#like i cannot explain it well because it covers SO much but she has both a hilarious self-insert meta webcomic

[stromblessed]

Mizu's spectacles, and the levels of her disguise

In drafting some more Blue Eye Samurai meta posts, I find myself writing out the comparisons between what Mizu can and cannot hide about herself, and how that affects how she moves through the world.

Like, I get the jokes about Mizu's glasses, if only color contacts had existed back then, etc. etc., and I think (hope) that most viewers don't take the glasses jokes seriously, as in "I don't care about the suspension of disbelief because BES is a cartoon." But I wanted to write these thoughts out anyway without burying them in a text post about something else.

I think the points I'm going to lay out here are viewed very differently by different people, so please feel free to add to this post, reply, or put your thoughts in the tags!

Not only do Mizu's glasses not actually help her that much, there's surely more to Mizu's mixed race appearance than just the color of her eyes.

In my view, this was pointed out in episode 1:

I'm willing to bet most of us were expecting young Taigen to say "blue eyes," not "ROUND eyes."

Obviously this is still about Mizu's eyes, but not even spectacles can hide their shape.

I don't think the show is obligated to point out everything about Mizu's face that isn't quite as Japanese as the people around her expect. Though the creators have said that they specifically designed Mizu - and her clothes - to read both as "white" and as "Japanese," as well as both male and female. I think there's more about Mizu's features that read as "white" than just her eyes.

This is where my own headcanons start entering the picture, but it's my impression that people can just tell that Mizu looks different, whether or not they can put a finger on exactly how.

There's the little girl who looks at Mizu and then hides on the way into Kyoto:

When there's more to your face you'd like to cover up than just your eyes, big hats are a big help!

By the way, most of these examples have to come from the first half of the season, since by the second half, either Mizu is too preoccupied with fighting henchmen, or everyone Mizu is facing knows who she is already, and she therefore has no reason to hide her mixed race identity.

It's worth mentioning that the mere fact that Mizu has to hide multiple aspects of her identity - her mixed race and her sex - results in her having to choose clothes that really, really cover her up, which doesn't win her any favors either:

(Zatoichi reference, anyone?)

If it were as easy as, for example, tying her glasses to her head and wa-lah, nobody would ever know she was half-white - then (1) Mizu would've just done that long ago, and (2) Mizu wouldn't be so on guard and on tenterhooks 100% of the time the way she's depicted in the show, even when her glasses are on.

Her spectacles sure don't help her in the brothel, which is full of observant women who are trying to seduce her, meaning they get good long looks at her:

Mizu never takes her glasses off, but they still send a woman to her who has light eyes, thinking that must be what will interest a blue-eyed man:

No wonder Mizu gets mad after this, lol

So Mizu never takes her spectacles off in the brothel, it's dimly lit inside, and the women can still tell that she has blue eyes. I'm getting the sense that Mizu putting on her spectacles isn't a guarantee that people suddenly can't tell that she looks different.

And yet no one spots that she's female.

Mizu can hide her breasts, can wear her hair in the right style, can hide what's between her legs, can walk and talk and behave like a man - and she's been doing it for almost her entire life, to the point that not only is she very good at it, but the threat of being found out as female is deadly, but isn't presented in the show as omnipresent.

Let me explain.

She threatens Ringo for nearly saying the word "girl" out loud, because while she's constantly ostracized for being mixed race, being a woman traveling without a chaperone, carrying a sword, and disguised as a man will get her killed or flogged or arrested or some combination of these things.

But in addition, it's been drilled into her since she was a child that if she is discovered as female, the combination of her being mixed race and female will identify her as someone extremely specific, someone known to some bad people, and she will be killed:

I think of it as Mizu thinking to herself, "Being found out as mixed race means I'm treated badly. Being found out as mixed race and a woman means I'm dead."

Mizu's hair is cut as a child. But she isn't made to wear a big hat, or cover her eyes somehow, or anything like that. Because hiding her sex is a more successful endeavor than hiding her race.

Ringo finds out she's female by accident, but once Mizu accepts the fact that he won't rat her out, she relaxes pretty early on in the season. Because the threat of being found out as female is mitigated pretty much 99.9%, since Mizu has gotten so good at being a man. And also, because most of the time, people see what they want to see. Even if Mizu's face makes her stand out as "not 100% Japanese," no one in the world of BES looks at Mizu's clothes, her bearing, her sword, hears her voice, and will ever in a million years conclude that she is a woman, because expectations around gender roles in the Edo period were so rigid and so widely enforced.

One detail that proved this to me is after the Four Fangs fight:

Ringo takes off Mizu's clothes so he can stitch her up, then leaves her clothes off even after he's done. He doesn't even throw her cloak over her as a blanket or anything. There's a little a straw (pallet?) as a divider there on the left, but anyone could just peek around it and see Mizu and her chest bindings. (I think it's mostly there as a windbreaker.)

And Taigen is right there, but he doesn't give a shit:

Opinions probably vary hugely on this, but my impression is that because the show doesn't make any kind of deal about Taigen being in the room with Mizu here, my guess is that Mizu isn't in any danger of Taigen thinking she's female. Even when I watched the show for the first time, I assumed that Taigen had seen Mizu out of her clothes here, and that he thought nothing of it.

Eat your heart out, Li Shang (Mulan 1998). I actually do think that this scene is a direct and purposeful side-eye to that movie, lol

There's obviously some nuance to how "severe" being mixed race is compared to how "severe" being a woman is for Mizu:

After all, Swordfather can't bear to listen to Mizu confess to being a woman.

So a Japanese man can go wherever he wants, whenever he wants in BES. A Japanese woman has limited options: marriage, religion, or a brothel. A mixed-race man is an eyesore in this story. A mixed-race woman is a death sentence.

May as well eliminate the female aspect, and do what you can about the mixed-race aspect. Because that's just realistic.

Meaning Mizu can avoid the strictures Edo society places on women. But she can't avoid the repercussions that come with being mixed race. And I truly don't think that it's just because "there's no brown contacts yet."

#blue eye samurai #mizu #racism #bes #I am truly disappointed that we didnt get absolute confirmation that Taigen saw Mizus bound chest and just didnt think it was a big deal #but I still think that scene is making a point #again I dont think most people take the glasses jokes seriously #but its been bothering me ever since I first saw them #I really dont think Mizu just looks like a 100 percent Japanese person...... with blue eyes #and I bet that will be made even more obvious when she goes to London where Im sure she will meet plenty of people #who are more than happy to point out their observations to her #also I ran out of room in this post to go into it but this is also what made Mizus marriage an absolutely doomed prospect #Mikio talks about wanting to find the right creature for his lord and well... a mixed race woman is the right creature huh #he just needed a little push imo #getting kind of sad at the thought that Ringo is the only person in Mizus life who knows her whole identity AND accepts it wholly

[ivnxrori]

When Sun and Moon meet - S1

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to Lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

Warnings: fight scenes, reader passes out

Masterlist

҉ * ‧͙ ⋆ ⁺ ༓ ☾ Chapter 2 - Encountering the Sun

Due to the aftermath of Katara allowing females to waterbend, I decided to participate with Katara and her avatar friend. Which is unsurprising for my father and Master Pakku. It felt awkward finally doing waterbend without having to feel the anxiety of getting caught, weirder doing it in front of the people who I have been hiding most. “Well done, Y/N. Feels like you never even stopped waterbending in the first place.” Master Pakku compliments. I felt a shiver up my spine. “Yeah…” I responded with a tinge of guilt. It's because I never even stopped waterbending, I'm more surprised that no one has caught on. But even if they do, they cannot do anything. I close my eyes and sigh breathily. Slowly inhaling but instantly coughed from the smell of…burning…wait. I immediately open my eyes to see the black snow coming from the sky, but that is no snow…it's soot. “The fire nation” I whispered coldy.

Not too long I hear the warning drums against my ears, spreading news to the whole northern water nation. I sat next to Yue in our hideout with all of our people, slightly shivering even though I'm perfectly fine with the cold. I held Sivoy in my arms, silently praying to the spirits over the speech my father was giving. He was most likely saying the same thing as I. I just need my family to be happy and safe, especially Sivoy. I hugged Sivoy even tighter than I already was while he was babbling nonsense, playing with my hair. I wish there was a way to tell Sivoy of how much danger we are in but…there is nothing we can do but fight.

I heard the explosions ringing in my ears. This is real…this is all real. Oh how much I wish my mother was still here, she was taken too soon by the fire nation. I just hope my father, my sister and my brother will live. Another explosion hit, I cover my ears to prevent further ringing and wince. Yue held my shoulders and rubbed them to comfort me, I shouldn't be comforted at this moment, it should have been Yue who needed comfort. Yue was busying herself by telling factual information to Katara and the Avatar about  water bending while I leaned against the ledge to peace my own mind. My ears perked up from the word ‘Spirits’. “Spirits?” I sat up catching the three off guard. “You can talk to the spirits?” I leaned closer to the avatar. “Yeah, Aang can talk to spirits. The Avatar is connected to the spirit world and the real world.” Katara explained. “If that's the case…then follow me” I immediately speed walk towards the needed destination.

  ҉   ☾

“This is the most spiritual place in the North pole, unfortunately you have to go there yourself, but this area should be able to assist you...like it did to Yue and I.” Aang nodded as all four of us walked to the Spirit Oasis. “It's so warm here” Katara examined the area. “It's pretty comforting here” I smiled at the reactions of Aang and Katara, feeling mesmerized by the area. This area was very gorgeous indeed. Aang was able to sit down in front of the pond with the fish circling one another, resembling the yin yang. “Why is he sitting like that?” Yue questioned Katara as we both looked at him strangely. “He’s meditating” Katara answered “He’s trying to cross over to the spirit world, it takes all his concentration.” 

“Is there any way we can help?” “How about some quiet?” Aang retorted snappily. “Come on guys! I can hear every word you guys are saying!”. I held back a laugh as I continued to watch what Aang was doing. Both Yue and I were very intrigued. With a flash, both his arrow and his eyes were glowing. Yue and I flinched from the scene. “Is he okay?!” Yue panicked as I furrowed my brows. “He’s crossing into the spirit world, he’ll be fine as long as we dont move his body. That's his way back to the physical world.” Katara explained, pointing at Aang. I felt shivers up my spine, someone here… I glared at my surroundings while Katara and Yue were talking, trying to see who was approaching us. “Shh someones coming-” “Aw, aren't you a big girl now”. Us three turned around to see a boy. “No…” Katara shakily said “Yes…now hand him over and I won't have to hurt you” He threatened. The boy has a ponytail and a very visible red burn scar on his face. “Who is he?!” I freaked out while holding my stance to attack. “He is part of the fire nation-” Katara couldn't finish her sentence when flames were there the next second. Immediately coming to Katara’s defense as I attempt to push him away with the water given from the Oasis. “I see you made another waterbending friend, however I didn't come this way to lose to you” He got back up again attempting to continue fighting. “Katara froze him, it can keep him restrained” I yell, gathering up as much water as I possibly could. She nodded as we both pushed him against the wall, caging him. “Is it her? Is she your master who has been teaching you these moves?” The boy said spitefully and immediately burst through the ice. “No?” I retorted back, looking at him confused but the confuzzled face didn't stay long until he blasted another flame from the palm of his hands. I move back trying to shield Aang as Katara pushes him against the rock, knocking him out in an ice mountain. I exhale a breath of relief. “Thanks Katara” “I should be thanking you”

However the relief was short lived as we felt the sun rising up and the scar boy, once again getting through the ice. Catching Katara off guard she hit the wooden pole causing her to pass out. “Katara!” I yelled and attempted to push him away from Aang. “Shoot!” I grumbled, feeling my bending growing weaker. I looked at the sky trying to look for the moon, however there was no moon. The shine of the sun reflected off of me while I tried to hold eye contact against the enemy under the bright light. Couldn't the sun come out later? His finishing blow of flames causes me to move back, coughing through the dust swaying it through my vision. “You must have known, You rise with the moon, I rise with the Sun”. I glared at him trying to get back at him, already forming my water but unfortunately I lost all feelings of my legs, colliding with the grassy land, my eyes went from blurry to nothing…

<- Back - Next ->

a/n: Im editing this while watching s3 avatar, I was worried that s3 might clash with my fic but I managed to make do. Im submitting the chapters because this is before Y/N starts her journey, so her real powers will happen in s2 (I THINK). ALSO Zuko is in this chapter wooo!! Sad there is no romance yet and this is a slow burn. I might edit the previous chapters to write slow burn. I really want Zuko and Reader to be enemies and reader to really hate Zuko. Im trying to release a chapter once everyday but one spring break is up im not sure if I would be able to continue, however ill try my best! -- Taglist: @luvkvni @katovano @karmaswitch @someonesmember @velvet-spider @sh3sa1dwhat @nerdisthenewcool @meiraloves2dmen @fqnfics101 @iluvme547

#zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko #zuko atla #zuko avatar the last airbender #zuko avatar #atla #fire lord #fire lord zuko #the gaang #gaang #zuko fanfic #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #alta zuko x reader #reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #x female reader #zuko imagine #alta x reader #avatar last airbender #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #waterbending #waterbender reader #waterbender #avatar the last airbender

[yannaryartside]

In defense of the "I am sorry" sign

images by @drrav3nb

Been thinking about how I think their relationship got closed not despite the sign but because of it.

The "I'm sorry sign" is introduced by Carmy as a method of de-escalation of conflict in the middle of service, something that will allow the people involved to talk about the issues later. The issues are hurt feelings, unclear expectations, miscommunications, and other stuff that can happen when everybody is anxious and trying to go through service by the skin of their teeth. In the season finale, we actually see them use it in this context, but most of the season we feel they used it for things that they actually should be talking about, not just leaving for later.

The "later" part never comes. Across season 2, they used the sign to avoid discussing things they felt scared/guilty about. But, being fair, neither Carmy nor Sydney were ready to discuss what was coming between them. Carmy has depression, anxiety, and abandonment issues that he cannot even process, on top of a relationship that doesn't make him feel completely good, even if he doesn't know why because everything is so great. Sydney is jealous; we don't know if she has processed her feelings for Carmy yet. But she also was counting on him to guide her through this process, and she feels that if she fails, it will be on her, not his lack of leadership, or, yk, that she has never done anything remotely as difficult before. She is drowning in fear, and she wants some sort of support.

STOP Syd and Carmy were explosive/confrontative in expressing their frustration; Sydney is mostly implosive; she deals with her frustration in private, and it takes a lot to make her explode as the others do. She primarily deals with Carmy with bitter questions and sarcastic treatment (she is better than me), and Carmy responds with exasperated attempts to explain himself; he gets defensive the way we know he is used to defending herself in his family (fishes).

But the 'sorry sign' is actually something that they use to stop the escalation of their (personal) conflict. I think the moment they use it in "Bolognese" is a perfect example. They both use the "I am tired" explanation, which is kinda true, but they are not going to the "core" of the issue. But, if anything, they knew they were hurting each other by raising their voices and assigning blame, and they decided they didn't want to hurt each other in any way.

They applied the sorry sign to move to harmony, even with shaky bases. Is a noble intent. It is kind of amazing that by the end of this conversation the conflict is kind of left behind, and they can laught at stupid jokes again. They can be each other again, they can be what they are with each other, even if the pain/hurt is somewhat still there. After all, they are bussines partners only.

What I want to say, is that they could have easily antagonized each other this season and decided not too. I know it doesn't seem as much, but many couples struggle with this; they can take a "are you vs. me" attitude. Carmy and Sydney pause and decide to recognize the other's point of view and needs, and they set up expectations for the future. Mainly, Sydney is clear about the behaviors she will not tolerate, and Carmy expresses his intentions of not disappointing her and how important she and their relationship is to him. Idk if I am explaining it well; I like the fact that they prioritize their partnership, even if they don't know the true nature of it yet. Carmy has a lot of fault on this because, again, it feels like she is covering for him in many ways, but still, the intent is noble; there is love behind it.

#I just think that in this part of their relasionship #they were kind mature and healthy #at least they were not intentionally hurting each other #sydney adamu #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #sydney x carmy #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy

[duxbelisarius]

The Dance of the Dragons: A Military Analysis (Pt. 1)

I’ve been meaning to do this since I watched House of the Dragon and read Fire & Blood; after reading and re-reading F&B, I’ve concluded that the way that the Dance of the Dragons was fought by both factions is plain nonsensical. I will demonstrate this by analyzing the military as well as political aspects of George’s narrative, referring to F&B and other works in George’s ASOIAF legendarium and analysis I’ve seen from reddit and Tumblr. Part 1 covers Chapters 1 and 2 of The Dying of the Dragons, being The Blacks and the Greens and A Son for A Son, as well as The Red Dragon and the Gold where it concerns the alignment of the houses. 

Starting with Gyldan’s claim that the realm was ‘divided in two’ by the Dance, this is provably false even if one takes it as just a shorthand phrase and not a serious attempt at summarizing the Dance for his audience. Rhaenyra received the nigh uncontested support of four of the Seven Kingdoms during the war, the North, the Riverlands, the Iron Islands and the Vale, whereas Aegon II’s claim went uncontested only in the Westerlands and Stormlands. The Crownlands and Reach were divided from the outset, with the Tyrells remaining neutral until the end (arguably, but we’ll save that for later). Taking into account the Royal Fleet and Rhaenyra’s numerical advantage in Dragons, even though Rhaenyra’s allies were not all able to provide immediate support, the sheer number of her supporters presents a problem with George’s set-up.

What is that problem? By George’s premises that he established in his work, Rhaenyra’s support should not exist or at least not without the lack of qualification he provides. The chapter Heirs of the Dragon - A Question of Succession states that the Council of 101 AC chose Viserys over Rhaenys’ son Laenor by a wide margin, possibly as much as 20-to-1. Though she was passed over as Jaehaerys’ heir in 92 AC for her uncle Baelon, Rhaenys’ claim for her son was superior to that of Viserys, as she was the eldest child of the first son of the King while Viserys was the second son’s eldest. Yet George would have us believe that after passing over Rhaenys’ superior claim under Andal Law, the lords of the realm would support Rhaenyra in droves despite her objectively inferior claim? The oaths sworn to Rhaenyra as Viserys’ heir were made when Daemon was removed from the line of succession, and because Viserys had no children save for Rhaenyra. By Viserys’ death he has three sons and his eldest, Aegon, was in a similar situation to Rhaenys and Laenor. Under Andal Law, a sister cannot inherit before a brother; but just like in 101 AC, the wishes of the King that the legal heir not inherit were given preference over the law. There should be plenty of lords and ladies from either side of the 101 AC debates that would support Aegon on the basis of his sex or his legal status, but save for House Baratheon it seems that none of the houses that supported Rhaenys received offers of alliance from Otto and the Green Council until after Blood and Cheese, if at all.

George does not help his case by giving us so few good reasons as to why certain houses supported Rhaenyra or Aegon; @lemonhemlock has an entire tag devoted to this issue, and I recommend starting with this thread. Despite Aegon II’s ties to the Reach via the Hightowers and the potential for this to increase the Reach’s influence over the realm, the number of houses listed as joining the Blacks far outnumbers the Greens. House Beesbury, Merryweather and Caswell may be explained by Aegon executing members of those families for supporting Rhaenyra, but we get no reasoning for the Tarlys, Mullendores, Grimms, Rowans, Oakhearts, Footlys or Costaynes. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the Westerlands and Stormlands, which supported Aegon II without any mention of internal opposition by Gyldan. This is especially bizarre for the Stormlands given that Otto Hightower expected House Tarth to support Rhaenyra, while Lady Fell and Lord Buckler were among those executed by Aegon II early in the war. This trend of inexplicable unanimity continues with the Riverlands, whose lords are called a ‘notoriously quarrelsome lot’ but support Rhaenyra completely with the exception of the Brackens and the Vances of Atranta. The only real basis for this support that we get from the narrative rests upon the oaths made to Rhaenyra in 106 AC and a single visit she made to Riverrun in 112 AC, decades before the war began.

The unanimity of Northern support for Rhaenyra is even more questionable based on information which George provides within Fire & Blood and elsewhere. Despite Rickon Stark’s death in 121 AC, his son Cregan Stark only became Lord of Winterfell in 126 AC after imprisoning his uncle Bennard Stark and his sons for being slow to relinquish their authority as regents. Despite the approach of winter and the conflict with his uncle, we hear nothing of any misgivings or opposition to Cregan’s pact with Jacaerys. The pact itself is remarkably generous to Rhaenyra, guaranteeing the North’s support in exchange for the marriage of Cregan’s son to a future daughter of the still unwed Jacaerys Velaryon (contrast this with Hoster Tully’s demanding that Ned Stark wed & bed Catelyn during Robert’s Rebellion). In the case of Jeyne Arryn’s support for Rhaenyra, her supporters in House Royce have every reason to oppose this given that Rhaenyra’s consort is Daemon Targaryen, the man who allegedly had Rhea Royce murdered and tried to claim Runestone. Yet they seem not to oppose Lady Arryn’s decision, and Ser Willam Royce is among Rhaenyra’s supporters during the King’s Landing riots. When the war is over and Jeyne Arryn dies, House Royce promptly makes an about-face to support Arnold Arryn over Jeyne’s named heir Joffrey. Finally there’s the “Silent Five,” Corlys Velaryon’s nephews who lost their tongues for accusing Lucerys and his brothers of being bastards. We are told in Under the Regents - The Hooded Hand that the Five supported Aegon and that three died during the war, yet we do not hear of Velaryon forces of any kind supporting the Greens in the Dance’s narrative until after Rhaenyra imprisons Corlys. 

The Dance’s narrative makes even less sense when it comes to the Tyrells and Tullys, both of whom are neutral for most of the conflict. The Tyrells initially declare for Aegon but opt for neutrality when confronted with the large number of Black supporters in the Reach. The Tyrells remain neutral even after these Black houses are brought to heel by Ormund Hightower and Daeron Targaryen, but according to Maester Munkun they prevented the Hightowers from aiding Aegon II at the end by threatening the life of Garmund Hightower (fostering at Highgarden as a ward). The Tyrells were apparently unmoved by Aegon II’s rising fortunes, but were prepared to violate guest right and murder a child for the prospect of Aegon III becoming king. 

Meanwhile Elmo Tully keeps his house out of the war despite the protestations of his grandfather Grover, who is bed-ridden but wishes to support Aegon II. Elmo wished to avoid his house being assailed by either faction’s dragons, but he breaks neutrality and declares for Rhaenyra after being visited by Addam Velaryon with Seasmoke. While Elmo is claimed to have said “a dragon in one’s courtyard does wonders to resolve one’s doubts,” this quote makes House Tully’s prior neutrality even more mystifying. Daemon and Aemond were both present in the Riverlands and rode dragons far fiercer than Seasmoke, but we’re to believe that neither of them considered a show of force as a means of winning over House Tully? Elmo’s decision also makes little sense in light of the fact that Rhaenyra’s cause is in shambles at this point in the Dance, with Borros Baratheon and Ormund Hightower closing in from the south, the people of King’s Landing rioting against her, her Velaryon supporters abandoning her en masse due to the imprisonment of Lord Corlys, and rumors circulating that she had Queen Helaena and Dowager Queen Alicent gang-raped in a Flea Bottom whore-house. That George chose this moment for the Tullys to intervene on Rhaenyra’s behalf is bizarre, especially given the devastation wrought upon the Riverlands by the Dance.

I’ve doubtless left out other examples of inconsistencies and contradictions within the political alliances of George’s narrative, but in the interest of keeping things brief I’ve focused on what I found were the most obvious. If you’ve made it this far without drowning in walls of text, I commend you and thank you for your time (I definitely intend to add more images to spice things up). 

If you’ve got feedback for me, the replies and my inbox are open!

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #team black #grrm critical #fire and blood critical #asoiaf critical #asoiaf

[doll-elvis]

** warning drama ahead **

Regarding plagiarism and @lettersfromvenus:

I definitely did not envision this to be my first post back from the break that I’ve been on from posting but after my lengthy exchange with her last night I’d just like to clear the air and explain the situation from a different point of view as I believe lettersfromvenus has been dishonest to her audience

** but before I even get into all of that I would like to sincerely apologize if you have messaged me, replied to one of my posts or sent in an ask, I am going to start working on getting back to everyone as soon as possible- I cannot even explain how much I have missed being active on here and I’d like to give a huge thank you to all the elvis fans and blogs out there because y’all have been keeping my moral high 🫡

my immune system decided to quit a little over a week ago and what I thought was a normal cold/flu turned out to be pneumonia of all things. even though I lowkey almost died from it when I first got it as a kid, I don’t remember it being this exhausting?? I’ve been bedridden like a victorian child and have been reminiscing on all the times that I had an appetite and could stand up without losing my breath

literally me since last thursday

** as for the situation regarding lettersfromvenus **

a few days ago it was brought to my attention that some accusations were being made against her after I saw an ask that was sent to another Elvis blog on here. She was being accused, by the original author, of copying a fic (word for word) from wattpad (including the title and cover-art) and posting it on here as though it was her own work

here is that post from the og author ⬇️

I always try to be as neutral as possible but after reading posts from both @ladiilokii and lettersfromvenus, I ultimately decided that the latter was clearly in the wrong and that her explanations made no sense and did nothing but pivot the blame

and so I left this exact comment on ladiilokii’s post to show support ⬇️

** “at first I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt but her responses to your messages are just insane, I’m so sorry this happened!! I’ve unfollowed her and reported her post, I can’t believe she is refusing to take it down after being caught red-handed 🤧” **

“insane” was a harsh word to use but that is the only word that came to mind after reading lettersfromvenus’ responses to being called out

she claimed that she was sent prompts/scenarios by an anonymous person and that she then wrote the fic based on those prompts, which just magically happened to be the exact same, word for word, as ladiilokii’s og fic. not only is that impossible, but it also doesn’t account for the stolen cover-art as an anonymous person cannot send a photo through the inbox, their username would have to be public

letterfromvenus then admitted to the og auther (pictured below) that she got the cover-art directly from the original fic on wattpad

** “all I did was steal the title and the picture because it had fit so well with what I thought my fic”-lettersfromvenus ** im sorry but how do you “think”something is your fic? you either wrote it or you didn’t…

lettersfromvenus’ full direct message to ladiilokii ⬇️

these explanations made zero sense to me and the lack of accountability on her part is astounding- she basically said “your work was amazing, they meant for it to be copied” ?!?

Much like the og author, I don’t believe that lettersfromvenus was sent any prompts by an anonymous person. I think she found the original fic and posted it as her own work thinking nobody would know where she got it from as it was originally posted in a vast collection of one-shots

I can’t speak to experience of being a writer but I could imagine it would be incredibly disheartening to have someone else take the credit and reap the rewards of all the hard work, effort, and time that goes into writing a fic

and so that was my involvement in the situation. like I mentioned I did decide to unfollow her because I thought it was unfair/dishonest how lettersfromvenus was making ladiilokii out to be the aggressor even though she had every right to call out the person who was stealing her fic

but nonetheless I didn’t say anything to lettersfromvenus and I just hoped that she would learn from her mistakes and offer a more sincere apology and explanation in the future

flashforward some days later to yesterday, when around 5:40pm, I got sent an anonymous ask which had a link to a new post from lettersfromvenus. obviously there is no way to prove who sent in the ask but I had my suspicions that it was her as she directly addressed the og comment that I made on ladiilokii’s post, in her new post⬇️

(https://www.tumblr.com/lettersfromvenus/730026135806722048/okay-so-i-swore-right-down-to-not-waste-my-time-on?source=share)

in retrospect I shouldn’t have engaged but I just couldn’t believe that she was trying to twist the situation and make it seem like she was getting all this unwarranted hate when in reality this was started by her when she consciously decided to steal another person’s work, and then refused to accept any blame. I still stand by my reasonings to unfollow and report her for the stolen fic

and so I commented on lettersfromvenus’ new post (linked above) to clarify again why I decided to unfollow her, as she questioned why I did. I wanted to be as frank as possible and so I wished her the best, but I maintained that I wouldn’t support her work in the future and that I thought the og author deserved a better/more truthful explanation

unfortunately I was blocked by her after our back and forth so I can’t see all of my og comments but here are some of hers and mine that I was able to sc beforehand⬇️

may or may not have had a friend send me more sc of the convo after I was blocked ⬇️

“I did not plagiarize the fic” are you sure about that?

courtesy of @ladiilokii ⬇️ (lettersfromvenus is left, og author is right)

some other screenshots⬇️

“you’re literally blaming me for shit out of my control”- it wasn’t out of your control, you purposefully did what you did and instead of openly admitting to it, you’re pivoting the blame onto an “anonymous” sender (which she has still shown no proof of)

and even if someone did send you a complete fic in your inbox, you are still obligated to say that it is not your own original work if you post it, it is still plagiarizing even if the author is anonymous

** btw this was the caption of the fic she posted that she stole from ladiilokii- “Writing takes a lot of time, so please make sure to support us writers” writing does indeed take time… copying and pasting does not **

and please the irony of saying this fandom is toxic for calling you out for stealing another fan’s work- like ma’am take a look in the mirror before calling other people toxic 🤧

my patience is now non-existent regarding this person so I’m sorry if I’m crass but if her idea of “hard work” is copying and pasting a fic and stealing the title/cover-art, then yeah that deserves to be discredited, like what do you expect??

since I was blocked I can’t see my comment anymore but I mentioned how she admitted to stealing the cover-art and that she should have given credit for that, and she then replied that her stealing was essentially justified because the author who made the cover-art didn’t credit the photographer that took the photos of Elvis ⬇️

she also went on to say that everyone who writes the word “Elvis” is plagiarizing Gladys because she created Elvis- I hope she stretched before she made that reach

we only went back and forth for like 15 minutes but my head still hurts from it. she was just impossible to reason with, she had zero accountability, and at times I felt like I was speaking to an actual toddler… she even told me to go back to elementary school to get common sense 💀

me engaging with her on that post proved to be futile, but I can’t say that I fully regret it because this clearly shows her lack of a moral code as a writer (thou shall not plagiarize)

I hate for this to be my first post back and I do know that I am contributing to the drama (for better or for worse) by making this lengthy ass post but that whole exchange with her truly shocked me and I just couldn’t keep quiet about it, especially when she has gone to her followers and made herself out to be the victim, and made others out to be the aggressors… my brain cannot compute the fact that she is trying to garner sympathy from this

** however, I by no means, wish for any hate sent to her about this. some of my comments and rebuttals have been snippy & I definitely lost patience in all of this but I don’t know how old this person is, she could be 12 for all I know, and I think we have probably all been guilty of doing dumb things on the internet. From my understanding she did end up deleting the fic at the og authors request **

I made this post in hopes that it provides some clarity to the situation and in hopes that I could show the conversation with as much transparency as possible as since I’m blocked I’m slightly worried that she is making me out to seem like I instigated this when I only directly spoke to her once I saw that her post mentioned my comment

to me this situation wasn’t even really about who was involved, it was about the principle of it because no matter who the person is, plagiarism is wrong on all of counts. if someone plagiarized lettersfromvenus’ original work in the future, I would still speak to her defense because no one deserves to have that happen to them

if there is anything you would like to do, please show some love and support to @ladiilokii , the original author of “Welcome to Detroit, Baby” <3

anyways- I cannot wait to get back to my original schedule of posting, I’ve been on a break for only 11 days but my god it has felt like an eternity 😭

#idk why this whole situation struck a nerve with me #but it got me heated on a Sunday night #I just don’t understand how someone could steal another persons work and not feel any guilt #again the lack of accountability is astounding #elvis presley #elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis x reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis imagines

[nerdieforpedro]

Sard’ika Sessions

Session Five

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

Fanfiction 18+

Sard’ika Masterlist / Main Masterlist /Din Djarin/The Mandalorian Masterlist

Word Count: approx 3K

Summary: The second day of your time together with Din is here. He has more for you to do like always but this time, he's going to be a bit vulnerable with you. Din even shares a couple things you didn't know about him, that few people do. Both of you are falling deeper into this pit. But what is it exactly?

Warnings: domestic fluff, teasing, angst, beskar kink (it just is), body worship, new product alert, various toy use, sub Din, praise kink, anal sex, creampie, cum kink, FEELINGS, aftercare

Notes: We're nearly at the end Sapce Buddies, don't worry. There will be an adequate fluff to smut ratio. Maybe even an epilogue or two. I needed a little extra time with this one because of the dialogue. I wanted the reader and Din to sound like themselves. I realized when I giggled too much, I didn't have the right tone.

Special thanks to @morallyinept for letting me include a product name she came up with. It is an odd detail but it will pop up again elsewhere. I promise.

Awakening in your bed, you look up to see Din sitting across from you in your chair reading one of your books. He notes that you’re awake and closes the book, standing and makes his way over to you. His gloved hand cradles your face,

“Awake now Sard’ika? Good. How do you feel? Are you sore anywhere?” You shake your head, but don’t speak, your throat is dry and you cough. “I made some soup with what you had in the house. I wasn’t sure what not to use. I left you some on the stove. You’ll need to re-heat it.” He explains and steps back, allowing you room to sit up. Din then hands you a simple cotton robe to cover yourself so you don’t chill too badly. Clearing your throat upon standing, you’re finally able to speak once you tie the robe around your waist. 

“I’m fine. I’m only slightly sore, but it’s not bad at all. Just a new feeling Din. Thank you. Did you eat enough?” He nods and you make your way to your kitchen, getting some water to quell your thirst and then heat up the soup. Briefly chatting about how good his soup tastes, you feel from his voice that he’s bashful in the compliment. It’s not a tone you expected from him and you want to hear more, know more about him. You make yourself some tea and offer to make him some before using the refresher to clean some of the sweat off yourself. You’d like to make yourself clean for him again. Din states that he’d never find you dirty and that he’ll drink his tea while you’re washing yourself.

“Din, you didn’t climax before I fell asleep, have you since I’ve been resting?”

Your question makes him adjust himself as you sip on your tea, confirming your suspicions. “I want to be the one who makes you come Din, not your own hand.”

Din’s hand finds your hip as you sip the last of your tea and set the mug down on the counter, “Do not concern yourself with that Mesh’la. The sight of you in your heights of pleasure was more than enough to have me satisfied. With and without my hand.” His fingers press into your flesh, “Never doubt that you are more than enough for me Cyar’ika.” A light purr left your throat as you leaned into him, pressing against his breastplate, but you parted from him, going to wash your body. A small part of you hoped he’d come in with you, but you’re aware he cannot.

The Mandalorian in the meantime, prepared the bedroom, setting out the toys he planned to use as well as something he wanted to try with you. He’d been nervous and had been wondering when to bring it up that enjoys such an act, but at this point, he felt he could trust you. Din was removing more armor than he had both in previous sessions and even when he went to the pleasure houses. He took a deep breath and exhaled several times, attempting to calm himself. Just the thought of attempting it with you, for this, he would bring out his personal collection of water based lube sourced from the waters of Mandalore. Din felt his blood rushing to his cock as he removed his boots, thigh & shin guards, bottom half of his flight suit, knee pads, cod piece, gloves and vambraces. He stood in the middle of your bedroom waiting for you to emerge from the refresher.

When you came out of the refresher, you were greeted with the glorious sight of Din: his helmet, breastplate and pauldrons glowed in the soft light of the room as did the rest of him. His skin was a warm olive tone, marred with deep sepia scars across his soft belly and strong thighs. There were a few red marks here and there, but the shades of brown made you smile. Din had opened himself to you more, this was proof despite him not saying the words. He was a man of action after all.  His cock you were familiar with, its slick, throbbing appearance with a reddened tip let you know that he was ready for more.

“You’re gorgeous Din, thank you for showing me.” You sang strolling your way over to him, pressing your soft body against his and letting his pulsing member fall between your bellies. Your hands roamed his lower torso and stomach, hoping to touch all that you could before the two of you began. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to touch him again depending on what happened during the rest of this session. His own calloused hands ran along your back, “It’s almost as if your body is humming Din, is that why you hum when you’re pleased?”

The warrior’s helmet cocked to the side, he wasn’t aware that he did. “I do? Is that so, I never knew, but my body reacts to you like this now Cyar’ika.” With his hands still on your back, he walked the two of you over to the bed and showed you the spread. “We’ll use these and after this session, you should be ready for me and I for you.” You wondered what he meant until you spied the other side of the bed. There was the largest size of anal plug, a spongy dildo with a large base, glass anal beads and three bottles of ‘This is the Lay - Mando’s Water Safe Lube Selection.’ One was unscented, one was strawberries and the last flavor was dark chocolate. 

“You have your own brand of lube? That’s quite unexpected.” You exclaim and pick the dark chocolate up. “This one makes me think of you Din. I’m looking forward to this. I have an idea of where we’re going with this.” Din swallowed hard, you heard it though it was modulated. He sat on the bed and moved a few of the toys to the side. “Lay back, I’m going to have you this time, gorgeous man.” He did as he was told and laid back on the bed, his helmet peering up at you, you leaned over his cock and stroked it up and down with your hand. Your other hand grabbed his hip and tapped it, signaling for him to slide down the bed a little so his ass was hanging off slightly. You take the dildo and place it on the floor, poking it with your foot to make sure it’s not going to move,

“I-I make some money from it, but it’s mainly Mandalorians who use it so it’s only sold but so many places. Ah…” Din felt the need to explain but he didn’t really, his body tenses when your tongue comes into contact with his cock and he sees you sink down over the side of the bed. Hearing you moan, he knew that you were attempting to get the dildo inside of yourself. You’d squirted the lube onto the dildo and added a bit to yourself in addition to your residual wetness from your own hands in the refresher. It was proving to be a stretch but not as difficult as before, with a small pop, your lips allowed the spongy material past them and you sat with just an inch or two inside of yourself as you adjusted to it. 

“Din, sit up for a moment. Look, watch me.” You asked of him which he quickly sat at attention, his hand on his cock, but you shook your head. “No. Don’t. Just watch. Then I’ll satisfy you. Please…Din.” You dropped your hips and moaned his name louder, allowing more of the dildo inside of yourself, your hands reached and grabbed his thighs, looking up at him, your nails digging into his skin. You were starting to grind on the dildo, heaving your chest forward with your mouth agape continuing to groan with each movement. Din’s hands cupped your face since he couldn’t touch himself. Your eyes closed for a brief moment.

“No mesh’la, keep them open and look at me. Look at what you’re doing to me. You’re doing wonderful, further my Sard’ika.” Din growled and your eyes trailed from his dripping mess of a cock up to his visor, even with his breastplate still on, you could see it rising and heard his staggered modulated breaths. It was then that you had an idea, pushing on his thighs, you stood up and a loud pop came from your core releasing the dildo, you looked hungrily down at your Mandalorian and pushed him back on the bed. He pushed himself up so he was fully on the bed. “Cyar’ika, don’t push yourself, you may not be ready for-” Din was cut off by what you had grabbed after pushing him back, a bottle of lube. It was the unscented one, but it didn’t matter, you just needed it for your ass. You knew well the size of Din’s cock and even with the dildo you wouldn’t be ready, but your ass was. You leaned forward over him and used about half the bottle on your backdoor. A bit much, but you didn’t want to chance it.

“You’ll release inside me Din. I want it.” You started in a commanding tone and rose, hovering over his cock, you reached down and slowly lowered yourself as Din helped aim his tip to the right entrance. He couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to this as well, he hadn’t thought it would be so soon, he held you up underneath your thighs just so the tip teased your ass.

“Wait. I’d like something inserted as well. Please grab the glass beads.” You huff but do what he asks, sliding back and grabbing the lube and beads. Din raises his hips for you as you use two fingers to part his cheeks and use the cool product on the beads on both the beads and his ass, earning a soft moan from him. You sigh happily and begin inserting slowly, watching him tense. 

“Relax Din. I’m right here. Is it too fast? Do you need me to slow down?” He shook his head and called your name softly as you continued at the same pace until you made it to the forth ball. He set his hips down as he raised his hands. You crawled over to him and he chuckled softly, “Feels good I hope? Are you ready for me now?” You didn’t mean to sound impatient, but it came across anyway. Din playfully swatted your hip.

“You’re more than welcome to have my cock now Sard’ika, however you like it.” he tells you and your smile is wide as you straddle him again, back in the same position with you hovering above him and you looking below you at Din. Once in position, you drop down onto his cock about half way and both of you scream in unison “Dank farrik!” He looks worriedly up at you, praying to the Maker for you not to be in pain or hurt. Thankfully you’re not, in fact, you begin raising your hips up and down slowly, adjusting to his thickness, he was filling you deeply. Din twitched his hips, careful not to buck them, he wanted to continue to let you set the pace. Feeling him pulsing inside of you, had your core grasping at nothing, moving faster, your skin began to slap against Din’s as you both cried out. The pressure from the anal beads pressing against his prostate nearly made him come then. 

Your Mandalorian could no longer hold back, his hips guiding upward toward yours. You looked perfect on top of him, using him as you needed. As much as Din enjoyed pulling moans and groans from you, he also relished in seeing you lose yourself in seeking pleasure from him. His large hands ran up your thighs, grasping your hips once more, kneading your flesh as he moved faster under you, his balls tightening, signaling that he was close. Din was watching you carefully, he wasn’t sure if you really wanted him to release inside of you, but you gripped his vambraces and held on tight, continuing to bounce on top of him,

“Inside Din. It’s what I want. Please let me have it.” Your mouth said though your body was starting to weaken, the more he pumped up into you, the deeper it felt he went and the more your cunt cried to you. You considered letting go of his vambraces to touch your clit, but Din moved before you could and circled it with his thumb, making you whine his name. With a few strong pumps, Din emptied inside of you and the gush of heart prompted your own core to dampen his belly. The both of you froze, panting heavily with your respective climaxes. Din however, was able to sit up and pull the sheets toward hip until he grasped the anal plug. As you fell upon him, he laid your head on his shoulder pauldron and reached down as his softening cock slipped out of you, he slid the anal plug in your ring of stretched muscle to keep his spend from leaking out. Your heavy eyes looked up at him, determined not to fall asleep this time and you were curious.

“Din, why would you stop it from coming out?” His fingers danced over your hair and forehead as his other hand ran up your spine.

“The same reason you ask me to paint your stomach. I want to see the results of my work.” His reasoning was as sound as yours had been, but it made you turn your face away from him, he moved his helmet to meet your gaze again. “Can I not do the same mesh’la? Admire and praise you in the same way you do me? By different means?” His fingers were massaging your back and you sighed.

“Yes you can. Is this how you feel when I do it? A little embarrassed?”

“Not at all. I was amazed that you wanted to and grateful that you agreed to be my partner in this exploration. Each and every time.” Din stated quietly, his words weren’t lost on you. He called you his partner, but what did that mean to him? Especially after your last session where you agreed that there would not be other people outside the two of you? Din sits you up in his lap as he had done before. “Sard’ika, no Cyar’ika. I’ll need to explain some things to you before we proceed further.” 

Your hands were planted firmly on his pauldrons as he spoke, looking right at his visor. “The words you call me in your language, they hold a significance don’t they?” You suspected as much, especially when he started calling your ‘mesh’la’ and now ‘cyar’ika’ they seemed important, you’re just not sure how much.

“Sard’ika means flower as you are always so full of life. Mesh’la means beautiful which describes you well, and Cyar’ika is what one calls-” Din pauses, taking a deep breath and pressing you closer to his chest. “Cyar’ika is what one calls their beloved.” Your eyes widened, you were aware that Sard’ika sounded like a nickname, though its true meaning is rather cute, but beloved? Your hands came to the sides of his helmet and butted the top of his helmet lightly. “That action, infers a kiss between us. As I cannot remove my helmet, it’s how I express myself when I want to kiss you Cyar’ika.” His voice was low and pensive, feeling like he should take it one step at a time but he just kept spilling everything out one after another.

“Din. You’ve become important to me as well. I can’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else and I…” You hesitate. You’re fully aware of what his profession entails, the danger, the unknown compound that he’s in charge of a small foundling that he needs to take back to the Jedi, if they even exist anymore. He has responsibilities outside of these sessions and you. But, he also keeps coming back and keeps in communication with you, and clearly cares for you during these sessions and between. You haven’t cared about the credits for quite sometimes and neither has he. “I want you to come back here, with Grogu when you’re not taking jobs or have other things you need to do. I want to see you outside of these sessions and know what it’s like to be by your side Din. Would that be something you do with a beloved?” Tears start to form in your eyes and Din uses his thumbs to wipe them away.

“Yes Cyar’ika. That is something I would greatly desire.” He uses his helmet to touch her cheek, chin, neck and shoulder, imagining it being his own lips, he stops for a moment and looks up to you again. “Are you sure you want Grogu and I in your home? He’s quite a troublemaker.” He chuckled softly, laying you down on your side and he followed next to you. Seeing him in your bed, partially armored is a tad funny. 

“Yes, though I only have the one bedroom so it might be a tight fit until we find something else.” 

“Please, let me worry about our future home. I think I may have something in mind. You’re giving me a home Cyar’ika, let me make you comfortable.” Din reached down and removes the butt plug observing you starting to drift off to sleep again.

“W-Wait, Din. What should-” A finger cuts off your words followed by a stifled chuckle. He’s slipped out of bed and is observing your ass drip with his come. Hearing him hum, you smile before drifting off to sleep again. 

Din takes even more pride in wiping you down this time as you’ve agreed to become his Cyar’ika and partner. He decides to slip back in bed with you and sleep next to you, even in half his armor. It’s a very strange feeling for him and he hopes he doesn’t make you cold. It’s something he would never want his Sard’ika to be.

Previous: Session Four

Next: Session Six

Space Buddies Tag List: @rhoorl @for-a-longlongtime @trulybetty @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maggiemayhemnj @missladym1981 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @linzels-blog @sherala007 @yorksgirl @beabliss-deactivated20231205 @daddy-dins-girl @mandoisapunk @saturn-rings-writes @magpiepills @mrsmando @djarins-cyare @goodwithcheese @fhatbhabie @beefrobeefcal @sp00kymulderr @laurfilijames @secretelephanttattoo @megamindsecretlair @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @perotovar @pamasaur @legendary-pink-dot @alltheglitterandtheroar @harriedandharassed @handspunyarns @soft-persephone

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin #Sard'ika Sessions #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin x reader

[goldieisontheinternet]

IMPORTANT!! RE:IRAN

cw//police brutality, violence against women in general (if theres anything else to add let me know)

 so most of you probably dont know whats going on in iran right now, i would like to inform and spread the word because in all honesty its all i can do.

 i’ll get to the point, Mahsa Amini, 22 female, was murdered by hijab police in Iran. Her family confirmed that she was beaten by police for the crime of wearing “bad hijab”  this isnt the first time that this is happening, it absolutely disgusts me to say but many get abused and hit both physically and mentally due to not “covering up properly” and speaking up against the absolute horrid situation and rules iran have put on women. there are endless videos online showing this and blood has been long since spilled at this point. there are many protest happening as we speak.  now i am not the best at explaining the situation because i am very stressed out because of the whole trahedy and police being all around the country but there are some great threads on twt that could get you up on speed on whats happening. HUGE CW FOR THESE. IF YOUR CANNOT HANDLE TOPICS LIKE THIS PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE WITH IT, THANK YOU  threads:  [1]    [2]    [3]  and also on bbc news: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-62940907  this is not the only thing thats been happening, many others have been killed in these protests that i do not have the names of. two lgbtq+ activists have been arrested and put on a death sentence as well but i sadly do not have as much info on this as i would like to admit.  if anyone, ANYONE, wants to make a post regarding this or wants to do research and needs anything translated from persian to eng, they can contact me. there are many persian speaking people out there that would love to help and spread the word. please, be our voice. reblog, share, use the hashtags, anything would help spread the word so we arent forgotten under all of this tragedy.

#iran #mahsa amini #help iran #مهسا امینی #ایران #police brutally #signal boost #violence #violence against women #justice for mahsa amini #forced hijab #police beating #womens rights #women's rights #im so shit at tags please forgive me for not including anything important. im trying my hardest.

[eremorte]

Royal/Rebel swap au 2/7

This section covers Ashlynn, Hunter, Blondie, Cupid, Cerise (and honorarily) Ramona.

So technically Ashlynn and Hunter count as wave one and I didn't realize that at first, so whoops. I haven't read the books in a while so if anything is explained there and is heavily contradicted y'all can let me know.

Also, most of these are more cannon compliant than I realized once I typed them out. It might as well be me rehashing cannon but with context.

Ashlynn:

Rebel->Royal

Ashlynn's father by nature of destiny is a serial husband. I will assume that Ashlynn's dad is the prince, but as destiny demands (or perhaps this is just how he is) he has to follow in the footsteps of Ashlynn's Grandfather (maternal). However because he's a prince, women flock to this man in order to achieve the coveted trope of rags to riches. Once they realize they're not the protagonist but the villain they become bitter and cruel. Ashlynn realizes this and does not fault her stepmother and sisters for their rightful anger. However due to their abusive actions towards she hesitates to help them. (This is basically cannon why am I typing?)

One thing she tries to do is run her shoe store to accumulate enough money for herself to leave so that she doesn't have to suffer for too much longer and her step family can live the life they were "robbed of" although that is secondary to her freedom. Her other goal is to find a way to make the rest of her mother's life easier because she wants to take her too. Her parent's marriage was one of convince and over the years Ashlynn can recognize the true love was desperation, she's seen it first hand from her abusers.

When she meets Hunter and befriends and then falls in love she realizes through their conversations that her father's influence/policies have also given him a harder life than necessary and reluctantly goes back to being a princess to change that, though with a new found confidence that Hunter has taught her from being the lovable dope he is. (and then she passes some law that is ballroom worthy and hosts a massive party with the hope of finding Hunter in the crowd somewhere)

Hunter

He's a sympathetic Rebel like Madeline in that his main reasons for rebelling don't actively contradict his moral code in the fairytales he's a part of. He just falls in love above his station that's his only crime. He heroically saves Snow White from the evil queen, and he has to cut a wolf open because the wolf has eaten a girl who is both someone he knows and is actively being digested (both wolf and girl live in the end too).

Making him actively a Royal would just be getting him to acknowledge that marrying rich is actually a thing for guy's too, or rather, the main focus of Cinderella isn't that she marries a prince (admittedly the easiest way to escape the situation she's in given the resources this man has) it's that she has the means to escape her abusive household. Which Hunter provides already. He can be proud of his destiny with her in his life. (in Farrah's diary they make Hunter the next Cinderella because he's the poorer one).

Blondie:

As a journalist she is persistent and reports on whatever she can that is interesting and eventually her thieving hands unwittingly capture hard won proof that Headmaster Grimm and the system is garbage. Although being the kind of person she is she has to find that out for herself she cannot be told by anyone else what to do. She has no sense of danger at all.

Cupid:

As a myth Cupid is free to pick a lot of destinies and personally I am not about to research this. The first myth that comes actively to my head is Eros and Pysche as told by OSP but as she originates from Monster High I'd like to imagine that a more "Royal" Cupid is more Freaky-fabulous, the kind of Royal that boosts the untold stories and would call into question how stories are chosen to be told at all.

Cerise:

Her parents shower her with love and affection, but that's roughly the only place she receives it being truly herself. When you're bombarded by the message that a part of your heritage is evil day in and day out by everyone else, you're bound to internalize something. I imagine Cerise both in cannon and in this hypothetical one having massive imposter syndrome (cannon Cerise just manages better). She's not scared of Ramona, she's not scared of her destiny anymore because she know's breaking free is possible. Her parents, herself and her sister, are proof of that. She's just paralyzed with fear and dread because she doesn't know how to climb out. Her destiny doesn't involve her leaving Hood Hollow, she has to make the best of it here. The easiest thing to default to is destiny because she knows how deeply everyone believes. One day she's bound to crack under the stress and wrongly trust someone that she shouldn't and be hurt by it. (Raven is a good call, but Cerise was also terrified when Kitty threatened her with her secret. I wouldn't be surprised if she was willing to tell someone else had Raven not been where she was). Self fulling prophecy and all that.

Ramona:

Because there's so little proof of her existence anything goes really. This part isn't so much rebel/royal as it at this point a better counterpoint for Cerise more extreme anxiety.

I'd like to imagine Ramona is more proud than scared of her wolf heritage like Cerise would be. Before Professor Badwolf officially obtained his teaching license and could manage a classroom, he and Ramona schemed ways to protect the family and keep them afloat. Badwolf discouraged it because she shouldn't have to worry but Ramona insists/found ways to include herself. (small head cannon example: Badwolf was a landlord to the three little pigs).

Because of this she has become massively resourceful and she believes in her capability no matter the odds. However convincing Cerise the same in herself doesn't work the way Ramona hopes. Despite their fights they are fiercely loyal to each other and someday Ramona will find a way to break through to Cerise and convince her there is a place for both of them, even if that means leaving home.

#ever after high #eah #ashlynn ella #hunter huntsman #ca cupid #cerise hood #ramona badwolf #Royal/Rebel swap au #Rebel/Royal Swap au #eah headcanons #blondie lockes

[wetcatspellcaster]

Hey! OK so I absolutely love your Pieces fic, I have some questions!!

Firstly, how much would you say Ascended Astarion remembers and knows from pre-ascension, and how much did he depend on the diaries? is he the same but just soulless? Or someone entirely different, but with the memories leftover?

Was it spawn astarion's memories of love that made the Ascended Astarion want to kill the people and grab Rosalie's attention, or was it just loneliness?

Like what ultimately made him want to continue to have Rosalie, rather than anyone else? Just thinking back to the chapter where he is charming Rosalie to admit what she loved about spawn astarion etc.

Sorry for all the questions! I love this fic so much and I can't wait for the next chapter!

hello, darling anon.

Thank you so much for your ask. Some parts of this I cannot answer without spoilering things that haven't been covered in the story yet! There is still some ambiguity as of Chapter 19, and it is deliberate, so if you still have some questions or theories at this point, that is in fact as intended!

The bits I can answer:

The Ascended remembers and has all Astarion's memories from pre-Ascension, but they aren't as clear or vivid. The diaries are an aid, and he's not so much trying to remember as he is trying to recapture the emotion or quality to those moments that defies just eidetic memory (think of his condition a little bit like if you had a treasured memory yourself, but you don't have any of the nostalgia/fondness for it when you remember it, you just see the image or the rolling movie in your mind. The diaries were used to try to recapture the emotions associated with it, which the Ascendent does not seemingly have access to).

Love vs. loneliness - it's a mixture of both? The Ascendent is incredibly lonely, and in the decade between the start and the now of the fic there have been many other coping mechanisms attempted, they're just not the focus of the story. When all those fail to address the problem, the Ascendent goes back to his first original lifeline- Tav/Rosalie. He's trying to recapture something, and he's idealised her, 'the one that got away', as the answer.

As for why it wants Rosalie... this will be explained later. But hopefully there have been a few cases made in the fic already! I mentioned in a previous ask that the Ascendent feels very abandoned, I think there's a fascination with Rose bc he's like "I was abandoned, and you were abandoned too. That's what makes us the same." In refusing to submit, she also genuinely offers new novelty to his life, and that feeds the fascination as well. And that moment when she was charmed in the dining hall was genuinely getting close to exactly what the Ascendent wanted, because he could pretend he was happy.

In a spoiler-free version, the Ascendent is driven by a lack of something. Rosalie was one of the techniques it uses to try and fill in that lack. More will be explained in time :)

#asks #anons #wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

☀️ Cast No Shade 🐎

jomary fic - 5193 words - rating: T - western au - read on ao3

There isn’t much to Saint William, the motley one street town that the surrounding ranches flee to when their occupants need to get supplies, food, or drunk. Luckily for Jo Harvelle and Mary Campbell (barmaid at the Roadhouse Saloon and stablehand of the Singer Stables) their occupations fall well into these categories. And so: while they are not content, they are earning, and there is much to be said for that for two young women in a small town nearing the bottom corner of Nebraska.

Jo and Mary: cowgirls, sapphics, and gender extraordinares. They're running and they're kissing and, most importantly, dicussing their names and shattered pasts.

i cannot thank @kerryweaverlesbian enough for betaing this fic. i really couldn't have done it without you <3

written for my josjoyousbday celebration!!

It’s early evening on a scorchingly hot July day when Jo Harvelle drops by the Singer stables. The temperature has only just become bearable. Jo tugs her bandana down from around her mouth as she wanders along the ramshackle wooden stalls. The dust outside is unmanageable, what with the lack of rainfall for almost a month now, but inside it gets just that bit easier to breathe. Whether that’s truly from the break in the dust or simply because her mother isn’t standing, hovering over her shoulder is probably up for debate. 

Either way, Jo takes her time making her way through the long corridor of the stables and greeting the horses on either side of her. The town is small enough she knows all of them pretty easily. She gives a congenial pat to Eileen’s broad bay, Sam, who looks to be more moose than horse. Conversely, she keeps a wide berth of Cas, Meg’s horse, who Meg always complains seems to have come out the farm with a crack in his hoof.  

She produces an apple from her pocket for Claire. Claire had been Jimmy Novak’s horse, before Jimmy got himself killed on some holy mission several years ago while Claire was young. Claire is now in the habit of bolting for the fields the second she sees an open gate, and Bobby once explained to Jo it was likely because of the trauma of losing Jimmy. 

“Horses,” he’d said, “are surprisingly human creatures.”

Since then, Jo has felt a particular kinship to Claire, and an apple shared between them is a ritual she likes to think does them both good. Today, though, that ritual is cut short, as Jo spies movement in another stall out the corner of her eye.

There’s one horse, in the stall beside her own, that Jo hasn’t seen before. She’s a gorgeous Arabian mare, with a hide so black she looks like she’s been dipped in rich ink. And she’s tall, too: Jo can’t see her legs from here, but she knows they’ll be lean and strong. This is a horse built for running. But no one runs through the meager, fatigued town of Saint William if they can help it.

So who’s here running? Who from? Or, Jo ponders, who to?

Jo is so deep in thought over who could possibly be the owner of that beautiful horse, the fact the door to her own horse’s stall is slightly ajar slips her by. It continues to slip her by until she goes to unlatch it, and finds the wooden panel bangs restlessly against the post. It then swings away, freely, revealing a skirt-covered behind bent over a rake. The person the behind is attached to appears to be turning the hay on the stable floor, a shortish head of blonde hair almost indistinguishable from the hay around her. 

“Holy hell!” Jo splutters, managing to bang the stall door into her fingers in the shock of her surprise. She hisses a curse. By the time she’s shaken her hand out and opened up her eyes again, the girl has risen to her full height and is looking on apologetically.

“Sorry,” she says, in a drawl somewhere between sweet and gravelly; like a siren with dust in her throat. Jo likes it. “I didn’t mean to startle you- is your hand alright?”

Nodding, Jo manages a small smile. “Sure. May I ask what you’re doing with my horse?” Her tone comes out perhaps a little sharper than she intended, as the girl recoils away slightly. But still, the girl’s in Jo’s stall, Jo reckons, and even if it’s a free country she has the right of way.

Her horse isn’t a horse to be trifled with, either. Everyone knows that. A dashing gray Quarter horse, Blade had been raised alongside Jo such that they were more like brother and sister than horse and rider. She’d named him Blade while she was young enough for her father to be alive, and quite rightly, too: his hide shines, almost metallic silver in the sun. 

“I was clearing his stall out, miss. I’m the new stablehand.”

Jo folds her arms. “I ain’t heard of no new stablehand.”

“Well, I am one,” the girl rebuts, with a certain amount of her own spunk. “You can ask Mr Singer if you really want, but all you’ll hear is that I arrived yesterday and started work today.”

“Where are you staying?” Jo quizzes.

“Mr Singer is letting me board.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Lawrence. Kansas.”

“Why are you here?”

“My parents died,” the girl says, and lowers her chin in such a way Jo instantly knows this part of the conversation is over. 

The girl opposite her is not much older than Jo herself, if at all. Her hair falls around her face unevenly, like she hacked it off herself in some dingy saloon mirror; strangely, something like jealousy rises in Jo’s chest over that surely undesirable image. The skirt she’s wearing is tattered around the hem. Similarly, her shirt is crumpled and mud-stained, visibly wearing at the elbows and collar. This is the appearance of a girl who hasn’t got much, and so Jo is inclined to believe her.

“I’m sorry,” Jo says, scuffing the toe of her boot along the floor. “I’ve lost my Daddy too.”

The blonde girl nods. She opens her mouth as if she has something more on the topic to say, but then seems to change her mind. She lets whatever idea she had go with a little puff of breath and instead says, “Mr Singer was a friend of my pa’s. That’s why I’m stayin’ here, so you know. I ain’t some nobody.”

“No,” Jo mutters, and she can feel her cheeks reddening. “I didn’t think you were. I was surprised to find you here, is all. Bobby didn’t say anyone new was coming.”

“Well, I’m here,” the girl says with a shrug. A hint of a smile catches on her lip as she takes the moment to rather blatantly look Jo over, from tip to toe. Jo feels like she’s being inspected, or studied, or something. Like if the girl were to take an exam on her now, she’d get all the answers right. “Might be a good thing too. I’m Mary Campbell,” the girl, now Mary, announces. 

Jo nods, feeling her own cheeks dimple. “Mary,” she repeats softly, feeling the name in her mouth. It’s a little plain, as all the girl’s names seem to be in these parts, but it fits her, Jo thinks. There’s always more to a Mary than meets the eye.

“And what’s your name?” Mary asks, turning back to her work in the stall. Blade doesn’t seem to mind her presence at all, happily munching from his food box. If nothing else had made Jo trust Mary already, that sign alone would have.

“Everyone calls me Jo,” Jo supplies in turn. She pushes the stall door to, so she can lean against it and peer over as Mary works. As Mary bends over again, it’s another one of those moments where Jo wishes women got to wear unforgiving denim jeans like the men did. 

“That short for anything?” 

“My mamma seems to think so,” Jo huffs. “But it’s really just Jo. Jo Harvelle.”

“Alright then. Howdy, Jo Harvelle, it’s nice to meet you.”

**

There isn’t much to Saint William, the motley one street town that the surrounding ranches flee to when their occupants need to get supplies, food, or drunk. Luckily for Jo and Mary (barmaid at the Roadhouse Saloon and stablehand of the Singer Stables) their occupations fall well into these categories. And so: while they are not content, they are earning, and there is much to be said for that for two young women in a small town nearing the bottom corner of Nebraska.

A year after Mary’s surprise arrival, the July sun scorches the land as surely as it did the very first time Jo and Mary met. Jo pulls her hat from her head and fans herself with it a little as she slips into the Singer Stables, in a move now so habitual she barely thinks about it. The late afternoon’s fingertips are starting to loosen their grip to the cooler breeze of evening. Only just, though. 

“Hey honey, I’m home,” she calls out among the seemingly empty stalls. 

Blade snorts fondly at the sound of her voice. A second later, Mary’s blonde head pops out of the stall beside Blade’s, the stall now belonging to the horse which had stolen Jo’s attention that day a year ago. 

“Hey,” Mary says, a smile curling across her lips at the sight of Jo. Her gaze drops from Jo’s eyes as she rambles closer, drifting across her chapped lips instead.

“Hey,” Jo agrees, falling readily into the kiss Mary presses between them. It’s too chaste, like a tequila shot; leaves Jo wanting a chaser, wanting more. But still, it’s kinda perfect. 

Since Mary ran into Jo’s life, it’s been far more kinda perfect than it ever was before. 

The contact is over, but still they stand in each other’s orbit, neither of them wanting to pull away. The heat seeps through the skin and straight to the stomach, on days like this. It doesn’t matter that to stand so close means yet more warmth. Not when the rising devotion in Jo’s stomach has her singing for intimacy. 

“How’s Baby?” she murmurs, lips still close enough to Mary’s cheeks to grace her sun-weathered face. Jo feels, easily, how the hairs on both of their necks rise and stand like a freshly lit flame. 

Mary grins, turning away to gaze at her horse so tenderly it almost makes Jo jealous. The Arabian mare stands, gleaming black as ever. “She’s good,” she says. “Wheels need oiling a little, maybe, but she’ll run.”

Jo laughs, feeding her fingers between Mary’s buckled hands. 

They’d fallen into a relationship in the brisk air of last October, rather in the same way the Earth turns. One day, they weren’t ferociously making out in the back corners of local barns and yet, the next they were. 

One thing which Jo had noticed almost from the first kiss though, was how crooked Mary’s fingers were. Like they’d been broken and trampled and never given the time to heal right. But it was a hard question to ask, how a girl got all her fingers broken and crudely healed again by the ripe old age of 19.

Jo had chanced it once, and got the blunt reply that “my parents were bounty hunters. They wanted me in on the family business. But sometimes, the bounties hunt you back.” Then Mary had dipped her chin again, in the way that Jo knew meant she was starting to pour salt into a wound not yet healed. 

It hadn’t taken much to put two and two together and realize that bounty hunting was probably how Mary’s parents had wound up dead. It also took a single glance at Mary to see she was glad to be out of it. It must be a terrible thing, Jo mused, for that kind of death to feel like an escape. But if the paper she had seen crumpled on Bobby’s desk was to be believed, it seemed that her parents’ death had almost been Mary’s. 

Now, with her fingers entwined around Mary’s, still broken, Jo wonders - and not for the first time - what it’s like to come back from the brink of death. How it would be to come back, and not know if you’ve come back wrong. 

But then again, Mary’s fingers have healed in all sorts of finicky, wrong ways. And Jo loves how exquisite they are all the same.

“Tell me you’re finished up here, and that you’ll take me somewhere fun,” Jo hums.

“Can do, cowboy,” Mary chuckles.  “Let me get my hat and we can go.”

Mary brushes off the hay from her skirt, gives one last caring look over all the horses, and sets her brown hat firmly on her head. Then, she grabs Jo’s hand and marches them back out into the staunch heat of the unbroken street.

“You know what I fancy, in this shitty weather?” Mary asks loosely as they wander up the road. Past Rufus’ grocers on one side, past the doctor’s office Garth runs on the other. 

Jo shrugs, always happy just to let Mary chat on in her own conversation. Contrary to what her mother might think, Jo doesn’t always need to be talking. She’s more of the quiet type, really. It’s easier to hear more about others, that way. And perhaps to hide more of yourself.

Then they’re along past the Sheriff’s office, where posters with crudely drawn pictures scream ‘WANTED’ for a Nick, a Uriel, a Ruby. Sheriff Jody and Deputy Donna wave from inside, friendly-like, as Jo and Mary pass by. 

“Now, you mayn’t like me for this but I think it’s an awful good idea,” Mary stipulates, and Jo begins to see where they’re headed, and feels the excitement drain from her bones. 

“Come on,” Jo moans, feet still moving weakly towards the top of the street.

“More than anything in the whole world, what I want right now is a drink,” Mary says triumphantly, pointing towards the beaten up, almost knocked down sign reading Roadhouse Saloon.

Jo sighs. Her breath comes out lukewarm, and the heat suddenly turns her stomach more towards apathy than any romantic notion. 

“I’ve just spent the whole day in that saloon, I don’t want to go back,” she huffs, pushing her weight against the direction Mary is still towing her in. 

“Think of it - a nice cold beer at the end of a working day-”

“Think of it,” Jo lays out clearly. “My mother.”

“Just imagine her as a coyote, she won’t attack you as long as you don’t provoke her,” Mary assures her. She gives Jo’s hand another encouraging pull. “Come on, please.”

Jo shakes her head with a definite grump, but there’s a smile growing on her face, and she knows she’ll probably give in.

“Come on, Josephine,” Mary laughs, dragging her towards the Roadhouse. “Let’s have a bit of fun.”

Jo halts at that, though. The name that slipped through Mary’s mouth oh so easily. 

“My name ain’t Josephine,” she says, tugging her hand free from Mary’s. She stops in the street, still, a few feet from where Mary now stands. All trace of amiableness gone, Jo scuffs the dust with the toe of her boots.

Mary turns to face her. Her hat has fallen from her head and so rests at the back of her hair, caught on the string around her neck. The ashy strands of her bangs glint in the dry sun. Her smile hasn’t faded; “yeah, I know, you’re just Jo-”

“No,” Jo says. “I mean, my name ain’t Josephine. It’s Joanna.” She heaves a sigh. “Joanna-Beth.”

Mary’s mouth forms the ‘oh’ before Jo hears it. It’s frustrating, that even like this, when Jo has this restless anger shifting about in her, Mary still looks so downright kissable. She stands a little awkwardly, like she wants to close the distance between them but doesn’t know how to. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I just kinda assumed…”

“I know,” Jo shrugs simply. And just like that, the anger dissipates again, like there was no reason for the itch ever to be there. “I didn’t tell you. But now I have.” 

The street is empty around them. A part of Jo’s brain cries out that this feels somewhat like a shootout; Mary shot first, and she hit the heart now bleeding on Jo’s sleeve. But why her name is causing this consternation, Jo isn’t really sure.

“‘S not really a big deal,” she says, stepping forward to be closer to Mary again. “I’m still just Jo, really.”

Mary hesitates, for a frightening second, like she has something more to say on the matter. And maybe she should. Almost a year they’ve known each other, and only now does she know Jo’s full name. 

But then her face curves back upwards into a smile. “Yeah, you’re just Jo. And as it happens, I like Jo quite a damn bit.” She leans in conspiratorially. “So it works out.”

Jo feels a fresh blush ignite her cheeks, and Mary offers out her hand. Under the sun, her pale palm seems to radiate its own light. Mary wiggles her fingers tantalizingly. Broken, but exquisite. Just-Jo takes her partner's hand, and lets her drag them both into the saloon.

**

A week later, Jo and Mary are collapsed under a tree, nestled in a dell between the swathes of long grass. The day is hot again, but not like before, not unbearable. Just managing to err on pleasant: in the shade the yellowing tree is casting, it’s particularly nice. 

Their horses are grazing in the field nearby. They’d ridden out of Saint William until it was nothing but a blur on the horizon, flickering feverishly in the warm air. Now, it’s one of those days which are completely spontaneous and entirely planned all at the same time - like neither of them knew it would happen beforehand, but once it did, there was never another option. 

Mary is slumped against the trunk of the tree, wide brim of her hat pulled low over her head. The slight wind plays mildly with her short hair. She hasn’t bothered to put it up, what with the ride being easy and the day not being wildly hot. 

The deft waving of the sun-bleached strands are somewhat hypnotic to Jo, as she lays perpendicular to Mary, with her head in her lap. Staring up at her from below, Jo is blearily reminded of the globe in the table of the town’s’ schoolroom. When she was young, she’d sit by it on the floor in class and gaze up at the countries no one properly saw from above. Antarctica, Australia. And now, looking up at Mary, she feels equally let in on a secret. It’s like Mary becomes the whole world.

“I have a question for you,” Mary says, breaking open a very comfortable silence. Apart from their voices, the only other sounds are the occasional snorts of Blade and Baby; a swish of their tails as the flies get too close. 

Mary’s been running her fingers through Jo’s hair, just softly, molding little rivers of hair over Jo’s forehead and brushing them aside. With her other hand, she’s working her way leisurely through an apple, and the faint tang of the fruit wafts in the air around them.

“Sure,” Jo says, rising a little from the half-doze that Mary’s gentle brushing of her hair had instilled in her. “Ask away.”

“You haven’t got to answer it,” Mary assures her, and for the first time Jo realizes that Mary is unsure about whatever it is she wants to say. Her hat casts a long, steady shadow over her face so that Jo can’t quite see the detail of her eyes. If she could, she isn’t sure what she’d see.

Jo props herself up on her elbows and tilts her head up towards Mary’s. Mary pulls her hand away from Jo’s hair, and leaves it hovering in the air beside them. Like static - Jo doesn’t have to see it to know it’s still there. Closer to her face, Jo can feel the heat radiating off Mary’s cheeks. 

“Okay,” she murmurs. Her voice comes out a little lower than the intended, and maybe she just wants to but she feels Mary shiver a little with it. “What’s the question?”

“Why do you want everyone to call you Jo? I know it ain’t up to me, but. Joanna-Beth is such a pretty name.”

Jo nods. She hums, to buy time with an answer more than anything, and settles back down in Mary’s lap. Mary’s hand hovers over her head, as if she’s unsure she can touch her again. Jo finds Mary’s gaze in the cool wash of the shade and shoots her a smile. With the brim of her hat all around her head, Mary looks like she has a halo. But not one made of light, one made of chestnut felt. A cowgirl angel. Mary places her hand back along Jo’s parting, running her fingers lightly against her hair again. 

“Do you like the name Mary?” Jo asks. It’s not in lieu of an answer: she’s building up to it. Mary, as she understands almost everything, seems to understand this. 

“Well I guess I don’t mind it,” Mary answers fairly. “I don’t know- it’s a common name, easily. A lot of girls in this town are called Mary. Makes me feel a little plain. But then again, it’s never really been a problem for me. My name was just something given to me, and I never thought about not taking it.”

Jo hums again. With one of her hands, she searches in the grass around her for a second to find what she wants. When she curls her hand around a blade good enough, she gives it a sharp tug and brings it to her mouth, letting her jaw work around it. Something to do while she thinks of what to say.

Mary knows this all, knows she hasn’t got to go on to fill the silence, but she does. “I guess, now, if there’s one thing I don’t like about it, it’s about how Mary is a mother’s name. Virgin Mary, Mother of Christ, all that. Now I love Christ as much as the next woman, don’t get me wrong-”

Jo huffs a laugh.

“-but I don’t want to be giving birth to him. I don’t want to be a mother like that. And when you’re called Mary- why, feels like that’s what you were put on this earth to do, I guess.”

“I don’t think you were put on this earth for that at all,” Jo intercepts, finding her voice again. She’s well aware it’s a weakness, but she can always find her voice when she’s not talking about herself. “I think you were put on this earth to ride horses and leave this town and settle on a nice ranch and watch the sun go down over the mountains.”

She should’ve really said ‘you were put on this earth to do whatever you want to do,’ because that’s what she means. But she knows Mary enough to know that everything she just listed is what Mary wants to do. Lord knows Jo just wants Mary to want her by her side for all of it too.

“Thanks, Jo,” Mary murmurs. Her fingers are constant along Jo’s hairline again, but the rhythm seems to change, now. Becomes a thank you as much as a you are loved.

“And to answer your question myself,” Jo begins, because she believes in fair play, even if it does take her a while to get there. “I’ve never liked Joanna-Beth. It’s just never felt right. My mother always calls me that - ‘specially when she’s angry with me. She’s always been proud of calling me it, though, ‘cause she thought of the name herself. Loves it. Took her a long time to call me Jo.”

Jo takes a breath then, reading herself for the monologue. Sometimes, she gets the feeling she’s just a body built of dams, waiting to burst. Every joint is a blockade, and every day she’s trying to keep every one of them closed. But sometimes, when someone asks the right question, it’s hard to keep even one of them shut. That’s why she talks so little, and then all the time. She never could do anything by halves. 

“But my daddy, ‘fore he died- he loved calling me Jo. Always said I should be whatever I wanted to be. Lookin’ back, though, maybe he just wanted a son. Maybe I want to be his son, I don’t know. But I can remember him saying it. I can remember his voice saying ‘Jo’, and not much else of him. So maybe it’s a way to keep him alive.”

Mary sighs darkly. “I know that feeling,” she says. “My name is the only thing my parents gave me that I have left.”

Jo reaches her hand out and grasps Mary’s, giving it a tight squeeze. The loss is fresher for her still than it is for Jo - it’s been over a decade since Bill Harvelle died. It’s been not even two years since the Campbells were murdered.

They stay like that for a while, Jo’s hand locked around Mary’s. A sign of sympathy and empathy and all that’s between. Jo’s still got the straw in her mouth, and she chews it, roughly and repeatedly while she thinks of her own question she maybe shouldn’t ask. It’s an odd one, she knows that. But if Mary doesn’t want to be a mother, maybe she’s more like Jo than Jo could’ve previously hoped.

Jo coughs, roughly. The words are scratchy in her throat, like she’s forcing them out.  “Did you ever want to be a son, rather than a daughter?” Jo asks. She’s trying not to think about how hard that was to say.

Mary pauses, resettles herself against the tree. “What do you mean?”

Jo can sense her face flushing red under Mary’s question. But now the words are in the air with the scents of grass and apple and she can’t take them back.

“I don’t really…” she trails off. Are there even the words in her to be found to explain what she means? “I don’t think I’ll be able to say it right. But I mean- do you sometimes think you like girls more than you want to be one?”

It’s Mary’s turn to hum, now, as she works the question over in her mind. Jo picks at the stubs of her nails while Mary does so; for all that Mary’s patient with Jo’s silence, Jo can never quite repay her with the same grace.

“I think being a girl in a place like this is hard,” Mary says, eventually, carefully. “There’s aplenty of times when I’ve wished I were a fella just to get by a little easier, or so another girl would want me how I want them. But I don’t know if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t think I know either,” Jo sighs, restless. “It’s hard to tell the difference.”

“To tell the difference between what?”

“Well, between wanting to be with a woman, wishing I could do what a man does, and being seen as a man myself, I guess.”

Mary places her apple on the ground, and presses her fingers purposefully to her own lips, and then to Jo’s. Jo can taste the bittery sweetness of the apple’s flesh even as Mary’s fingers leave her mouth. 

“What were that for?” Jo asks, helplessly falling into a smile

“‘Cause I see you got a lot happening in your mind, and I want you to know I love you for all of it.”

The words find residency in Jo’s heart and sit there, twinkling, making her feel a way she could never quite dream of describing. “Oh,” she smiles breathlessly. “Thanks.”

Mary is gazing fondly down at her, her own cheeks dimpled. She takes a breath, and twists a strand of Jo’s hair around her finger. Whether to fiddle or to keep Jo close, Jo isn’t sure. “Listen, I don’t know if this will help or not,” Mary begins. Maybe Jo would follow Mary through the darkest mine and deepest ocean, or maybe Jo just believes whatever Mary says will help. “But bein’ with you… makes me want to be a woman more than anytime else. I love loving you like this. And if you feel like you need people to see you a certain way- well I see you an’ I think you’re perfectly lovely.”

Something seems to slot into place, then, like the out of tune piano at the Roadhouse finally hitting the right chord. The words resonate, bringing the world out into a harmony which rings, rises, and then falls quietly back, like nothing has changed at all. But Jo knows it has - and she also knows the flush on her cheeks is reaching a furious red. “I didn’t just say all this to get complimented.”

“I know,” Mary laughs, and it sounds like singing. Her siren song. “But it’s true. If Joanna-Beth is strictly off limits, then I’ll call you Jo ‘til we’re sat watching the sun go down over those mountains.”

Jo furrows her eyebrows. “Well, it’s just… everybody calls me Jo,” she says, worrying at her lip. But then she thinks of that perfect chord resonating out across the long grass which Mary’s words caused. In that moment, she didn’t mind how long her hair was, because it was Mary working her fingers all the way through it. And she stares back up at Mary’s face, where the whole world is haloed by her chestnut hat. “But you ain’t everybody.”

Mary grins. “No?”

“No,” Jo replies firmly. “You call me whatever you see fit.”

She gets up properly, then, pulls the straw from her mouth with abandon and threads her fingers through the hand Mary had been carding through her hair. On her knees, Jo crawls to where Mary has her back against the tree. Mary peels herself forward, tugging Jo in with gravity until they’re both closer and closest to one another’s faces. 

When their threaded hands move tenderly towards each other’s cheeks, Jo cannot tell which of them is leading the movement. They’ve merged, become one, the gossamer strands of blonde hair fluttering between them belonging to either of them.

“Just call me-” Jo pants, losing her voice as her longing overcomes her.

“What?” Mary asks. Her breath is hot and palpable against Jo’s wet lips. 

Jo swallows. “Just call me yours.”

There’s a moment of just looking, where their gazes are shared with such intensity it’s like the air is honey between them. Then, they crush together, the honey dissolving as their lips meet one another’s with all the urgency of a world on fire. 

Or maybe a world in flood, as everything else falls away, is carried away around Jo as she melts entirely into Mary’s desire. Mary’s hat is knocked aside with the force of their kisses, and she drags her hands up and away to throw it plain off her head before rushing her crooked fingers right back to tug on Jo’s hair, caress her cheeks. 

The world is thrown open in bright sunlight - now, Mary casts no shade. The light blossoms in Jo’s eyes with the sudden change and the world is rendered white. White for bliss, white for desire, white for absolute stone-sure adoration. The shade was comfortable but this, oh this. This is a perilous serenity.

“Mine,” Mary whispers. She dips her head to press her lips to Jo’s neck and draws a sweet nectared whine from Jo’s throat. God, let her leave bruises. “Cowgirl, you’re all mine.”

#i am SO SO BEYOND EXCITED TO POST THIS #hello it's here!!!!!!!! #and genuinely it wouldn't be here without cawis everyone say THANK YOU CAWIS otherwise this would never have gotten finished #so so proud of this one #jo and mary have deep talks about names and gender and being in earth shattering lesbian love. what more could you want #and all for jo's birthday !!!!! #HAPPY BDAY JO #jo harvelle #mary winchester #mary campbell #jomary #maryjo #sapphicnatural #cowboynatural #cowgirlnatural #josjoyousbday #spn fic #ola writes

[waves-against-a-cliff]

First Encounters - Cor x Pertcha

Content Warnings - Cor is a serial killer, mentions of murder, description of a corpse, mentions of blood, violence, drinking alcohol, mentions of alcohol. This does take place in the CoD universe but Cor has no connection to them

A/N - ITS HERE! @thelaisydazy is the one who created Pertcha and neither of us can stop smashing these two barbies together; so here is their meet ugly.

Cor did not consider the likelihood of coming across anyone else here. It was the middle of winter, late at night and frankly her nose was frozen. She couldn’t even reach up and rub it to make it warm because she was currently lugging this body. Cor grunted with effort as she tugged the man’s dead body closer to the river bank. Her normally well kept black hair was a mess. Her bangs stuck to her forehead that was sticky with sweat and her hair was ruffled from the struggle the man had given her. 

“Fucking Christ.” She cursed as she finally got his body to the bank. She leaned against a wooden pool as she caught her breath and thought about renewing her membership to the gym; she didn’t nearly have this much trouble a few years ago. Or maybe the man was just fat. Cor glanced at the man with a sneer on her face, the stab wounds in his chest were definitely overkill; she knew that. Once she had gutted him like a fish the fight was over oh but the rage she had felt. 

Rage was not an uncommon emotion for Cor to feel. It was one of the few feelings that came at her full force or maybe even stronger. Although she wouldn’t say it was easy to make her angry, this man had certainly pushed the few buttons she had in the perfect order. He just would not leave her alone at that bar, constantly hitting on her and being far, far too close for any kind of comfort. So she did what she did best, lured him out into the alley with the promise of a quick fuck then stabbed her switchblade into his gut and kept a hand over his mouth to muffle the screams. Cor glanced down at her outfit which was thoroughly ruined. She grumbled and scrounged around for the emergency pack of clothes she kept hidden in some of her preferred dumping spots. 

Cor nearly snapped her neck when she turned her head after she heard someone approach. She turned around completely and her hand found her switchblade within her blood soaked jacket. From within the darkness by the river bank, she could hardly make out who it was that was approaching. No, two people? Fuck. Cor glanced around but there was nowhere she could both hide this body and herself. As the two people drew closer she realized that one of them was dead. Cor doubted anyone would stay asleep while being dragged against the rocks. 

From the darkness emerged another woman who dragged a body much more efficiently than Cor does. Cor made a face at that realization, she definitely needed to go back to the gym. The woman was wearing all black, including a mask that covered the lower half of her face. She might have brown hair but the darkness made it difficult to be sure but she most definitely had a body. Cor did not expect the woman to speak German. Or what Cor suspected was german; she couldn’t be sure since she took Spanish in school. 

“Dibs.” Cor said. “I call dibs on the river.” 

“What is ‘dibs’?” The woman spoke and that confirmed what Cor suspected, definitely german. That was one thick accent.

“Dibs is basically calling ownership or rights over a place.” Cor explained, unable to stop herself even when she tried to bite her tongue. 

The woman's stare did not waver, her eyes remained on Cor with a weight that made Cor feel closer to an animal than a human. Although according to the papers, she was an animal, a scourge on this city as if it hadn’t been a shithole before she had begun her little hobby here. “It is a river. You cannot claim rights on it.” Cor glanced at the river and then the woman before she shrugged and conceded. She pushed the body into the river with the hopes that it wouldn’t be found until morning and miles away from the spot she was now. She didn’t give the woman a goodbye or even acknowledge her after she had pointed out that Cor could not call dibs on a river.

It was a big city after all. What were the odds Cor would run into this mysterious woman again?

Cor’s new year resolution certainly helped with disposing of bodies. Renewing her gym membership had been the best idea she had in a while, she dragged bodies easier at least. Cor glanced at the corpse she dragged again, this kill had been more clean. Not that killing was ever clean. Cor still had blood on her sweater and jacket, she could feel it sticking to her skin in a way that made her skeleton want to claw out of her skin. Still, she preserved despite the sensation being a nightmare. This dumpsite was an unbought and undeveloped piece of land, it had been this way since before Cor was even born and likely had been this way when her grandparents were teenagers. 

Unchecked and uncared for, Cor had made this a spot where she would hide bodies for who knows how long. The cops certainly weren’t looking because if they were, they would have combined their three brain cells to realize this was the perfect spot. Cor used a gap in the fence to get in, yet another failure on the city’s part, and dragged the corpse with her. Once far enough into the area, she dropped the leg, leaned against a tree and fished out a cigarette. She lit the cancer stick and let the smell waft through the air. She breathed it in deep like someone might incense and let the familiar smell relax her just a little. 

Cor turned her head when she heard the unmistakable sound of another body being dragged and couldn’t help the words that spilled out of her mother next, “You have got to be fucking kiddin’ me.” With the cigarette being the only light source, it still did a better job then the weak streetlights did a few months ago when winter was at its strongest. Now Cor could make out a few more details of this mysterious woman. She still wore a black mask that covered half her face but now Cor could see she had gray eyes and her hair was in fact brown and in twin braids. And of course the woman with gray eyes and braided brown hair dragged a body with her again. 

And just like before, that gaze of hers made Cor feel like an animal. An inconvenience to her day and Cor had to fight back the urge to avert her gaze. Cor watched as the woman did not waste any more time, she dumped the body where she stood and went back the way she came. Although, notably, she did not turn her back to Cor. Cor didn’t understand why this detail remained in her head once she had returned to her apartment, but it did. Cor pulled off her shoes and tossed them to the corner where she kept all of her shoes as she thought about it. 

What was the likelihood that they would have run into each other again? And last that Cor had checked, there was still no news of another serial killer stalking the streets. So that meant the woman was a mystery in more than just appearance and personality but also just existing. Cor bit the inside of her cheek as she mulled that thought in the shower, the water warming her cold body. The longer Cor thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. The more it didn’t make sense the more her natural curiosity wanted to find out and Cor knew that her curiosity was a dangerous thing to indulge in. Cor pushed those thoughts to the side with a quiet chuckle and a shake of her head. She was being paranoid, she surmised, no need to keep thinking about it.

Cor glared at the woman. Her patience thinned to a fine strand. There was no way on this earth that she kept running into her. Especially at such an obscure dumpsite as this. A river? Classic, everyone knows you can dumb a body into a river and leave the cops trying to figure out where it first entered. An unbought and undeveloped piece of land that has no prospects of becoming any of those things? A little bit of research would tell anyone that. But at a dumpster behind a bar who’s lights flickered, where the smell of cigarette and cigar smoke filled the air? So very, very unlikely. “Why are you followin’ me?” Cor asked and was barely able to keep her voice cool instead of snarling like the animal she was.

At least she didn’t have a body to hide this time and she had just been scoping the place out. The last thing she had been expecting, although she should have been, was to end up pinned against a wall with an arm pressed against her windpipe. Up close, Cor could see just how gray her eyes were and the little strands of brown hair that were loose from the braids. “No.” The woman said, the German accent still as strong as the day they had run into one another. “Who are you working for?”

Cor scoffed but it sounded more like a cough, “Workin’ for? I’m workin’ for nobody.” She snapped but the woman apparently did not believe her as she pressed her arm against Cor’s windpipe harder.

“I ask again, who do you work for?”

“No one!” Cor hissed and with the strength of someone who was trying not to be choked into unconsciousness (she really did not want to find out what would happen after that), she pushed her away. Cor went to grab her pepper spray and cursed her lack of some kind of weapon. But the other woman was quick, she moved quicker then Cor had ever seen someone move before and she did not have time to protect her face when she swung her fist at Cor.

Cor landed on the ground and groaned, she held her nose which throbbed. Definitely broken, Cor thought but did not remain in her thoughts or on the ground for long. She quickly got up and scrambled away from the german woman with steel gray eyes and mousy brown hair. When she sat at home, frozen bags of peas on her nose and a smaller bag of frozen strawberries on her busted lip, she realized that if the woman hadn’t wanted her to get away she wouldn’t have.

A thought that would have normal people shuddering from terror sent a thrill down her spine. She let me go, Cor thought, which didn’t make much sense if the woman truly believed Cor was working for someone. These thoughts would continue to plague her until a few weeks later.

Normally, Cor enjoyed a challenge within her respective career. She liked taking on unusual cases or files thicker than her arm but this week had really taken its toll. She didn’t even have the energy or desire to participate in her hobby. All she wanted was exactly two fruity cocktails from the bar near her apartment building and to watch terrible romcoms until her brain melted or she forgot about how much work she would have waiting for her once the weekend was over. But instead of the peace she wanted, not quiet because nothing is ever quiet at a bar, she was being bothered by a man who was one) far below her and two) fucking drunk. Cor was not even finished with her second cocktail so she was not sufficiently buzzed to be dealing with this.

She had started to think about punching the dick in the face when a woman, with familiar gray eyes and mousy brown hair approached. “I would leave her alone. You do not want trouble, ja?” Maybe it was the way she spoke or the way she looked at the man but he scrambled off but not without him muttering about the woman being a bitch. Cor didn’t get to say thank you as the woman turned and took a seat far from her. Cor watched as she ordered and Cor made her decision. She waved down the bartender and paid for the woman’s next drink (a whiskey made neat). When the bartender put the second drink of whiskey in front of her, the woman looked confused until the bartender gestured to Cor. Cor smiled at the woman, slightly tipped her head in thanks and down the rest of her cocktail. She ignored the burn in her throat from the vodka and left before the buzz could completely set in.

#oc x oc #oc x oc ship

[lilover131]

Chapter 73 and 74 Analysis

Long time no see! It’s been stressful over here, since I just moved into a new house (my first time living on my own!) and have been distracted with unpacking everything as well as just living life, but I have lots of good things coming my way and much to look forward to! But I’m exhausted...hahahaha.

These past two chapters managed to be both extremely calm and yet crazy exciting at the same time! I know the new chapter is pretty much out now (or will be very very soon), and so I wanted to get this out before I officially read it and don’t get behind three months in a row! There is so much to talk about, so let’s dive right in! 

In chronological order, we’ll start off with chapter 73! OMG, THE LILIE COLOR PAAGGEEEEE!! I’m in love with her dress, and honestly this may be my favorite outfit drawn so far in the entirety of Clear Card. It’s so elegant, detailed, and definitely gives me those Tsubasa/Magic Knight Rayearth vibes! Lilie looks like a straight up princess, and it reminds me just a bit of Kaito’s outfit on the chapter 40 cover page. Lilie’s is a lighter blue color than that particular image, but it has that gradient blue on the white with the gold filagree pattern, so I almost wonder if this was done on purpose… 

The chapter starts off more a little bit after where the last one left off. Sakura has returned from school after her revelation and conversation with Syaoran, and she goes straight to Akiho to spill the beans about the magical world. Regardless of whether Sakura thinks Akiho would accept it or not (which of course she would), I think this is a good call and will make things easier if everyone in the household is on the same page (TALK TO FUJITAKA SAKURA).

 Sakura enters Akiho’s room and comments about how it has a similar layout to hers but that it doesn’t take much to tell it is her room. Of course one telltale sign is the bookshelf! She’s got a nice collection going on, and the cute moon shaped lamp on her nightstand certainly has some Kaito vibes (hehe). Akiho asks her if she really believes that, and Sakura explains that although they have a lot in common, she is still her own person. Akiho shares the sentiment and speaks on how unique Sakura is, which makes her blush a bit before her eyes draw to the watch. It looks less broken since the last time we saw it, which shows how hard Akiho has been working to fix it!

 We finally hear the story of how the watch came into her possession, and Akiho explains that she found this in their great grandfather’s house, but that he doesn’t know where it came from exactly. They had attempted to get it repaired at watch repair shops, but no one managed to ever get it working again. Despite this, Akiho has been working diligently to fix it herself because she can’t help but feel that it is very very important (indeeeeeed Akiho. Quite important!). In a way, this feels more symbolic than just repairing of a watch. This comes off to me as Akiho working to restore Kaito’s time in general. Right now, I think his time has stopped rather than moving forward, and fixing the watch will be like fixing Kaito (even if she isn’t aware of that herself).

 Sakura encourages her to keep working at it before she explains that she has something to tell her. The following panel seems to indicate some time has passed, and we flash forward to after Akiho has been told about her magic. Sakura is somewhat nervous after telling her, understandably so, but Akiho as expected completely accepts it and seems even excited about it as it feels like something out of a book. She goes on to say that it’s a good thing they are different despite being twins, and that even if she can’t use magic, she hopes that she can find something she’s good at to help her that Sakura cannot do. She then states “It’s what I can do…and what I can’t…that makes me who I am”. Not only were these words spoken by her real mother Lilie, but she is also saying it with the same kind expression and pose that her mother did when talking to Sakura in a dream.

This seems to stir Sakura a bit. She can’t remember the dream she had, but it does seem that this triggers a feeling in her that she has to look for something, particularly something magical. Akiho mentions she wouldn’t be to see it since she doesn’t have magic, but Sakura mentions that even she cannot see it. It seems she certainly senses it is there, but Akiho assists by telling a story she heard about hidden magic that only would appear when called by name. Through a discussion about magic and similarity to books, Sakura is triggered to think about books containing memories…a record, and this seems to be enough to summon the RECORD.

 This at least serves as confirmation that SOME of the Clear Cards still exist (at least RECORD does), and unsurprisingly, it has captured memories from the previous timeline. Sakura’s magic really never ceases to amaze me. But what is even more interesting about this is that it reveals a scene we had yet to see before. In this scene, Syaoran is giving her advice to use the RECORD card and having it essentially remain active due to the feeling they were having that someone was making them forget things (-cough- Kaito -cough-), and I can’t help but sit over here and be like “OMG, MY BABIES ARE SO SMART!!”. I’m so proud of them for thinking of this, and man is it coming in handy now.

 It turns out the RECORD card even managed to capture the moment Momo visited Suppi and Kero (which I haven’t forgotten about!!). Sakura is naturally pretty surprised to learn that 1. She was making new cards and doesn’t remember, and 2. Seeing Momo, who she does not recognize, talking directly to her in this recorded memory advising her of exactly what is going on.

 Momo introduces herself and states that she is the guardian of a ‘certain book’ (Alice in Clockland), but that she cannot stop the time rewind that she knows is going to happen (she was right that it was going to happen, but we were all wrong about the reason why. Hahaha). Momo had to be neutral despite her feelings and she could not tell Sakura or Akiho what was going on. Akiho is naturally surprised, because she doesn’t remember Momo in this timeline, but clearly she knows her name. Moreover, Momo mentions “The boy” (-cough- Kaito -cough-) and how he is definitely hiding something but will never breathe a word of it (she was definitely right about that one).

 It seems we have Momo to thank for Sakura getting this vision entirely as the RECORD card should have actually vanished with the time rewind, but thanks to the ring/crown Lilie gave Momo, she was able to cast a spell that allowed RECORD to stay intact without discovery from Kaito. Now, her statement here might make one believe that none of the cards exist if RECORD was only there due to the last spell with the ring, but she tells Sakura that there are other cards that haven’t disappeared and are waiting for her to call their names. I wonder which oooonnneesss?! I imagine REWIND is certainly one considering she hasn’t actually used it at all yet since its creation, and it must have some sort of purpose that we haven’t discovered yet (perhaps the ability to undo Kaito’s spell?).

 The RECORD card then turns into a crystal and enters Sakura’s body, bringing forth all the memories from the previous timeline. These memories bring Sakura to tears, which concerns Akiho, but she embraces her tightly and tells her that she “must bring back what they should never have lost”. It seems here that she is talking about Kaito, and the chapter ends there. What an intense ending!

 NOW ON TO CHAPTER 74!

 CAN I JUST SAY WHAT A BADASS SAKURA LOOKS LIKE IN THIS COLOR PAGE?! She looks ready to FIGHT, and I’m all for it. I love serious Sakura and can’t get enough of it. I absolutely love the outfit and the stars behind her. It’s all very lovely and definitely gives the vibes of the final battle we were all waiting for. She looks powerful in this image, and the colors in general are just absolutely gorgeous with the blues and reds mingling.

The chapter begins at Yukito’s house. Yukito is adorably feeding Nakuru what seems to be mandarin orange slices? Regardless, she seems awfully comfy under the warm kotatsu. Haha! Touya interrupts a bit to tell them that Sakura is on her way, and when asked if they should go to meet her so she does not walk alone in the dark, Touya affirms that she is fine because she is coming along with Syaoran, Akiho, and Tomoyo as well. This is of course surprising to the both of them, because it is unusual for Sakura to come this late along with the entire gang. Touya has a serious expression, meaning he knows that it is something indeed serious that she wishes to discuss.

The group arrives, and Sakura cuts right to the chase. She tells them that she has something “weird” to tell them (the understatement of the century) and specifies that she wants particularly everyone who knows about magic to hear what she has to say. She cues for Kero and Suppi to come out, and FINALLY Kero acknowledges that he doesn’t have to hide since Touya knows everything. Suppi asks the question literally all of us have been asking by shouting ‘WHY HAVE I BEEN PRETENDING TO BE A STUFFED ANIMAL THIS WHOLE TIME?!”. Hahahahaha. Not sure if CLAMP planned this conversation on purpose or if they realized they had a small plot hole to fill, but honestly….this is totally a Kero thing to do. Kero explains that he did this because Touya never really warmed up to him, and that maybe he didn’t know how truly awesome he actually was. I still don’t get this logic, but Kero’s never been the brightest to begin with. Lol. Touya explains he never called him out on it because he assumed Kero just liked pretending to be a plush, and honestly that seems logical from his perspective. Even Sakura states that she never understood why Kero kept up the act, and I just find this hilarious.

 Just when we thought the whole group was present and ready to hear what Sakura had to say, we get a video call with Eriol and Kaho! I’m so glad they get to be a part of the conversation too! This is the first time we’ve had all of them truly together talking at the same time, and I’m living for it! Sakura begins to tell them what happened, and we see a panel of the moon to show that some time has passed in the conversation before everyone reacts. Naturally, everyone is shocked, and Nakuru comments on who would even have the power to do such a thing.

 Eriol, our ever knowledgeable magical resource, explains that he is not aware of any living sorcerers who possess such a power, which means he has never become aware of Kaito’s existence in this timeline. However, he also mentions that if they have the book required to cast ‘the forbidden spell’, that’s another story. So despite Kaito not existing in this timeline, the book certainly still does. Sakura tells them that the ‘guardian of the book’ told her this and specifically tells Akiho that she had a stuffed bunny she loved very much named Momo who was the guardian’s other form. Akiho is surprised and states that ‘Momo’ is the title of a book she loves, which confirms the theories some fans had about Momo being named after the book ‘Momo’ by Michael Ende (remember the book about the girl who fights time traveling thiefs that Akiho told Kaito about in their first meeting? It’s that book). How cool!!

 Sakura takes Akiho’s hand and tells her that even though they are only twins due to their lives being rewritten, it doesn’t change the fact that Akiho is special to her. This warms the heart of everyone in the room, and Touya makes a comment about Sakura’s ‘sister-complex’, which Yukito teasingly refutes by pointing out his own sister-complex. Hahaha. Tomoyo, sweet as she always is, talks about what a beautiful big sister Sakura was and that Akiho made for a beautiful little sister.

 Sakura continues to explain that she doesn’t seem to remember everything, but that she knows there is someone out there who has been cut out of their current timeline. She can’t explain why she feels this way, but she can’t help but think this person is Akiho’s precious person. Seeing the RECORD card’s memories of Akiho without Kaito really gave me those Tsubasa vibes again (funny how that keeps happening) of the memories Sakura had without Syaoran. It’s really sad honestly…

 Akiho says that being a family member of the Kinomoto family made her happy, but that she felt something inside of her that hurts and like she was always searching for someone. I’m sure that she felt that when looking at the watch, and perhaps she thought that fixing it would give her clues. Sakura tells her that she thinks they are someone Akiho would have never wanted to lose, and that they are also the one who rewrote the world. And as a result, they have to take that person back.

 Kero asks how, which is a valid question indeed, considering they don’t know who this person is or where they have even gone. But Sakura’s instincts tell her that the watch Akiho has will help. We, of course, know she is right on the money with this one, but it’s interesting watching everyone react to the watch. Eriol and Kaho seem to recognize it immediately as an artifact used in time magic specifically, but note that only someone with tremendous abilities would be able to use it.

 It’s at this point that Akiho seems concerned about Sakura’s safety, and she expresses that she doesn’t want her to do anything that would put her in harm’s way. But Sakura counters this by telling her that she’s not being forced in any way, and that she was able to get through all the difficult challenges she’s had to this point because she had so many people who cared about her and supported her. And because of that, she wants to do the same for the people she cares about.

 Tomoyo takes the chance to pull out the bag with the new outfits she’s made and mentions how she could have sworn she made some before, but when she looked, they were all gone (likely due to the time rewind). But while making the sleeves of this one particularly, she had a thought that these outfits in particular were going to be special. I like how CLAMP calls out the sleeves here, because I believe it’s meant to call attention to the fact that this is the outfit sleeve Sakura saw in her dream where she asked the Cloaked Figure when they would meet, and it was when she had that outfit that she would. That is out signal that this is truly the final battle! Whooo! Another thing to note is that the panel showing Tomoyo sewing looks very familiar to the REPAIR card version in Clockland 

Sakura shows her appreciation and also tells Tomoyo she’ll take care not to damage them, but that if she does, Tomoyo will be there to fix it. I like this call back to the REPAIR card conversation where Tomoyo asked she allow her to repair the clothes instead. 

 Touya finally chimes in after being silent for quite a while and insists Sakura don’t stay out past curfew. Sakura is confused because she’s never actually had a curfew, but Touya elaborates by stating that her ‘curfew’ is getting home before their dad starts to worry, and that’s how it’s always worked. Hahaha. I find this page both funny and adorable at the same time.

 Nakuru starts asking who is going to be going and is eager to be chosen as part of the ‘party’. Hahahaha. She speaks as if she is being picked to play a game, and even Suppi comments on it with the same thoughts, pointing out that this is real life and not a video game. Lol. Sakura declines though to bring anyone but Syaoran with her. She wishes she could, but her instincts once again are telling her that because they are looking for Akiho’s special person that she needs to bring hers as well. This is super duper sweet, but I think this is also CLAMP’s way of telling us that Syaoran will have an important role to play here. I know I have said many times that I feel like Kaito and Syaoran have some sort of connection, but I feel like this kinda adds even more to that thought. I can’t wait to see what happens!

 Eriol agrees that she should follow her instincts, but Sakura lets everyone know that if she realizes she does need them, that she may call for them. Sakura takes Akiho’s hands and also tells her that there will be a time when she will need her to do something only she can do, and that she must stay with the others until that time. I imagine it will be Akiho’s voice that becomes important here. Kaito hearing Akiho’s words and calling for him I think will be vital to bringing him back.

 In the next page, Yukito and Touya are talking outside, and Yuki is teasing him for his reaction to Sakura calling Syaoran her favorite person. Hahahahaha. Touya is a little jealous, and even though he didn’t express that outwardly, Yukito of course would be able to notice it. He also asks if Touya already knew about the world being rewritten, and he says that he did not know specifically what had happened, but felt something was off and that it was related to Sakura somehow. He had also been out of the house more often, because he knew it would hurt Akiho to learn the truth about her life. He gets a rather deadly looking expression on his face and says “No one hurts my family and gets away with it”, which really reminds me of his conversation with Kaito back at the botanical garden. It seems he still has that sentiment deep down and also views Akiho still as family even though he knows now that she is not actually his sister.

 The last page shows Sakura and Syaoran in their new battle costumes, and OMGGGG THEY LOOK SO GOOOOOODDDDDD. This definitely screams final battle, and I CANNOT WAAAIIITTTTT.

 That’s all I’ve got for now. Now I can go read the new chapter and start on that analysis! Hahahaha. Thank you again for all your patience and support!

#cardcaptor sakura #clear card #manga #chapter 73 #chapter 74 #chrissy talks a lot #syaoran #sakura #tomoyo #akiho #kero #suppi #touya #nakuru #yukito #eriol #kaho #spoilers #analysis

[5ivebyfive]

Chapter 12: I keep reading comments about them being both toxic, but I don't think Trini is. I think she just caught feelings very quickly (first in lust, then in love) and she was blinded by that. Even Kim just doesn't know any better. Thoughts?

Ahhh yes. Hm. Okay. I will talk about this, I apologize if it gets long. I have lots of thoughts.

I don't think Trini is toxic either. I think the extremes of their relationship can be, but mainly the toxicity comes from Kim. And she isn't inherently toxic. She's...extremely stunted and makes up for it with bullshit and protecting herself. Yes, her behavior is wrong. She should know better. She should act better. She doesn't get to get away with it just because. (And Trini doesn't let her.) But she doesn't know better. Now, this isn't an essay on Kim...so I'll digress, but no, I don't find Trini toxic.

Trini can get down and dirty and be mean, too. She can fight for herself. Trini has always been quick to fight and defend herself (in canon). This is why in canon and every AU I see them as a pair that bickers. Because they're both stubborn women. But Trini...she actually sees Kim. Maybe she doesn't always understand her, but she sees her. She sees things in Kim that Kim doesn't realize she's showing her. She sees parts of Kim that no one else does, because she takes the time to look. Because Kim's behavior doesn't always scare her off or disgust her as it does so many other people. Maybe she lets Kim get away with more she than she should, but it's because she's starting to understand things about Kim. Her act, her bravado...and she cares about her despite it all. It's why, after Kim's behavior in chapter 11, Trini is still broken up about it all. She sees more to her than that.

When Trini is cruel to Kim, it's because she's at the end of her rope. She tries exceptionally hard to tiptoe around Kim when need be, and fight her off when need be. I'm trying to think of something toxic she may have done to explain her thoughts on, but I can't right now. Maybe leaving Kim "hanging" in revenge of Kim trying to make her jealous with that other woman? Yeah, that was cold. But it was a message Kim received. What's a better way to get to Kim, this Kim, than to deny her an orgasm when she is clearly having issues getting one any other way?

Trini doesn't keep a lot of people in her life. Close. She spent a lot longer lost and alone than she did in canon, because she didn't meet the others. She had Billy, but once she moved away from him as kids, she retreated back into her shell. She had some friends, she had some girls, but mostly she was on her own. It was the same through college and after. She's not close to her parents, and she lives far from her brothers. Currently, her people are Kim, Tommy, and Billy. And Tommy...well, Trini is used to not sharing her life, and Tommy is still a newer friend, so she can't share Kim with her. So it feels kinda lonely. And Billy is her favorite person on earth, but he lives far away, too. So she has Kim, mainly. And yeah, having your whole life basically be around one person can be toxic-ish...it's not in her eyes. She doesn't need much else. She has her best friend, her partner, and Kim. She's got it all covered. So losing herself in Kim doesn't feel like...a toxic co-dependent thing. Sure, it's hard and empty at times, but not toxic.

And the thing is, she knows that things with Kim can be toxic. She gets that. But to her, all the difficult things with Kim weigh far less than the good and positive things. Like Kim smiling happily at her, or Kim asking to be kissed while they have sex, or Kim -- who never does anything for anyone and cannot cook -- trying to cook for her when she's injured. Just because Kim knows that Trini doesn't like her junk food.

I don't know. People can see into this relationship and these characters how they see them, but...I can only show so much at a time. I can't jump through Kim's feelings before she's ready to show them. I can't make Trini leave Kim before she's ready to leave. All I can do is show small moments between them that might hint at what they are at their core, and what they can be in the future.

Does this help?

Sorry it got so long.

#shut up and drive tag #rose does asks #suad!trini profiled

[ameliawarnerr]

Evanescent Sequel

Chapter 4 (Part 1)

Previous Chapter: here

Jake

It has been twenty minutes since I started to drive home. Even though I don’t like talking nonsense I cannot deny the fact that I enjoyed the last twenty minutes of nonsense we talked about. And somewhere between that nonsense she fell asleep. The little glances I am stealing from her face are making me drive slower than ever. She might get a good nap till we reach home. 

Things have changed between us— we have changed individually. We are no longer young idiots who let their emotions get the best of them or careless enough to fall in love with strangers. People learn from mistakes is something I have spent my whole life hearing but it makes sense to me only now. To think about it now, our timing had been wrong. The desperation to be with each other was overwhelming in an extremely early stage of our relationship due to which we both ended up getting hurt. It sounded romantic then. Now it smells like the past. She understands it as much as I do. 

What she said about us being the endgame still gives me an unexplainable feeling in my stomach. 

And that's when I decide to stop. 

I try to feed myself the truth— she came to me for help not because she shared the same issue as me. The issue of not being able to get over her. She was pretending to be with Alex for her father's sake. Perhaps due to that lie she didn't get the chance to meet men better than me. She’ll be free from that lie soon and I do not have the confidence to claim that she’ll still choose me. 

That's when I focus on driving rather than her face. 

When we reach the parking lot of my apartment, I sigh. I am met with two choices— the number one being me waking her up and ruining her sleep and the second one is hardly any better- carry her myself. 

I cannot believe I am getting this troubled over it but I truly do not wish to ruin her sleep. I know it feels to get up when you are sleeping so peacefully. And my overthinking is unstoppable. What if she hasn't slept well in days because she was worried about her sister? What if she can't sleep once I wake her up? 

I decide to text Garrett. Not Lucas, of course. He’ll give me the worst advice, I am sure, like sleeping in the car myself and when she wakes up again, explaining to her the trouble I was having so she'll think I am a gentleman. 

I furrow my brows as I realise that Lucas' mindset is slowly sliding into my mind.

Jake: What do you do when you have a girl sleeping in your passenger's seat? 

Jake: a) wake her up and ruin her sleep

Jake: b) carry her yourself 

Garrett: Well, it depends on the status of your relationship. Is she just a friend? A. Is she more than a friend? B, def. 

I send a quick text back. 

Jake: How do you decide the status? 

Garrett: Are you kidding me…

Garrett: Do b and her reaction will tell you the status. 

I sigh, keeping my phone back. That was an informative conversation. 

I get out of the car and open the door to the passenger's seat. That's when I realise another problem- she's wearing a dress. I open the back door of the car and grab a blanket. As I cover her leg to avoid any sort of malfunctioning, she moves in her sleep turning her head towards mine. If she opens her eyes now, she'll freak out because of the closeness. The softness of her skin reminds me of every time I’ve touched her. 

Minutes pass by and I am unable to move. My eyes are glued to her face and memories are flowing. Our time in Duskwood was both mesmerising and terrifying. I haven't allowed myself to visit those moments but I can't help it now. Can’t deny how— 

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I hesitantly pull away from her. I check the phone. 

Garrett: We need you. The kidnapper sent a new video to the client. 

The fact that I’ve been desperately waiting for this update and now it appears to be a burden is concerning. But I am not ready to lose my disciplined self yet. I’ve done it once. I want to be careful this time. 

I lift her up with one hand under the back of thighs and the other supporting her neck. She sleeps like dead that I am certain of. So there's no worry of her waking up. I only need to keep my movements limited and stiff. 

In the elevator, she snuggles into my chest and her vanilla smells messes with my self-control. 

I try to focus on the case in my hands but my thoughts always come to one dead end- her in my arms. 

I still cannot believe we met yesterday after one year and I have her in my arms right now. 

The elevator stops.

In between the sixth and seventh floor. 

I rush towards the buttons and manage to press a few with my hand which is under her neck. Nothing works. 

I can't even use my phone with her in my arms and letting her lie on the floor in an uncomfortable position is a big no. 

That's it.

We’re stuck. 

___________________

Yes there will be a part 2 of chapter 4!

And idk about you guys but I absolutely love that Jake can rely on his friends and trusts them without thinking twice. Yes it's the same man who had EXTREME trust issues.

Your replies are like fuel so.....do comment!

Thanks for reading!

Love ya

;)

#duskwood #writing #duskwood fandom #duskwood fanfic #duskwood fanfiction #jake_duskwood #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #dan duskwood #jessy_duskwood #jake duskwood #duskwood jake #mc x jake #fanfic writers #fanfic community #fanfiction #fanfic

[cosmic-cd]

i post about hazel a lot but

i think my fursona RGB is like. such a winner because specifically she is both a blorbo and also "ohhhh my god she's so me"

id been struggling on settling on a fursona for so long before i hit upon RGB- who wasn't even initially??? supposed to be my fursona????? at all?????????

just a random protogen design that like, ended up sticking

for years after the fact. and now i have a 3D model of her steadily in the works and plushie of her that is like, half as big as me

what is wrong with her. i love her so much. if i didnt spend so much money on the plush i'd pour milk on her and throw her at a wall. (i wont though)

and well like, i think the secret of her lasting so long is i finally figured out the ideal blend of fictional character to oh that's just straight up me TM

my first two fursonas kinda flopped and ended up as OCs because they were too distant from me- karra's really serious at this point and has siblings (i'm an only child) and while comet's actually not too far off from RGB personality-wise, she's also developed as a character in away (again with siblings, i don't have any) that differs too much from me- but i value them both as OCs, so this isn't a loss by any measure

then came nova, who doesn't really look or act like me, but i thought at the time that if i adamantly didn't give her any backstory, she'd stick. and she did stick for a while! but for varying reasons, i ended up dropping her (but i might give her a lite redesign sometime- keep her as an OC or little mascot either way) and in hindsight- she never really felt like me, even if i liked her

there was a time before nova and after nova where i didn't have a fursona- i had hazel off and on in varying forms as a representation of me, but she was only made official a little before nova was a thing- and while hazel is solid "oh yeah that's me babey" department, and i have Fursona Edition Hazel, she doesn't really cover the base of "having a fursona" for me

does that make sense???? i cannot explain to you why i need so many fursonas. it's so hard to explain but hazel and RGB fulfill two separate ecological niches.

i had some misc fursonas that lasted maybe a year at maximum, but usually like. a few months, spread over the course of a few years before RGB came about

RGB wasn't even immediate. it was kind of a slow roll of a headworld kinda failing to make any traction, my previous fursona at the time not really sticking but me having cool ideas on having an interdimensional traveler on purpose OC- i kept designing and accumulating characters that i wanted to use but had no use for

and then RGB suddenly clicked with me, i settled on the DIMENSION/CROSS concept, and i've been chipping away at developing it through just. thinking really hard about my guys & roleplaying with them. (the delight of having OCs that can visit friends' OCs any time they want for any reason)

and i keep waiting to fall out of love with her but it just.

hasn't happened yet!

i actually came close because some part of me feels like RGB's design isn't actually that great and got worried she's just kind of a visual mess. but i dunno, some really kickass art i've received made me feel better. i started drawing her consistently the way i want too, so i feel like. a lot more solidified in loving her and enjoying her as a character!!!

it's weird, because RGB has a lot of story. backstory, even. distinct from me as a person. she's a lot more boisterous and loud and irresponsible. dare i say cool when she's not being a little stupid. but, a lot of that's a veneer- that's what she wants you to see. inside, when all that's stripped away, she's still just me. she's the 8ft tall space captain on a road trip with her friends that i wish i could be! but despite that, ive never felt closer to any character i've ever come up with before and that makes me really happy

she is SO fun to write. she has like, so much emotional baggage she's running away from because she doesn't want to be compared to hazel (who is soggy and miserable and 🥺 and a nerd) but we all know they are the same.

tl;dr i love my fursona. she's a loser. this post is really long.

#cosmo rambles

[ayesakara]

Why Shizuo & Vorona make all the sense in Durarara

Very long Shizuo/Vorona commentary (with spoilers from anime, manga and light novels) below:

After finishing and falling in love with Durarara!! the anime, I’ve now started reading both the Manga and the light novels. And the more I read them, the more I appreciate how much the idea of Shizuo and Vorona together makes the most sense after the series finale.

But first, let’s go back to season 1 and compare the demon sword Saika's “love” for humanity and the concept of love in general in this story.

In season 1 episode 16 “Mutual Love” of the anime, (which corresponds with Durarara!! Saika Arc in the Manga/Vol 2 Chap 6 “Sword & Stress,” in the Light novels) – in order for the Saika blades to work on its victims, there had to be an element of fear.

Saika considers slashing and possessing humans as the way to propagate and to love humanity.

It is explained (much better in the LN and Manga than the anime) that the blades’ possession worked through the will of the wielder, as well as the victim, since the knives being used were not the original Saika. For the blade to possess, the victim had to feel fear after getting slashed.

So even though we watch Shizuo get slashed several times, aside from the fact that his muscles are very tightly formed (as explained by Shinra in this chapter) and he doesn’t get injured like a normal human, Saika realizes that he also had zero fear of these people. Saika’s will needed the element of fear in its victims to take possession. Since Shizuo has no fear, he cannot be possessed.

This is also used as an analogy for love in this story, especially when it comes to Shizuo.

You need to allow yourself to be vulnerable to the person giving you “love” in order to love them in return. If you don’t “fear” the pain of the blade, as Saika realizes – or in other words… if you don’t let yourself be vulnerable emotionally, you cannot truly love someone. And then that person also cannot love you.

Love needs vulnerability. If you keep your heart closed off, you cannot love.

Shizuo’s greatest fear is his own strength. He thinks of himself as a monster, undeserving of love – has thought this way since he was a kid. When he was a young adolescent – and the Manga images show a young brown-haired Shizuo, so this is prior to him meeting Tom in middle school and dyeing his hair blond – he accidentally (“not of his volition,” the Manga and LN state) got girls who liked him (who could be just friends, since he’s so young here) hurt because of his strength. These incidents made him withdraw from people.

In his heart, Shizuo has always longed for someone to love him. But because he deems himself so dangerous, now as a young adult, he doesn’t think he is allowed to be close to anyone like that.

He feels he would only hurt the person he loves because of his violent nature. So he has closed off his heart.

Enter Vorona. The girl who’s never known or understood love. All she has in the beginning is the goal to test her abilities against the strongest opponents.

And who would she come directly against? The strongest man in Ikebukuro, the peak of human strength.

And she's unlike any girl Shizuo has ever met. She's a fighter, and he's utterly impressed with her abilities.

Vorona wants to defeat him at first because that had always been her aim: to understand human strength; to be strong, and to conquer the strongest. Instead, she finds peace in his presence. Outside of battle and the various conflicts that slam into him from every side, Shizuo is surprisingly very serene. Vorona realizes he seeks peace, too. The same peace that had eluded her all her life. And she’s surprised how much she enjoys the feeling – calls it bliss even. This is the first time that she’s gotten a taste of a life free of violence.

And she’s mournful when her cover is blown because now that Shizuo knows she betrayed him, she feels she’s never gonna get this feeling back. She’s all alone.

It’s heartbreaking but also beautiful when, in the anime, every time she ponders the concept of “love,” and thinks of her loneliness, and of losing the peace she had so enjoyed, the image she sees in her mind is of Shizuo.

There is a moment in the light novels, after Izaya drops the forklift/excavator on Shizuo and Vorona, intending to kill them (or rather, to kill Vorona and to see how Shizuo would react) and Shizuo pushes the falling machinery away with just his shoulder, when Vorona realizes that Shizuo is actually superhuman. She already knew that he was the peak of human strength, but this is the moment when the realization dawns on her that he isn’t just the peak, but actually beyond it. That he’s superhuman strong, and she is awed.

She knows then that her goal to defeat him had been ridiculous.

She also realizes that he’s very conscious of his inhuman strength and that he thinks of himself as monstrous because of this. But she knows he’s not a monster. She’s shocked how reasonable and forgiving he is, how willing to give her a second chance; he offers her his ear, is protective of her even when she’s playing on the wrong side. Deep inside her heart, Vorona has always known he was utterly human, and now she doesn’t want to hurt him or see him get hurt.

That’s why she is so compelled to save him from becoming a murderer, when she stops him from killing Izaya in the end and is ready to kill him for Shizuo. She already is a murderer, a beast as she calls herself, and she doesn’t want Shizuo to become one and be condemned too.

This is what Shizuo knows and feels in his heart when, at the end of the LN, he says that he’s able to act and be like a person (a human, that is) because of her. That she’s the reason why he didn’t turn into a true monster. This is why he’s so grateful to her.

She tells him when she leaves for Russia that her desire is to come back and “speak to him in direct terms (since he offered to listen more than once) … to experience the joy of existing in this world.” With him, she means.

Denis tells him she will likely come back. Simon tells him he already is human. All he needs to do is open his heart to the possibility.

This is where the anime left them. This is why I feel so happy in my heart when I imagine scenarios where Vorona does come back and Shizuo and her do get together. 🤗

#shizuo x vorona #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #vorona #fanfic #writing #shizuo/vorona #drrr shizuo #shizuo #vorona drrr #shizuo drrr #drrr vorona #shizuo and vorona make all the sense #shizuo heiwajima x vorona #shizuo vorona #character commentary