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muffinsin · 4 months

Note

Hi!

Imagine this: The reader works as a maid in the castle and lately has been receiving these unsigned letters and gifts. How would the reader react to finding out that the Cassandra Dimitrescu was her secret admirer all along? How would Cassandra react to being found out?

(Bonus points if the reader finds out because the reader overheard Cassandra’s sisters teasing her or accidentally stumbled upon Cassandra in the process of writing another letter/preparing another gift).

-Touch-starved Anon (I decided to keep it cause it’s memorable to me now).

Hiiiii! Ohh yes, we love some pining Cassandra! :)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

It started, as most things with Cassandra, very intense

When one day you wake up screaming, a dead mouse dropped on your blankets, right by your legs

You kick it off immediately, your loud shriek alerting some of the maidens

Truly, they probably assume you have been caught and are being devoured

You cringe in disgust and worry at the dead animal now resting on your floor

At first, you believe it’s some sick and twisted prank

From the maidens?

You can’t be sure. Even they seem too human to do such a thing

This only leaves the other, inhuman inhabitants from the castle

Is this rat from the sisters?

Ah, but technically they aren’t allowed in the servant quarters- not that you would bet your life on this stopping them

But who?

You can’t imagine Lady Bela wastes her time on such pranks. She seems so…regal, like her mother

This only leaves the other two, the two younger sisters

The more unpredictable ones?

Yes, you doubt prim and proper Lady Bela would pull such a sick prank on you

Barely does she even interact with the staff

Cassandra and Daniela, however?

Quite possibly so.

You’re shook up and, with tears just barely not rolling down your cheeks, dispose of the “gift” found in your bed and thrown to your floor

You can only hope that whatever sister responsible, will lose interest in you soon enough

You know, after all, what it means to catch a sister’s eye

You know it means almost certain a couple missing limbs, if not death

Yet, more strange things seem to be happening over the course of a few weeks

You’re just finishing up scrubbing blood off a carpet in the main hall when suddenly, a crumbled piece of paper hits the back of your head

“Hey!”, you can’t help but automatically yell

You know, was it Lady Daniela, Cassandra or Bela who shot it, you’d be getting dragged in the basements just about now for your back talk

You look around, and find the hall completely empty, save for yourself

No maid is nearby, and no footsteps are heard

Upon uncurling the paper, you find text written on it, in messy, but admittedly cute-looking handwriting

“You’re pretty in certain angles x”

You frown at the slip of paper

You aren’t sure whether to feel flustered or offended, really

Still, you trace the messy handwriting on it

There’s smeared ink at some letters, and you can’t help but giggle- the o, u and a’s look so similar, you could easily mistake them for one another

The notes keep up

Often, you’re randomly shot by them, or they’re dropped someplace for you

Never do you see who writes them

Of course, you have a few maidens in mind

Yet, as you try to make advances through flirty words, they never seem interested

On the contrary, some even give you strange or even hateful looks

Oddly enough, these people begin disappearing more and more often around the castle

Then, of course, there are the gifts left out for you

It seems, the dead rat was only the start

Often you wake up to all kinds of gifts dropped at the side of your bed

It’s a little uncanny, the thought of someone being in your room while you are asleep, really

You ensure your door is locked, as is your window

Somehow, your secret admirer still finds a way inside

Then again, there are worse things to worry about at the castle

Thankfully, after a few scares of finding more rats and birds at your bed and window, the gifts become a little more- romantic, and less disturbing

Flowers, beautiful ones set down on your nightstand

Either a beautiful, large bouquet, or small single ones scattered in your bed

Then, one day you open the small, white box set on the foot of your bed, and gasp upon seeing what is inside of it

A beautiful, silver ring with a yellow gemstone in it

You hold it gently

You can tell, it’s probably worth more than your life and all your possessions

Yet-

You can’t bring yourself to sell it

You know, it would make plenty money for you to live comfortable

To not need to work at the castle

But…it’s a gift. A beautiful one at that

Therefore, you wear it proudly, and only hide it in your pocket when you are worried it could be dirtied

More gifts and note come your way

“You have nice skin”

“You smell well”

“The ring suits you perfectly”

“I like your eyes”

“Your hair is beautiful”

Necklaces and flowers

Pralines and fresh food no other maiden receives

You savor each taste

You can’t help but burn with curiosity- who is your secret admirer?

It seems, it’s almost time your questions are answered

When you are summoned to Cassandra’s room to clean, you feel shivers run down your spine

There is a certain, open secret at the castle. You know- maidens usually do not return from her room

Will you be the same?

You consider yourself lucky when you enter her room and find it empty

You gaze at the blood on the carpet and floor, the mess of papers and weapons dropped from her desk

The fireplace will also need to be lit, and her bed will need to be made

The floor is- easy enough

It’s a lot of blood, and hard work, that involves a lot of scrubbing

Still, you consider yourself lucky. Cassandra doesn’t seem in any rush to return to her room

Little do you know, the unusually shy woman’s heart is beating fast from the other side of the hall, adamant on avoiding you until you move from her room

You too, though, are in no rush

Her room is- comfortable, despite the blood and weapons, the trophies of animals hung on the walls

It’s warm, and quiet

You continue on with her bed, and savor the touch of her thick, heavy blankets

The sheets are soft, and the pillows large

Her bed is fit for a princess. You can’t help but smile at the thought- all sisters, it seems, are spoiled endlessly

You also can’t help but inhale the subtle scent surrounding her pillows

They smell of the woods, and of rich perfume

Yet, the smell is comforting, and doesn’t sting in your nose

With a blush covering your cheeks, you readjust her pillows and move on to her desk

You bend down to pick up some of the papers off the floor, yet find yourself with your arm frozen in the air and your fingers twitching slightly

You recognize the paper on the floor. The crumbled, partly ripped one. The light blue colour of it remains

It’s burned in your mind now

But- why would she have this? Have there been more notes? Did she take them before they could reach you?

But…it doesn’t explain the empty paper on her table and the pencils around it

Has…Cassandra been writing them?!

But surely not. Surely Cassandra Dimitrescu would not be interested in you…?

But, what if?

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out

“The ring looks suist suits you perfectly”

You can’t help but smile at the spelling mistake. It’s adorable, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips

You unfold another

“I hope you like the flowers. The flowers aren’t as pretty as you. You’re a flower”

You smile. She seems undecided with this one. It’s a little adorable, you can’t help this thought

You know, you shouldn’t think of someone as Cassandra Dimitrescu as cute, but…

The thought of her starting over her sentences, over and over again because she can’t settle on something

You can’t help but pocket this one, and dispose of the rest to clean

You know, it’s your task to clean her room. It doesn’t mean you can have a little fun though, now you know who your secret admirer is

With a small grin, you take a slip of paper and a pencil

“You’re beautiful, too”

You groan. This feels by far too lame, but you’ve already written it down

Still, you turn away. Very well, then. It will have to do

Days pass, and the notes keep on, as well as the gifts

Still, Cassandra won’t approach you directly

You grow impatient, almost

It seems, despite her Playgirl reputation, Cassandra is by far more hesitant and shy as it comes to proper courting

You don’t mind, now you know who your secret admirer is

Cassandra has no time to prepare herself when you knock on her door, and for a moment, shamefully considers acting as though she isn’t there

She curls the paper in her hand, having just been in the process of writing another note

Then, at last, she opens the door with a smirk that looks more confident than she feels

“My, what is the darkness bringing me this fine night”, she teases, her lean frame leaning against the doorway

You feel your breath hitch

From her notes, you expected a shy Cassandra. Not a fierce predator

“I-I got your notes”, you whisper

A flash of surprise crosses her face for a moment, and you’re granted to see the vulnerability in her eyes for merely a split second

Little enough that, had you blinked, you’d have missed it

Alas, you did not miss it

You figure, now or never

With confidence only the notes and the ring around your finger grant you, you push gently against her collarbone

Cassandra is visibly surprised by this, and allows you to push her backwards into the room

You try not to think of how dangerous this could bed should you be wrong. If she is not your secret admirer…

You try not to doubt yourself as you close the door behind you and look back into her slightly widened, surprised golden eyes

She seems like a deer caught in the headlights, too surprised by this maiden’s courage to function

You eagerly make use of this

“Did you get mine?”, you whisper back

She’s shocked, and gasps when you move closer to her and set your hand on her hip

She nods, shakily

You can’t help but think she’s adorable this way

For a moment, she shakes her head and stands straighter

A squeeze of her hip is enough to make her fall back into her rather submissive, curious state

“Did you like them? I liked yours a lot”, you ask, your words true

Yet, Cassandra doesn’t seem to feel like answering

She’s looking quite shocked, adorably so

As though she believed her attempt at flattering and wooing you wouldn’t lead to anything

You can’t help but take small advantage of this. You’re so curious about her

Cassandra tugs her arm for a moment as you grasp her hand, her eyes widening a little when you feel the paper underneath her fingers

Now you feel surprised, too

“I want to taste your lips”

You tilt your head a little, and she follows your movement. A small blush covers her cheeks, and her eyes don’t quite meet yours

You decide, now or never

“Ah~!”, she gasps when you grasp her lower back and pull her closer, her lips smudged against yours

It seems, this brings her back to what is happening

Her hands, having hovered in the air, now rest on your hips and pull you closer to her at last

You smile against her lips. You too, wanted to taste hers

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #touch starved anon

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ladyjaneasher-blog · 7 years

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Wait I'm sorry for being misinformed, but the info about Paul calling Yoko a jap tart is not true? From what i read he sent a letter to john (i think) saying this. So it's not true? (because thank god if it's not true)

it’s okay, anon. let me reiterate:

the full message – if you believe francie, that is – was “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit” and the full quote reads:

“John obviously loved Paul enough to let him run wild if it would help ease the tension Paul was creating in the studio and at home. Yoko could see it too.

But Paul was treating them like shit too. He even sent them a hate letter once, unsigned, typed. I brought it in with the morning mail. Paul put most of his fan mail in a big basket and let it sit for weeks, but John and Yoko opened every piece. When they go to the anonymous note, they looked puzzled, looking at each other with genuine pain in their eyes.

‘You and your Jap tart think you’re hot shit’, it said. John put it on the mantle, and in the afternoon, Paul hopped in, prancing much the same self-conscious way he did when we met.

‘Oh I just did that for a lark…’ he said in his most sugar-coated accent.

It was embarrassing. The three of us swiveled around, staring at him. You could see the pain in John. Yoko simply rose above it, feeling only sympathy for John. I was sad to see the Lennons go, even though it took the pressure off of Paul.”

putting aside that you can already read the clear bias between the lines, sometimes in other retellings of the story, it’s said to be a postcard and other times it’s a typewritten message left in an envelope. the discrepancies here alone should tell you something.

now, where does the claim come from? it comes from an ex-girlfriend of paul’s from the late 60s, who he has parted not on the best terms with: francie schwartz. francie wrote a book about her relationship with paul where francie claims that while john and yoko stayed at cavendish, they received a note saying “you and your jap tart think you’re hot shit”.

why is it bullshit? i have several points to make:

francie schwartz is one of the most unreliable sources in beatles history. ask any beatles researcher worth their salt on their opinion about francie and her book. what’s more important in this particular case: she relies almost exclusively on sensational claims to make her book body count (1972) more palatable and exciting to a general and broad public instead of actual proof. other such claims include paul having been sent love letters from brian; a claim just as insubstantial and without any actual tangible proof.

first off, to get a more personal picture of francie during the time she wrote and published her book you have to ackowledge her agenda as the scorned ex-lover as is evidenced by the book itself as it displays a great deal of vindictiveness towards paul. read body count and you’ll know what i mean. it’s absolutely vile in places.

second, the book was published in 1972 – when paul’s critical reputation was possibly at one of its lowest points – and it was published by none other than jann wenner’s rolling stone press, which very obviously chose john’s side in the john versus paul breakup era split and which back in the day had a lot of sway in the music industry. the magazine wasn’t yet the joke it was to become. something else that is interesting and slightly related: jann wenner. paul’s critical acclaim wasn’t at it lowest point because mccartney (the album) was years ahead in its day and the press just didn’t get it, but because wenner directly influenced his reviewers to slam paul for – as wenner saw it – breaking up the beatles. here’s the relevant quote:

“When I became record reviews editor, I made it clear to him after a few months — nobody had done the job before me — that the record review section was an independent republic within the country of Rolling Stone. That meant that nobody else could tell me what to review or what a writer could say. They could argue with me, but ultimately it was my decision. And that worked well. There was one incident where Paul McCartney makes his first solo record and people thought it was wonderful: this rough, homemade one-man-band album. It was accompanied by a press release, a self-interview, about why he no longer needed the Beatles and how little he thought of them … this real obnoxious statement, you know? I assigned it to a friend of mine, Langdon Winner, and Jann saw the piece and said: “We can’t run it this way — he’s just reviewing it as if it’s this nice little record. It’s not just a nice little record, it’s a statement and it’s taking place in a context that we know: it’s one person breaking up the band. This is what needs to be talked about.” I said I didn’t agree and “in any case it’s up to Langdon to say what he wants to say.” Jann said, “We have to talk about this.” So we went to dinner that night and spent three fucking hours arguing about this record review. Finally he convinced me. So I went over to Langdon’s and sat down with him and spent three more hours arguing with him until I convinced him! Now to me this was the essence of great editing, of how you put out a publication that is utterly honest. All that time spent over one 750 word review! And it was worth it.”

—Greil Marcus in conversation with Simon Reynolds,

Los Angeles Review of Books

there are other instances where wenner displays his clear bias against paul, which was especially rampant in the time where paul was hailed as the talentless and flighty hack who did nothing more than book the studio for the beatles and john as the deeply misunderstood true lyrical and musical genius behind the beatles. a narrative that was formed then and persists to this day.

third, a number of writers – including, disappointingly, doggett and carlin – have recounted the “jap tart” episode from paul to john and yoko as fact, but it’s NOT. it’s the unverified retrospective eyewitness testimony years after it happened of a very much biased, secondhand source. we’ve never seen evidence from anyone else that this event occurred. no picture, no copy, nothing. just like any other event francie “remembers”, if i might add. and since other private notes and copies from letters and even journals exist from other and more deeply involved with the beatles people, it is suspicious.

even during “lennon remembers” – also done with involvement from wenner – john himself admits that his examples of the others treating yoko badly in the studio or elsewhere come off as him being paranoid. if he had indeed a clear and very much damning example, such as this “jap tart” postcard or typewritten message or handwritten note, why didn’t he bring it up? or, more glaringly, yoko herself? when discussing why she and john left cavendish in philip norman’s paul bio, she doesn’t mention this incident at all. why didn’t either of them ever bring up this incident in all the years after it supposedly occurred?

it’s also important to point out that the narrative that paul was an absolute and continuous horror to john and yoko during the let it be era is just that: a narrative. let’s see what yoko has to say:

“After the initial embarrassment, then – um, now Paul is being very nice to me. He’s nice, and a – a very, um, str– on the level, straight sense. Like, um, whenever there’s something happening at Apple, he explains to me, as if I should know, [inaudible] and things like that. And also whenever there’s something like they need a light man or something like that, he asks me if I know of anybody in the art world, and things like that.

And like, um, I can see that he’s just now suddenly changing his attitude, like he’s being – he’s treating me with respect. Not because it’s me – but because I belong to John. I hope that’s what it is, because that would be nice. And I feel like he’s my younger brother or something like that. I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul.

And, um – and probably among those three people of George and Ringo and Paul, Paul is the only one that I can sort of feel the vibration [from]. Like, sort of sense it, you know, that something is among that. ‘Cause Ringo and George, I just can’t communicate. I mean, I’m sure that George and – I’m really sure that they’re both very nice people, but that’s not the point… I think that’s because being, uh, [because of John, Paul, and me] being air signs, like Libra, Gemini, and Aquarius.”

[x]

another point is the nature of the source itself: francie didn’t – at least as far as we know – write any of these instances down, be it in her diary, or even in a letter to her mother, with whom she stayed in contact during that time. all of which would have made the claim more credible, as those would have been never intended for public view and subsequent consumption as her book was.

she wrote them in her memoir, something she wanted people to buy, and there has been discussion that wenner encouraged her to promote the “sex and dissension” between paul and her and paul and the beatles in her work, because that’s what would sell and ensure publicity.

lasty, i’ve seen another valid point brought up: linguistics. “hot shit” is something that is more an americanism – francie is american – than something used in the late 60s by someone of liverpool descent.

tl;dr: francie’s claim is unfounded and to this very day has zero (0) proof to it.

i’ll include another good quote about the issue under a read more should you be interested.

While Erin toils in academia with an unusually heavy workload, I thought I would share another unpublished excerpt from The Historian And The Beatles regarding this now infamous statement attributed to Paul by his erstwhile lover, Francie Schwartz:

One example of Doggett’s occasional acceptance of unverified testimony as fact is his use of Francie Schwartz’s claim that the reason Lennon and Ono left McCartney’s London house (where they were temporarily staying) in Summer 1968 is because McCartney left the couple a postcard with the words “You and Your Jap Tart Think You’re Hot Shit” on it. Schwartz, McCartney’s girlfriend at the time, is the only source for this scene, (Body Count, 220) which, Doggett argues in both You Never Give Me Your Money and in a later interview with Oomska, initiated an irreparable wedge between Lennon and McCartney.

However, neither Lennon nor Ono ever mentioned this incident, even during Lennon Remembers, in which Lennon accuses the other Beatles of seriously mistreating Ono but also acknowledges that their offered examples of mistreatment are unconvincing: “Even when it’s written down, it’ll just look like I’m paranoid.” (Lennon Remembers, 44) Given that Schwartz portrays this incident as an extremely painful moment in Lennon’s relationship with McCartney, and that it directly led to Lennon and Ono departing Cavendish, it would presumably have been, for both Lennon and Ono, a particularly memorable moment. More, describing this incident would have heavily reinforced Lennon’s Lennon Remembers interview agenda to portray himself and Ono as victims of McCartney and the other Beatles. His failure to remember and recount the incident in this particular instance casts suspicions on the accuracy of Schwartz’s account.

While Garraghan declares that “the testimony of a single witness whose competence in every respect is above suspicion may be accepted as true,” (Garraghan, A Guide to Historical Method, 244) Schwartz does not qualify as a competent witness. Her brief relationship with McCartney ended badly when he told her to move out and Schwartz quickly sold articles about her time with McCartney to Rolling Stone and later produced a book, Body Count, in which Schwartz details the postcard scene. The Beatles Bibliography (which repeatedly discredits those pro-Lennon sources promoting the “Lennon Remembers” and Shout! versions of Beatles history) describes Body Count as “a travesty of a memoir,” in part because of its “self-serving and non-reflexive tone.” In credibility terms, Schwartz’s unverified eyewitness testimony is equal to that of the Apple Scruff claiming that Lennon once attempted to hit a pregnant Linda McCartney. While both Schwartz and the Apple Scruff’s claims are generally reinforced by circumstantial evidence (Schwartz by Beatles insider Derek Taylor’s claims that McCartney was sending him anonymous but ominous postcards in that same time period, the Scruff’s by Lennon’s admitted acts of occasional violence against women) Beatles writers who recount both scenes should explain that they are unverified testimony presented by an unreliable source.

Anyone still questioning whether Francie Schwartz is being truthful about the “jap tart” comment need only consider the point which Erin makes here: that J&Y would have been been screaming about this to the press to bolster their position that the rest of the band mistreated them/Yoko, had it been true. I would also add that the vernacular–calling something or someone “hot shit”– sounds far more American than late 60’s British. I think Schwartz gave herself away with that one.

I’m shocked that Doggett didn’t come up with those same, very simple observations.

What say ye, commentators?

(source)

i’ve also incorporated a lot of the points from the beatlesbible here.

#paul mccartney #yoko ono #john lennon #francie schwartz #text: asks #p: paul mccartney #p: francie schwartz #slurs cw #Anonymous

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vuulpecula · 11 months

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i unironically adore how many verses you have, your blog is /so neat/, i am vibrating in excitement from afar <3

WHOEVER SENT THIS, COME TO ME, COME TO ME AND WE WILL CREATE MORE VERSES TO ADD TO THAT INCREDIBLY LONG LIST !!

on a serious note, this really made my week. i've just been periodically opening the app just to re-read it. thank you for sending this, friend <3 <3 <3

#x | alright alright alright ( OOC. )#x | burning the letters ( ANSWERED. )#x | unsigned letters ( ANON. )#x | positivity.

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vuulpecula · 7 months

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♕∞

anonymous or not impressions ↳ ♕ I’m impressed with your writing! & ∞ I hope we write for a really long time!

✖ *squints* whoever this is i'm gonna bet a million doll hairs that i'm just as impressed with your writing & i am so so sorry to break this to you, but, YOU CAN'T GET RID OF ME, NO RETURNS, WE MUST WRITE TOGETHER FOREVER !!!

#x | burning the letters ( ANSWERED. )#x | unsigned letters ( ANON. )#x | you’re never too important to be nice to people ( POSITIVITY. )

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymous inquired: ₪ ▲ ♕ ♨︎

anonymous ( or not! ) impressions → ₪ I still haven’t had the courage to send you an ask/reach out to you. → ▲ I’ve heard good things about you. → ♕ I’m impressed with your writing! → ♨︎ you seem really chill and I can’t wait to start writing with you!

ahhhh! thank you, thank you, you’re too kind, anon! come to me, let me shower you in love and too many memes! i am, in fact, very chill -- until i get talking about things i love, muses included, and then i get super excitable and will probably make moodboards and send songs ( or think long and hard about sending them and then chicken out bc i am a shy bby lol ), but if that sounds good to you, come on in! & if you still feel like you’re courage isn’t quite up there yet, you can always hit the heart on my meme call and i’ll do the reaching out bit! <3 i can’t wait to interact more! <3

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ thank you thank you thank you <3 <3 <3 ]#[ come to me my buddy my pal ]#x | i am a writer a writer of fictions ( ooc. )

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymous inquired: aubergine

colorful headcanons | accepting → aubergine: does your muse prefer the day, or are they more of a night-owl?

A mixture, I suppose, or rather, Fox is an early morning person! Specifically the period of day when the sky is still dark for an hour or so until sunlight slowly bleeds in color. It is the start of a new day, a beginning of sorts, and that is the time she feels most awake and excited about life. A time where the moon and stars may still hang in the sky even as the sun rises. The best of both worlds, essentially. She doesn’t particularly feel one way or another about daytime when the clock ticks past 12:00 p.m. though she does try not to stay up too late. Not because she does not enjoy the night ( my sweet girl LOVES the stars, after all! ), but because at night the darkness tends to seep in easier. The day is at it’s end, she’d much rather live in the beginning!

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ thank u for sending this one in! ]#x | it takes guts to be gentle and kind ( HEADCANON. )#x | i'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife ( about. )#x | i'm not living i'm just killing time ( queue. )

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymous inquired: reddish brass

colorful headcanons | accepting → reddish brown: how likely is your muse to step up and take the role of a leader? are they willing to take the challenge, or are they more apt to being a follower?

I would say fairly likely. Though being a leader is not necessarily a goal, per say, Fox is unafraid to step into a position of power if it gives her a chance to better help those around her. That being said, it can be a tricky position for her to be in due to her need to keep everyone as safe as possible. She’d much rather take care of things herself than send out those beneath her. As a leader, it gives her the ability to do this very easily! She dives into challenges, works hard to always do the right thing, and will not hesitate to put her life on the line if it means others get to live.

However, she has no issue sliding into the role as a follower either. I suppose you could say she is flexible, but the same emotions apply. She purposely tries to take on the tasks that are more dangerous or things that will alleviate pressure from the leader’s shoulders. As a follower, I would not categorize her as someone who follows blindly, but rather someone who believes in a cause and does anything and everything she can to help.

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ thank u for sending this in!! ]#x | it takes guts to be gentle and kind ( HEADCANON. )#x | i'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife ( about. )#[ basically she wants to keep everyone safe no matter the position she is in ]#[ :') ]#x | i'm not living i'm just killing time ( queue. )

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymous inquired: are you and rex a thing? i can't tell

👀 first and foremost i would like to say thank you for sending this in! i’m working under the assumption that you have read the threads i have with @jaigcaptain going at the moment, which tbh is blowing my mind lol so thank you for being a fan??? or i guess, a reader is a more accurate term! i know we’re having a blast getting to delve into some really fun situations, so it’s cool knowing that someone else is along for the journey as well! now on to the answer →

👀 👀 👀 *cracks knuckles* alright, due to the ambiguity and nature of this question, i will be answering ooc for a couple of different reasons. one of those reasons is due to the broad connotations of ‘a thing’. when reading this it is my assumption that ‘a thing’ is in reference to some sort of ship ( if i have gotten the meaning wrong, please do not hesitate to let me know! ). if we’re looking at what i will loosely describe as ‘historic pop culture’ typically someone asks “are you guys a thing” when wanting to know of a romantic relationship, just to explain my own thinking behind the subject. anyway, the short, simple, factual answer is no. at least in romantic terms, it isn’t something that JC and i have discussed thus far & i definitely do not want to jump the gun. is it a possibility? at this point, i think anything probably is, heck we have a completely nuts 7′ man terrorizing them, so what isn’t possible, you know what i’m saying? but no promises. HOWEVER, i can understand completely where this thought & lack of being able to tell for certain comes from and if i may elaborate further on the reasons behind it, maybe it might help? at least from the fox side of things!

1. they share rather iconic banter. it’s stimulating, it’s asking the tough questions and actually listening and actively thinking about the answers. it’s pushing each other, sometimes in a negative way, sometimes in a positive way, but it’s pushing. now, i hear what you’re saying: “but starbuck! that is the perfect setup for some angsty moments! there’s obviously chemistry!” yeah it is and there is, but do those moments need to be romantic? not necessarily. at the moment, how i interpret it is that there is an undercurrent of tension, tension that stems from whether or not to trust one another. we’re down to the bare bones of a foundation here! how can there be ~romance~ when they a) hardly know one another & b) are still unsure whether or not trust was the right choice to make. can it be the start of something? sure, but it could be the start of anything!

2. fox is a very, very empathetic being. her heart is soft, it loves too easily, it cares too deeply, there is no way to stop it ( i have tried lmao ). in a sense, she’s half in love with everyone and everything, might those emotions/thoughts be read more romantic than meant? absolutely! when she and rex first meet she already has preconceived ideas about him from things she has heard about the clone army, he is, in every sense, a potential enemy. but it’s his actions that convince her otherwise. by the time they interact with abal, in a way, she does love him as she likely loves the rest of his brothers. not necessarily in a romantic way, but in a way that says ‘your life is valuable to me, your life matters, i care about what happens to you & i will feel so guilty/angry if anything does‘. abal uses it against her because he KNOWS she will always care for others lives far more than she does her own. he knows, even if he is disgusted by it, that she will put a clone’s life ahead of her own -- despite their numbers, despite him being a clone, because to her, he is a person. a living, breathing entity with his own life in his lungs and the world would be less without him in it. ( do i have hella feelings about clones? yes, yes i do RIP my boys ). essentially, there is emotion there on fox’s side already. is it romantic, is it reciprocated, only time will tell! tune in next week for an all new episode! lmao jk i just really wanted to pretend to be a tv host. anyway, i think for her it is very possible to move from that ‘i care about you in this way’ to ‘i care about you in that way’, her heart is simply tender in that way, but for the moment, things are as they are and i’m enjoying it so much!

3. they’re at war. emotions and tensions are high. they might not live past tomorrow ( well, fox might not, we know rex does thank goodness! ). its very important to remember setting here! things may be said or done in desperation due to the feeling of time running out and they can be very easy to misinterpret! heck, even fox & rex may misinterpret them! we’re letting our muses flow through us during this trying time in their lives ( & probably torturing them more than we should, but heck i’m not sorry lmaoooo )

4. 👀 theoretically 👀 the playlists, the aesthetic posts, the complete next level trash that could come out of it would be CHAOTIC. i mean, i can p much promise they’ll already be chaotic, but y’all know what i mean. more chaotic.

i think that is....about it in regards to the threads and i know you didn’t ask for a book, i just have a lot of feelings about fox’s mentality and the extra SW planet JC and I have created! i hope that answered your question or at least clarified the things that might be picked up through reading! again, it isn’t really something we’ve discussed at present & I’m sure JC could add even more if you have more questions/ask! right now we’re just steeped in excitement and smiling devil emojis about this whole situation <3

also, just a pro-tip, a lot of people have their thoughts on shipping/clarifications in their rules! i’ll go ahead and link JC’s HERE and my own HERE. tbh that might clarify things further ;), especially JC’s!

anyway, thank you for sending this in!! i’m still so amazed we have a reader!!

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#jaigcaptain #[ i hope this made sense ]#[ i get over excited and go on tangents ]#[ sorry about any spelling errors lmao i'm too lazy to read through it ]#[ <3 ]#x | i am a writer a writer of fictions ( ooc. )#[ *blows a kiss to our 1 fan* ]

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymous inquired: hey, you write beautifully

random acts of kindness | we should all send people them!

*surprised pikachu* YOU GOT ME CRYIN IN THE CLUB THIS WAS SO SWEET TO SEE IN MY INBOX AND IT JUST MAKES ME WANNA CRY FOR REAL. BUT IN A GOOD WAY! i’ve definitely felt like i’ve been struggling recently when it comes to writing and just spitting out whatever my fried brain manages to sputter up, so the fact that someone has taken the time out of their day to send me this?? i can’t even tell you how much that means to me! i want YOU to know that you have all my love and i’m wishing you the most wonderful time and that life doesn’t hand you any stresses <3 <3 <3

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ i've been taking a break from writing ]#[ so the fact that i come back for like just a moment to post and i get THIS ]#[ i'm just so thankful ]#[ i'm also hoping to be back soon so we can always write together if you'd like anon!!! ]#x | i'm not living i'm just killing time ( queue. )#x | you're never too important to be nice to people ( POSITIVITY. )#x | keepsakes.

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vuulpecula · 4 years

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anonymouse inquired forever ago: ⚥ - … My muse’s sibling

send me a symbol and i will write a drabble about my muse from the point of view of... | accepting. ➝ ⚥ - my muse’s sibling.

"She has to be lying,” Kyla repeated for the seventh time since returning from her most recent bridal appointment. Her mother had accompanied her as she had for her last three marriages -- the fourth one’s the charm, right? “There I was, standing in the most gorgeous Olga Malyarova, a limited edition I might add, and she drops a bombshell like that on me?! Can you believe it, darling?”

“And what was this bombshell,” her fianceé sighed. A good two hours in and his soon to be wife hadn’t given him the slightest detail on what had thrown her into such a mood. By the way she tore through boxes of old photos and considering the conversation had to do with her mother, he figured it had to do with her mysterious family. Kyla paused in her search and recounted in shocking detail everything that had happened during her time at the bridal salon.

“You really should think about inviting your sister,” Nessa suggested after the first two dresses were declared solid no’s. She would not suggest the girl’s father be invited as well, her husband in name only. “But she’s always so sullen, mama, do you not remember my first wedding? She sulked around the whole evening and she looked like she was about to cry in every photo. I do not need that on my special day! The attention should be on me, not my sad, lonely sister. If she wants to come, she needs a brighter attitude -- it’s no wonder she hasn’t married yet.” Kyla tossed a perfectly curled tress of hair over her shoulder, gazing at herself in the mirror. “Be nice,” her mother chided. Kyla did not miss the pill she snuck into her mouth soon after, swallowing it back with the complimentary champagne they were given. “Your sister has gone through a lot, it is hard for her to -- “ She swallowed her words as quickly as she had swallowed her pill. “She what, mama? I grew up with her, we both went through a lot. Papa was never the kind one,” there were more than a few times she received a hard slap upon her cheek for returning far past curfew. “I turned out just fine, what’s her excuse?” She was being hateful, she knew, but she wanted to manipulate her mother into speaking whatever clouded on her expression. What juicy family secrets she might’ve missed out on after leaving with her first husband. Nessa shook her head fiercely. “You do not know, Kyla, you do not know what your father was capable of.” “Oh, you mean the killing, the drugs, the guns? I was not so stupid back then, mama, I knew what papa did for a living. I knew where our money came from.” Nessa blanched. “You do not know what he did to your sister.” The whole repulsive truth came out, no matter how many little pills her mother swallowed nor how many times she pressed her lipsticked lips to the gold-rimmed champagne flute, it would not wash away the acidic taste in her mouth. Kyla gawked. She caused a scene. Demanding they leave immediately, terminating the time slot her future husband had paid handsomely for. She could not stand to be in the same room with her mother any longer, not with her lying through her teeth. The worst part was, Nessa looked like she actually believed the lies she was spewing.

“Are you so sure she was lying,” her fianceé questioned gently. Kyla found the pictures she was looking for. All faded shots from a life in Russia from various stages of childhood. Most were from before Fox was born, her mother obsessing over her first-born child. Near the bottom, though, they were all stuck together. She thumbed over one, peering at the two girls standing on a bridge overlooking the Neva.

“Of course, as depressing as Fox is now, she was always a happy kid. I don’t ever remember a time when she wasn’t laughing. I cannot believe that she would be living through what my mother has said and I would not have seen it -- she would’ve told me.” Yet, looking down at those two girls, her sister was not smiling. She moved to the next photo, no smile. Again and again and again she searched, but in every single photograph they had together, her sister was staring blankly at the camera. Even the shadow of a smile that sometimes appeared did not reach her eyes. Sad eyes. Lonely eyes. Helpless eyes.

Digging through the small pile, there was only one photo, a polaroid, that held Fox as the sole subject. Kyla had taken it herself on the day she left their family’s apartment. “Here, you see,” she exclaimed, but she did not move to show him. Instead, she stared and stared at the smile on her sister’s face. It was forced. She could almost feel the strain through the glossy surface. There were tears in her sister’s eyes and tracks down both her cheeks. It could not be true. This could not be the only evidence she had left.

“No, I remember taking her photo. I remember dressing her up, doing her makeup, we were laughing. She looked like an old film star, walking around in heels three times too big for her feet.” Those photos were missing from her collection. “I swear, I remember her happy, I remember her -- “ But she didn’t, not really.

“Our father, he was sick, he is sick,” why was she defending him? “He would not have done that,” the evidence was still in her hands. The bruises peeking out from clothes too loose for her too-thin frame. Her body language, standing just far enough away from everything and everyone that it could not touch her. Even with Kyla’s arms thrown around her, Fox seemed to shrink herself into the background, as if she did not want to be seen. As if she was ashamed.

“Mother’s memory is going, she’s been off for years -- it’s all those pills she takes.” Her mother had allegedly known and had done nothing for years. If it was true, she was just as much to blame, but it could not be true. “It cannot be true. I would’ve noticed, I would’ve seen...” Kyla thought hard to the years just before she left. There was a large gap between her and her sister, she was already blossoming into her early twenties when Fox had still not outgrown the gangliness of childhood. Fox did smile for her. She remembered her squealing with delight on their vacation to Lake Luga in the summer, she remembered her grinning around ice creams and freshly baked bread, her constant curiosity with the cosmetics that Kyla often brought home, the way her eyes glittered as she pulled out new dresses. She had chosen to remember those and to forget the others. When she had found her pulling splinters out of her knees and hadn’t thought to ask what had happened. When she had believed Fox’s doorknob excuse when her sister appeared with a black eye because she hadn’t cared enough to think otherwise. When she had watched their father twist Fox’s braid around his hand idly as she sat stock still waiting for the yank.

Kyla felt ill. It could not be true. She would not believe it could be true. The photographs were returned to their tomb and placed within the catacombs of her closet. Never again to be looked at. The damning evidence that proved her mother wasn’t lying.

#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#[ thank you to whoever sent this in! ]#[ i had a lot of fun writing kyla ]#[ especially in this formative moment ]#x | i don’t blame you for being you but you can’t blame me for hating it ( kyla. )#x | i sometimes wish i stayed inside my mother never to come out ( nessa. )#x | you're too old to be this shy he says to me so i stay the night ( alexei. )#x | you are not responsible for what was done to you as a defenseless child ( memories. )#x | you're screaming and cursing and angry and hurting me then smiling and crying apologizing ( family. )#abuse tw #child abuse tw #domestic abuse tw #general tw #ptsd tw #cptsd tw #mental illness tw #[ if i've forgotten any let me know ]#[ i left some parts v ambiguous so idk if i want to necessarily tag something that might not come through??? ]#depression tw

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vuulpecula · 5 years

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"Grief" -- paramounticebound :''''')

send ‘grief’ for a drabble about my muse grieving when yours has died | accepting | @paramounticebound

"Miss Alkaev,” there was no telling how long the officer had been speaking to her, what he’d said, what he’d asked. His words too muffled, like she was underwater and he wasn’t speaking loud enough to break through the surface. Like she was drowning. A hand settled upon her forearm, gentle, coaxing, far too motherly for an absent mother. Who had called her? Who had asked her to come to her daughter's side during the awful waiting period? Surely it hadn’t been Fox, she had no memory of calling. Then again, she had no memory of the day prior either, it was a million years ago. That very morning she had spoken to the man who laid nearly unrecognizable on the table in front of them, but that couldn’t be right, so much time had passed. Yet, she remembered the way her stomach twisted into knots after the line went dead, the overwhelming urge to contact him again and tell him to come home ignored. Was this her fault? Could she have stopped it? The knots still remained.

“There was nothing anyone could do,” the officer was speaking again, his gaze on the floor. This wasn’t the first time he’d given his speech, clinical words to try and help explain how an entire ship imploded and fell back into the atmosphere when there was no actual explanation yet. Oh, but she was one of the lucky ones, he was one of the lucky ones, for they found his body -- still intact, burned, broken, and lacerated, but intact. All they needed now was a positive identification from a family member. An archaic process, but one that their society just couldn’t let go of. Her brain kept snagging on that word. Family. There was no ring, nothing that legally tied them together, but she loved him. She loved him. Loved.

“Why don’t we give my daughter time alone with the body,” Nessa quipped, cutting off whatever useless apologies that officer was trying to get out. Had he lost anyone that day? Did she even care? As they left the room, the door made a final, deafening clang as it shut, and Fox found she hated herself for not caring about the others. It was selfish. Still, she just kept staring at the broken chest she had laid her head against hundreds of times. Holding her own breath as she waited for his. Just one, she told herself, if she saw just one sign that he was still alive then the identification wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t like the others. He could survive this. He had to.

A ticking clock filled the silence of the morgue, bouncing off the metallic walls. There were more body bags still zipped up waiting to be claimed scattered throughout. The lucky ones. Her fingers trembled, yet she did not move to touch him, to take his broken hand within her own. Looking between them, she felt brutally wrong within her own skin. Washed, scrubbed, not a mark upon her own hands save for faded scars whereas his... There were bones splintering out of skin unnaturally pale and marled with blood and soot. They no longer looked like hands. She could not touch them. She could not touch him. Instead, she continued to wait, filling her attention up with the constant ticking and not the horrible nightmare ahead of her. The world without the sound of his laughter, his stoic comments, the soft sounds when he slept. The longer she stayed, the longer she could keep from admitting the truth to herself. He wasn’t going to breathe again. No one could’ve survived the crash, there was nothing anyone could do. If she gave up waiting, if she looked away from his cracked ribs, if even for an instant, then she truly lost him forever.

After an hour they made her leave. The numbing bubble of water she had resided in since she had first heard of the accident, burst. Waves crashed, foaming, frothing with the swing of her arms, her legs, as she tried to keep herself with him. Shame boiled when her mother grabbed her arm and told her how she was acting like a child, that he was gone and they needed to let the next family identify their loved ones. There was too much saltwater inside of her, flowing from her eyes and streaming out her mouth in great, moaning sobs. Ringless fingers grasped at the metal slab and she begged him to breathe. Begged him to wake up, to come back, to prove to them he wasn’t gone. She became wild with grief as a pair of officers pulled her as gently as they could muster toward the door, her mother close behind looking rather humiliated and disappointed. And Fox trying to convince them that it wasn’t Khan on the table, that they had gotten it wrong, but the bloodwork, dental records, and what was left of the fingerprints didn’t lie.

There was a family waiting in the hallway beyond the door, they watched her with horrible pitying, wet eyes. Already red from trying as hard as she had to hold it together. It wasn’t fair. There was nothing anyone could’ve done. Her begging turned to agonizing moans, choking sobs, gasping for breath. Drowning again. Giving in to giving up. Choosing to leave herself with him as her physical body was hauled out the door. For that’s how it felt. Losing him felt like dying over and over and over again. With every beat of her own heart came another awful wave. Even as the door moved to swing shut and she swore, through tears, she swore she saw his chest rise.

#x | unsigned letters ( anon. )#x | burning the letters ( answered. )#[ lmao this is rude ]#[ what a way to come back ]#death tw #blood tw #morgue tw #accidental death tw #grief tw #paramounticebound #long post tw #x | drabbles.

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