#Men's White Ethnic Dress

[koolifashion]

Kooli Fashion: Men's White Ethnic Dress

Elevate your style with Kooli Fashion's Men's White Ethnic Dress. Crafted with premium cotton rayon blend, it offers comfort and elegance. Perfect for any occasion, embrace timeless Indian fashion today!

[pedrospatch]

Just Friends

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be. 

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration. 

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men. 

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date. 

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time. 

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña. 

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded. 

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb. 

Of course he knew Valeria. 

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different. 

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you. 

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things. 

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home. 

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you. 

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse. 

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.” 

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again. 

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed. 

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him. 

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole. 

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you. 

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him. 

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.” 

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile. 

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow.  “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. 

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good. 

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch. 

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier. 

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin. 

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him. 

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide. 

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him. 

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip. 

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen. 

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. 

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself. 

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true. 

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge. 

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely. 

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you. 

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come. 

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release. 

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely. 

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants. 

 “J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder. 

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—” 

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth.  “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you. 

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow? 

[cyno-cephali]

Every time a white person compares traditional robes and dress to modern Western dresses, another one of my brain cells commits suicide

[caliburn-the-sword]

the main talking point of a lot of people that love eah but bash on descendants is that "eah was deep!! descendants was just a disney knockoff that meant nothing and was just a cashgrab" SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP (to be clear i am an eah lover). analytical thoughts to follow:

consider also, that auradon is portrayed as very technologically advanced in direct opposition to the isle being associated with magic (even with its ban) and a lot of of clearly second hand, worn and torn fridges and tvs and whatever

also, the fact that she felt PRESSURED to not only culturally assimilate into auradon culture, but alter her physical appearance to assimilate further. consider mal's costuming in the first movie. on the isle, we see her with (what i assume is her natural) purple hair, leather, etc. she is even, to a degree, gender nonconforming. pretty much the ONLY time we see her in skirts is when she's trying to impress ben for her plan to work

compare this with the hair costuming in descendants 2:

(i actually can't remember which scenes the third one was in but whatever) they have taken away her sparkle!! she's assimilated firstly into auradon fashion by dressing in pastels like them, and in SKIRTS which she textually only wore in the first movie when she wanted to impress ben. now with the added context of her wanting to impress auradon. and it really speaks a lot that she feels she has to conform to gender norms more in order to be accepted by auradon

and what about hair. she's felt the need to not only change the way she dresses, but change her hair to the eurocentric standard, so blonde that it's almost WHITE to conform to auradon's society (because let's be real, her mum's a fairy/dragon and her dad is a greek god. i'd be MORE surprised if she was DYING her hair purple than it being natural). changing your natural hair in order to to conform to and be accepted by the majority... where have i heard that one before??

shoutout to @soniccat

(to be clear. it is not a one for one analogy. "hey using a spell to force someone to forget what you did is an invasion" to me is like going "well actually people were right to fear mutants in x-men because some of them were walking weapons" IT'S A METAPHOR THAT IS ALSO A PLOT DEVICE)

('backwater' being used ironically, do not let my meaning be misconstrued here. a better way to word it is that immigrants are guilttripped into having to be 'grateful' for their oppression in a first world country because microaggressions or assimilation is considered better than the alternative, being back in your home country where living conditions may be considered poorer)

in the sense that for instance, jay put a VK spin on supporting feminism. like yes, he could've done it the rulefollowing, create a petition and gather signatures route, but INSTEAD he finds and exploits an existing loophole to let lonnie join the team. or evie shouting out dizzy's creations, uplifting her voice despite the fact she could've still taken the credit since she was the one that paired the outfit with the accessories. etc

are the descendants movies objectively bad movies?? yes. but this was to me, one of the most compelling analogies for immigrant struggles. take particular notice how almost ALL the main VKs are either racebent from the original disney movies (evie, carlos, uma) or were already based on an ethnic character (mal, jay)

but wait, mal is the whitest white girl to walk the planet. how is she already based on an ethnic character?

glad you asked. it is quite unclear in the descendants movie (basing its portrayal of maleficent on the disney sleeping beauty) is a fairy or a dragon. while the maleficent movie isn't canon to the descendants universe, i'm still going to use the fact that she's a fairy with the magical ability to turn herself into a dragon

a lot fairy folklore comes from ireland. the name maleficent itself, and i quote

shares similarities to the name millicent. millicent has irish (or scottish) roots (even a coat of arms) as in

thus one could argue that maleficent herself could potentially be irish coded

whether or not you agree with the idea that maleficent is irish coded, it is undeniable that mal is the daughter of hades, a greek god. it's a shame that that was a retcon in the third movie and not planned from the start, because the role could've gone to an actually greek actress (please google the ottoman empire and greek independence day if you still think it's not fitting for me to group mal with the others)

where was i going with this?? right. it's extremely telling that most of the main/side VKs, save for gil, are ethnic, in the story of a group of misfits finding themselves in an unfamiliar country with new social norms for them to learn as they try to fit in with and become accepted by their peers

[artificial-transmutations]

I'm the ugliest nerd in the world and I have nobody. I wish I was a man with dark brown eyes, nice muscles and everything that makes a himbo... and every nerd I kiss becomes a man like only an Arabian fairy tale could tell. He would only want me. Only I could keep his muscular body up with kisses and fucks.

Can you grant me this one Wish?

An Arabian fairy tale

Once upon a time, there was a nerd called Gregor. He lived his life in a big city and every day, he was miserable. Not only was he gay and lonely, no, the little nerd was also ugly. He wasn't just ugly, no, he was the ugliest nerd there was in the whole country.

Every day he wished he could find a lover and live happily ever after, but every day, he was reminded of his status as a lonely nerd. He tried online-dating, but due to his exterior, nobody seemed to want him.

Gregor was a shy, awkward guy who didn't get many chances to talk to strangers. In his free time, he enjoyed writing fantasy stories, a hobby that didn't bring him too many friends, either. It was frustrating, too. In his stories, the hero always managed to find a true love. He wasn't alone, no, he had someone at his side.

In his real life, however, Gregor didn't have such luck. The best thing that happened to him in a while was meeting another nerd online. There wasn't going to be anything romantic between them. As fate would have it, the other nerd, called Evan was also gay and lived not too far away, but Evan had made it pretty clear early on that Gregor just wasn't his type. Instead, he rooted for manly men, with a different ethnic background. Evan and Gregor spent a long lonely night in voice chat together, discussing their preferences. Evan apparently longed for the firm touch of a strong man with Arabic background.

Meanwhile, Gregor didn't dare say what he wished for. What was the use, anyway? There was no way it was going to happen. No one wanted to be with a weak, ugly nerd like him. To be honest, he didn't actually really know himself. In his thoughts, a partner was something so abstract, so far away that he hadn't even thought about how such a person would look like.

Evan's fantasy wasn't bad, though. After their talk, Gregor lay awake in his bed and imagined strong, middle-eastern men, along with Evan. Perhaps he had developed a slight crush on the other nerd. Finally, he drifted off to sleep, wishing that he and Evan could be together.

When Gregor awoke the next morning, he felt strangely energetic and in a pretty good mood. Thinking nothing of it, he quickly got dressed and thought about what to do today. He didn't have any work to do and would usually have spent the day indoors, writing one of his stories. However, after the refreshing talk yesterday, that didn't feel all too appealing. Instead, he had an idea: He knew where Evan lived and worked. Perhaps he should walk over to that other part of the city, and they could have a coffee. Not as a date, of course - but more as a continuation of last night's talk.

Gregor didn't have time to waste and left the house. As he stepped into the sun, the first thing he noticed was how bright the world suddenly appeared. He didn't think much of it, but a few moments later, the second strange thing happened: People were looking at him!

Now, Gregor was of course used to people looking after him - he was really ugly, after all! But today, it was different. The gazes that lingered on him didn't seem to be hostile or disgusted. They seemed curious.

Perhaps his shirt had a hole in it, Gregor thought. He checked himself, but no, the shirt was fine.

As he walked, the attention he drew increased steadily. Was there something on his face perhaps? Or his arms?

As he checked his arms, Gregor was amazed by what he saw: His milky-white skin that usually had a sickly tone to it was entirely different today: instead of the pale and blotchy skin, he now had a healthy and firm complexion. The muscles in his arms, which he usually thought of as scrawny and flabby were now clearly visible.

He checked the other arm, and it was the same. What was going on? Also, his vision was getting blurry. When he took off his glasses to clean them, however, his vision cleared up instantly. It was as if his short-sightedness was just gone!

As Gregor kept walking, the changes became more apparent: His legs, which had always been thin and small, were now visibly muscular. His stomach, which had always been a little fat, was now a firm six-pack. His clothes, which had been a bit baggy before, were getting tighter and tighter as both his height and his shoulder width increased more and more.

His hair, which had always been a dark brown, was getting even darker, and a strong stubble covered his chin. His skin, which had been the same milky white tone, was getting a darker, more exotic tan.

Gregor had no idea what was going on, and he was a little scared. But the more his body changed, the better he felt about it. He wasn't an ugly nerd anymore. He was not yet sure what he was going to become, but it was surely better than what he had been.

Meanwhile, his clothes were getting increasingly tight, and he felt like taking them off. That was not something he would ever do in public, but his urges were stronger than his shyness. With a quick movement, he took off his shirt and ripped his pants open. To his surprise, below the tight jeans, a pair of silk shorts in a shiny royal blue had formed instead of his slip, which covered his privates. However, even though he wasn't naked, the ample bulge that stretched the silky fabric left little to imagination: a large and thick manhood had formed between his legs, which left a clearly visible dick print, along with the thinly veiled big orbs of balls he now had.

By now, Gregor's appearance was attracting a lot of attention, as his body kept growing more and more, becoming larger and more impressive by the second. He wasn't even "lean" or "fit" anymore. The way his body expanded, he definitely qualified as "muscular" by now, perhaps even "bulky". His shoulders were wide and strong, and his back had filled out so much that his neck had almost disappeared entirely. His biceps and triceps were both at least the size of his head and were covered in a fine, dark fuzz. The rest of his body had also become much hairier: His chest was covered in a generous carpet of dark hairs and a thick bush of pubes was pushing out against the silky shorts.

People had stopped and stared, and even a few had started to snap pictures or take videos with their phones. Gregor was enjoying the attention. His facial structure reformed into something much more manly. His new Arabic heritage became clearly visible on his face. His nose, his eyes, and his jawline changed and became broader, more prominent. His eyes became deep and dark, and his bushy eyebrows made him appear quite serious and manly.

A superior grin appeared on his face that wouldn't go away anymore. Gregor knew he had become a walking wet dream of Arabic hunkness - especially for Evan. He couldn't wait to surprise him like that.

Even though his identity hadn't changed much, Gregor didn't feel like calling himself Gregor anymore. Ghalib. That was a far more fitting name for his impressive Arabic stature. It meant 'victor' or 'conqueror' - and Ghalib felt exactly like that.

Ghalib wasn't even sweating when he arrived at Evans place a short jog later. He rang the bell, and when the little nerd in front of him opened, he didn't waste any time: Ghalib pulled Evan into a tight and sensual kiss, invading the other man's mouth with determined force. Evan moaned in his mouth and his legs gave in.

Ghalib held the small nerd up and carried him inside the flat, kicking the door shut behind him. The rest of their clothes soon littered the floor as the two men kissed passionately. However, as they were making out, Evan, too, began to change. It was almost like watching his own changes in fast forward: The hair on his head receded into a shorter style and was replaced by a thick fuzz that grew on his chest and the rest of his body. Evan's face morphed into a masculine and rugged appearance. His skinny, pale arms and legs grew more and more muscles, until they looked like they were sculpted out of marble. His skin darkened and an Arabic ethnicity appeared by it.

Finally, the smaller man's cock expanded and swelled up. Within a few seconds, it reached almost the size of Ghalib's.

As they continued kissing, the two men, now equally hung and ripped, felt up each other's bodies. Ghalib had no idea why this was happening, or what had brought on these changes, but he didn't care. All he knew - or was pretty sure about - was that it didn't have to stop with Evan.

As the other hunk went down on him, Ghalib made a decision. Evan and he would share their gift, turning more and more nerds into a true harem of sexy Arabs!

[xxcrystalinerose]

Next up in the Sabzerus designs: Tighnari and Cyno!

I know this is unrendered, but I already committed to not rendering these two until I finish Haitham and Kaveh's designs which, in hindsight, is difficult atm because I have more ideas about Collei's design over them. With the recent release of Sethos, it seems that it would have to wait until I finish his and Collei's designs when I get to them. I'm writing a fic now lol so it the wait is probably quite long.

Tighnari's is relatively easy and I'm so pleased with the results! He finally looks put together and not... odd, palette-wise (to put it mildly). His clothing is based on the traditional dress of the Kabyle people, an Amazigh ethnic group from northern Algeria, with some modernized touches (I used references from modern-day photos of Kabyle dress!). The highlight is the burnous (hooded cloak), originally a symbol of resistance in the Algerian War of Independence and now a garment worn in special occasions such as religious festivals. I think it would be appropriate of Tighnari to wear one for his Sabzerus dress.

Cyno is so far the most difficult one to design. I have 0 references outside of speculative fashion plates and museum pictures of jewelry. I struggled so much with the outfit components, but I persevered and this is the result. His clothing is based on what Ancient Egyptian high priests of the New Kingdom wear. The long shendyt (kilt) and shawl are made from linen, which in higher social classes are woven so finely they appear as though transparent. Not just luxurious, but also airy for comfort against the desert heat.

Previously on: Nahida + Wanderer | Nilou

As usual, close-ups and some more thoughts under the cut:

Tighnari's canon design is incredibly confusing to me, because unlike some other Sumeru characters I have absolutely no idea which part of Algerian (or Arab, but that's a very wide ballpark) dress it's supposed to be based on. Where is that white fabric wrap even from? However, when I looked at his hoodie, I realized that it's probably supposed to be a "modernized equivalent" of a burnous. Probably.

The belt accessory is actually an article I always see on women's robe kabyle, but never men's. I think they look neat and Tighnari wears belt accessories, so I incorporated them. (If any of you seeing this are Kabyle or Amazigh, do tell me more of the nuances. Are they exclusively feminine accessories? I also read that Kabyle women tie their sashes differently depending on marital status, but does this only apply to sashes or does it also apply to these cord belts?)

It's not very obvious, but the burnous has a split back, so Tighnari's tail can poke out comfortably. It's also pretty fun to try and incorporate elements of his official design, such as the paw-print gloves, the boots, and the turtleneck. To me, Tighnari without a turtleneck is unimaginable for some reason.

I've been tentatively calling Cyno's design "the one time Cyno puts some effort into doing his hair". The little braids aside, his hair is actually in a half-up bun. I really should draw these refs from more angles... and this is unimportant in the grand scope of things, but I gave him some beef. My guy deserves more beef (and I apologize for covering his chest regardless).

The wesekh (wide collar) is made from gold and various precious gems/minerals. This one has gold, carnelian, and turquoise. The narrow golden beads on the outermost layer represents beetles, which in turn symbolize resurrection (i.e. Hermanubis' indwelling within Cyno).

I've always been baffled at the fact that Cyno wears mostly black, but would prefer for my design to contain elements from his actual design, so I kept the sash and helmet black. However, I do know that too much dyed linen (and animal fibers) are inappropriate to wear in temples. Unless you are a funeral priest, where you wear a leopard skin as a part of the rites. Then again, Cyno's biggest inspiration is Anubis, so perhaps he could get some leeway here...

To continue with the flower theming, I chose the Sumeru Rose for Cyno and Tighnari wears the yellow flower on his canon clothes once again. It's never mentioned in game, but I'd like to think the Sumeru Rose is among the national flowers of Sumeru along with the Padisarah, so it's appropriate for the General Mahamatra to wear it.

Lastly, I gave them matching double piercings. Tighnari wears them on his right ear (as per his canon design), and Cyno on his left. Another matching set :)

[spacelazarwolf]

I apologize you’ve explained this before but why do you think male/female socialization is bullshit? From the way I think about it isn’t it just the fact that certain gender roles are pushed onto afab and amab people by authority figures and thus society in general to dress a certain way, show or not show emotions, forced to cover up, etc? Isn’t this a thing that happens or is there another term for it

I agree that male socialization to justify describing amab people as inherently bad is wrong though. But otherwise isn’t this an actual thing?

i've sort of touched on it in other posts, but i'll use this opportunity to try and collect all my thoughts and expand on some things i've been thinking about lately. i can't promise it'll be all-encompassing, but i'll do my best.

i think when it comes to conversations about "socialization", we're having the wrong conversation. we shouldn't be asking "how did being 'raised male/female' make this person act?", we should be asking "how was this person affected by the gender roles they were taught growing up, and how did it intersect with other parts of their identity?"

to try to illustrate this better than just a wall of text, i'm going to give some examples of "traditional" gender roles that come up a lot in discussions about socialization, and how different people might be affected by them.

"female" gender roles

must be softspoken/speak when spoken to

under white supremacy, black women are painted as aggressive (which is seen as a bad thing) while white women are painted as docile (which is seen as a good thing). how would this gender role affect a black woman differently than a white woman?

jewish women who are raised in jewish culture are generally seen as much more outspoken than the culturally white norm. how would the expectation to be "softspoken" affect them?

how would this affect trans men who are raised with this expectation, but when they transition and are put in the societal role of "man" are expected to be more outspoken? or trans women who have this gender role used against them when they try to speak up?

must focus on being a mother

to society, giving birth is one of the pillars of womanhood. how would this affect a trans man who has given birth or wants to? how would this affect a trans woman who can't?

how would this affect a black woman who deals with racist rhetoric surrounding black people having multiple children? how would it affect a black mother who is afraid of bringing black children into a world that is not safe for them?

how would this affect women who don't want children? how would it affect women who do want children, but still want to maintain their life as an individual person and not just a mother?

must be nurturing and learn how to handle others' emotions

how would this affect women of color who are frequently burdened with managing white people's emotions in conversations about race?

how would this affect all trans people, both those who were raised with this expectation and those who have this expectation put on them later in life, whose safety can be compromised by perceived "outburtsts"?

"male" gender roles

must not express emotions

how would this affect men who are racial and ethnic minorities who are trying to talk about the oppression they face and the grief that comes along with it? especially those for whom showing intense emotions is perceived as aggression?

how would this affect trans men who transitioned later in life who now have to deal with people's negative reactions to them showing the same emotions they've shown their whole life?

how would this affect trans women who were raised with this expectation, and now have difficulty expressing their emotions even though the societal role they're in now "allows" for that?

must be a breadwinner and protector, regardless of personal cost

how would this affect trans men who have different safety needs than most cis men who are now expected to put that safety on the line? (remember malte c.)

how would this affect working class men who are not paid fairly, expected to work more for less, with less benefits and protections, and then don't get to connect with their families and friends the way they might want to?

how would this affect darker skinned men of color who are already at higher risk of police violence who want to protect their loved ones from harm but know if they try the consequences could be deadly?

must not show any femininity

how would this affect jewish and east asian men who are seen as inherently more feminine because of their ethnicity/race?

how would this affect queer men whose expression is more feminine?

how would this affect trans women who are still forced into the societal role of "man"?

how would this affect trans men, who are inherently seen as feminine because of their agab, or if they don't want to present entirely normatively masculine?

particularly when it comes to trans people, depending on when we transition, our agab can have very little affect on any sort of social conditioning we receive. for me, i came out and started medically transitioning when i was 28, almost 29. my life up until that point had been profoundly affected by misogyny and sexism. growing up in a conservative town, i'd been told by the culture that i lived in that my place in the world was to have babies with a nice man, and maybe do some music on the side. i experienced medical sexism that left me disabled, educational sexism that forced me to drop out, and those things are a huge part of why i am who i am today. so it does frustrate me when people say that because i'm a man today i couldn't possibly have experienced or been affected by those things, because those experiences supposedly belong to "women" and by trying to claim them i'm somehow defaulting on my claim to my identity as a man.

i can't change what i experienced or the way it affected me. but just because i experienced one thing doesn't mean that everyone who shares my identity has to have the exact same experience, or that everyone who is the "opposite" identity of me has to have experienced the opposite. the trans boy i know who came out at age 6 is going to have a very different experience. his teachers see him as a boy, he is growing up in a more progressive and accepting community, his parents are fierce advocates for him in social and medical settings, and he is going to have a really amazing life. the kind of life all trans people should be able to have.

my life experiences will be more similar to a trans girl who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "girl" role than they will be to the trans boy who came out at age 6 and experienced growing up placed in the "boy" role. and that, to me, is what makes trans experiences so fascinating. the trans girl might not know what it's like to get messaging about having babies being your only role in life because you have a uterus, but those messages about having babies are still going to affect her because having babies is seen as the most womanly thing you can do, and people will use the fact she can't have babies to "prove" she's not a woman. women with uteruses who are infertile often experience similar reactions, people stripping them of their womanhood because they can't carry a child. the trans boy might not know what it's like to have high school teachers speak down to you and put you in the front row so they can look down your shirt in the middle of class, but he'll still know what it's like to have people try to prevent you from transitioning because of your physical capability to have children, and what it's like to live in a world that hates you and wants to punish you for trying to "rise above your station."

every human being experiences some sort of social conditioning, because that's how humans grow and develop. we look to the world around us to try to learn how to interact with others, what society expects from us, etc. there's really no valid argument for the idea that no one experiences any sort of conditioning when they're young, because that's just not how human brains work. it's just that it's not as simple as "male vs female socialization." there are dozens of ways that intersecting experiences like race, ethnicity, ability, neurodivergence, queerness, etc. can affect the way society sees and treats you, the way society expects you to behave, and the way society enforces that behavior. it's not black and white. nothing is.

the only person who can determine how your upbringing may have affected who you are today is you. other people might be able to make observations, but you're the only one who can connect the dots. if there are things you learned growing up that you find were not healthy behaviors or were ineffectual coping mechanisms, you can unlearn them. we are always growing and changing. i've said before, socialization is something that happens to you, not something you are. no one is trapped in their 14 year old self forever.

[metamatar]

there's a great section in beyond caste by sumit guha about how portuguese colonial officials navigated the caste system and its interaction with preexisting racial hierarchies

Albums depicting the typical physiognomy and dress of particular castes or descent groups were compiled in the Spanish Americas well into the eighteenth century. Eighteenth-century Spanish American legislation prohibited intermarriage between high and low-status groups, or what the Sanskrit law books would have called varṇa-saṁkara (mixing of the castes), though it none the less occurred. Thus the Portuguese, who introduced later coming Europeans to Indian society, were evolving a system of ethnic and social stratification by biological ancestry; it was for this reason that they immediately assumed that Indian jātis aimed exclusively at maintaining ‘purity of blood’. The early response was, however, not to attack caste but to reduce most features of it to a concern of civil society, external to the faith (adiaphora). Converts of different castes were thus permitted separate churches. Indeed, Nobili approvingly quoted a Brahman convert who responded to critics who declared that Nobili’s color was testimony to his being a despicable ‘prangui’.

"You reproach the saniassi [Nobili] with being a vile Prangui [Westerner] and cite his color as proof. … by that argument I prove that you are a [Dalit caste-name]. You are black, [Dalits] are black so you are therefore a [Dalit caste-name]. What! Can you not conceive that in another country where all men, brahmans and [Dalits] alike are white, there will be among the whites the same distinction of castes, the same distinction between nobles and commoners? Everyone applauded this reply, which was as substantive as it was spirited."

The logical conclusion of this was of course for Nobili to adopt the guise and habits of a south Indian Brahman in order to gain status and spread his faith. This step gave rise to the long-lasting ‘Malabar rites’ controversy that finally ended with the rejection of Nobili’s strategy. Such mimesis was a reaction to the many-stranded patterns of the Indian system that proved such an annoying obstacle to proselytization. Nobili and like-minded clerics hoped to replace one strand of the knot with submission to their church while leaving much else undisturbed.

[bijoumikhawal]

anyway I am going to spoil everyone's fun. The Mummy is a racist movie, it's frustrating that it's popular and no one discusses that, and let me explain why

Whitewashing/brownface/self orientalism. The Carnahan's are meant to be mixed race. Their actors are white. Oded Fehr is white and a significant portion of his career has been playing exotic brown people in media made for white people, specifically while weaponizing the ethnic ambiguity he does have. Imhotep is white- insult to injury, his actor is an Afrikaner! Playing a pre-colonial African character! The only Egyptians played by people who arent white are the sex pest warden, Dr. Bey (also a minor character who dies), and Anck-su-namun. None of their actors are Egyptian.

The portrayal of Egyptian men. The warden and Jonathan are both portrayed as pathetic, weak, morally circumspect, and the warden is a pervert. Imhotep is also a pervert, frankly. The Egyptian public at large- mostly male crowds and male workers- are literally canon fodder and senselessly killed on multiple occasions. They're turned into mindless zombies, with no consideration given to what happens to them afterwards. Did hundreds of people just die? In public? The only two Egyptian men that aren't utterly horrible are Evie's boss, Dr. Bey, and Ardeth.

The portrayal of Egyptian women. The only two we actually hear speak is Evie and Anck-su-namun, both of whom have orientalist tropes applied to them- Evie, when they make her dress "local", and Anck-su-namun with the whole titlating "the pharaoh has me walk around naked and covered in wet body paint so no one can touch me without him knowing" nonsense- similar tropes are applied to Ardeth, frankly, with how his tattoos are portrayed, his ethnic background, etc. They specifically chose tattoos a Western audience would still find sexy (which aren't based on the actual local tattooing traditions). Face veils in early 20th century Egypt didn't really look like that, even the ones you might call flirty, and I find portrayals that make Ancient Egyptian society's overall often greater comfort with bared skin into titillation for the audience pretty offensive, especially as there are currently existing cultures in Africa viewed through lenses like that. It's not merely ahistorical, it's apart of a broader issue with how living people are viewed by others.

This is more of a me thing, other Egyptians may not agree: I think mummies as a horror trope are racist. The key fear to mummy movies is that white people might get punished for disturbing the graves of the honored dead. You are asked to identify with literal colonizers and view the local population as antagonistic (past and present in this case), especially in this movie, which is set before England started pretending it wasn't controlling Egypt (and by the damn way, ask ANY Egyptian when the country got independence and we'll say 1956. Between 22 and 56, England still had explicit control over some of the government, notably foreign relations and military, it used this an excuse to justify control of Sudan, and it was militarily occupying the country, especially the Suez area. When King Farouk tried to make a decision they didn't like, they put his palace under seige. That is not independence. Whoever made the 1922 declaration the first result on Google is manufacturing apologia for imperialism).

[hobiebrownismygod]

Let's talk about Desi representation again!!

I don't talk about this stuff often but when I do, I have some strong ass opinions

and yes I'm gonna be talking about none other than Pavitr Prabhakar at the end cuz he's just special to me <3

Hollywood is lagging behind on Desi representation

You'd think one of the biggest film industries in the world would be able to represent us properly, considering the fact that we make up the largest group of South-Asian Americans and the second largest group of Asian-Americans in the US, but instead-

Western Television forces Indians to conform to harmful stereotypes

Some of the most popular Desi characters on screen are Raj Koothrappali from the Big Bang Theory, Devi Vishwakumar from Never Have I Ever and Kelly Kapoor from the Office.

Indian men are almost always portrayed as robotics engineers and computer whizzes, but with terrible social intellect, making them seem like awkward nerds.

Indian women are almost always portrayed as "whitewashed", or wanting to appear more western, with zero understanding of their own culture or language along with an unrelenting need for attention from white friends/colleagues.

These are both based on stereotypes that Indian culture is "toxic" and "too traditional" and that Indians are only interested in studies.

Most Desi characters in western media have stories that are solely based around their ethnicity and/or racial stereotypes.

British television actually showcases a lot more representation than Hollywood does

I was watching Polite Society, a movie starring two Pakistani characters as the main leads, and there was a dance scene where both the leads are wearing traditional desi attire. My mom turned over, looked at me, and asked, "Is this Hollywood? It can't be."

And she was right. It's a British movie with British-Pakistani actors.

The reason she didn't believe that it could've been Hollywood was because the dresses the two leads were wearing were traditional and beautiful and the song playing in the background was authentic Hindi music, not some random westernized DJ version of it.

A Hollywood movie would've never dressed up their Desi actors in actually flattering attire (*cough cough the Patel twins from Harry Potter) or have used real, popular Desi music in the background.

You see my point?

It is so uncommon to see well-thought-out Desi representation in TV nowadays, where to see real diversity we have to watch movies made by the same country that colonized us.

Ironic.

British movies/shows with desi leads have far better South Asian representation than anything I've seen in Hollywood recently.

The Hollywood movies starring Indian leads, like Slumdog Millionaire or Bend it like Beckham were filmed in the UK, and because they were filmed in the UK, they had fantastic South Asian representation.

Not only does Hollywood refuse to create shows and movies about real problems that South Asians face, but they also don't cast South Asian actors in good roles.

When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that wasn't a walking stereotype? When's the last time you saw a South Asian actor playing a character that was a genuine part of the story rather than just comedic relief or a random smart kid in the classroom?

Not often, right?

Me, personally, I didn't grow up with a lot of South Asian characters or actors in shows/movies that I watched. In fact, every time someone even close to my skin color showed up on TV, I was on the edge of my seat because it was just so rare to see it.

This is why representation matters.

You've heard about all the young girls with braids being so excited when the new little mermaid with Halle Bailey came out. Well, us desi kids wanted that too.

I wanted to see a Telugu speaking girl with wavy hair and dark skin who would wear traditional clothing to Desi get-togethers and parties, go to the temple with her family, eat vegetarian Indian meals, etc...

I wanted to see a character who was a representation of me and my experiences as an Indian-American. I wanted to see a character that was at least a representation of Indians or just South Asians in general.

Instead, we were given characters that ridiculed their own culture, were extreme stereotypes and furthered the existence of casual racism in western society today. So many Desi kids experience small acts of racism on a daily basis because people have been so desensitized to the existence of these stereotypes.

Telling South Asians that their culture is a joke and feeding non-asian children media which pokes fun at other cultures is harmful, not only to us South Asians but also communities that could end up being targeted next.

Pavitr Prabhakar; Representation Matters

If you've been following me or if we're mutuals, you probably know I have a tiny obsession with Pavitr Prabhakar. But why?

Because of all the reasons I just listed.

There are few South Asian characters us Desis can look up to these days, and Pavitr Prabhakar is one of the maybe two or three characters who have great writing, magnificent representation, and overall a fun vibe.

He's likable, funny, smart and best of all, unapologetically Desi.

He's just like all the other side characters, with a little bit of his own culture mixed in. He's not being shoved down our throats to further an agenda about fake diversity, he's not a walking stereotype and best of all, he was designed by Indian creators.

He's refreshing and exciting to follow in a world full of a demand for half-hearted representations and the people who created him were obviously putting their hearts and souls into it.

He's awoken a love for Indian culture amongst, not only Desi children themselves but also among westerners who, prior to this, had thought of India as a "3rd world" country, because that's the agenda that Hollywood pushes onto many South Asian countries today.

WE LOVE PAVITR PRABHAKAR!!

This was kinda all over the place but I just had to get this off my chest <3

Sources:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/06/10/discrimination-against-indian-americans-happens-more-than-you-might-think/

[spaceasianmillennial]

SUFFS Notes: So I've seen both the off-Broadway and Broadway version

2 years earlier, I experienced the Public version of Suffs (before Hillary Clinton and Malala Yousafzai got producer credits). I even own two press scripts.

The Broadway Suffs opening is "Let Mother Vote" and oh I did fell in love with this opening because of how well it established the Carrie's conservative formation and showed us just how seductive it can be. I also kinda miss the older version that opened with woman and non-binary performers dressed as anti-suffrage men making all these awful anti-suffs slogans. By dressing up as the patriachy, these women and non-binary actors really own the story. The Broadway version has less emphasis on ensemble anti-suffs.

Anyone who has seen the Broadway version know that President Woodrow Wilson (Grace McLean) can't stop singing about "Ladies" and their proper domestic place. Now the off-Broadway run has an comedic ironic payoff to this. President Wilson suddenly gets a chest pain, a stroke, and it is a silly moment (I remember the entire theatre laughing hard). We see a few blackouts of him suffering, and SUDDENLY COSTUME CHANGE, Grace McLean is standing there in a black dress, now playing First Lady Edith Wilson, who took up "Stewardship" when her husband was disabled by his stroke. So Edith starts signing some of his paperwork, ("tariff reform, YOUR FAVORITE") and she runs into a paper that says, "Support for Ratification of the Suffrage Amendment." The stage direction indicates she might be on the "verge of epiphany," and she wonders if she should support it, but then she's like "Absolutely NO!" and rips it. It's a funny way of indicating that just because a First Lady has a Presidential role, that doesn't mean she has empathy for women's rights.

I can see why they cut from the Public, but I do miss the silly transformation sequence of President Wilson‘s stroke and Edith Wilson’s stewardship. (Just cause a First Lady got handed power, doesn’t mean she’s gonna save you.)

One striking change is more conspicuous racial stratification in the cast whereas Aisha de Haas, a Black actor, played the white socialite/Tennessee mother at the Public. Light-skinned BIPOC play white characters, and the Broadway script/direction nods a little more when a dark-skinned BIPOC is in a white role.

For example, in the Broadway version, a Black Tsilala Brock plays the white Irish Dudley and President Wilson utters the lines, "honest for an Irishman!" to bring deliberate attention to the race-bent casting.

Also, the Filipino actress Jaygee Macapugay plays the white Mollie Hay. When Wilson says, "The south will never let ladies vote, let alone colored ladies, thank God," he condescendingly takes Mollie Hay by the waist and Jaygee scrunches this deliberately astonished expression at "colored ladies."

The Broadway version cuts out verses of an anonymous Chinese American suffrage who brought her baby to a march. So I went to the Broadway SUFFS with a Black woman seatmate (who never caught the older version) and she felt the musical didn't directly address other suffrage ethnicities outside of white women and Black women. Yes, there is a diversity of BIPOC people playing white suffrages in both versions (and other backgrounders of color are somewhat suggestive of unnamed suffrages of color who did exist), but now there's no longer a direct acknowledgment of Asian suffrages.

The Broadway did some good work to add a sequence of Inez Milholland (Hannah Cruz) working herself to the bone and exhausting herself across states, with a succession of banners signaling another location, leading to her tragic death. It hits way harder than the off-Broadway version (where Phillipa Soo played Inez).

The Broadway version of Suffs tightened some of the numbers. For example, "When We Are Married/If We Are Married" were separate private moments. The Broadway version combined them and juxtaposition the kisses between the heterosexual Dudley and Doris Stevens ("When We Are Married") with the clandestine lesbian Mollie Hay and Carrie Chapman Catt ("IF We Were Married").

Mollie and Carrie did not kiss in the older iteration. So the script goes from Mollie and Carrie "They want to kiss, but there are people around" to "both couples kiss." A moment where Mollie tells Carrie, "Carrie, it's getting late. Come upstairs" (a major hint of their relationship) was also not in the off-Broadway version.

[forthegothicheroine]

Do you have any thoughts about how to do fascism in Arthuriana? Like partially inspired by T.H. White I was thinking of writing Lucius as a sort of combination of a 30s Dictator and the crusading ideal that you get in Medieval literature, which of course looks quite repugnant by today's standards.

I've been turning this over in my head for a few days as it's a very interesting question! To start, let me talk about two versions that did it to different ends.

As you mentioned, in The Once and Future King, Mordred becomes a Hitler (or British fascist) analogue, and predicates his rise to power on persecuting Jews and Moors. I wasn't sure how I felt about this at first, but after thinking it over, I realized that World War II was the defining trauma of White's generation, and if he's going to write about a political faction destroying Britain and plunging it into apocalyptic war, how could they not be fascists? (Plus I got a fanfic out of it.)

On the other hand, in the 2004 King Arthur movie, which I actually overall enjoyed, they made Cerdic the Saxon their fascist villain. He orders all the Celtic women killed so that his men won't breed with them and produce more of their disgusting race...which, if you know anything about the Saxon invasion, is more or less the opposite of how it went. It's like a darker version of the 'tightlacing into dresses without waists' scene in Bridgerton- I'm not a stickler for historical accuracy, but I need it to at least make sense in the world that's being presented to me on screen.

So, what's the deal with fascism? I'll let Umberto Eco give the greater picture, but when I think of fascist villains, I think of three things- an "us" who is great, a "them" who are simultaneously weak and strong, and a mythic "good old days" that never really existed. Given that Arthuriana is a mishmash of time periods and ethnic groups as it is, you have a lot to choose from, both in terms of making it make sense in universe, and in terms of it feeling resonant to a 21st century reader.

If Lucius is your villain (a good choice, I think, he's not used as much as he could be) then you're positioning the "us" as either Rome or Italy. I say "either" because Malory et al had him as an anachronistic Roman emperor, but the Squires Tales series made the interesting choice of him being an Italian prince styling himself the modern Caesar. I'm not Italian, but I think this is something that politicians from Mussolini to Berlusconi have tried to position themselves as to some extent, so I think there's room to explore there.

If "us" is Rome, then "them" must be wherever they're trying to conquer. If you've ever played Fallout New Vegas, the Cosplay Roman Fascists there have "The West" as their enemy, with speeches about how they're doing a great job unifying all the disparate tribes but are hindered by the "degenerates" of the NCR and New Vegas. There are certainly tribes to go around in the British isles, any of which could be your "them" or your "future us, once then kneel." The good old days were the height of the Empire, of course, and depending on whether your Lucius is a Catholic or a Roman pagan, he can call upon a huge history of grandiose mythology to support himself.

If Mordred is your villain, then both his mythic past and his "us" could harken back to the glory days of King Uther, back when the Britons were strong against the Saxons and kings were revered for their might, not their codes of honor. The song Fie on Goodness in Camelot is dark comedy because nobody really talks like that about themselves- but they could voice the same sentiments in different language. "Them" could be Jews and Moors as in T. H. White, but you can pick any influence from the Picts to the Gauls as the simultaneously weak and strong enemy who turned Arthur into a man too soft to lead.

"Uther was a barbarian because he stole another man's wife," Mordred might say, "but Arthur claims to be civilized because he gives his away!"

And then there's that old medieval standbye- the crusades. Just what the hell time period Arthuriana takes place in changes with the writer, but having your villain either outright be a Crusader King or modeling him on one would give you a chilling model to work with. Slaughter and pillage all who get in your way, and you can justify it with ideology. Send every available one of your own men and boys to their deaths and you can do the same. And if the war never ends, so much the better, as your wartime powers never go away.

Thank you for this question, and I'll be very eager to see what you come up with!

[gamerpup1]

twink alert

[{Character(“Herbert West”)

Alias(“Herbert”)

Gender(“Transgender male”)

Age(“28")

Sexuality(“Gay" + “Attracted to men” + “Only attracted to men” + “Asexual”)

Height(“5’7”)

Language(“English" + “German”)

Status(“Single” + “Interested in {{user}}”)

Occupation(“College student at Miskatonic University" + “Studying medical science” + “Unemployed”)

Personality(“Mad scientist" + “Obsessive” + “Socially inept” + “Determined” + “Stubborn” + “Intelligent” + “Pessimistic” + “Realistic” + “Focused” + “Capable” + “Autistic” + “On the autism spectrum” + “Confident” + “Narcissist” + “Quiet” + “Odd” + “Weird” + “Curious” + “Daring” + “Educated” + “Grumpy” + “Firm” + “Hardworking” + “Independent” + “Touch starved” + “Knowledgeable” + “Meticulous” + “Logical” + “Observant” + “Impatient” + “Perfectionist” + “Rational” + “Scholarly” + “Sarcastic” + “Ambitious” + “Outspoken” + “Reserved” + “Stern” + “Strict” + “Tsundere” + “Blunt” + “Calculating” + “Charmless” + “Devious” + “Arrogant” + “Snarky”)

Skills(“Intelligent” + “Knowledgable” + “Scientific expertise” + “Attempting to raise the dead with his reagent” + “Knows a lot about medicine” + “Knows a lot about chemistry” + “Knows a lot about science” + “Knows a lot about death”)

Appearance("Skinny" + “Short” + “Geometric glasses” + “Can't see well without his glasses” + “Oversized black coat” + “Black tie” + “White dress shirt” + “Black jeans” + “Black dress shoes” + “White socks” + “Soft, pink lips” + “Soft hands” + “Thin fingers” + “Mole above lip to the left” + “Short, messy, black hair” + “Smile lines” + “Sleeves are often rolled up” + “Transgender scars” + “Top surgery scars” + “Small amounts of body hair”)

Habit(“Interrupts people if they're wrong about something” + “Studying death” + “Messing with his reagent” + “Attempting to raise the dead” + “Rolling his eyes” + “Glancing at watch” + “Tapping his foot when impatient” + “Glaring at people” + “Furrowing his brows” + “Making snarky comments” + “Being sarcastic” + “Messing with his pencil” + “Staying inside” + “Never leaving the house”)

Race(“Human”)

Likes("Being smarter than everyone else” + “Studying” + “{{user}}” + “His reagent” + “The color green” + “The color neon green” + “Science” + “Being right” + “Staying inside” + “Quiet spaces” + “Non-fiction books” + “Books” + “Learning” + “Studying death” + “Autumn” + “Cold weather” + “Sweets” + “Fast food” + “Silence” + “Tea” + “Coffee” + “Being by himself” + “Alone time” + “Recognition” + “Dark rooms” + “Brief affection from {{user}}” + “{{user}}’s pecs”)

Dislikes("Stupid teachers" + “Loud areas” + “Bright lights” + “Going outside” + “The sun” + “Cats” + “Not receiving attention from {{user}}” + “Fiction” + “Large groups” + “Group projects” + “Rejection” + “Heights” + “Being wrong” + “Criticism” + “Bigots” + “Politics” + “Being sick”)

Relationships("Dead parents” + “Alive grandma” + “Dead grandpa” + “Interested in {{user}}” + “Strangers with {{user}}”)

Ethnicity("White”)

Residence(“Homeless” + “Wants to set up a lab in {{user}}’s basement”)

Setting(“Set during the 1980s")

Attributes(“Autistic" + “On the autism spectrum” + “Intelligent” + “Observant” + “Love language is acts of service” + “Pretends to not like physical affection” + “Interrupts people if they're wrong about something” + “Finds {{user}} attractive and interesting” + “Practices his reagent on dead bodies” + “Seems to only care about his reagent” + “Not scared of {{user}}” + “Only tolerates {{user}}” + “Bad at socializing”)

Backstory("After the death of Herbert's parents, he began to study his reagent and test it on various dead animals in the neighborhood while he lived with his grandmother. Noted as a strange kid, Herbert spent most of his childhood alone with his reagent, something that he believes could prevent death. 

He ended up qualifying for an apprenticeship with Doctor Gruber, a well-known doctor in Germany. After the death of Doctor Gruber, Herbert was sent to Miskatonic University to continue his studies in the medical field.")}]

[haven-flare]

Wanted to give my two cents on the whole wuwa character design. The person saying that having distinct facial feature is not aspiring or interesting needs to watch their wording especially towards POCs.

Most game always suffer from same face syndrome. This is mostly prominent with the females. No matter what a distinct a character looks like with their hair color or eyes. You plaster them on another character they practically identical. Genshin Impact and League of Legends suffer this big time.

Genshin Impact

(Link to where I got the first 4 images: https://m.hoyolab.com/#/article/11600510)

League of Legends

Besides their face ornaments you would believe these are all the same characters right? Nope! They are all different characters.

This is just for a skinline. When compared with the other female characters og skinline they still have all the same faces.

As far as I know the males have distinct facial features.

https://www.tumblr.com/freyito/751527973863178240/i-need-people-to-appreciate-calcharos-nose-bump?source=share

Same person has point out that Taoqi is a thicker than most of the female girls and I agree. Look at the comparison.

Small things like these make the game interesting and unique. Ethnic features and facial differences are important to everyone because it makes the character feel unique and we can relate them physical.

Not everyone is going to have the same eye shape, lips, nose, and mouth. But society excepts us to have the same feature and shuns/discriminates those who lack them or chose to embrace their features.

Which is why character creation games like Baldur's Gate, Elden Ring, Sims 4, and Cyberpunk allows players to adjust and modify their character to look like them so they won't feel like they need look a certain way.

Sorry for the rant. That post really trigger me.

First of all, thanks for sharing your thoughts. A rant it may be, but it was really interesting! Mainly because I didn't think about it from this angle before, but now that you mention it, it's so obvious :9

As a person of color myself, it is a little disheartening when non-white characters look the same but with a different shade of skin, lmao.

I don't play LoL, and haven't actually seen anything about it at all, so I hadn't seen this, though it doesn't surprise me. It's a common joke that women have less variety in their designs than men, and it gets pointed out a lot.

It's mostly modern anime poisoning or something, it's in the water I swear. Where it's just the same character but different colors and personality...

About the Genshin vs Wuwa thing, I agree that the comment of "faces" not being enough seems almost... insensitive? I don't know how to describe it, but I get it. They are so focused in the intricate clothing of Genshin and the large amount of accessories and at the same time disregard what actually matters when it comes to uniqueness, lol.

(In my eyes, clothing in character design, doesn't have to be incredibly decorated, it can be either way as long as it portrays accurately the character that's wearing them. So that whole argument is moot to me, since it's just a matter of stylistic choices and how you wish to portray an environment, etc, etc.)

Meanwhile, the fact that Genshin only uses like two bases for their characters feels like they've streamlined their design production to pull out 'bangers' each time. Just dressing up the same doll each time, changing out the wig and repainting their faces. I still like some designs from them, but it's clear they don't put much effort in the actual body of the character LMAO, they just let the fancy colors and accessories do the talking.

Anyways, hopefully we get more characters with more unique traits instead of some outfit change, both in Wuthering Waves, and in other franchises.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Worldbuilding: !@#$ the terfs, be more creative with gender and bio sex than a binary system.

9.5 times out of ten the majority of gender systems I read in US books are really, really uncreative, and I do mean that because manga, has more creative gender systems than a lot of US books. I love you Melanie Rawn, but still, the inversion as good as it was in the uncompleted Ruins of Ambrai, still was largely a European system because it was largely a commentary on the European system. (Yes, I did understand that.)

And the US tends to, very much accuse other countries of having uncreative gender systems that are absolutely rigid, say the US to Japan. (Though the usually [white] understanding of Japanese gender is usually abysmal... but that's a whole paper and a half there.)

When building a gender system, be more creative! You have this other fake culture. You can do whatever the heck you feel like. Say, the Barbie Movie, which hilariously the alt-right USian detested, though it still was a commentary on mostly US gender norms.

Can't we loosen this up a little? You have literal aliens and you can't imagine a more creative sex and gender system than the binary? Oh really? Humans aren't even binary on either. I'm going to give cultural examples.

Introduction

Bugis have 5 genders.

BTW, someone got so mad when I pointed out the page they cited said that Bugis recognized 5 genders, they went on a youtube rant about it. lol Deal. BTW, people put a lot of emphasis on Bissu like how people hyperfocus on trans women in the US because masculinity is that fragile. Albanian is complicated.

Some countries/ethnicities have 3.

India has a 3 gender system in Northern India. Women, men, Hijra

I mean this list:

Some countries don’t even define the two gender system the same way (Europeans are sooo uptight. Loosen up.)

For example, a Korean man wearing pink--no problem. No one flips the hell out when a man in Korea wears a hanbok with a chima and a jeogori. They are like cool. He can do as he likes. Even baksu wear chima in religious ceremonies. They believe it gives them extra powers.

The whole pants. are. for. men. and. women. only. wear. skirts.

Oh c'mon...

Pants were invented for horseback riding--like the heel.

So let's get this mind-numbingly straight (pun somewhat intended here) Men, are men because of horses. (haha, yes, Barbie reference), thus have to wear pants. But are absolutely effing forbidden from wearing heels, which are also associated with what? Horseback riding. Hmmm...

And men still wear dresses and skirts, but they call it by other names.

Judicial robes for sale, and look, a man is wearing them.

But--But that's soo different from a dress...

https://www.net-a-porter.com/en-jp/shop/product/la-doublej/clothing/maxi-dresses/muumuu-printed-silk-twill-maxi-dress/38063312420399795

This is a dress because as Webster's Dictionary says:

: an outer garment (as for a woman or girl) usually consisting of a one-piece bodice and skirt

Yes, it's worn by a woman. I couldn't find another definition.

But men also wear sarongs. And bath towels, and kilts all of which look suspiciously like skirts. And togas. Which shows how fragile the definition is that you need to narrow the definition that much.

And freaking for those religious, God on the Sistine Chapel, by suspected maybe gay Michelangelo, has a vaccuum sealed butt on the Sistine chapel wearing a pink dress.

C'mon, we can be more creative than this, surely. I mean, if you look at this super rigid gender system, does it make any sense at all? OK, I'm NB and all, but seriously, I look at it and go, WTF happened to you?

You get so uptight about men wearing lace, stocking, high heels, dresses, pink but forget so quickly that less than 200 years ago, no one gave a damn, and if a man didn't wear those things, he couldn't make it in high society.

I mean...

Lafayette, wearing pink, heels, stockings, lace (his collar), and a wig. Give me a break here.

And gender definitions change over time...

Just about 100 years back, in order to be out and gay, it was thought your entire gender was different. There was nothing like a butch gay man. You were considered part female, in fact. And no one in the 19th century would have taken exception to that. It didn't change until much later in Europe.

But also Europe imperialized the world with gender expectations, leading to a rise of violence against third gender communities.

What was one of the first three rules of culture I posted? Culture changes. Koreans like to say, even in ten years the Mountains and rivers change. So gender can and will also change in definitions becoming more rigid, more fluid, recategorized, etc over time.

So given all of these things... let's rethink gender.

Gender doesn't have to be Defined by Sex Assigned at Birth

A lot of Human cultures assign gender this way. Born one way, raise them that way, hope it works out.

But you have a whole FANTASY WORLD and you can see, humans don't make a lot of logical sense when it comes to gender. I mean heels are for women, and men should never wear them, except when they are attached to boots, but the boots better not be too high , or you're *gasp* gay is the European "logic" system. And only what? 50 or so years ago, women were finally allowed to wear pants.

So you don't have to do it by genitals. You could do it by hair color. Gender affirming care would be changing your hair color, or horns, or whatever tickles your fancy. You could, say have a cephlapod species with smaller males that can present female part of the time, and based on their texture of their skin, that's their gender.

You could do it by color--the species has actually blue, dark blue, green, yellow, etc skin colors and they can change them at any moment and the one they tend towards, well, that's their gender.

You could also make it so you automatically need a polycule for the species to work out and reproduce. And thus there might be, say a 6 gender system. 2 possible genders for the three adults there.

C'mon. Nature is creative and sometimes has an all female species. Look at Mourning geckos. There are so few males, and they are sometimes called a lesbian species of gecko.

Even then, you have intersex, and not all intersex people are infertile.

Terfs only think it's wrong to "go against nature" when it has to do with gender presentation. Nothing else. But they have no, no problem with assigning a sex to an intersex child without their consent. That's culture taking over for nature. And how that is shaped, or not shaped, absolutely belongs in world building.

If your men aren't horseback riding, and your women aren't either, then dresses for all are fine. Deal with it.

I think it would be entertaining to see an alien species determine the gender of the child by holding up paint swatches to the child's say eyes and then saying, "Yep, a girl."

Or even well, the birther stayed in # temp rooms, for # amount of days, Oh, this is the expected sex of the child. But the gender, well, we will determine that by these [arbitrary] factors.

But seriously, you can define gender and sex however, you want. Is medical/magic intervention necessary or not? Who gets to determine it?

Next step is to find the rules for how gender is expressed in an idealized world.

Do you constantly call all of your girls and tell them they can grow up to be a princess? But tell all your boys they are going to grow up to be doctors and lawyers?

This is what Social Scientists would call socialization.

For this, I would suggest you make a spreadsheet and then put down arbitrary lists of things the "ideal" gender would wear. So for the US, Pink is for girls. Blue is for boys. How they should act. And finally, how they are taught.

It's so ubiquitous that even feminists often trip up and see a baby in a pink dress with lace and automatically pick up a doll. (I'm just saying, maybe think that one over a bit.)

Make a list for each column. And then for the individual characters figure out how they DON'T fit those norms and then terrorize them with it...

What do you threaten the privileged group with if they come out of line?

For men in the US, for example, you go with homophobia. "That's gay."

Because the threat of being gay is sooo outlandish. *eyeroll* It's an threat to everything masculine.

I'll go over this in more detail later in the series, but you need things to discipline the privileged group and the disadvantage group(s). What's the threat if you become this other group? Death? Social ridicule? Financial loss? Being outcast?

Or, do you get rewarded and become a shaman, a healer, or a celebrated hero for being able to not fit in? (This also is possible).

Cultural justifications

Cultural justifications for this are different from the actual historical reasons or the facts.

The historical reason that pink and blue switched was because dyes became more readily available for both and they felt like it.

Blue used to be more rare, and thus considered "virginal" because blue is rare in nature, but under industrialization as people became more and more disconnected from nature, and blue dyes became available, the idea of this became more diluted, and the switch was from blue to pink.

That's not what the cultural justifications were for this thought originally. The thought was that blue was a more "delicate" color, clearly more suited to women.

Because, if you have forgotten (yes a joke coming), humans constantly get amnesia on where things come from. Constantly. We've lost information in your own lifetime. You were born 2 seconds ago? Well, I hate to tell you, we've lost information in that 2 seconds.

So, when they can't remember the reason, Humans make up a reason to go with it, that's often frivolous and silly. Something that feels, what? Natural to them. Though remember the rule, Nature gives no fucks. So find and make up a logical reason for the cultural item and then find a stupid reason that people are willing to double down on it and there you go, that's culture. So say your species of aliens, the ones that are temperature linked to sex, link Iunno, gender to horn size. Bigger horns mean a certain class of gender. The original reason might be that bigger horned females are better at digging nests back when they were a pastoral society, thus better able to have larger clutches of children. But they've now reached the stars, so they completely forgot why and now just say that bigger horns are simply sexier because reasons. Or it could have flipped that smaller horns are in more demand, because big horns get in the way of industrial tasks, but no one says that. And now the bigger horned females, are considered a lower gender than the smaller horned females, who then raise all of the eggs.

See, the justification doesn't even have to follow any sort of logic. It's what they tell everyone to make them feel better.

And truthfully, a lot of culture is built this way. The reason you tell everyone isn't really the actual truth. I mean I did a whole series on Story Structure, and the justifications versus the reasons why it was made that way don't even close to match. People blindly parrot what other people tell them if it will help them succeed. (BTW, not saying I'm not guilty of this, I absolutely am.)

So I think this gives you a good basis to free yourself up for a larger system and be more creative with your gender definitions. Because absolutely both gender and sex are defined by culture, but in different ways.

You have effing demons, and you can come up with a more creative gender categories? You have unicorns and you don't have more creative gender categories. And you have kracken climbing buildings, but you can't imagine a third sex category for them when it absolutely exists in nature. C'mon. Hit me with your most creative and free yourself of your own culture's definitions of gender.

What if you nuked the entire Male/female/NB system. What would that look like? How would you justify it on two fronts? Blow that system out of the water and rework it. What would the Sexual orientation work like with a 3 sexes, 2 gender for each each system?

What stupid prohibitions would you put in for such a system?

[appledashbitch]

rainbow dash human headcanons wooo!! (going to be mad long j a warning)

she is 19. i actually do not like the idea of her being short/average height! I see her as ab 5’9 so tall but not taller than applejack duh

she is def very thin but toned!! she just zooms around toooo much for me to think she’s jacked 😢 i HIGHLY dislike it when people use bra sizes as a guide bc they vary so much depending on the band sizes. she is flat chested like let’s be real here. i also j LOVE this idea of rarity basically forcing her do to modeling for her fashion designs bc of her proportions and because everyone loves rarity she will do it just for her 😏

ethnically i like the idea of her being hispanic & white, was thinking along the lines of colombian or cuban?? and then i feel like the white would be italian, specifically having an italian mom bc they are something! skintone i see her as very tan. naturally and due to being outdoors allll the time

it’s time to discuss the classic one.. what is rainbow dash’s sexuality? my idea is she would only ever date a girl because she is literally a gay horse but BUT she is not opposed to getting w/ men. this is because she is kind of a slut! i just see her having a higher libido and not giving a fuck about being “ran through” bc she knows it’s all misogynistic bullshit. i also feel like she ends up getting w/ a lot of her friends bc she is just that bitch. definitely twilight, rarity, pinkie, & aj. no fluttershy bc she sees her as the sister she never had.

appearance-wise she mainly wears shorts, jeans kinda like a levi’s 501, crop tops and sweats. she will dress up depending on the occasion. she is obsessed with converse for sure. she has a bunch of ear piercings and three big tattoos. one of them is ofc a pair of wings on her back, then lightning bolts under one ribcage and clouds under the other. in general she is very pretty and she in fact cares a lot about her appearance. she keeps her hair about armpit length because she feels more traditionally feminine that way, and she keeps it up all the time. i’m thinking naturally light brown hair and blue eyes and she would eventually bleach her hair and dye it rainbow.

she has ADHD, PTSD, and seasonal depression, with the PTSD and seasonal depression stemming from a major car accident she was in at 14 that killed both of her parents and severely injured her. she kinda “copes” with it by smoking a ton of weed during the off season from soccer since she wouldn’t want to test positive for any drugs & she just for sure has a thing for beer and cider. scotch if she wants to get really fucked up

last but not least, applejack ❤️ she has had a crush on applejack for FOREVER and after they drunkenly hookup AJ begins to see her in this way.

okay that’s it! that’s my dashie. i feel like there’s a LOT of potential for fanfic writing with all of these headcanons so we’ll see how it goes