#the clothing choices i make are read as feminine *because of the shape of my body* even when theyre technically androgynous

[hotsugarbyglassanimals]

twitter discourse is on another planet right now. there are people bring back the whole "you're not trans if you don't x, y, and z" shit

[queergaygaygaygay]

Something, I just realised that really resonated with me about Gwen in Across Spiderverse, is her clothing.

When around non-spiderfolk adults and at home she wears loose fitting clothing which seems androgynous and hides the shape of her body.

But, when with Miles and her spider friends, she dresses in tight clothing. She’s clearly comfortable with her body when around friends but she seems to feel the need to hide her figure around people outside her friend group.

Similarly, I struggle with my body and didn’t wear shorts or tight fitting clothing for many years because I had problems with how masculine my legs and torso looked due to body hair and my wide shoulders.

These traits caused much dysphoria until I made more accepting friends when I became more comfortable with wearing shorts, tight tops, jeans and even leggings. My dysphoria became less severe around them because I knew they saw me as a girl. I even realised that some of my features were rather feminine like the shape of my legs and hips (though I don’t have curves) so I started empathising them making me appear more feminine and womanly. My shoulders are also not broad compared to most men and it bacame obvious my dysphoria had been exaggerating certain features.

Whilst at home though, or out with family, I wear baggy clothing which, whilst isn’t masculine, hides my shape so no one can tell my sex because I’m scared of my family’s reaction to seeing me in feminine clothing. Simultaneously, I feel less comfortable because I know they will always see me as a boy.

I know many cis girls and boys, especially in their teens. have body image issues and feel more comfortable showing their figure around friends but, to me, Gwen’s choice of outfits, and how they shape her, is very trans. A lot of cis girls (not all) will still dress fem around family but just not in clothes which emphasise their shape but Gwen chooses to dress androgynously around her dad and is more comfortable showing her shape around friends. Of course, it is her choice how she dresses but there’s a definite contrast between her clothes around friends and her clothes around her dad.

This is just a reading and I don’t know how intended it was but I thought it was a cool and fun approach which I found in this video. (Apologies the link can’t be copied here for some unknown reason so here’s a screenshot.) They cover a lot of readings of the film involving queer theory, race theory and comic history.

Also can we just appreciate how cool Gwen looks in every scene. The gender envy is so strong. <3

[aleeyenn]

Hello aleeyenn! I'm the anon who requested and sent that message!

I had to make a whole account because I wanted to show you an image, but anons aren't allowed to do that, so I had to rewrite everything, so my apologies!

Also, my apologize if this is simply weird in general, I dunno if I should stick to Tumblr (since you did, you're the least active here) >.<

But I wanted to say, I'm incredibly happy and honored that my message meant so much to you! I'm really honored and soo hyped because you and your work really mean so much to me, as in your one of my biggest inspirations, so I was so excited to read that!! Thank you! Please keep drawing and creating. (Also, have you considered making full body refs for your gijinkas :o?)

I did want to gush and say why I love your Pin (and all your other gijinkas) and felt really seen. It's because of how unique and out of box the designs are that you rarely see with other designs, while still capturing the same personalities and aesthetic (and even shape sometimes) of the original characters.

But to be specific, thank you for making her super feminine and pretty, while keeping her punk side!!! >u<

Alot of other gijinkas design her in typical biker / rebel chick get up w/ a lot of metal spikes, which dose makes sense, because of her metal part on the top of her (and fits her tough leader role personality wise) a lot of also make her body type in an hourglass, which also makes since, since Irl pins are in those shapes.

But what I really appreciate about your design is that you went in the opposite direction! I love how you made Pin wear these big poofy clothes and aprons! It's not only an easy and unique way to reference the shape of an actual pin, but it highlights a side of her that I don't really see the fandom highlight all that often. Her love of baking, gardening, her being bit of caretaker and just an friendly and easy-going person. I also just love seeing blk and poc women just being so happy and being femmine, it's so rare to see that and makes me so happy.

But another small design choice that I can't over and that made me go over on the edge on the "omg she's literally me" train. Are her punk boots! I know it's there to show off how big and tall she is compared to her meow, but I really like the contrast! And still showing off a little of her and toughie side, that she doesn't mind getting dirty. I love you can show off that is a caring and soft person yet still commanding woman by just a design!

This means so much to me, because I didn't think I could consider myself part of the alt community, due to me being really femmine and plus sized, I thought I didn't really fit, but I think seeing your version of Pin made me realize that being "punk" means so many diffrent things, and I don't really have to be super thing and pale to order to be an part of that culture, and never realizing that I could be considered pretty

Also, I just love how you draw her with your version of Coiny, it's so adorable and again, it's amazing to see a happy plus sized girl being loved and adore by a guy, not be treated as joke., thank you so much

Thats all! My apologizes for going on lesbian and analytical mode on your inbox, I'm deeply sorry if I come across as weird, you probability were not thinking that hard or deep with your designs, but I just really admire of how all of them are breath of fresh air, I have known a specific person that looks exactly like one of designs in my family when I think about it!

I just want to say before I go, is that this what I specifically want to go out and cosplay as, as it's what totally made me single handedly self-confident that I could be pretty in the alt community when I so low on myself

I love this drawing of Pin so much, you have no ideal it meant so much, I know it's sound silly that a doodle affected me, but seriously, I thought I could never look fit in or look pretty in that aesthetic with my weight, interests, and skin

When I saw this and started really seeing myself in it, literally I went in my head "wow, if your Pin can look so beautiful in that, I guess I can!" and it somehow changed a lot of my perspective of me.

Thank you so much again aleeyenn! I'm currently getting started, thank you for making my entire year just by existing and drawing. Keep doing what you are doing and amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing new year!

I WOULDVE ANSWERED THIS SOONER BUT I WANTED TO MAKE A REF FOR PIN FOR YOU! but GAAAHHHH nobody has ever said anything like that to me before and it MEANS SOOOOO MUCH I CANT EXPRESS IT 😭😭😭 when i make humanizations allllll i want is for them to make people feel represented and confident in themselves and MY DREAM CAME TRUE!!!im like. genuinely so happy that you said all that and really analyzed her because i actually put a lot of thought into some humanizations i make and she was one of them… i feel like with a bunch of pin gjinkas they either make her super feminine or super punk without an in between and i wanted to make an in between because it’s what she needs .. nobody like really acknowledges both parts of her i feel like a lot of everyone sees her as a shy anxious girl or rude and cold person because they focus mostly on pre split bfb and that irks me … because shes really not just an anxious person she is a leader and blah blah blah but i really wanted to push every aspect of her into a humanization to make her recognized as herself instead of someone she’s not … but no more rambling THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND IM SO HAPPY MY ART MADE YOU FEEL THAT WAY 😢 you are so sweet and i’m literally over the moon that you like her that much and saw so much in her Like my design isn’t just a design it made someone more confident and accepting of themselves THATS SO CRAZY! thank you thank you thank you… i hope you enjoy these little drawings i whipped up i need to make more references anyway so this was a good head start… THANK HOUUUU and remember there’s nothing more powerful than embracing and being yourself and never stop doing that! YAYYYYY!

[thebreakfastgenie]

🫐 - Are there ways you wish you could present yourself differently, but can’t?

Yes and no. I'm glad you asked this one because I think about this a lot! I would not call myself femme, or especially feminine. I don't participate in most feminine rituals. But I do wear dresses and skirts and stuff, and even when I don't, I read pretty feminine. The thing is, my body shape is just what it is. I'm 5', I have big hips, I have D cups. I also have long hair and while I would still read as a fairly feminine woman without it, it does add to the effect. I think I have feminine facial features, too.

Sometimes I wish I could experiment casually with androgyny. I don't think I would choose to be androgynous very often--I like bright colors and decorative styles that tend to read as feminine, at least in the west--but I would like to try it. Maybe choose it once in a while. I don't want to look particularly masculine and I definitely don't want to pass as a man, I just think moderately androgynous women are amazing and I'd like to try it out. And like, I'm not looking for tips. I don't want to put the level of work in that I would have to. And again, if I had a different body and could try out something else, I would probably still choose to present the way I present now most of the time. I like how I present, I just wonder about choices I don't really have.

I don't think of my body as something that is changeable or has certain customizable parts. That's me and my relationship with my body; I'm not prescribing that to anyone else. To me, I have the body that I have and I love the body that I have and I work with what I've got. It's no different to me than my hair; I have fine, somewhat thin hair, that just doesn't work for a lot of styles I like, especially shorter ones (especially because I can't stand daily product). It's okay! I wish I could wear my hair like that but I can't and it's genuinely fine. I wish I could be a little androgynous just to try it but I can't and it's fine.

I do want to wear men's clothes sometimes but two things hold me back. First, I either wear an extra small or petites in the women's section. Especially since I lost some weight. I like certain oversized items, but I don't like most of my clothes being oversized. It makes me feel like a little kid whose camp t-shirt doesn't fit and it also isn't physically comfortable a lot of the time; it doesn't stay in place and gets in the way. The second thing is I just don't see that many men's clothes that I like. If I ever find something from the men's department that I like the style and fit of I'll get it, but that's such a small selection it will never be a big part of my wardrobe. I like men's clothes conceptually (the idea of it is fun!) and I like the material a lot of them are made of but it doesn't work out for me much.

So yes, if I had a different body type there are different ways I would try presenting myself. I can't because of the body type I have. But I don't wish my body was different just so I could present myself differently.

[sorapikakaminari]

When you realize...

That your fervent wishes upon stars to have pretty dresses were never about just wanting pretty dresses. I asked myself why for several months when I was 7 years old I fervently wished every night to have pretty dresses and to have things in general. I thought for the longest time that I wasn't that deep as a child, that maybe I really was an empty person with no real personality other than that. And it's been within the last year that I thought about why that was, especially with exploring being Nonbinary gender. If I was nonbinary, why was I so obsessed with wearing something that made me look like a girl when I was a kid? It was the most noteable thing about me from back then that people remember. My mom remembering how bad I wanted to be a princess that she knew nothing else about me. She remembered I was smart in school, but never knew I struggled with reading comprehension, or didn't truly know what my social struggles were. She did not know how much I enjoyed playing with my brothers erector set, but never knew how to communicate that. Or how much I loved video games, but never knew how to communicate that. Or how much I loved building things and putting things together. I could hyperfocus on putting something together, but didn't know what that was or what it meant. She just remembered I liked dolls and pink. But in thinking about why I fervently wished for pretty dresses...it was because I noticed that whenever I wore dresses, the world was kinder to me. I was bullied really bad in school. By the time I was in the 2nd grade , I started to struggle with my self esteem and really took notice of what people were actually making fun of me about. And I also remember when I was in the 1st grade, people were kinder to me when I was " pretty". The world was much softer when I was pretty. And back then, my association with prettiness was with dresses and princesses...so I felt if I looked like a princess, the world would be kinder to me. I would be bullied less. But the thing was, I was pretty active when I was a kid. I did a lot of activities that a dress just wasn't practical for. I always had to run around and do cart wheels and roll around in the grass...wearing a dress wasn't always a reasonable choice unless I had shorts underneath. It wasn't until the 3rd grade that I understood that dresses had a time and a place, and they weren't to play outside in. As time went on, I fell in love with them less and less because they were limiting. Though admittedly, I did realize there was a couple of things that still followed me to adulthood that I still loved about dresses. The dresses I favored and wanted to wear all the time as a kid were the ones that when I spun around, they went up and all around me in a circle. Or the ones that if I sat down, it would go " floof" all around me. As and adult, I find those dresses fun and satisfying. But most dresses as I got older were dresses that emphasized my curvy body, or were meant to bring out feminine features rather than just being fluffy and cute. It's hard to find ones now that don't put too much emphasis on the parts of my body I am , even in my thirties, uncomfortable with. So now I make my wishes come true. I actually do make cosplay and make my own clothes, and that means my dresses can be exactly what I want them to be. They can be flowy , artful, and fluffy while telling a story....and at the same time I'm learning what cuts and shapes flatten out my curves so I can enjoy dresses without gender dysphoria. As for the world being kinder to me...I have a lot of neurodivergent traits, so no matter how pretty or pleasing I make myself look, the world will never be kind to me unless we make it better for people like me. But I'm also lucky because I have a wonderful and loving partner and other people in my life making the world kinder, as well as finding so much about life that is kind and beautiful. So it's better for me to learn to be pleasing to myself.

[endobiologist]

Trans Guy Tips #5; Dressing Good

Today, we're going to talk about basic fashion, and some things trans guys specifically need to know when buying a new wardrobe.

Some of these rules can always be broken, it's your body and your choice what to put on it!

However, this is a guide for passing better, so feminine and androgynous looks will not be covered here, only the traditional masculine. I will most likely make a guide out on dressing that way later.

1. Match colors, but don't be afraid to throw in some accent detail colors! Usually when you think of fashion, you think of making everything match, however some things will go better with some contrast rather than plainly matching!

As long as it still has some similarity, it doesn't have to be the same.

The most basic rule you need to learn dressing as a man, is that you wear your belt to your shoes.

If your belt is brown, so should your shoes be.

If your belt is black, they should be black.

Usually most fashion rules can be broken, but this one seems to be very important, as it can throw off the whole appearance of an outfit to have mismatching shoes and belt.

2. Use what I call the finger trick.

When selecting a shirt, specifically a dress shirt, put your fingers in the collar between your neck and the collar.

If you can comfortably fit two or even maybe barely three fingers in there, then that's a perfect fit shirt around your neck.

If you can fit four or more fingers, it's loose and will make you look baggy and overweight.

If you can fit only one, or feel any pressure on your throat, you need a looser shirt because it's too tight.

3. Somewhat similar, but when buying pants, this may be the most important thing of all.

If you get the right set of pants, it can disguise even the biggest of curves.

You want to get what's known as a straight-leg jean pant, you can make it a cargo pant if you wish, either one looks very masculine and good.

I would usually recommend bootcut pants if you wear longer shoes, like boots, or combat boots, or anything you need to tuck the jeans into.

Always get pants that don't feel constricting, and always get them where they fit comfortably with a belt, but don't need a belt due to fitting good already.

But straight-leg type is so important to go for, it's one of the things that makes a boxy figure like a cis man's.

4. I'm not sure if this is obvious or may come as a surprise to some people, but even if you like dressing femininely, if you wish to pass, I would suggest always shopping in the men's section.

They have shirts and pants and everything else under the sun that shaped specifically for men's bodies, making yours look even more like a cis man's, which is very gender affirming. Also women's jeans are made to support the butt and make you look feminine and curvy, while men's are designed to be straight, boxy, and comfortable, usually with deep pockets too!

5. Similar to the matching rule before, you can match a busy pattern shirt with a plain pair of pants, or busy pattern and pants with a plain shirt. However if you put too many busy patterns, or too much plainness, either way makes you look not as good.

Try to balance the detail with the simplicity.

6. Overall the most masculine thing you can wear especially pre-t, is either a formal or casual suit.

You can even wear just a dress shirt with a tie or bow tie, with some dress shoes and pants, and you're good!

This just generally makes you look super masculine and it's hard to mistake.

7. if you're like me, where you like to dress flamboyantly, but you're also super dysphoric about it, wait until you get testosterone therapy.

If you end up having it and you start seeing positive effects before dressing femininely, it's great!

I did this and now I feel totally comfortable with it, as no one ever misunderstands me even if I wear the most feminine things ever.

So if you're going on t, feel free to dress more extravagantly during because you will pass even so!

8. Another way to check shirts that are long sleeved, particularly dress shirts, is to tuck it in like usual, and then lift up your arms really high like you're reaching for something.

If it untucks or lifts the fabric in an unflattering way where your armpits look huge, it's cut wrong and is not something you should buy.

9. This may be surprising to some, but yes, cis men will wear feminine designs on masculine outfits.

I can't count the number of times I've seen men wearing bright pink suits. Other times there's been crop tops, painted nails, hair done, everything.

So if you really like that button up with the flowers on it, but are feeling hesitant due to the feeling that people might judge you, don't worry!

Maybe some will, but a lot of people wear unique clothing, and no one will be as bad as what your thoughts say to you.

10. I have somewhat of a warning, as good and fun they are, t-shirts can be very revealing when it comes to showing your chest, even through your binder! Something about them isn't cut quite right, even if they come from the manliest man's site or store.

If you still wish to wear t-shirts like I do, I would recommend getting a short-sleeved or long-sleeved Dickies button up jacket/shirt that you wear open over it. Or any jacket thing, really. This covers your chest completely and negates that effect.

11. This is sort of more hygiene base but still has to do with getting dressed. Always use men's soap, and men's cologne, and men's essential oils, and men's lotion, if you have them.

Also use some aftershave, it's helpful if it has lotion mixed in and moisturizes as well.

You can even shave even if you're pre-t, due to it making a clean feeling due to there being no feminine peach fuzz on it. This can help support dysphoria relief, as well because it feels like you're shaving a beard, at least until it comes in.

When your moustache and beard do come in from testosterone, if you take it, make sure to oil it lightly with natural oils like argan oil or coconut oil, the stimulates hair growth and follicle health.

And I would recommend shaving just once as it starts developing, so it develops thicker, stronger, and more handsome.

12. If you're planning on going on t, buy at least some of your clothing a size or a few sizes up, or getting a duplicate that's larger.

You will grow, so if you buy all your clothing in a smaller size, you'll probably end up unable to use any of it.

13. Always position your belt buckle in the center of your stomach, the way you can tell if it's positioned right is if it lines up with the buttons of your button up perfectly.

14. When wearing a suit try to always keep the bottomless button unbuttoned. That button isn't actually there to be used, it's meant to be unbuttoned and it makes it look so much better.

The reason it looks so much better is because it makes it flattering and thinning. If you button all the buttons, it will make you look heavy due to it tightening around your waist and stomach.

15. You should always have at least two pairs of dress shoes. one pair that's black, and one pair that's brown. Same with belts. It's also recommended for summer that you keep one pair of masculine flip flops or sandals or sneakers around.

16. This is more of a suggestion than anything, however it's manly as fuck, and people love it.

If you carry a work knife, a pocket watch, a small portable multitool, and a handkerchief.

Possibly even a pen and small notepad with you at all times.

This may seem odd at first, but it's what men used to do constantly in the older days.

These items can come in very useful. A work knife can open packages, open letters, be used in place of scissors occasionally, and even used to defend yourself and others.

A pocket watch is just fancy and shows you're always trying to be on time.

A multi-tool shows you're ready for any task, and it can be a lifesaver in many situations!

Meanwhile a handkerchief is important, because if you ever come across someone crying, or someone wounded, you can lend them or give them your handkerchief, which is a very gentlemanly thing to do, and it can help you pass better, as well as it just being a kind thing to do for someone.

The pen and small notepad is always good to carry on you regardless of any gender, due to you needing to write things down often.

17. Ironically, although socks with sandals seems to be a fashion 'no-no' to most people, I quite like them, and it seems like I pass better with them.

Men tend to wear those slip-on flip flop things, and when you wear socks with it it makes you look very masculine, even if it may look silly to some.

Personally I like it a lot.

18. If you do wish to do makeup & nails, I would suggest doing it as black and gothic as possible, as that's the most common style guys do it as, and if you do it in a certain way, it can come out looking way masculine.

And that concludes my fifth part of this Trans Guy Tips series!

Thank you for reading, and I hope anything I said helped!

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 5: New Avenues

Austin gets some distressing news, and a new enemy enters the ring.

Mostly a chapter of these two growing closer. Plus some plot I guess.

The roads thinned out the longer I drove. The Connor’s remained quiet for the most part, Sarah Connor the only one to speak giving me directions to avoid crowded roads. I didn’t need them, and the urge to take actions against her for daring to order me about is strong, but my mission and side objective are too important to risk aggravating the matriarch. She finally stops after one final order to pull into an abandoned garage next to a gas station. The T-800 leaves to open the garage door, the simple lock it has breaks under the sheer strength of the T-800 model. As soon as the car is parked the others climb out. Sarah quickly herds her children as far away from me as the small space will allow. I grant them their ill perceived safety as I walk along the wall on the opposite side. I stop near a door as I receive a message. A message sent by Skynet and received across time and space.

“Mission Failure”

My sudden inaction goes unnoticed by the eldest and youngest Connor but not by Aria.

“Austin, what’s wrong?” A certain lilt to her voice indicative of concern, similar to when she spoke to John and her mother. A concern more likely directed towards them, given the glimmer of fear still present in her eyes when she looks at me.

“Skynet has deemed me defective, my mission has been labeled a failure.” I respond, my voice ringing hollow even to me.

“You said you abandoned your mission. Why are you surprised?” She asks but her calm demeanor indicates she isn’t as surprised as her words make her out to be.

“I lied.” A strange feeling changes my tone without my say. A grave itching sensation as if something is trying to claw its way out from inside me. My teeth grind against themselves.

"So you were still planning to kill me." This time Johns is the one to speak.

"Of course I was!" I don’t have the patience to pretend anymore. Processing the news, and this new feeling takes precedence over keeping up the facade. I turn and walk out the door. Silence will be more beneficial to me than answering any banal questions they might have. The sound of the door opening again alerts me to Aria's presence, I see her just out of my periphery. The light from the gas station showing off the shine in her dark brown hair. She pulls her cardigan closed across her bare midriff. The night had dropped several degrees, she must be feeling the chill that resulted from it.

“You ok?” She asks. I understand this question to be a very common nicety among humans. Oftentimes an honest answer is not at all what the asker desires.

“I’m still in functioning form.”

“That’s… good but not what I meant,” She says, coming to sit next to me on the bench pulling up her legs to hold them close to her, “I mean what are you going to do now that you don’t have a mission anymore?”

“I still have one objective.”

“You do?!”

“I still haven’t been loved by you.” I tell her. She flinches back when I turn to look at her head.

“You were serious about the whole love thing?!”

“I was, still am.” Now without Skynet, the only purpose left to me is the one I assigned myself, “I don’t have any purpose otherwise. I was never meant to return to my time, Skynet would have no need for me anyway.” I tell her bluntly, that fact seems to change that clawing to a weighty bulk. My form sinking under it involuntarily. Aria lets go of herself, letting her feet hit the ground. She leans forward to meet my eyes, a smile just barely on her lips.

“Join the club. Looking for purpose is something every human struggles with.” She says as she stretches her arms upward. Her cardigan falls open to reveal a glimpse of a leather harness carrying a small sidearm. So that's where she got that gun.

“But I am not human.”

“No, but it looks like you’re going to have to learn.” She says as she stands. Most likely intent on rejoining her family but stops as she looks back at me. She lifts her hand, reaching out before pausing.

“Can I?” she asks. I nod. After all, there’s nothing she can do to harm me so what... oh. 

Oh

Slim fingers card through my hair, or what substituted for it. I register the warmth of her palm and the texture of her hand as she musses up the styling before working to smooth it back.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh right, sorry,” She removes her hand removing the warmth but leaving behind another new “feeling” to deal with, “Your second lesson, some people show affection through physical contact. The why and how depends on the situation and the type of relationship. I was... trying to comfort you.”

“Is it always like this, these signs of physical affection?”

“Not exactly, It’s usually only done when people are close to each other.” I stand to be more eye level with her, despite the obvious height difference. As I do I take note of the slim distance between us and her reaction, the dilated pupils that show off more of the forest hue of her eyes, and a slight hitch in her breathing.

“I want to be closer to you.” Her eyes widen at my words, a rosy dusting settles across her cheeks, curious, “How close are you to John?” Aria lets out a breath, body seemingly deflating at my question.

“Oh right, you want to be closer to me like John, my brother.” She remarks seemingly talking more to herself than to me. “I don’t know if there is a clear answer to that other than the fact that he’s my brother. Let’s just head back inside. We can figure the rest out later, Ok?” She looks at me one more time before turning away. I realize that her eyes didn’t show any fear or trepidation when she did. I follow after her back into the garage. When I enter I see the T-800 sitting in front of a mirror fixing up what looks to be a gash wound on his head. Carefully arranging his hair and tissue to conceal it. Sarah Connor stands between him and John who’s busy fiddling with a radio that was obviously taken from the police car.

“What did we miss?” Aria asked after taking in the sight.

“Mom and I cracked open his head,” John answered distractedly. Pointing vaguely in the T-800’s direction, “We reprogrammed him so now he can learn to be less weird.” They must have switched him from ‘Read Only’ to ‘Write’. Aria looks like she’s going to speak but is cut off by her mother who pulls her away to speak privately. It won’t do any good considering my sensors work at a higher capacity than a human’s so I take a seat on a nearby metal chair to listen in.

“Aria, I know I went along with this back at the hospital but if I understand correctly that thing was using a false truce to try and kill John later on?”

“That’s about it. He apparently played his part so well Skynet basically abandoned him because of it.”

“...It just admitted to planning to kill us.”

“Yes but he isn’t gonna now though, and isn’t that good news,” She said, but a tremble in her voice makes the statement sound more like a question. By the silence that follows Sarah Connor obviously doesn’t believe it. Aria lets out a tired sigh, “Mom, you didn’t see him out there, he just looked so... lost,” The admission has me looking over at them just in time to lock eyes with Aria before she quickly turns back to Sarah who isn’t convinced.

“That is still a Terminator.”

“All the more reason to have him here where we can keep tabs on him rather than out there doing who knows what.”

“Having both of those things around is just putting John in danger!”

“He’ll be in danger anyway. Skynet will try again and Austin has the most up to date information. If we turn him away we'll be exposing ourselves to dangerous surprises.” Sarah seems to concede, walking away to retake her place next to John. Who managed to get the radio working. The blank static from the police radio gives way to voices talking quickly about vandalism, murder, theft, more murder, and the missing status of a young girl. Kathrine Brewster.

Across town in the shopping district. A boutique window begins to light up, not by the electrical lights installed but by the streaks of lighting emanating from a silver sphere growing and heating up before bursting and disappearing in a blinding flash. A slim feminine figure is left behind crouching amongst the mannequins. The woman takes a moment to scan her new surroundings before looking at them. She doesn’t find what she’s looking for, the clothing they wear burned beyond repair and recognition. No way to make accurate replications. So she takes to the streets walking along the sidewalk, her long blond hair the only modicum of decency but she continues unbothered. A beep catches her attention; the sound comes from a car being unlocked. The woman who owns it walks quickly unaware of the newcomer or their intentions until she spots them after getting into her car. The woman’s nudity caught her by surprise. 

“Omg,” She whispers to herself in disbelief before the concern sets in, “Are you ok!?” She calls out in an attempt to help but receives no response from the approaching naked woman who is currently scanning her vehicle. While outdated to the mechanical being, it is rather high-end for the time. A good choice of transportation.

“Do you want me to call 911?” The woman tries again, thinking the poor girl in a state of shock or something of the like. The blonde finally faces her, giving a soft smile that doesn't reach her eyes and reaches forward to touch the clothing near her neckline. Fingers splayed and placed methodically to sample each type of fabric.

“I like this car.”

“What?” The woman asks, confused. Her last words before the Terminator quickly swipes her hand away, efficiently slicing her neck. She easily lifts the woman out of the car and drops her onto the pavement. Leaving her there to bleed out. Clothing reminiscent of the dying woman's begin to take shape on her naked form. Detailed down to the hair bun. She lets herself into the car before starting it up and driving off. She helps herself to the woman’s purse pulling out a cell phone, a quick disassembly gives access to the inner workings and the service it’s connected to. Liquid metal seeps into the SD card allowing her to search the database for names, faces and addresses. A list quickly forms of future enemies of Skynet, of people she is tasked to terminate. She charts a course for the nearest address. The Brewster residence.

[nightswithkookmin]

Hey Goldy,

feel free to disagree but i was thinking about the whole jimin wanting to bulid muscles thing and i remembered blood sweat and tears era....the whole thing back then was that he was pushing himself to look like what an idol is 'supposed' to look like. so right now him trying to bulid muscles might be bcuz he wants to look more like a perfect idol and just have the kind of body that is expected of him as an idol. this is similar to many female idols trying to be really skinny to fit in with the toxic standards of being an idol. so more so than toxic masculinity i guess we should be worried about him conforming to toxic idol body standards.

If you don't mind, I agree with you.

Your point is equally part of the discourse: unrealistic male body standards, strict and toxic beauty standards for idols, toxic masculinity- I think they are all intersectional cousins living on the same continent. It don't mean they are mutually exclusive or that the presence of one excludes the other.

Jimin could very well be grappling with all of these at once we will never know- much like headache. You think it's just your head, next you know you feeling cold too, then you're dizzy, puking, passing out and explaining to your doctor why you're gay but think your period is late. Then you find out you're not pregnant but you wish you were because what you've been diagnosed with is far worse than being pregnant by a phantom Male who probably might have raped you when you were passed out even though you hate men and it's like WHAT ARE WE EVEN HERE ON EARTH FOR?!

Not that any of that happened to me.

As I said in the last post, I think skinny and androgymasculine is the body standard for men in Kpop. Most male idols who get cosmetic surgery or makeup do not do it to enhance their traditional masculine features. They try to look soft and feminine- especially around the jaw so it looks more oval and feminine.

When any of the members gain body weight they are immediately placed on a diet- whether or not that is healthy is another issue to debate on. You know what I think.

Fans and antis alike blatantly call the members fat and complain about their appearance, that they look chubby or fat even though sometimes it's just the bulkiness that comes from building muscles.

Much like Jimin defending Jungkook when a fan called him fat. He explained it was muscle not fat. What's wrong with being fat?

The fatphobia and fat shaming in Kpop is one conversation I sincerely don't think y'all are ready for, given recent events. Didn't Suga, the lady from Twice and one guy from Enhypen come under such vicious attacks for being fat in recent times?

People were making fun of her for being 'fat' and some assumed initially she was pregnant or something of the sorts- allegedly. Can't verify the source or identify how recent this was.

That this piece was written by someone called I love BTS is not ironic, the main irony is that the lady being fat shamed for showing her biceps and belly had just returned from a hiatus during which she had sought psychological treatment for her mental health.

The things these Idols do to maintain the looks we see on screen is outrageous and really worrying- to some of us at least. Jungkook recently saying he didn't eat anything for about 5 days when they filmed the butter MV gave me palpitations. I hope they stop glorifying these things as if it's something to be proud of. It's disconcerting at best. But what do I know, I have to leave people to make their own choices I'm told.

If I choose to harm myself because I feel pressured by my work environment it's not a choice it's oppression. Just saying.

And yes, people can CHOOSE to do bad things to themselves. it don't make those bad choices right and that's the nuance of the conversation we are having.

And I hope people who fat shame the boys know and understand the risks they take and how hard they work to meet these beauty and body standards- IT'S RIDICULOUS.

Jimin calling himself fat is not a choice. It's him cracking under the pressure of Idolhood. Like I said, he is prone to these things. And saying he is mature now and so he cannot be affected by these pressures is obtuse and toxically positive.

If you've been paying attention to Jimin for sometime now since On Era last year, he's not been talking positively about his body especially whenever they talk about his early days and when they've reacted to their debut.

He's talked about how his body looked so great then as compared to now- even though it was ON ERA and he looked pretty buffed- relatively speaking.

RM felt his biceps and told him his body now was ok. Seems to me whatever is going on with him and his view of his body now didn't just begin. Something is just acting as catalyst and bringing it all up to the surface.

He's comparing himself to his debut days and thinking that masculine aesthetics- which he himself said was a trap for him and was glad he had overcome that, "hurry up and be me now" - he's backpedaling to say that looks better than his present look.

Towards the end of 2020 we saw him proudly sporting Illucebra Arcanus- male and female adjectives, the bigender symbol, and proudly comparing his body to a flower because he says it was delicate.

But it seems to me he is struggling internally with identifying himself or trying to fit into these labels external to him. Not to be psychoanalytic or anything. I think I talked about this in one of my blogs. A florist described him as delicate during Run and he's since been using that word to describe his features. I think he wears his internal struggles on his identity on his sleeves which is very typical of people with dual like gender identities or identities that exist on a spectrum ranging from one form to the other rather than being gender A or B- sometimes those identities conflict.

He's on a journey to self discovery I'd say and that includes deciding for himself what he is rather than bending to the labels of what people think he is or should be.

Androgyny can be attained by make up, or clothes- it can be fashion or trend but it is also a valid form of identity.

All these songs they write about persona, ego, map of the soul... these are very Carl Jung in nature and it's not far fetched to assume they dabble in these things and learn from it to shape their own understanding of who they are- Jimin pays attention to these things and if you are a huge fan of his you'd know which moments I'm referring to.

Non of these however exempts him or preclude him from having toxic notions of masculinity I'm afraid.

It's like assuming gay people can't be homophobic or black people can't be racist.

I don't know why people are struggling to wrap around that Jimin struggles with toxic masculinity tendencies when he has addressed that very issue himself on several occasions- I'm simply putting a name to it. Toxic masculinity don't mean he is a toxic person or man. A toxic man can have toxic masculinity on top of his toxicity.

A woman can be a perpetrator of toxic masculinity if they are prone to expecting men to behave in a certain way that is harmful to men and other women.

These are the people who call skinny, effeminate men weak and gay and expect or encourage men to be heroes, and violent and aggressive and even nurture those traits in their men.

I do agree with Jimin pushing himself to look like the perfect idol in the past- I did, have and will continue to condemn that choice he makes from time to time just as I condemn the toxic masculinity now.

It's interesting how you see him bending to the pressures to look as an idol in kpop as a problem and articulate it well but fail to see that an ad which is pro manly men would have a similar effect on him to push him to look a certain way which is opposite of how he looks naturally- especially when he's been questioning himself for quite some time now.

If fat shaming causes idols to loose weight, there's a shaming that causes effeminate men to want to bulk up. And if the former is fatphobia and can be internalized, the later is toxic masculinity and can be internalized too.

If an idol loosing weight to meet a strict standard is not about their choice and personal body preference, skinny men gyming to bulk up isn't so much about choice either. It's nuanced in that way and those two can be happening together at the same time.

I'm ok if he is not feeling pressured to look a certain way- whether skinny or buff. If it's his choice and his alone it is not toxic masculinity or internalized fatphobia.

I loved reading your POV. Thank you.

Signed,

GOLDY

[aro-comics]

Fashion Analysis (Part 5: Aromanticism & Fashion?)

[Note: This post is a part of a series analyzing self-expression, fashion, aromanticism, and how they interact with other parts of identity. For full context please read the whole thing!]

Aromanticism and Fashion?

Now that we have gone through LGBTQ+ History with fashion, and the importance of self expression - I think we’re in a good place with all this context to discuss how aromanticism and fashion can intersect. (and again, as a disclaimer, all of this is purely speculative!). 

Personally, I think there may be a few philosophies on how Aromanticism and Fashion may interact. You can look at it a few different ways, either considering the influence amatonormativity may have on our methods of dress, but also the context in which Aromantic communities are forming (online). 

On the influence of Amatonormativity

Up until this point I’ve been side-stepping the consideration of amatonormativity – but it does impact self-expression, I think, and it’s worth discussing it’s relation to aromanticism.

I had a discussion with one of my aroace friends about the idea of wanting to avoid “attention” in the romantic and/or sexual sense growing up. There is an inherent tie-in with wanting to appear desirable (as shown in the beginning of the comic, and also reinforced through many pieces of popular media), with romantic outcomes. In both of our experiences, I believe it made the idea of being seen as conforming to beauty norms an uncomfortable activity. 

And looking back to lesbian fashion history too, we can see this subversion of heteronormative expectation is tied into a lot of their community’s means of dress. Which leads me to wonder - will we also see this with an emerging Aromantic sense of fashion? How could this impact clothing choice, and general expression as it relates to an amatonormative society? 

I want to note that personally, outside of professional contexts, I like to dress femininely in a subversive and “alternative” way. I LOVE the idea of being hyperfeminine as a performance, being a living, breathing, work of art, while simultaneously creating an aesthetic that would not consider “attractive” in an amatonormative context. And another aroace friend has confirmed feeling this way with me too! She mentioned she likes to dress in a way that will make women go “wow, we love this outfit” but at the same time cause *conservative straight old men* go “what are you wearing” (to paraphrase our conversation). 

I think some good examples of this from my personal experience would be the following:

1. I love aggressive, graphic liner - generally makeup is thought of as something that feminizes the face, something that softens. But I also like to use it to create the angles and shapes that adorn my face, something abstract for the sake of being beautiful. Like mentioned before, I don’t want to appear romantically attractive to anyone, and I think that for me, at least, this is a part of using femininity to subvert these expectations. 

2. I love ethereal-looking, avant-garde sheer dresses, not in the sense that they could be romanticized, but in the way they again make me feel detached from the idea of beauty for the sake of appealing to anyone else. Instead, for me it feels like beauty as a wild, untameable form of nature and being. 

But … maybe I should mention the unconventional tastes are partially tied to the fact I spend a lot of time in creative spaces because of my degree, and overall I am exposed to more diverse ranges of self-expression to begin with! Either way, though, I am curious what other aros have to say, so feel free to let me know your experiences with this. I’d love to provide an update with thoughts from other aros! 

Forming Community Online and its Possible Impacts

The online nature of the development of Aro Culture leads me to wonder if this medium of interaction will influence the development of our fashion, much like how it influences the development of fashion overall.  For example, with tiktok, the app is often credited for its major influence on modern fashion trends (and leading to the emergence of microtrends). 

Most visual designs are being affected by the way social media algorithms work too. The “allegria style” created by facebook, otherwise known as the “flat gangly limbed drawing style beloved by tech companies”, has exploded in popularity. Regardless of how one might feel about the widespread adoption of this style of illustration, it’s clear that it has significant advantages that have led to its popularity, one of which is its ability to be “consumed” or visually understood at high speed due to its graphic nature and simple design. Basically, when people look at things on their phones, and they’re scrolling quickly, they’re more likely to understand what they see and interact with what they see if it’s easy to visually “read”. And I truly believe that this is influencing most forms of design, including fashion (which subsequently, will influence aro fashion). If you’d like to learn more about this subject, sources 14, 15, and 16 provide more insight into how social media algorithms have influenced design and visual culture at large. 

I think another factor to consider here is the effect of seeing the whole world at once - having the influence of all different media, visuals, and pop culture at the same time has created a very unique environment for development. As one example, the wider aspec communities have developed with the existence of our flags (which are purple and green centered for ace and aro respectively). This would be knowledge that wouldn’t be so easily spread through the whole community in a pre-internet era, and I personally (THIS IS ONLY MY THEORY) feel this is part of the reason there is a far stronger connection to these colours within aspec culture. It’s something that unifies us and was one of our first introductions to the community (since most of us probably looked up the definition of aromantic, or asexual, online), and I think for this reason these colours hold special significance and are present in a lot of of our means of self expression and communication with other members of our community. 

Obviously, the formation of symbols and ways of self-identification will occur anyway (many symbols exist for other members of the LGBTQ+ community too), but I do think being online has a particular influence on the ways community symbols are communicated, and create a different context in where these cultural symbols take shape.

[Note from Author: For Part 6, click here!]

[piratesfromspace]

The Nightmare (Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Cobb Vanth x Reader

Summary: Reader has a pretty awful and vivid nightmare involving Din, Cobb and them being kidnapped. Comfort ensues.

This story is part 3 of my series “A Mandalorian, a Marshal, and some complicated feelings”. You can read part 1 here: “Two saviors and some hope” and part 2 here: Five Times. I strongly advise you read them first!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: detailed description of violence, blood, threat of sexual violence (but no actual), threat of slavery

A/N: Neutral pronouns for reader but they are perceived as feminine by the villain (no specific description of Reader's body). English is not my native language, please be kind. Fic also available on ao3.

MASTERLIST

Part 1   Part 2

“On your knees.”

You fall on your knees on the cold steel floor of the ship. You don’t really remember how you ended up here, the only thing that you know is that the hand that pushed you down is now grabbing a fistful of your hair to have you raise your head. It’s an order more than an invitation, the pressure on your neck on the brink of becoming unbearable at any moment.

Your captor is towering above you, dark-blue skin and mean red eyes looking at you with something dark in them. You struggle against his grip, but it’s useless and you know it. Your hands are tightly bound behind your back. You’re already hurting all over, the taste of blood and despair in your mouth. He finally lets go of your hair, and your head falls limply on your chest.

“I told you I couldn’t wait to put a new chip in your brain, right? Well let’s get on with this.” You can guess the cruel smile on his face, the disturbing way he seems to be enjoying all of this way too much. “Hold her down.”

Two of his thugs grab your shoulders and upper arms, preventing you from going anywhere. You feel his own hand grab your neck, and the touch of his bare slimy skin against yours sends a chill of disgust through your whole body. The cold device bumps into your neck, just above his fingers, and as a wave of terror hits you, you feel a sharp pinch followed by an awful sensation of burn slowly spreading in your nape.

“So? Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

He removes the metallic device and lets it fall on a nearby tray with a theatrical clatter. Tears are filling your vision with the realization that all you’ve done up until now, trying to survive and build a new life for you, all of this was for nothing. You’re a prisoner again, with a freaking tracker chip stuck to your skull.

“Now, what else did I promise back in this small alley…” He circles you slowly, like a freaking loth-wolf playing with his prey before killing it - or worse .

“Oh yeah, I think I mentioned your two little friends.” He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at his face. His pupils are blown wide, two orbs of blackness in a glowing sea of lava-red. “So I think we should welcome them then, what do you say?”

It’s like he’s speaking about actual friends, and his casualness becomes more and more terrifying as you’re living, helpless, your own demise.

With a quick move of his hand, he signals his crew and a few seconds later, the door in front of you slides open. Your jaw goes slack as you watch half a dozen of the slaver’s men bringing in the Marshal and the Mandalorian. Despite their hands bound and the chains linking their ankles, even visibly exhausted by what should have been a long and gruesome fight, the criminals are having a hard time containing them both. They are coerced into kneeling, strongly held back by your captor’s henchmen, facing you.

“No, no, no, no...” it’s a whisper at first, but it becomes a scream you cannot hold back. Through your tears, you can see the dried blood in Cobb’s beard, the mess of mud and dark unknown fluids on the rare pieces of beskar still on Din’s body. You're almost relieved to find he still has his helmet on, even though the black glass of the visor is visibly cracked.

A blue hand is suddenly splayed across your mouth and chin, shutting you up.

“Shh shh, that’s how you say hello to your friends? Not very nice!”

In a reckless reaction, you withdraw from his hold in a quick move of your head and bite his nearby fingers with all the strength left in you. He jerks back, cursing, holding his injured hand while a few droplets of blood trickle on his clothes. You don’t have the time to savor your little victory before the strength of his blow forces your face to the side. You kinda knew there was going to be a backlash, and you don’t regret it. Your cheek was already bruised anyway.

“You’ll regret this.” he growls through gritted teeth.

You hear him rummaging behind you, probably trying to swipe his hand clean from the blood on it. Good luck with that.

“Well, where were we? Oh. Right. My mark. Bring me my tool.” he snaps his fingers impatiently and one of his goons brings him what looks like a branding iron. The end of it is star-shaped, and you can see sparks running around the metallic edge, ready to burn his mark into your flesh.

You start trashing against the hands that hold you down, a vain attempt to escape what’s coming next. You’re not the only one struggling though, Cobb and Din trying to break free as well.

“Let them go!” Mando’s voice, usually steady, sounds desperate “The bounty put on my head by the Hutts, I bet it’s high enough, you don’t need to keep them. You don’t need to keep him either.” he says with a nod of his head toward Cobb. “If you free them, I’ll promise I’ll let you deliver me to whoever offers the highest reward.”

“Din, no, please...” Cobb seems to be on the verge of crying.

The Chiss seems to be gauging the offer. The smile on his face grows bigger and he finally speaks, looking thrilled.

“That’s an interesting offer, Mandalorian.” his smile changes into a mockery of a pout. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. See, I’m sure I’ll be able to get a very good price for your girlfriend here. Look, almost as pretty as a Twi’Lek! She’s worth some credits for sure... even more so if I trade her as a pleasure slave.” He says this part with a nasty grin, deliberately taunting the men who were supposed to protect you, like you weren’t even there. For him it’s not about you, it’s about getting revenge for that one time they freed you. You’re just a pawn in his little game. Anger joins the atrocious cocktails of emotions you’re already feeling. Of course, both Din and Cobb battle against their shackles and the men trying to contain them, letting out threats you all know they can’t follow up on.

“Enough of this.” The Chiss barks. “Now before we begin, one more thing, Mandalorian. I would not want for you to miss anything because of a broken visor.” He turns to the two guards in the back of the room. “Remove his helmet.”

You shriek, and as unholy hands grab the beskar, you close your eyes. Cobb’s yelling is breaking your heart, you hear metal clatters, fabric being ripped, the muffled thud of a blow in the gut. You squeeze your eyes even harder, you don’t want to know what’s really happening, don’t want to see Din’s face, not like this. Of course you had already imagined seeing what he looked like, but on his own terms, when and if he wanted to, not forced by some evil brute.

“Oh come on, open your eyes woman, I’m sure you want to see.” You shake your head. Your captor starts losing patience. “Open your eyes, or you won’t have any left” he threatens, his fist grabbing your hair again.

“Did you hear what I said?”

He tugs so painfully at your scalp, you’re so scared, you’re so lost, you finally give up and open your eyes. Your vision is blurry but your gaze falls immediately on Din’s face. He’s handsome despite the sweat and the dark traces of blood smearing his face, features almost like you had imagined them. He’s looking at the floor, livid, and you can’t even fathom the hurt and the shame of the humiliation to be exposed like this, on top of being unable to prevent both of his lovers from getting hurt.

“Yoo too, look at him!” Your tormentor is next to Cobb now, almost strangling him, trying to make him follow his order. The Marshal makes a series of desperate noises, gasping for air, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Stop it, please! Please...” The distress in Din’s voice is gut-wrenching. It’s the first time you hear him plead for mercy.

“It’s okay, Cobb, do as he says, it’s okay, I swear.” Cobb probably knows it’s not okay, and that the reassuring words are nothing but a way for Mando to try stopping the arm done to him. But he has no choice than to listen and he finally looks at him.

You can read the word sorry on Cobb’s lips when his eyes meet Din’s.

“You all are a bit stubborn, for Maker’s sake.” Your captor looks slightly upset. “But we’re not done yet.” He comes back behind you, and takes his branding tool while the guards holding you slice open the back of your shirt with a vibroblade. You can hear the device buzz to life behind the protests of your two beloved and the voice of the Chiss.

“You better stay still for your own sake.”

You can’t think of a reply because the tip of the iron touches your skin, just next to your right shoulder blade, and the pain eats away all your thoughts. It hurts like hell and more. You try to squirm away from the device in a gut-reaction. But it’s worse. You want to scream but there is not enough air into your lungs and it feels like you can’t take any more breaths. Your vision is filled with dark spots and you’re sure you’re gonna faint any second.

That’s when you wake up.

With a small gasp, drenched in sweat, out of breath. The room is dark and quiet. You silently slip out of the bed, heading for the refresher and trying not to disturb the two men peacefully sleeping next to you.

You put your head under the faucet, letting the cold water run on your face, fingers rubbing your skin, like you’re trying to erase the memories of the nightmare.

Kriff, what is wrong with me?

There is a soft knock on the door.

“You ok sweetheart?” Cobb’s voice is still hoarse with sleep.

You let the door slide open to reveal your Marshal, tall and handsome with his messy grey hair. The familiar figure warms your mood more than you expected.

“Just a nightmare.”

“Like the usual ones?”

“Not… really.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Mmm” it’s not a yes, neither a no.

“Want to go back to bed?” he tries tentatively.

“I don’t think I can sleep right now. The suns are gonna start rising anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m not sleepy either.” you know it’s a blatant lie because Cobb had been yawning non-stop since the beginning of your conversation.

“I’ll go make us some caf. And then we can even watch the sunrise if you’d like.” He adds with a kind smile. You appreciate the offer nonetheless.

“Join me when you want, honey.” he turns his heels to leave but you stop him in his way.

“Cobb?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a hug?”

He lets out a chuckle and takes you in his arms. You melt into the warmth of his body, your head resting on the solid plane of his chest. He leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before heading to the kitchen.

When you join him, he’s already on the small deck in front of his house, and he hands you a steaming mug of sugary caf. You sit on the bench, next to him, and he wraps an arm around you, his hand resting on your waist. You sip on the hot drink, tongue almost burning, letting it ground you in the moment. The air is just warm, not as cold as during the night, not yet as scorching as during the day. The two suns are lazily rising above the horizon, the sky all sorts of pinkish colors.

“You know, this nightmare, it was… It felt so real.”

He hums in approbation, doesn’t want to interrupt you.

“Remember when I told you what he said that night in Mos Eisley?”

No more details are needed for him to understand who and what you’re talking about.

“Well, everything he said… it happened in my nightmare. He captured me. And you, and Din.”

“Hey, it’s over now, ‘was just a bad dream. I won’t let anyone hurt the people I love, I promise.”

He tucks you closer against him and you know he means it. You clear your throat, hesitant to go on.

“The worst wasn’t the pain, wasn’t even when he mentioned he would sell me to a brothel or something, it was when he removed Din’s helmet and he forced us to watch.”

You needed to let this detail out of your system. You leave out the part involving a star-shaped mark, at least for now, because you know Cobb is wearing one on his back and you don't want to bring back more bad memories.

Cobb’s fingers are clenching against your hips. He sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to experience this, love. I know how dreams can seem so vivid, it’s legit traumatizing. Please wake me up next time, I don’t care if I’m having the best sleep of my life, I want you to feel safe, always. I’ll do anything you need me to.”

“I know.” you whisper, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

You take another sip of the delicious liquid out of your cup, and as the light of the two suns is slowly casting the streets of Mos Pelgo into an orange glow, warming up the sand and your skin, you feel like the shadow of your nightmare is finally retreating, burnt away by the new dawn.

[notjustaprincess-youknow]

⌜TASK 020: INTERVIEW⌟

tw: mentions of death.

BASIC QUESTIONS.

first name? kiara.

surname? santucci.

middle names? sarabi.

nicknames? idk, i think simba’s called her keeks. vitani’s called her princess but that was kinda mocking? idk people. choose your own adventure.

date of birth? december 4

age? uhhhh 21? 22? here’s a secret folks, i am horrible at keeping track of how old my characters are.

PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE.

height? maybe a lil shorter than average.

build? slim. not, like, built but there’s some muscle there.

hair colour? brown.

hair style? ever-changing, but shoulder length, usually down and a lil curly. ponytail/braided when she’s working.

eye colour? brown

glasses or contact lenses? started wearing glasses after coming to elias. refuses to say whether this is because she needs to or for fashion (it’s for fashion).

distinguishing facial features? a really nice smile. it has dimples and everything.

skin? has a quality skincare routine. so smooth, so hydrated.

make up? loves it. doesn’t usually wear a lot but sometimes she just feels like Expressing Something or portraying a Vibe and uses make up to do that.

scars? probably some faint ones on her fingers/arms from lab/sparring mishaps.

tattoos? has some little ones - there’s a ‘we are one’ on her left wrist she got back when simba was presumed dead, some flowers on her ankle, and some itty bitty stars/constellations across her collarbones. the stars look like freckles, it’s cute.

type of clothes? all of them. any of them. likes feminine, masculine, whatever. just likes variety and choice in her wardrobe. likes bright colours and street style.

how do they wear their clothes? mix and match. v good at making any outfit work purely because of her confidence.

race/ethnicity? black.

mannerisms? talks with her hands a lot. v expressive.

are they in good health? yeah. she keeps in shape.

PERSONALITY.

what words or phrases do they overuse? “you know”

are they more optimistic or pessimistic? optimistic. definitely.

are they introverted or extroverted? extroverted 100%.

what makes them laugh out loud? anything funny pretty much. she likes laughing. she laughs out loud a lot.

how do they display affection? hugs, holding hands, compliments, the whole nine yards. she likes physical affection. sometimes uses the hand-on-shoulder when she wants to hug someone but thinks they’d be uncomfortable.

how do they want to be seen by others? as herself. maybe as herself but a little softer, like who she’d be if her family weren’t so shakespearean.

how do they see themselves? ngl, it’s a mess in here sometimes. kiara has a complicated relationship with her sense of self because so much of her childhood was aimed towards making her fit the idea of a perfect santucci princess. she’s always been most comfortable and confident with her mind. her family always encouraged that skill because her tech and inventions were incredibly useful (and not that they didn’t care that she enjoyed that but the fact that it was something useful def made them prioritise that in her). and i think her affinity for people is something she has a complicated relationship with, because it was encouraged but in a ‘here is how you read a room and get what you want and make yourself seem strong and untouchable’ which isn’t how kiara likes thinking about people. the fact that sometimes she can fall back on that thinking, like ‘what can i say to get the reaction i want’, is something that makes her uncomfortable with her own thoughts. 

generally, i think she views herself as an innovator at her core? she looks at things and tries to figure out how to make them better and yes, she does that with technology but it’s a philosophy she’s trying to apply to, like, the world at large too. even if she isn’t always sure who she is, as long as she’s following her heart and/or her gut, she’s always confident and whenever she’s being herself rather than a mask she definitely likes herself. i think she just sees herself as someone trying to do good who has the potential to do some bad things with the tools her family has given her. (and that’s not even getting into the complicated relationship with being a princess and not only the responsibilities and connotations but also in terms of gender? like when she tells people she’s not just a princess i think she’s really only just starting to consider whether she’s protesting the implication she’s a girl? or just a girl? this got long sorry i just have Thoughts about kiara’s relationship with her own identity).

how are they seen by others? depends on the person tbh. i think as a generally confident and cheerful person if they don’t know her past. if they do… shit gets weird.

how competitive are they? depends who she’s with. i think she’s most competitive with simba, but is generally pretty chill.

do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? she follows her gut instinct and factors in other information as she goes.

how do they react to praise? she enjoys it. will find something to compliment you back on.

how do they react to criticism? if it’s genuinely constructive? hell yeah! def takes it into consideration. if it feels condescending or rude/insulting? fuck you.

what is their greatest fear? losing people. whether due to death or betrayal or whatever, she’s terrified of losing her loved ones. that’s probably part of why she’s fine staying mad at simba - she’s not the kind of person to keep someone at arms length by being emotionally distant but i do think losing him specifically the way she did hurt so much that the idea of going through that again makes it easier to hold back from truly reconnecting with him. hi welcome to me psychoanalysing my characters in real time.

what are their biggest secrets? i mean, the whole deal with her family she keeps pretty close to her chest.

what is their philosophy of life? be yourself. approach everything with the intent to understand. curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. just because something works doesn’t mean it can’t be better.

what haunts them? watching her uncle throw her cousin/surrogate brother to his death. which. fair enough.

what will they stand up for? anything that aligns with her values tbh. if she feels something needs to be said she’ll stand up and say it. her ‘the outsiders are not inherently evil just because we’ve always clashed with them, they’re just people, come on’ rant was especially unpopular back home.

are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? a little more outdoorsy - likes being able to explore her environment.

if they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? usually the answer is nothing. sometimes the answer is her childhood. on rare occasions it’s caring so much about some things (though she almost instantly regrets the thought).

what are their pet peeves? people who don’t see her for her - who hold onto a preconceived notion. especially when she’s just trying to be nice and the person acts like she’s trying to be manipulative?? like?? some people are just nice, okay, god.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY

is their family big or small? who does it consist of? big. there’s herself, her parents, her little brother kion, her cousin simba, her aunt sarabi, her uncle mufasa (deceased), her uncle taka/scar (unfortunately not deceased), and also like, nala’s whole family. she might even consider kovu family too?

what is their perception of family? it’s complicated y’all. emotionally she’s fully disowned scar from her mental ‘family’. him aside, she definitely loves them and is loyal to them, but she also had a hard time fitting in because there was so much that came with being a santucci that she didn’t want. she’s protective of kion because of fucking scar and she wants him to not have to worry about being anything other than himself. relationship with parents is close but shaky at times. simba is less a cousin, more an older brother because the family is that close knit. nala was probably her first example of being able to choose your family tbh which is neat. and generally speaking, she’s definitely of the opinion you can choose your family, so she considers close friends family.

do they have siblings? older or younger? she has a baby brother, kion. nala and simba are also honorary older siblings.

ideal best friend? compassionate, honest, interesting conversationalist, open to both spontaneous adventures and curling up in pyjamas with a tub of ice cream. idk, just someone who is similar enough to kiara to understand her but still different enough to offer a new perspective.

sho are their natural allies? santucci family ig, plus the omitas.

who are their surprising allies? the leu kids. if they are allies? she hopes they are.

PAST AND FUTURE.

what was your character like as a baby? as a child? adventurous! energetic! curious! definitely one of those kids that asked why a lot. didn’t follow rules as much as anyone wanted her to but managed to get herself out of trouble so it’s fine, c’mon dad, it’s not like simba hasn’t done way worse.

did they grow up rich or poor? rich.

did they grow up nurtured or neglected? more nurtured. not always the way she wanted/needed, but she definitely wasn’t neglected.

what is their greatest achievement? honestly the tech that helps fuel her family’s empire is def up there. also getting vitani to trust her enough to come to her in a time of need was a big one.

what is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? said some harsh stuff. i don’t think she’s done anything too terrible, even if “you will never be mufasa” is a hell of a thing to say.

what are their ambitions? to unite the outsiders and santuccis and overthrow scar. easy peasy.

what advice would they give their younger self? “trust yourself, don’t let anyone but you decide who you should be.”

what smells remind them of their childhood? fresh water from the waterfall. the sterile smell of her lab. blood. whatever shampoo nala uses bc there’s nothing like a nala hug to make her feel like a kid but, like, in a good way.

what was their childhood ambition? it changed a lot. she wanted to be a ballerina, then she wanted to be an inventor and like. she did that.

when was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? probably the last time she argued with simba rip.

has anyone ever saved their life? kovu saved her from a ‘freak accident’.

LOVE.

do they believe in love at first sight? not really, but she believes in something at first sight. like an interest at first sight. potential at first sight.

are they in a relationship? nope.

how do they behave in a relationship? v affectionate, v fun, v committed. will give you her whole heart.

has your character ever been in love? maybe? she thinks she could’ve been in love with kovu but it turned out he was using her but also maybe he wasn’t just using her? she doesn’t know okay!

have they ever had their heart broken? yeah. not even just romantically but, like, in general. tbh the only reason she doesn’t have trust issues is through sheer force of will.

CONFLICT.

are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? tongue. will use fists is she has to but is a better talker than fighter.

what is your character’s kryptonite? her loved ones.

how do they perceive strangers? new people she has yet to meet.

what are their phobias? not really a phobia but she can get nervous on a high ledge. like if she stands in the middle of the roof she’s fine but if she goes to look over the edge she gets hella anxious. yes this is because she saw simba be thrown over the edge of a waterfall to his death thank you for asking.

what is their choice of weapon? her own tech. and common sense.

what living person do they most despise? it’s a tie between scar and zira.

where do they go when they’re angry? sometimes her lab to lose herself in work. sometimes going to confront the source of her anger. sometimes just finding somewhere outside she can sit and brood. sometimes a run/wherever she can do something physical.

who are their enemies and why? scar and zira because they suck and tore her whole life apart and also are hurting/have hurt people she cares about.

WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES.

what is their current job? idk, student? in my heart she works part-time at an observatory/planetarium (i’m at the observatory. i’m at the planetarium. i’m at the combination observatory-planetarium) that i am deciding exists. i’m an admin i can decide that.

what do they think about their current job? it slaps.

what are some of their past jobs? she was like the head of tech for her family? does that count?

what are their hobbies? she likes reading through research articles from scientific journals with fun coloured highlighters. jogging/hitting the gym. sometimes she bakes. she also volunteers whenever she can. also she’s def been to a few protests, does that count??

intelligence level? genius-level intellect. 

do they have a natural talent for something? technological design, and relevant scientific fields.

what is their socioeconomic status? she’s doing okay. she probably has an elaborate series of offshore accounts set up for if she needs emergency cash tbh.

FAVORITES.

what is their favorite animal? lion.

what place would they most like to visit? anywhere. everywhere. she’d love to see the world.

what is their favorite song? rainbow by kesha.

music, art, reading preferred? music.

what is their favorite color? orange.

POSSESSIONS

what is in their fridge? leftovers, some old takeout, always at least one tub of ice cream in freezer. overall a mix of healthy and comfort foods.

what is on their bedside table? funky lamp, phone, family photo, water bottle.

what is in their purse or wallet? she has a dozen rewards cards she always forgets about. her purse always has one half empty tube of lip balm and a usb. also two different pairs of headphones for some reason? also some loose change she never gets around to putting in her wallet.

what is their most treasured possession? she has a photo album that her dad started when he was like sixteen and started doing photography as a hobby. there’s some older photos he went back and added later of when he and her uncles were younger but it’s lots of photos of her family being happy or just being over the years. there are lots of pictures of her mother (and only half where her mother knew he was taking a picture) and in every one she looks beautiful. sometimes when she’s feeling lonely she looks through it and it always makes her feel better, if a little bittersweet.

SPIRITUALITY.

who or what is your character’s guardian angel? she likes to think that when her uncle mufasa isn’t dealing with simba’s tomfoolery he checks in on her.

do they believe in the afterlife? yeah. not necessarily heaven or hell but something.

how would they like to die? happily, a long time from now.

what is their zodiac sign? sagitarius sun. aquarius moon. gemini rising? (for now at least. astrology people tell me if that seems right)

VALUES.

what do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? loss of agency/freedom. total isolation. and, you know, murder or whatever.

what is their view of ‘freedom’? the ability to choose who you are. control over your own life/destiny. she values her freedom a lot - actions are always more meaningful if you choose them rather than being forced into them.

what’s their view of lying? sometimes necessary, but she doesn’t like to make a habit of it.

when did they last make a promise? i think in that convo with vitani. congrats vitani!

DAILY LIFE.

what are their eating habits? she eats relatively healthy, but she also has a bit of a sweet tooth. big believer in comfort food.

describe their home. an apartment, not small enough to be cramped but not, like, huge either. mismatched furniture that matches. bright, colourful. relatively modern, though none of that google home shit. a jacket has been unceremoniously dumped in every room. kind of an organised mess. schoolwork/projects she’s working on cover her desk but also part of her kitchen counter. it’s cozy, very lived in.

are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? like, organised clutter. has a bunch of knick knacks on her desk that she liked/reminded her of people.

what do they do first thing on a weekday morning? try to sleep in for five more minutes. give up. make either coffee or a smoothie depending on how healthy she’s feeling.

MISCELLANEOUS.

are they comfortable with technology? extremely.

if they could save one person, who would it be? mufasa.

if they could call one person for help, who would it be? mufasa again. or nala.

what is their perception of redemption? you just gotta keep trying to do good and maybe you’ll fuck up but you shouldn’t just give up. if your heart’s in the right place you can always try again. everyone is capable of change, even if not everyone recognises that they need to.

do they believe in happy endings? yes. they just take effort and people getting their heads out of their asses.

if your character could travel through time, where would they go? like, right before mufasa and simba leave for that conference and basically grab mufasa by the shoulders and explain everything that’ll happen and hope he’ll know how to fix it. and also give him a hug.

if they could have a superpower, what would they choose? she’s always thought shapeshifting would be cool.

[houroftheantichristwolf]

Lesbian Politicization

This was published 1990 in a book called Dykes-Loving-Dykes: Dyke Separatist Politics for Lesbians Only and illustrates exactly the long-standing issue with women appropriating lesbianism, using their political beliefs to try to define female homosexual existence in relation to opposing men. The agenda, of course, is to say fuck males and to fight the ever elusive and ever changing culture of patriarchy. 

That’s 100% relevant and helpful for actual homosexual females....not. 

I’ll make this short though, this is just to show how feminists been appropriating lesbians and applying their values to lesbian existence.

In the 1980’s, a decade of reactionary politics, femininity became an accepted value among many Lesbians. Even many politically radical Lesbians, who I would most expect to support Lesbian self-love and self-respect, who usually call male bullshit for what it is, began to openly admire feminine ways of dressing and acting. Femininity! A patriarchal hype if there ever was one.

Lesbians who didn’t look the way you personally think is more useful for your cause probably didn’t care to make a political statement out of their existence. The point of lesbians seeking lesbian communities is to find other lesbians - with the exception of those who WANTED to seek out political radical lesbian communities. That is not an inherent aspect of our existence, and to be honest, it’s not even a large part of it as women appropriating lesbians usually populated those communities. Here is a recap of the origins of radical “lesbian” separatism: *** [ In the late 70s a group of lesbians in Leeds, known as revolutionary feminists (RFs), made a controversial move that resonated loudly for me and many other women. They began calling for all feminists to embrace lesbianism. Appealing to their heterosexual sisters to get rid of men “from your beds and your heads”, they started a debate, which reached its height in 1981 with the publication of an infamous booklet, Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism (LYE). In this, the RFs wrote that, “all feminists can and should be lesbians. Our definition of a political lesbian is a woman-identified woman who does not fuck men. It does not mean compulsory sexual activity with women. It’s no surprise that the booklet was so controversial. “We think serious feminists have no choice but to abandon heterosexuality,” it reads. “Only in the system of oppression that is male supremacy does the oppressor actually invade and colonise the interior of the body of the oppressed.” https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2009/jan/30/women-gayrights “Political lesbianism originated in the late 1960s among second wave radical feminists as a way to fight sexism and compulsory heterosexuality. Sheila Jeffreys helped to develop the concept when she co-wrote “Love Your Enemy? The Debate Between Heterosexual Feminism and Political Lesbianism”[3] with the Leeds Revolutionary Feminist Group. They argued that women should abandon support of heterosexuality and stop sleeping with men, while encouraging women to rid men “from your beds and your heads.”[4] Heterosexual behavior is seen as the basic unit of the patriarchy’s political structure, lesbians who reject heterosexual behavior therefore disrupt the established political system.[5]Ti-Grace Atkinson, a radical feminist who helped to found the group The Feminists, is attributed with the phrase that embodies the movement: ‘Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice.’[6]” ] ***

Lesbians’ acceptance of anything “feminine” is part of the weakening of Lesbian politics—a Lesbian parallel to the right-wing trend of het politics.

LOL good. Being a lesbian does not mean representing anything political. Also what the fuck? This is where queer activists got their penchant for calling lesbians Nazis lol. Where’s that meme that’s like, anyone I don’t like is a Nazi? lol great homophobia, Queen/dumbass.

Those Lesbians who act out the feminine model and claim it’s a contribution to Lesbian culture, a flowering forth of their “real selves,” are of course Fems

So feminine lesbians’ real selves aren’t acceptable within your framework because they trigger your contempt of gender presentation that you yourself do not have to take part of? But your “real self” - a non-lesbian pretending to be a lesbian - is commendable because you want other lesbians to act and look exactly how you do which supposedly is off-putting to patriarchy AKA you use our sexual orientation to say fuck you to men? I think not. 

The het media is full of stories about the het feminist who “realizes that she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life,” who “regrets having tried to be like a man,” and is now “rediscovering the excitement of feminine seductiveness, the fun of dressing up in high heels, make-up and skirts, and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.”

“Realizes she doesn’t have to give up being a woman to be a success in life”; “and her deep need for the joys of motherhood.” So you understand femininity = heterosexuality. This is the 80s/90s, I wonder what her opinion is now that ‘femininity’ has changed: heterosexual women wear gym clothes, lift weights, have short hair, wear no make up or minimal make up etc., and men love it. And yet I see feminists also say that heterosexual women who are like this are still trying to please men and so are still feminine even though what they’re doing and how they’re looking is not “feminine” according to the original perception. So what’s the truth about ‘femininity?’ It’s equating it to anything that heterosexual men find appealing, which changes constantly. You really want lesbians to spend time to think about how to be as unappealing to males as possible when they’re not even relevant and so don’t dominate our every thought and action (unlike you maybe because you’re not homosexual and so have to try harder?)? Please, get real.

She’s a threat to the Big Lie of “feminine woman,” and so men and their women collaborators make up all kinds of ridiculous, hateful fictions to explain away her existence. The pressure is meant to humiliate and bully her into accepting femininity, and it must put her through soul-shaking self-doubt, even if she knows other Butches. 

While I do know this happens, the reason behind that is homophobia 100%, being “masculine” appearing is a red marker of homosexuality. The threat is the big lie of heterosexuality. “Feminine” lesbians were assaulted when with their partners or if found out that they are indeed homosexual, they were just less of an obvious target than “masculine” women. It’s not Oppression Olympics, this should be used to understand hate crimes against homosexual women.

Meanwhile, girls who accept femininity—the vast majority, unfortunately—are accepted as “real girls” and encouraged to take pride in their feminine ways. There are degrees of femininity, of course. Some Fem girls accept the complete emaciated drag queen sex-object ideal while others take on just enough feminine identity to still be accepted as real girls.

“Real girls.” I was definitely acknowledged as a “real girl” when I was still  more “unfeminine” in my appearance and not out than I am right now being out. What degree of ‘femininity’ am I considered to exhibit now according to feminist praxis, who knows. Either way, my relatives disagree that any amount of femininity would make me a ‘normal’ female. My mother was sad toward the end of her life because she felt conflicted that I wasn’t a ‘real’ female. You know what would’ve changed her perception? Being with a man and having kids.

It means spending time, energy and money on nail polish, perfume, hair-do’s, dresses, diets, body-shaping exercises, poses and games; fantasizing  yourself as the center of sexual attention, making everything into a sexual game, getting yourself further and further away from female reality, from real female Lesbian power. It means identifying more and more with het values and choosing to see yourself through men’s eyes.

I thought femininity was clothes, makeup and seeking to attract men. Then it’s wanting a family and diet and exercise, which aren’t exclusive to heterosexual men and women. But because heterosexual males find that appealing in their lives it’s considered feminine? So, again, “femininity” is anything heterosexual males find appealing in females. Got it. And that answers my question about what her thoughts probably are on contemporary “femininity.” 

Most importantly, choosing to be an obvious Lesbian is about living with integrity. A Butch’s choice to resist femininity is the choice of a female who’s being true to herself, choosing to be as alive to her female self as possible, regardless of the punishments inflicted on her as a result. I find in that resistance a key to Dyke power, Dyke beauty and Dyke love.

A lesbian being an actual lesbian - not pretending to be one or basing her existence on her capability to spite heterosexual males and females - and living her damn life is living in integrity period.  Associating a lesbian’s life with political intent and political values has no integrity, is manipulative and is suspect as hell.

[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

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

I wanna hearing about Paige's family with #5.

Super detailed questions about your OCs

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

HOO BOI my friend, you have volunteered for an infodump. I’m putting in a read-more cut to prevent dash clogging.

Paige was the second-to-last child out of five, with three brothers and one sister. 

Isabelle [Bella, Belle] -- the eldest, Paige’s sister and seven years older than her. Basically ended up as built-in babysitter/second mom. Paige calls her Izzy and is the only one who is allowed to call her that [anyone else will get whacked, including Bella’s husband]. Their relationship when Paige was a kiddo was pretty strained; Paige grew up running wild with her brothers whilst Isabelle, the eldest daughter of a very conservative and publicly religious family, was constantly being watched and judged on how responsible she was and how well she was growing into a ‘lady’ as she was expected to do. Meanwhile Paige, as the younger daughter and surrounded by boys, was excused for more wild behavior and often given a flavor of the ‘boys will be boys’ pass when she got into trouble until she hit puberty and suddenly got whacked in the face with more feminine expectations. 

Somewhere in Paige’s early teens, she and Izzy had it out in an honest to goodness, full-on fight, wherein Izzy accused Paige of being a spoiled brat who was incapable of understanding just how hard it was to hold up under everyone’s expectations, and Paige threw it right back by calling those expectations petty bullshit and questioning why Izzy didn’t just toss it all out if she hated being a lady. The two grew apart after that, maintaining some sisterly affection but mostly not getting in each other’s way. Izzy taught Paige how to look after her hair when she started growing it out, taught her how to do make-up, gave her advice on clothes and shoes for interviews, that sort of thing. 

They both ultimately stayed at arm’s length until Shaun was born, at which point Izzy had reached out to try and reconnect. She and her husband had been living in Pennsylvania when the bombs fell. Izzy’s family was well off enough that they might have gotten a spot in a vault, but Paige hadn’t been keeping up with them enough to know whether or not they’d registered...

Ethan -- eldest brother, five years older than Paige, she always looked up to him as her cool older brother. He and his friends had a garage band when he was a teen, but he gave it up when their parents put pressure on him to start figuring out something ‘real’ to do with his life. Music became a beloved hobby, noodling about on his guitar when he could get away with it, but never when their father was home, as he’d threatened to smash it on more than one occasion. 

Like Isabelle, Ethan was often leaned upon to be more adult than he actually was, looking after his younger siblings but with a touch more wiggle room. Where Isabelle was very much considered the one with full parental authority, and thus expected to enforce the rules to their fullest extent, Ethan allowed Paige, Daniel, and Zach to get away with the occasional mischief with a wink and a smile that assured them he didn’t see anything. 

Besides music, Ethan also had a gift of gab that made him excellent at talking himself and his siblings out of any trouble-- something he and Paige shared, and the two would get into deep arguments over tiny things as a kind of sport. At school a teacher encouraged him towards debate club and theater, and he participated in multiple school productions before, again, their parents reminded him that artistic careers were more fantasy than anything to build your life around. Instead, they pushed him towards law, which he fucking hated but attempted to make them happy.

He dropped out after his first year of college, arriving at home with black dyed hair, two tattoos and three piercings he hadn’t had when he left for school, giving their parents the finger, and all but disappearing when Paige was fourteen. Nineteen years old, he was technically an adult, his their parents couldn’t drag him back. Dad doesn’t talk about Ethan, and mom would cry when he was mentioned. Paige worried he died chasing a dream for the longest time, until she left for law school and started getting postcards-- turned out Ethan was still in contact with Izzy, and had embraced his musical career [and all the hardship that came with it] with everything he had. 

Last Paige heard, Ethan had been somewhere on the western seaboard when the bombs fell. She finds it unlikely that he, or any descendants of him, survived... though, if he went ghoul, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was still living the traveling musician life two centuries later. 

Daniel [Danny] -- middle brother, two years older than Paige, and oldest of the trouble trio. Daniel, Paige, and Zach were always the three making messes together as young kids, running wild, exploring the backwoods on the family farm, finding fun and odd ways to get chores done, and generally being kids. Danny was the tough one out of the three of them; easily the biggest out of all of Paige’s siblings and the one who got in people’s faces if anyone was messing with anyone else in the family. 

Danny and Paige frequently butted heads; they were both stubborn as hell and outspoken, and before Paige was expected to be more lady-like it very regularly came to blows. It’s thanks to Danny that Paige knew how to squirm out of most holds by the time she was an adult, even if the other person was larger than her, and exactly which soft spots to shove her elbows or heels into. This tendency towards brawling changed as they got older, however, as Danny realized that Paige was going to be a petite woman her entire life and went out of his way to teach her some honest-to-goodness self-defense tactics after hearing a few of his friends say a few... off color things about his sister. 

Danny stayed in Minnesota to attend a trade school, finding work in the automation industry; installing and maintaining machines used for mass manufacture. He married almost immediately out of highschool, and the timing of his first kid suggests that his wife was pregnant before the wedding. Paige kept in contact with him, and Danny actually made the trip out to visit her when Shaun was born. While Paige suspects that he’s dead, unless of course he ended up ghoul, she has occasionally speculated that if Danny and his family survived the initial bombing? He had practical skills that might have seen him through long enough to have descendants that survived to the present day.  Zachariah [Zach] -- the youngest, a year younger than Paige and her childhood partner in crime. Zach, like Paige, was kinda on the small side. Unlike Paige, Zach was also intensely shy in a family full of outspoken, opinionated, stubborn mules. It wasn’t that he didn’t have opinions, mind-- rather that he had a lot of trouble putting the words together to express them. Zach would often stick with Paige like her second shadow, because Paige was very good at picking up on what he meant to say to others and saying it for him, or re-iterating when he spoke too quietly and he got ignored. 

That said, Zach was often the mastermind behind what he, Paige, and Danny got up to as little kids-- quiet, but quick witted, and a grade-A prankster. 

As adolescents, Zach and Paige were occasionally confused for being twins despite there being a year difference between them. Their faces were strikingly similar, with Zach having deeply brown eyes rather than Paige’s hazel being the main difference. Sometimes their mischief would play into this, and Paige was allowed to get away with many things as a young teen simply by virtue of being mistaken for her brother. 

When Ethan ran out on the family, Zach was probably the one most deeply effected by it, and Paige did everything she could to support him at the time. They both looked up to Ethan, but Zach even more so because he was also musically inclined and had been learning the drums from one of Ethan’s friends. Sometimes the band even let him do some kind of back-up percussion when they were practicing before their father shut it down, and it was during those practice sessions that Zach tended to really light up. When Ethan left? Zach fell deeply into depression for a long time, and Paige felt like it was her responsibility to hold him up lest she lose another brother. 

Despite being the often-overlooked child in the family, Zach had damn near perfect grades... and yet, their parents appeared to lack specific expectation for him. Rather, the had a vague assurance that he’d simply do well at whatever he decided to do, and Zach confided in Paige that he had no idea what to do with his scholastic success-- that it didn’t feel real to him. That he wasn’t a person, but rather a mass of goo that could just be poured into whatever shape worked best for the people around him. 

Paige still regrets not having any good advice for him. Last she heard, he’d gone to school to pursue an engineering degree, like their father; imitating a ready example. She suspects that he might have gone after something musical, if not for what happened with Ethan, and that his choice paralysis was a form of avoiding even thinking about that kind of rebellion. Like Danny, Zach’s schooling didn’t take him far from the family home, and he still lived in Minnesota at the time of the bombing. He was, at the time, unmarried. Given time to think further on it, Paige actually suspects that Zach might have been some form of closeted due to still being close to the family and their parents intense involvement with the church. Thinking about that always makes her wish she’d been there for him more, that she’d been smarter and figured out what he’d been dealing with and helped him handle it better. 

Like everyone else, Paige is pretty sure Zach is dead... and he’s probably the one she’s mourns the most, because it feels like he never really got to live in the first place. 

[athanasia-ia]

Friend of the Devil - self para 2/?

tw: general content warning

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. No, you’re a mistake. You were always a mistake. A damned child. Her father’s words filled with resentment played on and on in her head for a good moment. If she were to believe what he’d told her, then she would never amount to anything. Irrelevant, replaceable, a waste of money, a financial burden - how many more phrases did he coin, it seemed, just for her?

Moon Yoojin hated her father. And she blamed him for all of it: for her suffering, for her addiction, for her poor choices in life. She did not care for her mother either. The two combined had made Hell out of her life, and tonight, in turn, she would send them to Hell; or so the story went. Yoojin did not believe in any God, she had never followed any religion. She had never acknowledged the potential existence of anything non-human. In fact, growing up, she secretly made fun of anyone who thought there was a higher power, sitting up there in the clouds, watching over their children down on Earth. How could there be? If there was someone up there, then why would they allow a child of theirs to suffer as much as Yoojin did?

Thus thought young Yoojin. So, why was twenty-four year old Yoojin standing at the crossroads, with shaky hands, holding a box, in expectation of...A prayer? A summoning? A chant? She was not sure what she was supposed to call it, really, but despite everything she had ever believed, she was now holding on to what little hope she had for retribution. For, if there was God, and Heaven, and demons and Hell, then Yoojin was the perfect candidate to ask for some justice - even if justice came from down below, and even if it meant a bloody revenge instead.

She felt hot. It was the middle of October, an unusually cold autumn too - but she felt hot. Wrapped in layers of clothes, she was shaking still, feeling as if someone had implanted a thousand, miniature ice cubes underneath her skin, causing her to tremble as she laid the box down in the hole she had dug at the forest crossroads. She had driven far away from the city, high on some new drug Senth had been able to get her. She had driven herself to the middle of a forest and found a perfect spot, despite the severity of drowsiness that was beginning to take over. Was it the drug that made her feel as if she was running a fever? Or something else? Whatever it was, it would not give her any peace and as she slowly read the chant she had clumsily scribbled on a piece of paper, her mind went back to that day, in high school, when she’d gone to the Circus in Seoul all by herself, and the leaflet she had found on the ground.

Back then, the leaflet was a mystery, a strange piece of paper with alleged words written on it in some alien language. A year later, the leaflet was forgotten in the bottom drawer of her desk. Another year later, it was all crumpled and worn out by time, carried around in her bag as Yoojin, homeless and seeking shelter, wandered the lonesome streets of Seoul in search for food, for drinks, for drugs, for love. Another two years had passed and the leaflet had been so worn out that one could barely discern anything on it, but soon enough, Yoojin stumbled upon an old story book, and within that story book she found a few symbols which were the same as the ones on her aged leaflet - and when she’s finally put two and two together, Yoojin realized that the leaflet was not an unavailing piece of paper, but rather a weapon she could use against all those who’d harmed her.

She did not tell Senth a word about her journey tonight. He was home, wherever it was that these days he - or the two of them - called home. She hoped that now - it was about to hit 3 am - he was asleep, underneath layers of blankets, dreaming of a better life. For both of them. She hoped that he would not wake and look for her, because she knew tonight, she would not answer his calls. Tonight had to be done. And when the chant was done, Yoojin knew it was too late. A rustle in the treetops, a gust of wind, a drop of temperature - she had felt it all and knew, somewhere deep down, that it was all true.

Yet, she did not genuinely believe until she heard footsteps, and when she turned to look behind her, she found a person standing some dozen feet away from her. It would not hit Yoojin until much later (the next day, really) that she had no idea what this other person, or thing, truly looked like, but at the moment when it was happening, she was certain that it was a woman - or at least something that had a feminine figure. It, or she, was taller than Yoojin, just as slender too - though that was as much information as her eyes and brain could truly process and make sense of. It appeared that the creature had small ears, and ram-like horns growing out of the tops of the ears and the sides of the head, spiralling to the back. It also appeared it had a small face, almond-shaped burning orange eyes, and a skin tone of an unusual shade of grey.

What was it? Who was it?

“We don’t have all night.”

The creature’s voice took Yoojin aback. It was not a voice she had ever heard before, and yet it reminded her of something. And when the creature came closer and Yoojin could see its face better, she struggled with making any sense of it. She felt uncomfortable from looking at it. In fact, the longer she stared the more nauseous she felt, but she was unsure what it was that made her react that way. For all she knew, she could have been looking at something extraordinarily beautiful. Later, in the relative comfort of Senth’s and her room, Yoojin would realize that the creature had only an imitation of a human face - it was all there, two eyes, a nose, chin, prominent cheekbones, eyebrows and plush lips, but none of it fit right. If one were to describe it best, it was as if someone who was great at drawing but had never seen a human face in their life was told to draw a female face. They were given the basics, but no soul, no essence.

“What do you want?” the creature asked.

“I.” Yoojin tried, but she could not speak. She was not afraid. Strangely enough, a skeptic all of her life, she was not given proof of something beyond, and she was unafraid. She was oddly unperturbed, and yet she could not speak.

“Your parents?” the creature spoke. It lifted a hand and ran its talons through its thin, dark hair. “Yoojin, have you made up your mind? Are you ready to play a game with me?”

“A game?” Yoojin managed to ask. How does it know my name?

“I know everyone’s name,” the creature replied. Then, its mouth stretched, both corners lifting in a toothy grin. Only, it had no teeth. There was nothing in there, except for unadulterated darkness, the kind of darkness that invited one to get closer, so that it could devour one whole. “So, how about it? Shall we play a game of cards, Moon Yoojin?”

“I…” Yoojin’s heart skipped. “Y….Yes.”

The darkness which once resided only within the creature now began to spread. Oozing out of every orifice on the creature, it consumed the world around them, sucking out whatever was Earthly or human out of their surroundings, imprisoning Yoojin in another plane that could only be described as a wasteland. The sky had gone black and vermilion. The outlines of the sky were burning red, and lighting up with strange veins of throbbing light. The air had become saturated, with humidity, and sweat, and dust and something musky, like the earth after a spring shower.

“Take a seat,” the creature said. “My name is Athanasia. If you can win this game, Moon Yoojin, I will make anything come true.”

[lilrexsoka]

Helllooo again. You may have noticed that I made a mistake. I accidentally switched the prompts. I thought ‘Brothers’ was the third prompt. I posted this one first... and realized there was no reason why I couldn’t just stick with the order anyway. Hope that doesn’t bother anyone. 

Tagging: @officialrexsoka

Read it on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698138/chapters/65214574

Or read it below! 

Rating- G (Some topics may be more suited for a T rating, though it’s still TCW soo...)

Tag Warnings- Mentions of slavery.

Missions that the council gave Ahsoka and her Masters directly were often incredibly important. Missions that Anakin was put in charge of, no matter the degree of difficulty or danger, were almost always completed. Whether or not he used a traditional method or something irrational was always an ongoing game. Despite his sometimes seemingly insane or ridiculous plans, it was commonly known that he rarely failed. Maybe it was because his Master levelled him out, or because his Padawan and his battalion were willing to follow his roughly-fashioned action plans, whatever they were.

Like now. Ahsoka was going to use his idea of disguises to find out where the Kiros Togruta were being imprisoned and enslaved. She even thought it was going to be a good one, if it succeeded. What didn’t reach her mind was what costume she would have to wear following that decision.

“Well, obviously you are too young and… feminine to be a slaver,” Anakin had answered upon her questioning of what clothing he had for her to wear, half-hesitantly as if he almost disagreed with the idea as well. Obi-Wan had agreed. So had Ahsoka. No going back now. “So I brought along some other options. I have a couple of slave outfits that might just fit ya.”

She wasn’t going to ask why he had half a dozen clothing options fit for a slave girl, but she did protest. Obi-Wan simply backed his Padawan up and offered his condolences. Go figure.

Now she was standing in something that showed more skin then fabric before the dusty mirror in the back of the Zygerrian transport hijacked from a past mission. It was a light blue, silky outfit that probably cost an arm and a leg with the accessories combined; it draped loosely around the swell of her hips with a slit down the entire left side that felt entirely unnecessary. Her chest was covered with more of the fabric, still uncomfortably loose, and more of it covered her lanky arms. The most notable parts of the outfit were the shining gold adornments dripping with jewels; sashes that lay in a ‘Y’ shape over the swell of her breasts and across her lower abdomen, and a ridiculously heavy headpiece that sat on her montrals and dangled jewels over the markings on her forehead.

She hated every second that she stood in that outfit, but she didn’t have much of a choice. This was the plan, and it needed to work if she were to save the Togruta. Her people.

There was a sudden, quiet knock on the door behind her. It was closed, and it wasn’t even loud, but it still interrupted her brooding. Not in the mood for your sympathies, Ahsoka thought and let out a soft growl. “What do you want?”

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something. I just wanted to check on everything. You’ve been back here for a while.” Damn. She hadn’t even considered how this plan would go with Rex dragged along. It was Obi-Wan who insisted this was a four-person job, and the go-to was Anakin’s right-hand man. Ahsoka hadn’t been upset; she loved fighting with Rex, but this was something far more personal and intimate. Rex wasn’t family like her Masters. How was she going to deal with the embarrassment of letting the Captain see her in such a get-up?

“I’m fine,” she called back, suddenly wondering if she could change Anakin’s mind and play a slaver after all. No, I’m just being ridiculous. She couldn’t be queasy around the clone; he was no different than Anakin or Obi-Wan. With the amount of time they spent together, he should be family as well. “Just… getting into my disguise.”

Rex’s answer was loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. “Ah. Alright. Just wonderin’ why you were taking long. The Generals were getting a bit worried. Kenobi had that crease in his forehead and Skywalker couldn’t stop moving or talking.”

She could easily picture her Masters in her head at Rex’s description. He was trying to joke again; it was as if he always knew when her spirits were down. “I’ll come out soon,” the Togruta called again, fidgeting with the soft fabric of her outfit. When I gather some courage.

“Is… something wrong?” The clone sounded hesitant. Again, he somehow knew that something was upsetting her, like he was the one with Force-Sensitivity.

Ahsoka blew out a slow breath and smoothed the fabric draped over her waist. How in the galaxy was she going to answer this truthfully? “Um… I’m having a bit of a problem with my outfit.”

“Oh.” Another long pause. Ahsoka was sure he was imaging all sorts of embarrassing things that could be happening to the young Padawan. “Maybe… I could help?” His tone was clearly sheepish now. He was hoping his offer wouldn’t lead to an unwanted situation. She wasn’t sure that the situation was avoidable now.

“No.” That was way too fast. “I mean-” Ahsoka just sighed. She had no idea how to explain it.

There was a shuffling noise. “Sorry. If you’re not decent, I can come back later, or…” Poor man. He only cared and wanted to help.

That wasn’t what she wanted, she realized. At one point, she would have to face him. It was better now than later. Plus, it shouldn’t be such a problem. Ahsoka was dressing up for a mission, not for fun. Her embarrassment with idiotic. Besides, it was the boy’s problems, not hers. “No, you don’t have to. I’m dressed, but…” She heaved another sigh. “You know what, just come in. You’ll see.”

“Alright… If you say so.” He chuckled nervously. “To be honest though, Commander, I’m a little worried about what I’m going to see. You’re making it sound a bit ominous.”

Ahsoka worried her lip and sympathetically sent the clone a soothing wave of Force Energy. He’d told her he hadn’t liked the idea of her altering his emotions, but sometimes she subconsciously did so when she knew he was unsettled. “I promise it’s not as bad as I’m making it.” I’m probably just making this a bigger deal then I should. “Besides, you’re a big boy,” she added teasingly. “You can handle it.” She knew it was true, but something about the idea of Rex seeing her in her vulnerable outfit was… strangely mouth-drying.

Stop making this weird! It’s just a slave outfit! Nothing bad is going to happen! the Togruta told herself as she turned to meet the clone as he palmed open the door. His eyes met her, uncovered, wide and still impossibly brown and soulful. He wasn’t wearing his armour, but instead a full set of golden brown slaver armour. Somehow, he suited the stolen plates well.

It wasn’t his disguise that she wanted to watch, (though it was a pleasant view, the depths of her mind argued,) but his reaction. Expectedly, his eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth several times before he spoke. “I… you look good, Commander. What’s the problem?”

Planting her hands on her hips, the Padawan asked condescendingly, “Good, Captain?” She wasn’t upset, however she knew she had to reprimand him. She was the opposite of upset. His approval had already eased her embarrassment. “Please don’t worry about it,” Ahsoka told him immediately, a little wretchedly with a burning face. “And sorry for all of the drama. I just… was unsure about the disguise.” She gestured pointedly to the loose silk fabric draped over her curves. She shouldn’t be upset over showing a little skin; her very first meeting with the clone had been during the first year of her apprenticeship with the small bit of clothing that had been her top.

Rex made an understanding noise and ran his hand over his face. “I get it now. But your disguise looks really good. You’ll fool all the Zygerrians.” He added the last comment with a playful smirk. It was how he lightened the mood again.

“You’re too pretty to be a slaver,” the Padawan shot back, arching the markings above her eyes with a smile that might have just been described as flirty. “I’ve yet to see your acting skills, though. You might just act like one.”

“I’ll consider it a compliment. Thanks, Commander.” Rex knew she disliked it when he used her rank when they were alone. Either he still had yet to break that habit… or he knew what he was doing. But all past emotion left his voice when he asked, “But really. Why are you so uncomfortable in this new disguise?” Now he just sounded concerned, still possibly a little hesitant.

The Togruta sighed, instinctively wrapping her arms across her chest. She’d been acutely aware that she’d been wearing it the entire time Rex had been… teasing her, but she hadn’t minded until he had spoken about it directly. “Uhm… honestly, I didn’t really have a good reason. I was being childish. I just didn’t like the idea of wearing this skimpy disguise in front of others. Like… you, and Obi-Wan and Anakin.”

The clone tilted his head curiously. “Oh.” His hand went to the back of his neck. “Well… you don’t have to feel uncomfortable around me. I mean… we’re close. Like family. Right?”

Ahsoka sighed helplessly. All she could do was shake her head, though she knew she should feel excited. Rex had just admitted he considered her as family, and she felt disappointed. She couldn’t want that kind of relationship with him… so what was her problem? “Yeah, I guess,” she answered with as much happiness as she could muster, though her smile was half-hearted and entirely pathetic.

Of course, Rex noticed this. “I’m sorry, Commander,” he spluttered immediately, eye stretching wide with realization. “You didn’t like that. It’s just that… you’re close. Closer to me then I would have expected. Like another vod, almost.” He shrugged embarrassedly.

“Vod?” She knew the clones sometimes used vocabulary picked up from their Mandalorian trainers, and though she had picked up the meanings of some of them, she clearly had misunderstood a few. ‘Vod’ was commonly used when the troops referred to each other… but maybe that was purposeful. Maybe Rex really did consider her as valuable to him as his fellow clones.

“Yeah,” Rex answered. “It’s Mando’a for ‘sibling’, whether in blood or in arms.” The expression that crossed his face next was caring and terribly happy. “I know many of the men care for you like a sister.”

Ahsoka couldn’t stop the frown that creased her face, or the frustration that bubbled up under her skin. “But I’m not just another clone,” she protested faintly. “You don’t treat me like one. How can I be family?” Her hands lay under her armpits, as she chewed her lip. If that’s all he sees me as…

The clone shook his head and sighed quietly. “You’re not a clone,” he agreed patiently. “And that’s why I don’t treat you like one. You’re so different from any brother I’ve known; but at the same time, you are my Commander. I shouldn’t be treating you like… a friend.” He chuckled. “But it’s not worth pretending I care anymore. Not with someone like you.” There was a moment of pause, his hands shifting nervously. “If you would prefer to… forget everything, then I could do that too. I know we’re not family, I just thought-”

“No, Rex,” Ahsoka interrupted guiltily. I have a bad habit of explaining myself horribly. “It’s not that at all. It’s my fault for not being more clear.” She paced forward, trying furiously not to trip on her new lengths of silk, and came before the clone. He still loomed over her; it would take time for her to grow into a full Togruta. Looking up into his face, all she saw was careful curiosity, but yet his eyes flickered incessantly with desperation. “I appreciate that you count me as family. In fact, I’m happy that you do. But… I don’t think we can pretend that we are brothers in arms, or even just friends.”

“What?” His eyes widened, and his hands landed on the side of her arm, seemingly with instinct.

She hated having to tell him this… but there was still a future she had to think of. It had been way too long spent with thoughts left unspoken and feelings left buried. “We are something more, Rex. Maybe we can’t label it yet. Maybe it has no name. But we can’t stick with something now, because in the future it will only bring more confusion.” Ahsoka tried a soothing smile. “Only the Force knows what will happen. But for thinking of the future… maybe we should stay flexible. Whatever happens.” She found the hand that had settled on her arm and covered it with her palm. “Okay?”

And maybe she should have kept her mouth shut, but it was probably important that Rex told her seriously, “I… think that’s best.” He left details out, but from his tone- and the turmoil in his Force signature- there were plenty of his own confusing emotions.

Ahsoka thought that she had made herself look like a fool; it happened when she tried to explain her feelings, so her relief at his understanding completely made her lose all care over the slave outfit. She felt that everything would work out with Rex as her companion, but only the Force knew if he would ever become anything more than that.

“Well,” Rex sighed, letting his hand slide down her arm and back to his side. “Do you feel better about the… disguise? I can practically hear the Generals and their worry.” He chuckled good-naturedly and sidestepped with a gesture to the door. “Shall we?”

“Now that’s not how a slaver acts,” the Padawan joked, but still followed his offer and let him trail after her. It was only then she had realized she had left her lightsabers behind, which she quickly excused herself to retrieve. Passing the mirror on the way out, she decided that maybe the slave outfit wasn’t so bad. Rex had approved, after all. She did look good in blue.