permits and have catch limits, but poaching remains a major industry. Collection of abalone is usually done with a blunt scoop called an abalone iron that can pop the animal off of rocks. It has to be blunt because abalone blood does not clot and any cut will lead to the animal bleeding to death. Overharvesting and increasing ocean acidification are the largest threats to abalone. Places where abalone are reintroduced to the wild have seen increased biodiversity and environmental health.

(Image: a carving made by the Haida people of British Columbia, Canada. It reselbles a face with a tall hat or head with a small body carved on it. Abalone shells are used for inlay,, cut into rectangles with the nacre facing out. End ID)

[noirhimbo]

If you've been looking for inexpensive mask options this is a good one! These masks are currently on sale. $2.85 for 20!

They are a molded N95 (head strap) that boasts being able to hold up to hot weather. The straps are made of latex, and there is nose foam.

[plaguedocboi]

Neither do they

They are literally so weird

[zezacle]

Thraxia read through the checklist as the humans babbled between themselves.

"Whoah!" Rowan guffawed and blinked wide-eyed.

The other human chuckled with his deep voice. "How many brain cells did you just lose smelling that?"

Rowan offered the open bottle of liquid to Walker. "Take a whiff."

Finally, Thraxia completed the review and turned to see what the odd creatures were conversing about. Dread filled their chitinous body as they saw Human Rowan holding an *OPEN* bottle of Solution 63. "What are you doing?!" Thraxia covered their orifices and backed away. "The fumes from that are highly toxic!"

Human Walker stepped back cautiously, but the rather dense Human Rowan breathed another waft of the bottle's toxic gases. How was he not dead? Thraxia was thoroughly confused yet intrigued.

A wide-smile creeped across Rowan's face as he held the bottle out to Walker. "Smell it."

Thraxia winced as Walker took the Solution he hesitated for a second before bringing it to his nose. He recoiled from the smell, but smiled as well. "Is that...?"

"I think so!" Rowan laughed as he took the bottle back. Thraxia relaxed their scales, perhaps Humans are resistant to the gases. But then, Human Rowan put the bottle's opening to his lips and INGESTED THE SOLUTION. Thraxia began to panic. Surely the human would now die if they didn't receive medical attention, but the comms unit was next to the door which they stood in front of. There was no way to get to it without being exposed to the gas.

Rowan's face distorted as he pulled away from the bottle. Surprisingly, he wasn't collapsing or convulsing. "Well?" Walker asked.

Rowan smiled, "It's pretty good."

"Are you two okay?" Thraxia called.

"Yeah, were fine. What are you-"

"Hey boys." They were interrupted by the third resident human coming in the door.

"Careful!" Thraxia called. They didn't know if Female Humans were as resilient as the Males. "There is toxic gas!"

"Gas?" The Human Lily asked.

"They're referring to this, try some." Rowan handed the bottle to her.

"What? I'm not drinking that, I don't even know what it is." Lily rejected the bottle.

Rowan gently shook the bottle, surely agitating the dangerous Solution 63. "Its good~" He smiled.

"Did you drink it?" Lily's eyes went wide. "Oh god, Rowan..." she groaned, rubbing her eyebrows. "Alright, let's take a sample to the lab and make sure you didn't just poison yourself."

And so, they capped the bottle of Solution 63. The humans retrieved a respirator for Thraxia at their request and they all convened in the lab. Lily took a pipette sample from the bottle and dropped it in the analysis machine. Less than 30 seconds later a molecular breakdown was displayed on the monitor.

"Let's see..." Lily looked over the results. "Oh, okay. You'll be fine, Rowan. It's relatively harmless." Walker chuckled as he read the results.

"Harmless?!" Thraxia exclaimed, muffled by the respirator they refused to remove. "It's poison!" They pointed to the screen which read: 'Alcohol, 40% by Volume.'

Rowan laughed. "Poison? Baby, this is Goofy Juice!"

[ohnoitsz1m]

Whatever. Combine Barney AU concepts. But also he's a furry because I just can't be bothered to draw people rn

Not by any means an original idea but I've seen so little of it and what IS around isn't very detailed or isn't finished so. I'll gladly add to the pile of unfinished stuff ^_^ I may not be good at keeping up with my AUs but I try to be thorough with them while I'm working on em

Okay continued rambling below final warning also there's a maskless combine down here so like .. HL:A spoilers and general body horror (?) below ↓

Anyways so. Barney is like. A figurehead. Of sorts. Very much a "hey look the combine is actually really great and basically your best bet at survival. We promise not to take away your humanity completely just let us do a little surgery and genetic modification it's totally okay we promise." Type deal. He exists for propaganda basically.

His mask is separated into different parts because well that's just how the design ended up. It's hard to translate shit to furry bodies T_T. The mask snaps together to make a fairly airtight seal since it is technically a respirator,,, but comes off in two pieces. External ears are lame you don't need em when you have a mask and implants that give you better hearing than any other member of your species. Stuff em in the mask they're not made for your comfort anyways.

He's got kind of a modified version of the Ordinal uniform because 1 I really like the HL:A Combine designs and 2 it was the easiest to make look like his Black Mesa uniform. Just for funzies

He's still "Barney" he just got his brain tampered with. And maybe a liiiittle extra stuff. It's fiine. But uh yeah he's lacking a lot of the visible modifications that the combine soldiers usually have because if this thing started trying to tell you how cool it is to join the combine nobody would listen.

So they had to compromise. A little. They let Barney have most of his personality and a good deal of his memories, juust modified to better suit their needs.

The How and the Why of this AU aren't quite set in stone yet but the basic gist of it is:

Barney initially joined Civil Protection early on as a double agent for the Resistance, buuuuut due to prolonged separation from the resistance, propaganda aaaand tampering with the food and water supply he started turning more to the other side. He was still working as a double agent but he started to get sloppy and became more sympathetic towards the combine. Eventually the Combine figured out what he was doing and fucked with his brain for funzies or whatever. Suddenly not only is the combine cracking down harder on rebel outposts, there's a new guy appearing in between breencasts!

[i-eat-worlds]

Becoming obsessed with a whumpee being comtaminated by some sort of biological substance, and then being captured and quarantined in a government lab for study.

However, it turns out that the government was lying, and that is a way to treat whunpee’s “contamination” and they kept them ill for study, ruthlessly cutting them open and performing test after test. The group of people start a resistance to this, and eventually rescue whumpee.

After being broken out of the lab, whumpee is taken to a quickly thrown together isolation room. The walls are covered with thick plastic sheeting as is the floor. There’s an old hospital table at the center in it, and surrounded by all sorts of secondhand medical equipment. The caretakers, a group of renegade doctors and nurses and scientist, are all garbed up, in Tyvex suits and layers of gloves and respirators.

Even though they’re trying to help whumpee, they’re scared out of their mind. As far as they can tell, they’ve been kidnapped by a group of mad scientists who are going to perform more and more experiments, just like the last people in those outfits did.

Still, Whumpee can’t figure out why they are being so gentle. Why are their wounds being bandaged instead of cut open again? Why are the linens so soft? What are these “analgesics” they’re being given all the time? Why do the doctors seem unhappy with the pus leaking from their PICC line, or the heat around the tube from their stomach? Why are things being explained to them at all (even if they’re all lies)? And most of all…

Why are they feeling better?

[colibrie]

Confrontations: Friendly Fire

Credit to resident art genius (and Donatello consultant) @trilobitepunch.

Keep your head centered, and shoulders down. Align hips, knees, and ankles to ensure even weight distribution. Space feet twelve inches apart…

“You good Don?” Raph whispered, his deep voice rumbling like thunder in the dense hush of the corridor.

“Fine,” Donatello replied, eyes trained carefully forward as stark gray walls loomed large and cold around them. Dull steel gleamed weakly in sterile light, painting the world in somber shades as the brothers moved swiftly towards their destination.

Arms to the side, hands open. Do not fidget or flex your fingers. Chin at a 45-degree angle to the chest. Eyes following the same line to the floor. Facial muscles must remain in neutral position three. No chewing of the lips, cheek, or tongue. Blinking limited to fifteen to twenty times a minute. Respiration rate will hold steady at twelve to eighteen breaths per minute.

“Ya sure?” Raph prompted; an emotion Donatello could not identify at the moment slipping hesitantly into his tone. “I know things got kinda crazy out there for you. I can give the report this-��

“No,” Donatello quickly cut in, neck muscles groaning with tension as he jerkily shook his head. “I already told you; I am fine. Further, you conveying the report will only arouse suspicions.”

“Oh…right.”

Keep your voice at neutral level one. Present the data, and only data. Maintain calm. Maintain control.

Carefully he gathered those volatile elements within him. Emotions, incomprehensibly sharp and barbed, hazardous as an untested solution. Once he had them, he reached for the box that he kept in the deepest recesses of his mind, the only other survivor of his time within the temple. It was a heavy thing, reinforced in layers of steel and will and sealed with a thousand locks. Its fathomless depths swallowed his burden, stripping away the unwanted and unnecessary to allow data to flow through his thoughts uninterrupted. The ache in his heart deadened, permitting his body to shift and morph in accordance with his thoughts.

“Everything is alright Raphael,” he assured, allowing himself the space of one heartbeat to feel relief as his words came out with the desired lack of inflection before he shut that emotion down too and locked it away with the rest. The door at the end of the hall loomed large, a maw reaching out to swallow them as they passed through “I will handle it.”

I will do this.

I can do this.

“Inquisitors.”

He bit down on the urge to shiver, steeling his spine as both he and Raph snapped to attention. He carefully kept his eyes forward and breaths measured as his superior’s exoskeleton stepped from the gloom of his inner office. Burning yellow eyes swept over them, a long mechanical tail lazily swiping from right to left as clawed hands folded behind his back.

“Inquisitor Krang,” they intoned together, dropping into identical salute that their leader dismissed with a lazy flick of his tail.

“Back so soon,” Krang mused, baritone voice dangerously light in comparison to the baleful red eye that glared unceasingly down at them.

The claws of one hand rose to casually trace his metal faceplate, producing a shrill screech that stretched the uncomfortable silence. Beside him Raph shifted slightly, discomfort evident as the permission to speak continued to be withheld, but Donatello resisted. His posture remained perfect, his face still and breathing metered as the sound assaulted his eardrums. He knew this game. He had played and lost so many times before. This time, this time he would win.

I can do this.

“Report.”

He closed his eyes and took half a step forward.

 “Sir. Following the reports of possible Jedi in sector 4B, we deployed and identified two individuals. Upon confrontation…”

Carefully chosen words poured past his lips, a clinical and concise script that outlined events in as few details as possible.

I can do this.

In his mind the box shivered, the tiniest of cracks opening.

Mikey eyes reflecting fear and a lack of recognition for the strangers who shared his blood.

I can…

Leo, frozen. So close but so far…

No.

He pushed the images back, forcing them into the box.

I can do this.

“…Neither target demonstrated force related abilities, even when pressed. It is possible that the informant was wrong or lied to curry favor with the Empire.”

“And where are these subjects now?”

“We were separated from them when the building came down. They escaped.”

“Oh?”

Such a soft syllable, yet it sent a bolt of icy fear through his gut. He forced down the urge to swallow as Krang turned away, claws rasping stridently against the floor. His shoulders hitched half a centimeter upward before he could stop them.

“Two potential force sensitives, ostensibly untrained, managed to thwart two fully trained inquisitors. Unusual, given the lack of displayed talent. Tell me more about these two subjects.”

“They-”

“Not you.”

Wh…What?

Lightning speared him, eyes flaring wide as his thoughts ground to a halt. In the corner of his eye Raph flinched, shock telegraphed for the whole galaxy to read.

“M-me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no sir. Sorry.”

 Raphael stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Donatello once more.

No.

This wasn’t right. Krang never asked Raph to report. Why was he asking Raph? What had he done wrong?

Stay calm. Stay calm. You can fix this, just…

“The subjects were like us. Looked and acted like they were siblings. The older one was Donatello’s height, bright green, with red crescent markings on his face and blue face mask. The younger one came up to the first one’s shoulder, was a darker green, and had an orange face mask.”

Sweat broke out along the back of his neck, the muted lights within the room becoming painful as the images of his twin and baby brother broke free from the box once more. His eyes slammed shut against his will, squeezing tight as he fought to push them back down.

He knows what they look like… oh force he knows what they look like.

Mikey’s sweet round cheeks, the left one smudged with hints of orange and yellow paints. Leo’s brilliant red crescents, his pride and joy, perfectly framing dark eyes that mirrored Don’s own.  

Stay calm. Stay. Calm. It’s fine. Appearances can be altered. Breathe. BreatheBreatheBreathe. You can turn this around. You can do-

“And how did they act upon encountering you?” Krang prompted. Even with his back to them, Don could feel the weight of those eyes, yellow and red, bearing down to delicately carve his nerves from their protective sheaths. Pins and needles prickled down his arms and legs, stinging and nipping the tips of his fingers and toes as his armor chaffed against unbearably sensitive skin.

Don’t answer that, Raph. Don’t…

“They were surprised. The older one kinda froze up when he saw us. It was like he was looking at a ghost, or something. The little one seemed clueless and freaked out. He tried to get the older one to leave, but, uh, we moved to separate them. I took the little one, Donatello handled the older one. The little guy had a lot of agility. Looking back, that might have been from some force abilities. Not trained though. Kid was running on instinct. I didn’t see the older one fight, but he survived getting thrown around Donatello, so he could be-”

Don’tdon’tdon’tshutupraphhowcouldyou-

Nothisisyourfaultyourfaulthowcouldyounotprepareforthis?

His hands clenched, nails biting deep into the meat of his palms in search of something grounding. An anchor against the sensations crawling through his veins like sludge.

StopstopstophowdoIstopthis?

The crack in the box grew a little longer.

Mikey. Effervescent and unguarded, brighter than a star. His baby brother, force signature bubbling with innocence and raw ability, defenseless against shadows that would snuff out his firework soul within a heartbeat.

Leo. Shattered and fragile and vulnerable within the force. No shields or walls to hide behind. A cracked shell that would be obliterated with a flick Krangs claws.   

Donatello could not let that happen. And that meant he had to pull himself together.

He forced himself to suck in a subtle breath, ignoring how the air shredded his throat on contact.

Calm. Down. You are probably giving away more than Raph is at this point. It’s just Krang playing games to get under your skin. Stop giving in. All these details are inconsequential so long as he does not have the context to put it all together. He doesn’t know. No one knows. And that gives you the advantage.  

"Interesting," Krang purred as he turned back to them, slit pupiled eyes flickering over Donatello’s body as though it were a particularly intriguing holopad.

He does not know. Breathe. Stay calm. Don't give in. He doesn't know. He can't know...

Krangs smirk deepened to as he caught and held Donatello’s gaze, a cruel sneer that shone with wicked delight as his superior’s gaze then slid pointedly to Raphael.

"Very interesting."

He knows...

All the air in the room disappeared, evacuating his lungs as a wave of terror swallowed his thoughts. His limbs locked; muscles durasteel ridged as Krang sauntered away. The lights in the room were lasers, piercing flesh, and bone to shred his brain. Every tap of Krangs claws crashed against his ears like cymbals, deafening him to all but the pounding of his heart. In his periphery Raph’s gaze bore down on him, the silent questions within it pinning him down as the guillotine hung high overhead, doom preparing to drop.

“Your failure might have revealed a unique opportunity,” Krang mused, the barb at the tip of his tail flashing like a knife as he strode back towards his desk. “I must decide the best course of action regarding it. Your punishments will have to be decided later.”

“Yes, sir” he mumbled, the words barely whispering past his lips as his throat threatened to close around them.

“You two are temporarily dismissed.”

[is-this-yuri]

once upon a time i worked for a total of three and a half (3.5 entire) weeks at a metalworking facility where i used power tools to carve away at giant metal pieces. the metal pieces in question were pipes and plumbing of various types, to be used in sewer and water systems. so, for threeish weeks, i was part of the reason someone had running water and sewage. this is generally considered unskilled labor for some reason

anyway, the place didn't provide me the right sized gloves. i have freakishly small hands, so like, i didn't expect them to have a good pair for me right away, but they refused to get me a pair in the right size. so, since i didn't feel comfortable with my fingertips flopping all over the place, and they didnt just let not wear the gloves, i got my own.

i got vibration resistant gloves because i noticed even within the first day that my hand was getting numb in places from holding the tools. the gloves seemed to work great, but they quickly wore out and i had to take them home for difficult repairs every week.

i STILL got raynaud's syndrome. just working there for less than a month! with special gloves designed to help prevent it! i didn't realize until the next winter i spent homeless and my fingers went numb and turned white, so i never thought to pursue any compensation.

on top of this, the OSHA guidelines for average dust particles in the air was up on a board for me to read, but when i read it i wondered if they'd considered the fact that every single employee stops their work and sweeps their station at the same time every day, kicking up a visible cloud of metal dust particles. my boogers were constantly, always pitch black for the brief time i worked there. i have some pictures of me in that place and i literally look like a coal miner. no masks or respirators provided, i also bought my own of those.

this was also a teamsters company, and i was really excited to hear that at first because it was my first time working under a union. and most likely the union has made excellent progress in making that workplace safer than it otherwise would be, but i personally still didn't feel like my health was a priority.

so yeah, three weeks at that place was enough to know it wasnt for me. i didnt even mention the macho work culture i didnt fit into, which is also common at factories and warehouses. this wasn't my only attempt at this kind of job, but it was the shortest, because at that point i had enough self respect to leave when i knew it was bad.

the sad thing is, every job is like that in some way. your health is never a priority. the unions have gotten us to a point, but it's essentially bare minimum. and thats if you can even get unionized. you're going to have to reach into your own pocket to accomodate your needs at work, a pocket your boss's hand is already deep into.

so if youre feeling guilty, or lazy, or worthless because you can't stand your job, just know that almost no job is a hospitable enviornment.

[sunsetcougar]

Bit of a long Lyrebird AU post incoming! The plot thickens!

As the extermination draws ever closer Vaggie takes to wandering around at night, after most of the flock is asleep and she can be alone. It gives her time to think and try to unravel everything she’s feeling. On one of these walks she wanders to the edge of the forest, near the forges.

Now the forges are a unique building. For starters it’s out of the forest, on the edge of the desert/outback area that forms part of the exorcist’s territory. It’s surrounded on all sides for one hundred feet by concrete, and has a twenty five foot, anti climb fence without a gate all around the perimeter. The doors into the building are always kept securely locked, and the only people allowed inside are the commander, lieutenant, smiths, and smith apprentices.

The reason for this is because the forges are very, very dangerous. Most of this security is to ensure the nestlings and fledglings can never, ever get inside. The juveniles and adults understand the danger, but the kiddos don’t. This danger comes both from how much angelic steel is stored inside, and because it’s one of the handful of places in Heaven that houses Holy fire.

Most fire you’ll see in Heaven is regular fire. It can’t hurt an angel, at most it’s uncomfortable. Holy fire is different because like angelic steel, it can kill or permanently disfigure and disable an angel. Most smiths have at least a few permanent burn scars. It’s also insanely difficult to put out since it feeds on Holy energy, and thus is treated with the utmost caution and respect at all times.

Usually Vaggie doesn’t give much thought to the forges. She has no interest in smithing, and even the smoke rising from the chimneys this late isn’t odd. The smiths are notorious for losing track of time and working on their projects at the oddest hours. But this night, she stops as she’s passing it. Something feels… off. There’s a sinking feeling in her gut, telling her not to walk away. She debates if she should risk how much trouble she’d get in if she’s caught, and that feeling grows stronger.

She hops the fence.

She walks the edge of the building for a bit before she finds an open door. Thats… very weird. No one ever forgets to lock the doors. She slips inside and wanders until she hears voices. Following them, she soon finds the source.

Lute and two of the older smiths are in one of the weapon’s testing rooms, looking over a full uniform on a dummy. It’s definitely an exorcist uniform, but modified. The fabric seems to have an almost metallic quality to it, the gloves and boots are notably thicker, and the helmet has a respirator. It also has what almost looks like armor, but not quite. More like thick padding in a mimicry of armor plating.

That sense of dread in her gut grows as Vaggie watches Lute and the smiths step back, one of them, decked out in the full uniform for working with Holy fire and angelic steel, going over to a metal box and opening it. Using a specialized scoop she takes out portion of Holy fire, the brilliant gold and white flames almost moving like water, and pours it over the uniform.

It should have burned to ash.

The only damage is a bit of char.

The smiths have created a uniform resistant to Holy fire.

It hits Vaggie like a semi truck as she makes her escape before she’s spotted. Lute, that crazy, genocidal bitch, is planning on weaponizing one of the most devastating substances in all of Heaven against Hell.

She has to warn Charlie.

[k9punkout]

sharing my thoughts on this image cuz it's eating away at me

so this is what (im pretty sure) the text above them says and implies

luka: breathing test- makes sense due to the respirator he has. acing a test on breathing is really funny to me, but as much as i'd like to leave it at that i think luka canonically has asthma. the aliens were probably tweaking with that/torturing him via his respiratory problems. he clearly gave them the response they wanted, considering he earned such a high grade. sobbing.

hyuna: superiority test- im still so interested about this one. while idk exactly what happened, it should be noted that hyuna's guardian, phan, is considered to be one of the highest class/most superior intergalactic lifeforms. maybe they only accept pet humans of the utmost best quality? also, we never see hyun-woo's scores/tests. it might be because he isn't a main character like hyuna is, but what if it implies that he fell short of phan's expectations? maybe that's why they didn't care enough to revive him after he died. that might've been a driving factor for why hyuna hates the segyein so much. hmmmm (im reaching)

ivan: smile test- considering the equipment, it's pretty obvious what went down here. i think this further confirms my theory on ivan being forced into masking his emotions with a smile, rather than just doing it to fit in. help him :((

sua: hearing ability(?)- i don't think we've been told anything about sua having TROUBLE hearing, but the aliens could've tweaked with her ears so she can hear her own music better and therefore perfect it? idk.

mizi: vision- i remember there was this old livestream where vivimeng said that there's technology in the alnst universe to fix mizi's vision problems, so this must be it. judging by the bandages, it seems to be some sort of surgery. it explains why she doesn't need her glasses anymore.

till: it just says "be obedient"-bandages are covering his ENTIRE face. whatever skin that's showing seems to be covered in bruises. it's very vague about what happened to him but i just know it's terrible. someone get him OUT OF THERE

im also wondering whether or not this is like. directly after these tests

it would make sense with luka, hyuna, and ivan, but sua doesn't seem to have anything attached to her ears, mizi's not only completely blindfolded here, but she's also being made to dance while her grade in the previous image is labeled "vision", and till looks much more docile than usual here (plus he's widely regarded as a musical genius so i doubt he'd get a low grade on instrument practice)

then again sua's hearing operation could've been performed after this (maybe a test on how hearing affects a human's voice?)

and mizi's dance test could've been right after her eye operation while the image of her grade could've been taken after one of her eyes healed.

as for till, he could've gotten that C simply because he played an entirely different song than what was assigned to him (which is in character, but i dont think it warrants that extreme of a beating or whatever it was they did to his face).

alternatively, he seems to have a tendency to act more tame before pulling a wild stunt (he was uncharacteristically obedient before killing freddie in r2, and his aggression at the karaoke scene was after a long period with little to no resistance), so he might've tried something violent halfway through the test.

moral of the story, no one's happy

[covid-safer-hotties]

Mask Sale for Canadians!

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[reneeofthestars]

Reunion

Excited to share the short story I wrote for "Star-Crossed: An Anidala Zine" @anidalazine ! A "Padme Lives" AU

Words: 2,585 * Read on AO3

******************************

Padmé Naberrie Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, former Galactic Senator, and current member of the Rebellion, had been in her share of tight spots before. 

But this was the first time the tight spot was an Imperial holding cell.

She’d already examined every inch of the enclosed dimly-lit space, searching for a weakness she could exploit, but found none. There was no access panel, no loose wiring, and no ventilation system large enough for her to squeeze through. So Padmé sat on the bench and watched the door, working on what she would say when an officer inevitably came to interrogate Sola Minnau.

After all, Padmé Amidala was dead.

For a while, Padmé thought she was dead. The galaxy around her swirled in hot reds and blues, then cold blacks and whites. Grief so raw it threatened to tear her apart, pain unlike any she had experienced, then stillness. Such perfect, silent stillness. She was weightless, drifting through some gentle embrace where there was no pain. No suffering.

It was the babies’ cries that called her back.

Once she was well enough to sit upright, she held her children close to her. Leia had Padmé’s eyes; Luke had Anakin’s. She was given privacy to cry. And once she had no more tears to shed, she set to work.

Padmé contacted Sabé, and her dearest friend organized the rest. Gathering Padmé’s former handmaidens, they worked swiftly to organize a body double and a funeral, and before long, the people of Naboo mourned the death of Padmé Amidala.

Heart aching but determined, Padmé had agreed to have her children separated – from her, and from each other. Having lost Anakin, Palpatine would turn his interest to the children if he knew they lived. Obi-Wan disappeared into the Outer Rim with Luke, and Bail falsified Leia’s birth records and took her into his home.

Over the years, Padmé – Sola Minnau, now – worked closely with Bail, Mon Mothma, and other trusted allies, establishing contacts, supply lines, and information networks. They smuggled food and medicine to communities being bled dry by the Empire, and helped those in danger disappear, all while trying to bolster support to resist the ever-growing dominance of the Empire over all worlds.

They all knew the risks. If they were caught, they could be subject to execution, or worse. But Padmé couldn’t stop. She would help, no matter the cost. She had spent her childhood on relief missions with her father, and she hadn’t been able to stand by while her people suffered when she was queen. She wouldn’t hide now.

That’s the thought that kept her focused when the contact on Rodia ended up being an Imperial informant. They had barely greeted each other before Padmé was surrounded by stormtroopers. Padmé had kept quiet, giving only her pseudonym when they initially questioned her. The troopers marched her onto a shuttle, and once they’d boarded the Star Destroyer in orbit, she’d been taken to a holding cell.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold wall. In the twelve years since the fall of the Republic, Padmé had never been taken aboard a capital ship. With no communication or resources, help wasn’t coming. Padmé was on her own.

The door of the holding cell hissed open. She stood as a towering black-clad figure stepped in. Coarse, mechanical breathing filled the room; Padmé forced down a shudder. They had never crossed paths, but she recognized him from endless holos and horror stories, from the expressionless helmeted mask, from the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

Darth Vader.

*

Darth Vader’s breath would have hitched if his respirator hadn’t dragged the air from his lungs and reinflated them automatically. His heart would have stopped if the cardiac regulator hadn’t measured out steady heartbeats. The servos in his legs whirred as the galaxy was swept from under his feet and he nearly fell to his knees, so overcome with the emotions that suddenly raged inside him.

Padmé was alive. Alive, breathing, not five feet away.

No, that couldn’t be. She was dead. Vader had observed her funeral on Naboo, had mourned at her tomb. This was some trick, some deception meant to rattle him; the Emperor himself was likely behind this, testing Vader’s resolve. What was this trickery then? A PROXY droid? A Force Apparition? A Changeling? Perhaps a handmaiden?

But as Vader and his dead wife stared at one another, he shakily reached out with the Force, and felt – Padmé. Her existence thrummed in the Force, whole and strong, with that same vibrance he remembered from so long ago.

But she’d never looked at him like this. Anger burning in her eyes, resolve in the set of her lips, defiance in her stance. He’d seen her look at others like this and he’d admired her dedication and determination. But to have her glaring at him now, with loathing and defiance… he felt unsettled.

Padmé didn’t waste time. “On what grounds was I arrested?” she demanded. “It’s unlawful to take a citizen into custody without disclosing the nature of the supposed criminal activity.”

The current Admiral of The Executor had been so smug when he’d approached Vader to announce that a rebel insurgent had been captured. Vader had strode to the detention block, flanked by two stormtroopers, ready to wring out all the information he could from the rebel scum –

Of course she would be with the Rebellion. The Empire was the very thing that she had been so concerned about creating during the Clone Wars.

He forced himself to speak. “Conspiracy against the Empire.” His synthesized voice rang out in the enclosed space, so warped and pitched that she would never realize who she spoke to.

But did he really want her to know? Did he want Padmé to know what became of Anakin Skywalker? To see this broken, twisted husk of what remained? Would she want to know? Vader had killed Anakin Skywalker, had carved out everything that remained of the naïve Jedi, everything that Padmé had loved, until only Vader remained.

She was speaking, and Vader said nothing. He just… listened to her voice, bringing to mind memories of her practicing her speeches the night before important Senate sessions, as he half-listened, so happy that the Force had their paths cross all those years ago in Watto’s shop –

Fury burned in Vader’s core and he let it fester, let it burn away at the memories of the man he had killed. He turned his head, addressing the two stormtroopers standing in the cramped cell just behind him. “Leave us.”

Hastily, the troopers filed out, the door sliding closed behind them.

His breathing filled the silence; Padmé had stopped talking when Vader spoke. He felt her fear, though it did not show on her face.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

She had come to him on Mustafar, knowing what he’d done. Even as she betrayed me, she loved me.

It was the last thing she said to him; Vader heard it in his nightmares, sometimes. “Stop, stop now, come back. I love you. Anakin…”

Grief welled in him, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “I thought I lost you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never met.”

“You were alive, I knew you were, but I felt – I felt our bond break.” His emotions roiled through him. “You were gone, he said –“

Hatred .

“He said I killed you,” Vader rumbled. “He said I killed you in a fit of anger, and when I couldn’t sense you, I believed him. The Emperor lied to me. He’s kept you from me all these years, knowing that I –”

That he what? Would have left Emperor Palpatine’s side? That he would run away with his long-lost wife? That he would kill her?

Padmé’s eyes had gone wide, frightened, incredulous as she stared at him. In a small voice, so quiet he almost didn’t hear: “…Anakin?”

The anguish threatened to consume him.

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.” He paused. “I…am what remains.”

She stared at him for so long, so silently, that Vader wondered if this might be a dream after all. “What…what happened?”

“It is because of Obi-Wan that I am like this,” he hissed.

“No! He would never hurt you! He loved you –”

“Enough! I don’t need to hear empty assurances.”

Fear lingered in her eyes, but that spark had returned. “If you can’t believe he loved you, what about our love?”

“I loved you more than I can ever express. I did everything for you – I would continue to do anything for you – ”

“Except come with me.”

“You brought Obi-Wan to kill me.”

“No! I didn’t know! I didn’t know he’d snuck aboard my ship.” And Vader was startled to hear the truth of her words reverberate in the Force. Taking a hesitant step forward, Padmé’s eyes flickered between the lenses of his mask, as though trying to see through them. “All I wanted was you. For us to be safe, and happy. We didn’t need anything else. Even…even after everything you did…”

“It was necessary. To bring order to the galaxy, to gain powers of the Force that would save –” Vader stopped abruptly. “The child. Does the child live?”

She bristled, and that was all the answer he needed.  

He turned from her, but he didn’t see the cold cell around them. He saw a child splashing in the lakes of Naboo, Padmé laughing as she chased them, and Anakin Skywalker watched them from the grass, smiling and happy, whole and unburnt.

And then his vision clouded with red, and black, and Darth Vader’s fury returned, wiping out the scene of peace that had been stolen from him. Because it had been stolen from him. If he had never pledged himself to the Emperor, never razed the Jedi Temple, never succumbed to the Dark Side, if the Emperor hadn’t lied to him about Padmé’s death… 

“Anakin?”

He jolted out of his seething reverie. Padmé’s expression was carefully controlled, but Vader could sense her unease, her fear, her… hope.

Her steady voice held more gentleness than he deserved. “What happens now?”

Now, the Emperor would die. Now, Vader would have revenge. Now…

He turned on his heel and waved his hand, the cell door opening, harsh white light spilling into the dim space.

“Bring her,” he commanded.

The stormtroopers moved immediately, pulling Padmé from her cell and marching her behind him. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his helmet, but he didn’t turn around. If he took the time to explain, he might lose his nerve.

And neither Darth Vader nor Anakin Skywalker ever lost their nerve.

*

Padmé wanted to cry. She wanted to curl into the corner of some isolated place and sob her heart out. Instead, she raised her chin and walked as upright as she could as the stormtroopers escorted her behind the towering Sith.

How had the man she loved become the most feared monster in the galaxy?

She had believed, all those years ago, that there was still good in Anakin, even as he turned his back on everything he believed because he thought it would save her. But when Obi-Wan said that Anakin was dead –

Obi-Wan. Did he know that Anakin lived? Did he know what had become of his best friend? Had Obi-Wan lied to her about Anakin’s death, the way the Emperor lied to Anakin? No, she couldn’t believe that. He had been nearly as distraught as her. He couldn’t have known.

With all her heart, Padmé wanted to believe that there was still some sliver of good left in the creature that was Darth Vader; some glimmer of Anakin that she could recognize. But the horrific things that Vader had done… She watched the Imperials scatter from him in fear as Vader led her through the maze of corridors. How many had he killed? Tortured? He continued to hunt down surviving Jedi, relentlessly pursued Rebel insurgents, left ruins in his wake.

Could there really be good left in such a man?

She had to believe there was.

The corridor opened to a hanger bay. TIE fighters, small cargo ships, and shuttles lined the platform; technicians, pilots, deck crew, officers, and troopers moved in tightly organized groups, or else with purpose from one task to another. Darth Vader ignored them all, heading straight for a shuttle.

Technicians tending to the shuttle tripped over themselves as they leapt to attention.

“Lord Vader! We weren’t informed of a scheduled departure –”

“An apt statement, as I don’t often operate on schedules.” The man flinched. “I have need of my shuttle. Is it suitable?”

“Yes, my lord! It has been returned to your specifications.”

As the deck crew hurriedly cleared away their equipment, Padmé couldn’t help a twinge of familiarity; of course Anakin would be particular about his ship. So that, at least, had remained.

Darth Vader stood at the landing ramp and faced her. The troopers shoved her forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand twitch. But he didn’t strike. Instead, he stepped in front of them. “That will be all.”

“Sir?” one of them asked confusedly.

“I am not accustomed to repeating myself.” The low, warning tone sent a shiver up Padmé’s spine.

“Yessir,” the other said hastily, stepping back. The first trooper went to speak, thought better of it, and followed his fellow soldier.

Darth Vader’s shadow fell over her as she walked into the ship. Despite the size of the shuttle, there wasn’t much room inside; half the interior was taken up by some spherical mechanism, like a ball-shaped chamber.

“What’s happening?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone calm.

Instead of answering, Vader swept past her, cape billowing behind him as he strode to the cockpit. “Strap in until we enter hyperspace.”

Her stomach flipped. Where was he taking her? Why didn’t he bring any guards along? Tense, she lowered herself into a seat and adjusted the safety harness. Darth Vader – Anakin – no, she couldn’t think of him as Anakin – Vader sat in the pilot's seat, expertly flipping switches and adjusting controls until the ship hummed to life.

The harsh white of the hanger bay ended as they emerged into the blackness of space. She could just spy Rodia through the viewport as Vader turned the ship and input coordinates. Coordinates to where? Within moments, the stars warped and stretched, before slingshotting them into the blue-white of hyperspace.

Gathering herself, Padmé undid the harness and stood. Vader made no movement as she walked into the cockpit. Even when she stood beside him, he didn’t turn to look at her. She gazed out the viewport feeling like she was hurtling towards –

“I will take you anywhere you want to go.”

A breath escaped Padmé. “What?”

Vader said nothing.

“You’re –” she sat heavily in a little-used copilots chair. “You’re helping me escape?”

“You will be interrogated as a Rebel spy. You may be tortured, or killed. And if the Emperor discovered your identity, he may take personal interest.”

After a long moment he added softly, “I cannot lose you again.”

With a trembling hand, she reached over and touched the side of that black mask. Finally, he turned to face her. It may have been a trick of the lenses, but for just a moment, she thought she saw his eyes illuminated in the light of hyperspace. Anakin’s eyes. Luke’s eyes.

“Come with me.”

[agitateandeducate]

Resist Covid Eugenics and Legacies of Care shirts now available for limited pre-order! Once pre-orders have been created and mailed, I'll open up orders again. Only 12 left - help me stay housed by getting a rad shirt!

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– – – – Image Descriptions – – – –

[photo 1 id] text in top left corner: “Resist & Legacies T-Shirts. Funds go to the creation of your t-shirt & keeping the disabled artist and organizer housed! Available on my Ko-Fi!” Top right corner photo: The model is standing in front of a fenced in garden and tree decorated by summer lights. She is Latine, with brown skin and dark shoulder length hair. She is wearing glasses, a vflex N95 duckbill respirator, gray jeans and purple long sleeves with a black t-shirt over it. The t-shirt has white text across the chest "Resist Covid Eugenics" with each word stacked on top of each other in left alignment. To the right of the words is a white outline of an upside-down black triangle. She has her hand extended to the camera while holding a Makrite N95 respirator, offering it to the viewer. Bottom right corner photo: The model is looking off and smiling at someone off-screen while sitting in their black powerchair in front of a fenced in garden. They are white, wearing an ACI N95 duckbill respirator and black baseball cap that says, "In dog years I'm gay". They have tattoos on their arm and are wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a graphic in the center of the shirt. The graphic is a white paintbrush texture background featuring black bold text slightly angled and flowing in multiple lines: "we are creating legacies of care". Underneath the text are noir style greyscale pressed flowers and leaves with various shadows in bright colors of purple, blue, green and yellow. Bottom left corner photo: The model is standing with their hands in their pockets in front of a brick wall with trees in the background bathed in sunlight. They are white, with shoulder length brown hair and wearing a 3M Aura N95 respirator. They are wearing a silver hammer & sickle necklace, blue corduroy jacket and a white t-shirt. The t-shirt has black text across the chest "RESIST COVID EUGENICS" with each word stacked on top of each other in left alignment. To the right of the words is a black upside-down black triangle. [end id]

[photo 2 id] text in top left corner: “Unisex Soft Style and 100% cotton. Pre-orders receive a surprise gift of new resist eugenics goodies (only 15 pre-order slots available). Multiple colors/designs!” Top right corner photo: The model is kneeling on one knee and petting their brown and white cocker spaniel pup in front of a fenced in garden. They are white, wearing an ACI N95 duckbill respirator and glasses. They have dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and are wearing blue cargo pants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt has a circular white logo in the chest area, with an upside-down black triangle. in the center. Typewriter style white text goes around the border three times: resist covid eugenics. Bottom right photo: Four anti-eugenics masked models hanging out together in a backyard in front of a fenced in garden and tree decorated by summer lights. Three of the models are standing to each side of and behind a person in a powerchair. They are each wearing a different t-shirt design. On the left is a Latine model with brown skin and dark shoulder length hair. She is wearing glasses, a Vflex N95 duckbill respirator and standing with her hands in her back pockets. She is wearing gray jeans and purple long sleeves with a black t-shirt over it. The t-shirt has white text across the chest "Resist Covid Eugenics" with each word stacked on top of each other in left alignment. To the right of the words is a white outline of an upside-down black triangle. There is a white model on the right of her who is giving a peace sign, standing behind the person in the wheelchair. The model standing is wearing glasses and a Blox N95 duckbill respirator. They have bangs and a mullet undercut with dark hair. They are wearing a sapphire blue t-shirt over a collared printed shirt. The blue t-shirt has a circular white logo in the chest area, with a black border. In the center of the logo is an upside-down black triangle. Typewriter style white text goes around the border three times: resist covid eugenics. There is another white model in front of them in a black power chair, wearing an ACI N95 duckbill respirator and black baseball cap that says, "In dog years I'm gay". They have tattoos on their arm and are wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a graphic in the center of the shirt. The graphic is a white paintbrush texture background featuring black bold text slightly angled and flowing in multiple lines: "we are creating legacies of care". Underneath the text are noir style greyscale pressed flowers and leaves with various shadows in bright colors of purple, blue, green and yellow. To the right of the model in the powerchair is another white model, standing with their arms behind their back. They are also wearing an ACI N95 duckbill respirator and glasses. They have dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and are wearing blue cargo pants and a black t-shirt. The t-shirt has the same circular resist covid eugenics logo with the upside-down triangle as the blue t-shirt did, except there is no black border because it blends into the t-shirt color. Everyone is smiling under their masks and looking at the camera. Bottom left photo: The model is kneeling on one knee in front of a fenced in garden while facing the camera. They are white, wearing an ACI N95 duckbill respirator and glasses. They have bangs and a mullet undercut with dark hair. They are wearing a sapphire blue t-shirt over a collared printed shirt. The blue t-shirt has a circular white logo in the chest area, with a black border. In the center of the logo is an upside-down black triangle. Typewriter style white text goes around the border three times: resist covid eugenics. [end id]

[eywaseclipse]

The Songs of Freedom Chapter 2: A New Tomorrow

Characters: Sarentu OC named Kirani, Ri’nela, Nor, Teylan, So’lek, Priya, background original characters, and a special cameo

Synopsis: The group of you make it out of the clutches of the RDA and So’lek leads you to your new life and introduces you to the resistance HQ allies and space as you acclimate to your new beginnings.

Warnings: None just a little mention of ptsd and angst

Word Count: 3k

The group of you follow So’lek into the thick of the Kinglor Forest breathing in its crisp fresh air. Your anxiety bubbles hearing all the foreign sounds of creatures humming with life sticking close by wondering how long it will take to find the place he’s promised to take you all to. After what feels like an agonizing amount of time, you see a string of run down looking shacks surrounded by the flora and fauna of the Kinglor Forest environment, in your line of sight. The strange combination of human and Na’vi activity causes you to raise an eyebrow following So’lek walking up the grated handmade ramp.

The four of you exchange looks, while So’lek presses his fingers to his throat comm. “Priya, I’m bringing the Sarentu group back, get the door ready.” He pings to someone. He turns around and looks to each of you, “Come. This is the way to your new life.” He smiles softly. A wave of relief floods your senses watching him smile, something inside of you says to trust your intuition and follow suit as the others catch on and do the same. 

There’s a large door that opens automatically with a loud creaky hiss, while you cautiously step into the compact tunnel. “You will need these Co2 respirators for the main wing where the humans dwell. The Na’vi have their own corridor.” So’lek hands you four small masks connected to a cylinder compartment strapping the clip to your waistband and slinging the mask over your neck as So’lek demonstrates. You step into the main wing, taking in the environment as your eyes advert to a seemingly run down yet newly renovated living area. You see small desks with human tech, plants, tassels. You look more closely to your right and observe lights strung up on the bannisters, with pieces of clearly handcrafted tapestry hanging from the ceiling. You look to the floor as your feet feel the artisan rugs and and plush pillows wiggling your toes on the soft fabric.

This place is a stark contrast compared to the TAP facility. Where this place is warm and inviting, your time was spent in a cold sterile metal box for the entirety of your youth. You feel tears prick your eyes, feeling a foreign emotion bubble in your chest; relief. For the first time in your life, you’re not riddled with the fight or flight gut reaction. Your eyes turn to a stunned Ri’nela as she seemingly takes in everything as well. “What is this place?” Teylan asks nervously.

So’lek hooks his fingers around his gadget belt, as a small human approaches you all slowly. “Welcome to Resistance HQ! You must be the Sarentu kids! Oel ngati kameie!” She pronounces the roughest sounding Na’vi you’ve ever heard, as you crank your head down to examine this strange little thing. So’lek just snorts out and shakes his head. “This is Priya. She is an ally to us.” He explains simply. Your ears flick with confusion. A human ally? Why.

To Nor’s disgust he practically snarls as a result. “You have allied with the humans! The very kind who are destroying our home!?” He spits out laced with venom. So’lek doesn’t seem to mind, and sighs. “We cannot win this war on our own. They have proven their allegiance here. All humans at resistance do not condone the RDA.” He defends this human.

You look back down to the woman with the oddly colored pink hair, and click your tongue in curiosity. Watching as Ri’nela, Teylan and Nor all figure out this small creature in unison. “Uhm! Right! What So’lek said!” She begins to awkwardly rock back and forth scratching the back of her neck. “I was a biologist hired by the RDA, studying the botany on Pandora. But once I saw what they were doing here I… I couldn’t continue! That was about when Jake Sully over threw the whole operation and kicked some serious ass!” She chuckles out

Jake Sully. You’ve heard his name before. He was practically a legend among all Na’vi. Once born of Earth, inhabiting a dreamwalker body like Alma, he was tasked to persuade the Omatikaya clan to relocate so the humans could steal the resources. He eventually betrayed his own kind and became the chosen one. Toruk Makto. You’d all overhear Mercer throwing fits over the ambushes Jake would line up one by one seemingly taking down multiple RDA base locations one after the other.

“Priya here assists us with the others, we have many displaced Na’vi here who joined the fight of freedom against the sky demons.” So’lek explains. To your left you overhear light footsteps approaching, as you all turn in curiosity, “You rang?” A tall beautiful Na’vi woman stands before you dressed in what you know to be traditional garments. Unlike So’lek she just wears a simple green beaded loincloth that looks to be mimicking leaf like patterns, and a matching top that cascades gently over breasts with a lush looking material you’re unfamiliar with. 

You gaze to her face, strong features standing out to you unlike your own. Her eyes are smaller, more angled, cheekbones sharp and strong hearing her beads jingle lightly in her perfectly braided hair. Your eyes advert to her figure where she stands practically as tall as So’lek looming over the group of you. “Ah. There you are. Can you get them to their new living quarters please?” So’lek looks to all of you like you’re just another order of his.

The female Na’vi chuckles and rolls her eyes playfully. “Oh Eywa, always so bossy. I’m Tani. Of the Omatikaya. Welcome to your new home. I hope this one wasn’t too much, I understand you’ve all been through a great deal.” She offers you a sweet and empathetic smile placing her hand on her chest. Ri’nela clears her throat, “Thank you. We are… so grateful. We would not have made it if weren’t for your efforts.” She speaks shyly. The rest of you nod and agree quietly.

“Follow me. I’ll show you your living quarters.” Tani flicks her head to the direction of a hallway corridor. You take one last look around you and turn to So’lek, who’s eyes are already on you. You flinch ever so lightly as his gaze takes you by surprise. You can’t quite pin the look in his eyes, catching as they scan your body up and down curiously, just like you did to him earlier. 

You awkwardly cough and begin to follow this Tani as the others do the same. “The boys can follow me.” So’lek walks beside her, all of you following blindly into the dim corridor. “I hope you’ll find our facilities much better than your previous. The showers are stocked up with handmade soaps and salves I replenished and it takes a few minutes, but the water is hot.” Tani turns and smiles.

Back at TAP you were forced to routinely clean your skin with sterile smelling anti bacterial soaps, as Mercer would call you all “dirty, and un pure” as if it was a form of punishment for being Na’vi. Sometimes you’d be forced to scrub so hard your skin would go raw, and the water was always cold. You approach a sealed door as Tani presses a large red button with an automated female voice counting down. A small hiss, and the door opens up following suit. “This is where the Na’vi stay, you don’t need the masks in here. Alright girls you’ll be right across from each other, and my room is just a couple rooms down.” She points to a door that has markings painted on with blue and white patterns and several hand crafted beaded tassels hanging from the door knob. 

She leads you into your room first, as you look around the small cozy space. It’s warm toned with multiple layered artisan rugs covering the metal floor much like the living room area. You can’t help but sit on the bed as it bounces back, plush and squishy unlike your rock hard bunk bed back at TAP you shared with Ri’nela. “I laid out some clothes for you.” Tani smiles softly. You look onto the dresser and see a neatly fold grey shirt and sweatpants. “Thank you…” You smile gratefully. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it. When you’re all set come to the living room and we can show you the mess hall for dinner.” She winks at you closing the door.

You hear Tani in the hallway giving the same lowdown to Ri’nela as So’lek explains to the guys just down the hall. You take in a deep sigh and close your eyes. All the events of the last 24 hours seem to be catching up with your body, now cranking your neck to the side and feeling tight knots formed. You grab your clothes and look to see a built in bathroom to this space, walking in slowly to examine it. The room is small, but not too confined. There’s several smaller rugs all scattered along the floor, with the toilet near the end, and the small stall to the right. It’s warm toned as if painted over the original color of metal. 

You lay the clothes down on the sink table, and find that there’s a fresh towel already hanging for you on the sliding glass door hanger. You open the door the shower and see a small plant hanging from the shower head, it smells fresh and minty as you inhale it’s invigorating aroma. You crank the nozzle of the shower and hear it hiss to life with the water pouring out, as you step aside and begin to remove your TAP clothing. The military cargo pants and labeled shirt are peeled off your body as if you’re shedding your skin, heavy with relief. You don’t even think twice and throw them in the garbage can next to the sink a symbolic act of your new beginning here.  

You take a deep breath and look to your foreign reflection in the medium sized mirror hanging over the sink. At TAP you never had the luxury of mirrors, Mercer would harp on and on about how you and the others were supposed to reject vanity and embrace the life the humans gave you. You’ve only ever seen your reflection in shiny surfaces. 

Your eyes look at your naked form, riddled in puckered silky scars that will forever serve as a reminder of your past. You look to your face, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek looking at your big beautiful light amber eyes. Your nose is a strong Na’vi nose not as wide as you’d expect, with beautiful full lips and azure blue skin. You’re quite mesmerized by the bioluminescence scattered along your forehead chin and nose, tracing it everything lightly. 

Your hair has seen better days, never having learned the proper way to braid, it sticks out in all directions with your poorly woven braided beads feathers. Back as a child Mercer would not allow you or Ri’nela to braid your hair the traditional Na’vi way. Despite his attempted efforts you’d do it anyway, which resulted in him strapping you down to a chair and chopping your beautiful black locks off. Eventually he stopped badgering you once the Na’vi resistance formed after this Hallelujah Mountain war they spoke of.

You begin to slowly remove the beads and feathers, gently unraveling your sad excuse for braids now knowing that this is your choice. Your messy hair falls softly, cascading over your bare shoulders begging to be properly washed as you turn to see if the water has warmed up yet not that you can’t handle the cold.

Once satisfied you step in gingerly closing the door behind you, as the lukewarm water hits your skin deliciously. A huge sigh of relief escapes your mouth, slowly turning the nozzle down to the left, eager to feel the warmth caress your skin. Once the steam is evident you happily sigh once more, smelling the aroma of this refreshing plant. You look to the side where the small caddy hangs and observe the small jars of oils and shampoos.

You pick up a small glass jar labeled “shampoo” on it and squeeze a generous amount onto your palms as its spicy musk scent hits your nose with delight. With a good lather in your hair you begin to massage your scalp over and over feeling the dirt and grime lift out. Satisfied, you rinse thoroughly grabbing a bottle labeled “conditioner” As you repeat and twirl your hair until happy. You see a scruffy looking ball that you assume is used to cleanse your body with, and look to see the bottle “body” labeled on it. You squeeze a little bit of the liquid out as it plops onto the scrubby ball lathering it up with water.

You relish in this shower, not having experienced anything so luxurious in your entire life. After fully rinsing and cleansing your body, you turn off the water and step onto a plush rug. You reach for the towel and begin drying off your body patting slowly, hanging it back on the rack to get dressed. 

You see a cotton pair of panties clearly designed for the avatars at this base and step into them, followed by your shirt and comfortable pants. A small brush sits on the shelf next to the faucet grabbing it and running it through your freshly clean hair watching it glide down your shiny strands. For a split second you look back in the mirror and pinch your arm as if in a dream, feeling like this is all too good to be true. You don’t possibly deserve the refuge you’ve just come into, because all these years you were led to believe the RDA was your true home.

A pool of tears well up in your eyes thinking about the trauma the four of you have endured, not knowing anything but your treatment by Mercer and his henchmen. The clear erasure of your Na’vi identity will take time to slowly make amends with, you sigh to yourself. You suppose it can start here. 

After finishing up in the bathroom you turn off the lights and head into the bedroom when you see So’lek sitting on your bed. A large scream escapes your mouth causing you to clutch your chest as your heart flutters fast. “Oh shit!” You sigh. “Sorry I did not mean to frighten you. The others have made their way to the mess hall with Tani and you hadn’t so I thought to check on you.” He smiles kindly.

“Oh, yeah I have not been so accustomed to such luxuries before. I took a long shower, sorry.” You reply sheepishly feeling the guilt seep in. “No. Do not apologize. You have been through a lot. I just came to check on you.” He raises his hands up. “Well I don’t need a babysitter.” You sigh. You knew he only meant well, and you immediately wince at your harsh words. You can’t help the way you act, as if a knee jerk reaction fueled by your defense mechanisms. He just chuckles, seemingly unbothered by the little outburst. “Well if you are done being a brat, I will show you to where we dine.” He stands up tall and smirks. 

“Uhm, yeah that’d be great I’m starving.” You quickly grab the Co2 mask and secure it back onto your body, and catch him glancing down at your arms littered in various scars, like earlier as if he wants to ask how you got them. Your tail twitches uncomfortably, as you exit your room silently walking down the hallway. “They’re cigarette butt burns.” You sigh.

So’lek says nothing and turns his head to you, and back to the long dim lit hallway. “Hm.. I suppose those are not self inflicted?” He asks calmly, damn well knowing your answer. “Mercer.. he would punish us for speaking our native tongue when we were little. As you can see, I was heavily reprimanded.” You choke out as the past memory races through your mind. “If you like those you should see the cable wire burns on my back! If you need to see how much pain I can take.” You spit out with teeth gritted as a clear indication of trauma in your eyes, but So’lek just looks to you and stops you in your tracks placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Little one, I am not your enemy here. You are safe, what is your name?” He asks softly. You wince, and blink several times not even thinking about the fact that you’ve skipped formalities earlier when he burst though the doors like some fictional tell tale hero you’d read about. You swallow the lump in your throat and make eye contact with him awkwardly. “Kirani…” You just whisper. His ears perk up and flick back and forth, as he smiles “That’s a beautiful name, that’s it?” You know what he’s implying. “I don’t remember my full name..” You sigh sadly gazing to him. “We must change that…I will help you remember. You are Sarentu.” His chest puffs out proudly. 

“Right…” You lightly wiggle out of his grasp, his hands residing on your shoulders much longer than you’re comfortable with but he doesn’t seem to be insulted. “You have a fire inside of you, don’t lose that spark. But you are safe here.” He waves out his hand as you approach the dining hall filled with human and Na’vi communing together in one space. So’lek lightly pushes you forward to walk, finding Ri’nela, Teylan, and Nor sitting with Tani and Priya all smiling and eating food.

“Come, I will show you where the food is.” So’lek beckons you. You go into a cafeteria like room where he hands you a tray and fills it up with delicious smelling rations of various foods. “Here.” He hands it to you like a peace offering while he fills up his own tray, walking out and back into the main dinging area. “Kirani, you made it.” Teylan smiles as you sit down next to them. “Yeah I uh, got distracted in the shower.” You feel your cheeks heat up awkwardly, as So’lek sits beside Tani observing you quietly. 

Ri’nela laughs while Nor just picks at his food. “Hm.” He huffs. “I smell like a flower” Ri’nela smiles. “Yeah me too..” You chuckle and begin to eat the food in front of you, much larger than the rations you were given at TAP. Your belly growls aggressively begging to be satiated properly, as you eat small bites. The chatter around you seems to be a comfortable conversation watching Priya recount the findings of samples from the forest today. 

“I’ll have to teach you guys to weave traditional Na’vi garments, we can’t have you walking around like that.” Tani smiles with her nose scrunched up. So’lek laughs and your ears pin back in shame, as if he’s really laughing at you. He notices your shrunken demeanor and his laugh immediately seizes, blinking several times at you. “It’s best we look as Na’vi as possible. I refuse to wear anything that makes me look like an RDA soldier.” Nor replies. You sense a little bit of bitterness in his words, but no one says anything. 

Priya and Tani go on about how the sky people and Na’vi founded resistance HQ in this part of the Kinglor Forest, and how there’s several sites all around Pandora. “Must you go on about this. Look at them, let them enjoy their meal.” So’lek teases Tani. She just shoves him lightly and laughs, “We will teach you the ways of the Na’vi. We are your new family.” She speaks with warm conviction as her fangs poke out from her wide infectious smile. You turn to Teylan, and Ri’nela who grab your hands as you see Nor smiling cautiously across from you. The unspoken bond you hold for each other could move mountains, and you eat graciously together with the excitement of becoming true Na’vi on the horizon of tomorrow. 

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