- stay hydrated
- be elusive
- avoid a harsh flash
- try to get plenty of exercise
- play hard to get
- be aware of lighting
- elongate the neck
- eat plenty of fish
- grow old gracefully
- keep an air of mystery
- a true lady reveals nothing
Huge fan of dinosaurs, crocodiles, and giant monsters. Black trans girl. Not a social justice anything, just occasionally angry about racism or transmisogyny. Almost a feminist, if a lot of feminists weren't so violently opposed to my existence.
I exist despite all the people who wish I didn't or actively campaign to make me stop. So that's fun.
I am a writer, I love reading and movies and monsters, and I am your princess, equal parts radioactivity and sugar. Please behave accordingly.
I have a headache and I feel like the gulf between how I look and how I’m supposed to look/want to look is insurmountable
tonight is a bad night
that whole thing was just one rough draft so don’t be mean if it wasn’t very good
Well, this is how I remember it happening.
The princess gripped her spear in one hand, clinging to a tree branch with the other. The exact moment she’d spotted her quarry and found the perfect hiding place was, naturally, the moment she’d become aware of just how sweaty her palms were.
Nothing for it now, though.
As quietly as her prey, she leaned forward to peer past the tangle of leaves and branches to see the creature below her tree. The lion’s tawny back rippled as it walked, carrying itself with the liquid-smooth bearing of all big cats. When it stopped moving, the princess held her breath and waited. When the lion glanced over its shoulders on each side, the princess was as still as she could manage, willing herself to somehow turn invisible amidst the foliage. The cat moved on. When it did, the princess allowed herself to breathe, gently running her hand along the haft of her spear to hopefully shed some of the sweat on her palm, and followed it through the woods.
The river was the tricky part. The noise of running water covered the sounds of her descent from the treetops, but there were several yards of space between the forest and the riverbank, and precious few obstacles to impede the lion if it tried to bolt…or to hide behind if it turned to fight. Again, the princess reminded herself there was nothing for it. Her fur boots muffled the sounds of her landing as she dropped from the trees, inching past the tree line and out into the open. The cat had its back to her, its head down as it drank from the river, and the princess edged closer still.
She’d left her crown behind at the last hunting post, along with a change of clothes and all her supplies. It was all or nothing, this hunt: just her, a spear, and whatever animal was unlucky enough to be chosen as her quarry. Dark purple streaks - war paint - made her wide blue eyes look as if they were rimmed with faded scars. More streaks along her left arm and down her ribcage told a story of her hunting victories. With any luck, she’d be able to add a starburst pattern indicating a lion’s mane to the design. Nothing too flashy, just a tasteful picture on one of her wide hips, so if she wore anything that hung low, the faintest hint would -
Her reverie was broken by the sudden, sickening realization that the lion had caught her scent. To be fair to the lion, it had actually done more than catch her scent: it had wheeled around, claws extended and teeth bared, and slunk toward her while she gazed, distracted by her wandering mind, towards the trees on the opposite side of the river. Now it was staring her in the face, its own muzzle rimmed with actual battle scars. It suddenly occurred to the princess that not only was the lion much older and probably tougher than she’d anticipated, but that it had no mane. Lionesses were a couple hundred times harder to kill than lion men, who tended to be rather lazy when they could get away with it.
The realization that she’d severely underestimated the lion was one of only three things that had time to go through her mind. The second thing was the full understanding of just how badly the hunt was going, given the fact that her prey was staring her in the face and could take her head off with one swipe of its huge paws. The third thing was the strange sensation that night had evidently fallen, because everything was going rather dark at the same time an ominous whistling noise filled the ears of both lion and princess.
It’s often been theorized that a lion could be slain by the properly-timed dropping of a boulder or log onto its back, and many hapless subjects of the princess’ kingdom had in fact made the attempt only to perish rather messily. The princess, later, was able to attest that dropping a spaceship on a lion works just as well, though even she would have admitted it was a rather melodramatic way to hunt.
The spacefarer’s craft had malfunctioned rather badly - through no fault of her own, as she’d insist later - and the engines had completely failed in the atmosphere of a particularly interesting-looking planet. She’d just exited a black hole and had intended to swoop in long enough to see if what looked like dinosaurs on her scanning instruments actually were dinosaurs, but the swoop had turned into a free-falling dive that left her seriously wondering if she was going to die.
As it turned out, she didn’t die, and they really were dinosaurs.
The lion was almost entirely squashed by the ship, only its head and front paws still visible at the edge of the crater the ship would leave behind when it was eventually moved. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth as if it were mocking the princess - bet you weren’t expecting that to happen, were you? - and for a long moment the only sounds came from flocks of panicked birds scattering in all directions and the quiet hissing of the ship letting out huge quantities of smoke.
The princess, previously crouched with one hand on her spear and the other on the ground, slumped backward onto her haunches, barely feeling it as her large backside collided with the forest floor and she sat, dazed and rather at a loss for words. A panel opened in the side of the ship, between two large windows, and from out of the smoking wreckage came a person in a rather bulky suit, wearing a large clear helmet over their head.
The princess stared.
The spacefarer stared right back at her.
After a moment, the spacefarer removed her helmet, revealing short hair in a vibrant shade of purple. She looked the princess up and down, noting her brown skin, broad shoulders, and an impressive head of black curly hair framing bright blue eyes. Tucking her helmet under a muscular arm, the spacefarer hopped from her ship to the ground, offered her free hand to the princess, and pulled her to her feet in one brisk, smooth motion.
“Sorry about that,” she said, turning the lifting motion into a polite handshake before releasing the dazed girl. The spear clattered to the ground, and then the amazon finally spoke.
“Oh… um, it’s fine. Thank you. I think you might’ve saved my life.”
“And crushed your lion,” the spacefarer added, prodding the beast’s head with the toe of her boot. “Hey, are there really dinosaurs here? It sort of looked like it, but I was kinda busy crashing, so I didn’t have time to check.”
“Reptiles, mostly carnivorous, between four and two legs. Scales on some of ‘em, feathers on the rest. Those guys.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of those.” The princess’ face lit up. She was finally beginning to collect herself, or so she felt. As she picked her spear up, she looked the spacefarer over curiously and then smiled. “Want to go see?”
“Absolutely.” Now the spacefarer was grinning. “Lemme put my helmet back inside Beulah and we’ll get going.”
“That’s my ship. Nothing too fancy - she turns like a cinder block on a roller skate, but if you’re traveling via miniature, localized wormhole, you mostly just go straight and hope for the best. I’m Hannah, by the way.”
The princess smiled again, getting a firmer grip on her spear and standing up straight as she led the spacefarer off toward the forest.
prioritize trans women. prioritize fat trans women in your body positivity and fat acceptance. prioritize butch trans women in your celebrations of fucking with gender roles. prioritize trans women of color anti-racism activism. prioritize trans women.
As blackholegirl and I were driving up through Oregon we started talking about maybe going camping someday, and I couldn’t shake the mental image of me basically being that one character in the live-action Disney camp movie who shows up wearing pink camouflage and has a massive backpack full of gadgets and clothes and frivolous nonsense. And I kind of love it.
*whispers* my hair is too short I want to grow it out and have a purple afro
I should draw myself as the protagonist of a preschool/kindergarten age kids’ cartoon… :3
Aaaaaaaaaaand me as the big sister/babysitter? :D
Guess who found unposted selfies as she was looking through iPhoto?