There’s always a pause right before someone says my name. I close my eyes, breathing my last gulp of air as a nameless student. Then it comes, the dreaded snarl of romanticized Korean, pulled and stretched like old gum on a shoe. Snickers erupt amidst the class, and I give the substitute a few more tries before I interrupt with an apologetic smile. I give her a clean, unbroken name that doesn’t sound so discordant on colonized lips, but I can’t scrub the air and make the mangled version of my name disappear.

When we split into groups, a pink and alabaster girl takes one look at me and says, “You can do the powerpoint, right? You’re smart; I bet you can do this whole project yourself.”
I know an order when I see one, and I obey instead of quietly answering that it’s rude to assume that the Asian girl can do anything to save abysmal grades.

(Test Question #4: would an Asian girl sacrifice her own grades to bring down the slackers with her? Explain.
Answer: no. An Asian girl, let alone a Korean one, barely has enough spine to fit her whole body. Her culture demands it).

My so-called friends talk in hushed tones at the cafeteria while I sit and chew the sandwich my mother made me. Sundried tomatoes and mozzarella cheese. Seeded bread, no crusts.
“I don’t know, she doesn’t seem like a lesbian to me.”
“Right, like you’d know what lesbians look like?”
“How’d her parents take it?”
I take another bite. Pesto sauce sticks my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
“They’re forcing her to some kind of camp. Can’t say I envy her.”
“What did you expect? You know what our parents are like.”
A sigh of sympathy goes around the table.
“It just doesn’t make sense. She liked boys before. I’ve read cases like this; no one suddenly turns into a lesbian overnight.”
“Whatever, just as long as she doesn’t start staring at me across the street windows.”

I push my chair back from the table, and a dozen girls that look like me (but not like me) swivel their heads.
“Bisexuality exists, you know.” I remark casually.
Throwing away the sandwich feels like I’m emptying a tray at prison, with the eyes of wary wardens on my back.

(Test Question #44: can a Korean girl be bi?
Answer: She must marry a boy with good connections and a well-paying job, produce healthy, precocious children, and must enjoy this role even if she sees an obsidian woman who has sunlight in her eyes and warmth in her smile).

He doesn’t call me or text me. We communicate in a different language of romance: academics. I gripe about my responsibilities, he’s always there to placate me, and we tutor each other in the subject we each excel in. A balanced scale.

“It’s not coincidence that Pearl brings back the letter to her. She’s grown so associated with her mother carrying that A on her chest that she brings it back. In a way, Pearl’s unconsciously acting as the Puritan society that condemned Hester.”
“So she’s absorbed prejudices aided by the environment she lives in. That’s some real life osmosis.”
“How many times do you have to bring in biology during analysis time?”
“But it’s fun. It makes you petulant and cute.”
“Nice save.”
“It’s also funny to see because you don’t look like someone who hates science and math.”
“You know, glasses, brunette, good grades.”
“I have a B minus in Bio.”
“Exactly my point! It’s so ironic.”
“That I’m a bad Asian?”

(Test Question #444: put a white boy and a Korean-American girl together. What kind of reaction would you see?
Answer: inevitabile repulsion).

My mother says to come over. Sharp lines define her hollow cheekbones, and her cinnamon-colored hair sits on her head in an elegant bun. With my hair as black as a frying pan and cheeks as round as apples, we’re a striking contrast. She has her tablet with her and the faces of my grandmother and my aunt swim in front of the screen. They ask me about school, if I’ve lost any weight, and whether I’ve met any boys.

“When you graduate, we’ll go to the new plastic surgeon here! He’s very good, so many stars here went to him…”
“You’ve grown so tan! Better put more lotion on, you don’t want to lose that great paleness you have.”

I nod, a bobble head with a glazed smile on her lips. Behind my smile, I hide the fact that I’ve lost credibility with my Algebra teacher, gained three pounds, and that the boy I’ve loved stabbed me in the back.

(Test Question #444.4: can a Korean-Asian-American girl ever tell the truth?
Answer: See #44).

There’s a girl who looks like me, but not like me. Her vowels dip and her consonants break, and her fingers twitch nervously on her quilted pencil case. Her name taints the air when the teacher introduces her to us, and the people around me giggle. When class ends, the people part from her path like she’s one of the Sonnimne. She sits at a single table in the cafeteria, slowly picking her lunch apart. A couple of boys from the table behind her mime eating a dog. One of them selects a yellow highlighter from his pencil case and starts painting on his skin, and the boys start to laugh.

The girl starts and then trembles, as she realizes I’m walking towards her. I breeze past her, smiling at the boys.
“What’s so funny?”
The laughter dies from the table. The boys start blustering they’re participating in a play, and I just silently stand there until they run out of excuses. They mumble a half-hearted apology and retreat to the sandwich line.

I steal one of their chairs and drag it over to the girl’s table. I open my lunchbox, snap open the wooden chopsticks, and offer her a small roll of sushi. She looks at it like it’s a time bomb.
“My mother makes them, and they taste great. I don’t give a damn about anyone who thinks it’s cliche.”
The girl smiles.

(Test Question #4444: would a Korean-Asian-American girl help another like her?
Answer: No. I, on the other hand, would).
—  KOREAN (?) AMERICAN || k.k.

It wasn’t until the second month when Ruby’s guilt started kicking back in again. 2 months of fighting in Haven, desperately looking for leads to where Cinder had taken refuge in. These past few months were painful to her, and she was sure that she wasn’t the only one suffering. She remembered Yang— her beloved sister that had raised her and protected her all these years, the figure Ruby had looked up to; the girl who never backed down and retaliated harder than the force that pushed her down. All that passion, all that fire in her eyes died that moment when Blake ran away. Ruby wondered if Yang was still cooped up at Patch, brooding over the event that separated team RWBY. Yang never did respond when Ruby had said ‘I love you’ before she left.

It wasn’t fair. They were just children looking hopeful about the future. They were supposed to fight Grimm, the enemy of mankind. Hunters and Huntresses were supposed to protect the innocent from dark monsters like Grimm, not protect them from their own kind. 2 months without any leads to where Cinder was, were months where Team RNJR had properly bonded.

The subsequent months had opened up their eyes to the truth. The world wasn’t all black and white like how they had perceived it to be. The remains of Team JNPR were maturing and honing their skills. Months spent outside of the Academy was years spent inside Beacon Academy. They had learnt new skills, trained their semblances and more importantly, helped Jaune find use in his semblance. To say the least, his semblance was very useful. He shielded them from harms way more often than Ruby could count. If it weren’t for Jaune, they wouldn’t have made it this far.

The next to change were their appearances. Their clothings were getting tattered and torn thanks to the countless of battles Team RNJR had flung themselves to. They didn’t bother to trim their hair, instead letting it grow long. They really had no use in fussing over trivial things like those on the battlefield. In time, Team RNJR was far more coordinated than when Team RWBY was separated.

By the sixth month, Ruby started pondering about her team once again. How were the monochrome duo doing? She had asked around for Blake, but none of her friends claimed to have seen her. Of course, the world had been thrown into chaos, who would have the time to set out and find Blake when the Faunus herself didn’t want to be found?

The last person she worried about was Weiss. Quite frankly, Ruby tried to avoid thinking about the Ice Queen. For reasons unknown to her, thinking about Weiss made her heart clench. Unlike Blake or Yang, Ruby had no idea of Weiss’ whereabouts. The last time she saw the heiress was when she left the alabaster haired girl to fight the masses of Grimm. Time and time again, Ruby berated herself for leaving her partner to solo the hordes of Grimm. If her partner was hurt, it would have been Ruby’s fault. In fact, Ruby took the hardest fall when Team RWBY split up. No matter what others told her, she felt that she could’ve done better, held them together longer. She held onto the belief that she could have prevented it. Ruby felt that she had disappointed Ozpin; she was a terrible leader after all. She didn’t know what Ozpin saw in her. Hell, she didn’t understand how her teammates trusted her orders.

Team RNJR had saved many lives during their time in Haven. Although they couldn’t save everyone, they did the best they could.

At the end of the day, Team RNJR had come to an end.

“I’m thinking of heading to Atlas.” Ruby had finally said after a long pause of silence.

“Atlas? What about Haven! Cinder is here, right?” Jaune exclaimed. It was true, they still had not progressed in their search for Cinder. It had been 6 months since they arrived in Haven.

“I know, but what if this lead was to throw us off? Besides, I… I need to make it up to Yang. I’m thinking about g-getting her a p-p-prosthetic arm..” Truth to be told, she had no idea if Yang even wanted to fight again. Ruby had planned on it being a surprise, but was scared of the outcome. What if Yang hated her even more?

“I see… You’ve told Yang about your plan?” Jaune nodded in understanding. It was natural after all. Even though they had spent months together as Team RNJR, he knew fully well that Ruby’s heart belonged to Team RWBY.

“Not yet. I plan on telling her soon though..” Ruby rubbed the back of her head sheepishly.

“You should go, we need all the teams available if we were to stop Cinder and her plan.” Ren spoke up beside her.

“That’s right! Then together we could be Team RWBYJPR!” Nora grinned, “Though we could use a serious name change.. Anyway! Go get’em, Rubbles!”

The rest of Team RNJR chuckled lightly at Nora’s antics.

Ruby knew she had failed as a leader, but her time with Team RNJR had changed her mindset all together. She was determined not to fail again.
It was the first time in months since she laid eyes on the Heiress, and Ruby couldn’t help but to take note of Weiss’ regal appearance. The running joke of Weiss being an ‘Ice Queen’ certainly did fit her now. She looked like royalty. In fact, she might as well be royalty. Instead of the appearance Weiss had held over the time she spent in Beacon, the heiress took on a completely new look. Her hair was no longer tied up to the side, but now at the center of her head. Her combat skirt was swapped out in favor of a dress piece that cascaded all the way down to her heels. Every part of her screamed perfection. Ruby didn’t know what the occasion was, but she was glad that it happened. Otherwise, Ruby wouldn’t have gotten the chance to gape at Weiss’ form like this.

Weiss was the definition of elegant. She had never looked so pristine during her time at Beacon. Here in Atlas, she was being cared for and treated like a glass figure. After Ruby was done ravishing Weiss’ appearance with her eyes, she took a good look at Weiss’ facial expression. Her face schooled into an insincere smile, her eyes distant as the first time Ruby had met her partner and her posture; upright and graceful like a princess. At a glance, Ruby instantly knew that Weiss wasn’t happy representing the Schnee Dust Company at the event. There she was, Weiss Schnee, standing on the stage before the crowd of people, presenting whatever dust machine that Ruby had long stopped paying attention to. Blue eyes trained at the crowd, but Weiss didn’t make eye contact with anyone, making Ruby doubt that Weiss had noticed her amongst the crowd. She was nothing but a commoner after all.

Ruby frowned when the event ended. She no longer could continue to stare at Weiss. As if she completely forgotten what she had came here for, the silver eyed girl tailed the heiress back to the Schnee manor, determined to catch up with the Ice Queen. The security was tight, but with her semblance, it made it easier for her to navigate up the manor to search for her partner. Of course the rose petal that she had left in her wake would have been a dead give away that someone had trespassed, but she was lucky that the Schnees had an obsession with rose bushes.

The silver eyed girl made her way to the window of Weiss Schnee’s room. No doubt, she was going to get an earful from Weiss about breaking in, but she wasn’t going to leave her partner alone like this. Not when she had just found her partner.

Ruby peered inside the room. White, of all things. Ruby rolled her eyes at the prominent color of the room. Weiss was staring at the mirror at her dress table. She had changed out from her dress piece and back to her combat skirt. Even with the combat skirt, Weiss still looked elegant as ever. Ruby couldn’t help but to admit, she was completely infatuated with Weiss. Suddenly, Weiss stood up from her seated position and whirled around to face the figure perched on the window sill.

Ah, the mirror gave away my position.. Ruby grimaced as she watched the heiress stomp over to her, blue eyes blazing with anger and… Longing? For a moment, Ruby was at a lost. But all hope was not lost, she had many viable options to choose from; She could grin as she waited for the heiress to open the window and let her in, she could remain passive and continue to look cool with her hood up and the moonlight shining on her figure, or she could look absolutely terrified and start losing her balance. Unfortunately, Ruby had chosen the last option in panic.

Luckily, Weiss had reached the window before Ruby fell off the window sill. The heiress flung open the window so quickly, Ruby had trouble keeping up with her actions. All that Ruby could feel was the tight embrace she was pulled in.

“You absolute dolt..” The heiress mumbled affectionately into the embrace.

“But I’m your dolt.” Ruby grinned as she returned the embrace.

Maybe coming to Atlas wasn’t such a bad choice after all.
To Have Lived And Lost - bookwrm130 - Carmilla (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Elle Sheridan/Carmilla Karnstein, Laura Hollis/Carmilla Karnstein, Ell/Carmilla Karnstein
Characters: Elle Sheridan, Laura Hollis, Carmilla Karnstein
Additional Tags: only mentions of Hollstein, but no Hollstein bashing I promise, Elle Sheridan introspective, I am in love with this character sue me

She was 19, sheltered and protected from the world, when a young girl with alabaster skin and raven hair intrudes upon her quiet life.

AKA the Elle Sheridan piece that has been going through my mind for days.

Yes, this is neither of the two Carmilla fanfic ideas that I had earlier this week, but I just wanted to write this.

Story time

Day before yesterday I returned from class and I was expecting a package but when I got back there were 2???? Both were correctly addressed to me so I opened them and like someone sent me a book anonymously through Amazon???

Not even a gag book for like a dollar but like a legit $17 paperback copy of The Alabaster Girl by Zan Perrion?? We’re in college who the fuck has money like that???

The note just said ‘Enjoy!’ and I’m confused because 

1) It’s a romantic book written from the point of view of a man describing how much he loves women like OK good for you but why do I want this book?? 

2) I’m Indian and my skin is far from alabaster so why did this book remind someone of me???

3) Every person who knows me well enough to know my address would know I’m not a romance novel kinda gal???? 

4) As a feminist the book is like watching a car going 5mph slowly run into a lamp-post. The guy literally says “women are like wine of the finest vintage” and “I’m not like other men.” Go away?????

I’m a slut for books so I’ll still read it for lolz but I’m also locking my doors from now on cuz fuck this shit

Todos los hombres notan cuando una mujer ardiente entra a una sala. Pero todas las mujeres (y sólo algunos hombres) notan cuando una mujer bella entra a una sala. Las mujeres secretamente admiran a las mujeres bellas. No existen más grandes admiradores de las mujeres bellas que otras mujeres. Las mujeres se visten, maquillan, usan ropa de diseñador para otras mujeres… rara vez para los hombres. A los hombres no les importa en absoluto quién diseñó los zapatos, el vestido, el bolso. No lo notan siquiera. ¿Luce bien? Sí. ¿El vestido y los zapatos son removibles? Perfecto.
Se liga a las mujeres ardientes. Raramente a las mujeres bellas. ¿Por qué es esto? Es porque los hombres entienden a las mujeres ardientes; son una entidad conocida. Los hombres saben qué hacer con ellas, o más precisamente, lo que les gustaría hacer con ellas. Las mujeres ardientes tienen un lado frontal y un lado trasero. No hay ningún misterio allí. Las mujeres bellas, por el otro lado, poseen una complejidad, una profundidad, una gracia matizada, que confunde a la mayoría de los hombres. Los hombres no tienen idea de qué hacer con ellas. Así que las mujeres bellas son cortésmente pasadas de largo.
—  Zan Perrion, The Alabaster Girl
How I made my Captain America's shield

[Daisy a.k.a. Alexandra]:

Some people was interested in how I made my Captain America’s shield. So, I think it’s time to tell this dramatic story))) 

That time I had no money and no time. But I’ve really needed new shield. And this shield had to look as good as possible. Not very successful combination…

Soooooo… This is standard technology “master model -> rubber mold -> plastic cast”. But with “no money and no time” factor. And “I’ve never did such huge mold” factor.
And I have no workshop or garage, or just suitable room: I’ve made it all in my bedroom.

1) Master model.

Mistake: because I was spinning plywood template around model, pressure was not constant. As result - radial ridges and pits. 

2) Mold.

First layer: MoldMax 10 (Smooth-On). I’ve used all I had.
Mistake: this layer is too thin, it must be 2-3 times thicker. 

Second layer: some very lame (but very cheap!) made-in-russia rubber. It was all I had too. But layer thikness was okay. Mistake was to use this rubber…

Сasing made of alabaster. Mistake: ALABASTER. It's heavy and fragile. 
Mold with casing had weight almost 10kg and I needed to keep this mold on outstretched arms and shake it for a 5-10 minutes without pauses while casting (It’s not easy for a girl). Alabaster was cracking and one day casing was just broken to many pieces. 

Mold! Looks not too bad. Don’t trust your eyes…

3) Casting!
I’ve used Smooth-Cast 300 for first layer and Feather Light for second (both by Smooth-On).
Casting technology like here:

Mold with casting.

Master model, mold and casting.

Casting. First one, it was used for this cosplay: 
Each next casting was worse and worse, beause first layer of mold was too thin, second was made of shit, casing was cracking more and more… And as result: mold was getting great damages each time. 

4) Painting.
I’ve used chrome spray paint for first layer and Dupli-Color Metalcast spray paint for red and blue parts.

5) Handles.
Handles made of fake leather and just clued by hot glue. It’s possible because shield weights only 1,3kg. 

6) Painting for “damaged” effect. 
It was made in the heat of passion, because it was third day almost without sleeping, and we was making that huge Iron Man thing on the background, and you really don’t want to know all the horrifying details.
I just barely can remember how I’ve done this painting.

Thank you for reading! Daisy out.