>not the lip bite version
I'm not sure. I pronounce it as Toff, but there's hints of a kind a sound that is a mixture of P and H without it mixing into a clear F. Sadly my barbarous Slav tongue is incapable of such nuances.
Now to make this thread a bit weirder. It sounds like a pervy question but I was wondering about Toph's underware. What does she wear? We saw that Katara has a whole lot of stuff going on down there, which kinda makes sense given the climate she's from. But I have no idea what kind of undies Toph might be wearing, so if anyone has any insight I'd be glad to hear it. What did the actual Chinese upper class women wear in a comparative period for instance?
I can see where you're going with that, based on her character. But there's the issue of practicality as well that must be addressed. IIRC Toph is 13, and things can get messy for premenstrual girls of that age. If anything going commando might be more restricting and a liability to her than wearing something.
During the Ba Sing Se eps we see her in shorts when Katara comes to wake her up, but I dunno if those are just her bed clothes, actual choice of underware or something third.
I like to imagine that her wearing slippers to sleep is her version of wearing a sleeping blindfold.
she's imagining Sokka's lithe, hairless body, slick with seawater, frolicking in the water, his muscles contracting and expanding from the exertion, listening to his voice and hearing his flesh slap against the water. She imagines him stumbling onto shore, seaweed in his eyes, laughingly feeling around for a towel. He jokes that he's as blind as Toph before he clumsily stumbles into her, and she feels his weight on her body, so slight a boy but so warm a man, slipping and rubbing against her. She gets lost in her fantasy and he splashes her as a gag, and she gets flustered and calls him a cocksucker.
Maybe she just wrecked someone and is on a power high
I sometimes wonder what goes on in your life, Scrapper. Who are you past that trip if there truly is such a man as you? What dreams do you dream, in which house do you call yourself home, what life do you live before turning into a long sleep upon bed of cotton or a possible cot resting, hooked inside of a dark, cold shack, maybe even a pillow on cold, dark stone outside the room of the one you call Him? Have we met or will we ever at least once past one another on the paths into town, without so much as a glance towards the other? Would you look upon me if you knew? Would you cast a stone towards my gullet or simply pick up your trot? I ask aloud to the heavens above surely both of us in your favor: When the screen turns black and the machine whirls down for the final night as the light stops it's incessant blinking, will we ever truly know where you've gone or if you are gone or where you'll be. I wish and pray for your soul to rest easy before that day but have great hope and even pride knowing before and against all others that we will meet and both be full of merry and warmth on the highest peaks of the mountains in the eternal trails. My heart stays strong for you, Scrapper, you beautiful, however unwell, friend. May you know peace and love at least from me.