#i don’t like when they genderswap and just give every woman long long hair like why man?? that’s so boringggg | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

henshengs · 3 years

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About Rule 63 fanworks

I was asked yesterday to elaborate on my genderbend opinions, as a trans person, which I’m happy to do, and I’ve thought about it a bit today to make sure I’m not saying something off the cuff and not thought through. Still, this is a sensitive, complicated topic, and I’m open to discussion on it.

This also got long, so I’m putting it under a cut.

So, obviously I can’t speak for all trans people. No minority group is a monolith in our opinions and this is particularly the case for the transgender community because our experiences are so very diverse and individual.

I am very rarely hurt or offended by genderbends/genderswaps/rule 63 fanworks. I know people for whom this is not the case, and I believe the pain involved is very real. The thing is... living in this world is inherently kinda painful when you’re trans. This world’s not built for us. All kinds of random things can cause me pain throughout my day. Store mannequins. My own reflection. Lesbian poetry. Pictures of other trans people. When something triggers my dysphoria or feelings of alienation, I have to stop, acknowledge the feeling, and then consider whether the thing is, outside of hurting me, contributing to the ignorance of and hatred of people like me by its very existence.

I don’t think the basic act of asking, “What if this character who is a cis man, was a cis woman instead?” does that. I think if anything, it opens the door to then ask “what if he was a trans man? Or a trans woman? Or nonbinary?”

Asking “what if this story was about a cis woman” lets cis women talk about their experiences and see themselves in stories, something I think is valuable! and also can lead to stories exploring sexism and misogyny, things which affect all trans people too!

In the rest of this post I’m going to use the terms “rule 63″ and “genderswap” to refer to the act of creating a fanwork changing a cis/presumed cis man to a cis or not-specified-to-be-trans woman, because this is the vast majority of the work under that label, because most fictional heroes and iconic characters are cis men, and because people who create cis man->trans woman or cis woman->trans man content, in my experience, usually use terms like “trans headcanon” instead.

(A lot of rule 63 fanworks don’t explicitly specify that the now-female character is cis. We can presume that most artists aren’t even thinking about the possibility of the character being trans, but we can presume that for 99.99% of all art, anywhere. It’s not a unique evil of rule 63.)

The claims that rule 63 is inherently transphobic, rather than just something where it’s good to be extra careful to avoid transphobia, as far as I’ve seen, use two arguments: A) that making the character a cis woman is wasting an opportunity to make them a trans person, and this is transphobic, and B) that rule 63 fan art is gender essentialist and cissexist, because it ties gender to physical characteristics.

Argument A doesn’t hold up for me,

because couldn’t one then say that reimagining an abled white cis character as an abled white trans woman is racist and ableist? that reimagining them as an abled trans woman of color is ableist? No transformative reimagining can cover every identity. We say “write what you know” and talk about Own Voices, and that includes cis women who want to write about the experience they know.

It’s also not fair to tell trans people that we must always think about trans experiences, even in our fiction. A lot of the time we don’t want to have to write or think about dysphoria and discrimination and we want to live in the heads of cis characters or even just characters whose AGAB is not mentioned!

And it is also, imo, not a great idea to pressure people who may not be educated about trans experiences to write about trans characters just because they want to explore sexism or write about lesbians.

many, many trans people first begin exploring their gender identity through creating cis rule 63 content, because it’s ‘safer’ than directly engaging with trans content.

With argument B, I agree that a lot of rule 63 art looks like this

and this sucks. To me, though, it’s important that it’s not the genderswap aspect that makes it suck. Artists who do this are also designing original characters with sexist, gender essentialist designs. Artists who don’t draw sexist art in general, also don’t draw sexist rule 63.

(yes, I know She-Hulk is not a rule 63 of regular Hulk. But you guys know the kind of art I’m talking about.)

I’ve also noticed a genre of fanfic that’s like, “if these characters were girls, they’d be sensible and conflict avoidant and none of the plot would happen!” or “what if these violent, tragic male characters were Soft Lesbians who braided each others’ hair” and again, I assume these authors write canonical women the same way. The genderswap part isn’t the bad part, the sexism is.

Non-sexist rule 63 actually, in my opinion, fights gender essentialism and cissexism. When a character is exactly the same except for the ways a gender essentialist world has shaped and pressured them based on their AGAB, that’s a strong statement on the constructed nature of gender!

But the argument that making /any/ change is gender essentialist, is... I understand where it’s coming from. I am a trans person who presents androgynously and I am a hypervisible freak because of it. I would love to live in a society where visible gender markers weren’t a thing! Unfortunately, we don’t live in that society. We live in one where we are constantly under pressure to conform to one of two profiles. There are almost no gender non conforming male characters in popular media. And changing a gender conforming cis man into a gender conforming cis woman seems to me to be a neutral action at worst. Not to mention characters from historical canons, who would be under a ton of pressure to conform.

For physical body type characteristics... 65% of all speaking roles in Hollywood are cis and male. It’s harder to get statistics on other forms of media, but it’s undeniable that overall, most stories are told about cis men who do not have breasts or wide hips. Changing the story to be about a cis woman who has those features is introducing more diversity!

I typed “rule 63″ and “genderswap” into the tumblr search bar today, and I saw a lot of art of women with a variety of aesthetics and body shapes and characteristics, who looked like people I’d see out at the mall.

Again, I sure do wish we lived in a post gender society. But we don’t, and in our society, everyone, myself included, looks at a picture of a person and gender categorizes them based on appearance. It is not wrong for someone to draw “Geralt the Witcher as a hot butch woman” and give her some physical markers generally agreed upon to denote ‘butch woman’ rather than ‘gender conforming man’ to tell the viewer that that is what they have drawn. Just as it is not wrong to draw “my OC who is a hot butch woman who fights monsters” and give her those markers.

Finally, both arguments against genderswaps are, in my opinion, flawed because they implicitly posit the act of creating fanworks of the original, cis male gender conforming character design, as neutral. I think this is incorrect. I think that if you’re going to argue that drawing a cis male character as a cis woman is transphobic, you have to also argue that drawing the character as a cis man is transphobic. But I’ve only seen people do this when a trans headcanon becomes extremely popular in a fandom.

Again, I’m just one person. I’m also biased, because firstly, as I mentioned, rule 63 doesn’t usually trigger my dysphoria; secondly, I almost always come down on the side of “don’t limit what people can explore in fiction; ask them to explore it more sensitively or with more content warnings instead.”

I definitely encourage creators to seek out and listen to a variety of trans opinions. But this is mine: I love rule 63, I make a lot of it myself, and I think if no one created it we’d lose something awesome.

At the end of the day, what I really want is more trans content*, but I’d rather have cis rule 63 than just stories about cis men.

Also: I personally have nothing against the terms genderswap or genderbend. I don’t think it reinforces the gender binary to acknowledge its existence by saying you’re ‘swapping’ the character from being cis with one AGAB to being cis with the other. But I can definitely see the argument against it, so I don’t blame anyone for going with rule 63 instead.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading; I hope you have a nice day, and have fun creating and consuming the fanworks your heart desires. I’ll end by linking this comic, which is just eternally relevant.

(*by which I mean: trans content created by other trans people, that matches my hyperspecific headcanons, likes and dislikes, and doesn’t set off any of my often changing dysphoria triggers. See what I said at the start, about transgender existence being constantly mildly painful. There are many awesome aspects to being trans! This is one of the less awesome.)

#rule 63

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himboskywalker · 4 years

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tag ive been thinking about how you said that the moment you name a concept you don't like reading or writing it's an immediate challenge, and I feel like it had the same effect on me as a reader? The moment you said no genderswap I was like damn though a female Anakin in tag's hands?? the badassery would be unbelievable! the smut, gourmet! then you said no modern AUs and I was like a FEMALE ANAKIN WHO IS HOOKING UP WITH AN OBI WAN WHO WONT CHOMP HER only one person can write this.

Lmao I think what it is,is when I voice something I don’t like or particularly care for in writing it makes me pause and think about what it is about that thing that I don’t like. Because it’s usually specific things or naunces of the trope I don’t like,rather than the whole idea,so that once I verbalize that I don’t like it then I’m like,yeah but what if you wrote it without the part you don’t like and see if you like it then lol Like specifically with gender swap I really don’t like the male character being suddenly hyper feminized and their character changing because of it. Or when it’s a gender bending situation where the male character gets temporarily turned female,then it becomes a feminizing trope of putting them in pretty bras and being super dramatic over periods and having long hair. It just feels like every early 2000s romcom where gender norms are so strictly pushed and it comes off to me as very girls wear PINK and PUSH UP BRAS and OMG I have to wear makeup now and this long hair is SO annoying ect. It would interesting to write an Obikin fic where Anakin being a woman changes like...nothing except for the technicalities of sex. Like Anakin would be no different as a woman,he’d be just as feral,just as ✨notice me sempei✨and just as ready to wreak some chaos with a lightsaber.

It’s the same with modern aus for me,I said I don’t like them but then when I said it I thought,okay what is it about them that I don’t like? I just think they’re boring really,I’m not really a coffee shop au person,I’ve always liked fantasy and sci-fi specifically for the action and adventure,and romances I like are always simultaneous with action/adventure or something else going on. So then I thought,alright can I write a mushy modern au that I don’t think is boring or take out some of the tropes of modern aus that I always feel that drag? I don’t know we’ll see lol I have a Christmas fic planned and I may wind up hating it but I’m going to at least give it a shot.

#my fanfic stuff #fanfiction #anons

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inviouswriting · 3 years

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Liberosis

The desire to care less about things

Arjuna x Fem!reader - continuation of the genderswap story. Only with male!Arjuna now.

You became aware of familiar of strong arms around you as you woke up. The sight the greets you are deep brown eyes framed by a mess of bangs. Yet a serene look to those eyes, you move a leg to feel one of Arjuna’s legs with it. You feel the slightly rougher muscle of skin, you knew he had resumed his normal self. You greet him with a genuine smile.

“Did you sleep long?” You ask him, Arjuna nods, he had gotten enough after his rituals were complete. His hands roam across your back, and feels the subtle skin pressing you closer to his own form. He had shed any clothing before he had joined you again, knowing he wouldn’t need them.

You trail fingers along his face seeing him close his eyes, even raises his head to your hand. Arjuna catches your hand when you brush the back of your knuckles across his jaw and brings them to his mouth to press kisses along fingers.

“Master, how was I the last two days with you? Did you find enjoyment in me?” His question came out loaded, you knew this was a specific question. You scoot closer to him and he raises your head to look at him in the eye to answer him.

“I loved every moment I spent with you. It’s you. I’d love to indulge that side again in the future.” Your answer satisfies him, and he tugs you closer, you knew of his insecurities when it comes to sharing more of himself. Showing you the female side of him was a huge leap for the archer, as the form was from his lesser graceful years following the dice game.

“Oho? You would want me like that again someday?” His hands move down your back and presses your hips closer to his own. You could feel him against your leg, and he sees the instant your face flushes in realization that he wasn’t asking questions out of insecurity, they were checking what you were enjoying. Arjuna shifts you to directly underneath him.

“Only with you, Master, no one else may see that form.” You nod in agreement, and Arjuna’s expression changes a brief smile then a familiar one you are familiar with. The alluring one you’ve seen the last few days, you shrink down to the bed as he follows to press a full kiss to your lips.

You feel a hand slip down to press at a breast then smooths down more along hip till he lifts your hips up to slip the arm behind your back. You can feel him against your leg already. You look up at him as he pulls up from the kiss.

“Do you want to?” Arjuna asks, his free hand going to your thigh to touch over the smooth skin. He enjoys the softness under his fingers. He had enjoyed thoroughly going over your body the previous night with an oil and lotion after one of the romps. You had enjoyed his hands when he touched over every spot of your skin and knew he enjoyed when you returned the attention.

Now the fingers of his right hand dance over your slit and you had missed the feel of his fingers as a man. There was something about the feel, how they reached deeper, you noted how they’re different from the female side. You nibble on your bottom lip feeling them press in, having grown accustomed to slimmer size. His thumb presses small circles at the nub, remembering the way you taught him how to touch you over the last few days.

You felt hot within seconds, seeing his smirk did wonders and you arch under his touch as he curls his fingers just right. Arjuna lowers his head down to take a nipple into his mouth to nip and suck on. The combination of his mouth and his fingers induce a shudder, and you want to feel more. At a press up towards your belly and his fingers brush right till you keen in bliss. His hand moves against you, thrusting his fingers to that spot. Your legs shake as a familiar pressure builds in your belly.

Arjuna’s eyes are transfixed on your face, drinking in every small nuance you make. From the way you turn your head slightly, or when his fingers curl he’d see your eyes open in shock when they keep brushing. He tugs his fingers free when he felt you too close, you look up at him in frustration. He has a knack for that regardless of his form.

“I love seeing you frustrated for me.” Arjuna adjusts himself, he had leaned over to grab the bottle of lubricant that had been abandoned the previous night and you watch as he pours a generous amount on his erection. You eye him weary, he ignores the stare in favor of settle between your legs. You knew what was next, and you missed this feeling.

You bite your lip at the stretch as he pushes in slow, there was no comparison to from the toys you had shared with him. He had purposefully chosen smaller sized dildos so you wouldn’t get spoiled at the stretch he himself provides. You whimper as he settles inside bottoming out with a hiss. He is thick and hot, he already had you angled where he wants you.

Arjuna sits there with you seated around him, almost as if he is waiting for something. His hands finding purchase at your waist holding you still, you try moving but are held still by him. Confusion on your face as you glance upwards to him.

“Wait. Let me feel you.” You feel him press as close as he gets, where he couldn’t push further or you couldn’t accept him deeper. He kept hold as he makes subtle rocks of his hips. Enough for him to feel you but not enough for you to get excitement off.

“Arjuna...” You murmur, almost a plea in your voice. He tilts his head to the side, and moves just a bit more, grinding against you. Something he learned as a woman when he used the toys. The grinding made you say his name more. The movement of his waist against yours would cause him to brush your g-spot, what he was waiting for when he sees your eyes gloss over and part your mouth in a erotic moan.

“Ahn!” He was different than earlier romps, his thrusts were grinds, always right into that one spot. You feel your body more reactive to this treatment, and he sees it on your face. You reach for a pillow to cover your face to muffle your moans. Arjuna wrests it away throwing it off the side; he places both of his hands by your head as he hovers over you keeping his grinds going.

Arjuna sees your face flushed darker with him closer, his left hand cupping the back of your head to keep your eyes locked with his. You feel shy from this treatment, even as he places kiss along your cheek to lips. You part your lips as he deepens the kiss, you murmur and whimper for more of him between the kiss. The roll of his hips enough that you grip your hands into the bedsheet underneath you.

You move your hands from there when you threatened to scratch holes into linens not yours and grip at Arjuna’s back when he finally caves in and starts to thrust. The torturous pace finally wore on him, and he gives what you desire in full pull back and thrusts right in till you are crying his name in exasperated sighs.

The nails in Arjuna’s shoulders drives him harder, he expected them once he had tipped you over that edge into a heated frenzy. He stills himself to hear you cry his name, the frustrated moan out of you drives him further to push till he is fully inside and holds there.

Any cry of protest is swallowed by a kiss, your hands shake from denied orgasms, your nails dig harder into his shoulders urging him to move. This only makes him pull back halfway leaving you almost an empty feeling inside as he draws back till the tip rests just at the ring.

The kiss he keeps with you, you meet his tongue and slip yours alongside his as his wanders your mouth. You could feel him twitch, and he felt you trying to squeeze him enough to push back inside. Both of his hands moved to the back of your head, and keeps you still, the liplock not letting up anytime soon. With him holding his hips back just enough to keep you from pulling him with your legs.

Your head spins in hazed lust, your eyes closed as you get lost in the sensation of him almost devouring you like this. You would moan through the kiss and taper off to breathe only for him to seal another one. Arjuna brushes the side of your face with a hand, tilting it enough to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Please! Arjuna!” You plea him, you feel him push in brief then back. You are going mad with the teasing. He does long and slow thrusts, enough to feel him, but not enough deep enough.

“Arjuna what?” You hear him answer you giving quick pecked kisses from corner to corner of your parted mouth. His own patience was wearing thin, he just wanted to hear you beg him.

“Please! More! I want more of you!” He dips his head closer till his breath tickles an ear.

“Want more of me how?” A delicate hot breath is blown, your face heats up more.

“I want you...” You turn your head to shield the ear from him nibbling on the ridge. Arjuna instead turns his attention onto the other ear fully catching the edge between his teeth and runs his tongue along it while tugging.

“Want me to what? Master, if you don’t tell me properly. I can’t assist your needs.” Oh, how he loved when you squirmed underneath him. He draws out a hitched breathy moan from you. You feel him nip hard enough so you feel pressure but not break the skin.

“Arjuna! I! That feels... Ah!” He had trailed to your neck sucking at the spot on your neck just below your ear and under your jaw. His right hand goes to the same spot on the other side of your neck and grazes his nails along the skin gentle yet firm to make you shiver underneath him.

“Master, I know you can tell me. What do you desire of me. Your servant. Your arrow.” His left hand still at the back of your head curls fingers into your hair and tugs enough to keep your head in place.

“Please! love me!” More sucks along your neck, leaving marks behind as testaments of your relationship with the archer.

“I already am.” You murmur under your breath a frustrated sigh, the shallow thrusts he is doing drives you insane.

“I mean... my arrow... please... thrust harder!” His next thrust is harder, he pushes deep but still slow, but the full feel of him inside urges you closer to that edge. You feel teeth against the front of your neck at the center. He is determined to leave a lovely necklace of hickeys where they’re easily seen.

“Like this? Is that how you want to ask me?” You can feel him push harder, the spot that brushes right makes you tremble underneath him and bite your lip to keep from crying out too loud.

“Arjuna!! Arjuna!!! Please!!! do it! Me! Fuck me please!!!!” You cover your face as soon as the words leave, and miss seeing him smirk as he obliges your request. His thrusts are hard and fast, he chases his own relief as he edges you towards your own.

You are lost in pleasure, each cry of pleasure torn from you is a sound he enjoys. You feel every inch of him as he plunges into you as deep as he goes and fast enough to hear the impact through the bed underneath you.

You glance up at him through your fingers seeing his eyes closed for once and quiet sighs fall from him. You keep tensing around him as he thrusts in and he is lost in that feeling. He missed it as a woman when he brought you to such highs knowing what you were feeling at the end of him.

A chorus of “please” is chanted off your lips, you catch his attention, getting closer to that edge. You were missing a sensation he provides, he knew what you were missing as he slips a hand down between you to rub at your clit as he thrusts harder. You buck your hips against his hand and thrusts.

Your legs wrap at his waist to pull you closer till you let out a loud cry of pure pleasure as you peak first. Arjuna thrusts through your orgasm feeling the way you grip him and only lasts a few more thrusts as he follows you spilling himself full into you.

Arjuna slows his movements, out of breath from the exertion. You feel him lower down to wrap his arms around you burying his face into your shoulder and neck again. He stays in your arms when you wrap them around him, not inclined to move or pull from you just yet. You didn’t blame him either, you enjoyed having him like this.

When he finally pulls from you, you look up into dark eyes as he looks to your eyes. You reach for him and he meets you to be pulled down for another full kiss. This lasts until you both need air panting from it, and Arjuna far from satisfied from just once.

He pulls you into another round easily, tugging you with him till he has you ride his waist. To him behind you with you on your hands and knees bearing the brunt of each thrust he makes. The antics continuing onto the floor where you both land, you managing to get loud moans out of him when you use the egg vibrator along his cock. To him making you cum in retaliation with the clit stimulator till you beg and plead him again.

Once the archer had reduced you to a satisfied tangle of limbs, Arjuna had brought you over to the bathing area that leads to the spring. He takes care to clean you up, he has you in his arms in the water once again like the previous day. His head resting on top of your head and eyes closed. You marvel at his dark skin, your fingers tracing over where his hands are clasped at your abdomen.

You enjoy every single moment with Arjuna, your heart full. Enjoying tranquility with him. You both had one more day left to be able to indulge yourselves, before it was back to chaldea, fighting battles and wondering if the next fight will be the last one while trying to find time for yourself and Arjuna amongst many servants.

There was no other servant that you would do this with, and you would never betray him after reading his tales. Each day is a gift around him, and you cherish these moments where he is genuinely happy instead of what feels like a front around others. The possessive wrap of his arms said alot, you are his, and he is yours.

For now you two desired to care less about things that will still be there tomorrow.

#arjuna #fate arjuna #arjuna smut #fgo arjuna #arjuna x reader

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mermaidcashton · 4 years

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all the pretty girls

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: calum hood/luke hemmings, genderswap!AU prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” wordcount: 1519 warnings: swearing, hint of sexual content dedication: this one is for gay!sos group chat, and all the other wlw 5sos fans 💘 a/n: • so, i wanted wlw!5sos and established relationship, self-indulgent, domestic cuteness and i...think i have achieved that? lol • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - i will share the masterlist for you to see everyone elses when it’s finished!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘honey’ by kehlani

all the pretty girls ***

all the pretty girls in the world but i'm in this space with you

***

“Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met.” “Oh!” Luke gasped, burying her head further into Calum’s shoulder. Calum was bemused. “Haven’t you seen this movie like ten times?” “Fuck,I think I’ve seen this movie ten times.” Calum would be seriously questioning her life choices if she hadn’t taken into account that every time she’d ever watched it, she’d had the hottest woman she’d ever met pressed against her. That seriously balanced the scales of shitty cinema, in Calum’s opinion.

“It’s just so cute.” Luke sniffed. Calum pretended not to notice her wiping her nose on Calum’s sleeve; she looked cute enough in it to get away with almost anything.

Right now Luke was wearing avocado print pyjama shorts and Calum’s Santa Cruz sweatshirt (despite owning at least 300 separate items of clothing, in Calum’s most conservative estimations), with her blonde hair in a messy bun and the beginnings of a snotty nose. Her eyelashes were glossy with the tears she’d brushed away, and Calum thought she’d still be willing to watch every straight-to-video 00’s rom com ever made as long as it was what Luke wanted.

“Does this seriously not make you emotional? He gave up Paris for her! Paris, Calum!” Luke whined, craning her neck to look up at Calum from her position under her arm, her lithe body laid across the sofa.

Calum smirked. “Come on, babe; you know ‘Wall-E’ is the only movie that makes me feel anything.”

Luke rolled her eyes, but giggled all the same before pressing on insistently. “It’s so romantic, though. Isn’t this the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?” “No?” Calum scoffed, settling back against the mountain of cushions that seemed to grow every time they went to Ikea. Then it struck her. “Hang on, are you saying that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard?!”

“Yeah…” Luke let out another dreamy sigh before stilling almost imperceptibly. Oh, shit.

“What?!” Calum said, already looking more indignant than the time Luke had accidentally cheered for Arsenal insead of Liverpool (“Your Liverpool shirt is red, Calum! What the hell is an away kit?! I hate football!”). “Obviously I wasn’t includi-” Luke tried to recover, but Calum was too far gone. “I write the sickest anniversary cards! My last Valentine’s Day card to you? Fuckin’ poetry, Luke! I mean, not literally because that’s lame as fuck, but I am romantic as shit!”

Calum knew that generally speaking, people would consider Luke to be the more romantic in the relationship. Everyone who lived within 5 miles of their apartment had probably heard Luke tell Calum she loved her, or seen her entwine their hands, or pout her lips for a kiss she had to have right that second, at least twice. She was more prone to posting photos of Calum on Instagram with captions that ranged from sweet to thirsty as hell. Every time she attempted to bake for Calum, it would almost always be using a heart-shaped mould or cutter she’d found at the pound shop down the street. And at Calum’s gigs, everyone always knew exactly where she was in the crowd because Luke was yelling about the incredibly sexy bassist with the best basslines in the history of bass at every possible moment.

However, Calum thought her own brand of romance of just as valid, and Luke seemed to like it. Calum was a fan of surprising Luke with flowers, albeit wild bouquets of sunflowers and daisies rather than roses or peonies (“Wildflowers for my Wildflower.”), and of playing records on vinyl that she thought Luke would like - or that reminded her of her girlfriend - while they ate a dinner Calum had made from scratch because she’d seen a recipe online that she knew Luke would love. Calum also trusted Luke in a way that was rare for her, and lying in the dark of the their bedroom, speaking out loud things she’d never told anyone - childhood memories of her parents messy divorce, her deepest fears, greatest dreams, biggest secrets - whilst her girlfriend rubbed comforting circles over her hip and placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, felt intimate and special in a way Calum hoped Luke felt was romantic. And like she said - her card writing skills were sick.

Luke sat up on the sofa, freeing herself from underneath Calum’s arm. She clicked the pause button on the remote, dropping it onto the rug as she threw her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I take it back; you are the most romantic I only meant in, like, movies and stuff! Obviously you are the most romantic and beautiful and I love you!”

Calum sniffed, trying to keep her sad face on without breaking. “Obviously not, as I don’t have a European city to not go to for you…” Luke saw her girlfriend’s mouth twitch at the corner. Right. She tucked her long legs underneath herself, settling back on the sofa as she spoke. “Like I said, I take it back - I was wrong.”

Calum could count on one hand the amount of time she had heard Luke say those three words during their relationship, and was ready to celebrate a substantial victory, until she clocked the smile spreading across Luke’s face that spelled trouble.

Luke continued in a purposely casual voice. “The actual most romantic thing I’ve ever heard was on our third date, when you drank all those daiquiris and told me that one day you were gonna ‘fucking wife me’.” Calum groaned and tried to sink back into the sofa so it could swallow her whole; this plan was thwarted by all the Ikea cushions.

“Shut up, that wasn’t me. You must have me confused with your other girlfriend. I don’t even drink daiquiris.” Luke’s distinctive laugh filled Calum’s ears; she loved that sound (it was in her top 3 sounds that Luke made), but right now she felt so embarrassed at the memory of her nerves getting the better of her in a Tapas restaurant that she couldn’t really enjoy it.

“Maybe not anymore! But Ashton told me how much of the morning after you spent with your head in the toilet, so I guess it makes sense you gave them up.” Luke teased, her blue eyes bright with mischief.

“I hate Ashton.” Calum mumbled, with nowhere near as much heat as was currently in her cheeks.

Luke’s giggles had taken on a unmistakable air of victory; Calum could not let this stand.

“Right, that’s it; we’re watching ‘Pulp Fiction’!” Calum declared, leaning down to feel around on the floor in the dimly lit living room for the remote where Luke had abandoned it. “Noooo!” Luke whined, reaching out to grab Calum’s wrists as she rose in triumph. “Cal!” She pouted as she missed entirely. It had always made Calum laugh when Luke tried to overpower her in any way; she was clumsy, and she wasn’t quick or strong enough to get the jump on Calum, unless she cheated (which she often did). In the past, Calum had hoped Luke wouldn’t notice the way she clenched her thighs together when the blonde would wiggle against her, bite her lip, whine or pant. Inevitably, as their relationship had continued, Luke had become fully aware of the effect she had on Calum, and now employed her sexuality as a weapon against Calum whenever she deemed it necessary. Nowadays, she tended to cut to the chase, as she was now. Calum barely registered the remote being extracted from her slackening grip as Luke held the grey sweatshirt and her cropped pyjama top up above her chin with one hand. She did register Luke’s small but perfectly formed tits, and wondered briefly what they had been talking about. Luke didn’t let her clothes drop back down to cover her breasts until she’d already unpaused the movie and stashed the remote underneath the armrest on her side of the sofa.

“That...was savage.” Calum deadpanned, shaking her head as she clambered to her feet. Luke put on her most innocent smile (which was not that innocent if you knew her as well as Calum did). “Do you want another drink?” “Yes please, gorgeous.” Luke replied with her eyes still fixed to the screen, her lips moving in the time with the actress on screen with the dodgy bangs. Calum rolled her eyes fondly before making her way to their small kitchen in search of rosé.

She didn’t notice it until she closed the fridge again, but Luke had responded.

Earlier in the day, Luke had used their alphabet fridge magnets to spell out ‘BUY MORE MILK’. Upon seeing this just after lunch, Calum had immediately checked she had the right letters to arrange the obvious reply; ‘NO FUCK U’, giggling to herself the whole time she’d been doing it. She let out a snort, picking up the personalised wine glasses Michael had gifted them when they moved in together. She set off back towards the living room, idly thinking about what movie she was going to demand they put on when this torture was over.

‘NO U’.

***

my masterlist • please let me know what you think of wlw!cake and if you would like to see more of them here!

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guardiantempest · 4 years

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Learning With Manga: Riyo’s Udon Servants

Y’know, for a gag manga, Riyo has put in a lot of thought obscuring his Servant’s identities and giving out only hints throughout the comic’s run. The first three Servants (Rider, Assassin and Berserker) had their biographies spelled out in the print bookbut not their actual names (not that it’s needed, the hints were big enough).

I’m saying Udon Servants because they were apparently made by mixing Udon dough with Grail mud.

Due to the ridiculous amount of images, I’ve added a cut.

EDIT: I posted this without the cut. Oops. EDIT 2: Changed some wordings

Rider

Okay, pastel-colored bunnygirl. No specific identity tied to a rabbit (that I know of) so her appearance is a red herring. Could be anyone at this point.

Passion for filmmaking. There are a lot of influential movie people throughout history from old to new. At least the set equipment implies a director.

Severe hatred of Thomas Edison? Well, I guess that narrows it down to more old-timey directors. Back in his time he screwed over a lot of people, including many foreign filmmakers by plagiarizing their works.

A Trip to the Moon? There’s only one director who has that in his repertoire and that is Georges Méliès. That probably explains her outfit as a the rather-tangential nod to moon rabbits. Her Noble Phantasm is apparently a loooot of her film reels...made out of very volatile nitrate (which destroys Chaldea in the process). She also references older films like Purple Noon when chatting with Olga.

Assassin

Okay, woman with a gun, presumably with lingerie? Perhaps she’s a secret agent, or a modernized take on those assassin seductresses. Throughout the comic she’s shown to be adept with information gathering.

Definitely affiliated with spycraft. I don’t know any woman involved in such line of work (the one female secret agent I know is Nancy Wake, who isn’t). However this is Fate and genderswaps can be a thing. That O&C provides a pretty big hint to her identity. According to Google, it can stand for “Official and Confidential” affiliated with the one and only J. Edgar Hoover. Y’know, now that her identity is revealed in that tweet above, the comic’s art style makes it vague whether she’s really a genderswap or just crossdressing. Yes, the FBI did have a brief history of crossdressing to catch perps. Too bad her Noble Phantasm is practically useless to those who don’t care about keeping secrets.

It’s kinda funny how Riyo gives all his Servants personality quirks, like Melies’ seething hatred to Edison and occasional lapses to violent solutions. I guess this quirk is meant to be more “gap moe”, kinda like that Yakuza househusband? It’s really endearing. Still, I think Olga scored a keeper. In a standard Grail War she can be pretty useful if deployed correctly (and maybe easier to work with than Mata Hari).

I like her suit, I hope it’s one of her ascensions.

Berserker

Woah, she big. There are a lot of significant giants in mythology, and her modernized appearance provides less hints than expected. She ate Nursery Rhyme several pages later and becomes a mainstay in the Children’s Kingdom.

Keep in mind this is before All the Statesmen event on JP, but that blue ox(?) is a clear indicator to who she is: Paul Bunyan, North American folklore figure. This doesn’t come off as a surprise to us since we already had said event spelling it out for us. Unlike her murderous portrayal in the comic though, in-game she’s a total sweetheart who just wants to help...by terraforming any wild terrain in the name of civilization.

Lancer

We first see Lancer impaling Gudako in a comic. The folks in the livestream joked that she’s genderswapped Van Helsing. It seems to make sense, showing that spike. But they clarified that it was a joke so that’s out of the window.

Something of value? She’s referring to fossils. What about the lightning? It’s a reference to her real life counterpart who survived a lightning strike. That’s right, this woman is Mary Anning! A servant who’s not a genderbend this time!

Totally a raging lesbian. I’m not sure if that’s historical, a reference to a recent biopic, or merely a personality quirk. Maybe it’s an extrapolation to her network of women. One of her skills (Sea Lily Charisma) does let her attract women to help her out. Her canine companion is very cute, at least.

She does have a point. As a Lancer she wields giant prehistoric fish. From the speculation I saw on Reddit, I think it might be a reference to a manga/doujin of her being a mage and can summon living counterparts of her fossil. Her Noble Phantasm wasn’t showed because she got tag-teamed by two Sabers before she got to use it.

Archer

A cowgirl! There are quite a few notable wild west legends like Billy the Kid. This one looks like she has animal ears, or just really weird hair. Using a rope and lasso is indicative of “generic cowgirl”, for a Heroic Spirit to wield it means she must be known for using it.

Coyotes, huh? That pretty confirms it: this cowgirl Archer is Pecos Bill, raised by coyotes and most famous for lassoing a tornado (then riding it). According to the print book, one of her personal skills is Rodeo, which allows her to ride something and not fall off (but it’s in no way similar to the Riding skill). Yeah, being raised by coyotes pretty much translates to coyote animal ears...and feral instincts.

I remember reading on Reddit that one of Bill’s feats is shooting down stars, so that might be why she’s an Archer. Riyo sure is drawing from a lot of western influences.

Saber

Well this is a curveball. The very distinct attire should narrow it down though I don’t know which culture seems most appropriate. While there are more than a few pregnant women in mythologies, the comic clarifies that the real Servant is the unborn baby and the mother is just tagging along.

Well, that’s certainly something. I remember reading somewhere that back in the old ages, saunas are used instead of hospitals for childbirth in snowy regions of Europe. The unborn Servant has a Courtship skill that causes him to hit on almost every female he comes across.

There are a lot of guesses for his identity, one of which is Väinämöinen. A demigod who spent a very long time in the womb, can speak while in there, and was born an old man. The evidence feels shaky and debate rages on.

Caster

Jesus Christ, Jeanne, what are you doing?! I just added this page because it’s hilarious.

Mouse maids! A miracle that they survived getting chopped up into bits! It’s rather vague on who they are, guesses include the Rolling Riceball (which is just Benienma’s story) and Ratatouille, funnily enough. Most of their appearances so far is just pandering for Gudako (giving Onigiri, enabling the WiFi, providing Dakimakuras) as an effect of one of their Personal Skills (Servitude).

Their profile says that this isn’t their true form (maybe as a consequence of getting turned to noodles). Their Territory Creation should allow them to make a dreamland and provide anything, but for now all they can make is a good-enough kitchen and onigiri.

Another Personal Skill is Reproduction, which allows them to rapidly increase their numbers when left alone. Nonstop. This can get out of hand fast. People in the comment section were speculating various rat-related myths, primarily ones with a swarm theme.

Although it seems the rats are up to something.

Well that’s terrifying. A guy on Reddit assumed that the mice is connected to Raigo, the accursed monk. I thought it was a very dark take on a folklore/fairy tale, something about mice fattening up someone to eat them.

Okay, the mallet and the sack is definitely a clue. Apparently that represents Daikokuten, who is frequently portrayed with mice near him. I understand what they were trying to do. All this time they were trying to build up for their true power. A god of good fortune and/or prosperity is not to be messed with, especially if he’s currently incarnating RIyo Gudako as a pseudo-servant.

I think their Modus Operandi is pretty horrifying, yet also makes sense. A Master cannot simply summon a god under normal circumstances but summoning its herald(s) who, in turn, will make way for their patron deity seems totally fair.

#learning with manga #fate grand order #fgo #fate series #paul bunyan

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zephfair · 6 years

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Day 24 Genderswap fics

Somehow and for some bizarre reason I don’t even know, I wrote not one not two but three fills for this. O_o

Unfortunately, the two Bleach fics turned into pure smut because any time Grimmjow and Ichigo are alone in a room (alley, street, wilderness etc) they just start to bone. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong and why every single iteration of them is so horny, but there it is. I blame them fully. Even when one of them is temporarily female-bodied, they still just want to get it on. So, I’m not posting those two fics on here because smut.

Instead, here’s a little FFVII ficlet I started for a Clack week sometime (last year, I think?) and never finished. It’s fluffy and supposed to be funny. Nothing fazes Zack for long.

But beware GENDERSWAP, TEMPORARY FEMALE BODY.

If I need more warnings, please let me know.

The brunette bounced up to Cloud and when he realized just how bouncy the one big part was bouncing, Cloud tore his eyes away. He focused instead on the bright blue eyes smiling at him even as one lithe but firmly muscular arm slung around his shoulders.

Cloud tensed as the woman pulled him close, much stronger than he expected, and bent him until he had his head cushioned on that magnificent bosom. Cloud felt everything grow hot.

“Ma'am?” he tried to mumble but the woman had both arms around him now.

“Aren't they amazing?” he heard the muffled voice as his ears were hidden in the glorious cleavage.

“What?”

“The breasts. They're incredible.” As soon as the woman released him, Cloud jumped back, his face on fire and tried to straighten up to hide his other growing problem.

But the woman had moved her hands to her own breasts which did not appear to be hampered or constrained by any kind of … device… Although Cloud wasn't familiar with women's apparel, he was pretty darn sure that must hurt. But she was grinning and fondling herself, bouncing them in her hands and squeezing, and Cloud was sure this was some kind of practical joke and she must be some kind of…

“Boobs, Cloud! They feel even better than I'd imagined! You gotta try this,” and just like that the woman snatched his hand away from just below his belt and placed it firmly over her left breast. And then she jiggled. And Cloud was pretty sure his nose started to bleed.

“What is… who are you?” Cloud sputtered, trying in vain to pull his hand away even while the woman was flexing it onto her—to be fair, perfectly rounded and full, marvelous—breast.

“It's me,” the woman said unhelpfully.

“I don’t know you!” Cloud nearly shrieked.

“You really don’t recognize … It’s me, Zack!”

Cloud’s brain could not comprehend what he was hearing. His friend was definitely a man, like, most definitely a man. But this woman did talk like him and had the same energy and very similar eyes in her stunning face.

Cloud stared a little deeper at her eyes and squeezed her breast again without even realizing it. The woman—Zack?—just looked amused.

“Oh my word, Zack? That is you?”

“Absolutely, babe,” she winked at him.

Then Cloud got a truly horrible thought and snatched his hand away. “What happened to you?! Oh no, is this a side effect of mako treatments? Does this happen to SOLDIERS?” Cloud’s voice kept getting higher as his terror rose and it was almost enough to kill his arousal.

“Ha, no. This was a mix-up with some materia and at least one angry Turk. The science department is pretty sure it's only temporary and should wear off, but wow.” Zack did another little jump and Cloud was mesmerized now by the move and the … waves it created.

“That's … really…” Cloud had no words. Now he saw the sword, the uniform, the still narrow waist, the wider hips. The hair was the same but the face had softened a little. Zack noticed the long appraising look and did something that made it seem he? She? Was looking up at Cloud through still-thick eyelashes even though he was still—unfairly—taller.

“You know what?” Zack whispered. “The changes go all the way down. You wanna check it out?”

Cloud reared back and Zack pouted. The look was familiar on Zack's male face and it looked much the same now.

“That's just wrong,” Cloud sputtered.

“Why?”

“Because it's not yours!”

“Well, whose is it?” Zack even stood a little differently, hip cocked out as he rested his hand on it.

“They're not real!”

“They feel very real,” Zack leered and that expression was also terribly familiar.

“You know what I mean,” Cloud hissed. “They don't belong to you. It's like assault.”

“Well who do they belong to? It's not like the materia took them away from some woman and put them on me. It's more like it just bent reality and gave me what would have been mine, if I'd been a girl.” Zack jiggled again. “So they're mine now and I want to take them out and play. You want to come up and try out the goods?”

“That's just … icky.”

“Icky?” Zack drooped and his bottom lip quivered.

Cloud noticed how pink and full it was. He shuffled nervously and whispered. “Not...icky exactly. You know I like girls.”

“And boys,” Zack recovered his good mood and puckered up into kissy lips. Cloud blushed bright red.

“I'm just very confused because you're always one and now you're the other.”

“But your dick isn't confused,” Zack squawked in glee while Cloud covered himself as Zack laughted. Then he sidled up to Cloud and walked smaller fingers up Cloud's arm to his shoulder. “Let's give it a try, break in the new equipment. It'll be a first for both of us.”

“You haven't been with a girl before?” Cloud was amazed but Zack looked shifty.

“I haven't been a girl before,” he answered then reached down and grabbed a handful of Cloud's butt. “Let's give it a try before I turn back. There are a lot of things I've always wanted to do.”

“Like what exactly?”

“Shopping,” Zack said promptly. “And chocolate cake suddenly sounds heavenly. And I want to show Aerith these puppies while they last. She’ll be jealous.” Zack grabbed his breasts and looked like he was going to get distracted again.

But when he smiled at Cloud, Cloud knew exactly where his attention was. “And after we get back, I want to take you to bed and get you to do dirty, filthy things to me.” She leaned down to his ear and whispered, “Or I’ll do dirty, filthy things to you, your choice.”

And so Cloud figured he was probably the first person ever who had lost his virginity not once but twice to the same person. Zack crowed that he was just good like that.

#my fic #my 30 days #cloud/zack #ffvii fic #i still don't know how to keep grimm/ichi from turning everything smutty #how do i keep them from having sex on every surface #please send help #lols

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brawltogethernow · 7 years

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Neutral Element - Cute Date Ideas: Dissect a Corpse!

A post on @greyskiesallclear’s blog suggested a “deuteragonist genderswap” of Girl Genius - Gil and Zeetha raised in each other’s places, Tarvek sacrificed to the Summoning Engine. And I was like *strokes chin* *really strokes chin* *reaches out and strokes someone else’s chin*.

Daily installments this week, then slower ones. Eventually everything will be collected polished up and chronological on AO3. For now, enjoy instances from along the timeline presented semirandomly. I’m not following the novels as a style guide for capitalizing terms &c., but may have a crisis of conviction and go back and edit everything at some point.

Installment Masterlist

Pairings: Agatha/Gil, slightest Agatha/Lars; Other characters: Zeetha; Length: 2k; Content notes: see the title ↑. Set right after this AU’s version of “Agatha’s Bad Plan”.

Previously in her adventures, Agatha was kidnapped by the baron who rules over the continent of Europe, befriended the baron’s son, a boisterous green-haired swordsman, discovered she was the lost heir to a family of infamous mad scientists, and then escaped with said son (and a talking cat) into the wastelands that dominate most of the continent. Undercover in a traveling circus, Agatha met the lost princess of a hidden city, an accomplished biologist and aeronaut, as she traveled across the wastes. ...Fair reader, why is it that I feel like you knew most of this already?

Agatha gets back into the blue blouse-and-peasant-skirt ensemble she was wearing that day (on loan from Pix) and packs a scant bag of supplies. She pats Krosp on the head and picks her way down from her wagon the first time the caravan collectively slows to turn a bend. She paces a short distance into the dark from the procession of vehicles, animals, and people, then puts her bag on the ground and kneels down to double check whether she has everything she may need.

“Sneaking out?” says Zag. He’s done that creepy thing where he sneaks up on her again, and Agatha, who tells herself she should be used to it by now, tries not to jump.

“I’m not going into Passholdt,” says Agatha. “…Probably,” she adds to be fair.

Zag stares at her consideringly, and she waits for him to admonish her. “You need backup?” he says instead.

Agatha smiles. This, this is why she let him come with her. “No. I mean, I think I’ll have some. And I know where the trouble is, so I think I should know how to avoid it.”

“You’ll have backup?” says Zag, looking at her expectantly.

Agatha responds with a rigid sheepish grin.

“…Uh huh,” says Zag finally, eyebrows quirking. “The wagons are going to pick up the pace again soon. How are you going to catch up?”

“I’ll handle that. I was looking at the maps Abner was planning with earlier, so I know the route.”

“That doesn’t really tackle the important part of the question.”

“Handled! Honest!”

“Your heroic escapades aren’t going to get you out of your morning run.”

Agatha groans.

Zag beams at her sadistically.

She stands up and picks her bag up to leave, and pauses, fidgeting. “I met someone who’s good at biology,” she says. “I’m just going to ask her for a second opinion.”

Zag furrows his forehead at her. “A spark? You met a spark in the Wastelands?”

Agatha waves her arms at the sleeping circus trundling by a few yards from them. “We met all these people in the Wastelands.”

Zag’s expression is still dubious for some reason. “Yeah, but…that’s not…” He breaks off, eyeing her and doing more things with his eyebrows.

“What?” she asks. “Why does everyone always stare at me!”

Zag rolls his eyes and sighs. “Oh, you,” he says, reaching out and ruffling her hair fondly.

“What?” demands Agatha. “Agh! Zagreus!”

He draws back his hand before she can catch it and enact revenge, grinning. “Well, don’t get yourself killed! I’ve put too much work into you, and we haven’t even started on swords yet.”

“Oh, god,” says Agatha.

Gil is more amenable than she expected. She helps her find one of the things, and then she helps her take it apart.

To Agatha’s surprise, Gil’s reaction to her visiting her camp in the middle of the night was not confusion or hostility, but to beam at her and go, “Oh, Agatha!” She looked so pleased, and Agatha’s heart warmed momentarily.

It takes them about an hour to trek to the bridge, collect the most intact corpse, and drag it enough of a distance away from the area to dispel both of their heebie-jeebies. They splay it out on a big, reasonably flat rock. The rock is reasonably flat because something sliced the top off of it: It’s lying upright about twenty meters away. They triple check the specimen for the vital signs of the living and the unquiet dead, and then make a Y-incision.

It turns out that being allowed to get involved in dissection is disgusting. Agatha’s face feels like it’s acquired a permanently pursed expression. Gil wasn’t talking herself up: She’s examining the creature like an expert, not even blinking at the…mess. “Bone structure and musculature have both been radically altered,” she says, peering through a huge set of goggles. “But I think you’re right — this is baseline human.”

Agatha swallows her distaste and leans over it. “But are they people who have been altered, or just based on the template?”

Gil taps its hand against her (gloved) palm. “These weren’t grown in a vat; too inefficient.” She rotates a partly stripped joint. “And the wear on the bones is wrong. And I doubt they were imported — the alteration looks too recent, for one thing. And if they’re traveled here, they’d have left a swathe of destruction along the landscape. It’s not pretty, but — I’d say these are the townspeople.

Agatha exhales through her teeth. “So there’s nothing left to save.”

“Even if what did this didn’t get every citizen, Agatha…” Gil gestures at it. “Do you think you could survive camped out in a town swarming with these?”

“…No.”

Neither of them posits whether they could take on a town swarming with these. But Agatha feels better, knowing that Gil also wants to. She’s not that strange, not irrational to want to help.

“…Maybe some of them escaped,” she says.

“Maybe,” says Gil.

They stand there for a moment.

Gil cracks her shoulders. “Well, might as well finish examining this. If we figure more things out, maybe we could trace the source, or prepare the Baron’s people a little more.”

They dig in, and have barely started when they turn up the first oddity.

“What is this?” says Gil, extricating an object from the creature’s chest cavity.

The spiky shape is mostly decalcified shell, but is unmistakably the remains of a foreign biological structure. Whatever was inside the exoskeleton is mostly disintegrated, and it hangs floppy from her forceps.

Agatha pales, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, I think it’s a Wasp. They are revenants!”

“Rev —” Gil fumbles the tongs, horrified. “This is one of those things that turns people into mindless monsters? But — I didn’t think those did anything like this!” She gestures at the figure on the rock, its pulpy skin and twisted body.

“It must be some kind of new strain,” says Agatha, taking the forceps from her gingerly. “Master Payne was right. We have to report this. The Baron —” She shudders. “He isn’t very nice, but I know he doesn’t like Other tech.”

Gil bends back over the unnaturally lanky corpse and begins digging around, making little dissatisfied noises.

Agatha waves her hands around. “To develop something like this, you would definitely need access to the original versions of the slavers! Which means someone has a hive engine! Maybe even another new one! There was a new one on — in Beetleburg.”

(Wrist-deep in organ meat, Gil flashes a quick look at her and hums consideringly.)

Agatha waves her hands around, the urge to rant more anxious than mad. “It could mean anything!” she says. “It could be the start of another war! And I —”

Gil puts a hand on her wrist. To avoid touching anything that isn’t gloved with her gummy hands, Agatha realizes. “If this is something like that, breaking down how they work is even more important.”

Agatha makes a displeased but assenting sound, and leans in to help her strip it down.

After — long enough to give her a neck crick — Agatha pulls back and strips off her gloves. It’s gotten cooler as the night wears on, and the slick fluids on them are catching the cold. More importantly, she wants the better handheld light she brought from her pack, and she is not getting monster goo on it.

Gil has picked apart one of its eyeballs (yeuch) and is examining all the little parts, which doesn’t seem very precise, but then they are in the middle of a scrubby field. “Looks like they have improved night vision, but that makes them light-sensitive and decreases their vision overall. You said they rampaged when you shot at them? Was there a bright light?”

“Well, yes,” says Agatha, rummaging. She looks up. “But also a loud sound and, you know, it’s a death ray. It’s for zapping and burning things.”

Gil is staring at the skull. “I think they must navigate mostly by scent. You see this structuring here?”

Wait a second. “By scent?” says Agatha, having a hint of an inkling.

“Yeah, looks like,” says Gil, jabbing at something deformed and membranous. “Not really very efficient, but it’s effective enough.”

“Wait, says Agatha, “so —”

There’s a crack in the bushes behind them, and then they’re jumped by five Passholdt monsters.

“SO IF THEORETICALLY WE DRAGGED ONE ACROSS THE COUNTRYSIDE, THEY COULD FOLLOW THE TRAIL THEN?!” shouts Agatha as they haul tail away from their rabid entourage.

“THAT SEEMS LIKE A SOLID HYPOTHESIS, YES,” shouts Gil, slicing at them with both arms as she tries to slash and run backwards at the same time.

Agatha, as Zag so kindly reminded her, isn’t up to swords. They fall into a pattern: Gil keeps the monsters off of Agatha, and Agatha comes up with a plan to take them out and executes it. The amount of faith the other woman has in her strikes Agatha as faintly ridiculous, but there isn’t really time to argue.

Though the flailing of their gangling limbs and their tendency to crawl over each other makes them look like a bit of a mob, there are only about twenty mutated revenants on their tail. In the end, Agatha crushes them, all at once.

With a piece of a cliff.

She got the idea from their impromptu lab table.

She tugs Gil out of the way with a full-body hug — Gil is taller than her. They both go stumbling, there’s a ground-shaking boom, and then they’re both left, clutching at each other, standing in a silent expanse next to a new hillock. There’s a beat of silence. Their grips loosen.

“Woo!” whoops Agatha. “That was GREAT!” She grabs Gil by the leather straps and plants a kiss on her mouth, then spins around. “Did you see us?! We blew up a mountain! I blew up a mountain!”

“…What?” says Gil faintly.

The night air is chilly, but Agatha feels warm enough to power Mr. Tock. “And I didn’t even ruin my dress this time! Ha! Take that, insidious pattern of destruction!” …It’s still kind of the worse for wear from the explosion that evening, but there’s no new damage, anyway.

“You did, you did blow up a mountain,” says Gil, responses slightly delayed.

“Wow! Wow,” says Agatha, blood still singing with it. “We should do that more often!”

“…W-we should?” says Gil, who also seems flushed, and no wonder, what an adventure, ha!

“Definitely,” says Agatha.

“Guh,” says Gil.

“…So! Can your flying machine outpace land-based travel?”

Agatha spends most of the morning konked out in her wagon, for some reason.

“Geez, Z, maybe you should go a little easier on her,” says Lars.

Zag snorts, staring at his student judgingly.

“…If she’s been here, who was driving Baba Yaga earlier?”

“I think she might have made it drive itself now.”

“…Wow.”

Zag smirks at him. “Oh, yeah.”

“No! Not like — ! …I, uh, have to go. Perimeter to scout. Y-you know.”

Agatha, you broke the princess.

“Lars Falls in Love” happens as per normal canon. Yeah. Those are right on top of each other. IT’S OKAY, IT’S FINE, AGATHA IS PROBABLY POLYAMOROUS IT’S FINE.

In mythology Zagreus is either another name for Dionysus (Greek god of partying, cha cha cha!), or his own entity. In either case the story goes that a goddess took offense at his existence and tried to assassinate him in infancy (and succeeded: the common trait of stories including this name is Zagreus being torn to pieces), but his father absconded with him and restored him to life.

#girl genius #i never thought i would write a genderswap #but apparently what it takes to make the trope interesting to me is to have differences be due to external forces rather than internal ones #and that are more specific than/don't boil down to 'the omnipresent scourge of sexism that weighs on us all'#strap in #ggne #fic #w

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kurtty-drabbles · 5 years

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Genderswapped: The Merchant of Venice

N/A: For Literary Week, Kurt's and Kitty's Literature Classes put up a joint reenactment of Shakespeare's 'The Merchant of Venice'. Guess who gets cast as Bassanio and Portia?

****************************************************************************

Two weeks before the joint play...

Kurt and Kitty are in the Institute's yard, practicing their lines.

And hence, we cut to Act Three, Scene Two of The Merchant of Venice.

“Please wait a day or two before making your choice.” Kitty starts, reciting her lines. “If you choose wrong, I’ll lose your company. So wait a while. Something tells me, not love, but something, that I don’t want to lose you, and you know that if I hated you I wouldn’t think that. But let me put it more clearly in case you don’t understand: though I know girls aren’t supposed to express their thoughts, I’m just saying I’d like you to stay here for a month or two before you undergo the test for me. I could tell you how to choose correctly, but then I’d be disregarding the oath I took. So I’ll never tell. But you might lose me by making the wrong choice. If you do choose wrong, you’ll make me wish for something very bad. I’d wish I had ignored my oath and told you everything. God, your eyes have bewitched me. They’ve divided me in two. One half of me is yours, and the other half, my own half, I’d call it, belongs to you too. If it’s mine, then it’s yours, and so I’m all yours. But in this awful day and age people don’t even have the right to their own property! So though I’m yours, I’m not yours. If there’s no chance for me to be yours, then it’s just bad luck. I know I’m talking too much, but I do that just to make the time last longer, and to postpone your test.”

“Let me choose now.” Kurt takes over, with a lovelorn look in his eyes. “I feel tortured by all this talking.”

“Tortured, Bassanio?” Kitty expression. “Then confess to your crime. Tell us about the treason you’ve mixed in with your love.”

“The only treason I’m guilty of is worrying that I’m never going to get to enjoy you.” Kurt is now grasping Kitty's hands in his own. “Treason has nothing at all to do with my love. They’re as opposite as hot and cold.”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure I believe what you’re saying.” Kitty cast a contemplative look. “Men under torture will confess anything.”

“Promise me you’ll let me live, and I’ll confess the truth.” Kurt answers.

Kitty nods, “All right then, confess and live.”

“'Confess and love' is more like it.” Kurt sighs. “Oh, torture’s fun when my torturer tells me what I have to say to go free! But let me try my luck on the boxes.”

“Go ahead, then.” Kitty urges. “I’m locked in one of them. If you really love me, you’ll find me. Nerissa and the rest of you, get away from him. Play some music while he chooses. Then if he loses, it’ll be his swan song, music before the end. And since swans need water to swim in, I’ll cry him a river when he loses. But on the other hand, he may win. What music should we play then? If he wins, the music should be like the majestic trumpets that blare when subjects bow to a newly crowned monarch. It’s the sweet sounds at daybreak that the dreaming bridegroom hears on his wedding morning, calling him to the church.”

“You can’t always judge a book by its cover.” Kurt pauses some distance away from Kitty, pretending the three boxes are in front of him. “People are often tricked by false appearances. In court, someone can deliver a false plea but hide its wickedness with a pretty voice. In religion, don’t serious men defend sins with Scripture, covering up evil with a show of good. Every sin in the world manages to make itself look good somehow. How many people are cowards at heart but wear beards like Hercules or Mars, the god of war? Take another example: beauty. It can be bought by the ounce in makeup, which works miracles. Women who wear it the most are respected the least. It’s the same thing with hair. Curly golden hair moves so nicely in the wind and makes a woman beautiful. But you can buy that kind of hair as a wig, and wigs are made from dead people’s hair. Decoration’s nothing but a danger, meant to trick and trap the viewer. A lovely, cunning shore can distract a man from the perils of a stormy sea, just as a pretty scarf can hide a dangerous dark-skinned beauty. Nowadays, everyone’s fooled by appearances. So I’ll have nothing to do with that gaudy gold box: it’s like the gold that Midas couldn’t eat. And I’ll have nothing to do with the pale silver either, the metal that common coins are made of. But this humble lead one, though it looks too threatening to promise me anything good, moves me more than I can say. So this is the one I choose. I hope I’m happy with my choice! What do we have here? A picture of beautiful Portia! What artist captured her likeness so well? Are these eyes moving? Or do they just seem to move as my eyes move? Her sweet breath forces her lips open, a lovely divider of lovely lips. And look at her hair, looking like a golden mesh to trap the hearts of men, like little flies in a cobweb. The painter was like a spider in creating it so delicately. But her eyes; how could he keep looking at them long enough to paint them? I would’ve expected that when he finished one of them, it would have enraptured him and kept him from painting the other. But I’m giving only faint praise of the picture, just as the picture, as good as it is, is only a faint imitation of the real woman herself. Here’s the scroll that sums up my fate: You who don’t judge by looks alone, have better luck, and make the right choice. Since this prize is yours, be happy with it, and don’t look for a new one. If you’re happy with what you’ve won and accept this prize as your blissful destiny, then turn to where your lady is, and claim her with a loving kiss. A nice message.” he turns to the blushing Kitty. “My lady, with your permission, this note authorizes me to give myself to you with a kiss. But I’m in a daze, like someone who’s just won a contest and thinks that all the applause and cheering is for him, but isn’t sure yet. And so, beautiful lady, I’m standing here just like that, wondering whether all this can be true until you tell me it is.”

“You see me standing here, Lord Bassanio.” Kitty's blush fades slightly. “What you see is what you get. Though I wouldn’t wish to be better for my own sake, for your sake I wish I were twenty times more than myself: a thousand times more beautiful and ten thousand times richer, just so you might value me more, so my good qualities, beauty, possessions, and friends would be more than you could calculate. What you’re getting is an innocent and inexperienced girl. I’m happy that at least I’m not too old to learn new things. I’m even happier that I’m not stupid, and I can learn. I’m happiest of all that I’m yours now, my lord, my king, and you can guide me as you wish. Everything I am and everything I have now belongs to you. Just a minute ago I was the owner of this beautiful mansion, master of these servants, and queen over myself. But as of right this second all these things are yours. With this ring I give them all to you. If you ever give away this ring or lose it, it means our love’s doomed, and I’ll have a right to be angry with you.”

Kurt draws Kitty into a hug, reciting his lines, “Madam, you’ve left me speechless, but my feelings are responding to your words. I’m as confused as a crowd of people going wild after hearing their prince give a speech. But the day I take this ring off will be the day I die. If you see me without it, you can be confident I’m dead.”

The 'couple' share a kiss.

****************************************************************************

On the day of the play...

We cut to Act 4 Scene 1 where Kitty enters the courtroom.

“And this is the legal professor, I take it.” the student playing the Duke addresses Kitty. “Let me shake your hand. Did old Bellatrix send you here?”

“Yes, my lord.” Kitty returns the handshake.

“Welcome. Please have a seat.” the student playing the Duke leads Kitty over. “Are you familiar with the case currently before the court?”

“Yes, thoroughly.” Kitty responds. “Which one is the merchant? And which one is the Jew?”

“Antonio and Shylock, both of you come forward.” the Duke turns to the student playing Antonio and Lance, who is playing Shylock.

“Your case is most unusual, though the Venetian law can’t stop you from proceeding.” Kitty admits to Lance. Turning to the student playing Antonio, she questions, “He has a claim on you, correct?”

“Yes, so he says.” the student playing Antonio confirms.

“Do you acknowledge the contract?” Kitty presses.

“Yes, I do.” the student playing Antonio confirms again.

“Then the Jew must show you mercy.” Kitty declares. “No one shows mercy because he has to.” she tries to reason “It just happens, the way gentle rain drops on the ground. Mercy is a double blessing. It blesses the one who gives it and the one who receives it. It’s strongest in the strongest people. It looks better in a king than his own crown looks on him. The king’s scepter represents his earthly power, the symbol of majesty, the focus of royal authority. But mercy is higher than the scepter. It’s enthroned in the hearts of kings, a quality of God himself. Kingly power seems most like God’s power when the king mixes mercy with justice. So although justice is your plea, Jew, consider this. Justice won’t save our souls. We pray for mercy, and this same prayer teaches us to show mercy to others as well. I’ve told you this to make you give up this case. If you pursue it, this strict court of Venice will need to carry out the sentence against the merchant there.”

“I take all responsibility for my decisions.” Lance retorts. “I want the law, the penalty, and the fulfillment of my contract.”

“Please, let me review the contract.” Kitty requests.

“Here it is, judge, here it is.” Lance hands the contract over.

“I beg the court to deliver the verdict.” the student playing Antonio is resigned.

“Well, then, here it is: you must prepare yourself for his knife.” Kitty passes judgment. “The law fully authorizes the penalty, which you have to pay according to the contract. So bare your chest.”

“Yes, his chest!” Lance nods vigorously. “That’s what the contract says, doesn’t it, judge? 'Nearest his heart.' Those are the very words.”

“Is there a scale here to weigh the flesh?” Kitty asks.

“I have it ready.” Lance produces the scale.

“Pay a surgeon to stand by and bind his wounds, Shylock, so he doesn’t bleed to death.” Kitty instructs.

“Is that called for in the contract?” Lance asks.

“Not explicitly, but so what?” Kitty inquires. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be charitable.”

“I can’t find it. It’s not in the contract.” Lance insists.

“A pound of this merchant’s flesh is yours.” Kitty declares. “The court awards it and the law authorizes it. And you have to cut this flesh from his chest. The law allows it, and the court awards it.”

“What a wise judge!” Lance crows “Come on, get ready.”

“But wait a moment.” Kitty halts Lance. “There’s something else. This contract doesn’t give you any blood at all. The words expressly specify 'a pound of flesh'. So take your penalty of a pound of flesh, but if you shed one drop of Christian blood when you cut it, the state of Venice will confiscate your land and property under Venetian law.”

“Is that the law?” stunned, Lance stammers.

“You can see for yourself.” Kitty nods “You asked for justice, so rest assured you’ll get more justice than you bargained for.”

“In that case I’ll take their offer.” Lance backpedals. “Pay me three times the amount of the loan and let the Christian go.”

“Here is the money.” Kurt hands over the bag of coins.

“Wait!” Kitty halts the proceedings. “The Jew will have justice. Wait, don’t rush! He’s not getting anything except the penalty. So get ready to cut off the flesh. Don’t shed any blood, or cut less or more than exactly a pound of flesh. If you take more or less than exactly a pound, even if it’s just the tiniest fraction of an ounce; if the scale changes by even so much as a hair, you die, and all your property will be confiscated. Why is the Jew waiting?” she questions, seeing Lance hesitate. “Take your penalty.”

“Give me my money and let me go.” Lance pleas.

“I have it ready for you.” Kurt holds out the bag of coins. “Here it is.”

“No, he refused it publicly, in open court.” Kitty reminds. “He will have only justice and his penalty.”

“I won’t even get the original three thousand ducats back?” Lance is aghast.

“You can’t have anything but the penalty, to be taken at your peril, Jew.” Kitty states.

“Well, then, I hope he chokes on it!” Lance snaps. “I’m not staying here to argue anymore.”

“Wait a minute, Jew.” Kitty continues. “The law has another hold on you. The laws of Venice state that if a foreign resident directly or indirectly attempts to kill any citizen, the person he tried to kill will receive one half of the foreigner’s goods. The other half goes to the state. Whether the offending person lives or dies is up to the duke: there’s no one else to appeal to. In your predicament you’ve earned that punishment, because you’ve clearly contrived indirectly, and directly too, to take the life of the defendant. So get down on your knees and beg mercy from the Duke.”

“I want you to see the difference between us, so I pardon you even before you ask for a pardon.” the student playing the Duke tells Lance. “Half of your wealth goes to Antonio. The other half goes to the state. However, if you show a proper humility, I may reduce this penalty to a fine.”

“Yes, the state’s half can be reduced, but not Antonio’s.” Kitty confirms.

“No, go ahead and take my life.” Lance is in complete despair. “Don’t pardon that. You take my house away when you take the money I need for upkeep. You take my life when you take away my means of making a living.”

“What mercy can you show him, Antonio?” Kitty turns to the student playing Antonio.

“If the Duke and his court agree to set aside the fine for one half of his property, I’m happy, as long as he lets me have the other half in trust, to give it to the gentleman who recently stole his daughter.” the student playing Antonio answers. “I only ask two more things. First, Shylock must immediately become a Christian. Second, he must make a will here in this court that leaves all his property to his son-in-law Lorenzo and his daughter when he dies.”

“Are you satisfied, Jew?” Kitty turns to Lance. “What do you say?”

“I’m satisfied.” Lance sighs. “Please let me go. I’m not well. Send the deed after me and I’ll sign it.”

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yukithesnowman314 · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1

Visual Novels (Part 1)

Anime Weekend Atlanta (AWA) left me starving. Starving for more. More networking opportunity. More ways to get my name out there. More ways to improve myself. On the final day of the convention, my crew and I went to smoke a blunt on our hotel’s garage parking rooftop before leaving our city for an eight-hour trip back home to St. Louis. As we smoked, we spoke about our successes and “failures”. Wins and losses. Triumphs and disappointments. Out of my team, I had the most wins; since I set my sights to hit the majority of my goals (such as making money bartending at a friend’s room party, networking with people within the industry, etc.).

They congratulated me for success and were happy for me. But I wasn’t.

Sure, I hit a few goals. I went out and did what I was supposed to do build my brand. You’re not supposed to be praised for doing your job like everyone else. I wasn’t happy that I didn’t do more. I was disappointed at myself for allowing myself to get sidetracked and play myself. However, these disappointments, combined with my success started to fire me up. Disappointment turned into desire. Desire turned into drive. Drive turned into action and planning.

For once in my life, I was excited to go back home after a vacation. I needed to go back so I could plan out the next year con season, write about my adventures. And of course, work my ass off for the next con season and come back completely dominating it.

Anime Weekend Atlanta left me starving.

On Friday, I went to a panel that caught my attention weeks prior: “Whatever Happened to Visual Novel Anime?”. I have a slight interest in the genre and was wondering why visual novels and anime based on the niche have been on the decline for the past 3-7 years. I went; seeking knowledge from somebody who was much wiser than myself.

The panel started. The host introduced himself, spoke about his passion for visual novels ,and revealed an amazing fact about himself: The panelist – Chris Adamson – is a writer for Anime News Network.

I had to network with him; no matter what.

Note to self: Let the camera autofocus before snapping a pic.

I was in awe by the deep knowledge Chris dropped on us about the history of visual novels anime and why they were not as popular as they were back in the 2000s. The answers were “simple”, yet layered with complex facts. The facts included the following: the lack of effort and innovation from VN creators. Long-time fans losing interest. Animators struggling to add every minor detail form the visual novels into the anime version. There were also the lack of sales of products relating to the anime and visual novels.

Chris broke down every little detail with graphs, pictures, videos, audio, cited sources, sales figures, you name it. He was armed and prepared to attack us with knowledge and education. Clearly, he studied this genre with depth. Clearly, he was passionate about visual novels and wants it to see it recover from its slump.

At the end of the panel, he left the floor open for questions. I shoot my hand up high in the air before anyone else (if you’re ain’t first your last) and asked him this question:

Do you think there will a renaissance of visual novels and anime based on anime, and if they the VN industry does crash, do you see it rising from its ashes?

I’ve since forgotten most of Chris’s reply (thanks to smoking weed all weekend and being an idiot for not recording the panel), but he brought up an interesting point: He does believe that visual novels could come back, thanks to the success of the American visual novel Doki Doki Literature Club (DDLC) with its innovating meta-narrative (he even suggests that a DDLC anime could work through streaming services with Monika going through your watch history, fucking with the audio/video, etc.). Chris also mentioned that with more Americans entering the VN fray that could lead to the niche revival from a Western’s standpoint.

After the panel, I was completely floored and astonished by his wisdom. I had to network with him. Deep down in me, there was a fire building up. The fire of craving more knowledge. There were other guys with me who also had that fire in them. Out of the 20-30 people in attendance, only five of us stay after the panel (to speak with Chris). Two were working on their own visual novels, two were fans of the genre and also hungry for more knowledge, and of course, me; who was moved by this.

As we were finishing talking, a Yuri and Natsuki (DDLC) cosplayers walked past us. We all smiled as we were just talking about DDLC earlier. I smiled even harder; as it got me excited to rock my Monika genderswap cosplay the next morning on Day 3.

And by the next morning, I mean I decided to have shots of rum for breakfast and plotted to wear my “No Coonin’!” shirt to The People of Color (I fucking hate how black people us that term as a black man) Photoshoot in hopes of offending any self-hating Uncle Toms/Coons/Nergo Bed Wench nigga nerds with it at the shoot instead of cosplaying as Monika at the shoot.

Which, said plot was used against me.

Coon train is coming!

I arrived at the shoot. Since it was a multi-media shoot, the host had people take group photos by genre (movies, anime, comics, etc.). Of course, you had cosplayers from comics, video games, and anime. Mainstream shit. However, nobody was cosplaying from any visual novels series (a testament of the decline of interest towards visual novels). I was sad and angry. Sad because there aren’t many Black nerds who are into visual novels. Angry at myself for deciding to (unsuccessfully) troll people with my shirt and not going to the shoot with wearing my Monika cosplay.

This is me being utterly arrogant, but I don’t give a shit: If I would have gone with that Monika cosplay, I would have been the only Black cosplayer in that group doing a visual novel character cosplay. Is Doki Doki Literature Club a normie tier meme visual novel? Yes. But it’s still a visual novel. And I would have earned that honor and respect of doing something out of the norm. A black man. Doing a gendswap cosplay. Of a visual novel character. A piece of media which black people don’t really fuck with.

I could have spoken good game about the visual novel niche and get my fellow Black nerds hip on it. I could have introduced people who never played a VN before into a new world; which in turn could have gotten people into playing them.

But I’m a fucking idiot.

(By the way, there’s going to be more of my arrogance later. Please leave if you’re offended by people having pride in themselves and their passion).

From The POC Cosplayer Shoot

I left the POC shoot and decided to take a few pics inside the convention center. As I’m wandering around I spot a black woman wearing a shrine maiden outfit. Red pants, disconnected sleeves, white top, and purple hair. For a split second, I thought she was cosplaying as the PC98 era Reimu from Touhou (Highly Responsive to Prayers, Lotus Land Story, etc.) and I was smiling from ear-to-ear at the “fact” that there was a black woman cosplaying as the old-school version of Red Sanae.

Upon further inspection, she wasn’t wearing Reimu’s trademark red bow, but rather black horns with cracks in them.

Wait, is she cosplaying as Hanyuu from Higurashi I asked myself.

I poked her on her shoulder and asked. She smiled and I started to geeked out. Somebody still has love for Higurashi and is cosplaying at the con; (to my knowledge) she was the only Higurashi cosplayer at the con. Either way, I was just fucking happy to see somebody cosplay as a character from one of my favorite visual novel anime series.

I took her picture of course and told her that her cosplay was lovely. My only regret is that I didn’t tell her I appreciate her for cosplay as a Higurashi character and that it made me want to do a When They Cry cosplay again (I used to cosplay as Goat Butler from Umineko for a while). I should had left my friends behind and let them go back to the hotel while I chopped up some game with the woman.

It’s funny because days prior to AWA, I had two When They Cry related dreams. The first dream was of me at Anime Weekend Atlanta. I was cosplaying as a genderswap Bernkastel, but I got kicked out from the con for being too drunk (Bernkastel drinks wine and gets drunk so I had to play the role you know even in my dreams), not wearing my badge, and telling con staff that I don’t give a fuck about having a badge.

The second one was of me at Anime Expo. I was wearing a way better version of my Goat Bulter cosplay. As I was walking out and about there was a group of Umineko cosplayers. A Bernkastel cosplayer spotted me and asked if I wanted to join them for a few photos, which I agreed to.

And then I woked up.

The Hanyuu cosplayer.

Back to reality. I marched back to my hotel. I started listening to an interview with Tim Grover (author of Relentless, the trainer of Basketball icons such as Kobe Byrant, Dwayne Wade, and Micheal Jordan). I was trying to think of a plan as I prep for my Monika cosplay. I was overanalyzing and overthinking. I remember in the first chapter of Relentless Grover stated the best don’t think,

They act. On instinct. And let their instincts do the work.

From that thought, I turned off the interview and started to listen to Saiyan Pride from Dragon Ball Super on repeat. The echoing piano notes. The percussion building up to the arrival the horns, strings, and bells. I was entering my Zone. I was inviting my Dark Side to do the work. Tunnel vision and laser focus.

I wasn’t going to allow myself to fuck up further.

I’m going to win. I said to myself.

(Continued in Chapter 2)

WHERE I COPPED THE “No Coonin’!” SHIRT: https://shop.spreadshirt.com/theunapologeticblackman/

I’m Starving (Or How Anime Weekend Atlanta Left Me Wanting More) Chapter 1 Visual Novels (Part 1) Anime Weekend Atlanta (AWA) left me starving. Starving for more. More networking opportunity.

#anime cons #Anime convention #Anime weekend Atlanta #Anime Weekend Atlanta 2018 #Awa #AWA 2018 #Cosplay #cosplayers #Original writings #Otaku #Otaku Culture #weeaboo #weeaboo culture

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