#these three need a support group for children of parents who murder people

[trashpidgeon48]

I love a good unstable toxic murder family, one of my favorite dynamics. That couple is unstable and that child will not save their marriage, it will, in fact, make it ten times worse.

[foster-the-world]

Aw, man

Last night the district wide school board meeting turned into a debate about Israel. With some claiming the DOE is not doing "enough." Apparently enough means they haven't yet written a email condemning the kidnappings in Israel? With claims they would have already sent a letter if it was black people. I guess the district is waiting on a legal team to approve language. So it should go out today or tmrw. Not good enough for these people. I don't get it. The DOE did send a letter condemning racism and it doesn't do shit to protect my kids. We are still in the most segregated school system in the nation. I am 100% confident the man claiming they "would have already done it if it was black people." made sure his children were in the majority white schools. The anti-racism letter didn't change his desire to segregate his children so why would a anti-semitism letter help jewish students? Writing a letter condemning the kidnappings in Israel is not going to protect my kids one bit nor help the children who were kidnapped. Our district has migrant children pouring in every single week. Let's talk about how we can support them. Letter or no letter I do not care.

I left that meeting to go to our schools PTA meeting. We did spend a good amount of time talking about how we can help the new migrant children who started at our school last week. Apparently 1000 more children entered the district on Friday - set to start next week. My 2nd graders class got three more students last week. Rebel's 1st grade class got two more students. We've been working on our Spanish at home and making sure the girls include them. I'm so glad we are at a school where we teach the kids to welcome their new friends. I have no doubt the uniform, clothing, coat drive will be fully funded - even though we have a school full of low income parents who aren't exactly rolling in the dough.

This morning I'm talking to the Principal about the clothing/Halloween costume drive when she gets a text message and looks horrified. Apparently a lower grade kid told their teacher they can't be around them because they are Jewish and their Mom told them Jewish people are dangerous. So fucked up. Poor baby being taught that hate and poor teacher having to hear it from a student she pours her hard work into.

I'm not really worried about my girls hearing shitty things. As mentioned they are tough and can handle themselves. The toughness does mean they can be jerks but also means they wouldn't hesitate to fight back if someone says shit like that to them. People have said other shitty things to them and they returned with the 6yo version of "go fuck yourself" and were indignant more then hurt. *Obviously they didn't use the f word. They have a solid group of friends in their class who would know to defend them. Although we are going to have a talk about what to say if someone talks negatively about Juduism or if they hear someone say anything racist/prejudice/etc to themselves or any of their friends. We've had the general talk before but probably need to be more specific on the Jewish side of things. Every year my husband and I bring Hanukkah celebration stuff to their class. Everyone is always very receptive. Last year Bee's teacher was Jewish. They've generally had at least one jewish family in their class - although that dwindles in the older grades. We live two doors down from the JCC - so they go to classes there so do get to spend time around Jewish children regardless. This semester they are taking an art class there and we go to the shabbat dinners sometime.

Bee has a Ukrainian girl in her class - well her grandparents are from Ukraine. So Bee came home last year talking about how people are murdering babies "as soon as they come out" in the Ukrainian war. Now this year her little friend is from Israel - so she comes home with more horror stories he hears from home and interprets into six year old language. The world we are giving our children is not okay.

[italeteller]

Oh goody, genocide semantics. That's always fun

I'm curious biglawbear, how many people have to die before you'll acknowledge it's a genocide? A million? Thus far it's been over 22000 killed, how many more zeroes do you need to call it the genocide that it is?

But you know what, maybe you're a dictionary kinda person. So let's look at what the dictionary defines as genocide:

"The systematic and widespread extermination or attempted extermination of a national, racial, religious, or ethnic group."

Would bombing a designated (BY ISRAEL) humanitarean area fit that description?

Would the destruction of all universities in Gaza fit that description?

Would the destruction of the central archive of Gaza municipality fit that description?

Would the trafficking of children after the murder of their parents fit that description?

Would the Israeli ambassador to the UK Tzipi Hotovely calling for the destruction of all Gaza fit?

Would an israeli lawmaker advocating for starvation fit?

Would israeli analyst Eliyahu Yossian saying Israel should level the ground in Gaza, kill as many as possible & spare no one fit?

Would soldiers deliberately killing children fit?

Would saying "As long as there are Arabs in Gaza, the State of Israel is under threat" fit?

Would calling for the destruction of all buildings in Gaza fit?

Would Israel's Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem saying "Palestinians are not human beings & not human animals, they are subhuman and that is how they should be treated." fit?

Would flooding the land with seawater, destroying aquifers and rendering agriculture and drinking water impossible fit?

Would all of that combined in the span of three months fit the definition of a genocide?

Oh, and I see Blinken is visiting israel to "stop settler violence" and "protect civilians and stopping indiscriminate bombing"? Would that happen to be the same Blinken who approved $147.5 million worth of M107 155mm artillery munitions, to Israel, bypassing Congress approval by activating a national emergency on december 30th?

"Biden knows how to use soft power to influence Israel" is that why on november 25th he lifted nearly every restriction to israel's access to US's weapons stockpile?

Is "soft power" why the US vetoed Security Council draft resolution that would have demanded an immediate humanitarian ceasefire in Gaza, and immediate and unconditional release of all hostages on december 8th, the same day they pressed congress to approve tank shells for israel? Is voting against a ceasefire on december 12th "influencing israel and protecting civilianz further"? Surely you don't mean to tell me that all of that happened behind Biden's back, and that he was powerless to stop it or reverse it

You know who actually pressured israel to stop bombing civilians? Reagan. Fucking scum of the earth, may he suffer in hell for all eternity and beyond Ronald piece of shit Reagan forced israel to call a ceasefire on their offensive against Lebanon. Meanwhile, Biden hugs Netanyahu as he slaughters hundreds of gazans every day

That's why people accuse Biden of supporting a genocide. Because that's exactly what he's doing

The confidence and casualness of people talking about genocide will never cease to amaze me.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Pride Month is right around the Corner! Yay! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Marinette, Kim, and Nino- The Trio of Transcendenceness... Ness 🏳️‍⚧️

Marinette, Kim, and Nino have been best friends since birth, and do pretty much everything together

If some rando were to look at them, they’d think it’s odd that Marinette likes to wear pink and gaze starry-eyed at dresses in store windows while Kim and Nino like to play with action figures and shop for clothes in the boys’ section

And people swore they saw them get teary-eyed whenever someone said their birth names

Tom and Sabine sort of just knew that Marinette was somewhere on the trans spectrum, and let their so- daughter buy whatever outfits she wanted and grow her hair out

Marinette: I wanna be a princess when I grow up!

Rando: Don’t you mean a prince?

Marinette: No! I’m the Princess of princes!

She officially came out when she was seven

Her parents were supportive. Confused, but supportive. They even made her a three layered cake with Trans flags toppers

She named herself after a princess she read about in a book

Kim and Nino did everything they could to help their sister

Nino gave her the makeup kit he never uses and a bunch of his hair accessories

Kim gave her some clothes he doesn’t like wearing

Whenever someone asks what happened to their friend, [CENSORED]. Kim and Nino say their friend went on a long trip and is never coming back

Kim was second to come out when he was nine

He loved how carefree Marinette looked after she had what he and Nino call her “Gender Awakening”

He was confused about some things though, and asked her to explain how she came to the conclusion that she wasn’t a guy

Marinette: Well, I never liked how people kept calling me by my old name, and whenever I had to wear boy’s clothes, my skin crawled a bit.

Kim: ... I’m trans, I wear pants, deal with it!

His parents were very supportive and his mom even threw a one-woman pride parade in the backyard

Kim: Is mom okay?

Kim’s dad: She’s just happy for you. Now let’s go get you a haircut, young man before you look like a hippie.

In Vietnamese, Kim means gold/metal (A little reference to the gold medals he’s one in sports)

Marinette made him a custom binder that’s red with a gold star on the front

Nino cut his hair and is even learning how to contour so he can do Kim’s makeup to make him look more masculine

Finally, Nino came out when he was ten. He just figured it out on his own like Marinette

Nino: Your daughter’s dead, dudes. I’m taking over her room.

Chris: *Stares in awe* That is... awesome!

His parents supported him wholeheartedly

He chose his name because it’s Spanish for boy

Marinette made him a binder and she and Kim took Nino clothes shopping

Since they’re all best friends, they wanna do everything together

When they were ten, the three of them started taking their hormones

On dysphoria days, they’ll get under a big blanket and snuggle up while watching Disney movies until they fall asleep. Nino and Marinette would sandwich Kim in the middle while he wrapped his arms around them

Sometimes they wear matching hoodies that are a few sizes too big and just hide everything

On their first day of collége, all three of them were dead named in one of their classes since the school didn’t update their names

Word spread. Long story short, Kim and Nino beat up a boy who deadnamed Marinette and asked for “proof”

Their classmates were very supportive and always corrected teachers who accidentally say their dead names during role call

Many guys who had crushes on Marinette offered to beat up or threaten anyone harassing her

Nathaniel (Before meeting Marc) almost framed one of her bullies for murder

The swim team wore gender neutral swimwear so Kim wouldn’t feel like the odd one out until he got his surgery

Guys will always put emphasis on ‘Dude’ whenever talking to Nino

Students offered to stand guard whenever they used the bathroom in case anyone tried anything else

When Alya and Adrien came along, they were all so nervous. Sure, most of the school was pretty tolerant, but what if someone outs them and the new students turn out to be bullies in their own class?!

Once again, they were outed by some asshole Damocles won’t expel for some shit reason

Alya beat the asshole to a pulp (Which caused Nino’s crush on her to start) while Adrien treated his three new friends to ice cream

When they started dating and Nino was feeling dysphoric, Alya will say things like: “My boyfriend is the manliest man ever.”

... Ah, fuck it! Bring out the Miraculous!🐞🐈‍⬛🐢

Marinette is Ladybug/Nino is Carapace/Kim is Mèo đen (They all know each other’s identities because they opened the boxes together in Marinette’s room)

Thanks to a little magic, they have the bodies they’ve always dreamed of having

One Akuma they faced was some transphobic dick who they did not go easy on. Carapace and Mèo đen had to reluctantly keep Ladybug from murdering him in front of a bunch of people

Now, Lila? (I can’t go one second without Lila salt) She’s a new member of the assholes club but doesn’t know others know Marinette, Kim, and Nino are trans

She runs into class sobbing like a dumb [BLEEP] and whines about how Marinette assaulted her in the bathroom

The class was not amused and Lila never did become popular

Then the big day came. They were eighteen and they got their surgery together in the same hospital

Doctors and nurses gushed over how sweet it was three best friends were taking this huge step together

Kim and Nino’s first act was to burn their bras. Marinette even joined in even though she needed hers’

🏳️‍⚧️ Okay, onto the Pride headcanons! 🏳️‍⚧️

Some consider them Trans icons

It’s not every day a group of best friends come out as Transgender and get their surgery on the same day

They go to Pride every year, and thanks to Marinette, they’re always the best dressed

Their outfits mainly consist of sleeveless hoodies, crop tops, sandals, and bedazzled shorts and capes

Every time Marinette inhales, a terf gets punched

Every time Marinette exhales, a trans kid gets a cupcake

Mari makes pride capes, bedazzles them, and passes them out at parades

Kim is very popular with the drag Queens.

He is a lip sync god

Children love him and always ask for piggyback rides

He’s notorious for making flower crowns for the kids

Nino takes on the role of the mom friend when they got to pride

He once put Mari and Kim on those baby leashes so they wouldn’t wander off

He also supplies juice boxes and snacks

After their surgery, Nino and Kim pass out their old binders.

Kim’s would definitely look like sports jerseys

Nino’s binders are neon and one even glows in the dark

He wears hoodies no matter how hot it is

Marinette: Nino, take that off!

Nino: *Sweating more than the average person* No!

Marinette once beat up a terf who was harassing Kim and Nino for being “traitors to their sex”

The terf left with bruises and a small crush

[shadowfae]

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and  Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea. 

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents  but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers. 

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

[deniigi]

obsessed with your characterisation of the armorer they are SO GOOD

MY GIRL MY GUY MY DUDE

I love them so much.

I’ve thought about their whole life story too much, I swear. I even did a mock up of what they look like in my head, but I hate it and now have to redo it because it’s not perfect and if its not I will perish.

Which is healthy as fuck, thanks for asking.

Anyways, they’re amazing and they’re such a good parent and a great spiritual leader. Have this little bit of a piece I did where Han and Leia are trying to decide whether to let Ben stay a jedi or become a Mandalorian.

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

The Armorer appeared to live in the most rudimentary quarters in the covert. She had a small table with crates as seats and no bed to be seen. Presumably, somewhere behind the long length of draped fabric over the far wall there was a bunk or even a set of them for her and her daughter, but Han got the feeling that that space was off limits.

“The children have taken to your little one,” the Armorer said at her table. “The smaller ones don’t understand why he’s not in their courses.”

Right. About that.

“Ben feels at home with these kids, too,” Leia said. “But we’re not—we’re—”

“Jedi,” the Armorer said. “I understand.”

Leia looked up at her.

“I’m not a good mother,” she said. “I don’t claim to be. But if there is one thing I need to teach my son, it’s how not to become like my own father. Luke is as different from him as you can get, but he’s telling me that even that is not enough.”

The Armorer’s helmet seemed brighter somehow, even with only the single lantern to light it.

“You worry about his relationship with power,” she said to Leia.

“I myself am Force-sensitive, but I never learned the way of the jedi,” Leia said. “Luke’s taken on our family’s sins in a way that I don’t pretend to understand. He’s rebuilding a culture that our father nearly snuffed out. It only made sense to let him teach Ben.”

The Armorer tilted her head to the side.

“Your brother knows what it is to be powerless, though, does he not?” she asked.

“He does,” Leia said.

“Your son does not.”

“It’s not a matter of what is and what isn’t with the Force, if you feel deceived or betrayed, that’s enough to send you over the edge,” Leia explained.

“I see,” the Armorer said. “So you wish to teach your boy restraint.”

“Discipline,” Leia said.

The Armorer shook her head.

“Discipline comes with time,” she said. “Restraint first. Restraint can be brought forth by thinking of yourself as one of many.”

“Is it possible to become a Mandalorian without being a foundling?” Han asked.

The Armorer’s helmet’s eyes came up to settle upon him.

And then she laughed.

“You’ve mistaken us here for the zealots that Bo-Katan Kryze claims us to be,” she said. “Is it possible? Of course it is. Anyone who chooses to follow the Creed is a Mandalorian, no questions asked. Being a warrior is only one part of a larger whole, you understand? Din, for example, has always shown excellent prowess with languages and negotiating between cultures. It is his calling to make peace as much as it is to fight in battle. Shimmol is an artist and is interested in styles that I could not imagine to appear in our metals. We have mechanics, we have organizers, cooks and weavers and storytellers. What matters first is the Way, our commitment to the Creed and to each other. Here, in this group, anyways.”

Leia leaned her elbows on the table.

“What makes you different from Bo-Katan?” she asked.

“Besides a sense of humility?” the Armorer asked. “Not as much as she wants to believe.”

“Did you murder three people thirty years ago?” Leia asked.

“You do me wrong, it’s not been thirty yet,” the Armorer said.

Han didn’t know what he was expecting. The honesty was sort of refreshing, especially given the temperature of this place.

“Why did you do it?” Leia asked.

“Because I was not willing to use my hands to protect those who would kill my own people,” the Armorer said simply. “As long as Mandalorians continue to shed the blood of other Mandalorians, I will not build for them. The people at this covert all have their own reasons for staying here, poor and separated from clans, families, and old friends. They have taken an oath to support their fellow Mandalorians and their dedication is first and foremost to the tenets of the Way. For them, I will build whatever it takes.”

Leia pressed her lips together. Han felt for her hand under the table.

“Would you protect our son?” he asked.

“I would protect him now, no need for him to take an oath,” the Armorer said. “It is the Creed to protect children above all other costs. It is why we have come here to Zeffo. And it is through them that this culture lives on.”

Han swallowed. Leia’s hand was clammy in his. The Armorer must have read their anxiety. She stood up and gestured for them to follow.

“If you have concerns remaining, then bring me the child. I need his help to clarify things for you,” she said.

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

[eretzyisrael]

An extinguished, precious life remembered in Melbourne

Twenty years ago we started the endless process of adjusting to life without our delightful first-born daughter Malka Chana - Malki to her friends - stolen from us before she reached her sixteenth birthday.

Our copy of the Melbourne Herald-Sun's front page report on August 11, 2001 isdamaged. We are trying to acquire a repairedimage.

It wasn't an illness or a tragic accident that removed Malki from the warm embrace of those who loved her. It was a gang of ideology-crazed thugs led by a chillingly satanic Jordanian woman, armed with a powerful explosive package disguised as a human being, an Arab man in his twenties, and egged on by millions of backers.

Those millions still exert a deeply painful influence on our lives.

We scan the Arabic social media six days a week. This week on the day of the twentieth anniversary we saw - though we didn't need it - plenty of evidence of how utterly different the world in which they live their lives is from ours in this generations-long war of terror.

It's a war that Arabs launched against against Jews in Palestine long before the name Palestine was appropriated by the Arab side. And decades before the State of Israel announced its existence as new-born state on the 1948 day the British Mandate ended and six Arab armies invaded.

A random selection of some deeply hostile and ugly anniversary messages appearing on Twitter (minus the links - we have interest in giving these people any traffic or attention):

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of Operation Sbarro carried out by the martyr Izz Al-Din Al-Masri in Jaffa Street in occupied Jerusalem with the help of the liberated captive Ahlam Al-Tamimi in retaliation for the martyrdom of the two leaders Gamal Selim and Jamal Mansour [Arabic]

..A martyrdom operation in the Sbarro restaurant in Jerusalem which led to the deaths of 20 Zionists and the wounding of 100 [Arabic]

We do not want to forget the liberated captive, Ahlam Al-Tamimi, who carried the attacker of the Sbarro restaurant, Izz Al-Din Al-Masri, to the restaurant after which she was arrested by the occupation army [Arabic]

Prepare it for them in the manner of the people of Aqaba and serve it [pizza] hot and delicious. Al-Masri [the name of the human bomb], go through here. Occupied Jerusalem August 9, 2001 [Arabic]

Proud of our representative from the family in the heroic operation. The liberated captive, Ahlam Al-Tamimi, who transported the martyr Izz Al-Din Al-Masri and handed him a guitar stuffed with maddening death [Arabic - posted by a male with the surname Tamimi]

...Al-Masri was killed on the responsibility of the Jews and their responsibility is extensive [Arabic]

If her parents hadn’t chosen to become foreign invaders she’d probably be alive now

My argument is with the creation of an apartheid theocratic state created by the West (mostly by the US and Britain) in Palestine largely so Jews wouldn't immigrate to the US. I'm a Jew not an Israeli Zionist. She should never have been put in this position by her dad.

We saw no Arabic messages condemning or criticizing Tamimi or the massacre. They might exist and we're just not seeing them, but the truth is we have been looking for years and not finding.

Malki, like her father, was born in Australia. The current edition of the Australian Jewish News, a weekly community-focused newspaper, ran this editorial on Thursday. It's reprinted with the permission of its editor, Zeddy Lawrence.

‘A precious life extinguished’

"THE Australian Jewish community was in mourning this week," reported The AJN 20 years ago, on Friday, August 17, 2001. "The death of 15-year-old Malki Roth in the Sbarro bombing catapulted Israel's crisis into personal grief for much of this community."

Fifteen innocent people were killed in the terrorist attack just a few days earlier, when a guitar case packed with nails was detonated at the central Jerusalem pizza restaurant. Among the victims were seven people aged between just two and 16. Scores of other diners were wounded.

Reflecting on the death of his daughter at the time, Arnold Roth told The AJN, "This was the extinguishing of a precious life."

Ahlam Aref Ahmad Al-Tamimi, who masterminded the attack and drove the bomber to the restaurant, was apprehended by Israel soon afterwards and sentenced to 16 life terms in an Israeli jail. But in 2011, she was one of more than 1000 Palestinian prisoners freed in exchange for the release of Gilad Shalit, who had been held hostage in Gaza for five years.

Since that time, Tamimi has lived in Jordan, feted as a celebrity, and expressing her joy at the high death toll the Sbarro bombing inflicted.

Determined to bring her back to justice, Arnold and his American-born wife Frimet have long called for her to be extradited to the US, as Malki and another victim held American citizenship.

A warrant was issued, but insisting the extradition treaty between the countries was never ratified, Jordan has never acted on it.

The latest evidence, however, appears to show that the treaty was indeed signed.

With that in mind, as the community marks 20 years since Malki's death, the Roths are hoping their sustained campaign may bear fruit.

Pressure is mounting within Washington for the US to withhold foreign assistance from Jordan, and they're urging the Australian government – who they claim have been reticent to speak out – to also take a stand.

Twenty years on, we share their hope that the authorities, both here and Stateside, will take action, so that the unrepentant, bragging terrorist who has Malki's blood on her hands will soon be back behind bars, where she belongs.

The same AJN edition carried this article by senior journalist Peter Kohn:

Still seeking justice for Malki Roth

ON the 20th of Av this year (July 29), Arnold and Frimet Roth visited the Israeli grave of Malki Roth and recited Kaddish. It was their daughter’s yahrzeit – 20 years after the Australian-born teenager was murdered in a Palestinian terrorist attack at a Jerusalem pizzeria, along with 15 others, including seven children.

“Life was heavy,” Malki’s father told The AJN this week, reflecting on the yahrzeit. “You’re missing somebody desperately and feel awful about the fact that she’s not part of your life.”

But this Monday, August 9, the secular anniversary of Malki’s killing, Roth was back on Zoom and on the phone continuing his relentless campaign to see Ahlam Tamimi, the mastermind of the attack, extradited from Jordan to the US. “The ninth of August … that’s all about justice,” he stated.

Tamimi had picked out the Sbarro pizzeria targeted by her and another bomber on August 9, 2001, her accomplice dying in the attack. Tamimi left the scene disguised as a tourist, later professing her glee as the ever-rising death toll was reported.

Although sentenced in Israel to 16 consecutive life terms, she was exchanged in a 2011 prisoner swap to free Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit from Hamas captivity. She continues to be feted as a media celebrity in Jordan, and, according to Roth, she recently added a regular newspaper column to her stint as a Jordanian TV show host.

In the US, she faces charges relating to the death of two American citizens – Malki, who held dual citizenship, being one of them – and an extradition request was issued in 2017.

But four years on, Roth is still battling three governments to get Tamimi extradited.

For years, the US had maintained its hands were tied because Jordan had not ratified its extradition treaty, a position stated by a Jordanian court in 2017. However, in 2019, Roth learned from an American official that Jordan had indeed ratified the treaty as far back as 1995.

Last year, under US freedom-of-information laws, he even received an archived letter from Jordan’s former monarch King Hussein to the US State Department confirming that fact. He is hopeful this legal development will provide a much needed stepping stone.

Desperate for the Australian government to weigh in, Roth’s entreaties to Malcolm Turnbull when he was PM did not bear fruit. Approaches to Prime Minister Scott Morrison last year were referred to Foreign Minister Marise Payne, whose office cited constitutional problems in Jordan with extraditing its nationals, an assertion Roth rejects because oddly “it goes beyond what the Jordanians say”.

In Israel meanwhile, Roth says his fight to have Tamimi extradited to the US has been “betrayed by a chain of Netanyahu governments and, so far at least, by the new government. Of course, Israel could do something. But Israel has no charges against this woman. Israel has washed its hands of the case.”

Roth’s growing perception is that justice for Malki has become expendable to higher policy priorities in Jerusalem, Washington and Canberra.

“There’s a lot of group-think going on – among Israelis, among Americans, among media people,” he said, describing Tamimi as “the most wanted female fugitive alive today”.

The Roths maintain their ties to the families of other victims of the Sbarro bombing, particularly to a victim who remains “in a vegetative state”, he said.

Arnold remains honorary chair of the Malki Foundation, established in his daughter’s memory to support children with disabilities. Malki had been a caring, loving companion to her severely disabled younger sister and others with special needs.

“A 15-year-old girl who had a legacy – it’s unbelievable, but she did,” exclaimed Roth. “She was so good, so empathetic, so involved in making the world better for children with special needs.”

This blog isn't a memorial to our daughter. That function belongs to the website of the Malki Foundation (www.kerenmalki.org). We hope you will visit it.

In the context of terrorism and the worldwide efforts to defeat it, we write here at the site you are now visiting about our efforts to bring Malki's killers to justice - in particular Ahlam Tamimi. the Jordanian orchestrator of the massacre at Sbarro twenty years ago.

Tamimi, now 41 years old and a celebrity in the Arab world, lives free and famous in her homeland despite being the world's most woman female fugitive with a $5M reward issued by the US State Department for her capture and conviction.

One valuable way to give us your support is to sign our petition at change.org/ExtraditeTamimi

[jbbuckybarnes]

Scared & Sacred - Ch. 8

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close  to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: parenting, fluff, helmetless Din, violence, sexism, sibling double trouble, canon divergent, not proofread.

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 8 - Parenting

Grogu was clapping giddily, watching Din hold Dodies little hands. „C‘mon princess, one step at a time.“ He encouraged his one year old daughter. „Gogu!“ Dodie yelled and looked at Grogu who squealed back at her. The little girl took one wobbly step forward, „Good, just like that. Can you do one more for me?“ She took another wobbly step, „Yeees, just like that my little warrior, one more.“ Dodie took another step and then let herself sag, Din immediately picking her up. „That‘s my warrior princess.“ He nuzzled into her belly with a growl, hearing her giggle. His favorite melody. „Dada, Malo?“ She grabbed his bearded cheek. „Yes, dada has some Mandalore duties to fulfill.“ He smiled at her curious little face. You were on a little trip for diplomacy with his best men. He and his group had baby duty. „Come?“ She used his own eyes against him. Oh how he hated that she had his eyes sometimes. „That‘s nothing for little princesses.“ He cooed and tickled her a little but she frowned. „Wawo Pinses.“ She crossed her arms. „Yeah, I know, you‘re a warrior princess, but that‘s nothing for your beautiful little eyes darling. Dada has to be very strict with some people there.“ He explained carefully. „No! Come!“ She pouted at him, stubborn as both her parents. „Dodie!“ He raised one brow, but she held her frown. They held a staring contest for almost a minute before he sighed, „Fine.“ A squeal and claps came in return.

He put on his armor bit by bit under four attentive eyes. His two kids sitting there acting suspiciously calm and good. „You‘re planning something. You‘re never this nice at the same time.“ He squinted at them and got even bigger innocent eyes back. Before putting on his helmet he grabbed Dodies little beskar tiara and put it on her head, making sure it wouldn‘t fall off by weaving her hair around the sides. Then gave Grogu the little pin he liked playing with recently. „You ready?“ Four arms went up excitedly. A sigh came from his deepest soul with a tiny smile on his face, „When in my past did I decide to have a Jedi AND a Mandalorian kid?“ He put his helmet on and picked both of them up gently, left and right.

Beskar spear left, darksaber right. Dodie on his left thigh, Grogu on his right thigh. „Shall I take care of the children, your highness?“ One of his female helpers asked. „No, they belong here. Thank you for asking, Aruki.“ He nodded and looked at the first guest of the day. The man from some far away planet pleading for allyship had gone on for ten minutes when Dodie sighed, „Boro, Dada.“ Boro, that‘s her word for boring and he really tried to not snort beneath his helmet. „You heard the Princess of Mandalore. You‘re boring us.“ He moved the spear to make his two guards move the man. „Well done, princess.“ He gently went over her back and felt her giggle.

„A man on a throne with kids. Pathetic.“ An ex-empire stood in front of them. „Just teaching them young, scum!“ He would need to explain that to you if the kids started using it. „Parenting is a job for a woman. You‘re stooping low.“ He knew he was hitting a spot. The siblings looked at each other and each narrowed their eyes, „Man doo doo.“ „Ba!“ Grogu responded and both of them looked at him like that. „Aww, am I supposed to be intimidated?“ He chuckled at the kids. A crisp humming sound cut through the chuckle, „Yes, you should.“ „Oh, I hit a nerve.“ He held up his hands. „You‘re about to hit a nerve for the last time if you don‘t shut your mouth!“ He chuckled, „Men!“ Four guards grabbed the man to put him into a cell. „Sleepy dada!“ Dodie looked up, came closer to his chest and leaned against the cold beskar. The darksaber deactivated and he put it aside to put that hand on her small back. „Alright, little warrior. Dad‘s here, you can sleep.“ He had found out the weird way that she liked to sleep with her head on something cold.

After dealing with two more guests he let the chamber be closed for visitations and let his people gather in the throne room to prepare a big dinner for your return from your trip. Grogu walked around on the long table they set up and stole a fruit here and there with his big cute eyes looking at these hardened warriors. He knew how to get his food for sure. “Don’t feed him too much!” Din chuckled and looked down at Dodie still sleeping in his arm even after he stood up to check in with people around the room. His fingers gently wandered over her puffy cheek. That’s when you entered the chamber. He didn’t notice, too busy staring straight down at his princess with his helmet still on, unable to see the doors, caressing her face. Your heart melted at the scene in front of you before you felt a familiar grasp around your right leg. You looked down to two big inky eyes lovingly staring back at you. “Hey little womp rat!” You picked him up and heard him coo into your ears and grab at your travel attire. He loved the fluffy cloaks you wore sometimes. He went as far as stealing them to sleep in them. 

Din felt a hand wanting to push off his helmet and snapped out of his gaze at his daughter. Realizing that anyone could’ve caught him off-guard and only his trust in his soldiers kept him safe here. As soon as he caught a look of you he relaxed and moved against your hand to help you get it off. “Softness looks good on a Mandalorian.” You grinned and gave him a peck on the lips. “And that helmet looks good on you.” He winked and watched you putting it on. He looked you up and down in your dark purple clothes, the lilac fluffy cloak, the little bag Grogu had just made himself home in to find provisions, the blaster on your other side and then his helmet on your head. Like a perfect wife. A princess, mother, warrior, queen, diplomat, lover, caretaker, force of pure power. You looked feminine, yet like you could murder anyone around you in seconds. Motherly, soft, strong and he knew you had the skill to kill by now. “I’d kneel in front of my queen, but the Princess of Mandalore needs her naps.” He narrowed his eyes with a grin before looking down at Dodie to give her a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for the nice welcome.” You nodded towards the long table and saw his eyes turn soft. “Of course. You’ve been hard at work, my queen.” He watched you take off his helmet again and set it on the head of a naughty Grogu eating into your little food bag. A surprised distorted sound came back at you and made the both of you chuckled. “Mama?” Now you looked over to Dodie just waking up again. “Yes, I’m back ad’ika.” You went over her hair and back before giving her a kiss.

“She took three steps today with my help.” He shared proudly sitting next to you while picking up another piece of meat. “Is that so, Dodie?” You looked at her in her baby seat across from you and saw her gigantic smile. “Mama is proud of you.” You cheered. “They grow up so fast.” You heard Aruki next to you on the other side. “They really do.” You sighed and looked at your two children talking to each other in baby noises. 

___

Reblog to support a content creator!

[dreamersdreamloud]

Drug Cartels (Part 2)

Lionel Luthor wasn't the only one with a family. Your father (Y/F/N) found your mother around the same time that Lionel found his future wife. (Y/F/N) went on a small vacation in Europe before going back to Mexico to deal with the drug business. Your mother and father hit off quickly and continued to pursue this relationship. Your parents never got officially married but in the eyes of their cartel family, it looked like they were. Ever since you were born, Los Reyes Alfa Cartel was always there for you. Despite not being connected by blood, they were highly considered your family. 

Your parents and you made so many connections and each member treated you as their own daughter too. Although your parents are drug lords, they never really used their power to scare people unless they were disloyal or a danger to the community. Your father was the iron fist while your mother represented the caring hands. It was perfect. 

People who work for Los Reyes Alfa were well taken care of. Children felt safe within the cartel and they were able to go to school without any financial issues due to the cartel providing. The elderly were watched over and the poor were not so poor. Los Reyes Alfa were never selfish or greedy about the money they make. They rather give it away to those who need it then keeping it all to themselves. 

When you turned 24, your parents handed over the power to you. They no longer wanted to be part of it due to them being highly wanted from the feds and that they wanted to live the rest of their lives in peace. You didn’t mind the transition of power and your parents trained you ever since you were a kid. 

They went into hiding after they sent out their condolences to Lionel Luthor. You personally haven’t met the Luthors but your parents did tell you that Lionel is a very close friend to your father and that our cartel groups shouldn’t clash. Not until Lex Luthor decided to declare war against your cartel family. 

“Jefe! ¿Escuchaste? La hermana de Lex se escapó de su cartel. 

(Boss! Did you hear? Lex’s sister ran away from her cartel.) 

A short woman came in the room while you were on the balcony in one of the many homes you  own, watching the oceanside view. It was your area of peace to just watch the sun rise and set whenever you want to relax. 

“Lo dice en serio? (Are you serious?). Maggie, go send out some people to find the woman. Maybe her bastard brother and I can make a deal.” 

Maggie Sawyer is one of your closest members of the cartel to you but before she started working for Los Reyes Alfa, your parents rescued her when she was 16 years-old from her abusive father. She was abused for being gay and that she was a disgraced to her own family. Your parents caught the drunken father beating Maggie in public. Your mother was horrified that the father was beating his child based on a stupid reason so your father took action and shot the man at blank point. They left the man to bleed on the dirt streets of where Maggie used to live, an example of what it looks like to beat your children for no just reason. 

Your parents took Maggie away and introduced you to her. You became close like sisters and helped find a new family that was willing to accept who she is. It wasn’t long until Kara and Alex Danvers also joined the cartel. They were willing to join after their parents were murdered by James Olsen’s cartel. The Danvers sisters could not support themselves after the devastating loss. Alex dropped out of medical school and Kara quit being a reporter due to not making enough money. 

Your parents and you took good care of the girls. There are times where you all fought but made up. What made this little group interesting is that all of you came out gay and you were all proud becuase no one can say shit about it. If they did, people better hope you come back home in a body bag instead of being found in the river or hanging in public. 

*** 

6 months later 

Lena Luthor, now known as Kieran Lee, is found hanging out in a nightclub. Lena just got off work from a small business pharmacy not too far from where she lives. Lena was able to find a place where it was not Luthor Cartel territory but in Los Reyes Alfa grounds. She was worried that one of Lex’s men would find her but nobody came for months. No talks were going around if the raven-haired woman was seen in these grounds. It made her worry but soon she was got comfortable. 

Lena from time to time, keeps track of what the Luthor Cartel were doing, only to find out that Lex is murdering more people each week for not obeying his power. Although his men are out there killing and stealing, Lex is increasing his wealth. He was able to smuggle more drugs than their late father ever did before.  

The raven-haired tries to ignore her brother’s actions but it was difficult. She wants to do something about it but she doesn't know how. She wishes she had her own cartel of her own, send out orders to stop his reign but also help out the poor and weak. The least she could do is keep working in the small pharmacy with an old couple who owns it, she was able to help sick children and eldry. Lena would pay some of the medications with her leftover money for those who really need it. Sometimes, if she has the right chemicals and powders, she would make her own meds in her apartment space and give them for free. 

Tonight, Lena wants to feel numb. She plans to just drink a few drinks and socialize to make connections. Helpful connections at least. 

“Hermosa chica! Come and dance!” A random male has been trying to make moves on Lena. She wasn’t having any of it. Whenever she comes to this nightclub, a guy would try to flirt with the green eyed beauty. Tonight, he takes a chance and grabs Lena by the arm to force the woman to dance with him. 

“Let go of me!” Lena tries to break free but the man just grins and gropes her ass. The man’s glory moment didn’t last long and ended up being pushed to the floor by another figure. A blonde above the injured drunken man with her back facing Lena. 

“Ya know. It’s not nice to manhandle a woman, amigo. Women won’t like that. When she says no. . .” The blonde kicks the man between his legs and screams out his pain. “That’s what happens.” 

Everyone around looks at them but quickly ignores the situation. Another male came in to help the crippled guy on the floor and walked away. 

“Are you okay?” The blonde asks Lena who just can’t believe what just happened in front of her. Her emerald green eyes met the blue eyes, she was a bit lost. She took a quick minute to study the blonde’s strong looking figure. 

“Mhm. So may I have the name of my savior?” Lena plans to get laid tonight. 

The blue eyes chuckled, “Kara Danvers.” 

“Kieran Lee.” They shook hands and exchanged flirty smiles. 

“Can I buy you another drink, Kieran?” 

Lena didn’t turn down a free drink which turned out to be many more. The raven haired lost track of time and how many drinks she had. She was feeling free and relaxed. The two women danced on one another, not caring how scandalous it was looking. 

“Let’s go somewhere private, yeah?” Kara says into Lena’s ear while she pulls her in very close to her body. 

The two stumbled into one of the dark areas of the nightclub, they shared rush heated kisses until Lena felt a prick on her neck. Those are not teeth, Lena quickly thought. 

She sees that Kara is holding a needle in her hand and that her steel blue eyes focused on Lena’s reaction to the injection. Lena suddenly felt dizzy and the sounds around her were sounding farther by the second. 

“Nothing personal, hermosa.” The blonde finally says when Lena eyes slowly closes and starts to fall forward. A short red head woman came quickly to Kara’s side to help carry the raven haired. 

“That was easy but you took a while. We need to leave now before Boss loses her patience.” The red haired tells Kara. 

“I can’t just prick her, Alex! She needed to feel comfortable with me first.” Kara says back to her sister. 

“Whatever. Maggie is waiting outside. . Let’s go..” 

Kara easily carried Lena in her arms and Alex guided the way out to the car. The three went inside the back of the black Jeep Wrangler, placing Lena between the Danver sisters. 

“She looks like a hot mess.” Maggie looks at the unconscious woman. 

“Apparently, Kara wanted to have a little fun.” Alex comments and Kara just shrugs. 

They drove off and made their way back to the base. Another black Jeep followed closely behind them. 

“Is someone following us?” Alex questions the driver. 

“They’re one of ours. (Y/N) was kind enough to send back up just in case Lex’s men found Lena before us.” Maggie answers. 

“I’m guessing Winn and Mike are in that car?” Kara looks behind to see if she can see the faces in the car.

“Yup!” 

The group is glad that the kidnapping went perfectly fine. They didn’t need to harm anyone in the club but the drive back home is going to take a while. They have 3 hours to drive back to their destination. 

*** 

“You lost my sister?!” Lex yells at the two men in front him. 

They didn’t know what to say. Maxwell Lord was still suffering the pain between his legs and hopes the ice is helping him recover. John Corben was planning to go back to grab the raven haired but she was with the blonde the whole time. It made it difficult to go and grab the missing Luthor sibling.  

“We couldn’t get her alone. She was drinking with this blonde the whole time. Then we lost the two of them in the club. Maybe the blonde took her home but we’re close to finding your sister’s apartment for more clues.” 

“Well why are you still here! Go! You’re wasting my fucking time.” Lex yells at them again. 

I’ll find you Lena. One way or another. Lex says to himself. 

[ukrfeminism]

After four decades at the helm of the women’s rights group Southall Black Sisters (SBS), Pragna Patel stepped down as director at the beginning of this year.

“It was time to move on,” says Patel, whose next move will “be something in the broader parameters of activism — that’s in my blood. I can’t see myself ever not being focused on things that need to be put right.”

Patel, 61, came to the UK from Kenya in 1965. She vividly recalls being the focus of curiosity as she stepped off the aeroplane on a cold, wet December night. “As a child, I didn’t understand why people were staring at us,” she says.

Later, she realised it was the combination of her brown skin and the fact that she was wearing a yellow, sleeveless cotton summer dress and flip flops.

Her father had come to the UK as an economic migrant, hitchhiking his way from Kenya and spending his first night in London sleeping at Victoria Station. His hazardous journey, notes Patel, was still safer than the journeys made by migrants today.

He worked at three jobs to earn enough money to bring his family to London. Racism made it difficult for her parents, who got factory work, to find employment or rented accommodation, so the family moved around London’s boroughs.

“I grew up with a sense of being an outsider and not understanding why,” says Patel, who attributes this burning sense of injustice to fuelling her “gut instinct” towards activism.

The eldest of four daughters, she found that growing up in a traditional, patriarchal community added to a sense of injustice. “My immediate female relatives all accepted their lot — marriage and children,” says Patel, who also as a teenager faced pressure to marry against her will.

Inspired by reading the defiant work of her first role model, Mahatma Gandhi, Patel “began a campaign of civil disobedience in my family”. Her mantra was “I will not submit”, the motif of James Joyce’s alter ego in The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.

Her resistance was successful, and she went to study English literature and sociology at a higher education college in Liverpool.

Returning to Southall in west London, where the family lived, in the summer holiday, Patel met some young Asian women selling a newspaper produced by Southall Black Sisters, a group of Asian and Afro-Caribbean women that campaigned against sex, race and class discrimination.

“They were feisty, assertive, feminists — everything I had been told not to be — and proud of who they were,” she says.

The word “black” used in the name was a political and unifying term that aimed to bring together disparate minority communities with common histories of imperialism and colonialism.

Southall in the 1970s was at the centre of the UK’s anti-racism movement, when the community rose up to oppose a National Front march through the borough. A white anti-racist activist, Blair Peach, was killed by the police and 400 Asian youths were arrested, but not a single white youth was arrested.

Patel found the message of the SBS inspiring, and aged 22, when the group’s leaders moved on to other activities, she re-founded it, inspired by the law centres movement and with a grant from the Greater London Council.

The group gained national attention supporting Kiranjit Ahluwalia, whose successful 1992 appeal against her conviction for murdering her violent husband changed the law on provocation and the understanding of battered woman syndrome.

“I had no idea it was going to become a big case,” says Patel. “We were dealing with new things and learning about the issues ourselves.”

The case not only “struck a national chord”, but represented a “wonderful moment of unity when feminists of all backgrounds came together demanding justice for women — for the right to defend themselves”.

Today, she fears that identity politics has “fragmented unity” and warns of the “real danger” that as feminist, progressive antiracists emphasise their differences, they lose their sense of humanity and solidarity.

Patel recalls going to Yorkshire in the 1970s to stand on the picket lines to support striking miners. “We didn’t do it because we thought miners were non-sexist or non-racist; we did it to say that we have common struggles.”

In the face of increasing moves by the state to strip people’s citizenship, criminalise migrants, amend human rights protections and clamp down on protest, Patel is adamant that that spirit of unity must be rekindled.

“Forget about progressing rights, we have to think about how we hang on to them. Political forces are against us on this. We have to step up our game.”

Patel is particularly concerned about the rise in religious fundamentalism around the world, which she says is an attack on women’s rights, and moves to restrict protest.

“Protest is part of the feminist armoury. When you have nothing else left, you only have your voice.”

She is also troubled by the politics of the debate around transgenderism and the effect it has on reducing women’s rights. The “erasure of women is the single most regressive act”, she says.

Describing herself as a “champion of sex-based rights”, Patel stresses the harms that women and girls face because of their sex, including female foeticide and infanticide.

She says that she supports trans rights and the ability of people to live without discrimination. But, she stresses: “I’m not for a politics based on erasing others who are vulnerable.”

Away from activism, Patel enjoys cricket, though she adds that the game is “a story of empire”. Her ideal day, she says, is taking a picnic to watch England play India, admitting that supporting India, she would “never pass the Tebbit test”.

[ladyherenya]

This was more-books-than-sometimes month, because rather than take the time to write about the books I'd finished, I just read more books! Also, I read a lot over the Easter break, including some shorter books and a very binge-able series.

Also read: Two-Step and Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet, Hooked by Cathy Yardley, “Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” and “All the Different Shades of Blue” by W.R. Gingell, and “Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells.

Reread: A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer.

Total: nineteen novels (including two audiobooks and one reread), one novella collection, two novellas, two novelettes and one short story.

Cover thoughts: Bellewether’s blue cover is (unsurprisingly) my favourite. I also really like The Ghosts of Sherwood. 

Still reading: A Portrait of Loyalty by Roseanna M. White and Playing Hearts by W.R. Gingell.

Next up: Torch by R.J. Anderson.

My full reviews are on Dreamwidth and LibraryThing.

*

The Rose Code by Kate Quinn (narrated by Saskia Maarleveld): Historical mystery about three young women who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII.

My favourite out of the books I’ve read so far this year. Most of the narrative is set during the war, but interspersed with sections set in 1947 -- when Beth, in a sanitarium after a breakdown, has sent her two estranged friends a coded message begging for help. I loved this, but at times found it stressful and heartbreaking! The writing is so lively and effective and emotional. 4½ ★

 *

Castle Charming by Tansy Raynor Roberts: Fairytale retellings, collection of novellas.

A very entertaining and a somewhat different take on fairytales, focusing on the reporters, Royal Hounds and royalty at Castle Charming. Some of the character dynamics felt similar to those in Roberts’ Unreal Alchemy although I didn’t feel quite as attached to these characters. I’ll read the sequel. 3 ★ 

*

Bellewether by Susanna Kearsley: Historical and contemporary fiction, set in Long Island during the so-called Seven Years War in 1759 and the present day.

Alternates between a curator overseeing turning a house in a museum and some of the house’s previous occupants, including a French-Canadian Lieutenant awaiting hostage exchange. Despite the various tensions the characters face, there’s something slow and ultimately gentle about this story. Which is lovely --  I enjoyed the picturesque sense of place and astute observations of people -- but it is less dramatic than I was expecting. 3½ ★

*

Happy Trail by Daisy Prescott: Contemporary romance, set on the Appalachian Trail.

A park ranger and a hiker shelter together during a storm. I was fascinated by the insight into hiking the Appalachian Trail and enjoyed some of the characters’ interactions, although I thought the way the romance unfolded was somewhat anticlimactic. Not always what I wanted, but I don't regret reading it.

*

Legacy by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary enemies-to-roommates-to-lovers.

Wes offers to move in with his late-best friend’s girlfriend to help her out financially. This sort of hurt/comfort appeals to me. I liked how seriously this story takes Corinne’s messy, consuming grief. I don’t really want to spend any more time with the characters, but I was very invested in seeing them reach a better place in their lives.

Two-Step by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between an actress and a dance instructor. I enjoyed reading this. I particularly enjoyed how Beau helps Iris with her anxiety about dancing and with her controlling mother/manager. He’s very supportive and understanding! But I finished this with a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction -- Iris needed more opportunity to support Beau in turn.

Someone Like Me by Stephanie Fournet: Contemporary romance between a yoga instructor and her new neighbour, who has just got out of prison.

This one didn’t particularly appeal to me. Although interesting to see the experiences of someone recently released from prison, the romance developed too quickly.

(No, I didn’t read all three of these back-to-back!)

*

Hooked by Cathy Yardley: Contemporary fandom-y romance novella, set near Seattle. Takes place during Level Up and is about two of Tessa’s colleagues.

I enjoyed the characters' interactions and would have liked this more if it hadn't felt rushed. 

*

The Ghosts of Sherwood by Carrie Vaughn: Historical Robin Hood retelling, novella.

Exactly what I wanted! It alternates between Robin and Marian’s eldest daughter, Mary, and Marian herself. I liked seeing Robin and Marian as a long-married couple, who still love each other and still have disagreements. And the dynamic between their children gave me a zing of recognition, reminding me of my siblings. 3½ ★

*

The City Between by W.R. Gingell: Australian YA urban fantasy (murder) mysteries. Set in Hobart.

I ended up enjoying this series so much more than I’d expected to!

Between Jobs: After a neighbour is murdered, our seventeen-year-old orphaned narrator acquires some unexpected housemates -- two fae, one vampire. Once I got past the opening, with its tales of murder, the worldbuilding intrigued me. I still wasn’t sure what I thought about her housemates or the fact that they call her “Pet”, but was willing to reserve judgement until I’d read more. 3 ★

Between Shifts: About supermarket shifts and shapeshifters. Pet and JinYeong go undercover at the local grocery store. This is a reasonable murder mystery. I was initially disappointed with how something played out (but in retrospect can see how that was actually a positive development for Pet). It ended on a cliffhanger, so I was extra motivated to start the next book. 2½ ★

Between Floors: This is where the series took off, because things suddenly get personal! One of her fae housemates has been captured and the closest any of them get to finding Athelas is Pet contacting him in her dreams.This raises a lot of interesting questions, not just about Pet’s abilities, but about her relationship with her housemates. How much does she trust them and how much do they value Pet’s personhood? 3½ ★

Between Frames: Pet’s housemates are hired to investigate a series of fae deaths around Hobart, which involves scrutinising some baffling security footage.  Another solid murder mystery.  The final pages felt like one step forward, two steps back, but yet again, in retrospect, this was a positive development. I’m glad I could dive immediately into the next book. 3 ★

Between Homes: Pet has moved in with some friends. Hurray for Pet having friends! I think this was the point where I started to feel comfortable with Pet calling herself Pet -- when it's the name used by people she likes and trusts and who don’t view her as a pet at all. 3½ ★

“Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears” (novelette): An awesome title and an entertaining opportunity to see Pet from someone else’s perspective -- moreover, someone who doesn’t know her or what she’s capable of. 3 ★

Between Walls: Pet’s friend Morgana is worried about an online friends and asks Pet and co to investigate his disappearance. Along the way, they discover that there are human groups who actually know a lot about Behindkind. I am also becoming increasingly entertained by the Korean vampire. 3 ★

“All the Different Shades of Blue” (novelette): A great cover and it explains who that guy at the cafe is, but otherwise didn’t really do anything Cloudy with a Chance of Dropbears hadn’t already done -- ie., show us Pet from someone else’s perspective. Most of the time, I have enjoyed this series all the more for binging it, but I suspect this particular story would have worked better if I had read it after a period of absence. 2½ ★

Between Cases:  My favourite of these have been the ones where things get personal, and this involves a lot of revelations about who Pet is -- from a fae perspective -- and why her parents were murdered. I enjoyed this one a lot. 3½ ★

*

The Duke of Olympia Meets His Match by Juliana Gray: Historical espionage romance novella, set in 1893 onboard an ocean liner travelling to England. Apparently not the Duke’s first appearance in Gray’s fiction.

I liked the idea here much better than the execution. I liked Penelope, a fifty-year-old widow dependent upon her position as a governess, and I enjoyed her interactions with the older Duke of Olympia. But parts of the spy plot were rushed or confusing, and the resolution was almost-but-not-entirely satisfying. 2½ ★

*

A Vow So Bold and Deadly by Brigid Kemmerer: Fantasy. Follows on from the fairytale-retelling A Curse So Dark and Lonely and its sequel, A Heart So Fierce and Broken.

If this is meant as a conclusion to a trilogy, then the ending was a bit too anticlimactic, with a few too many loose ends, to be really satisfying. But I reached the end feeling positive about the story, because I really enjoyed the characters’ interactions. All of the protagonists have to deal with conflict in relationships. I loved the times when they each navigate these conflicts by acting fairly and communicating honestly, when doing so is often difficult and complicated. That’s realistic and satisfying. 3½ ★

*

“Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” by Martha Wells:  Science-fiction short story. Part of The Murderbot Diaries series, set after Exit Strategy.

Very, very short but I really liked seeing things from Dr Ayda Mensah’s (third person) perspective. 3½ ★

*

Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace: Historical coming-of-age fiction, set in Minnesota in 1912-3.

I am very glad to finally have read this! It’s delightful, a fascinating insight into community life in a Minnesotan town, and it effectively captures the emotional experience of navigating a period of transition. After high school, Emily’s friends  leave for college, but Emily has to find her own path to purposefully fill her time, build connections and further her education. 4 ★

*

On Wings of Devotion by Roseanna M. White (narrated by Susan Lyons): Romantic historical mystery, set in London during 1918. Christian fiction. Features characters from The Number of Love.

Arabelle Denler is a nurse working in a London hospital; Phillip Camden is an airman now working for British Intelligence. I enjoyed their interactions, especially once they start to get to know each other. I didn’t like the antagonist’s contribution to this narrative -- between the dangers of wartime and the protagonists’ respective issues, there’s enough tension without her. But what I enjoyed about this story outweighed what I didn’t. 3½ ★

*

Our Darkest Night by Jennifer Robson: Historical fiction set during the Nazi occupation of Italy in WWII.

Nina, a young Jewish woman from Venice, goes into hiding by pretending she’s married to Nico, a Catholic farmer. Robson’s strength lies in pairing details of daily life with likeable characters, realistic dialogue and a sweet romance. I read this quickly and eagerly. But if the characters had been more nuanced, more complex, or if their emotions had been conveyed more vividly, I likely would have found reading this a more emotional experience. 3½ ★

[jalapeno-princess]

Bad For You Chapter 1

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (in future chapters), smut(maybe in a future chapter I’m still debating how I feel about that)

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Being a senior in college with less than two semesters in your entire educational career, you try your best not to get stuck in situations that will bring you any kind of stress. Unlike most of your classmates, you never searched for entertainment and fun in the college nightlife; partying, clubbing, getting drunk, high and hooking up with random strangers. You believed in working towards what will benefit you in the future. One day, your English professor gives you the opportunity of a lifetime; to pass his class without having to do anything at all. Most students would jump at his offer without hesitation. But what happens when what he’s asking of you just so happens to be the last thing you would ever find yourself wanting to do? Tutoring the same person you vowed never to get involved with? Mark Tuan was bad news and you’ve sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t interact with him under any circumstances. However, the offer is too good to refuse, but will it really be worth it in the end?

A/N: Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my new series and I already have an idea of how I’m going to go about with this story I hope everything works out the way I want it to. I’m expecting to have about 5-6 chapters, but then again I never go through with what I plan. This first chapter is just an introduction as to how the main characters meet and so it might be kind of boring and more of a filler chapter but I’m sure the next one will be more interesting. Please enjoy!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The sound of a clock ticking during a very important exam that was worth more than half of your grade had to be one of the most annoying and infuriating noises in the entire world; you were sure of it. 

That damn clock on the wall mocked you—with each click, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to scream out in frustration and cause every one of your classmates to turn and look at you as if you were a wild animal. You sure felt like one. 

It was as though every time the big hand moved, you’d forget one important piece of information that you studied multiple hours for in order to memorize. No matter how many all-nighters you pulled in the last week, all the notes that you took and repeatedly looked over—nothing seemed to be clicking. 

Your mind was drawing a blank and it was really upsetting you. Ever since you were a little girl, you ate, breathed and slept your education. All you ever wanted was to succeed and do well in school. 

It didn’t help that your parents put this immense pressure on you to succeed—being the youngest and only daughter out of four children led your parents in to expecting a lot more out of you than they did with your three older brothers. They were also extremely overprotective when it came to you. 

Your brothers could go out and do whatever it was that they wanted; attend all these college frat parties, go to numerous bars only to get drunk off their asses and have your parents go and pick them up, drive all around Los Angeles and even leaving your sunny state of California to travel around cities like Las Vegas, Chicago and even New York. Hell, you couldn’t even cross the street by yourself let alone do anything most people would consider fun and exciting. 

Everyone who knew of your existence considered you to be a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet. You found fun in reading and watching documentaries about murderous affairs. Most people your age were constantly partying, getting drunk, high or both. You never understood why anyone would waste their time and money on unnecessary substances such as alcohol and drugs, but you were never one to judge. 

Every now and then, your professor would inform the class how much time everyone had left to complete the exam. To everyone’s dismay, the door was slammed open; all eyes turned towards the front of the room—curious about who just entered. As soon as your gaze landed on him, you rolled your eyes in irritation. 

“Professor Lee, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—“

“I don’t want to hear it Mr.Tuan, no excuses. You have less than twenty minutes to complete your exam. There’s no retakes, so instead of trying to get out of this one, I’d suggest you take out a pen, piece of paper and start writing.” 

The boy in question made his way towards where you were sitting and gave you a smirk before sitting right behind you. Anyone and everyone who knew Mark was well aware as to why he was tardy. His tousled hair and swollen lips gave it away; it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was up to. 

You couldn’t care less about what he did; you hardly even knew the guy, so whatever he would do in his free time didn’t matter to you. As you began to finish up on your last few questions, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Pssst. Y/n.” 

Ignore him and he’ll leave you alone y/n. 

Every time Mark would try and get your attention, whether it was to borrow a pencil or to coerce you in to giving him the answers on one of your assignments, you’d find yourself groaning in frustration. It’s as though he got a rise out of getting under your skin. 

In the three months that you’ve had him in your English 345 class, you observed the fact that he never seemed to bother any of your other classmates except you. He had classmates sitting on either side of him, yet he never once spoke to them. 

You’ve known Mark since middle school; he was one year older than you and he lived down your road, but the two of you never really interacted with one another. You came from two different social groups; his group of friends were very well known throughout your entire campus. 

All seven members were apart of a sports team and they had to be the most attractive guys at your university. They were also notorious for being quite the players; none of them were in stable relationships. 

Mark and his friends were known to hook up with random girls whose names they’d never end up learning and none of them slept with the same person twice. That’s just who they were. 

Every Friday night, they’d throw a party at one of their apartments, one of the sorority houses or they’d rent out a hotel room. You made a pact with yourself to never get involved with any one of them. The last thing you needed was to get your heartbroken by an asshole who could give less of a shit about you. 

You refused to allow any one of his friends; Mark in particular, take advantage of your kind hearted and gentle personality. As much as you wish you could be a cold-hearted, selfish person; especially because so many people have done you wrong in the twenty-two years of your existence, you could never hurt anyone or do anyone wrong the way they would so easily do to you. It just never felt right. 

However, Mark Tuan was someone you wouldn’t care about hurting. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself and his atrocious group of friends; so you never allowed him to irritate you for longer than a few minutes. Luckily, he never took things further than a couple of snarky comments and throwing paper airplanes at you every now and then, but you could do without all of his childish antics. 

Sometimes, you wondered why he chose you of all people to pick on and disturb. Maybe it’s because you were one of the only people he’s known since childhood, or because everyone was well aware of your friendly and welcoming personality. You were also considered the teacher’s pet for most of your professors. 

A few of them; your biology, calculus—and even your English professor for this class had asked you to be their teacher’s assistant because they were confident they could trust in you to help them with their classes. Unfortunately, you had to decline. 

With having a full-time job and taking on five classes, there was so much on your plate already and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give them the support and time they needed from their assistants. You had only three questions left to answer and you were more than happy to finally finish the test. 

The word exhausted wasn’t even enough to describe just how tired you were. You worked a ten hour shift yesterday because two of your co-workers called in sick and you didn’t have the courage to tell your boss that you were tired from pulling an all-nighter the day before. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment and fall asleep for the rest of the week. The constant tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts and for a second, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of an exam. A groan of disbelief was at the tip of your tongue; who did he think he was coming in to class just minutes before it ended, expecting you to help him because it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Y/n, what did you get for number 5? Hey—pssst—y/n—“ 

You continued to scribble down a few more sentences on the last question; wanting nothing more than to get out of the lecture hall but Mark adamantly had other plans. 

“Come on, please? I don’t know how to answer this—“

“Mark, this is an exam. I can’t help you—“

“Just this one time. I promise. I’m already doing bad in this class. I can’t afford to fail—“

“Well that’s not my problem Mark. You need to learn how to manage your priorities better—“

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“ 

Right as you were about to retaliate and make a comment about his fuckboy lifestyle, a new presence joined the two of you and you felt yourself tense up at his words. 

“Mr.Tuan, Miss y/l/n, is there a problem here?” 

You shook your head in disagreement and mentally cursed the older boy for putting you in this situation. Not once in your entire educational career have you ever been called out by one of your teachers for not doing what you were supposed to and that was because you never failed to accomplish whatever it was that you were expected to do. There was no way you would let Mark Tuan out of all people get in the way of the reputation you’ve worked so hard to maintain as one of the top students at your university.

“No problem here sir, I was just asking y/n to borrow an eraser.”

Absentmindedly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how easily the lie fell from his lips. This happened to be the first class you had him in, but you had a huge feeling he was like this whenever there was something he desired. Whether it was school related, or a way to soothe his carnal urges, Mark would do whatever in his power to get whatever or whoever it was that he wanted. 

It was adamant that he wasn’t going to do well on this test no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t strike you as someone who studied, nor did he seem like he cared about his education in the first place. None of his friends did. College was more about the night life experience; the alcohol, constant partying, drugs, sex—school was the last of any of their worries and you believed that one day, it would all come back to bite them all in the ass. 

“Hm, is that so? Well then, please return back to your exams and if you don’t mind staying back, I’d like to talk to the both of you about something.”

If looks could kill, Mark would be six feet underground with the glare you were now sending him. The universe was not on your side at all today. Not only did the coffee shop get your order wrong, but your botany professor assigned you a group project you weren’t at all excited for and now—you were in trouble for something that wasn’t even your fault. 

To both his and your surprise, you turned around and flipped Mark off. You hated the fact that his stupidity and ignorance was causing you to do all of these spiteful actions that you have never once done to anyone else. He was just that big of a narcissistic asshole and with the way he smirked at you, it was all the more evident that he was enjoying himself. 

Mark got in trouble many times in class—or so you’ve heard people talk about. Everyone talked about him; no matter who it was, every single student on your campus knew of him. Some had nothing but envy and respect towards him and others never understood what was so good about him that the boys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be under him. 

You were one of the latter; other than his devastatingly handsome looks and how much of an amazing volleyball player he was, Mark didn’t have anything else going for him. He was the definition of a prick; he was cocky and treated people like shit. He also had a brain the size of a peanut which came as a shock seeing as how his younger brother Joey graduated over a year ago and had his bachelor’s degree in pharmaceutical engineering.

In fact, the entire Tuan family seemingly had great heads on their shoulders. Mark’s father owned one of the highest ranking tech companies in all of California. His mom and his oldest sister were realtors. You understood that his wealth and the success of his family were the only reasons why he wasn’t expelled from school. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked out as soon as their g.p.a dropped below 2.0 like Mark’s was rumored to be. 

“Good going dickhead.” 

He cheekily winked at you before turning his attention back to his exam. You were going to make his life a living hell for what he put you through. Less than ten minutes later, your professor let the entire class know that time was up and one by one, your classmates began exiting the room. You could feel your blood pressure and anxiety levels rising at the thought of getting detention for Mark’s unintelligent disruption. 

As soon as the last person left, you began to come up with what you were going to tell your teacher. You were willing to admit the fact that Mark was trying to cheat and get some answers from you. It wasn’t as though anything bad would happen to him anyway. 

He’d get away with trying to get you to give him answers and maybe even torment you for throwing him under the bus. Oh God, what did you get yourself in to? Your professor sat on his desk as he motioned for the two of you to walk towards him. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips and you were sure you could pass out because of how nervous you were. Even if you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, you were still freaking out about the consequences that came with helping someone on a test. 

“Y/n, I just want to start off by saying you’re not in trouble. So, there’s nothing you need to worry about. However, it has come to my attention that you are looking towards getting an internship at the state capital. You’re majoring in law right? Well, I have a proposition for you, and I know—you might not like this and I’m sorry for asking you to do me such a huge favor like this. I’m sure you’re already busy as it is, but—“ He didn’t even have to ask just yet, you already had a feeling that his favor had to do with the remarkably inadequate boy on the right of you. 

“Could you tutor Mark for me? Well, not just for me. His professors sent me emails about what they can do to help him.” 

He turned over to Mark and released a soft sigh. You felt as though you were going to throw up. Tutor Mark? Seriously? You would rather rip out your eyelashes one by one. There was no way you would do such a thing. Sure, you were willing to stay after class and help your professors grade papers or you could come up with lesson plans in order to cut down the amount of work they had to do, but there was no way in hell you were going to do anything with or for Mark. 

“I don’t like talking negatively about students. I know you’re a smart kid Mark. I acknowledge the fact that you do try; you’re such a great writer, but you don’t put your heart or mind in to anything beneficial. There’s honestly nothing else I can say or do to get you to try harder. You have so much potential, but you fail to use any of it. You could go far in life Mark, but you choose paths that will bring you nothing but destruction. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still so young and I’m sure you want to live your life to the fullest. But sometimes, you need to give up any kind of toxicity that will only bring you down. Y/n—a few other professors and I are willing to write you multiple letters of recommendation and I’m going to give you an immediate A for this class. You don’t have to worry about any other exams or assignments. Most of your time will be taken up trying to help assist Mark. I still expect you to listen in on our lectures just so you can understand and learn the course material, but you don’t have to worry about studying for any tests. I trust that you would pass all of them nonetheless. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you to help another student and please don’t feel like you have to do this. But just know that I and all your other professors would be more than grateful if you do decide to go along with my offer. I’ll give you a week to think about it. You may go now.” 

All the blood in your body immediately began to rush to your head. Everything your professor explained to you went through one ear and out the other. You were being offered to pass the class with flying colors without having to worry about completing any assignments or taking quizzes—anyone in their right minds would willingly accept his proposition. It was the easiest A you could ever receive, yet in order to access it, you would have to go against everything you’ve set your mind to. 

All the pacts you’ve made with yourself regarding Mark or any of his inconsiderate group of friends, were you really going to allow yourself to get involved with someone notorious for manipulating and taking advantage of other individuals without a care in the world? Sure, you wouldn’t have to worry about one of your classes and you’d have more time to focus on your more difficult subjects, but it would be at the cost of your morals and beliefs. 

Mark Tuan was no good—even if it was only tutoring, you had a bad feeling in your gut that he would end up hurting you one way or another. You didn’t consider yourself to be the kind of girl Mark would mess around with or find attractive in any way, but then again—it didn’t matter what the person looked like or what their personality was like. 

Everyone was just another body added to his count of poor unfortunate souls who were tricked in to finding their way in to bed with him. Once your professor excused you, you practically ran out of the building. Knowing that you were his only option, you were well aware that Mark would probably look for you and try to coerce you in to accepting the offer. If that did end up happening, you would stand your ground. 

You weren’t afraid of Mark, nor did you consider him all that intimidating like everyone on campus did. He wasn’t going to get to you that easily, no matter how hard he would put in an effort to. Your professor gave you a week to think about it and there was nothing your school’s notorious bad boy could say or do to influence you to agree in helping him. As you were right about to unlock your car door, you heard feet running in the distance. It didn’t take a genius to know just who the footsteps belonged to. Hell, you picked up your pace in order to avoid him. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

If only you could continue your cold facade; there was a voice telling you to jump in your car and leave without giving him the time of day. You would just deal with him tomorrow. But  you knew being brash wasn’t in your nature—you could never be mean to anyone. Even people like Mark who obviously deserved it. 

There was no way you’d forgive yourself for showing him hostility; you’d only be sinking to his level. You released a frustrated groan—did he not even take a second to think about how much of an inconvenience he was right now? First, he bothered you during a very important exam, then he got you involved in catching the unwanted attention of your professor and now you’re being asked to tutor him. 

Mark Tuan was the devil in human form, he had to be. There was no other plausible explanation as to why he is the conniving asshole you’ve grown accustomed to interact with in the last few months. It’s as if he had vengeance against you. Why else would he include you in his toxic way of going through school? You turned around to face him and crossed your arms in irritation. Right after he caught up to you, he placed both hands on his knees as if he was trying to catch his breath. 

“What? Did you sprint here?”

“Obviously. I had a feeling there was a chance you’d want to talk to me about the deal our professor offered me, but I don’t have the energy to listen to you talk me in to doing so—“

“Come on y/n, you act like tutoring me is the worst thing on this entire earth—“

“Because it is. Look, I have a week to think about this okay? So if I were you, I’d watch how you act towards me and how you talk to me. Whether or not you graduate next spring is all on me. I’m going to warn you right now, nothing you can say or do will have an effect on my decision. If I decide to tutor you, it’s because I want to. Oh, and don’t think it’s because I don’t want to do work or tests. If anything, I would rather complete assignments and study for exams. The option he gave me isn’t an easy way out, so I don’t want you spreading bullshit lies about me just to make me look bad. If I say no, there’s no trying to get me to say yes. Am I clear?” 

This was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark look worried in the many years that you’ve known him for. Almost everyone in his life, teachers, professors, fellow classmates, his friends and even some of his family members—they willingly gave him whatever it was that he asked for. You never understood why; why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t all that muscular or buff. In fact, you’d mentally call him a limp noodle whenever he’d get on your nerves because he was quite the skinny guy. 

But he’s always been like that. Mark was like a chihuahua; he was all bark and no bite. Maybe he used his family’s power and wealth against others, or maybe he would promise financial or social gain to make others succumb to his wishes. Whatever it was—you needed him to know that it wouldn’t work on you. It was obvious that no one has ever talked to Mark the way you currently were just by the way he looked at you in shock. 

You were a force to be reckoned with. If Mark considered you to be a soft spoken, quiet pushover, then boy—did he have something coming for him. He wasn’t wrong to think like that; you were a genuinely kind-hearted soul. However, that was to those who deserved it. Mark wasn’t on that list, nor would he ever make it there. Ever.

“Fine. Just—please think about it? No funny business, I promise. I just—I want to know. Be honest with me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to cause you so much anguish and distress? Is it something I said? Did? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Sincerely. I’m not saying that in order to win brownie points or to get on your good side, I mean it. You are the only person on this entire campus who seems to take a disliking to me and I want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

As soon as the last word of apology fell from his lips, you could feel your throat getting choked up. You wanted to believe he was trying to come up with ways to make you feel bad for him; to get you to really think about helping him out. But there was no malice in his speech—his eyes looked so sincere. If he was lying, then damn—he deserved a fucking Oscar. 

Deep down in your heart though, you knew he was being serious. Why were you now feeling bad that you were vehemently treating him like the scum under your toes? Obviously, you weren’t going to grovel at his feet the way most of the girls at your university did—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be civil with him. 

Mark hasn’t cared about his attendance or grade in this class since the beginning of the semester—so it really boggled your mind as to why he was trying to be involved in his education right now. That wasn’t your business to have knowledge of. You and Mark weren’t friends. You’d probably never ever be friends, so the reasoning for his sudden interest in putting his focus towards his education wasn’t your problem to deal with. 

You brought your vision to the ground; your converse seemed like the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. There was no way you could look at him, you were sure you’d give him your answer if you were to look at him and see how distraught he was from your hostility. You opened the back seat of your car and threw in your bag and your books before making your way to the front seat. 

Thankfully, Mark had a conscience and moved out of the way. He probably didn’t want to get even more so on your nerves and you appreciated his new timid nature. 

Mark Tuan had finally met his match. 

Once you pulled out of the stall, you rolled down your window and took in a deep breath—not sure if you were making the right decision as the words fell off your tongue; but it didn’t matter anymore. 

“Meet me tomorrow in the library at three. Don’t be late or you can forget about having me as a tutor. Oh, and I don’t hate you. But don’t think so highly of yourself, I don’t think all that highly of you either.” 

The soft smile that was now beaming on his face pulled on your heartstrings and soon you felt a warm sensation in your chest—wait. What? Oh God—no. No, no, no. What have you done? 

You just sold your soul to the devil.

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Gotal

The Gotal species evolved on Antar 4, the mineral-rich fourth moon of the gas giant Antar in the Prindaar system. As the moon of a gas giant, Antar 4 was a world with a complex day/night cycle. Sometimes, one side of Antar 4 would be illuminated by the sun Prindaar, while the other received almost the same amount of light from the highly reflective surface of the gas giant Antar. At other times, Antar would block all sunlight to both hemispheres. As light was not always available there, Antarian animal life could not rely on sight as a primary sense. To compensate for this, the ancestors of the Gotals evolved cranial horns as receptors to sense electromagnetism and other energy emissions.

Although they were easily disoriented around devices that produced high levels of electromagnetic interference, the Gotals managed to develop quite sophisticated levels of technology. Using chemical reactions where other species would use electronics, the Gotals managed to colonize four of Antar's other five moons, and set up mining operations on the fifth, even before Galactic Republic explorers contacted them.

The Gotals joined the Galactic Republic between 25,000 and 22,000 BBY, becoming one of the first species to send representatives to its newly formed Galactic Senate. Kith Kark, a Jedi killed during the Freedon Nadd Uprising, is the earliest known Gotal to make his mark on galactic history. Goethar Kleej and his son Aubin came to prominence during the Mandalorian Wars a few decades later as swoop-duelists on the space station Jervo's World.

In later centuries, one of their most notable contributions to Republic society was the Antarian Rangers, founded in 620 BBY to assist the Jedi. Co-founded by the Human Jedi Master Marus Timpel and the Gotal businessman Kaskutal, this organization grew to become a major non-Jedi paramilitary auxiliary, working alongside the Jedi Order to protect the Galactic Republic.

In the Republic's final years, however, the relationship between the Gotals and the rest of the galaxy became increasingly strained. The Duinuogwuin-Gotal conflict was a short, but intense struggle which required the intervention of the Jedi Masters Jorus C'baoth and Tra's M'ins to bring to an end. Tensions between the Gotals and the rest of the galaxy continued over the next decade, however.

During the Separatist Crisis of 22 BBY, many Gotals supported the Gotal Assembly for Separation, or its more violent splinter group the Roshu Sune. After Roshu Sune terrorists set off bombs in Antarian Ranger chapterhouses, the Jedi and their Antarian Ranger allies invaded Antar 4 in retaliation. During the Battle of Antar 4, the Jedi and the Antarian Rangers took heavy casualties. They used electromagnetic pulse weapons in desperation, even though such weapons caused immense pain and disorientation for civilian Gotals caught in the crossfire. The Jedi response turned the Gotals, and the people of thousands of other worlds, against the Republic. After the battle, many Gotal refugees fled to Atzerri, leading to the Gotal hostage standoff. During this crisis, the Roshu Sune militants captured a commuter hopper that had 25 passengers, one of whom was Nathanjo Nirrelz. A taskforce of Jedi led by Sarrissa Jeng attempted to negotiate with the hijackers, but when blasterfire spooked the militants, they executed some of their hostages. The Jedi forced their way into the hopper and killed the Gotal militants. Gotal Foreign Affairs Commune leader Shagrad Loset castigated the Jedi for their "lightsaber diplomacy," asserting that the Gotals should have been allowed to solve the crisis themselves. Although a poll conducted by HoloNet News showed that a majority of respondents believed that violence was inevitable in the crisis, the events provided the impetus for the Clone Wars that engulfed the galaxy for the next few years. During the Clone Wars, Antar 4 was conquered by the Confederacy of Independent Systems. The Gotals did not benefit from the war, and were greatly impoverished during the Confederate occupation. Around this time, a Gotal team was entered in the Cularin Classic swoop race on the planet Cularin and was represented by the racer Arum Oru.

At the war's end, the Gotals became subjects of the Galactic Empire. The Imperial military refused to let Gotals serve in the military, believing they were too apt to empathize with their enemies. Only a minority of Gotals were willing to work with the Empire in any case, since their empathic sense led them to distrust the promises of Imperial diplomats.

During the time of the New Republic, Gotals were one of the nonhuman races targeted in Warlord Zsinj's plot to destabilize the New Republic. The operation was able to brainwash certain individuals to attempt to assassinate major leaders in the New Republic. Three of the targets included Wedge Antilles, Admiral Ackbar, and Mon Mothma, whose intended assassin was Tolokai, her trusted Gotal bodyguard. The intent of the operation was to breed distrust between Humans and prominent nonhuman races of the New Republic. The operation was ultimately foiled. By 9 ABY, the New Republic had liberated their homeworld, together with the rest of the Inner Rim Territories. At the end of the Yuuzhan Vong War, Antar 4 became a part of the Galactic Alliance. Gotal senator Ta'laam Ranth served on the Alliance's High Council as Minister of Justice. Circa 25 ABY, Antar 4's population was between one and ten billion. During the Yuuzhan Vong War, the Antar system was attacked by the Yuuzhan Vong. At some point during the New Republic's existence, the Shi'ido anthropologist Mammon Hoole included an entry on the Gotals in his publication The Essential Guide to Alien Species.

In 130 ABY, at least two Gotals were involved with the new Sith Order: an unnamed Sith who took part in the Massacre at Ossus, and the spy and information broker Attatag Gosem. By 137 ABY, the Antar system fell within territory controlled by Darth Krayt as part of his Sith Empire, and Gotals were still active in the galactic community.

In addition to sensing energy emissions in their environment and the presence of their prey animals, Gotals used their cones to monitor subtle changes in one another's electromagnetic auras. This ability to quickly and easily judge another Gotal's emotional state was fundamental to their culture. For example, Gotals were able to avoid angry members of their species, share in the joy of happy ones, and seek out depressed ones to cheer them up. Gotal communities were considered among the most harmonious civilizations in the galaxy. They had difficulty interpreting the emotions of other alien species, however, often mistaking basic emotions such as affection or anger for extremes such as love and murderous intent. Sufficient exposure to the galactic community could help them overcome this, however.

Gotals formed intense bonds with one another upon first meeting, and love at first "sight" was the norm among Gotals, whose empathic nature made the elaborate courtship rituals of other sentients unnecessary. Gotal would mate for life, and would bear young as soon as their lifestyles permitted it. Gotals only spoke to each other to relay abstract information, since they had no need to vocally express their emotions.

Young Gotals often had trouble assimilating the information arriving from their cones, and were in a constant state of agitated confusion until they learned to filter unwanted signals after about one standard year. Even then, it took them until the age of twelve to attain emotional maturity, and they could sometimes be nearly psychotic until then. Despite this, Gotal parents were devoted to their children. Mature Gotals were generally calm and peaceful individuals.

Gotal sensory cones allowed them to keep their emotions to themselves. They tended to keep a calm and restrained demeanor when dealing with others, speaking of emotions only abstractly. This led some non-Gotals to assume the species lacked emotion entirely, and many species to be uncomfortable around and mistrustful of Gotals. Some felt that they were at a disadvantage when dealing with Gotals and their sensitive head cones, and other, more superstitious species, were wary of what they saw as the Gotals' supernatural powers. Nevertheless, the quirks of Gotals made them effective diplomats, mediators, businesspeople, and gamblers. Unless they sensed evil intentions, Gotals were generally diplomatic and polite when interacting with members of other species.

The ruthless Imperial era financier Sarlim Gastess was among the few Gotals whose cones were non-functional. Perhaps because of his inability to sense emotions, this "blind" Gotal was a fearsome psychopath by his people's standards.

Some Gotals became romantically attached to non-Gotals, but they only seemed to be sexually attracted to other creatures with cones or horns on their heads.

Gotals possess cranial horns as receptors to sense electromagnetism and other energy emissions. These nerve-ending filled cones could sense the natural electromagnetic fields produced by Antar, Prindaar, and Antar 4's magnetite-rich crust, allowing the species to operate even in total darkness. Their senses also picked up the electromagnetic auras from other life forms. Gotal hunters could sense their quarry from up to ten kilometers away, and could track herds of quivry for weeks. While hunting, a Gotal could determine the amount, species type, and level of sickness of animals by relying on their cones alone. When close to their target, they could ascertain information on its mood, awareness, and state of mind. As such, Gotals numbered among the most sought-after hunters in the galaxy.

Gotal cones could detect another being's emotional state and intentions. Gotal horns were even sensitive enough to pick up such indistinct signals as neutrino emissions. Electronic devices could also be sensed by Gotals: in fact, most droids gave off enough electromagnetic emissions to at least annoy a Gotal, and at worst to seriously disorient the horned beings. Consequently, the species was notoriously distrustful of droids. Gotals relied heavily on their cones, with their eyesight and hearing being quite weak, and their sense of smell almost completely absent.

At least some Gotals were able to sense the Force with their cones. Nevertheless, standard reference works such as the Catalog of Intelligent Life in the Galaxy were silent on the subject, and the writings of Mammon Hoole described this as a rumor which had "yet to be proven." Other sources indicated that both the Jedi Order and the Galactic Empire had conducted inconclusive research which attempted to train Gotals to sense the Force. The records of the Gotals themselves were split on the issue. Those sources which did describe Gotals sensing the Force varied in their descriptions. Some sources described it as an intense, overwhelming sensation, while others treated it as a mere "indistinct buzzing." At least one Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker, believed that sensing the Force could cause Gotals headaches. Any ability to sense the use of the Force with their cones did not hinder Gotals who were Force-sensitive in the conventional sense from learning to use the Force, however.

Gotals had flat, elongated faces with reddish, heavy-lidded eyes, small, flat noses, and a wide, downturned mouth full of blunt, yellow or white teeth. Their eyes varied in color, with individuals sporting shades of red, orange, yellow, gray, green, and black. Coarse, shaggy fur covered most of their bodies with the exception of the face, chest, and abdomen. Gotals were classified as mammals. Their overall body plan was humanoid, with proportions generally similar to Humans. Some Gotals had four fingers and a thumb with short, conical claws on each digit;[3] others had only four or three digits per limb with much longer claws making up a large portion of each finger. Their skin color varied from gray-brown to black, and their fur came in white or shades of brown or gray. While male Gotals typically had a thick fringe of hair around their cheeks and chins, this was absent in female Gotals. Gotals shed their fur and most Gotals learned to control this process. Under extreme stress or nerves, however—as when surprised or frightened—Gotals could lose control of this process and begin shedding large clumps of fur. Gotals' natural body odor was similar to the smell of mildew and old sweat. Gotals were resistant to the venom produced by members of the Killik species.

A typical Gotal stands at 1.8 meters or 5.9 feet tall and weighs 70 kilograms or 154 pounds.

Gotal age at the following stages: 1 - 9 Child 10 - 12 Young Adult 13 - 40 Adult 41 - 60 Middle Age 61 - 75 Old

Examples of Names: Abav Ghart, Glott, Kith Kark, Lishma, Mnor Nha, Pari Notgoth, Tolokai, To-yel.

Languages: Gotals speak Basic and Gotal. However, the form of Basic they speak is devoid of emotional context. The Gotal language is impossible for other Species to learn, because so much of it relies on feedback relayed through their head cones.

[carmichealroyals]

CHARACTER INSPIRATION // C H A L L E N G E

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

I was tagged by this by so many lovely pals -- @thelockwoodroyals, @wa-royal-tea AND @ourwillowcreekroyals !!! I only feel bad that it took me so long but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be while taking time to fiddle with Photoshop more (thank you @royaldevilliers for answering my silly questions). Below the cut are the descriptions for the personality types and tropes for each of the main three kids of this next generation! 

Not sure who’s done this yet, so if you see this and you want to do it, this is me telling you to do it!

CHARLOTTE:

The Protagonist:  Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.

Spirited Young Lady:  She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end.

Deadpan Snarker: A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves.

Politically Active Princess:  The Politically Active Princess is a princess that takes active interest in and plays an active role in politics. Naive courtiers and commoners alike might view her only as a figurehead, but in truth, she discreetly uses her position and guile in order to achieve her ends. Skilled in diplomacy, she will usually attempt to solve conflicts via conversation or bargaining, rather than combat. Her defining trait is her involvement in politics or diplomatic matters, without letting herself serve only as a bargaining chip.

Inspired by: Mia Thermopolis (The Princess Diaries); Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Vex’ahlia (Critical Role); Jenny Lee (Call the Midwife)

PETER: 

The Architect:  It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

The Dog Bites Back:  Unlike the Bastard Understudy and The Starscream, this character attacks as a crime of opportunity. There is no danger that he will take over the villain's place in the grand scheme of things. There is, however, a possibility that he will menace the others as a True Final Boss. The backstabber often ends up dead, but this is usually not Redemption Equals Death because their motive is not noble. Innocent victims who turn on the villain typically do it only for revenge, while evil victims prove that they were fine with all of the Big Bad's crimes except the one committed against them.

Middle Child Syndrome: Everyone loves the oldest child because the parents can rely on them, they watch out for their siblings, and they're so confidently attractive. The Youngest Child Wins because they're the "baby". But what does that leave the one in the middle? That's essentially the definition of Middle Child Syndrome, in which a child automatically may become The Unfavorite or the rebellious Black Sheep, specifically because they are the easiest child to overlook. They're not old enough to be given the responsibilities and privileges of the oldest, and the youngest child took their spot as the spoiled and doted-on "baby" of the family. This tends to be more of an issue when there are three children rather than four or more. Oftentimes in media, the middle child ends up becoming more of the Deadpan Snarker or the quirky one for this reason.

The Un-Favorite: Where there's an Alpha wolf, there's got to be a Beta. When there is a first banana, there is a second banana. This is the person in the family who can't get a break. For example, this is the child who's the big let-down to their parents, the daughter that was supposed to be a son (or vice-versa), the child the parents had by accident when they'd already decided they didn't need another mouth to feed, the adoptive, foster, or stepchild that came before the parents had a biological child, the illegitimate child conceived by infidelity on the part of one of the parents (if not even worse). But all in all, this is basically the kid who is always getting the short-end of the stick. In some extreme cases, this may cause Rich Sibling, Poor Sibling, especially if one sibling is forced into service to the other. A regular line that may be entailed with this is a variant of, "Honestly, [name], why can't you be more like [favorite's name]?"

Inspired by: Edith Crawley (Downton Abbey); Fiyero (Wicked: The Musical); Logan Huntzberger (Gilmore Girls); Rafael Solano (Jane the Virgin)

PEGGY: 

The Mediator:  Idealistic and empathetic, Mediators long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. But because this personality type makes up such a small portion of the population, Mediators may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique.

The Baby of the Bunch: Being the youngest of your group typically comes with some perks and challenges. On one side you're probably the cutest, have a pass to act immature, people like taking care of you, and you can embrace your fun side, knowing that the elders are there to handle the serious stuff. And if there's anything you're naïve about, you have plenty of others to give you the realest unfiltered advice without the generational gap and detachment that your parents or the Old Master have. On the other end, sometimes people don't take you seriously. There you're kinda stuck because no matter how old you get, you'll always be "the baby" in their eyes.

Indifferent Beauty: A character who is attractive, aware of their effect on other people, but doesn't care or at least doesn't value their physical attractiveness over their other traits. Often, this character is a consummate professional who is well aware of the fact that they could use their "assets" to get what they want by other means, but feels that it would be unprofessional or beneath their dignity, and is instead focused on proving that they can compete purely on skill, often to the exclusion of romantic opportunities. While such characters are not averse to dressing in sexy outfits, they don't plan on relying on or even exploiting their sex appeal - but the camera will often do that for them. Other characters' indifference is not due to regarding relying on appearance to be beneath their dignity, but rather that they consider it to be unimportant.

Spoiled Sweet:  The Spoiled Sweet character is a naive, spoiled, rich or comfortably upper-class or upper-middle-class girl, who has everything they could ever want, but instead of being mean, she is as nice as can be to everyone. While still spoiled, slightly naive, perhaps shallow, maybe even a bit selfish at times, when it comes right down to it, she is a loyal friend and doesn't use her money or popularity as an excuse to treat everyone like garbage — though the trope Rich in Dollars, Poor in Sense is in play, especially since a particularly common sticking point is that characters of this type often believe their friends and other loved ones deserve to live just as well as they do.

Inspired by: Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Beth March (Little Women); Pike Trickfoot (Critical Role); Peggy Schuyler (Hamilton: An American Musical)

[noszkass]

ashley tempest winthrope.

thirty six. defense attorney. jai courtney.

“You're supposed to grow out of your horridness, aren't you? I don't think I ever grew out of mine. Sometimes I think it's still inside me, like something nasty I swallowed, that got stuck...”

content warning: mentions toxic, co-dependent relationships; abuse; death of a peer/family member (via murder).

dominant traits. logical, charismatic, gentleman, stoic, focused, patient, selectively affectionate, charming, observant, cautious, possessive, unpredictable, self-preserving, forceful, obsessive, demanding, melancholic, aggressive, irritable, distrusting, unrelenting, loyal, easily jealous, less hair-trigger more berserk button, no-nonsense, quick thinking, dishonest.

fictional parallels. elijah mikaelson (the originals); geralt of rivia (the witcher); henry winter (the secret history); pope cody (animal kingdom); richie gecko (fdtd the series).

○ born into the winthorpe family; known for their successful generational family law practice, as councilmen from neighboring townships, and good for nothin' criminals who latched onto the teat of a community that's long-since given up on them like leaches─depending on what side of miriam's well it is you live in. ashley's particular branch is the former. estate house in rosebush hill drive, debutant turned matron belle mother who just can't seem to find her way around or out of other people's business (including, if not almost invariably, that of all three of her children), and a certain amount of respectability he was brought up to live by.

○ on the surface ashley winthorpe is a deliciously handsome man. wealthy and put together. takes pride in his appearance and family name. he's also well-mannered and polite, and thoughtful in such infinitesimal ways that you never really think much of until after the fact. and there is something so very not right about him. he has a kind smile that never quite reaches the edges of his eyes and though it doesn't necessarily look disingenuous, there's something about it that doesn't exactly leave you with a sense of ease. like an unfamiliar gesture that's been practiced over and over, so many times that it's lost meaning. like it takes the muscles in his face a moment to pull before they settle in the correct spots. he'll have a conversation with you and while at times it seems he's looking right through you, others will have his attention so intensely undivided it feels as if you've been bared naked and left in a cold room. like you've just been caught lying about something and he knows. somehow, he's known all along. because he listens intently when you speak to him and you suspect somehow he never forgets a single thing he's heard.

○ there's no mistaking his booming voice, jarring, even at a whisper sending shockwaves through your core that has you on high alert. even when it's soft and lulling (in an attempt to offer comfort or catching him melt into the woman he's declared the love of his goddamn life from the corner of your eye through the crack in his office door), there's something threatening that looms. less like hard blunt force and more like a living, breathing fog that blankets you with strong arms, settles deep into your gut, coils itself around your innards, and wrings you dry. the confusing part? you know, without a doubt, he would protect you with no hesitation and ask for nothing in return. and, most of the time, you'd be right. because ashley winthorpe is a good man. no matter how your instincts thrash, screaming at you otherwise.

plot hooks.

i apologize, some of these are all very specific to a singular plot and i could've just included them in a legit request 😬🙃

○ sandbox love never dies. a very specific and imperfect friend group cast in the roles of bastard, bleeding heart, damaged, golden, grim, ingénue, temptress, and wild card. they've been together since any of them can remember. spent their whole lives dreaming about trying to get out of miriam's well, but instead only found tragedies that bind them to each other. tragedies, usually, of their own making. you'll be able to read a little more about these characters in the sandbox love request, which i promise is coming!! there is a doc in the works with more information + a plot server, so expect to be part of those things if you take one of these babes!

○ his secretary. in the past he's helped her out with something legally and she's kind of in his debt, though he insists time and time again she owes him nothing of the sort. i figured it'd be something along the lines of strong holding an ex-boyfriend or husband who wouldn't leave her alone (making her miserable, or something like refusing to pay child support he'd been ordered to pay, dragging her name through the mud, etc. general nuisances to nip in the bud/bad behavior in need of correcting before they became worse as they usually do. you get the idea), because that's notoriously right up his alley. likely using non-legal means to get there; intimidation is sort of his thing. and while he may not be the type of boss or co-worker who meets you for drinks after you clock out, he does have an affection for every single one of his employees and seeing as how she works with him the most, she'd be near the top of that list. maybe she was intimidated by him in the beginning and now she knows he's not everything he appears to be. and they have an understanding.

○ the weight of his guilt. [cw: murder. this will come much later in the plot!] the winthorpes are a family on two very extremes of a type of people. [the bastard] is his cousin on his father's side, a wayward little sister who got knocked up by someone unbefitting of the family and then marrying someone worse by their standards when the father got himself put away over an affair or something just as unbecoming. ashley was always raised closely with [the bastard], his father's hope to sway the boy of many wasted talents to the right side of the family, to make something of himself. but he's a product of his lineage. and only ever finds situations for ash to get him out of. eventually, [the bastard] who he will murder, cold and bloody and bury at the base of an old oak tree will disappear. and ashley's guilt will cause him to reach out. as far as anyone knew, they were the best of friends. always together (even if that relationship was practically handwrought by his father, and he had little-to-no patience for his cousin's antics). it'll be only natural that he come by every now and again to check on them, show care, help fix up things around the house that [the bastard] would have if he were still around. because it'll ultimately be ash's fault he's gone. partially. [the bastard] will deserve what he gets and no one who'll know will be able to convince him anything otherwise, but his family didn't deserve the fallout that came after. maybe a parent or sibling or someone [the bastard] claimed to love while making his way through the female population of miriam's well.

○ the other two winthrope children. they're expected to be upstanding citizens to combat the trash reputation the other winthrope side creates. father is one of a long line of lawyers (with a main practice just outside of town, ashley's secondary office in mw because he prefers it here) and mother is a homemaker whose extracurriculars might as well be solid, paying jobs. they have three children together; ashley (being the oldest son), a daughter magnolia (and the only girl -- taken by sage), and the youngest son, credence (who is very likely expected to join the family business, like ashley). i don't expect anyone to make the parents even though that would be incredible? but they all still have rooms at their home in rosebush hill drive to use at their leisure. it wouldn't at all be out of the question that some of the children still live there -- especially the daughter if she's unwed. they're very old fashioned southern that way. they do these big family events where everyone is expected to participate, go on vacations and holidays together, and church on sundays regardless of your personal beliefs on the matter (that you had very well better keep to yourself if they don't align, ashley has learned). their grandfather also lives in the family house after losing grandma a few years back.

[chasingthepoguelife]

Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 1

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 1

 (gif credits to @rafecameron​)

Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

 Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

 Warning: For part 1 I don’t think there is anything.

 Another summer week has come and passed for the kooks of Figure Eight. The Cameron kids made quite the headlines last year, Sarah dating a boy from the Cut, and the eldest Rafe Cameron, having to save one of his father’s many businesses after almost running it to the ground. The chatter and nosiness of other Figure Eight residents died down in the winter, but they always stick their noses in the Cameron’s business around summer time. Rafe awaited the month of September where he could escape to the mainland again, but after only two weeks down, and what felt like two years, he had no idea how he would survive the next six weeks.

 “Come on get up!” Rafe heard with a pillow meeting his face. He looked over at his clock, 1:30pm, and was greeted with Sarah hovering over his night stand.

 “Sarah, I have no desire to go anywhere except for the kitchen, “Rafe groaned.

 “I’m not going to let you wither away like a pathetic sap. Get your bathing suit on and head outside. We’re meeting John B and Kiara, even your friends bothered to tag along.”

 “Why do you have to make things even more fucked than they already are?” Rafe questioned.

 “If John B and I can move around the island and shut down the lonely gossiping housewives, then you can get on a boat!”

 After Rafe groaned and didn’t move for ten minutes, Sarah had to come back in to make sure he was alive and moving.

 “Five minutes Rafe!” Sarah yelled, pulling off his comforter.

 After fifteen minutes, Rafe managed to get himself dressed and meet his sister and John B on their father’s boat. Ward had suggested they take the boat for a joy ride, all day, wherever they wanted. A year ago, Rafe’s blood would’ve boiled at the thought of a pogue being so close, but things have changed. He actually admires how John B lives his life, not caring what other people think, although he’d rather choke before admitting he looks up to a younger pogue.

 “Ok so Rafe’s a sad sack that barley moves and John B as your girlfriend I automatically make the rules so we’re heading south to meet Kie for the day. I’m going to sail so you two make nice and enjoy the ride,” Sarah demanded.

 As Sarah started the boat’s engine, the group heard screaming, looking up towards the Cameron house, seeing a tall blonde boy in a pink polo, running like his life depended on it.

“You- said- 215pm- Sarah!” the boy gasped out of breath.

 “No Topper, I’m pretty sure I said 2,” Sarah said sarcastically.

 After almost a year, Sarah is still playing jokes on her ex- boyfriend and brother for the way they treated John B and his friends.

 “Rafe boy, you tired of me already?” Topper laughed.

 “Obviously, look at my new best friend here,” Rafe pointed to John B.

 “I’m going to get us beers if this is how the whole ride is going to be,” John B said.

 “You tired of us already Rafey?” Topper joked.

 “I’m always tired of you and Kelce,” Rafe laughed.

 “You know he’s on some better path spiritual shit this summer, giving up booze?” Topper said in disbelief (A/N: in season 2 I want better for Kelce as in he deserves better friends)

 “It has to be better than this. I don’t want to deal with everyone’s judgmental shit so I keep a low profile, and all that’s got me is a boat ride with my sister and John B, and to see more pogues!”

 Rafe and Topper have become more tolerant of the residents of the Cut, but no doubt they wake up every morning still thinking they’re a gift to this planet.

 “I don’t know if I can handle another 6 weeks of this shit, I’m going insane!” Rafe yelled.

 “I’m sure we will find something to fill those weeks. If we go looking long enough, something fun will fall in our lap,” Topper smirked.

 John B had come back with drinks for the group, actually engaging in civil conversation with his girlfriend’s ex and her loopy brother. The boys have adjusted to this civil relationship, something Figure Eight residents loved to gossip about. Not too long after, the kook boys started to see that they would be arriving shortly after passing Heywards, marking their entrance into pogue world. Rafe will never admit it, but the pogue he hates the most is Pope Heyward. He hates how hardworking and smart he is, how his father would do anything for him, but more so how he has an entire group of friends ready to drop everything to help him. Topper is his good friend, but there’s no way he’d do half the things John B and JJ do for Pope.

 “There’s Kie on her dad’s boat,” Sarah pointed out. “I’m going to anchor down close to hers and we can figure it out from there.”

 As Sarah found a good place to drop the anchor, everyone on the boat could here Kie and another voice mixing of loud laughter. Kie was running around on the boat deck as another girl the group had never seen before followed behind her. Surprised by the presence of unknown person, the group couldn’t help but stare.

 “Kie!” Sarah waved enthusiastically. The one good thing out of last year’s madness was that Sarah got her childhood best friend back. Kie and the unknown girl started making their way onto the Druthers as it is bigger than Kie’s boat. Everyone watched the girls make their way on, especially Rafe. He wasn’t sure what to make of this girl, but he definitely noticed her long legs climbing onto the boat and that’s when he thought, what else she was capable of doing with legs that long. His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a new voice.

 “I’m y/n”, she said as everyone stared.

 “Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m John B, this is Sarah, that’s Topper, and that last one is Rafe.”

 As y/n took in the new people in front of her, Topper noticed how her eyes kept lingering on Rafe.

 “Kie, are you going to tell us about your new gorgeous friend?” Topper smirked.

 “No, she won’t, but I will!” y/n chimed in.

 “Well obviously I’m y/n. I’m 18 years old. I’m new to the Outer Banks. My dad had to move us out here for a business deal that he’s got going with Kiara’s dad, I have a 14-year-old brother, and at any time you can either find me in the water or looking for snacks.”

 “Where do you live y/n”? John B asked.

 “Not too far. My parents managed to find a cute little house in the Marigold neighborhood. (A/N: I made this location up) Everyone except Kie stopped in their tracks. The group although already divided, had nothing to do with the residents of Marigold. Anyone in that area of the island was neither a pogue nor a kook. They really had no identity as they were not rich enough to be kooks but not poor enough to be a pogue from the Cut. Most people living there are Marigold born and raised, considered to be more of an outcast than pogues. The rest of the island didn’t know how to label Marigolds. There wasn’t enough money to buy a yacht, but you could still eat enough everyday and rest your head on a comfortable big bed every night.

 An awkward silence lingered in the group that no one knew how to break. Kie pulled y/n by the arm and explained.

 “Y/n I told you, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with where you live, but on this island, everyone is classist and territorial. You’re better off saying you’re from my neighborhood to make it easier for you.”

 “This group is already messed up, what’s one more thing to stir the pot? Welcome to the group y/n!” John B cheered.

 As the tension cleared in the group, the sun came out in full force. Sarah steered the Druthers further out into the ocean for a nice swim. The music began bumping, drinks were passed around, and y/n felt like she knew the group for years. After a few hours, the only ones who needed a break were Topper and Rafe. The two climbed back onto the boat to rest.

 “So, for a Marigold this new girl seems decent?” Topper questioned.

 “She’s alright, just not for me. The last thing I need on top of all this other shit is for me to be seen around the island with a girl like that. The Figure Eight would have a field day.”

 “Maybe that’s it,” Topper smirked. “This is something you’ve never experienced before. It would be a challenge. She’s not the worst thing to look at, you could have some fun with her.”

 “Top if I really wanted to, I could have my pick of any pogue or kook chick in my bed like yesterday,” Rafe boasted.

 “No man, hear me out. You have 6 weeks left. I challenge you to make her head over heels for you in that time. It will give you something to do, you’ll get some and then poof you leave for the mainland. By the time you see her again she’ll be over it. Plus, she seemed to focus on you a bit longer back at the docks so she probably already has a thing for youI get why we had to change with the pogues but at least they know where they stand. This girl thought she’d move here and live like she’s the main character of a tv show but it’s only going to cause more problems, “Topper shared his concerns.

 Rafe had to pause for a moment. Last year he would’ve said yes right away, but lately he’s been finding himself questioning his morals and values, thinking if he behaved more the gossip would stop. It would be wrong to mess with someone like this, but he is bored after all, and he doesn’t want to look like a pussy in front of Topper. He looked out into the ocean watching her swim so happily amongst the waves.

 “This is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” Rafe declared.