#(Having light skin is the most important thing isn't it?) she said

[runawaycarouselhorse]

Once upon a time I found May embarrassing because I was naive and clumsy and suffered a lot from my naivete, so I hated seeing folks online call naivete not a real flaw/just being "too nice"... but I was always very defensive of her figure and hated those who believed she must be much older just because she has an hourglass shape as a preteen. I was the same way and just a year or two older than her when I joined the fandom and AG was airing.

Anyway, I love her and feel proud of her growth in DP.

My favourite Pokemon characters are mostly characters who everyone else hates, though. ^^;;

Oops... I love Jessie and Iris and Trip... I love tomboyish and tough girls as well as foppish and sensitive boys (so, Wishfulshipping and Rocketshipping are everything--throw in a class difference and I love the ship even more!), lonely rich kids whose parents are never around make up a bunch of my favourites too (Marielle, Diana Konderick/Fanny Fox, Lillie...), proud and aristocratic young ladies but who are nonetheless very kind at heart despite eccentricities and treasure their friends (Lillie, Marielle, Victorique de Blois, and Shinku)... so many characters with abandonment and/or mommy issues (Lillie, Soma Yuki, Soma Momiji, Hina-Ichigo, and Jessie to a degree too, although she hides it ^^;).

Characters that struggle to connect with others, or even act ornery or cold, to avoid being hurt--often isolated, ostracized, bullied, or simply house-bound (Iris, Victorique de Blois, Marielle)... or literally just characters that either come off as arrogant due to extreme shyness and avoidance of others, or who genuinely hide behind a projected false image of confidence to hide genuine insecurities (hi, Trip.)

its unreal how all of my favorite characters have exactly the same traits and hobbies and diagnoses as me

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Praise. A sprinkle of sensory deprivation. Possessive behavior. College AU

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx cause they linked me to this playlist that had random voice lines of Scara speaking in the middle of song and it distracted me so many times. They watched my struggle on chat lol. Song choice is ET by Katy Perry.

Scaramouche had no idea if you could feel his glare piercing into you. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you work.

Your hair was in those long loose pony tails you divided your hair into sometimes. He especially loved to pull on them, especially if he wanted a kiss or something more.

He could smell that you'd changed your perfume to the scent you wore in the winter months. He thought the light pink color of the perfume in the bottle didn't suit you the first time he had sprayed it on his wrist so he could smell you. He doubted you knew he'd first done that while you were taking some new first years out on a trail ride. But the scent, the scent suites you well, he thought. Scaramouche was positive winter had a scent, it would smell like your perfume.

Then let the world be sentenced a lifetime of frost and snow.

Scaramouche heard you hum softly to yourself, some song you'd heard on the radio earlier.

He'd had enough. How dare you make noises that weren't being caused by his touch. How dare you smell so good.

But most of all, how dare you act so composed with your precious concentration unfazed, not focused on him, especially now that you were alone with him. Scaramouche knew he could snap your concentration like a twig underneath his feet. Even better that you were focused on something horse related. It was the extra cherry on top for him.

I mean, it must be so exhausting, concentrating so hard when you were around horses. One wrong move and things could go badly in an instant. All it would take was a single loud noise.

Scaramouche smacked a hand down on his desk next to your hand. He got a sigh but nothing more than that. He'd made corner of the paper flutter a little. He reached up and tugged on one of your ponytails, curling the end around his fingers. His eyes widened when he saw goosebumps prickle onto your skin.

Time to push a bit more.

He tucked a some stray strands of hair that had fallen loose from your ponytails behind your ear. "This isn't important to you anymore," he murmured, husky in your ear.

You shivered when you felt his breath lick at your ear. You stiffened. "I need to get this done, Scara. I told her that I would help her with this new horse," you said, doing your best to ignore him.

Scaramouche took the pencil out of your hand, snapping it in two, his black nails contrasting with the wood. "No, you don't. You said yourself that they aren't a good match. She is too *green and the horse is too young. She can barely saddle him without crying to you for help. Don't coddle her. She probably thinks she is your equal."

He laughed, sounding like honey in your ears. "Look at me, the nerdy horse girl is making me use terms I don't understand. I'm just as pathetic as you are."

You flicked the pieces of the pencil across his desk, brushing off the paper filled with notes and tips. "Takes someone green to know someone green, Scara," you replied.

His eyebrow twitched.

"I don't think you heard me, slut. I believe I made myself clear that you are finished helping her. It is not your job to look after them. Especially not when I want your attention instead," he snapped, yanking on one of your ponytails. "These are my rabbits feet to tug on as I please. You were wearing your hair like this when we first met."

"As their Captain, it is my job," you said firmly. You needed to have a firm hand to handle Scaramouche. He loved that about you. Usually everyone was afraid to talk back to him. But not you. "Five minutes, okay?"

Scaramouche's fingers brushed against your throat, hovering a hand over your eyes. "Those five minutes have already passed," his hand dipped down into your shirt, groping one of your breasts.

You would focus on him like he wanted.

"I can hear your heart starting to pound. You are frantically trying to figure out where my hand is going to go next. I wish I could see the look on your face," he pinch your nipple outside of your bra, his mouth watering when he pulled your first sigh of pleasure.

Time to stop on your concentration and composure and grind it into dust.

Scaramouche's hand left your bra to trace his fingers along the length of your neck, dipping into your shoulders and down your arm. "Your body is begging for my touch. And your mouth certainly doesn't lie either. You are starting to moan whether you can hear yourself or not." Unbuttoning your pants, he probed his fingers against your clit, making a damp patch form. "It doesn't take much to wind you up. You are already wet for me."

You moved one of your legs so that your knee rested against the side of his desk. "You are making it hard to concentrate.." you trailed off, grinding up into his fingers.

Now he had you right where he wanted. Time to make you squirm a little. Dent your pride and make you submit completely. "Admit it, say you would rather ride me instead and I may grant you the privilege even though you back talked me."

"You are impossible..ahhh.." his fingers dipped into your panties and between your folds. The sensation was heightened from lack of sight.

"You want my fingers, don't you. Just say it, your time belongs to me first and foremost. I don't give just any whore my time and attention. Only you have that honor," he rubbed the pads of his fingers against your clit, teasing his fingers at your entrance.

You choke back a whine, pressing your thighs together for my friction. You hated that he made you feel so weak so fast. Maybe some part of you wanted to act undignified, that you were tired of always conducting yourself with a straight posture and a polite tone.

"What, no comeback for me. If that's how it's gonna be then," Scaramouche paused in thought for a moment. Taking his fingers off of your pussy earned the sweetest sound of desperation. He pushed two fingers into your mouth, pressing down in your tongue so he pump his fingers in your mouth. He laughed again, making you moan as you sucked on his fingers.

"You always suck on my fingers like you suck on my cock. Your mouth looks the prettiest wrapped around it. Now say it, kitten. Say you want me and I'll gladly let your slutty mouth go to work." Scaramouche removed his fingers, tugging the your hair ties out your hair. "I'll need all of your hair to fuck your throat. Now use your words."

You couldn't offer him a response as he pulled you the your hair to your feet. Instead, you showed him by sinking to your knees.

*green means a beginner.

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 9: Desire

Summary:

You spent some quality time with the girls, then you decide to finally make a move on Miranda. Things definitely don't go as planned.

The constant, aching pain throbs sharply in the back of your head, threatening to break your skull. It gets worse by the minute, or more suitable to say the second, as the feeling is compared to millions of tiny needles burning inside your brain.

The headache that has been bothering you all morning is not caused by the wine from yesterday, by all means. You've had drunken mornings much worse than the current and you're sure that such pain is born by something completely different. Or someone. 

You groan weakly , smashing your palms in the heated skin of your face , cheeks still burning from embarrassment. Your back hit the mattress beneath you while your eyes stare at the sealing, from behind the barns that you call fingers, which limite the space for a complete view. 

You're devoid of desire to see , hear or interact with anything at all. As there's only one thing possessing your mind currently. You don't understand it , she's been almost insignificant for you until now, so why can't you get Miranda out of your head? 

She's alluringly beautiful, of course. She's gentle and kind, only sometimes, in her own twisted ways. She might be the most interesting yet mysterious woman you've ever met. And despite Miranda clearly having something against you, since her rude behaviour continues to shine through her fake  smiles during the days , which you find out to not bother you as much as it did before, she can actually show sympathy. She cares , that she cannot hide. 

However, is that everything that makes you this... obsessed  with her? You don't think so , the attraction you feel towards her is something much bigger and important , coming from somewhere deep inside Miranda . As if your feet are buried in the ground while your souls are tied together. Chained, that is. Because you can't say that connection is entirely based on free will. 

You can't help but wonder how she feels. It's true she's not completely indifferent to you in the matter either. But you can only wish to understand her. Everytime you find yourself alone with her she just makes you more and more confused. However she did kiss you, with little to no hesitation. Such an act could...possibly  mean something, right? 

You bite your lower lip , curling up to side on your bed in the meantime. You tightly hug your pillow, still lost in thoughts about the older woman. You're still very much questioning yourself, yet one thing is certain. You like her.  And with a little bit of luck , the universe might decide to grand you a wish and make her like you too. Judging by her odd behaviour towards you, the desired star gift is already sent. 

Or...Miranda is just used to wandering around, trying to flirt with everybody around her. You shake your head. It doesn't sound like her at all. She's definitely fond of you, in what way exactly is yet left to be discovered. 

Your phone screen lights up, triggered by a new notification, just as you were about to grab it , determined to text Miranda and ask her if she's willing to go out with you, on a date , perhaps...

However your mouth swings open as you observe your phone more closely. And you quickly understand that you've been too late , because it is Miranda who is texting you. You've never unlocked your phone this fast. A part of you stays disappointed when you see that she hasn't said anything,  instead a picture file pops up in your new messages. 

Miranda isn't home. You note that first, because the background of the picture doesn't match with any room decor in the mansion. Yet , it's not the white flooring and silver desk , covered in documents which peak from its edges,  that thrills you. 

Snow colored shirt covers her chest way too nicely, few top buttons are purposely open , in order to slightly show the beginning base of her breasts, however for you It's different - since she has taken the picture in an  upper angle, the access you're granted is much larger and you can actually see the edges of her dark bra , that veils over her fair skin. 

Your eyes dare to linger lower and you do not regret it. The tight, tarred , short lengthed skirt she's wearing embraces her thighs with perfection, and with the way she has pressed them together you're given a good reminder of how gorgeous the curves of her body can be. Her legs below her skirt, covered in long, black stockings, definitely don't help you out neither.

The last thing you manage to take a glance in that photo is her pointy heels which peak from the bottom of the image, adding to her whole outfit , before shutting off your phone and slamming it into the pillow next to you. 

You hide your face in your palms yet again, breathing sharply in and out , unable to process the picture fully, to process her. You grab your phone after a few seconds of thinking, opening the chat immediately, glaring at her status. She's still online, she's waiting for your response. You curse while sitting up, your mess of a hair falling around your shoulders as you cross your legs on the bed. 

Your imagination is already picturing her grinning like a vicious witch while calmly sitting on her office desk , with her fingers briefly refreshing the chat , eager to witness  your reaction. You roll your shoulders back , cracking your back in the process, then your thumbs begin to unsurely type an answer. 

I think you're sending this to the wrong person. 

Miranda knows you've seen the hidden chats with Mia, and her provocatively alluring pictures. Though you didn't expect to receive one as well , you're not complaining, however you're sure she's doing it in order to punish you again, in some sort. The last thing you're going to do is fall for her tricks. Her response is quick to arrive. 

Am i , darling? I'm sure i checked twice if it's you who's receiving this. 

She almost makes you question the purpose of the picture, almost. You stop yourself right before you can  type 'Why?' . That's probably what she wants you to ask , so instead of doing her bidding you stop to think for a moment. Then you send your reply. 

Maybe try a third time next time , Miranda?

Her answer is a little bit delayed. Good , you've managed to get her thinking carefully before texting you again. Now you're both at the same level. You can't help the urging smile that appears on your lips. You're hoping she's smiling too, you'd hate to bring her mood down. 

Maybe. Or perhaps i should think more wisely before deciding to honour you for being so good for me yesterday. I could have given you something much worse instead of that nice treatment. 

You gag out a laugh after reading the last words of her finished sentence. Truly it wasn't the worst experience in your life but it was definitely humiliating. 'Nice treatment' isn't a word you would use to describe last night's events. Miranda is the last person you wanted to see you in such state. Yet the past is unfixable. 

I'm a grown woman , i can take a punishment. 

Your thumbs ghost over the screen, patiently waiting for her reply. You tug a piece of hair behind your ear just as her next message pops up. 

I'm not keen on that matter. Punishments, that is. 

So last night was for her entertainment only? You don't have enough time to think about it because she adds another sentence to her previous one. 

Perhaps a video shall do it for you, darling? 

You blink once, then twice. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the pillow. Is it possible for the effect of the alcohol to appear on her hours after she has consumed it? Because there's no way she's texting you this sober. Just thinking about Miranda returning the favour from yesterday is enough to sent thrilling shivers down your spine. You'd love to see that and you're even more excited knowing that she's the one asking, meaning she'd probably do it. 

Yet you behave yourself, an inner voice in your head telling you it's completely wrong. Even your thumbs feel disappointed with your response. 

I'm pretty sure both of us have much more important things to do right now. 

She quickly begins to type a reply but she hesitates and for a good two minutes you're left to wonder what exactly she's going to do next. Then you have it. 

Pity. I'm in a good mood. 

In an excellent mood you might add. However, before you can say anything back to her , she goes offline and you throw your phone back on the mattress, determined to ignore any further notifications from her , for now. 

Then your attention shifts to the footsteps caused by tiny legs in the corridor outside of your room. You stretch out with a yawn, your headache  long forgetting,ready to take care of the girls for the day while Miranda is away.  

And in the meantime to carefully think of your next approach to the older woman and the conversations you wish to have with her. 

***** 

As always, the breakfast awaits both you and the girls on the table. Your job is only to reheat it before Eveline and Eva can come downstairs. Just as you wait for the microwave to stop it's countdown, you hear almost silent steps behind you. 

You've spent enough time in the mansion to know that every resident here likes to sneak up on you and do their best to scare you. That worked, you'll give them that, for a while. But now you're absolutely used to it , you're even sure you can also try to return the favour if you desired to.  One of the girls is trying to sneak up on you, but a question remains. Which one? 

A squeaky noise echoes through the room, making you smile. Wrong step , wrong plank in the parquet. Eva and Miranda move flawlessly along the floor everytime they walk around you , as if they are floating over it. But Eveline is a bit more careless , though she tries her best. 

You swiftly turn around, ready to suprise her. Your smile fades in confusion while you observe the emptiness in front of you. Eveline is not there. One single tug on your sleeve makes every hair on your body stands up. Your heart begins to race , as the sudden rush of shock tenses your body. 

The black haired girl's laugh hits your ears before you can spot her next to the kitchen counter on your left. You also smile ,  though your hand dashes towards your chest, in attempt to calm your heart. 

"Got me" - you gag out a laugh, running your fingers tightly around your throat - "unfairly, but you got me." 

"You're just easy to scare" - Eveline explains , while taking her usual seat on the left side of the table, she gives you a thankful smile when you put her plate in front of her, as she takes her first bite she murmurs - "Predictable..." 

You roll your eyes. Truth is , you've grown very close to the little girl. In fact, at the current state of the mansion, she seems like the most trustable person you can talk to. That doesn't stop her from being sassy from time to time. 

"Where's Eva?" - you ask, ignoring her previous sentence. They usually come down together, or shortly after the other does. But it's been a good five minutes without the blonde girl making her way downstairs. 

"Oh, don't wait for her" - Eveline advises you, so you nod your head and sit down on the table next to her , still carefully placing utensils for Eva too - "one of her... butterfly pets died, so now she has to mourn it. It will take her a while." 

"Is she going to be okay?" - you don't understand her connection with the butterflies very well but you respect her interest and love for them. And it bothers you when the little girl is grumpy. 

"They die all the time. She's used to it" - her sister reassures you - "another butterfly will reincarnated soon, it will make her forget the death of the previous one. Just let her do her stuff , she'll join us when she's done."

You nod your head to show her you understand. As you begin to feed yourself as well ,though, the idea of asking Miranda on a date pops up in your head yet again. You're certain you need to know more about her in order to make the time you're about to spend with her enjoyable. And with her out of the house, Eveline is your second best option to get that information. 

"In that case" - you interrupt the few minutes of silence that happened to materialise between you, making the girl look up to you - "Can i ask you a few questions?" 

"Sure." - the girl seems happy to give you answers. You count that as a victory, a little step closer to knowing Miranda better - "What for?" 

"It's Miranda" - it's not only her name but the way it rolls off your tongue that requests more serious discussion. You nervously bite the inside of your cheek while careful observing the shock, which runs through Eveline's face , as if that topic is the last thing she expected. 

"Mother? What about mother?" - she asks in genuine confusion, hands placed around her now empty plate. You also shove yours to the side , as your appetite disappears. 

"Can you keep a secret?" - you whisper, leaning closer to the black haired girl. Her pupils dilate in curiosity, as she's eager to learn what secret you have about her mother. She nods her head up and down, giving you the green lights to tell her. 

"She kissed me last night." - you really shouldn't be this proud while saying that, especially when you literally begged her to do so. 

"She kissed-" - Eveline exclaims , slamming her palm on the surface of the table, her head shifts from side to side , probably checking for more curios ears around the two of you, then her voice goes down to a whispering tone - "mother, my mother kissed  you?" 

"She did." - Miranda did and Eveline doesn't need to know how or why. Nor will you tell her. You cross your arms in front of your chest while you try not to laugh at Eveline, who's still pretty much trying to process what you just told her. 

"Willingly?" - the girl asks , eyebrows lifted upwards, eyes widened wide. 

"Of course." - well almost, if you only count the second time. Still you wave your hand in the air as if it's a stupid question to ask - "How exactly can I force her?"  

"So that means..." - Eveline grabs the end of the table, nervously dragging her nails along the surface, making a noise that rings in your ears and you try your best to ignore it - "She loves you, so you do. And you will...get married and live together?!" 

Her guesses are way too bold and rushed. And with the way she speaks , fast and messy, you almost don't process what she has just said. Then you repeat it one more time in your head before you burst out laughing. 

"Evie you... that's a lot." - you hate to see her excitement evaporating from her face , but you can't leave her with such fantasies in her head - "love is a strong word, you know?" 

"But she kissed you?" - a hint of confusion in her voice. 

"That doesn't define love, sweetie" - you extend and arm to  brush her hair behind her shoulders and gently caress her head , trying to calm her as obvious sadness overtakes her - "it's more complicated, and a kiss doesn't solve it." - you pause to look at her now furrowed eyebrows - "That's why i wanted to ask you what she likes. I plan to ask her on a date." 

"A date?" - the shining excitement is back on her face within seconds, it makes you smile - "Ask all you want then, I've got you." 

"Well for starters...if i decide to take her a restaurant" - Eveline listens carefully, fully devoted into your problems - "For what kind should i go?" 

"Oh, that's hard" - she sighs , grabbing the side of her face and tapping a few times on the table with a sharp nail, trying her best to think of a solution - "Mother hates to be around many people, so make sure it's more private." 

"Noted" - you give her an encouraging smile. 

"Also, the food" - she points a finger at you - "be careful, choose wisely, she's a very peaky eater. So if the food is not to her liking then...I'm not sure how that date will go on." 

"What food should i go for , then?" - thinking about it now, you've rarely even seen Miranda eat anything. You beg the gods to not completely allow this to fuck everything up. 

"She only seems to enjoy her own cooking" - Eveline shifts up her shoulders in unsurenes. And you blink slowly in desperation. Of course, you're fucked. 

"Should i mention that she's very keen on fancy restaurants as well?" - Eveline gives you a mocking smile - "don't even bother if you think of taking her to a  pizza place or something similar." 

"That's not much of a suprise actually" - you clear your throat, before beginning to play with your fingers - "Does she likes music, dancing?" 

Perhaps a club will be the key for her locked door. 

"Oh, gods no" - Eveline sets you up at zero again - "Well dancing, i don't think she hates , however when it comes to music...she's weird. She only listens to calm melodies with no lyrics. She hates people's voices singing absurd things over the pretty notes of music." 

"So she listens to what?" - you throw your hand in the air - "Classical music?" 

"I have no idea" - the black haired girl scoffs , locking her eyes with yours - "It's not the genre i like , that's certain." 

So definitely not something you're fond of either. Because judging from the car trip from yesterday, you and the girls have pretty much the same taste in music. But of course, Miranda has to go fancy with it. 

"Well with only knowing she's obsessed with reading and is a science freak" - which you like and it's definitely helpful when it comes to your own personal struggles with university, she's truly a good teacher - "what else do i have left to acknowledge so i can discover her completely?" 

"You're a bit wrong" - Eveline corrects you - "Mother has many interests, hobbies as well. But I'm not sure they're fit for a date." 

You both grow silent, as you loose yourself in thoughts about Miranda and what exactly you can do to romance her. Eveline tells you about her interest in fashion and a funny story from years ago when she tried learning how to produce her own clothing but she failed miserably, so now she pays extra for designers , as she feels hatred towards fast fashion and cheap, not aesthetically pleasing garments. No wonder her chosen outfits are always so well styled. 

"I say it's the best if you just ask her" - the girl speak out loud her final advice for you - "And then let mother decide where she wants to go." 

"Let mom decide to go where?" - now that's a sneak up that's up for a reward, because it doesn't only manage to scare you but it also makes Eveline jump in her seat. You both turn around to observe your unexpected visitor. Eva has a boring expression on her face. When none of you greets her normally, still in shock from her presence, she gets angry. 

"What are you two talking about?" - she asks , annoyed, while taking a seat next to her sister. She's determined to get an answer, because she doesn't even give her plate a glare, instead she focus her attention on you. 

"Nothing important, Eva" - you wave her off , exchanging worried glances with Eveline. You know the blonde haired girl is protective of her mother, so telling her your plans now might ruin your chances. 

She scoffs with a disgusted look occupying her face. 

"Fine. Don't tell me." - her curiosity abandons her just as she plugs her hand in and out of  her pocket and quickly throws a list of paper on the table, perfectly landing it in front of you, her little finger points at you and you get the idea that it is, in fact meant for you. 

Miranda's handwriting is very recognisable, you have no trouble finding out it's hers as your eyes carefully scan the little paper in your hands. A grocery list. 

"Your mama wants us to go shopping?" - you tilt your chin towards Eva with an urging smile. Every opportunity to leave the mansion is a blessing you don't plan to ever ignore or miss out. 

"She's quite busy today, so yes." - the younger girl  finally decides to start eating her breakfast after answering your  so obvious in her eyes question. Your smile doesn't drop from your face even after you put the shopping list in the case of your phone, in order not to loose it. 

A new car trip awaits the three of you right after breakfast.

.

.

.

"How many stores left?" - Eveline asks weakly from the backseat of your car , her hand gently pushing on Eva's shoulder to keep her awake, as the energy of both of them is long gone, along with yours. 

Why does Miranda have to be this peaky? About literally everything. You've been to several different stores just to get her needed groceries. That kind of work is more intense and exhausting then all of your babysitting adventures till now merged together. 

"I think this is the last one" - you say , unbuckling your seat belt lazily, then grabbing the now scrambled shopping list in your hands to read the finally reached end - "we just have to buy..." - you make a pause, because what's written on the bottom confuses you - "Hair dye?" 

Miranda bleaches her hair? You always thought she's a natural blonde, judging by how good the colour suits her. 

"Since when does your mother dye her hair?" - you turn around to the girls, unexpectedly greeted by confused faces , as if you're asking the obvious. 

"Since forever?" - Eva raises a brow in your direction. 

"She used to do it at home" - Eveline tries to clear out the picture for you, almost immediately making you imagine Miranda sat patiently, waiting for her crafted hair dye to do it's magic - "but she couldn't quite make the colour she desired, which is Eva's, so she gave up and started going around shops for it , only the best, of course." 

Well that explains the nice colour of dripping gold her hair posseses. Your gaze shifts to Eva, the little copy of Miranda. Looking closely you can almost spot the difference in the shades of blonde between the mother and daughter. 

"Interesting" - you note out loud, caughting the younger girl's attention - "I always assumed you got your colour directly from Miranda, and not the other way around." 

It's kind of cute. Maybe the woman just wanted to match with her daughter? You don't have a of time to think about it because Eva interrupts the wandering thoughts from forming in your head. 

"This hair colour is the only thing i inherited from my father" - Eva grabs a few locks of honey between her fingers, gently twisting before releasing them back in their original place - "mommy was never very fond of it..." 

So instead of changing Eva's hair she bleached hers? So she would resemble more of her and not her...

"Father?" - you ask in surprise - "I thought Miranda was..." 

Not that much into men. But then again, she did say Eveline is the adopted one so it's not impossible for Eva to have a real father, which Miranda liked , at least a little, in order to have her. You're more than confused. Something it definitely not adding up. 

"Was what...?" - Eva's question reminds you of the two girls who are way too eager to finally get home and rest , as most of the day was spent in many , many different shops.

"Nothing." - you're quick to wave it off and the girl is too tired to care , yet your curiosity stays and you can't stop yourself from asking - "Where's your father now?" 

"Long dead and forgotten." - voice as cold as winter, it's clear the man is not a happy memory to the little girl - "i doubt mommy even bothered to bury him. It was so many years ago." 

It's been a long day. Maybe you didn't hear her correctly, or maybe you did. But you know you have no desire for her to repeat the sentence she just murmured, nor to try and understand it , to make it make sense. You give up, too exhausted for that. 

"Alright. Let's get that hair dye and get home." - the girls are more than happy to follow your given request. 

***** 

You manage to calculate the exact time to come home just as Miranda's black jeep also parks in front of the mansion. Next to it your tiny car looks miserable insignificant , copying the feelings that sometimes hit you when you stand too close to Miranda herself. 

The two girls in the back seat immediately wake up from their half-sleeping half-being awake state , in a hurry to unbuckle their seat belts to get out of the car and run to their mother, who is already standing gracefully in front of the grand  entrance. 

And while she bends down her knees in order to get to her daughter's height level , while she hugs and occupies them with loving kisses , as the woman hasn't seen them all day , you can't stop the burning feeling of her gaze falling upon you. Your hands grip the steering wheel impossibly tight as you swallow. 

You have to get out of the car, sooner or later , regardless of the woman that you both hate and love to see is still standing there or not. You  sigh , remembering that you also have a few very heavy , very full of groceries backs you need to somehow drag in the mansion, alone. 

Your eyes shift one final time back to Miranda's direction. She's gone , along with her two daughters. Just perfect. 

The sad grumbling of childish frustration pours through the open-doored rooms on the lower floor of the mansion and you manage to hear the girls' displeasure before you can get to the kitchen ,ready to deliver  the groceries. They stand with angry faces and crossed arms in front of Miranda, who is slightly curled over them,  smiling comfortingly. 

The moment your feet take the first step into the room, the blonde woman looks at you and her eyes light up. It's as if you are her comfort after a hard day, a salvation from her children, who continue to try  to get  her attention in every way possible. Miranda has to stop Eva from pulling the edge of her shirt as she clears her throat and points at you. 

"Why don't you go watch the movie with her , loves?" - there's a pleading hint in her voice, that matches perfectly with the vulnerable tension that curves her eyebrows - "I'm sure she'd be delighted to spend more time with you." 

"But you promised!" - this time it's Eveline who makes Miranda roll her eyes in annoyance, as she takes a deep breath, shifting her head in the little girl's attention. 

"Sweetheart, I'm exhausted from work" - she gently brushes the rivers of dark hair , that hoover over the girl's face , then she cups her cheeks - "and by what I'm hearing your own day wasn't very short either." 

"That's okay" - Eva tugs the sleeve of Miranda shirt again, demanding her attention, there's a large , proud smile on her face - "I can prepare the snacks if you're tired , mommy." 

"There's no need for that , Eva" - with her free hand she pats her head , before she can continue speaking, however, Eveline interrupts her. 

"And i can fix the paper screen for the movie!" - you can clearly notice the moment Miranda starts to question her decisions, heavy influenced by her daughter's eager demands. 

"How about I do all of that?" - your unexpected intervention causes all three to turn to you, their faces expressing such shared surprise that they could pass for twins, you sink your heels more firmly into the floor with your next word - "So you can go ahead, get changed and then we can...watch the movie together?" 

Miranda blinks a few times , her lips slightly part , as she's ready to argue, however she hesitates. Without any further discussions she breaks free from her daughter's grasp and takes a few steps closer to you. 

You think she's going to stop and maybe brings matters to crazy levels, as she usually does. But instead she just brushes her fingers carefully over your shoulder as she walks completely past you, her heels dragging lazily on the floor, a large smile on her lips. 

"It's a date, then." 

Eveline giggles right after Miranda leaves the room. Part of you also finds it hard not the curve the corners of your lips upwards. 

.

.

.

The big, red sofa in the library is perhaps even softer than Miranda's bed itself. It buckles under the weight of from the  four of you above it. First you sit, somewhere in the middle, so you can look at the paper screen at the best angle. Eveline finds her seat on your left, a small pillow in her hands. Miranda settles on your other side, Eva is  following closely after her , carrying a thin blanket to cover herself with as she stays calmly in her mother's embrace. 

You start the film not long after. The fact that it's not an animation surprises you because you expected it to be one, after all Eveline and Eva are children, but no, instead all of you happen to  enjoy a comedy  together, for about a quarter of an hour ,before you feel the weight of the already sleeping body of the black haired girl falling on your left side. 

Ten minutes follow quickly and as you shift your eyes to the side , you catch Eva sleeping soundlessly next to her mother as well. You give both of them a genuine smile, completely understanding their exhaustion. You also hate going in circles through different shops. And Miranda didn't exactly make it easy for it. 

Speaking of the blonde woman, you can't help the goosebumps that awaken in your body as she places her head on your shoulder, giving into sweet slumber along with her daughters. With all of them practically using you as a pillow you force yourself to stay completely still, not wanting to take the risk is disturbing their sleep, in any way possible. 

However, as the movie reaches its end you manage to relax. And as if enchanted your hand moves up, face tilting in Miranda's direction. You shouldn't touch her , yet your fingers brush against her forehead only a second after they reject that thought. 

You slowly drag your thumb downwards, below her eyes , past the hill of her cheekbones , along the valley of her cheeks, down to the base of her slightly parted lips. You loose the battle with your conscience , allowing yourself to drag the soft pads of your fingertips over her bottom lip. 

Your breath hitches the moment her eyelashes twitch gently, one , then two times , giving you enough time to retreat your hand back. A few seconds after her eyes snap open and she lazily yawns. 

"Has the movie ended?" - she dares not moves, not wanting to wake up Eva as well. Though her eyes stay focused on you. 

"Do you want me to play another one?" - your face is intimidatingly close to hers , as both of you try to stay quiet around the two  sleeping kids on the sofa. 

"Oh, darling" - she whispers - "it's charming you still think i care about that film."  

Miranda does not allow you to answer. Her lips press against yours , silencing you before you can form a reasonable sentence. The kiss she's currently gifting you has nothing to do with the one from last night. She's so gentle, angelic, almost as if she's afraid of the possibility to break you. And you give  completely into her. 

Suddenly you feel hot , her body heat so close to melting your skin. With each perfect curve of her lips pressing against yours, she manages to light a new and successive fire in your soul. You would willingly throw yourself into that fire if it meant you could kiss her like that whenever and wherever you wanted.

Her teeth tenderly scratch on your lower lip , however before you can open your mouth more , in order to give her wicked tongue further access, she parts away. Your fist goes to tug on her nightgown.

"Miranda..."- you whisper her name in a warning, low tone. 

"I'm tired..." - she murmurs back to you, placing a single, swift kiss over your lips, her nose brushing against yours. Then you cross your arms and carefully observe her every move as she shakes Eva's shoulder. When the little girl opens her eyes , Miranda assures her it's time for bed , and gently picks her up, disappearing into the darkness leading to the upper floor. 

You leave before she can return to grab Eveline as well. 

.

.

.

This cannot go on like this. You don't want to be a toy in Miranda's hands for her  to play with whenever she express her desire to do so. It has maybe been half an hour, in which you've rolled in your bed from side to side , trying desperately to get that bloody woman out of your head. Yet , she stays there like a parasite. 

That's why you're currently standing in front of her bedroom door, determined to have a serious talk with her. You're in luck, because no matter how tired she might have looked in the library, she's still pretty much not asleep, as the golden light from an inner lamp shines under the crack of the door. 

You don't bother to knock, you know she's going to invite you in anyway. The door shifts open revealing the room ahead of you. Miranda sits calmly in front of her rich vanity ,  various cosmetics, mixed with makeup and many nice smelling creams placed all over it. The simple oversized, white shirt she's wearing looks almost funny on her , since you're used to seeing her in her fancy outfits. Even her nightgown could pass for an evening dress , if she was wearing it right now. 

You quick acknowledge the reason of why she changed her clothes. Because you manage to catch her right in the middle of her hair bleaching process. Her hair is carefully sectioned and supported by many little clips , part of it already covered in the light coloured dye. 

You give her a faint smile, closing the door after you. After all she never told you to leave. 

"You know, I would never have suspected that you dye your hair" - you stand closely behind her , your reflection in the mirror in front of you towering over hers - "to think that instead of naturally blonde you're..." 

You're not sure what her real hair might look like actually. 

"A brunette." - Miranda helps you out - "I'm not fond of that colour ,though." 

You've never gotten the chance to observe her this closely, this precisely. Currently you're able to spot the darker shades in her roots. She allows you to wrap a string of her hair around your fingers. 

"Why not?" -  you sharply tug on that single, golden piece, imagining her hair suddenly switching to a dark , brown colour. She wrinkles her nose - "I'm sure you still look amazing." 

"It has nothing to do with me , darling" - she assures you, amusement ghosting over her face. 

"How so?" - you don't realise when your fingers break any contact with her hair and instead they linger over the skin of her nape , around the side of her neck. She doesn't mind it. 

"When Eva was younger, she spent... quite some time away from me." - Miranda stops to rub the base of her throat, as if she has trouble breathing. You hesitate to grab her hand in yours - "i was afraid by the possibility of me forgetting how she looks like." 

"So you dyed your hair to reassemble her more?" - they truly look like twins , one is a complete copy of the other , but hair can change the appearance of a person a lot. Miranda nods at your next words - "So you wouldn't forget her." 

"I tried to go back to being brunette when she came back to me..." - Miranda waves her hand in the air , making you notice the awful ring she's still wearing. You wonder if she takes it off even when she sleeps - "But I could not like myself with that colour anymore." 

You dare not ask why Eva was away from her. Miranda seems tense enough just by mentioning it, you don't want to spoil her mood completely by forcing her to tell you more. 

"Allow me to help you with that , Miranda" - you take the brush she has been adding the bleach with till now from her hand and begin to work it on your own way. 

"Go ahead, darling" - she doesn't complain. In fact, she's quick to relax under your skillful fingers. 

You've dyed your hair a few times in your teenage years, so the activity is a  child's play for your hands. And it doesn't take long before you manage to cover the length of Miranda's hair with the bleach, including her roots. Now all you have to do is wait, which gives you the perfect chance to ask her about the planned date. 

"Miranda, would you consider..." - you start unsurely, carefully observing her face in the mirror - "...going out with me , for dinner perhaps?" 

She scoffs. That's not good. 

"I consider that very unprofessional" - she speaks with a mocking tone , which lights up a different fire within you , one born by anger - "along with the things you feel towards me." - she pauses for a moment - "After all I'm your boss-" 

Miranda hisses in pain when you grab a large portion of her hair and twist it around your hand , then you roughly pull it backwards, forcing her head to follow that direction. Only  her deliciously looking ,bare neck is left to reflex in the mirror by this new angle.

"That's unprofessional?" - you spit out, bringing your frustrated face closer to her own , though a hint of playfulness shines behind her dilated pupils - "I didn't hear you complaining about being my boss last night. Or  when you kissed me nearly an hour ago." 

You don't even want to mention the picture from early this morning.

She tries to stand up but your other hand pushes hard onto her shoulder, forcing her back down. She growls while the grip you possess her golden locks with tightness. 

"Ruin my hair and you'll have to start all over again" - she warns you. 

"If that means I'll spend more time with you..." - you whisper dangerously close to her ear - "...then I'll do it." 

Miranda laughs at you again. Making fun of you is another secret hobby of hers , it seems. You cut her off by  granting her another harsh tug on her hair. This time she bares her white teeth at you. Both of you know you're walking on thin ice. But in your defence she has crossed the line long ago. You can also play games. 

"I want you, Miranda" - you have the awful desire to be with her , almost all the time , the idea of her makes your head feel heavy and chest full of inexplicable happiness - "Please don't make me say how badly." 

You're willing to beg her. You're sure she would love that. 

"Tell me darling" - her hands move up to cup your cheeks in an uncomfortable for both of you position, yet none of you moves away , her lips are perfectly ready for kissing from this angle - "Did your desire come before or after seeing the pictures meant for Mia?" 

For Mia, and not for you. Curiosity truly kills the cat. 

"Before..." - you whisper, it's not a lie. You definitely had something going on about her in your head before going through that chat. You were just denying the attraction you feel towards her. 

"And you want me for what i am..." - she gets a hold of the hand that has been pushing on her shoulder till now and you can only watch, barely breathing, and feel  as she guides your fingers down the curves of her chest, it's when they reach the edges of her shirt that she whispers back to you - "...or my body." 

"I want all of you, everything you got" - your left hand finally releases her hair, while your other stays at the end of her shirt, unmoving, with a wrist still locked between her slender fingers - "I'm not the selfish woman Mia is-" 

"You know nothing about Mia." 

"I know enough to say she's treating you like a mere mistress." - a pause - "and nothing more." 

Within seconds Miranda manages to not only stand up but somehow push you backwards until your back hits the wall behind you and she grabs a hold of your collar. 

"I loved her."  - her face is deformed by anger, mixed with the salty feeling of sadness - "I've spent ten years of my life loving her." 

"Loved." - this particular word you decide to repeat it enough to hint to Miranda that Mia is in the past. And you can be her future. 

The woman releases you, as she speaks again you shiver. Her voice is cold as ice , and it's as if she's spitting venom at you. 

"What do you want?" - she takes a step back to her vanity, it's sickening to see her this distressed - "What do you want from me?" 

A single voice crack convinces you  Mia is a very , very forbidden thing to discuss. As the blonde woman in front of you is at the verge of tears. The dislike you've had towards Mia shapes into hatred. Because you hate to see Miranda upset. 

"Let me take you on a date." - you shallow when you take a step closer to you and she lifts a hand to hold you in your current place - "Let me treat you right, Miranda I want t-" 

"Fine" - she urges to say , licking her dry lips as her fingers find the safety edges of her vanity - "Fine , fine. Just...tell me when so i can choose a place." 

"This Friday?" - you try to move closer to her again but she shakes her head. 

She agrees without further ado. And you obey her when she asks you, begs you, to get  out and leave her alone. Neither of you bid the other goodnight as you silently close her bedroom door behind you. 

You feel a strange feeling in your chest as the sound of her locking her door almost immediately after you're no longer in it makes its way to your head. And you look down at your hair dye covered palms, sighing deeply.  

[c0la-queen]

Edd Headcanons | The Older Brother Friend

---

Appearance:

My Edd has tan skin and fluffy brown hair. He's got light, scruffy facial hair but he shaves it every so often so it doesn't get too thick.

His eyes are a warm chocolate brown in my head, but because of his powers they sometimes glow green- in the dark or when he's angry.

Edd is the tallest of the crew in my timeline, a whopping 6'5. He rubs this in and will use his height as a weapon against the others. The type to send those "Send this to your short friend" to Tom and Reader.

I am a chubby Edd truther!!! My man is a big cuddly bear!! So warm and perfect for hugs and cuddles!!! But don't be mistaken, he is still fit. Probably the broadest of the group, with shoulders almost touching the door frame. And while his powers do help, Edd is still on of the physically strongest of the group- before he got his powers, he and Tord were equal in strength.

Has to wear glasses when reading or doing digital art, and to help his eyes they're blue light glasses. Has no piercings, but he does have a tattoo somewhere on his body. Won't tell anyone where or what it is. (Only person who knows is the person he made the bet with, which would be either his sister or Tom)

Family Life:

Has one of the most average family experiences.

His parents are happily married. They were always loving and doting and were objectively good parents.

He has one younger sister. They gave a good relationship, the two get along and still stay in touch even when he's moved out.

But, he also had his own struggles. Specifically during high school, he started feelings like his parents paid more attention to his younger sister's achievements than his. They never favored her or gave her better things than him. But he couldn't help but feel like she was seen as the more academic one compared to him.

Despite this, he didn't hold it against her or his parents. As he matured, he managed to fight through those thoughts.

Has his baby cat Ringo, the most precious thing in his life.

Personality:

Edd isn't the dad friend of the group. Edd is the older brother friend. He cares about the others and is considered as the "head" of the group. (Often likes to joke that he's the alpha male). But, he's not nurturing, he's a little bastard. He can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, and can accidentally take it a little too far.

Steals people's things to piss them off. Not anything super important, and he always gives it back after a short while of teasing. If there's something his roommates don't want anyone touching, he'll usually respect that. (Susan is an exception)

Holds objects over other people's heads where they can't reach it. Reader and Tom are the usual victims of this, but if he wants to do it to Matt or Tord he'll float off the ground.

Has his head in the gutter all the time. The type of friend to hear the word "come" and turn to you with a stupid grin.

"That's what she said." "Deez nuts."

Although he's a bastard, he loves the others. He'll remind them to eat or drink water, drag the group outside when everyone's been inside too long, organize the weekend adventures or the game/movie night, and he cooks dinner most of the nights.

Fiercely protective of all the roommates, but specifically Reader. He isn't afraid to slap the fuck outta anyone who is insulting or threatening any of his people.

Loves playing Mario Kart and Mario Party because he can piss multiple people off at the same time while also winning the game.

Works as a commission artist and animator for a studio. He has a whole digital art setup on his desk in his room. While he still works all week like a normal job, he can set his own hours, take breaks whenever he wants, and is able to work completely from home. He just has to get his projects done by the deadline.

He likes Oreos :D just thinks they're tasty.

His favorite band is the Beatles! It's why he named his cat Ringo- he's loved the band since he was a little kid.

Smells like coffee and mint.

Enjoys watching Studio Ghibli movies with Reader. Especially likes My Neighbor Totoro, since its got the Cat Bus.

Has a big metal water bottle that he painted. I think he'd have an emerald green bottle and paint really detailed fir trees around it.

Has a PC setup for animation/digital art, an iPad for digital art, and a sketchbook for traditional art. Likes to dabble in several art mediums. His favorites are acrylic paint, watercolor, and charcoal.

Plays Pokemon games with the Reader during his breaks from drawing. He's an "all physical attacks, no status conditions" type of player. Prefers grass types but mains cat Pokemon.

Cuddle bug. Loves taking naps with Reader. Will fall asleep with her on the couch, on his bed, or on her bed. The perfect time to nap in his opinion is during rainy days.

Would love to get matching onesies with Reader if she asked him to. Proudly takes pictures with her while wearing them.

Lets Reader sit in his lap while he draws or plays games. Thinks its the cutest thing if she falls asleep in his lap.

Takes Reader with him while grocery shopping. But will trap her between his arms while pushing the cart to keep her from wandering.

Can be really intimidating when he's pissed.

Playlist (Based off My Spotify Playlist of Him):

Hollywood Undead

Childish Gambino

Joji

Rex Orange County

Jack Stauber

blink-182

The Weeknd

[bambiraptorx]

I think the reason people, myself included at first I'll admit, are/got so hype for missing sis' design is because it's a 'canon' (I can't remember how canon the comics are) appearance of a character reveal that was planned to happen in Rise but we never got. Now that my hype has gone down I'm disappointed too :(. I'm semi-willing to forgive the snatched waist she has because Leo has it too. I do think the face marking are cool though

Yeah I do appreciate the facial markings, they're a different enough shape from Leo's (and the fanon ones the others often get) that they stand out nicely. The idea of a flame-like pattern that doesn't seem to be fully symetrical is very cool. But honestly? It's one of the few things I like about her face reveal/comic design, the rest I'm neutral on or mildly annoyed by.

this next part got ranty, so I'm just gonna put it under a read more. Absolutely nobody has to read this lol. TLDR I get heated about the design for Big Mama's Assistant in the comic.

I do want to clarify upfront, most of my issues are with the design of Big Mama's Assistant (Venus/Frida) as shown in the comic specifically. Given that it does not (and isn't meant to) fit into the show's artstyle, it's possible that her show design would have looked different. But the fact remains that this might be the closest we ever get to having an actual canon design of her.

And... it's not all that great a design in my opinion.

(That said, I do still like the markings that she's given in that design. Those are cool. Thumbs up.)

My main issue is with how there's so many little details intended to scream "I am a Girl Character that's G-I-R-L and don't you forget it". Like, I genuinely hope that's not the design she was supposed to have in the show, because it feels like it's being almost shoved in your face that This Is A Girl.

The traits I've noticed so far:

She has lips. Or possibly lipstick, but in either case the appearance of lips. None of the other (male) turtles have lips, but all the important female characters in Rise do.

She has heavy eyeliner/mascara, as in the upper line of her eye is noticeably thicker. Yes the boys look like they have winged eyeliner at some points, but hers is much heavier.

This is more subtle, but she seems to have larger pupils than the other (male) characters in the comic, giving her something of a doe-eyed look.

Her plastron shape has been rounded out/simplified, giving her the appearance of boobs and an hourglass figure. (Interesting note here: in the show, the male turtles have comparable or perhaps larger sized bumps in their plastrons. Yes there's a slight difference in shape, but it defintely doesn't look like she has boobs in the show.)

They made her have an obviously lighter skin tone than the other turtles. Yes it may well be a result of dramatic lighting, but enough people have taken it as her canon skin tone that it still counts.

Long story short, all these items are things often used in visual media (especially in cartoons) to code male and female animal characters as, well, male and female. And it's important to note, most of the time this coding is *completely divorced* from the sexual dimorphism actually seen in those species. We can speculate all we want on if she's wearing makeup or not, but the fact remains that turtles don't have lips or cinched waists. She doesn't *need* all that to emphasize that she's a girl. Even just two or three of these traits would be fine!

(And while I also have issues with the whole "you have a brother and sister" thing when it was previously discussed as being two sisters, maybe it would have been fun to see a design that gave us a little more room to debate if this was a brother or a sister. Yeah we'd heard from the creators that Big Mama's assistant was a girl, but that's also where we heard that the turtles had two sisters.)

It also kind of bothers me a bit to see the fandom response, in that there's a lot of people who are taking the design as is I guess? And sure, there's plenty of people who *aren't* drawing her as is and remove some of the intense girl coding, but there's also people who do draw her as close to the comic design as possible. And while there's nothing automatically wrong with that, I do hope those people are at the very least aware of the tropes that her design falls into.

Now to perhaps the more controversial part of this post outside of just the visual tropes she falls into. For me personally, there's nothing (outside her markings) that makes the face reveal all that interesting design-wise? And there's basically nothing that indicates anything about her personality.

She wears makeup. So what? Not only is that the societal standard for women and girls in real life, it's basically the standard for how female characters in Rise are designed. It's also a hugely common design element of female animal characters. It tells us nothing about her, except, again, she's a girl.

Her outfit is the same as canon, so there's no new information there.

Her expression is carefully neutral, and doesn't really tell us anything. Heck, everyone else in the scene is having more of a reaction than she is. The other turtles have shocked expressions and Big Mama is angry. Venus... has her eyes open I guess? There's a lack of expression on her part in an otherwise very expressive comic.

And (again in my opinion) her design honestly isn't particularly unique. She has a face shape relatively similar to Mikey's (the main different being his chin is rounded and hers is pointed) and she has facial markings like Leo. And while it's not a bad thing that her design resembles the other turtles given that she's supposed to be related to them, many of the design traits that make her stand out are the Girl Design Traits.

It's also worth pointing out that there's a very specific way Rise draws important female characters, with them all having similar body types and facial details, and this design plays right into that. It's a further example of a Rise girl/woman who's thin with a small waist and lips and a small nose and no obvious musculature. There's been other posts that break this down more than I'm going to here, but the design for Big Mama's Assistant just... continues all that.

And I don't have a problem with characters looking feminine, but when they're all feminine in similar ways, it gets a little... boring? Even a little body type diversity would have been nice (like giving Casey muscles instead of the same slender arms as everyone else, for example.) The assistant doesn't have to follow the same pattern (she's an entirely different species, for one), but she does.

And in some ways it's like, yeah, we got to have confirmation that she's a character. She exists. Hooray. She said nothing and she did nothing besides take off her mask. We all knew there was gonna be a face under there anyway! And seeing her finally appear in canon, only to be drawn using so many visual cues to show her as The Girl Turtle is... a little underwhelming, I think.

But the fact that I've already got a design for Venus/Frida is probably also a factor here. I'm more attached to my design and I like it better lol. Rant over.

[acotarfrustrations]

An ongoing list of acowar grievances I'm keeping track of while I read (because there's too many to make a post about all of them)

1) Feyre's constant edginess. It's such a bizarre and ham-fisted shift in the voice of the character from the previous book. Too much tell, not enough show

2) "that they thought Rhysand could ever force someone . . . I added that to the long list of things to repay them for.".........lol OK girl

3) Feyre all of a sudden knowing how to use every power she has despite her very limited "training"

4) constant mention of Lucien and Elain's mating bond. Not only do I not give a damn, I REALLY wish it wasn't a thing all together

5) CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MORTAL QUEENS TO ME? WHO TF EVEN ARE THEY?? It's so stupid that they don't get brought up until feyre is a fae like we have no clue the humans even have an overarching government until she's not human anymore. Why are they turning them Fae? What possible advantages can they grant the fae that they don't have already? How tf are there so many queens when the human territory is so small? For that matter, why tf is Hybern going to war over a tiny handful of humans? Why involve this convoluted plot with turning the mortal queens into Fae when it seems like the humans don't even know of their existence so they wouldn't listen to or follow them in the first place

6) this should be dual pov. I would LOVE tamlin's perspective or even lucien's

7) I need WAY more information about the cauldron because it makes no sense

8) this isn't a gripe but I just have to mention how bad I feel for lucien

9) somehow ianthe became 10x MORE boring as a villain. Like you could replace her woth Regina George and the book would be more interesting

10) WHY IS THERE SO MUCH SEXUAL ASSAULT, OH MY FUCKING GOD

11) this whole spying on the spring court thing is stupid, inefficient, and childish. The NC is risking the lives of all the courts doing this shit when they could easily just ACTUALLY TELL THE OTHER COURTS WHATS GOING ON TO GIVE THEM A CHANCE TO RALLY TOGEYHER AND DEFEND THEMSELVES, form an alliance, and reason with tamlin or attack him if he refuses to listen to reason. Most information they stand to gain from what they're doing is useless in light of how many fae and human lives stand to be lost or displaced

12) WE FUCKING GET IT FEYRE! THERE ARE TWO WOLVES INSIDE YOU! BENEATH YOUR SKIN YOU ARE A WOLF, A MOUNTAIN LION, A PANTHER, A COBRA, A TARANTULA, A BALD EAGLE, AND EVERY OTHER KIND OF PREDATOR UNDER THE SUN!!!!! JFC I GET SYMBOLISM BUT ITS GETTING CRINGE IN HERE

13) that entire ridiculous summer solstice scene in chapter 4

14) FEYRE COMPARING TAMLIN TO ARAMANTHA?! HELLO???????

15) the whole situation with using Lucien to make tamlin jealous is just....icky, idk

16) I almost regret wanting more political intrigue In these novels as it is by far Sarah Janet's weakest suit

17) framing jurian a villain is one of the dumbest decisions ever. Wish he had more screen time though

18) feyre's badass scene w/ the children of the blessed makes me wish that after she became fae, she returned to the human lands, killed/overthrew the mortal queens, said fuck you to tamlin and rhys, and just became queen of the mortal realms, having to earn her people's trust as a fae, protect and defend them, and come to terms w/ her loss of humanity. That would have been so EPIC

19) the entirety of chapter 8

20) the fact that acotar was written. If the series started w/ acomaf I would have a lot less problems. All the constant retconning and inconsistencies in canon and worldbuilding just keep pissing me off, idk I can't look past it

21) I'm losing count and I'm only on chapter 9 so I'm just going to keep reading for now. Might make a part 2 idk

[sweetbillwriting]

Love Just Happens

THE FINALE

Characters: The future's Bill Skarsgård and others close to him. The rest is my own characters.

Setting: This story is set in the future but because it's hard to say how the world is then (and it isn't that important for the story) the future is similar to our time now, even with fashion and so on.

Warnings: 18+, age difference, ageism.

Notes: Now is the time here to say goodbye to Bill and Aurora, my favorite fictional couple. I will miss them so much! Thank you for reading and following them in their long story!🩷

He knew who it was now. He knew who had betrayed them.

Bill sat in bed, looking at his cuticles without really taking in what he was looking at. He wasn't interested in his cuticles, just a place to rest his eyes. The clock was 6 AM, and he hadn't slept all night. He just looked at the inside of his eyelids, and now he needed some change, something else to look at while the thoughts and feelings pounded in his head.

He hadn't thought about anything else since he spoke to his manager. He just thought about the person who seemed to want to destroy their life. Sonny. One of Aurora's best friends. Bill hadn't liked him at all in the beginning. Every time he saw him, he just thought about all the attention-seeking things he had done to reach celebrity status. When he succeeded in pushing those thoughts away, he met a too big smile on Sonny’s face and a high pitched laugh. He couldn't see what Aurora saw in him, but he had proved himself to be a loyal friend over time. Or they had believed so until now.

If Bill put away all the good things he had learned himself to feel for Sonny, another person was left behind than the guy Aurora trusted. Left was just some vain guy, sitting on all of Aurora's secrets and a big loan for his studies. Bill scratched his cuticle with his thumb nail and sighed. He wished he had seen this coming, like he should have, but it was also understandable why he hadn't. Aurora really thought Sonny was her friend. Bill looked down at his wife, who lay facing him on her side of the bed, sleeping. Her hair was gathered in a long braid, but a third of it had loosened and laid as wild curls around her shoulders. She didn't know yet that her best friend had told all her secrets to the press. That one more of her friends had spit in her face to get what they wanted. His beautiful Lou, who never wanted any harm.

Bill crawled down next to her so he could lay with his face toward her and analyze her face. She wasn't just the most beautiful woman for him on the outside, but also on the inside. He wanted to protect her, save her from everything bad in the world, but he had been bad at that recently but would now see it as his most important mission. He never wanted to see her hurt again, but he knew that his first step on that mission was just that: to hurt her again. He needed to tell her about Sonny, and that would leave another bruise on her soul.

×××

Aurora looked sleepily up at her husband. He had woken her up with the soft vibration of his voice close to her face. She looked at his pouty lips and smooth skin and smiled a little. His mouth was the mouth of an angel’s. Lush, soft, and cherry red. She smiled a little and thought about kissing his lips, but the sleepiness fooled her to close her eyes and dream about them instead of tasting them for real.

“Lou? Lou?” Bill said softly again when she closed her eyes in a tired smile. He caressed her dark locks and put it behind her ear, then blew carefully on her eyelashes to irritate her just enough to wake up again. Aurora woke up again and answered by trying to wave him away, but Bill took her hand instead, and with a light pressure, forced her to give him attention.

“Babe, we must talk,” Bill said seriously, contrasting hard with the playful mood she had woken up in. She opened her eyes again and met his green stare. His serious face made her remember what was happening in their lives, and she understood it was more bad news.

“What have they written now?” She said lowly with her morning voice and looked down at their champagne-colored sheets. Bill continued to play with her curls, and licked his lips.

“They haven't written anything more, but I'm really sure I know who their source is…”

Aurora looked up at him curiously, but with a worry in her gut. What if it was someone who meant something to them? What if it was a relative to Bill?

“Sonny. It was Sonny,” said Bill shortly. He wanted to just put it on the table fast, there was no reason to not just give it to her fast, she would be sad anyway.

Aurora looked at him in silence and thought about her friend.

Sonny had come into her life while she was together with Mathias and their friendship had grown slowly. He hadn't forced himself on and had always seemed to have a real interest in being her friend. Of course she had noticed he liked being where things happen and that her new life as a mother was a bit of a disappointment, but it was just a part of his personality. He was social and extroverted, something she was too but had become a smaller, less important part of her life as a wife and mother.

Bill didn't say anything, just looked at his wife's face while she thought about what he had said. Their years together had taught her to think things through more closely than just act on her emotions. So many times had life been different than she had thought.

Aurora thought about Sonny's reaction when she was attacked, how worried he was, but also the times he had helped her with Isis. She thought about all their talks, the inside jokes, and the gossip. The gossip. He was an expert on gossip and craved it. It was he who had told her Bill had cheated on his older kids’ mother. He was the one she had told everything to about Bill and her because he could give her psychological advice. Bill and Mathias' first reaction to him. The rat comment. His stupid TikTok videos.

“Do you have any, like, proof for this accusation?” She said carefully to Bill. She could see that Sonny both had a history of gossip and motives to do it, but that was just speculation. Bill, who had hoped she would just jump on his theory because he was sure of it, felt an irritation in his chest, not really towards Aurora but to the situation. He didn't really have proof. He was always logical and reasonable like that, but now his emotions started to take over.

“My manager has a contact with Page Six who said it was a Swedish man. I can just see Sonny being that person if it's not Mathias. Or one of my brothers.” He said the last sentence pointingly, like that was unbelievable, and it was. It was Sonny, and she could see it too. Once again, a close friend betrayed her.

Bill looked at Aurora, who was still calm, but a tear ran down the bridge of her nose. He kissed her hand and pressed his forehead against hers. His stomach ached with several emotions, and he could feel a burning sensation up in his throat and spreading out like a virus in his chest. He really didn't like this, and it felt surreal that he would do something like what he thought about but seeing his wife, the love of his life, so hurt was enough to know he would be forced to do things he feared more than death.

“I will set him up. I will… I will make him confess to it while my manager hears and also record it. Then I will make a police report for slander, both here in Sweden but also in the USA. Then we will use the same fucking weapon as him. The media.”

His voice didn't sound like his, it was a darker but also broken voice that came out of his lips as a loud whisper. There was malice in it, but also heavy protectiveness. He would never use violence, threats, or anything like that but he would use the weapons he could find. It didn't really matter what would happen with the police report; the media and the people would judge Sonny anyway. For a while, their lives would probably be even more drama-filled, but after a while, the narrative would turn and people would want to be on their side, or at least enough people, so the slander of them would fade away.

“You know that podcast host I blurted out that we were a couple to?”

“Mm?” Aurora looked at him with big eyes.

“That episode is still his most listened to episode. I think he would love an interview with the both of us.”

Aurora looked between Bill's big green eyes with her big brown ones in silence. Bill tried to interpret her facial expressions, see what she thought about it all, but then she broke down in violent tears.

“Oh my god, Bill..!” She said through tears and pushed her body closer to his. She was in shock that he was prepared for such a thing. She had seen him hide from the media their whole relationship, and now he would play into them just for her. Just so they could get rectification.

“I know it's a lot… I'm terrified. I'm so fucking terrified but we need an end to this. He can't continue to feed them lies,” said Bill. His voice broke when his own tears spilled down on the pillow under him. Aurora hugged him hard, so hard to let their emotions mix and calm down each other. They needed an end to all of the lies, to fight for that, because their love deserved it.

×××

Their teams were torn about whether it was a good idea, but they could also see in the couple that they had, had enough. Aurora's team could also see how her whole career was slowly dying and wondered if this was maybe the final thing that could make it blow up again. Bill's team was so shocked that he had come up with this plan, he, who they would sometimes force to do an interview. Maybe they were a bit too curious about what would happen to put a stop to it. Bill's manager was open about his excitement, he said honestly to Bill that he liked that side of Bill, he liked how much he could surprise people, and he thought it was a thrill to actually be a part of the plan.

Both Bill and Aurora had rather seen her not be a part of the confrontation with Sonny. She or the life inside of her didn't need the stress; it would be much more emotional for her than for Bill to do such a thing, but they needed Sonny to have a reason to meet Bill. They needed a calm place, but didn't want to be in their house. That's why they borrowed Mathias' studio, Aurora said she was there working on new material and wanted Sonny as input and it would also be really easy for Bill to get everything on tape. The couple didn't have a clue if it would work and they could feel heavy anxiety in their chests. No one of them had done anything like that before and several times both of them thought about dropping it but suddenly Sonny called while they sat nervously on the couch and the time was in.

“It's so expensive with parking here; it's so fucking awful; every time I meet you here, I must starve for a week,” joked Sonny with a laugh. Aurora had the speaker on, and Bill furrowed his brows and looked at his wife. He interpreted Sonny differently than she did.

“Yeah… Yeah… But we’ll fix that, you know that,” said Aurora. Even if she talked with the guy who sold her secrets, she got a bad conscience for him needing to pay so much for parking. Bill could see that in her expression and wondered if this had happened a lot. He knew Aurora had no clue what parking cost in the area, Stockholm, or even Sweden, so it would be really easy to fool her. He was also eager to help his friends with things, but it was different if they showed any signs of manipulation.

“Is the code still 3442?” Asked Sonny.

“Yeah…” Said Aurora with a nervous shake in her voice. Bill hoped Sonny didn't hear it.

"Yeah, it worked. See ya!”

Aurora turned to Bill and looked at him with fear. He didn't say anything because he needed the few seconds before Sonny would be in the room to collect himself, and prepare for his performance. Aurora knew that he was the one who would do the work now while she left him alone so she could be calm and take care of the growing seed inside of her. Isis was safe with Gustaf and his family, but their other little baby was forced to be a part of all the drama.

Aurora hugged Bill's hand in hers, looking down at its comforting size, but then turned her eyes to the door. They could hear him now, stomping up the stairs and then opening the door like it was his own studio.

Sonny looked at them with a broad smile as they sat on the couch, but there was also another feeling that Aurora couldn't interpret but that Bill could. Disconcern. He looked like an animal who wondered if it needed to escape.

“Hey… Ehm…” Aurora stood up, looked between the men, and paused at Bill, who nodded in encouragement. “I’ll just go and try to find something for lunch…” she continued, walking to the door with a lowered gaze.

“Oh, okay,” said Sonny fast, and he turned on his heel so he could follow.

“Sonny. I want to talk to you,” said Bill, taking the moment when he had his back on him to start the recording and call up his manager. He laid the phone next to himself on the couch, but close to the armrest.

Sonny stopped his movement and laughed nervously. Aurora just continued to walk. She knew that was what Bill wanted her to do. No doubt, just walk away and not worry about anything.

Sonny looked after her, but then turned and looked at Bill. Even sitting down Bill was intimidating. His shoulders, so broad, his legs long and his arms strong. He looked at him with a dark expression and in that moment Sonny understood why Hollywood had him as a favorite villain. He had never seen Bill as that attractive and believed Aurora could get someone hotter but not just that but also someone more exciting. Bill made her boring but he also had a way that made you feel small and insignificant, or that's what Sonny felt at least. He hadn't felt a thing while spilling the lies about Bill. He would probably need to have things going against him.

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” said Bill with a sigh. He took on the role as disappointed but never lost that intimidating vibe. “Sit down.”

Sonny scoffed and rolled his eyes with crossed arms.

"I would rather stand.”

“Sure. Okay.” Bill sat up on the couch better and looked at Sonny intensely. Sonny didn't look at him but instead looked around in the room, like he was too good to give Bill his attention.

“I know it's you who talked to Page Six. I know it's you who betrayed my wife and manipulated everything she had told you to gossip-friendly stories.”

Sonny scoffed again but looked uncomfortable and even turned his eyes to the door, like he thought about escaping. His nervous behavior just made Bill more sure of himself. It was obvious it was Sonny. That little rat.

“I have a source at Page Six,” Bill said shortly, and it made Sonny finally look at him. His eyes were gray and worried, but they grew of panic. He dragged his hands nervously through his hair. “They know it's you.”

Sonny looked down at the floor, and it looked like he tried to come up with something to say, so Bill waited him out. He was good at being silent. To Bill's surprise, Sonny started to sob. Small, pathetic sobs like it was he who was the victim.

“You don't understand!” He said and dragged his fingers over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. Bill looked at him a bit uncomfortable because tears felt harder to handle than anger, but he must make him talk in some way or another.

“Okay?” He just said to make the conversation continue.

“You're so fucking rich! And famous! You have everything while I've fucking done everything to make things work!” Sonny didn't look at Bill, and he was glad for that; it would be too uncomfortable.

“So you wanted money? Is that it? You sold your stories about me and Lou?”

Sonny continued to sob and now sat down next to Bill on the couch, not to come closer but because his legs started to fail him.

“She just walked into Chanel and bought a bag, just like that! She has no understanding of money at all!”

There was truth to Sonny's words, but it still didn't make what he did understandable. Aurora had money—a lot of it but she was also generous and gave much away. Her lack of economic consciousness went in both directions. Bill swallowed hard because he hadn't yet gotten Sonny to confess; he just whined like a bitter teenager.

“But the one you talked the most about wasn't Lou…” he finally said to create some other feelings in Sonny. “Most of the lies were about me.”

Now Sonny swallowed hard and looked up at Bill carefully. He looked much more nervous now, like he expected Bill to hit him.

“Ehm…”

Bill lifted his brows and rested his elbow on the armrest, expectedly.

“It was just… It was just easier. Because… I understand you believe now that I'm the worst friend, that I don't care about Lou. I do! I really do!” Bill wanted to laugh at his words but kept his dark gaze to not make Sonny stop talking. “And Aurora is so great and… I didn't want to hurt her. I couldn't say she was a bitch, because she's really not. So…”

Bill looked at him with big eyes, waiting for him to confess.

“So it was easier to tell Page Six about you. And, to be fair, god, you have done some stupid shit.” Sonny looked at Bill now with big eyes, like he expected Bill to confess he was in the wrong. Bill smirked, because he had what he wanted now but instead of just being pleased with that he felt he could instead just meet Sonny's accusations.

“Like what do you mean?”

Sonny dried his tears and took a deep breath.

“Roxy? The trainer? Continue to work with that girl Aurora hated?”

Bill dragged a hand over his face in irritation. He hadn't done everything perfect in his and Aurora's relationship, but he didn't deserve this because of it.

“But I've never cheated and you know that too. You know how much I love Aurora Lou,” said he seriously and gave Sonny an intense look. Sonny looked up at him but then looked away.

"Yeah, I know that. I know that. But she still is worth more than you.”

Bill didn't move a muscle because, at that moment, he agreed with Sonny, even if Sonny had tried to destroy his life. Even a blind hen…

Sonny looked up at Bill and analyzed his face for a few seconds until Bill smacked his lips, then he didn't dare to look at him any more.

“I will file a police report so you know, and it's not mine or Aurora’s problem what happens with you after that.”

Sonny, who had believed he would be able to cry himself out of the mess, looked at Bill with horror and started to sob violently again. Now Bill just looked at him tiredly, but his real feelings were something else. Triumph. Triumph. Triumph. He had it all on tape, and his manager had heard everything.

×××

Aurora stood outside of the building. The idea was that she would calm down at a café and not think about what Bill was doing, but that had been impossible. She had turned back before she even walked into the café and had then stood hidden behind a corner so she could see the entrance door without Sonny seeing her when he walked out. She had a hand on her belly, to calm the baby down, she thought to herself but in reality it was to calm herself down. It was calming to think about the life inside of her. It was like it got her to think that everything would be okay.

She smiled to herself and continued to do that even when she saw Sonny leave the building. He marched away fast, but she couldn't see so many other emotions than that because his face was covered with his hood. She took a deep breath and walked to the entrance door. Hopefully Bill would give her good news and give the baby right.

She heard Bill laugh when she came into the studio. He had his phone pressed against his ear and walked around in the room with a hand on his hip.

“It was probably logical in his brain. Yeah, fuck, what a-” Bill didn't end his sentence because he had just realized Aurora stood behind him.

“I'll call you later,” he said to his manager and then hung up. He smiled a big, dopey smile towards Aurora and spread his arms out.

“I have it all on tape, baby.”

She looked at him with a pounding chest; it was much to take in, but then she let herself get swallowed by Bill's big embrace.

“Did you tell him that?” She asked and looked up at her husband’s face.

“No, no. That's just for the cops. I don't want to threaten him. I'm the good guy, you know,” he said with a smirk, and he gave her a little peck when she answered his smile.

“But that's not illegal? Or anything?” She said worryingly, and Bill smiled calmly.

“Not in Sweden. And it's just for the police. Okay?”

Aurora nodded, then took a deep breath and smiled in relief. Bill could see her eyes getting more shiny for every second and dragged his hand through her hair and patted her cheeks with his thumbs.

“God… That you dare to do this… I'm so happy you did this.”

Bill smiled sadly at first, thinking about just a couple of weeks ago, when he had wanted to hide. Then he also thought about what Sonny had said about him.

“I will do everything for you. Everything.” He said and looked her deep in the eyes. Aurora giggled and reached up so they could kiss again. Just then, the both of them could feel a movement between them, or for Aurora inside of her. Both of them looked down at her bump and laughed with happiness. Bill laid his hand on her belly to feel the sweet movement, and she looked at him with a loving smile.

“I'm so sure this will be a boy,” she said lowly. Bill looked at her with glistening eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

×××

2 years later…

Aurora really liked the dress—that perfect Barbie pink silky dress that floated nicely over her curves. Today she had matched it with nude strappy heels and her hair pin straight. The first time she had it on, she had it with heels the same color as the dress and her hair collected in a high, voluminous ponytail, but then she also had help from a hairstylist. It was the day they visited the podcast together—the filmed podcast. The dress had been tight over her pregnant belly, and the shoes had cut into her swollen feet. Now the dress had been sewn in to fit her petite frame again, and the shoes were one of her more comfortable heels.

The podcast had gotten so much attention, with her showing off her bump, Bill and her showing themselves together in such a context, and the long talk about all sorts of things, highs and lows. The articles about their slander accusation lay in everyone's memory while watching the interview, but they never talked directly about that, just touching on subjects like gossip, hate, and lies. Aurora became moved in a moment and was forced to dry her tears, but Bill sat so close, and she searched for support in him and found it so easily. Their love lit up the room like a firecracker. It was hard to not love them.

Bill had left his comfort zone completely that day. He had just had her on his mind. He had been forced to do that several times after that, but nothing made him hide, and that day he wouldn't hide either.

Aurora looked around at the people around the long table. It was their family and their friends, talking in a mix of Swedish and English, the way she most of the time talked. She was a part of Swedish society now, and her kids had their real roots there. It was not at all what she expected would happen in her life, but she was so thankful for that. Even if she were an international celebrity, her life had been lonely in many moments. Her family was small, so small that it was just her mom left but now she had family in every direction she looked. She had been betrayed by friends, used by family, and hurt by boyfriends, but now she sat around that table with more things than her career to be proud of. She gave her mom a look where she sat opposite her, next to Valter. If Aurora had been afraid of Valter in the beginning, he had been equally afraid of her mom. Erica sat at Aurora's right with her boyfriend and enjoyed their food. Everyone enjoyed their food and her new hit record on the speakers. Aurora's chest warmed with proud feelings, not because of her songs, which were mostly embarrassing, but for her man. Her husband.

The applause started to spread out through the restaurant with whistles and cheers. It was obvious what was happening to Aurora's left, where the entrance to the kitchen was. Aurora's cheeks heated up when she looked at Bill. She felt newly in love when she looked at him in his black chef jacket. He was so handsome, his forehead lightly glistening with sweat and his hair messy. His cheeks were slightly pink from the warmth in the kitchen, and his eyes sparkled with joy. Aurora’s eyes also sparkled, but by seeing him like that, she unconsciously laid her hands on her cheeks to hide her blush, but it was in vain because no one missed her reaction, not Bill's either, when he looked at her lovingly with a small laugh.

Bill didn't know what he was most proud of at that moment, his restaurant or Aurora. He heard her music and was reminded of her hard work, their own label, but mostly their family. How she had opened her heart for his three daughters and carried and nurtured their two kids, Isadora Li and Stellan. He had given up a relationship between them before they even had tried but she didn't give up, even if he had been a coward. He was proud of her in every way and grateful for how much she inspired him.

Next to Bill stood the head chef and the other owner, and they gave each other playful smiles while the restaurant, filled with their friends and family, cheered. Bill had started the restaurant together with a friend and together with the head chef, they had created the menu. All of that while being a great dad, a loving husband, and continuing his acting career. He was proud of himself, too. He had always seen himself as a daring person but after all he and Aurora had been through, it felt like nothing could stop him.

The other owner started to talk about their work to create the restaurant, the struggle they have had, and then thanked his family and friends. Bill looked at him while he talked, but when he got quiet, his eyes were drawn to his wife at once. He smiled, almost embarrassed, and looked down at the floor while stomping on the place. Several people started to cheer again for the couple's newly in love way but also because this was a big day for them in one more way.

“First of all, congratulations to us, babe. On our fifth wedding anniversary, I love you-,” he said, making a heavy exhalation and giving her a smile with shiny eyes because all words were too small to explain his love for her. “My one and only. Thank you for everything you give me, every day.”

Aurora dried her tears away with her napkin, but she laughed through her tears. Bill gave her a smile but then couldn't stop himself from running up to her in a silly manner and attacking her lips with his. Soft plump lips devoured her mouth, and she giggled through it. Bill smirked and then kissed her again. Again and again. Way too passionate for doing it in the presence of others, but that was their love.

Maybe too much, maybe too cute, maybe too loud. Bigger than everything.

×

[gingerylangylang1979]

How Colorism fuels BW/WM swirls in media

I guess this is maybe a counterpoint/companion post to this one and the dialogue started with @theonlyamazingtazmin in the comments.

That post was an ask that black women set personal boundaries around how the ship and media about the ship is effecting our well being. But an equally important conversation is why do we so often have to look to interracial couples for a well written romance for dark skinned black women. While I'm cautious about the level in investment in these pairings, I cannot deny the appeal and why it's almost a default because of how much romance for dark skinned black woman is gate kept.

My initial remedy to this frustration of how we attach ourselves to this pairing was, we need to watch and support black romance and and black tv shows and movies. But a lot of the problem is in doing just that. I watched mostly black shows in my youth and the pattern was already established of me always seeing the dark skin woman alone or butch while the lighter girls had their pick.

My favorite show as a teen was A Different World. And as ground breaking as that show was in many respects I do have to call out the paradigm it reinforced. Dwayne was obsessed with Whitley, the whitest looking woman shown on campus, and he was the darkest man shown on campus. Ron liked her best friend, Millie, a light skin girl, after that wasn't a thing it was like so crazy that he ended up with Jaleesa. His mom (the fab Patti LaBelle) kept telling him to get with the dark skinned girl with the pretty teeth, but it was like he resisted vehemently beforehand. He does, but then ends up with biracial Freddy and Jaleesa ends up with an old man and becomes a stepmom as her best option.

Back when I had HBO (I only pay for one subscription at a time and my current roommates decided to do the Disney+ package, but I only end up watching Hulu) I watched Insecure but didn't finish. I'm curious to see what happened romantically with the characters. Did they follow the same playbook? I don't want to be spoiled because I hope to continue that show one day, so please don't tell me. But I remember in the precursor to this show, Awkward Black Girl, Issa's love interest was a like pretty average, kinda lame white guy. Her black crush never panned out. I kind of rooted for her and white boy but like not that enthusiastically. I just wanted her to be loved, so tried to be into it, but honestly was like, is this her best option? I didn't finish because it frustrated me that he was her best option. Personal note: I need to finish an Issa Rae show.

Fast forward to literally as of yesterday. I started watching Queen Sugar (Hulu tries to represent black shows and movies but the selections aren't the best, if anyoen has recs, please share) because I said I want to watch more black entertainment like I did in my youth. The most recent try before this was Atlanta and I just wasn't impressed. Come to find out how douchey Donald Glover is about black women and got turned off. Anyways, I did get invested in QS after a few episodes and even cried. So what turned me off a bit and I hope doesn't put me off the show? Spoiler alert: The darkest woman, Nova, is a white cop's mistress. This isn't revealed right away. It opens with them having a sensual morning after but for some reason despite him being hot, I felt ick. Like, I predicted there was something ick coming, and sure enough she's the long term side piece. Her fine af dark skinned brother's ex is a light skinned woman and there seems to be a mild flirtation with his son's Latina teacher. The light skinned sister is married to a man about her skin tone. The aunt who is medium skin tone has a husband darker than her. So it kind of reinforced the colorism and that Nova's only option out of everyone else has to be a white man, and a white man that can't fully commit to her at that.

Now, let me jump back to why I got so invested in Richonne. I know some people probably like does this girl only hardcore ship traumatized curly haired blue eyed white men with dark skinned black women? Not intentionally, haha! But that was the most epic love story I've seen with a black woman who looks anything like me. I wasn't even expecting to ship anything on that bleak ass show. Not my fault. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough? But yeah, when I reached my adult years I kind of got tired of looking for the romance I wanted to see, that represented me, in black media and being disappointed. Because the dark skinned girls didn't get the same love as the lighter ones (or they are lesbians but that's a whole other post). I'm not saying white media isn't guilty. It's just white media when they tend to give a dark skinned black woman a romance it's with a white man if she isn't alone or a lesbian, just like black shows, but the romance tends to be deeper if it's main plot point, or at least that's what I see in Richonne and Carmy x Sydney.

I think there is a good and bad side to this. On one hand yes, give it to me. On the other is it only palatable for a dark skinned black woman to get love in a show with a mixed cast with a white man because there is still and aversion to black love for these women? It's so complex. This is why when I wrote my Syd and Carmy fic I intentionally made her ex a dark skinned black man. Carmy is mad jealous of him. It's not a real love triangle, he just frames it as one because he's insecure of her highly successful, young Idris Elba looking almost fiance, who her dad loves and is a family friend. So, of course Carmy is in his feelings. Although Syd dated white guys I didn't want the strongest competition to be another white guy. And I have Syd speak to the lameness of these other white men on purpose, on multiple occasions. She was always kind of chasing a Carmy replica but not because they were white, it's because he imprinted on her. But she chased trying to be with her ex just as hard, but for different reasons and in a different way.

Anyways, I don't even know what to expect from media at this point because often what we see onscreen does reflect reality. I'll describe myself. I'm a petite, slim curvy girl, cocoa complexion, kinky curly who often gets that "so pretty for a black girl" type compliment in the black community and from racist white people. My dating history has been mixed and mostly white (two Asians also in the mix) in my latter years by default. When I was in high school the few black boys (I went to a mostly white school) chased the white, Latina, or light skinned girls. And the few that were interested were not desirable trouble makers. One was so bad he verbally abused me in front of people consistently and then I found out he had a crush one me. No thanks, red flags galore. The first somewhat decent boy that was interested and actually knew me was my white boy best friend who tried to make a move one day. I wasn't interested, didn't see it coming, but it started a pattern. I just wanted to be his bestie because we were both film geeks, had family trauma, were loners, smoked weed, and were in theater together. It's so funny because he was a dead ringer for Leonardo Dicaprio and all the white girls swooned for him and I was like eh (never thought Leo was all that). So, no, I didn't view him as a prize romantically. But this same type thing continued with white guy friends secretly having a crush and me like not being that excited. But one day I did like one, gave it a try, and was like, ok cool, I can try this. And since then I get way more interest from white men than black men.

*Caveat, I'm currently single and don't think race has any influence on quality of men. My long term Asian ex was the worst boyfriend of my life and I'm still traumatized. Long story.

So should I be this surprised that media reflects my same experience? I don't know what the solution is going forward. Like, will media change and influence society or does society need to change to influence media?

[brainr0t-landfill]

🌇Push/Pull

gn! reader x Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

"The kindness of strangers and the strangeness of everyone I know has just fucked with my heart."

-Flower Face, Honey and Milk

(tw:co-depandancey, unhealthy relationship)

Kyle is watching you get ready. He's watching you put on his favourite shirt, the one that sticks to the shape of your waist, he watches as you sling on the belt that he likes to hook his finger between when his hands get sweaty from holding your waist, he watches you put on the sunscreen, the Chapstick he bought you, the same brand as his ex but different flavour, the flavour he revealed in licking off his lips in the afterglow of your quick, chaste kisses.

And he's seething.

"So Fiona introduced me to some folks and we're meeting at the park today-"

Well maybe seething isn't the right word, maybe off-put describes his feelings better, maybe saying he feels left out or underappreciateed is much more appropriate.

"-and she asked me again why you can't come and I told her-"

"I can't come because I'm still injured from the last misson love, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Right, that's what I told her and-"

It's not that he doesn't like you going out, he does! He likes to strut around his pretty baby, he glows whenever he gets to show you off to the friends and colleagues that he goes on and on to you about. Whenever they say as long as he's happy he smiles, leans down to kiss your cheek, he's happy he's so happy.

Happier than ever.

Or at least he used to be.

"-and she said we could just sit at a café and talk or do something else but I said-"

"You said I fucking hate coffee right? And that I don't want to be around your group of brain-dead, usless-"

He stops himself takes a deep breath that stings his ribs, forces his disdain down.

"-friends?"

You freeze hands on hold as their buttoning up your pants and he gets to drink in every little shift on your face, once upon a time he had an abundant source of them now he gets scraps.

He knows it's unfair, since most of them are his friends or people from his circle but he'd do anything to get some more of you.

"Something along those lines."

"That's my pretty baby."

Kyle met you in a small, underfunded museum.

As a British patriot he likes to stroll around, check out new art exhibits, museums, statues. He likes to keep his pointer finger on the pulse of things and luckily for him he found you there, tucked behind a birch desk eyes wet and reddened nose pinkish from cold like a little rabbit, shaking ,frozen fingers constantly tucking in your scarf that kept coming undone.

"So we're going to the park to see the new flowers set up-"

By then you were still fairly new to London, to it's frigid, charecteristic weather. 

Just a bleak foreign student trying to work and study but you were the most inept, socially incapable thing he'd ever seen.

Try as he might he could never picture you raising your hand in class, asking for notes or showing anyone but him around the displays he couldn't picture you anywhere else either, it was like they had placed you here then built the decaying museum around you.

"-then we're gonna go to that bookshop Mark's been going on and on about-"

You were stuttery, overly apologetic, the only attendant in a cramped museum where half the displays were badly kept and the rest were moldy due to the leaking roof but Kyle liked you, he liked the way you talked the way you gushed on and on about the exhibits in that fast paced, high pitched voice of yours like you were desperate for anyone to listen to you, like any attention shown to you, like you were desperate for anyone's light to stay on you long enough to warm your clammy skin.

He liked that. Like feeling important, big, sought after.

"-then we'll probably visit the mall where you first introduced me to them, since its the anniversary of our friendship and all!"

He cringes at the over-emotional sentiment.

Then you moved in with him, Kyle was used to living with someone he often boosted about his independencey but he had first moved out with his childhood sweetheart who he was sure he'd marry and then there had always been someone to keep the house alive when he was away working and you had easily filled that role.

"It's so nice being able to go out in public without feeling like I'm gonna heel over and die y'know?"

"Tell me about it."

You stayed inside most of the time but you did your best to contribute to rent and keep the house in order, you often cooked for him too and Kyle realized the whole bit about soldiers and the way to their hearts wasn't that far off. 

He doesn't remember when the two of you started dating it wasn't a big deal it was the natural conclusion of things, you moved from the floor mattress to the couch to his bed.

And he restocked his diwindling supply of condoms.

"Are you...mad? Kyle ,you know I can stay in if you don't wanna be alone or if this is bad day or-"

"Did I say that?"

You quickly went from being the tiniest, most pathetic thing he'd seen to being a inconsequential thing with benefits then before he knew it you were the thing that pulled him out of bed every morning, the thing that gave him purpose, kept him warm and full of hope like light crawling out from under a doorway. He associates you with warm bedsheets, the last candle during a power shortage, breakfast for dinner, home; he doesn't dare wonder what you associate him with.

Then your first panic attack happened.

"Did I say one bloody thing that even mildly implied that lovely?"

"Well no but-"

It had been a regular morning till he saw you curled into yourself in bed breathing heavily, eyes unfocussed.

 He hadn't even needed to ask what was wrong, he just wrapped his arms around you and pressed his nose to the side of your hair, breathes in the smell of your anxious sweat, listened to your sharp quick breaths.

He remembers feeling this intense sense of gratitude, of privilege. He was the only one that got to see these, got to see you. He was trusted, entitled. 

He was loved and loving.

"Then don't pull shit out your ass."

It was addictive, you were addictive.

Never before had he a lover so colorful, so twitchy and moist, you made life fun and he was cold when he met you.

He desperately wishes now that he had kept you to himself, that he hadn't introduced you to his friends ,his colleagues he hadn't wanted you to go on searching for new horizons he had just wanted to show off his perfect lover, his one in a thousand that followed him home.

"I-I know Kyle I'm sorry, I really am."

"I know you are, you always are, go hang out with your dumb mates, remember to pick up groceries on the way back, yeah? Miss your cooking."

"Oh already did yesterday, with Burns! Pasta dinner tonight?"

And now you're leaving him, leaving him sprawled and injured on the bed as you go on and expose his precious to other people, he tries to be happy for you and he is.

 He's happy that you're better , that you're back in the cycle of life, back in the crowd like any other civilian but what about him?

You bend down placing a hand on his chest as you press firm, sweet kisses all over his face starting from his brow and ending on his lips, no one reaches for him like you do, no one makes him as warm ad you, he's aware he only has a small pocket of light left before his vanity wears off.

He lays there soaking it in, you pull back too quick.

"I'll pick up our meds and some pesto for you while I'm out okay?"

He nods as he watches you leave but when he licks his lips it's not the familiar taste of artificiall cherry that he'd grown accustomed to, it's apple.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Can we have some more Jenova and Lucretia Yuri?

I felt inspired and needed to put this into an actual scene. Forgive any mistakes please, I didn't edit this aalskshsgskd

-

Lucrecia stood in front of her mirror, practically bare before her own reflection with only a sheer chemise covering her body. She traced her finger over her stomach, visible lines of concern etched on her face.

She was only in her first trimester, and yet, she was overthinking things already. A mixture of guilt and regret already began to sink its teeth into her peace of mind.

She could feel a small, minuscule bump already, a swollen spot that had not been there before. While she was assured that her stomach would only behind to show during her second trimester, this pregnancy was different.

"Fear not. Your body will change, but the discomfort only lasts nine months."

There was that insufferable voice again. Lucrecia rolled her eyes, letting her hand slip from her stomach as she turned toward the bathroom.

"You know full well it's not my body I'm worried about."

The voice hummed. "Is it the baby? Do not worry. I'm keeping our child safe."

Lucrecia snatched her toothbrush from the edge of the sink, glancing up at the mirror with a mix of fear and disdain. Sure enough, she was there again.

Jenova looked her most innocent when she was a hallucination. Her long, silver hair cascaded over one shoulder as she leaned against the doorway, an absolutely wretched smile playing on her lips as she balanced herself on one leg. She wore a chemise that was clearly meant to match Lucrecia's.

Lucrecia tried her best to ignore her, reaching for the toothpaste next. "It won't be your child."

Jenova arched a singular eyebrow. "Of course it will. My son, that is. You are having a boy."

Lucrecia spat out the toothpaste, gagging.

Jenova watched Lucrecia wash her mouth. "It's my first time being a parent too. I'm going to be a mother. Is that not an important title?" She laughed.

When Lucrecia quickly spun around, the apparition was no longer there. She groaned, punching the light switch before making her way back into her room.

But as she entered, she felt her muscles stiffen again as she became paralyzed in place. Her hallucination of Jenova was there, laying casually in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"You humans have a custom where you name your offspring." Jenova lifted her leg in the air, tracing circles with her foot. It was an image so innocent that one would've really mistaken her for a young woman. "So what shall we name him? Would you like to go over suggestions? I admit I'm not the most knowledgeable about human names. The Cetra had suitable ones though, from the time I—"

"We are going to do nothing," Lucrecia snapped as she stepped towards the bed. "You're going to go back inside my head where you belong. It isn't good for either of us if you keep showing up like you're....like you're...."

"Real?" Jenova suggested, letting her leg drop.

She smiled softly, in a way that made Lucrecia certain that the creature could read her every thought and decipher emotions that even she was unaware of. It was unsettling.

"I am real," Jenova said. "I am so real, in fact, that I could have impregnated you myself."

Lucrecia shook a chill that made her skin goose-flecked. Great. She was definitely blushing now.

"If only your pathetic excuse of a husband had known to inject you with my cells only and let me do the rest of the work." She hummed pensively, eying Lucrecia up in a way that made the scientist feel utterly naked.

"I've never done it before, of course. But I'm sure it would've been even more pleasurable than the way you humans copulate."

"Are you done?" Lucrecia folded her arms over her chest.

"No." Jenova rolled over on her side, bracing her head on her hand. "Where is your husband? Don't tell me you sleep in different rooms."

Lucrecia sighed, choosing not to respond. "Can we just—" She walked towards the bed, shooing Jenova to the other side, "—go to sleep? Please? If you're going to stay here, at least be quiet. I have work tomorrow."

Jenova's apparition shrugged, burrowing herself under the covers. "My kind does not require sleep to function."

Lucrecia shot her an incredulous look. "Ever?"

"We can choose to sleep, but it's purely a recreational activity."

Lucrecia did her best to push down the desire to prod Jenova more about her race. It was the researcher side of her that formulated a dozen questions she could ask, and it was the rational human side of her that shot down each one before they could reach her tongue.

"Then have fun with that recreational activity and go to sleep." Lucrecia reached over, turning off her lamp.

Jenova hummed. "Is that what you want of me?"

Lucrecia ignored the details that had her senses screaming at her—the weight of the second body vibrating on the bed next to her and Jenova's somehow sweet scent.

She groaned. "Yes."

There was a pause.

"Then I will do it," Jenova said. "For you."

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

9

And we're back to Nona, who's just waking up from a midday nap. Hence the dream.

Sixth skull - more Cam/Pal content? I hope so.

Anyway, they're not here to record what Nona remembers of her dream. Is she going to tell them when she gets home?

(It occurs to me, belatedly, that what Nona tells them is very different to what we're reading in John chapters. I assume there's a good reason for that.)

“What happened? When I talked on the radio?” Hot Sauce hesitated, then said: “The watcher took off.” “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Right?” “I need to investigate.”

The watcher heard what Nona was saying, without reading her lips, or reading her lips only in the few words before she covered her mouth; the most they could have gotten from this was Crown.

Someone from Blood of Eden seems likely. In which case, they're almost definitely watching Nona.

Unfortunately, these days if she said, “Cam, can’t we go swimming?” Cam would say, “Remember what happened the last time,” and won every argument that way. That was because what happened the last time was that Camilla had got sick, and less important, Nona had got shot.

Hey, that's not not important!

I assume the water's poisonous or radioactive which is why it's safe for Nona to swim but not Cam.

And that someone shot her because they don't want people in the water?

and her jandals, and then after masks were tied and hats put on they walked to the beach in the low dusk.

Jandals?

Jean sandals?

Lmao.

That was why Nona had always swum at dusk, because Cam said the jellyfish sting killed most people within minutes.

Ohhh, that's why - it's not the water that's poisonous.

Salt water had always relieved her: salt water made her feel as though, if there was someone in there with her, she would suddenly know the words to tell them everything.

Throwback to Harrow only being told secrets in salt water - the pool scene of GtN. Nona's dreams of being in water. Was Harrow's family tradition of only speaking secrets in water an Alecto thing? I'm so curious.

Anyway, I feel Nona here, I also love being in the water.

Camilla was crouched down, wiping her knives on one of their jackets. When she looked up, Nona was electrified. One of her eyes was a pale, pearlescent grey; the other one of her eyes was a deep, cool stone colour. Nona understood in a sudden shiver what she was looking at. “Stay calm,” said Camilla-and-Palamedes. “Five breaths, if you need it.”

So this is why Camilla had gotten sick; Pyrrha aluded to it in the conversation a few chapters ago. They can both be present at the same time, but not without a cost.

That was a tense little moment there!

The worst part was that the blood was coming from everywhere, with no wounds, or bullet holes, or stab marks. It was coming out of her skin.

Camilla-and-Palamedes did necromancy to incapacitate the people who cornered them, and Cam's body isn't designed to take that kind of strain. Terrifying.

“Hect, you’re not listening. It’s killing him too—” “It was good,” said Camilla, and her eyes closed. “It was good. We were happy.”

For just a moment, they were together again. Oh, this pains me.

“Here’s to Camilla Hect, yet another of devotion’s casualties,” and knocked back the glass. Then she said to the light, quite gently, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.”

Pyrrha is talking to the blue light as if it's a person...

I can't make much sense of what she's saying, though.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

And now before the Grand Finale, a mini post listing the odd shit my daughter says on a daily basis. Think Kids Say The Darndest Things then turn it up to....an eleven? Oh but I can't vouch for the stuff she said to Cole, or the stuff about monsters. Kids amiright? *opens another bottle of wine*

OUAT AU - Incorrect Quotes, Accurate Facts

Bella: *whilst at Cole's shop* Your husband is lost at sea somewhere.

Liane: Okay Bella what have I said? We don't assume people's sexualities or make vague threats.

Cole: *chuckles lightly* Oh its quite alright, Ms St James, I'm used to it. *waits for Liane to be out of earshot* Alright you listen here you little shit-

Erik: Morning Ms St James! Belladonna.

Liane: Morning Sherrif. Bella say hello.

Bella: It's impossible for pigs to look up at the sky.

Erik: I- what?

Bella: Good day. *walks off with Liane*

Erik: *the penny drops* Now wait!

*while babysitting*

Gia: But I'm not sleepy!

Bella: Georgina, it is a known fact that most people can fall asleep in around seven minutes. Besides if you don't close your eyes monsters might come in your bedroom.

George: M-monsters?

Bella: *pulls out her storybook* I'll show you....

Liane: *squeals from the bathroom*

Bella: Mom?

Liane: Spider in the sink! Spider in the sink!!!

Bella: *sighs and scoops it up into her hand* Mother one spider is nothing. In the course of an average lifetime, while sleeping you might eat around 70 assorted insects and 10 spiders, or more.

Liane: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

*whilst out shopping*

Liane: *looking for makeup* Do you want anything sweetie? A black eyeliner? A dark lipstick?

Bella: *nonchalantly* Some lipsticks contain fish scales.

Liane: Bella!

*whilst out for dinner with Ethan*

Ethan: So what are you learning in school these days?

Bella: Nothing of importance to you.

Ethan: Aw go on try me.

Bella: *looks him in the eye* A tiger not only has striped fur but also has striped skin underneath.

Ethan: *chokes on his food* That's...Nice honey.

Riley: *listening to music in headphones* Oh hey Bella, I'm just finishing my homework.

Bella: You know wearing headphones for as long as an hour can increase the bacteria in your ears by 700 times.

Riley: *can't hear* What?

Bella: Never mind.

Liane: Alright uh yeah I'll get that to you right away. Okay. *Bella walks by the door as Liane is talking to the Mayor*

Alex: Hello there, Belladonna. Any riveting facts today?

Bella: *dead-eyed glares at him* If you sneeze too hard you could fracture a rib.

Alex: *laughs uncertainly* Really?

Bella: Enjoy the flowers. *walks away*

Alex: Funny kid isn't she?

*at Cassie's house*

Cass: Sorry about the mess. Blanche (her cat) had a bit of an accident but I managed to clean it up.

Liane: Oh its okay, it looks fine to me.

Bella: Cat urine glows under a black light.

Cass: Right....*stirs her tea*

Kid: *flicks a rubber band at the back of her head and it snaps*

Bella: *turns around severely* Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated. *pulls out her own band*

Roch (the teacher): Bella no!

*out with Ethan, comes across Alex*

Alex: Ah our newcomer out on the town with his...darling daughter.

Ethan: Uh yeah she wanted to show me around.

Alex: *looks at Bella* What have you got for me today, little minx?

Bella: *looks directly at him* A shark is the only known fish that can blink with both eyes.

Alex: *blinks, trying not to drop his gaze* Excellent.

Liane: *after a big meal* Oof I don't think I can finish that, guess my eyes were bigger than my belly huh?

Bella: An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.

Liane: Fascinating.

Ethan: *sat there awkwardly*

Bella: But the giant squid has the largest eyes in the world.

Liane: Thanks for that honey. *sips her wine*

As long as she's not threatening people it's fine by me...

Do your kids say odd shit? @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @ask-missparker @askstevella

*all characters mentioned are original characters created by @jackiequick @gcthvile @blueboirick @luna-d-marsh and @missstrawbs2001 or are from Marvel media (Erik Lensherr)

[buttercuparry]

I know sometimes most of us are just playing around in the fandom without any insidious reason. Hell sometimes things are just a vision and we all want those visions to see the light of the day, and there truly isn't anything wrong with that! But if a fan of colour is commenting on your post about something that might be a concern of theirs and you know this concern is related to matter of fandom racism, I don't think they are doing so to personally attack you about something. And if it indeed does feel like a criticism and you know you didn't mean your art/post/whatever else to express any sort of discrimination, I think just talking about it simply can help clear things. You don't even need to go into an explanation. It's really that simple.

I know fandom can get heated and hell despite our best attempts, back and forth tangent of discourse happens. But the way the fandom treats fans of colour not just in the asoiaf side of tumblr but everywhere-it's a bit disheartening. You have people mocking a fan of colour in tags of a post and going "all this discourse for lily white starks". Well you all don't really listen or even acknowledge unless fans of colour are loud, do you? And when they do get loud, you all start having problems.

"Lily white starks" was the point of discourse. That's what many of us who are PoCs in the asoiaf fandom have been saying. They are all the most ashiest whites to have ever whited and race bending is cool as fuck but they aren't 90s animal cartoons where you have two cats having kittens and half of the litter has orange fur while the other half has brown fur. But somehow the character whom fanon deems to be "plain" ( never mind the text says the opposite), whose gender identity gets questioned every now and then ( even though in text they specifically state what they identify as), is drawn racially ambiguous while her siblings look like they don't even have a drop of melanin-you bet fans of colour are going to feel a type of way about this. And till now I haven't seen any major discussion regarding this, not even a peep of acknowledgement that it's a bit weird that the fanon trajectory where people shout "let (redacted) character be ugly" and then this (redacted) character and all who look like her is drawn with brown skin. But wait there's more! The "Helen" of asoiaf universe, even though is said to look like this (redacted) character is often argued to have looked nothing alike at all. So you see how all this shit evolved into the discourse under that art post right? Like it's not like this discontent was bred in a vacuum.

Even now when a new fan comes into asoiaf fandom, after a few months around they know what the dead ladies club is. Because it is that discussed and it should be because Grrm is shit like that. But dead ladies club evolved from being a genuine criticism to a championing a kind of womanhood that posits itself as the best of them all. And this mentality continues to this day and the race bending of certain houses comes from that. You have a fandom that dislikes one of the most important characters so much, that every thing they do is considered a devastation. This dislike is based on the fact that she doesn't really fit in with the kind of womanhood that's considered traditional. It has been literally witnessed how this character has changed the fantasy genre's notion of the "chosen one" but you have dudebros crying foul. And thus anything related to her is bashed more than it deserves to be and you have one of her deceased family members being presented as the devil incarnate. The woman this dead man has supposedly wronged is suddenly a woc, and the whole of the kingdom she belonged to is also a representation of poc culture in fanon?? Like do you see how exploitative this is? And then to further drive in the notion of evil, there came the dominant headcanon where one of the most priviledged and bloody houses in the fictional asoiaf universe is made analogous to real world indigenous pocs who are still fighting for their rights in their own country. It cannot get more batshit insane than that.

I genuinely believe that certain characters were initially drawn in darker shades out of a personal artistic vision. But then this got twisted by the fandom at large to suit their supposed intellectual narrative and bnf artists just simply followed the trend never questioning anything and years and years of this practice got cemented as natural and canon. Never was it questioned why a character ( and all who look like her) who is falsely fanonized as violent and ugly is drawn shades darker and why another character of whom we know nothing of but how violently she met her end is also a woc.

The most recent discourse that happened under the post carries a weight of this particular fandom history. I know there's artistic vision to consider which is why I personally try not to criticize an artist on their own post. This is also a fanart, something given to the fandom freely and I am of the opinion that if it cannot be celebrated then it should just be left alone. But what got to me was that how it felt like through the response there was this tone of trying to turn the tables on the fan of colour who commented. Like the sarcastic commentary on how there is an insistence on Valyrians being whitest white...like dude...hello?? Pretty sure this is on grrm and do you really think this person who is actively frustrated at the racist caricature would mind genuine attempt at being inclusive?! Like I have seen you around, I have enjoyed your posts, I think I even saw you under posts which criticized these particular trends while drawing certain Stark siblings, are you really going to pretend you don't know where the comments came from???

There is also the pointing towards how fandom casts all of dorne as poc and I think we have already established that this fandom is shit. Like I won't lie I enjoy my guilty pleasure of looking at Bollywood gifs representing Dorne, and I think there is this headcanony idea that Dorne is based on North Indian hindu hindi speaking culture. But in same post representing a particular house through this Hindu Hindi speaking culture you have the gifmaker using gifs of the Islamic hajj!!! Like ajaldleryjdlsldldlfg the headcanon then is the idea of amalgating brown bodies and meshing them in homogeneity because that's what we are all over the world right? 😂😂😂

Like I understand the frustration and you really got nothing to explain but it's trying to turn the tables for me (including calling a poc racist when they themselves were trying to address a racist issue)

EDIT IMPORTANT:

I am making this post non reblogable because the assumption on the basis of which I made this post was wrong. The person I have been referencing is a artist of colour themselves- so the core idea of the post isn't applicable. However I still don't know or can't wrap my head around how someone got dog piled on for a comment, and got called a racist ( a poc themself), when they have been one of the primary voices who pointed out many of the racist issues in the fandom.

[unnervinglyferal]

One of the most uncomfortable things my brain has done has been getting attached to Mary. Like, Mary as in Mary the mother of Jesus. Not surprising but awkward for sure.

Mary is a big deal for mexicans. Regardless of anything, she is very important to our culture. Even the most brutal cartel or gang members will lower their heads and cross themselves in humility to the holy image of her. Taxi drivers hang rosaries (long bead artifacts with an amazing amount of technical specifications behind them that are meant to guide prayers towards Mary) on their mirrors to feel protection, and it's not badly viewed for people to wear rosaries as collars either. She's on the murals. She was our first ever flag. There's even one very very specific holiday we have for her, can't say I've ever celebrated it, but here in the small town where I live, people light fireworks everywhere and it's this big ass loud and happy celebration. Originally brought by colonizers to replace the goddess Tonantzin, the image of a brown skinned Mother Mary has become a symbol of and for our people. Hell, half of our fucking female population is called Maria Guadalupe (Lupe, for short) after her local name –Santa María Guadalupe. Don't even get me started on the advocations of the Virgin Mary, because theres like, A WHOLE ass different lore for that. Over here we have one called La Virgen del Pueblito (literally "The virgin from the small town").

Having said that, of course the jewish woman who accidentally recreated the fucking Pietá with the huge catholic dude with a saviour complex, as his side bled because he had a fucking nail stuck in there, WAS GOING to get attached to the jewish woman who is a LITERAL PART OF THE PIETÁ alongside THE VERY MAN MY EXBOYFRIEND WORSHIPPED and she birthed, as he also BLED FROM HIS SIDE, with NAILS stuck in his BUTCHERED HANDS.

Like, if you think about it, Mary also got ultra crucified for the sins of humanity inside of the christian lore. I do not believe this happened at all and I am not like, going to fucking convert to catholicism, but oh man. Oh man man man. Do I think of her often, with all these statues that mostly portray her in such a state of grief, looking up at the sky with hope on her big tender eyes full of tears, begging for mercy and forgiveness. Or with that compassionate soft gaze, meant to fall over the audience at the sanctuaries and parishes, filling all of their faithful spirits with motherly joy.

I do not have a mother, Feral. There's a warmth in that woman's eyes, some type of comprehension people often grow to find on their favourite characters or their favourite shows. I wouldn't say I believe in her as the holy mother of like, the almighty Christian Messiah or all that, but all I can think is "man, she's so me. Look at her, gifting herself to the christian Gxd, hoping her son will save the world as promised, knowing she will suffer but being so willing to do so for the sake of people that couldn't care any less".

I am and will always be jewish. As insufferable as it is, jews are my people and I wouldn't change that ever, it's my pride and joy to be a part of our tribe. But if I ever had to mutter a christian prayer, maybe I'd give one to her. Maybe I'd dedicate a rosary to my non religious, secular idea of her.

This is """problematic""" as fuck but this is what trauma does to a motherfucker. You cope the way you can and stick to it.

Any way to cope with being alive that doesn't cause physical injury is among the better ones, and being attached to something that's a huge part of the world you know isn't odd. You don't get to choose who your people are - in the sense of where you come from. But you do get to choose where you're going.

I've never met a catholic in real life. The christians here are lutherans, they don't believe in martyrdom or having sanctity or grace in suffering and sacrifice. In a way I sometimes wonder if they'd be more sympathetic to the suffering of others if they saw any value in it. Or even their own suffering. Languish, acceptance and embracing grief are more or less foreign concepts to them. They don't believe in saints, in Mary, or - no matter what they say - in a loving G-d.

Grief needs an outlet, some way for it to bleed out or it will fester. And not to sound messianic (fuck those clowns), but as much as we know of Jesus of Nazareth, he was still a jew, born of a jewish mother. All things considered, who else would you reasonably turn to?

[baggebythesea]

Princess Glimmer and the Day of Many Choices: Perfuma falls victim to hubris (31/?)

"Now we can finally get things done," Perfuma said with a content smile

"You have access to the power of the Heart of Etheria?" Shadow Weaver asked, a hungry edge to her voice.

"I do indeed," Perfumas said, and for a short moment First One's writing could be seen in her skin.

"And now you will destroy the Archnidian princess?" Shadow Weaver hopefully asked.

"Destroy?" Perfuma sniffed. "Why would I ever want to do that."

"Because she's currently attacking your romantic partner," Shadow Weaver pointed out. "Isn't that usually something that gets you princesses a bit miffed?"

"It's a tragedy when parents try to keep their children down," Perfuma agreed. She smiled, a confident smile. "Fortunately, it's a tragedy I can do something about, now."

"Mooooom," Scorpia wined, barely ducking a bolt of electricity from the older scorpion woman.

"Useless brat!" Scorptra yelled at her daughter. "I will teach you as lesson…"

Her voice trailed off as a gloved hand blocked the lighting bolt, as easily as if it had been a jet of water from a squirt gun.

"Violence is not a good motivator for children," Perfuma said with cold voice. "And Scorpia is a grown woman who is allowed to live her life as she please."

"BEGONE!" Scorpa's mother yelled. "Go back to Plumeria, little princess. Once I've beaten my daughter in shape, I'll make sure she conquers your home once and for all."Perfuma dressed in her noir dame evening wear from the episode Perils of Peekablue,

"But mom," Scorpia mumbled, looking at her claws. "I don't want to conquer anything. I just want everyone to be happy."

"SILENCE!" Scorptra yelled and unleashed another bolt of electricity, causing Scorpia to flinch.

"D'awwww, I'm just an old softie," Shadow Weaver lied. "Good parenting always makes me cry."

"Silence," Perfuma said over her shoulder. She returned her attention to the Scorpion women. "You can't coerce your daughter, least of all with violence."

"Yes I can," Scorptra said in surprise. "Why wouldn't I."

"You can't punish your child just because she doesn't conform to your perfect idea of her" Perfuma said, tone of voice more sharp.

"Of course I can," Scorptra said with Shadow Weaver nodding agree. "And I will do so until she does as she's told."

"Um, I won't do that, actually," Scorpia shyly said. "I know you're my mom and all, but I love Perfuma and I want to…"

"NO DAUGHTER OF MINE DATES A PLUMERIAN!" Scorptra yelled and threw a piece of debris large as a tank towards her daughter, causing Scorpia to hind behind her claws.

A plant tendril grew out of nowhere and grabbed the projectile, harmlessly putting it down.

"No," Perfuma said.

"YOU DON'T TELL ME HOW TO…" Scorptra begun, picking up another piece and throwing it right towards Perfuma. Again it was plucked from the air by a plant tendril, leaving Perfuma unharmed.

"No," she said again, cold and collected, walking closer.

"I'LL…" Scorptra begun, but before she had time to finish the sentence, she was wrapped in plant tendrils, completely unable to move as Perfuma closed the distance between them.

"You will listen," Perfuma said. "You may think your actions are justified by the potential good them will do your child, but that sort of thinking is actively harming the real foundation for a good mother/daughter relationship."

"I DON'T…" Scorptra begun, but a plant tendril clamped her mouth shut.

"I am not done," Perfuma went on. "Your child is not your property or investment to manage - it's a person. One of the most important persons in your life. And you are - potentially - one of the most important in her. You are not a manager. You are not an owner. You are a parent. Your job is not to coerce or control, even for what you think is Scorpia's best. Your job is to support. To encourage. To support growth." She smiled. "To love."

Scorptra had stopped struggling and was staring at Perfuma with wide eyes. Scorpia was also watching, mouth open.

"That you have been denied to be part of Scorpia's upbringing is cruel," Perfuma went on, giving Shadow Weaver a hard look. "But you have been given a chance now to reconnect. To forge a new kind of bond. That chance is entirely contingent on you approaching your daughter with respect. With an ironclad acceptance of her integrity. Then, and only then, can you build bridges. Then, and only then, can you and your daughter get the loving relationship you deserve."

Perfuma did a little gesture, and the vines that held Scorptra shrunk away. She looked Scorpia's mother in the eyes.

"Also, if you ever as much as think of hurting Scorpia, I will use you as fertiliser," she hissed.

"Scorpia!" Scorptra said, voice brimming with emotions. "Here I thought you were weak and useless, but then I found that you have submitted to a partner of superior strength. I can't imagine anything more romantic than that."

"Um, gosh, thanks, I guess…" Scorpia said, obviously very conflicted about how to feel.

"It's a start," Perfuma smugly said - body language and tone of voice not in any way denying the 'superior in strength' label. "I will leave the two of you to catch up while I sort out any other little hiccup that might need a helping hand."

She walked towards the door where Shadow Weaver watched her in silence, arms crossed.

"What?" Perfuma said, eyebrow raised.

"You can't be serious," Shadow Weaver said, clearly rolling her eyes behind her mask.

"And why wouldn't I be?" Perfuma primly asked, while behind them Scorpia and her mother awkwardly hugged.

"Because 'love' is a story told to little girls," Shadow Weaver said. "And you are a queen now. High time to leave the stories behind."

Perfuma gave her a disgruntled look, but quickly collected herself.

"I should not be surprised that you think of love in that way," she said in a superior manner.

"Meaning?" Shadow Weaver said.

"Meaning that love is built on the foundation of trust," Perfuma said. "Something you have shown preciously little of."

"'Trust'" is just another word for 'power balance'," Shadow Weaver replied, "something you'll find I have plenty of experience with.

"Trust is the opposite of power balance, actually" Perfuma shot back. "It's about moving outside of your zone of control. It's about willingly giving up power to others."

"Every time I've done so, it's ended badly," Shadow Weaver said, not completely able to hide her voice growing sharper. "Fatally, most of the time."

"Yes," Perfuma said with serene voice. "Trust and love takes work. Sometimes you get burned. Sometimes you have to build yourself up again. But here's the thing, Shadow Weaver."

"Yes?" Shadow Weaver said, despite herself listening carefully to every word.

"It's still worth it," Perfuma serenely said.

"Really?" Shadow Weaver asked, scorn dripping from her voice.

"Really," Perfuma confirmed.

"You think the 'power of love' could have defeated someone like Horde Prime?" Shadow Weaver scoffed.

"It did, quite famously," Perfuma retorted with a mischievous smile.

"I think you will find it was the magic of the Heart of Etheria that did the trick," Shadow Weaver drily commented.

"Unlocked, directed, facilitated and ultimately created by love," Perfuma immediately answered.

"You are really sure of this little thesis of yours," Shadow Weaver said, voice intrigued.

"Is there any reason I shouldn't be?" Perfuma asked.

"Care to put your conviction to the test?" Shadow Weaver hissed.

"What did you have in mind?" Perfuma asked.

"A little wager…" Shadow Weaver answered. "That whatever we find in Hordak's inner sanctum can't be solved by love."

"And what are we betting?" Perfuma confidently asked.

"If I win, you will grant me your powers," Shadow Weaver hissed.

"And if I win?" Perfuma asked, voice shivering slightly.

"I will admit that I was wrong," Shadow Weaver smoothly said. "That your philosophy is surperior to mine. That love really is the stronger force."

"Deal," Perfuma smirked.

They shook hands.

They entered Hordak's inner sanctum, where Glimmer, Adora and Catra had gone before them.

Perfuma drew in a sharp breath.

The portal was active, flickering with cold light. Catra and Adora huddled together, trembling in fear, with Glimmer standing protectively in front of them, both hands holding a pink force shield, her face a frozen mask of terror.

Framed by the portal stood a single person. A woman.

"Ah," Shadow Weaver said, not entirely able to keep the fear out of her voice. "That's who opened the portal. If you insist on solving this issue with 'the power of love', I suggest you do so quickly."

"Why, hello mommy," the woman by the portal hissed. "Į̶̢͈͎͖͌̊̊̍͐'̸̤̘̞̜̉̅̎͑̀ͅm̸̧̛͓̭̼̲̋̓͑͂ ̶̡̘̩̠̠̈͊͐̃͌ʜ̸̧͈̜̮͓̔̔̊̂̓ỏ̷̧̺̩͇̾̀͗͘ͅm̶̧̻̖̼̩̀̋̔̀̊ǝ̸̞̤̩̳̲̃́͊̈́̕.̸̝̯̪̮̔͆̿͆̕͜ "

Part 30 is here: https://www.tumblr.com/baggebythesea/726417163488018432/princess-glimmer-and-the-day-of-many-choices

[lookingforlia]

Demon Tsukishima

Part-1

Warnings : dark magick

She sat in the middle of a protection circle , muttering a chant quietly in her breathy tone . Drops of sweat run down the nape of her neck . A lit candle in her dark room lighting up her skin into a beautiful honey shade, she looked tired with the lack of sleep yet her eyes were decorated with pinkish eyebags .

The candle flickered.

"State your business ." A deep voice enteruppted the silence of the room . Ringing her off her guard as If a loud alarm has been set off. She squinted her eyes open glancing at the figure resting peacefully on the floor .

" Are you a demon ? "

"I'm pretty sure you called for one. "

She took a few seconds to register that in her mind as she stares at him in alarm and curiosity.

"I know I'm handsome but your silence is making me uncomfortable." He talked as if he was bored to even be in her presence. But of course she had no regards for it. Not when she finally summoned a demon .

She gulps unknowingly not really being able to form direct words she sits there gaping at the boy in silence .

They read into each other's eyes untill the awkwardness of the air turns into a strange comfort .

"You've never summoned one before ?" He inquired , shattering the peaceful silence between them making her realize she's been staring at him for a few seconds too long .

Too long for it to just be curiosity.

"No , this is my first time. " she replied . An amuse making it's way into her facial expressions.

"Yeah you're making that very obvious. " He makes another snarky remark without breaking the eye contact . It was a lie if he said he wasnt amused either . It's not everyday he meets a human who looks him in the eye .

"State your business ." He said , this time , voice turning the atmosphere of the room into a slightly colder one.

"I need you help ." She replies without delays . A certain desparation in her voice . And ofcourse it didn't go unnoticed by the demon boy .

"I hope you know the costs ." He hummns.

"I'm aware ." She replies instantly but then , hesitates before speaking again , " but can you do it ? "

A histericall laughter fills the room . "I am a demon , are you actually asking me that ? "

" I asked because it is something impossible ."

He stares at her for another few seconds trying to process her words . And suddenly it hits . " It's bringing back the dead isn't it ? "

She was speechless at his accuracy ." Yes ." She confirms . " But can you do that ? Is it possible ? "

Although his expressions changed he still covered a smirk , " What do you think ? "

"I think only god can do it , but , he hasn't been answering my prayers and cries . So I called for someone who might ."

Desperation ,

That's a very common trait of the people who usually make deals with the devil ,

They sell out their most important possession out of that desperation. And when they do it , they don't consider what they're loosing could also be very important .

Because when you posess something precious , you dont realize it's value until you loose it. And once do , it's most likely too late.

"You would have to pay a bigger prize ."

"It's my soul right ? . . I'm willing. " The words come out as a second nature .

It kinda takes the demon boy aback for a second because he's never met some so aware and still so willing to jump into the pits of fire by their own will. It's not brave , It's stupid , its impulsive , and they would regret it.

They always do.

"It might take a little bit more than your soul. " He pulls our a coin from his pockets playing with it on his fingers .

"What is that ? "

"Depends ," He mumbles . "On what's the most precious possession you have to offer."

She lets her mind wander for a moment for all the possible things she could value after throwing her life away. But there was nothing that came around her mind. Because she already threw her life away , what can still be precious to you when you know you're gonna extinct anyway . What could she still experience when she won't be even allowed to have it the moment she signs her life away ? Is there anything to loose ?

"I would do whatever you ask me to ," she declares ,

stupidly .

Again , giving herself up so easily .

The demon boy's lips curve upward ."So whom are we resurrecting? " He questions , still the coin between his fingers .

"Sugawara koushi . " The name bounces off her lips like a forgotten poem.

"Lost love ? " He chuckles mockingly the sound echoing from his throat .

He couldn't help but mock her , she's the stupidest type , the type to make disitions based on her emotions , native enough to let her emotions control her. Hurt her or ever kill her .

She was the type to sell her soul for others , selflessly , without thinking twice ,

And she was the type to regret it when the happy times return back into her life and tries to change the deal.

She was the type he hated the most.

"Ex boyfriend ? "

"No, we never dated , " she replies pausing a bit ."I never got the chance to tell him I loved him. "

"I would need his memories , " he speaks with a smirk painted in his face all the way up to his eyes.

"What ? "

"He wouldn't remember you , he wouldn't remember dying , as if the time went back , and he never met you , " the boy observed her reaction .

"It's okay , it's fine with me ." She looks up with her eyes stronger again . "It's fine as long as he's alive. " the desparation still ringing in her  voice .

"Alright then ," he tosses the coin in the air and it falls right into the plan of his hand . His eyes glows red , illuminating the dark room brighter than the candle itself .

" What is your name ? " He asked . his voice echoed off walls of the room .

"Ayla Hamasaki ." She spoke , knowing very well that whatever she was getting herself into is gonna be agonizing .

it was gonna be the end of her ,

And she knew that .

He hoped she did. 

"I'm Tsukishima kei . And I hope we have a fair deal now ."

Ayla looked death right in it's eyes as she bored into Kei's .

She was sure of herself.

Selflessly , something that should be stated as stupidness ,

She comfortablely held onto the newfound hope she met in the darkest pits of hell , intertwining fingers with death on the other hand.