avan jogia & they + them/ non binary β· watch out , avi amin has crash-landed into roswell !! they look twenty-seven years old and celebrate their birthday on july twenty-eighth. they are from san francisco, california, reside in the greystone complex and are currently working as a clerk at callisto costume store. one thing you should know about them is in their high school years they got so fed up with the ripped jeans fad, that they deliberately bought five pairs & sewed the holes up with rainbow thread. β·
hello, gang !! mickey here with my child, avi ! i havenβt been in a tumblr rp in a hot minute, but iβm excited to be a part of this one ! so without further ado, below is aviβs bio ~ and if you wanna plot, iβve got some wanted connections listed here !
BASICS
β πππ₯π§π π‘ππ π : Β avi balmohan amin. β π‘ππππ‘ππ π(π¦) : Β vi, abba. β π.π’.π / πππ : Β july twenty-eighth, twenty-seven. β ππ’ππππ : Β leo. β πππ‘πππ₯ / π£π₯π’π‘π’π¨π‘π¦ : Β non binary, they/them. β π¦ππ«π¨ππππ§π¬ : Β bisexual, demiromantic. β π πππ’π₯ : Β fashion design. β ππ’π ππ§π’πͺπ‘ : Β san francisco, ca. β πππ‘ππ¨ππππ¦ : Β english, some gujarati, broken spanish. β πππππππππ : Β avan jogia.
OVERVIEW
β Β ππ§ π¦π§ππ₯π§π¦ πͺππ§π π ππππππ π ππ₯π₯ππππ, your Β parents signing the dotted line of their divorce papers a few months Β after you turn four. too doe eyed to know whatβs going on, but saddened Β enough to remember missing the smell of your motherβs perfume. β π¬π’π¨π₯ πππ§πππ₯ π§ππππ¦ π’π‘ π§ππ Β π₯ππ¦π£π’π‘π¦ππππππ§π¬ π’π π₯πππ¦ππ‘π π¬π’π¨. his struggles Β burdening the roof over your head as he juggles credit card debt and Β working two part time jobs. bitter mutterings about your mother sticking Β to the roof of his mouth whenever he cooks a TV dinner, your ears never Β getting the full story on why she left. β π¨π‘ππ’π₯π§π¨π‘ππ§πππ¬ ππ’π₯ πππ , itβs hard for you to let go, Β your chocolate hues alighting beneath your motherβs scarves as you play Β make believe with the clothes she left behind. adorning yourself in Β white pearls & burgundy colored heels. the reflection in the mirror Β marked as beautiful whenever you act as your mother & compliment Β your appearance with a blown kiss & a dazzling grin. secretly Β yearning for that maternal validation despite not recognizing it yet. β π¦ππ« π¬πππ₯π¦ π¬π’π¨π‘π ππ¦ π§ππ πππ₯π¦π§ π§ππ π Β ππ‘ π ππ’π‘π πͺππππ you witness a smile curl onto your fatherβs Β lips. the creases on his forehead replaced with dimples on his cheeks. Β flowers in his hands, lipstick stains on his collar. as though heβs Β filled the lines with technicolor, cracking open the seal of his heart Β as he lets someone else in. β ππ'π¦ π ππ§ π¦π’π πππ’ππ¬ π‘ππͺ, that much is obvious. Β this newfound relationship arousing a breath of fresh air once youβre Β both introduced two months in, the baggage she comes with hanging off Β her leg with the same doe eyes you once had a couple years ago. her Β daughterβs messy hair resembling the unkempt mop atop your own head. β πππππππ. just a couple years younger than you. her innocence Β wrapped up in scrunchies & bows, the chuckles that emit from her Β chest like a gentle reminder that tomorrowβs a new day. and itβs funny β Β at first β how different her outlook is compared to yours, the girlβs Β high pony & idealism clashing with your loud, attention seeking Β aesthetic. but as her life begins to bleed into yours, it doesnβt take Β long for these contrasts to pit against each other, the uneven balance Β soon challenged when your father and her mother decide to tie the knot. β ππ§'π¦ πππππ₯ πππ₯ππ¬ π’π‘ that you struggle to climb Β the metaphorical ladder thatβs wedged between the two of you, these Β expectations & comparisons your father has placed now painting your Β efforts as lazy & lackadaisical. delilahβs successes in science, Β history, & math overshadowing your strengths in the arts & Β theatrics, this nontraditional approach erupting a deep rooted Β frustration within your father that inevitably boils over once you argue Β your right to be referred to as they & them. β π‘π’πͺ π π’π₯π π§πππ‘ ππ©ππ₯, π§πππ₯π'π¦ π ππ₯ππ©π Β πππ¦ππ’π‘π‘πππ§ between who youβre supposed to be & who you Β want to be. tiptoeing this tightrope as you develop a dry witted tongue, Β cutting through awkward family dinners by asserting your opinion over Β those who disagree. dramatizing your words, enunciating each syllable in Β the off chance your father will listen. instead, however, he reacts Β with his fists banging against the table & he shouts, β i donβt Β understand you! β to which you calmly look at him, sigh, & say, β Β then let me express myself & maybe one day you will. β β π§πππ¦ π¦π§ππ£ π§π’πͺππ₯ππ¦ π¨π‘πππ₯π¦π§ππ‘πππ‘π is rocky at Β best, an olive branch extending when you realize that your fatherβs Β judgment had stemmed from a sense of loathing, one heβs held onto since Β your mother left. he was blaming her through you because you harbor Β qualities that remind him of how she used to be. like her knack for Β creating things out of nothing & her ability to draw attention in a Β crowded room, something he assures you is a compliment. β π§ππ π Β π£ππ¦π¦ππ¦ & π¬π’π¨ πππ’π¦π¦π’π into someone who makes Β statements with black lined lids & painted fingernails, the mesh Β fabric of your shirt just an invitation for bystanders to look. you find Β confidence in your ability to maintain your own aesthetic, standing Β tall when your influence bleeds onto those around you, a sense of pride Β tickling pierced ears as you elicit gasps & criticism whenever you Β walk into a room. symbolizing yourself as a trend-setter, someone whoβs Β effortlessly unbothered. this foundation of self-assurance often drawing Β people in like magnets, these copycats & leeches, victims whoβve Β lost their identity, now stealing inspiration from the only person Β around whoβs so sure of their own. you. β πͺπππ‘ π¬π’π¨π₯ Β π¦ππππ§π¦ π¦ππ§ π’π‘ π₯π’π¦πͺπππ, youβve already paved Β your way, carving out a path that fits the image youβre committed to Β uphold. and itβs because of your innovator instincts & entrepreneur Β touch that youβve begun marketing your own fashion line from your dingy apartmentβs living room. this new position on life allowing you to mismatch & Β retouch old into new in the hopes of one day catching the attention of Β those whoβre willing to promote & sponsor your latest creations in Β your own name. β π§ππ’π¨ππ ππ’π‘ππ¦π§ππ¬, π¬π’π¨'π©π ππ’π₯ππ’π§π§ππ‘ πͺππ¬ π¬π’π¨'π₯π πππ₯π. itβs been three years into your journey & instead of reaching for the stars, youβre stuck trying to cover rent while working a day job at the local costume shop. your originality, your Β individualism, your opportunity β they slowly slip away from you as you burn your wallet dry & burn yourself out. this odd pond that is roswell, new mexico slowly drowning you with debt, the taste of tequila on your lips now becoming more of a crutch than a stress reliever as the projects pile high in unorganized sticky notes on your coffee table; losing yourself while trying to become something of yourself. ( you just gotta pull your act together ) which is why as you look in Β the mirror & wear your momβs scarf for old timeβs sake β β π§πͺπ’ π€π¨ππ¦π§ππ’π‘π¦ π₯ππ πππ‘π¦: who even are you, avi amin? and are you ready to find out?
