#very interesting character very vile woman

[carefulfears]

what do you think mulder thinks of diana fowley after biogenesis through amor fati? i don't think we really see anything on screen/in text (though i think it says a lot that he didn't have much of a reaction when scully came to his apartment & instead focuses on scully & their relationship lol)

yeah there’s basically NOTHING in the text but tbh i think finding out for certain that she was working with CSM really kindaaaa snapped him out of some things…mulder doesn’t give a fuck what people do to him, obviously, but it’s a different thing entirely to find out that your ex is involved in something like that. like there are MILES from “my partner makes me feel like shit and is maybe pretty abusive” and “my partner is like 3rd on the call list of a eugenics group that treats women like test subjects”

like, scully was right, diana was monitoring MUFON women and collecting data on them. she was heading up the tests on cassandra. she probably knew the truth about samantha the whole time. just nasty nasty shit.

she’s the villain in the amor fati dream: the dismissive symbol of abandonment that offers another path.

one of the most interesting scenes of diana’s character to me, is in the sixth extinction, when she comes to see mulder in the hospital. and she knows what the effects of the artifact are, that he can hear what she’s thinking. that, therefore, he knows who she works for and what she’s doing. (imagine your ex-husband/wannabe boyfriend/obsession finds out you’re lying to him because he can read your mind….shit is crazy!)

and she tells him that she knows he knows. but that he also knows that she loves him.

and she does love him. there’s no reason to lie about that then, she knows he would be able to tell.

scully knows it without hearing it, that’s how she gets diana to save mulder’s life, ultimately. she comes to her and begs. tells her to please just think of him, who he is, who he was when she met him, who he is now. in the end, because of scully weaponizing how diana feels, diana can’t go through with it. she gives her life to help him.

diana seems to be one of those influences on mulder that’s only really all that significant when she’s close by. it’s like how all the tension in the beginning builds up to him getting in her car when she tells him to, leaving scully, when diana is there instructing him.

i think being able to know who she truly was and her true intentions and allegiances, prior to her death, really goes a long way in the way he responds to losing her.

don’t get me wrong, i think he’s upset. you can kind of see the shock cross his face when scully tells him. but he stays focused on his goal, which is to express to scully how important she is to him, in the wake of how discarded diana always made her feel.

mulder loved diana and grieves that she was killed, he doesn’t have it in him not to, but mostly he…wanted something from her, right? he wanted that approval and “affection” and to please her. he wanted her to believe him. the first thing that she says to disarm him (in the end) when she can tell he’s uneasy, is, “hey. i’m on your side.”

learning who she really is, it’s easier not to crave her approval so badly.

(this is the crux of amor fati’s “last temptation.” it’s diana saying: you’re childish. you are going to fail. your path is not your own. “you have to let go, fox.” and it’s scully countering: we need you. this is who you are.)

(it’s why he responds in the end by telling scully that it’s her that’s the voice of truth.)

and then in death, diana’s not…there for him to want anything from!! so it’s like, again, yeah he obviously feels the loss, this was someone who meant a lot to him for over a decade. but also it’s likeeeeee freeing in a way? it makes things simpler in a way? (he’s able to communicate all of that to scully instantly after hearing diana is gone, after over a year of the tension hanging around it)

if you asked him about diana now, or even a year later, i think he’d be like…damn that’s crazy! 😭😭 mulder doesn’t have an awful lot of object permanence you guys sjdjsjfj

when scully comes to tell mulder that diana was killed, and he says to her, “you were my friend, and you told me the truth,” the language matters so much. that’s what scully called diana, “i know she was your friend,” and he turns it back onto her. you were my friend. you told me the truth.

in my opinion, it’s not that he doesn’t love and grieve diana, but that there’s a freedom in knowing the truth. knowing who someone is, and their intentions. knowing who has your best interest at heart. knowing where you stand in the world, what you want to do.

that’s really what allows for the openness and lightness of s7, in the wake of diana’s absence. mulder’s always seeking, always learning.

#in a lot of ways diana knows mulder sooo well #like her mannerisms and every little word and phrase are so carefully chosen #like that moment in ‘the end’ when she says she’s on his side and takes his hand #her VERY first line on the show is telling a room full of people that she thinks mulder is right. that she believes him. #something she continues to enforce when she needs to #i was just looking at ‘the beginning’ and the way that when he kinda doesn’t trust her after she took over the x-files #and they find her outside #she says ‘fox. i’m going to get out of the car. i’m alone. alright?’ #like she communicates with him in a way where like….if she had good intentions it would be exactly how to help/calm him #but because she DOESNT it’s EXACTLY how to have him eating out of the palm of her hand #very interesting character very vile woman #anyway idk i think there’s something very ‘good for him!’ esque about how quickly he moves on from her 💀 #i think he’s able to for all the reasons i cited here about knowing what she’s doing and who she is #but mulder is sooooo easily wrapped up in trying to please someone or trying to help someone and getting in a shit situation #and that controls so much of their lives for so long #and i was trying to think about it and i feel like diana’s death kinda is the last time that he’s so trapped in that! #he still does it on a smaller extent ofc but it’s less about the person more the situation after diana if i recall #asks #amor fati #diana

[thewitchqueenofharrenhal]

I do think it’s interesting that a lot of the criticism leveled at Alicent and her fans are summarized as she is “perfect victim who just cries prettily” that’s why you trad wives love her.

When in reality a lot of the hatred she faces as a character stems from the fact she stops being a perfect victim.

A lot of people who love and have empathy for Aemma Arryn despise Alicent Hightower. Despite the fact the two are essentially twin characters. Both child brides sold at the alter of House Targaryen supremacy. Both Aemma & Alicent are meant to serve Viserys and know their place. They are royal wombs meant to bring forth more Targaryen children. Their wants, their desires are meaningless. Their very lives forfeit.

For all the purported love Viserys claims to hold for Aemma he is awful to her both in book and show ensuring her early death by constant pregnancies starting when she is what? 12? 13?

It is not until she dies that she is revered as having done her duty well. As knowing her place. As having served well. She made the biggest sacrifice. She was a good Queen and a good woman just like Viserys’s own dead mother in childbirth Alyssa Targaryen. After all if Alyssa Targaryen’s biggest want was bringing forth sons for her brother. Why shouldn’t Aemma Arryn aspire the same?

We are informed very little about this young Queen Aemma who held a fantastic court. Told little if at all about her wants and desires. Compared to her grandmother Alysanne she is but a footnote.

That’s not to say she was, that’s not to say she didn’t matter. That is however the way the narrative frames her and that is what Alicent Hightower was supposed to be.

Except Alicent Hightower doesn’t die. Despite being a splendid Queen, despite doing her “duty”, despite “loving” Viserys and Rhaenyra. She is sidelined to the Queen who had the “good grace” to die in service to her husband.

It is once Alicent Hightower decides to stop “knowing her place” that she becomes a problem. She dares make herself and her name as important as the legendary royal house she was married into. She dares place her children above all. She is avaricious, reaching, usurping, entitled, conniving. So many negative words are leveled at her because she dared. She is a vile problem for all because she didn’t place the neck of her and children on the block and begged for mercy from the likes of Daemon Targaryen. Like she was supposed to - if she knew her place.

Forgive me if I don’t hate Alicent Hightower for bringing chaos on the House that was happy to rip Aemma apart and would have gladly done the same to her if given the chance.

#hotd #asoiaf #alicent hightower #was Alicent perfect #no #but i understand #her #same way I understand Rhaenyra #both make terrible decisions #but was the alternative

[t-tomuras]

Pairing: Khal Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: slight praise ( use of good girl ), slight impact play, hair pulling, reader has long-ish hair but type is non-descript, noncon -> dubcon, mentions of murder (unnamed characters), threats, creampie

Notes: Game of Thrones au-esque. Just a polished draft purge, very loose on the game of thrones like such basic knowledge.

You weren’t afraid of him, even as you’re dressed in sheer fabrics of pristine white instead of the tattered clothing you’d been found in, covered in the blood of your enemies as you’d felled them all in a circle of carnage around you. Adorned in delicate gold chains instead of protective iron but your hair is still done in its signature braid, even if it’s intricately decorated now as well. 

The women who dressed and preened you advised otherwise, that the braid meant something different to the Dothraki; as if you didn’t understand that well. You wore your braid because you were a warrior yourself, undefeated. A woman that would sooner rip a man’s throat out with her teeth than submit for her life. Even delicate creatures become violent when backed into a corner. 

And the Khal would not be receiving some broodmare, whether he believed so or otherwise. You were someone to be earned, not that you figured the commander of a horde that burned down your village and captured you would be able to. 

He likes you though, obviously enough, sees the fire in your eyes accompanied by the thinly veiled sneer and barely there crease in your brow as you fight the furrow. You spit at the smug smirk he gives following his nod when he turns to the bloodriders on his heels, chuckling even as he dismisses them and advances on you. 

You were offered as a spoil, lessened to that of some prize to a conqueror; a man with grandiose dreams, believed to be the stallion that mounts the world but so far he’s only interested in mounting you. He was no better than any other man you’d ever met, built the same as the few you’d allowed to warm your bed.

He circles you now like you’re prey he’s cornered, smirking when the vile scowl on your features never wavers. Following his movements with your eyes and only turning your head when he moves behind you before his broad palm wraps around your upper arm.  

Katsuki only manages one sharp tug, making you stumble for only a moment as you growl. Infuriated by the mocking bark of laughter he emits, delighting in your fury. But, when he looks at you again you push all of the saliva to pool at the tip of your tongue before forcing it forward, letting the glob land on his cheek and further ruin the smeared ceremonial paint. 

You’re ready for a fight, for the seemingly assured retaliation to the insult but still the smirk on his face only splits into a broad grin before he erupts into a hearty laugh. You’re audacious, spirited to say the least and if he didn’t fully believe you’d single-handedly taken down a few of his riders before he could certainly see it now. 

And it makes his cock swell, throb needily as it tents the loose fabric of Katsuki’s pants before he’s wrenching you towards his tent at the center of their camp. Your struggling is no issue, easy for him to drag your feet in the loose sand and gravel as you try to dig them in for purchase but it only prolongs the inevitable. 

He shoves you unceremoniously to the small gathering of pelts and pillows amassed to form a makeshift bed the moment you’re both passed the privacy flap of fabric. 

“I like them when they fight,” rugged Dothraki dialect growled into your ear, bunching the fragile material you’d been presented in while you writhe, some of the stitchings popping and tearing from the force of both movements. Kicking out, the heel of your foot manages to make contact with his crotch, but he’s hardly fazed save for a sudden exhale and growing snarl. 

A snarl that becomes manic when he takes hold of your forearm and twists it behind your back, effectively pinning you. Quelling the fight easily though you still squirm, infuriating you with his taunt as he exposes your cunt to his hungry gaze, “keep wiggling yer ass.”

You thrash uselessly, sliding on the furs until you’re flat on your stomach but Katsuki rectifies the position easily. Pulling your hip back up with one arm before returning to push down his bottoms, heavy cock springing free and bobbing with the weight of it. Prodding toyingly at your backside, beading precum smearing against the underside of your asscheek followed by your inner thigh before he aligns himself with your slit. 

“Good girl,” he groans appreciatively in the common tongue when you clench your legs tightly, giving him a decent squeeze as he ruts along your folds. Cursing your body for its response, sighing exasperatedly as sticky sounds begin to grow in volume, “knew you’d like it rough.” 

All you can do is grit your teeth, hiding your face as he coats himself just enough before feeling him nudge at your entrance. One, two testing prods before Katsuki stretches you gradually, but only for the thick tip. Sinking in impatiently the moment he really gets a feel of your divine heat and you’re thankful the cocky brute can’t see the slight roll to your eyes or curl of your toes at the feel of him. 

You opt to just grit and bear it, turning your head in your folded arm to glare at him from the corner of your eye. Katsuki catches your gaze instantly, smirk growing as he sets his pace. Pelvis slapping against your backside with each thrust and you turn to face forward after he releases your arm. Bringing it forward to let it rest and the throbbing pain from being held firmly behind you to ebb but you’re only given a minute of reprieve. 

It seems the great Khal isn’t interested in letting you just lie there until he is done. What was the fun in that? None to be had if he didn’t pull sweet sounds from you, noises he doesn’t intend to let you bite back in the slightest. You can hide from him but you can’t hide the way your walls flutter around his girth with each plunge, buried to the hilt each time in a way that had you biting your tongue to inhibit a moan. 

With a toothy grin and quirked brow, Katsuki leans forward, cockhead nudging at a sensitive patch as he nestled deeply with the movement. His hand pushes your thick braid to the side, over your shoulder so his chest is mostly flush to your back. Humid puffs of breath fanning over the shell of your ear and back of your neck distracting you from how he toys with the length of your woven hair. Stroking it carefully before twirling it to wrap around his palm once but you only register his, “don’t hide from me,” as if you were his willing lover and bride. 

“Repulsive pig,” you bite in his native tongue, imbuing as much animosity in your tone as you can despite the pleasure that builds in you.  

Katsuki leans back up, spine straight with that same insufferable smirk on his face, gaze never faltering under your glare before his features morph. The lazy look to him bleeds into something manic, like he’d just found his enemies weakness in the battlefield and perhaps that was true with what he does next. 

He moves his arm quickly, the winding of your braid wrapped twice around his fist as he pulls and forces your body upward. Arching as you’re forced into a new position and a throaty moan rips from your lips unbidden with how you feel him now. Cunt hugging his cock and squeezing as he holds you like this for a moment. Barking out a mean spirited laugh before he taunts, “Pretty pussy doesn’t find me so repulsive now does she? Fuck, you like that don’t ya? Course ya do, nothins better than a good fuck after killin a man.” 

Hissing through your pants as he angles his hips so each roll of his hips drives him perfectly into you to send waves of pleasure with each thrust. He pulls harder on your braid, worsening the already near painful arch and forcing your head back when he places a harsh slap to your ass. Lips to your ear as he firmly grasps your hip and pushes you into another of his pointed thrusts, “ain’t that right?” 

Your eyes roll at how well Katsuki fills you, how deep he reaches and perfectly he drags you to the edge of euphoria with each nudge of his fat tip to that patch within you. He’s merciful for only a moment whenever you hiss out a venomous, “yes.” Admitting to the enjoyment you took in stealing some of his men’s lives before ultimately overpowered. 

You fall forward, fisting the fine furs that the Khal now takes you on as the pleasure becomes too much. The coil in your lower belly wound tightly until you’re finally tipped over the edge with the final stroke that proves to be his own undoing as well. Pushing your face into the plush material from the force of his last rut, burying as deeply as he can into you as he paints your velvet walls in thick spurts. His pelvis flush with the curve of your ass before he slowly rocks you through the waves of euphoria, working you both down slowly. Thick digits massaging into your hips in a stark contrast to the rough coupling mere moments prior.

You roll to your back in the cushy pelts of Bakugou’s makeshift bedding after he pulls his softened cock from your abused cunt, panting for breath in your post ecstasy bliss. Head lolling lazily to the side opposite of where Katsuki now lays next to you, taking stock of the rest of his tent while he remains still. He only casts a curious glance in your direction when he sees you shift but lets his heavy lids slip shut. 

“Do you want to know what’s better than a good fuck, my Khal?” You keep your tone even as you turn to face him once again, sitting up as he merely hums in response. 

You’re on him in the next moment, knees digging aggressively into the crooks of his elbows to keep them pinned to the ground as you straddle his chest. Your fingers hold fast to the biting hilt of his versatile arakh, positioning it so the curve of the weapon rests along the slope of his throat with a delicate yet deadly poise. So close that the bob of his adams apple creates a tiny slit in his skin, warm crimson weeping from the wound as you grin down at the mighty man. 

“Freedom.”

#vixen drabbles #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #mha smut

[olderthannetfic]

My experience with shippers has been such a mixed bag.

Sometimes there are those "controversial fandom takes" threads and some comments go like this:

"Shippers are the worst. They only care about their romance and never talk about anything interesting in the story outside of that!"

Which will be responded to with either:

"There are lots of ways to enjoy content, mind your business!"

Or

"Shippers are the backbone of a fandom. We can discuss the intricacies of the work AND be horny at the same time!"

I'm sure that's true, but that was rarely how it went in the fandoms I was part of, unlucky bastard that I am. Out of the languages I can understand, I only saw a few times fans engaged in discussions about several topics concerning the show or the book. The rest were either quiet or balls-deep in messy shipping behaviour that is often criticised.

The irony is that it was always the shippers who got angry when people complained about them being "that kind of fan" who would engage in huge blown-out public arguments online. The last time I saw it happen, a group got super angry when a random person online, who none of them followed, criticised their favourite ship in the quotes of a tweet that wasn't theirs. It was a dumb criticism from a person who didn't understand the characters nor cared to understand the chemistry that fans of that ship see. Very stupid and, to me, easy to ignore. But the shippers got so angry that the fight spread outside of their bubble and more random people got involved. Eventually, their fight reached a big artist from that ship and that person shaded their holy war by saying: "I love [pairing] as much as you guys do, but fighting over this is so unnecessary. Ignore them and stop doing this shit! How tiring and boring that this always happens!" and it eventually stopped. Later, I caught one of them wondering if the artist was talking about them, afraid they would get blocked for bringing toxicity to the artist's page, which I found out is something that the artist does to curate their online experience. You know, like a sensible person.

I wish I could say they were teenagers, but they were between 22 to 29 years old.

And let's not talk about the civil wars. God forbid a ship be interpreted in a way that the others dislike, or explored in darker and more controversial themes!

I just can't wrap my head around the behaviour of getting into fights with strangers on twitter dot com or anywhere on the World Wide Web because someone out there said something stupid about a thing I like. Why do some people get so aggressively defensive rather than just blocking and moving on? Maybe throwing in a "spoken like a true tasteless bitch" if feeling particularly vexed?

I'll never say shippers are useless fans like some say, but they can be some of the most consistent shit-stirrers in fandoms. My biggest struggle with them is that the crazy shippers aren't vile in the same way that some fans can be when a black woman is cast for the role of a character that isn't black, for example. They are vile in the way that they will send death threats to the directors, the animators, and the actors if their ship isn't made canon by the end of the story.

At their best, shippers can be some of the most engaged and passionate fans anyone could have the pleasure to find in their fandom. But at their worst... man...

--

I'll eat my hat if like 90% of people reading here don't ship a bunch of ships.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda Under Cut

Zoe Murphy

People who ship Evan and Connor want to demonize her SO BAD. Like it is NOT her fault she's upset at her brother and having a hard time mourning the guy who was a dick to her - and this is as a Connor Murphy apologist. All the best Connor/Evan fics are where she and Connor slowly repair their relationship and he puts in the work

hey remember when ppl shipped evan with connor even though the WHOLE POINT of the show is that evan never actually knew connor and their entire "friendship" is an elaborate lie

She's the main love interest but people ship Evan with her dead brother so they make her into a jerk or a wingman and ignore the fact that the brother was abusive towards her

Gwen Cooper

she literally did nothing worse than the rest of the team yet so many people hate her guts and there is a literal gwen bashing tag for her on ao3. just cause she's a complicated character and confident and assertive and oh yeah she had sexual tension with jack harkness who ended up w ianto in the end. god forbid.

fans think she "gets in the way" of the canon m/m pairing of the series just because she has straightbait scenes with one of the two guys. when in reality she literally has a husband and has been nothing but supportive of her friends and their relationship 😭 she tends to be written as like super insensitive and spoiled and its unbearable 

An amazing, badass woman who has a complicated relationship with Jack Harkness, 1/2 of “Janto,” the ship she “gets in the way of.” People use this slight complication to decide they HATE HER and turn her into this vile, evil, vindictive person. She often tries killing Ianto (other half of “Janto”) in many poorly-written fics, simply so that everyone can realise how badly they treat poor, poor Ianto. This makes Jack fall harder in love with Ianto xoxo Mwuah Mwuah and Gwen is hated and killed. This occurrence is so common that it has its own tag on AO3: “Gwen Bashing.” The writing, again, is always very bad, and solely created to make people hate Gwen. She’s chill in the actual show though. Very supportive of the two men and their relationship, and is literally happily married. She is not at all like what people make her out to be.

#poll #round 1 #zoe murphy #dear evan hansen #gwen cooper #torchwood

[vexingwoman]

hello! i saw you mention whump. as a whump fan i can say that to me it doesn't really feel sexual, but that i am for some reason more attracted to a guy when he is hurt or abused. yeah it's fucked up but men watch porn of us getting hurt so idc!

Yes, I can see that whump content isn’t inherently sexual, but rather, it earned a slightly sexual reputation due to the fact that a disturbing number of whump themes are also bdsm themes. For instance, kidnapping, torture, being bound with ropes, being drugged, begging.

However, I don’t think women who consume whump content are comparable to men who consume bdsm pornography. (Neither do I believe women who consume whump content are inherently sick.) Besides the fact that whump is fiction and violent porn requires the actual brutalization of women, the reasons these two demographics are drawn to the kind of content they’re drawn to are completely different.

For many women who consume whump content, the appeal doesn’t seem to be the character’s suffering itself, but rather, how that character is subsequently comforted and coddled after he survives whatever horrible ordeal he’s put through. There are many posts like this in the whump community, where what is being romanticized is not the trauma, but the recovery or protection from that trauma:

That is the biggest difference between women who consume whump content and men who consume violent pornography—men who consume violent pornography are obviously not romanticizing the idea of comforting the women whose brutalization they just masturbated to. For men, the violence and suffering is the only appeal.

Of course, some women who consume whump content do seem to be more interested in the character’s suffering rather than his recovery. But even then, it’s clear that what they actually like is sympathizing for the character, pitying him, rooting for him, etc. This is evident in the way they talk about the characters whose suffering they’re invested in. For example, this is the most common meme/sentiment in the whump community:

These women actually love and adore the character’s whose suffering they romanticize, whereas men who consume violent pornography are extremely vocal about hating porn actresses. That is the other huge difference—women are drawn to the suffering of fictional characters because they adore them and enjoy sympathizing with them, and men are drawn to the suffering of porn actresses because they hate them and like seeing these women “get what they deserve.” Never have I seen a woman talk about a whump character in the same vile, sadistic, dehumanizing way that men talk about porn actresses.

Those are just my thoughts. The whump community is obviously highly questionable, and in my opinion, a very unhealthy coping mechanism. It needs to be further analyzed by radical feminists because there is so much internalized misogyny in these communities, which I briefly discuss here.

#terfblr #radical feminism #terfsafe #radblr #gender critical #radical feminist safe #misogny #sexism #trans logic #gender abolition #whump #whump community

[markantonys]

You know, considering the show only fans' reaction to the Seanchean, if they do put Mat and Tuon together, they're gonna have to give her and them a LOT and I mean A LOT of character development. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Tuon shows up already with thoughts and doubts about slavery. Cause there's simply no way people are gonna be okay with it.

yeah i really do not envy them having to figure out what to do here, because EVERYTHING about mat/tuon and about tuon as a character is a giant landmine. (even just with casting, because the Head Slaver being a black woman is 🥴 especially if we then get scenes of her having to be told by a white man that slavery is bad. but if you DON'T cast a black actor as tuon then you've whitewashed a book-canonically black character. tuon's character design is the kinda thing where rj was trying to go for a ~boundary-breaking role reversal~ but it just really isn't a good look, and i don't envy the show having to deal with his choices there.)

anyway, i'm really hoping for tuon to be introduced at least a season or two before she meets mat so that she can have some development before they even cross paths, let alone begin having romance. (similar to how elayne, aviendha, and min were all developed through non-rand characters this season, which was a great choice.) one idea i'm quite fond of* is tuon showing up in nynaeve and elayne's storyline in s3 in an egeanin-esque role (tho not exactly equivalent ofc given tuon's and egeanin's differences in status/life situation/etc), so then she unknowingly befriends and comes to respect 2 ~marath'damane~, thus she has to start rethinking some things about seanchan culture when she finds out her new buddies can channel. and in s4 maybe she can have some kind of invented plotline to keep her development moving along, and s5 might be the time for her to first meet mat, and they can spend seasons 6 AND 7 together with the romance being a very slow burn. if the show just has tuon show up in ebou dar straightaway with the initial invasion rather than in a second wave after mat's storyline's been left out of an entire book, then she can meet mat sooner and they can leave sooner and have more time to spend together.

rj could have pulled off mat/tuon if he'd introduced her way sooner and had left enough time for their relationship to develop naturally and for HER to develop naturally, rather than breaking mat's characterization to cram him into a rushed relationship it makes no sense for him to want to be part of at this point in time. in WH it really does feel like rj was planning a whole meaty character development arc for tuon, but then realized between books that he wasn't gonna have enough time for it in the main series and came up with the idea of the outriggers spinoff, and in COT suddenly we have tuon being a completely static character and mat replaced by a pod person who's obsessed with her and has completely changed his views on slavery.

but the show has the benefit of knowing the endpoint already, so hopefully they're already planning for how to make the mat/tuon romance feel more believable. i think the only 2 options are a) introduce tuon way earlier and give her a proper redemption arc, or b) make it a political marriage which mat is putting up with for the greater good but has 0 romantic interest in tuon. because yeah, mat falling in love with an unrepentant slaver would make him absolutely vile in the eyes of all viewers, especially after how hard the show went on showing the vileness of the seanchan in s2. show viewers will not have forgotten the torture egwene suffered by the time mat meets tuon as easily as so many book readers apparently did.

*i'm also very fond of the idea of tuon being introduced in seanchan proper because i spent the whole series expecting us to see seanchan proper and the court of the 9 moons etc and felt SO robbed that we never did, so i'd loooooove if the show took us there and had tuon leading a plotline there before she leaves for the westlands. but purely in terms of getting her to start rethinking the damane system early on, this scenario wouldn't be as useful as the one of her meeting nynaeve and elayne in the westlands.

and finally, it's very interesting that they killed off every single notable seanchan character from s2. this could mean that they didn't want to leave any loose ends because the seanchan will be entirely absent for the next season or two, ooooooooooooor it could mean that they wanted to clear the stage for tuon to step up as our major seanchan character in the next season or two.

#anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers #wot show spoilers

[littlejuicebox]

The sky responded, blue and silver bonded

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Chapter number: Five

Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, canon adjacent behavior, angst, feelings realization, trauma, the slighest of smuts in this one

Masterlist: Click here.

Song inspiration: "Blue and Silver" - Lower Dens

Notes: A little angsty, a little smutty. I'm obsessed with these two. I'm nervous to write a full out scene because I've never done one and the thought is terrifying to me. :)

Rating: Mature 18+

-----

It was evening when Astarion finally came out of his trance. His body was so tired, even after a full day of rest. He considered remaining in his tent until another merciful wave of sleep came to him, but the crackle of the campfire and its comforting glow lured the rogue from the confines of his tent. Everyone besides the little bird sat around the flame, all in various stages of their dinner, the distant sounds of bog creatures and the whimpers of a sleeping Scratch the only noise between them.

“How is she?” The pale-elf asked, his gut churning once again, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer. He settled on a stump next to Wyll, where Scratch lay sleeping between the two men, but his attention was focused on the Shar-worshipper.

Shadowheart eyed him cautiously on the other side of the flame. She took a slow deep breath, almost as if it were her final attempt to delay delivering any news to Astarion. The woman shook her head and let out the breath in a shudder as everyone else in the circle suddenly became very interested in their food.

“Not good. She’s concussed; she vomited twice and keeps calling for someone named Kol in her slumber.” Shadowheart gave a cough as her voice began to crack. “I think her right eye is…. unsalvageable and her left eye will take a few days to heal. The confuson will be there for a few days, as well.”

All at once, Astarion felt as if he’d been the one stabbed by the Gur; he was greeted by another vile churn of his now-empty stomach. The silence of his campmates set him on edge -- 'How is nobody concerned by this?' -- and he snapped, unable to contain his frustration any longer and tongue lashing out to wound the messenger.

“What do you mean you can’t save her eye?! You aren’t trying hard enough, Shadowheart! Some god forsaken cleric you are… or are your tales of Shar’s power actually just fake and useless FUCKING propaganda!” He spat the words into the silence and was met with a swift blade pressed to his neck by none other than Lae’zel. Had the pale-elf not been blinded by rage and secretly hoping for a fight to release some of the tension housed in his body, he would’ve laughed at this interesting development.

“The only reason she’s in that tent is because that Gur was looking for you… or did you forget?” The Githyanki hissed, dark eyes filled with disgust. “And how many more monster-hunters will come our way because our leader stupidly insists on protecting you. I think we should all just cut ties with you... and with her.”

Astarion sneered at the Gith, pushing his neck forward, calling her bluff. “Did you forget, Lae’zel," He spat, scarlet eyes daggers as he met the alien's gaze. "That it was Wren who shot you down from that cage when your precious Shadowheart wanted to leave you to die? I will sooner kill you for your ungratefulness than watch you abandon her, you cockroach."

Karlach was on her feet now, forming a t-shape with her hands. “Timeout! Oi! No one is killing anyone and no one is slicing any necks and no one is leaving anyone behind. Not today.” She approached her campmates, sighing heavily. “Look. We all need to get some rest and formulate a plan tomorrow… together. It’s been too much excitement for one day and none of us can think straight.”

At this, Lae'zel swiftly lowered her blade from the vampire's neck with a hissed “tch.” She spun around and stamped toward her tent, tossing her dagger at the practice dummy where it sliced into the canvas and remained. The green woman ducked into her tent and then closed it off to the outside world, thwarting the hopes of any nighttime visitors.

The remaining camp members sat in tense silence for a moment before shrugging and also turning in for the night, leaving a clattering of bowls and spoons in their wake. That left Astarion alone with the dog, who had woken up during all the clamor and sat next to him, panting heavily.

Shadowheart, to her credit, had remained the longest, desperate to express something she couldn’t find the words for. The expressions she wished for never came, so instead she sighed and clasped her hands in prayer as she addressed the vampire.

“I am trying, Astarion. But I cannot work miracles.” She muttered, voice cracking again, before she heaved another stressed sigh and headed to Wren’s tent, focused on performing one last exam prior to bed.

Scratch placed his injured maw on Astarion’s lap. Initially, the rogue wanted to recoil at the smelly, hot breath the dog coated his leg in, but decided to leave the creature be. Gods. He desperately wanted to go to Wren’s tent and speak to her, but Shadowheart was already there, and the vampire was unsure if his stomach could face what was sure to be a horrible sight. Guilt and fear settled into his chest, their roots taking hold and twisting around his heart, sharp pangs hitting him every time he took a breath. He remained on that stump with Scratch until the last embers of the campfire dwindled, signaling the rogue that it was time to force himself into a trance and fall into the numbing void.

-----

Wren’s consciousness found itself warped in a hazy state somewhere at the intersection between reality, dreams, and memory for the next few days. The ranger startled awake the day after the Gur encounter to a stressed Shadowheart stripping Wren of her filthy, blood-stained tunic, which the cleric had declared a lost cause. Unable to protest due to the bile rising in her mouth, the honey-eyed half-elf had let the other woman undress her down to her knickers. Then, she vomited, and passed out once again.

Kol came to her in a dream that night… except, it wasn’t actually Kol. The dream guardian’s face was same, those piercing eyes so comforting and familiar, but there was something strange about the way he carried himself. She’d grabbed his hand, her subconscious state desperate to find comfort, and dream-Kol told her that he was here to protect her. He’d said she needed to embrace the potential of the parasite to save the fate of Faerun before telling her to wake and promising she would feel better in the morning.

The following morning — or was it the morning after that? Wren became more conscious of the fact that she couldn’t see out of either eye. She noted with panic that the right side was completely pitch black, but in the left she saw flashes of light and shadow. The ranger mentioned as much, choking back tears of fear and frustration, to a solemn Shadowheart. The Shar-worshipper had done nothing but hum in response and cover both Wren’s eyes with a cold, putrid-smelling salve.

Gale came by many times throughout the days to spoon feed her meals. Wren found she was never more thankful for Gale and his ramblings about Tara and Waterdeep than she was now. She was content to be the sounding board and let him chatter on excitedly, his loquacious nature making is so that she did not have to fill the silence. Between her meals, she fell into sweaty sleep, sometimes dreaming of Kol, sometimes dreaming of Astarion (where was he?), and sometimes having the strange sensation that she was experiencing one of her campmate’s current points of view as the tadpole wriggled in her brain.

In her fitful periods of a sleep, she saw Lae’zel brush strands of hair from a worn and desperate looking Shadowheart, tears in the cleric’s eyes. She saw Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch as hand's that must've been Gale's prepped oatmeal for breakfast. And she saw a locked cabinet flicked open by a pale, dexterous hand, the contents of that cabinet not revealed to her during her slumber.

“For the love of Shar, go in there, you absolute git. You’ve been pacing around here nearly an hour!”

“Oi mate, it’s time! Grow some bollocks.”

Wren woke in mid-afternoon light to three beings whispering urgently outside her tent. She found, with some relief, that her left eye had finally been released from its previous prison of two bulged eye sockets and she could see well enough to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. She desperately needed a bath, the smells of dried blood, stale sweat, and bile clung to her in thick wafts, and her hair had turned into a dried clump of tangles.

Suddenly, Astarion burst into the tent, a tensed coil of jittery energy, and Wren felt her body burn with embarrassment; she silently wished the feeling would ignite her and burst her into flames on the spot. The ranger woman was not particularly vain — spending long stretches of time in the wild without a mirror or civilization had that effect — but she knew she looked ghastly and smelled horrible. And Astarion, well… he looked as he always did, nearly flawless, though his face seemed more sunken, and his eyes were circled by blue-purple bags of sleeplessness.

“Hello, darling.” He murmured, still standing, fiddling with a small package of wrapped cloth in his hand. “I… well… this for you." He waved the package in his hand before crouching down and placing it in Wren's lap. "Shadowheart told me she had to dispose of your tunic, and I thought that perhaps you might appreciate being covered by more than your undergarments while everyone insists on making calls to your tent."

Wren took the package he offered quietly, still painfully aware of her appearance as she undid the jute string holding the plain cloth together. The dressings broke apart to reveal a beautiful azure chemise. The woman's vision was still blurred since she could only see out of the left eye, but she had enough eyesight to appreciate how beautiful — and expensive — the gift was. Her stomach sank with guilt… they weren’t exactly loaded with cash.

The half-elf stared down at the piece of clothing, her bruised and battered fingers running lines along the golden floral embroidery stitched across the hem of the square, flounced neckline. Wren almost laughed at the extravagance of the nightdress. In her past, she'd always favored practicality, which meant sleeping in the nude or a garment that was past its prime for daytime use... fancy stitching and dyes were altogether foreign. She sighed, “Thank you, Astarion… but I think... well, perhaps you should return it, it isn’t—“

“Return it!” Astarion cut in with a good-natured chortle, sides of his eyes crinkling with humor, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “Little bird… you want me to return it to the charred remains of Waukeen’s Rest? I won't hear another word of that ridiculous droll; I’m sure Counsellor Florrick won’t miss it a bit."

“Counsellor Florrick?”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively. “You’ve missed quite a bit, darling. We couldn’t very well stay here and be sitting ducks, so we split up to do our own scouting and gather information while you were under recovery. Karlach and I pulled some Counsellor out of a burning building yesterday -- well, really, as you can expect it was Karlach that did all the work -- and today I returned to pillage the remains. We’d spent most of our gold purchasing what Shar’s favorite cleric needed for your salves, you see, and I guess I took a note from your book. This was there.”

Wren sighed in both relief and frustration, thankful that her gift had not cost them any coin but upset with herself that her healing had drained them near-dry. She made to put her new nightdress on while he moved to place a long-fingered hand on her wrist.

“Ah, darling. Perhaps you should consider a bath before you dress.”

His tone was polite, but the implication made Wren’s face flush once again with embarrassment. All she could do was nod.

“Let me go get Shadowheart, then. Wait here, little bird.”

-----

The bath somehow turned into an a group affair. Everyone was excited to see their leader back on her own feet and to share the tales of adventure she’d missed in her dazed state. Wren found herself thankful to be covered in Astarion’s shirt, which he had taken off and thrust at her in a snap decision. Initially she’d refused, considering the offer far too intimate for their current relationship status (whatever that was) but he’d responded with a roll of his scarlet eyes and a huffy but convincing, “Your body is yours to show off or cover however you wish, darling, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As one would think, the bog wasn’t the best place to find clean water suitable for a bath. So, Gale and Wyll double-teamed the task of readying bathwater with a bit of spellcasting and transmutation practice. It was quite a clever and efficient affair. Gale would conjure water, Wyll would heat it, and then Karlach would haul the bucket over to Shadowheart who, unsurprisingly, treated bathtime as if it were a surgical procedure. Lae’zel and Astarion stood begrudgingly on either side of the cleric as she instructed them to hand her different sponges, soaps, combs, salves and bandages that she used on the ranger with a heavy hand. Wren was sat on a tree stump, utterly at the mercy of the Shar-lover, and forced to endure her as she scraped, scrubbed, primped, and primed... cleansing the ranger of all matter of filth and potentially a few layers of skin.

The little bird’s eyes kept wandering to Astarion when he turned to retrieve another item that Shadowheart requested of him. She noted, with a mix of quickly stifled horror and shock, that his back was covered in a large, raised scar. Wren’s mind wandered through her memories, and she noted that she hadn’t seen the vampire shirtless until now. Camp life held different rules when compared to society, and while the group was far from a nudist colony, it hadn’t been unusual to catch glimpses of barred torsos and legs among her counterparts. She now understood why Astarion always went hunting while everyone else bathed.

As she worked, Shadowheart revealed that she, Gale, and Wyll had managed to infiltrate the Goblin Camp and do some reconnaissance. The shar-worshipper laughed as she explained how she’d disguised herself as a drow and waltzed right in with their posse. She described the interaction they had at the entrance of the gate, spurred on by their tadpoles, and recollected every detail about the True Souls and where they were located within the temple. Unfortunately, no one had any further information about Halsin. To Wren's surprise, the gang had already killed one True Soul named Priestess Gut and tipped her body off of a cavern edge... astoundingly, this had been Gale's idea. The goblins noted Gut's absence but without any evidence of struggle or a body to be found, they'd shrugged it off as her usual leave of business.

“Gut!” Astarion had interjected with incredulity. “The goblin’s name was Gut. How ridiculous.” Which had made Wren burst into laughter that quickly made her wince and stifle herself to avoid further pain. The vampire responded her laughter with a small smile before Shadowheart barked another order his way and roped him back into the task at hand.

Wyll and Gale recalled with shock and horror the beating that Shadowheart willingly took from Abdirak in the name of Loviatar. Wren noted with surprise that Lae’zel lamented her inability to witness the cleric’s penance, since the Githyanki been forced to become Wren’s babysitter while everyone else had all the fun. Wren noted that the usual edge to the Lae'zel's voice had been replaced with a touch of excitement... or perhaps arousal. ‘Who would’ve guessed that one.’

As the last rays of sunlight flared across the sky in a beautiful, milky blend of pink and orange, Wren was finally declared clean and dressed in her new nightgown. The ranger’s right eye was covered with a patch, and her hair was lifted into a high ponytail with accent braids. It wasn’t a style she would usually pick for herself, but Shadowheart did seem to prefer high updos. The little bird went along with it, as she was in no position to refuse the bossy Shar-lover. Finally, she was escorted back to her tent by Gale, who informed her of his intent to bring dinner by shortly.

“Her arms and hands work, wizard! It’s just the right eye that doesn’t.” Astarion bristled as he donned his own shirt, which Wren had returned minutes prior. His eyes were narrowed at the human as he pushed his silver curls back and tightened the strings of his shirt.

Wren thanked Gale but informed him that she actually was not hungry and preferred to rest. The wizard, always good-natured and rather receptive, nodded and walked off toward Wyll, who poured them both a glass of wine as they waited for dinner to finish cooking. Slowly, the half-elf ducked into her tent, still adjusting to seeing through one eye and attempting to avoid any sudden movements sending her spinning. She turned to see the vampire watching as she entered her shelter and gestured for him to follow her. Her heart fluttered a beat as he obliged.

-----

“You really don’t remember what happened after you stabbed Gandrel in the eye?” Astarion asked, brow cocked with incredulity. “Darling, you were, by all accounts, amazing… and also quite terrifying.”

He recounted the events to Wren and watched as her eyes — well, eye — widened in shock and terror. A hush fell between them and Astarion whispered the next question, the one that had been on his and everyone else's mind for days.

“Wren... Who is Kol?”

Wren gasped and clasped freckled hands over her mouth but said nothing. The silence stretched between them again. Crickets and frogs sang outside the tent, highlighting the awkward bit of quiet that fell between rogue and ranger. But Astarion wouldn’t relent by moving past the question; he had am inexplicable, visceral need clawing at his psyche. He needed the answer more than he needed to drink blood.

“My husband.”

Time always moved at a strange pace for the vampire. Torture sessions seemed like they lasted decades and his few moments of relative freedom out on the streets of Baldur’s Gate lasted mere seconds. But in this moment, it felt as if the world stopped turning at all. Astarion noted that familiar sensation of nausea rising up again. 'Who knew freedom would cause as much sickness as captivity does.' The nausea flipped to outrage and his lips curled back, fangs bared, tongue ready to cut into the little bird when she continued through a shaky breath.

“He’s dead. I must’ve been calling for him when I was out of it.”

Astarion stopped his insults before they spilled out of his mouth. He was astonished but found he did not desire, in that moment, to hear further details. The revelation, mixed with the fact that he hadn’t hunted anything since Wren had let him bite into her several days prior, had been enough to give him a headache. The silence stretched between them again. To the rogue's surprise, he reached a pale hand to her freckled one and sighed.

“I suppose... well, I guess I’m sorry to hear that, little bird. Now let’s get you into bed. I have to turn in early as it is, I’ll be gone by first light. Shadowheart found some man named Volo at the Goblin Camp and needs me to break him out of his cell, for what, I have no earthly idea. It seems that even with you out of commission, I'll never get away from being forced to play the hero."

Wren's response surprised the vampire entirely. She deftly grabbed the flounced collar of his shirt and pulled him forward into a kiss, practically lunging to meet him. His cold lips crashed to her warm ones, the smell of berries and cinnamon eerily reminiscent of the moment they'd shared a few nights prior. Wren poured so much emotion into Astarion’s mouth, extracting an overwhelming wave of emotion from him, that all he could think to do was close his eyes and succumb to her kiss.

The half-elf woman's shaking, freckled hands drifted up to the vampire's face and then brushed along to pinna of his pointed ears, shocking a gasp from his mouth and the sudden rush of blood into his ears. In his previous encounters under Cazador’s control, he’d never crossed paths with someone that dared to perform such an intimate gesture on a one-night stand. She’d thrown him off script again and ignited a part of his psyche that had buried itself beneath layers of rote mechanics and one-liners for 200 years. The vampire grasped desperately at her forearm in response, silently urging her to touch him again, but froze in place when the little bird winced in pain and retracted from the kiss, pulling him out of the spell.

Astarion opened his eyes and gently pulled Wren’s hands away from his face; half of his heart regretted the action the moment he performed it, desperate to feel her warmth along his cheek once more. She was staring at him, cheeks flushed. She was a vision in the new nightdress he'd given her, and the new hairstyle Shadowheart had chosen for the ranger gave an enticing view of the neck and collarbone. The vampire stunned himself when he planted a soft kiss on Wren’s knuckle before placing her hands in her own lap. “Perhaps we should postpone more… athletic activities, little bird.” He murmured, offering her a raised eyebrow and a good-natured twinkle in his scarlet eyes to ease the sting of rejection. “After all, Shadowheart will have my head if I undo all her hard work. And I do believe her green guard dog would love any excuse to rip my neck out.”

This wasn’t a simple game anymore. Everything that had happened and everything she shared twisted his original plan of manipulation to feel much more… well, wrong. Part of him wished to go back to the time when he knew nothing of his marks apart from their desperation for his body. It had been astoundingly easy back then.

But Wren wasn’t an easy mark. Astarion was sure he could not compete with the ghost of her dear, dead husband. Surely, she would see his true colors and reject him in the end. And what was the point of exerting all that effort? He needed someone that would follow him blindly to Cazador.

“Goodnight, darling.” The pale elf whispered as he turned on his heel and stalked towards his tent, not waiting for a reply. He burst into his own shelter, desperate to be far away from the spell that little bird had him under and relieved of the painful straining within his trousers. What an idiot spawn he was, that the slightest brush against his ear had sent him into such a frenzied state. A few urgent tugs of his trousers to force them down and the vampire grasped desperately at his arousal. Astarion used his deft hand to stroke wantonly at his member, gasping as the release came. His head tilted back, he saw a flash of Wren’s scarred lip and freckled collar bone ripping through his mind as he rode the wave of his climax.

Either she was going to be his undoing, or he was going to be hers.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x original female character #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #astarion smut #bg3 smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #smut #slow burn fanfic

[karamazovposting]

I didn't know if I wanted to add this little afterthought to this post in the post itself or maybe in a reblog but I didn't really feel like it fit in there so I'm making a completely separate post because I can't stop thinking about it.

I find it very telling (and interesting) that after being told that he's exactly like his father, Ivan finds himself in a very similar situation Fyodor found himself in when he was younger, but said situations have opposite outcomes because Ivan is, in fact, not exactly like his father. Ivan finds a vulnerable man alone and decides to help him, saving his life; Fyodor finds a vulnerable woman, Lizaveta, alone and decides to hurt her in an incredibly vile and disgusting way, which also leads to her death months later.

Ivan gets many chances to redeem himself and prove that he's not like his father (just like Dmitri does) and to me this instance feels like the most important one out of them all; he manages to do good even in madness, even when no one was there to watch and condemn him if he had chosen not to. That's because Ivan doesn't fear anyone's judgment, not even God's, but his own (after all it's his own judgment of himself that makes him spiral, Aleksej and Pavel did nothing but feed into his confirmation bias), and that situation is the ultimate proof of his true character and of what he thinks of himself. He says everything is permitted, yet he still chooses to do good because he thinks he's just like his father and he doesn't want to be. Which automatically doesn't make him like his father.

He does share some personality traits with Fyodor because all the brothers do, but that's not enough to prove he's rotten to the core because he just isn't, and "goodness" is something people actively choose to do, not an inherent trait. Ivan is a good person because he chooses to be, but he thinks he isn't because he thinks his blood is tainted and he can't escape it. But he did.

I'm not really good at explaining this kind of stuff but I hope you get what I'm saying.

#I'm very fond of redemption as a theme so I think and talk about it a lot sorry #and yes I don't think human beings are inherently good or evil #the brothers karamazov #ivan karamazov #fyodor karamazov #thoughts #mine

[colourstreakgryffin]

I have a request to make. Part two of platonic yandere mitsuri vs yandere shinobu, where little brother reader has become depressed and just wants to be left alone. Please and thank you.

Ooohh? Okay. I suppose I could try this, it sounds interesting. Rip our poor character, for real! Short story time~!

Yandere! Demon Slayer Scenarios: Platonic! Kanroji Mitsuri vs Romantic! Kocho Shinobu

“Awww~ my love, come here” Shinobu purrs lovingly as you shuffle back until your back bumped on the flat wall behind you, eyes radiating pure terror and anger at the Insect Hashira before you. You didn’t see her as the sweet caring woman you first saw her, you now know all the truth behind her image. She is a liar, a rotten murderous monster that killed women behind your back to feed her delusions over you

You could never love somebody like her! And what’s worse is that you can’t confide to your own sister since she has become just as bad. You’ve seen it, the arguments Mitsuri has with Shinobu over you that you’re inches away from cutting off ties from her, rather she be your big sister or not. Mitsuri’s possessive nature over you as she grips your hand and glares deathly daggers at her enemies has you angrily pulling away and stomping from her

Mitsuri cried her heart out when you finally yelled at her for her new twisted behaviour and she immediately ran to Obanai for comfort, her little brother hates her. The way she has been acting lately been worsening your fear, your anxiety and your growing depression as Shinobu is a one whole problem on her own, Mitsuri piling up has made the situation so unbelievably horrible, you’ve been spiralling quickly in a depressive hell

It doesn’t help that Obanai barked at you only hours after snapping at Mitsuri, for snapping at Mitsuri. You just went off at Obanai for trying to paint you as the bad guy when you’re the victim of two vile women trying to control you and shape you into what you are not. Their little wooden toy! Obanai didn’t listen to you at all as he cursed you out, he only cared about how Mitsuri feels and you knew arguing with him was useless as you dragged yourself into your room

Your mind recalling every cruel word Obanai threw you at as you crawled into the futon and cried yourself to sleep. That very event was the cause of your depression, all because you tried your best to defend yourself from your psycho sister, you became mentally unwell and you lost the motivation to get up out of bed every morning so quickly, it concerned both Shinobu and Mitsuri

Growling out to be heard by Shinobu, you swiped a hand at the insane woman to try make her back up but she wasn’t fazed by the fingertips missing by a single oxygen molecule. Her twisted smile never faded as her soft mature voice rung out, her much smaller hands grabbing yours to rub against her warm blushy cheek. “What’s wrong, my love? Let me fix you, you must be sick” Shinobu was about to speak but she was interrupted by a loud slam of the room door being flung open, possibly ripped back by a powerful force

“Dokusha! Please don’t hate me! I love you so much!” Mitsuri cried out suddenly, her lime green eyes puffy and red with tears flooding out, as she full-force pushed Shinobu away from you to replace her with her, not failing to basically throw the smaller weaker woman almost metres away to sit down before you. Grabbing your hand and sobbing outloud. She couldn’t sit back and let her relationship with you be destroyed for good!

You hissed, averting your eyes as veins grew on your neck and wrist. Thanks to sharing the same genes as the strong young woman, your own strength was elevated to beyond natural and you were able to rip your wrist free from her grasp. “Stay away from me… you beast… you freak…” You whispered heartbroken, dark racoon-like bags under your eyes as you avoided looking into hers

Once Shinobu recovered from her brief daze on the floor behind you two, anger boiled deeply in her bloodstream as she tackled Mitsuri. Verbal arguments? No more, this time. Shinobu was ready to take Mitsuri’s life to make sure she can’t keep you away from her. You sobbed gently, pushing yourself up against the nearby corner to try shy away from the actual fist fight beginning. Mitsuri defended herself by tossing Shinobu off her back and charged, throwing a wet slap at her, instead of a punch. Despite the fact Shinobu did swing on her

You couldn’t do anything about what is truly happening as you just sit back and cry into your hands as the two women scream and hit each other. God, what you would give to be able to get out of this hell but nobody can save you, they will never leave you alone and you can’t convince anybody around to believe your remarks. You sound like a lunatic

Maybe you are turning into a true maniac, like they are

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime and manga #kny imagines #headcanons #kny hashira #yandere imagines #yandere romance #kanroji mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #kocho shinobu #shinobu kocho #kny mitsuri #kny shinobu #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #demon slayer mitsuri #demon slayer shinobu #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere mitsuri kanroji #yandere shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #kimetsu mitsuri #kimetsu shinobu #yandere rivals

[sisterdivinium]

Liking or disliking fictional characters is wholly dependent on subjectivity, but as there will be those baffled by others' attachments, I thought it might be interesting to delve into an unforgettable, uncomfortable scene featuring Ava and Mother Superion to see if the latter's so-called cruelty "should" soil our opinion of her as some apparently believe it must despite later developments.

Let us begin with a quick recapitulation and a summary of what we see when we arrive at this scene: we are at the Cat's Cradle soon after Ava's coercitive conduction there (rather than autonomous arrival), hostile ground very reminiscent of the orphanage where she was mistreated by another group of nuns for years on end. On the other hand, the convent is familiar territory for Mother Superion, her turf, her natural habitat, even, something she would protect at any cost. She is the active enactor of "cruelty" while Ava is its (not-so-passive) recipient -- a woman facing a girl, the representative of an institution facing a lonely individual with no such backing, a believer facing a sceptic, a master and a rookie, someone who once held a certain position and lost it to someone else who holds it now.

There are a number of opposing values embodied by these two characters in this moment, but perhaps, most of all, what thickens the atmosphere around them is their own relationship to the halo: the object which brought Ava back to life, thrusting this outsider into a secret, hermetic order, is the same coveted object that ambiguously rules the OCS, the cause of both grief and anticipation, essential to a beloved sister warrior's death as well as to the aborted ascension of another to the simultaneously prized and feared status of halo bearer.

Here is a dead girl reborn and hungering for some new kind of life, set against a living woman so well-used to and prepared for death as only an experienced, battle-worn soldier can be.

The clash is inevitable.

Even their positions in the scene itself announce it: the vertical aspect of it, with Ava on the floor, her foot stuck in the wall (the same extremity which first twitches and denounces her resurrection after her being unable to use it for so long) while Superion towers darkly over her, symbolically supported by the dogma of centuries with which she is all but blended while Ava pops out in contrast with the empty, colourful wall. The hierarchy is more than clear and, as the one more advanced in said hierarchy, Superion is bound to be the one wielding the metaphorical whip for which her cane is an apt replacement as an instrument of visible, chastising power.

Here is a superior ready to admonish an unruly subordinate, heartless rules and expectations ready to punish someone who did not even choose to be placed under their majesty to begin with.

Of course we side with Ava, how could we not?

She is the weaker link, an innocent being condemned of a crime she did not commit, moved to tears by vile accusations and conduct -- she is the protagonist whose point of view we have followed from the start of the show two episodes ago, whose inner thoughts we are privy to through voice-over comments the likes of which we do not receive for any other characters for the duration of the story.

Superion, however, is introduced only now, a few running minutes prior to this conflict. We don't know her, we don't trust her, we are not allowed any intimacy with her and so the only impression we can rely on is the one provided by Ava's perspective.

Boss bitch, wicked stepmother... Those words are not neutral.

Our opinion, then, is smartly "manipulated" thanks to the lack of independent information we can gather at this point. We have no choice but to condemn Mother Superion, her bluntness, her harshness by the end of this tense dialogue with Ava.

Interestingly, as vicious as her words about Ava are in the following confrontation with Vincent -- callous, hurtful words that stick with us and reinforce our negative impression of her ("a sinner" who "killed herself", an "aberration", a "cancer") --, those terrible words Superion uses were never directed at Ava, not to her face. Calling someone a coward, as she does within the study, might be offensive, but poor Ava's tears might have flowed more abundantly had she heard these other terms being used about her.

Turns out Mother Superion was honest when talking to Vincent earlier.

She didn't go easy indeed, but she also never revealed to Ava the full extent of her contempt. There was some amount of self-restraint and regard for the newcomer despite appearances.

When speaking of Superion's "cruelty" towards Ava, it's "sinner", "aberration" and "cancer" that come to mind... But she never spoke those words to Ava, just to Vincent.

We hear them, we may judge her sternly, but what did Ava actually get from her? Is it really that much of a stretch to understand Ava's forgiveness, to the point where she demonstrates she cares about the nun's view even before their encounter at the Vatican in 1x09 is over, when she attempts to sway Mother Superion's opinion of her by telling her how she is fighting and protecting her friends even if it looks like she's running from trouble yet again?

In reality, what Suzanne speaks of within the red room is Ava's accident, of her death caused by overdose, of how it must have been a nightmare... There are bits of false or biased information given her source, but there are bits of truth in there as well, if tactlessly delivered. The accusation of suicide is heavy, that of coward is perhaps a tad too strong... But nothing of the words exchanged in that moment, however heightened they are by Sylvia de Fanti and Alba Baptista's shining talent, can come close to the rawness displayed in the conversation she has with Vincent -- a conversation Ava is not present for. "Coward" is a speck of dust compared to "aberration".

Of course there's a reason for this mixture we, as an audience, are likely to make between points of view. This was a practical, clever way to nudge us towards sympathy for Vincent and antipathy for Superion, as a means to enhance the later effect of the former's betrayal and the latter's change of heart at the end of s1. Without this scene, both of those events lose their lustre -- but with its inclusion, it seems there are those who are distracted by it and who will still point an accusing finger at the nun, insisting on seeing her in a much more negative light than Ava herself could, oblivious to the character's evolution as the story unfolds.

If at first we rely on Ava's impressions, this scene provides us with Vincent's perspective, which flattens our view of the situation and might lead us to ignore the surprisingly emotionally charged reaction on Superion's part -- which should vehemently suggest to us that there is much more happening underneath her mask of severity.

Moreover, taking Vincent's "side" seems reasonable enough in this episode, but the revelation of his shaky moral grounds further on should at the very least cause a viewer still full of antipathy for Suzanne, even in spite of her redeeming actions, to question whether they truly wish to maintain their ideas when this fallible man who is cruel in his own way has helped cement them.

We could make a case for these two scenes, the one between Ava and Suzanne as well as the one between Suzanne and Vincent, as being only one. Looking at them together is the best method of ascertaining their effects to the fullest extent.

As a result of their confrontation, Ava is left crying... And, at the end of the debate between the priest and the nun, Suzanne leaves the scene in tears as well, if more contained ones. There's a strange sort of equivalence for both women, as the consequences are the same, their emotional reactions are essentially the same and both are left feeling deeply hurt.

That correspondence is perfectly understandable, if shocking at first to those who haven't yet regarded these events with a wider consideration. For, despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary, despite their myriad differences, their power imbalance, the way they are shown on-screen, visually antithetical to one another, the truth is that Ava Silva and Mother Superion here are precisely the same.

The environment, the camera cuts, the authority... It's all a decoy.

If we look at the relationship between speaker and listener, between two individuals who are supposedly participating in the same process of communication together, both Ava and Suzanne choose the same approach: one which negates the very possibility of dialogue, of exchange, of alternating turns between speaking and listening. They are as two negative magnets, irrevocably repulsed by one another's identical charge -- hence the also identical result of both women being moved to tears in the outcome to their meeting.

Mother Superion is, as we know well, strongly prejudiced against Ava when first they are brought together... But so has Ava formed an opinion on her and on the Order of the Cruciform Sword. Both of them have judged the other based on sources of knowledge they see no reason to suspect: Suzanne takes the word of a fellow nun for granted, keeping to class loyalty, while Ava trusts her empirical learning in the direct contact she had with other nuns. Opening an interesting epistemological debate, illustrating how serious the failures of understanding the world through only one fixed method are, ignoring that a complex, multiple existence requires multiple points of view in order to better perceive its truths, neither Suzanne's faith nor Ava's direct experience can fully qualify them in dealing with the other. Both fail to see through the image they have construed of one another, trusting in the surface, in stereotype all the while closing themselves off to genuine connection with one another.

They have both made up their minds about the other party prior to any real dialogue, so their interactions simply cannot be done in good faith -- not by an Ava who doesn't take the nuns or their vocation (or their grief) seriously, not by a Mother Superion plagued by issues of self-esteem and envy.

Another element determines their proposed equality. It is possible that some degree of recognition regarding Ava and their common status, on Suzanne's part, takes place fairly early on, feeding the animosity.

I've been asked before whether Suzanne might not have seen her younger, foolish self in Lilith's arrogance, but it would be just as feasible to assume she might see herself reflected in Ava as well, in her impulsiveness.

If Suzanne might be linked to Lilith through a shared instinct of aggression, then she might as well see a connection to Ava through her indiscipline, her refusal to conform during that initial stay at the Cat's Cradle.

The horror of seeing oneself in "the other" should not be underestimated. It is a moment of realisation wherein this "other" is revealed as not-so-other to begin with as it carries a portion of ourselves in it -- or vice-versa, which only serves to denounce how artificial the obstacles we erect between one another truly are. We can't separate life into neat little boxes of "us vs. them", we can't build hierarchies, rigid orders based on how alien someone else is when we see through the lies and accept that either we, too, are monstrous or that those "monsters" out there are just the same as we.

And if Superion does see something of herself in Ava early on, it's no surprise that she would reject it as well as Ava just as she rejects herself and the echoes of her own actions, her own brashness on that fateful night where her Mother Superion was indirectly slain by her own hand, as a result of her own indiscipline.

That preoccupation with her girls and their safety which Suzanne demonstrates, despite Vincent's inference of her having other intentions when she pushes Ava away, is highly unlikely to be insincere.

Moreover, Ava is an outsider... And, in some capacity, so is Suzanne.

Imprisoned within her own guilt and sentiments of inadequacy, she distances herself from others to such a degree that she might well be on the outside looking in.

Just as Mary can pinpoint this fault with unerring precision and play a central part to Mother Superion's turning the tides at last, so does Mary fulfil the same function in regards to Ava, opening her eyes as she does Suzanne and strengthening the parallel between the two women.

Mary identifies and helps correct both women's conduct as Ava and Suzanne both pushed others away in their own fashion and for their own reasons; the problem is much the same, as is the catalyst that ultimately drives them towards a solution.

That solution, of course, is building bridges instead of burning them down; it's coming to terms with the fact that there is something shared between even those who seem most inimical. Ava and Suzanne are the same, like an estranged pair of mother and daughter who finally set aside their generational differences or incompatibilities, who finally reject the power of fabricated opposition to embrace a much more authentic, honest way of seeing the other as well as themselves and meet in the middle. They accept the fact that what sets them apart is not as important as what brings them together; they overcome the easy, lazy, automatic barrier of antagonism (not without a struggle) with the end of mutual benefit where once there was only mutual injury, lifting the veil or banishing the shame or fear of seeing underneath it only the most familiar of faces.

It's no surprise, then, that their ultimate reconciliation comes through a literal scene of recognition as that in 1x09. Whatever horror there might have existed in Suzanne's facing her reflection in Ava fades as Ava gets the opportunity to be the one staring into the mirror for once.

This scene, once again masterfully played out by Sylvia and Alba, wouldn't even be possible without the previous negativity surrounding their relationship. Now it is defined by what renders them equal; now that equality is not denied and so there is no further miscommunication between them.

This is all reinforced, of course, in s2, when Suzanne opens up to Ava about her time as the halo bearer (thus, as someone who has been in Ava's position, someone just like her) as well as when Ava tells her she will do what she must alone, for the sake of the others -- and Suzanne understands and supports her despite the lessons learned during her own tenure as the warrior nun.

In a world so large and complex, where we are more and more prone to defining ourselves against others as we attempt to reduce some of that maddening complexity, the definitions that really allow us to approach and coexist with our fellows are those that provide healing, that pull them towards us rather than not. Only they can reopen the routes for clean, generous communication, unhindered by problems of malicious (mis)interpretation, and, therefore, facilitate the genuine human connection we all so crave.

So, once more, it would seem that a negative occurrence in Warrior Nun begets positive outcomes.

What we think of as a vicious, savage, unforgivable attack is, first of all, bad but not as vicious or savage as we might initially feel it is -- just enough to affect the very person responsible for it as much as her target, which should be enough of a hint as to how truly merciless this character is(n't). Moreover, it is the first, shaky step both characters take in the sinuous, parallel journey with a common destination that betters them both.

Funny how all of that "cruelty" amounts to a fairly (or deceptively) simple question.

One which, like it or not, prompts Ava to ponder and act, to move, faithful to herself. Her more immediate answer is what we see at the end of 1x03, of course. But the following events in the narrative, in Ava's life, force her to consider what it might actually mean to live -- and we know how that progresses, where that takes her.

And so might we reconsider alongside Ava: our sympathies, our understanding of characters' motivations, whether any of them can be fully right or wrong... If we're paying attention, we shall see that all of them triumph and commit blunders regardless of whatever moral standing they possess, of how central or marginal they are to the show, of how much we might individually like or dislike them. They're built as human as can be, themselves a reflection of our own sprawling, complex world, where most things are relative rather than absolute.

Prejudice is blinding. Identifying and not shying away from our commonality is infinitely more conducive to social life, however difficult it might be to act so. We all of us are susceptible to judging others incorrectly. Even difficult experiences can make us grow us as people in the end -- if only we're willing to find out how.

Now, I cannot speak for all self-avowed fans of Mother Superion, but I find that her presence and importance in the story and in Ava's path is abundantly clear.

There are other reasons to love her, but the next time someone claims it strange to be so keen on a character who was so "mean", perhaps it will be a jolly good opportunity to help them realise how, as Ava and Superion themselves, this person might just be a little too caught up in their own premature conclusions. They are, by choosing to ignore the very well-wrought development of both characters, thanks to one another, adopting the very posture they claim to abhor in Suzanne by denying her complexity and groundlessly seeing her as nothing more but caricature.

And to do so is to fall for the very trap this wonderful show is so earnestly trying to warn us against.

#warrior nun #ava silva #mother superion #exercises in observation #yes it took me this long to write up a response to that thing on reddit. no i am not sorry because this way i can bring on the big guns lol #i promise i am not being controversial for the sake of controversy lol #on the contrary this is me being extremely level-headed. if you read carefully you'll see. #it's really not about liking or disliking but just... understanding i suppose. one thing is liking another is feeling empathy #it is possible (desirable even) to feel empathy without necessarily liking...

[sircarebearalot]

Guys I need help for a fic

If anyone knows:

- for how long did Corrupted!Carmen operate for VILE!

- what specific heists she pulled

- how old she was at the time (and how old Jules was)

In case anyone is curious (or interested in being a beta!!! Dm me!!) I’m writing a fic exploring that Carmen in canon divergent setting where she stalks a blue coat (Julia) to her home and discovers that the woman knows her and is quite clever

Then, over the time leading up to the eye of Vishnu, she steadily becomes more obsessed.

Here are my notes:

Very messy,, sorry 😣

Okay, let me walk you through the ideas/outline!!! (this is kind of for me bc i perform better with a 'audience')

OVERALL: brainwashed carmen falls in love with julia

NOTES ON CORRUPTED!!CARMEN:

Driven by emotion

Quick to react

Everything she feels is distorted to suit power and her warped mind. So what she feels towards Jules before resurfaces harshly but all wrong.

(She's gonna be very yandere!!!)

So our Carmen respected Jules, but now she feels the respect and it's all twisted so she's thinking shit like— she’s my only equal, or at least, she's the only one anyone near my level

And our Carmen admired Jules, a similar tone, but it takes on a more fascinated in a mechanical sense. Like Jules is some kind of unique specimen. Carmen is thinking, She's different from other. She's made for me.

And our Carmen, for the purposes of the fic, was in love with Jules. Or at least, damn near close to it. Maybe she was even just really really fond, to be more canon compliant. So, that affection morphs and is put through the most toxic extreme. Corrupted!!Carmen is so goddamn possesive. Really caveman (she is mine grrr) and 'VERONICA OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE VERONICA OPEN THE DOOR', like, that bad.

And ofc our Carmen was intrigued by Julia. loved her facts and passion and paid her close attention. Corrupted!!Carmen has no chill and she is like, obsessed. Like yandere obsessed. Like, watches her sleep and takes scans of her internal health constantly to make sure she's healthy. It's freaky, i'm trying to emphasize.

And, she's gonna hunt Julia down bc just like her father, the lone wolf, she does as she pleases and she leaves often to be with her booboo. (Unlike, dexter, the faculty are secure in her mind wipe to be concerned)

So... I described her to you!! Now, let me show you some ROUGH snippets I had as concept bits but I might actually include.

If you rather drop it here and hang around for the actual fic, this is our stop!! this is more for a potential beta and well, me :D. but if ur invested pls stick around

This fic will have:

toxic behavior from Carmen obv (she's like mind fucked)

it's not gonna be romantic

NO SEX

pov alterations

(S4E7) Moment of Canon Divergence

Carmen knew she was being followed.

She looks down, from her vantage on the building to see a higher up blue coat turn to her. Then, to Carmen’s astonishment, a soft smile blooms on the woman's face.

Carmen waits for the officer to show interest in attack, and when she doesn’t— she leaves.

As protocol demands.

Snippet #1: (beginning? sort of a little after carmen confronts julia in her home and is now picking her apart for answers)

"Don't act like you haven't been watching me, Jules."

Julia tucks her chin into her scarf, hiding her face... hiding her grimace. When her Carmen had coined that nickname it felt like some of the cavernous distance between them had been bridged. A play at familiarity. Now, the nickname felt a bit cheap. Like this Carmen was looking for leverage, a way to manipulate her for secrets.

Snippet #2: (just to incorporate other characters)

Graham's gaze flickers from Carmen, to Julia, and to Carmen's vice-like grip on her wrist.

He opens his mouth to say something, protest maybe, but Carmen beats him to it. Within seconds she pins Graham to the wall, speaking to him under her breath harshly.

He looks nearly gray when he moves out of her reach and stumbled backwards, away.

Snippet #3:

"Do you get it? VILE cannot know about you. Do you understand me? Forget ACME. Forget VILE. You only need to think of me."

Julia was grateful that Carmen did not look desperate or upset. No, like always Carmen's gaze was steely and unflinching. It helped. On the odd ocassion before, when Julia had let herself think of Carmen in that light, she had always picked her soft and sweet. Julia doesn't think she was wrong to think so. After all, this isn't the Carmen Julia had cared for.

This Carmen was a stranger. A dangerous one.

"I need a job, Carmen."

"You don't. I'll handle it all."

This would make communicating with ACME infinitely harder, with her constantly operating under Carmen's nose. But not impossible, and that was enough for now.

"What about my interests? If I don't do something I'll go mad."

Carmen crosses her arms. "What do you want?"

"My academic career."

"No."

Julia blinks, taken aback.

"Too many people. Too many factors. No way."

Julia fights back the urge to cry, or scream. Instead, she says, "Then my blog. My academic blog.*" She fights back a sob, or a snarl. "Please. I need it."

Looking incredibly agitated, Carmen bites out, "Fine."

"Thank you," Julia whispers, surprised and sickened by how much she means it. "Thank you, Carmen. This means so much to me. It makes me so happy."

Carmen's gaze darkens, eyes going nebulous. Insistently, she says, “I only need you, Jules. You’re the only one that understands me.”

Ironic because Julia had always felt that Carmen was more a mystery than a person. Julia forces a smile on her face as a compromise.

"I wish I understood you better."

Carmen knows the smile is forced. They both know. But the smile was Julia's compliance and that is all Carmen wants now.

"I wish you only needed me. Like I do you."

Julia's smile went somewhat shakier when she says, "I'm sure it's only a manner of time."

The way Julia said it... it nearly sounded like a guarantee.

Carmen forces herself into Julia's arms and tucks her face into the crook of Julia's neck.

Julia suppressed her shudder.

"Let's see how patient I am, hmm?" **

Snippet #4: (dialogue heavy-- needs heavy editing--, near the end... this is part of Julia's plot to manipulate CArmen into ACME to be fixed by the mind machine)

Julia is far too used to Carmen parking herself in the armchair besides Julia's bed to watch her sleep. Carmen's gaze on her is alert and hungry, waiting for any discrepancy.

“Carmen,” Julia murmurs, sitting up slowly. Allowing Carmen to track the movements. Julia takes the glass of water at her bed stand and peers into the clear liquid. After a long moment, she finally asks, “Carmen, would you kill for me?”

“Just say the word.”

The response had not an iota of hesitation. Julia had expected as much. She powers forward, watching Carmen's even breathing.

“Would you die for me?”

“I’d die with you. I’d kill to avenge you. It seems sort of useless to die for you, though. You’d live, yes, but then I wouldn’t be there to appreciate you. Someone else might… " Carmen goes tense, and Julia ducks her head. "Jules.”

Gaze carefully on her glass, Jules says “Yes?”

“Jules, would you let someone else replace me at your side?“

Carmen's voice is sharper and harder than the diamonds she steals so often.

“No," Julia says, well-rehearsed. "Of course not. How could anyone compare to you? No one knows me better than you. No one ever will.”

“Alright,” Carmen says, not believing her but not disbelieving her either. (Because a part of Julia means it. Maybe. In a twisted sort of way. No one will ever pay her such close attention--as unnerving and frightening as it is-- and no one will ever know her as well.) "Good. If someone else had you... I'd have to kill them."

She says it casually, easily, like it's a fact. It is but Julia knows the look in Carmen's eye, the watching look. Like she's waiting for Julia to react negatively. Like she's searching for resistance.

Julia doesn't give a reaction, and instead asks, “What about me then? If I died?”

Another immediate response:

“I'd burn the world down to avenge you. Everything.”

Julia snorts. "Everything but VILE."

Carmen hesitates, then says, almost more to herself, "Even then..."

Julia ignored “But what of natural causes then?“

“I don’t believe in coincidence," Carmen says dismissively, relaxing quickly. She must consider this as pleasurable, as a game of hypotheticals. As if Julia was finally leaning into Carmen's brand of affection. "There’s always someone responsible. An authority to blame.”

“What about cancer then?“ Julia asks cassually.

Carmen chuckles, amused. “You don’t have cancer, Jules. I checked last night. You're such a worrier.”

The fondness was nearly authentic and that... That is far more terrifying than anything else Carmen has ever pulled.

“I’m asking hypothetically.”

“Well, then I’d kill the doctor for failing you.”

“Even if there’s nothing that can be done?”

“Yes.”

She swallows. “What if it’s my own fault then? What if my incompetence brought upon my own death?”

Carmen’s gaze hardened, looking more suspicious. “You mean suicide?"

"No," Julia says quickly, careful not to upset Carmen. "No. Not that. But, say I slipped and fell down the stairs. Something anti-climatic. Something completely my fault."

"If that's all it takes then you are not my equal," Carmen says evenly. "Then you're not the Jules I want.”

Relief sweeps through Julia like a tidal wave. She beams at Carmen.

Carmen's eyebrows shoot up. "Did I answer right?"

"I have one more scenario for you." Julia raises the glass to her mouth and drinks, faking confidence. The cup clatters on the bedside table as she sets it down, betraying her nerves. "After this, I'll be sure of this."

Carmen rolls her shoulders back, like this is all a game. Even her gaze is competitive, a mean gleam shining.

“Carmen.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so patient with me,” Julia exhales.

Carmen softens. “That’s because you are my one and only.”

“Then you must save me, right?”

Julia grins again. This time her teeth are a bit bloodied. Carmen freezes, gaze like darts.

“What do you mean? Are you endangered?”

For the first time, Carmen looks hesitant to touch her.

“Six hours ago," Julia narrarrated. "I swallowed a pill… a very potent poison once activated. I… I just activated it. The antidote can only be found in the ACME headquarters, in their lab." Betrayal flashes in Carmen's eyes and Julia hurries to finish her sentence, before the toxins render her useless. "I have two hours, if I’m lucky, before there is irreversible damage to my vital organs.”

Carmen was apoplectic. "Julia."

“Prove it to me, Carmen. Prove to me that you love me.”

Now Carmen grabs at her, taking the collar of Julia's sleep shirt and shaking her. Now, Julia's body was limp and she flopped in Carmen's grip.

"You doubt me still? You are the cruel one. I'll prove it to you. I'll save you this once, and then, then you will spend a lifetime making it up to me. Understand?"

"G't it."

Notes:

the *, the blog is gonna be how Julia gets in contact with Player and how they devise a plan (he like starts a 'rival' blog that they 'banter' through)

the **, Carmen ends up being endlessly patient. bc her feelings are too obssessove, she doesn't really need Julia to love her back as she just needs Julia around. Also, the don't even kiss or hold hands. Its really just a lot of one-sided hugs, holdings, and face cradlings (except for when julia is trying to manipulate carmen, whcih carmen lets happen bc she liked the touch)

#carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #carulia #julia argent #evil carmen sandiego #ao3 author #do it for the fic

[rfxiii]

First time saying “I love you” for the North Yankton boys:

(TW: angst in Trevor’s story)

(fem reader)

[1260 words]

Michael Townley:

He’d brought you out to see an old reshowing of one of his favorite movies at the local drive in theater. He’d brought pillows, blankets, and bought you both huge drinks and enough snacks to last a week.

You’re cuddled up in the front seat, with Michael’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder as the old black and white film flashes across the screen. Michael is more than engrossed, but surprisingly not on the film. He can’t tear his eyes away from how interested you look- your eyes glued to the screen and a little smile on your lips as your fingers fumble absently for the bucket of popcorn.

Nobody has ever liked the same classic movies as him, but from your very first date, when you’d mentioned going to the cinema and watching one of his favorite films, Michael had known you’d be the one.

The movie ends far too soon in his opinion, and as you both fold blankets and toss pillows into the back seat, you haven’t stopped chattering about the movie.

“And then he says ‘I loved you once Tony, but there’s nothing between us. Now that I know you prefer dictation.’ I love that line! Thank you so much for bringing me tonight, Michael” you coo, grinning wide and leaning up against his shoulder.

A soft chuckle slips from Michael’s lips- his heart is fluttering while he still tries to comprehend how perfect you are,

“God, (y/n)… I love you.”

A breathless giggle escapes your lips as you try to process his words. Michael is a true gentleman, he’s kind, a bit withdrawn, but still passionate about the things he loves. And according to him, you were one of those few things,

“I love you too, Mikey.”

A smile grows on Michael’s lips, and when he leans in and pulls you into a deep, romantic kiss, you feel just like a character in a romance movie.

Trevor Philips:

You hated when this happened. It wasn’t his fault, and you know that. But you still wish there was something you could say or do to fix it. His mother had been to visit this morning, and as it always happened when she stopped by, the visit had left him a sobbing mess on the floor.

You’d known she was coming, and made some excuse to leave. You’d always hated that vile woman, but you’d learned very quickly not to speak ill of her to Trevor. He idolized that witch of a mother of his, and the first and only time you’d mentioned hating her, it had resulted in a nearly day long argument between the two of you. So you keep your mouth shut and excuse yourself whenever you catch wind of her sporadic visitations.

But it’s times like these, when you come home to find him in such a pathetic, broken state, that you genuinely feel guilty for leaving him alone with her.

You sit on the floor beside him, silently pulling him into your lap as you stroke your fingers through his tangled mess of a mullet. His face is blotchy red and soiled with tears and snot that both soak the fabric of your jeans as he clings to your thigh.

You stroke his hair, holding him close as you rock him gently and offer soft words to calm his heartbroken tears,

“Sshhh.. It’s ok, Trevor.. I’m right here.. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry.. It’s alright now, baby. I’ve got you.. I’m not going anywhere.”

He crawls up your body like a clingy cat, practically seating himself in your lap as he wraps you up in a tight, desperate hug,

“I love you.. I love you, (y/n).. Don’t leave me.. Please don’t go..”

The wet, desperate pleas break your heart. But you can’t truly do anything to fix it. You want more than anything to fix the pain of his childhood, to make his mother love him like she should, to take away all the pain in his heart. But you know you never can. So you hold him tight and give him all you have to give- your love,

“I love you too, Trev. I love you so much. And I’m not ever going anywhere. I promise.”

Brad Snider:

He can be so dumb sometimes, and so childish, but in such a cute, endearing way. The snow is coming down in sheets, and it’s accumulated to nearly your mid-calf. But he’d had the genius idea to go outside in it. You’d had your back to him, enjoying the quiet tranquility of the snow softly falling across the small yard in the trailer park he’s residing in when the first snow ball hits you. Soft, icy snow explodes against your back, chilling you further as you let out a yelp of surprise and spin around to gap in shock at his brightly grinning face.

“Brad! What the hell!?”

“Aww, come on, babe. Don’t gimme that look~” Brad taunts, stepping back quickly as he sees you gathering snow and forming it into a projectile.

“Don’t you run from me, Bradley Snider!” you shout, chasing after him as you throw the snowball in his direction- missing pathetically as you do.

“Ooh! Ya gotta be faster than that, princess!” Brad cackles, hurling his own snowball at you and hitting you in the chest as icy snow slips down into your shirt.

“Ugh! You fuckin’ suck!”

The snowball fight goes on forever, and for a while it’s honestly like being a kid again. He makes you feel that way alot- you’re both always laughing, going on silly little adventures, staying up watching movies, and playing silly games like this. Your thoughts are snapped back into the present when another snowball hits the back of your head and his laughter fills your ears. With a growl, you run at him, throwing your body into his- the impact having no effect on him, but he gives you the satisfaction of thinking you’d done something by letting out a groan and pulling you down atop him into the snow.

“You’re terrible!” you giggles, swatting at his chest as he holds you close and tries to stifle his laughter.

His laughter is infectious, and you find yourself unable to look away from his beaming smile and bright, blue eyes. He can be a lot, but you really wouldn’t want to be spending this time with anyone else in the world. He sees the way you look at him, how you smile for him, and he knows better than anyone just how lucky he is to have you..how lucky he is that you chose him.

“Fuck.. You know I love you more than anything, (y/n)?” Brad chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck hair behind your ear.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment his heart nearly stops for fear that you’ll reject him and leave. But his fear his quickly dashed when your look of shock is quickly replaced with a wide grin as you lean down and press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips,

“I love you too, Brad.. Even if you are an asshole.” you giggle, grabbing a fistful of snow and pressing it to his cheek.

He gasps in shock, and before he can get his bearings you’re on your feet and running for the house,

“Oh, you’re fuckin’ in for it now, babe!” he shouts, getting to his feet and sprinting behind you with a wide grin.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael townley #brad snider

[skipppppy]

Anyway I’m bored and Carmen Sandiego renaissance is on the brain. What are these characters like when they aren’t focused on the main plot?? Non VILE/ACME/Caper related dialogue seems so few and far between.. I wish we got to see their lives outside work. So I made some headcanons abt it

CARMEN

Player was her first exposure to the outside world so she probably holds a lot of his nerdy interests close to her heart. She’s not the best at video games but plays them regardless. She especially enjoys sci-fi horror movies from the 80s that go big on practical effects

Finding random trivia about different countries is genuinely one of her favourite hobbies. The little info segments she does are not part of the edutainment show. She is genuinely just like that. This woman is a trove of fun facts please let her unleash them upon you

In the same vein she LOVES quizzes. After missions she will drag Team Red to any bar doing a trivia night in her vicinity and will wipe the floor with everyone there. Fear her

Enjoys people watching. It’s why she’s so good at charming strangers despite her socially stunted upbringing. She’ll sit alone in a busy train station for hours and watch everyone pass her by

PLAYER

Look. We know this kid is a nerd. It’s canon. But which niche of nerdiness does he fall into exactly?

Despite being an avid gamer he isn’t very competitive about it. He prefers single player rpgs, especially ones with active modding scenes. He doesn’t even know what vanilla Skyrim looks like he probably wasn’t even born yet when it released

He will, however, duo queue with Carmen on unranked Overwatch. They are both terrible at it and think it’s the funniest shit

Enjoys sitting back and watching a good speedrun. Will have a video of someone doing a stupid BOTW challenge in the background while he hacks security cameras and such

Runs a DnD campaign for Team Red which they’re all crazy invested in. Shadowsan is the only one who doesn’t care for it but he keeps rolling nat 20’s on the dumbest shit and derailing the campaign and he finds everyone’s reactions too entertaining to stop. They have a rivalry only a DM and a stupidly lucky rogue could have

ZACK

We already know he’s kind of a meathead that enjoys sports and cars and cheesy action movies but I also think he has a lot of softer hobbies that he keeps to himself bc he knows they won’t take him seriously

He’s a secret crocheter. He’ll mend the team’s clothes when they rip but that’s the extent of their knowledge. He’ll sit for hours by himself and knit while listening to music. Sometimes Shadowsan will find a new pair of socks in his bag. When Carmen got sick once she woke up with a handmade blanket draped over her. Ivy has her suspicions but doesn’t wanna intrude

He loves animals. He never really brings it up because no one ever asks. He always checks out local zoos and aquariums if he has the chance. Grew up watching Steve Irwin-esque nature shows and still does to this day

His love of eating is less out of greed and more his own form of cultural appreciation. Idk what happened to his and Ivy’s parents but for reasons he can’t explain their cooking is one of the few things he hasn’t forgotten, so he has a lot of sentimental food-based memories. And experiencing other countries cuisine connects him with that

IVY

PERIOD DRAMAS. They don’t have to be good they just have to be steamy. She enjoys the hot women in pretty dresses. She and Carmen watch Bridgerton together and laugh about how historically inaccurate it is

She LOVES renfaires and similar high fantasy roleplaying communities. Someone please buy this woman a suit of armour

As an engineering prodigy AND fantasy buff she has a massive interest in Blacksmithing and Swords. That’s her designated lesbian hobby. She’s been trying to politely worm her way into a conversation with Shadowsan about the blade he returned to his brother for months now but isn’t sure if it’s too personal of a topic for him so she’s nervous

Her sweet tooth encompasses more than just chocolate. She’s secretly grateful to Zack since he takes most of the flack for being a glutton. She makes note of any bakeries they pass by on capers so she can come back later in secret and go ham on the pastries

SHADOWSAN

I think his interest in Samurai history starts and ends with his love for Hideo. He’ll happily discuss it and he’s studied it passionately, but out of a sense of respect and duty to do right by the brother he betrayed

He will NEVER, EVER admit it to anyone but he genuinely misses the adrenaline rush from committing petty crimes. He was a criminal for over 20 years. Lifestyles are hard to shake and change isn’t linear. He’d never succumb to impulse but he’s just kinda bored

He microdoses on the urge by pranking people. Everyone always blames Zack so he never gets caught. He also enjoys sneaking up on people and making them jump. He’ll always insist it’s unintentional. It isn’t

He’ll read and meditate and train to keep himself centred but he’s still a rowdy young punk at heart. Team Red is the first taste of freedom he’s had after a lifetime of VILE faculty monitoring him. The first thing he bought for himself after settling in at the San Diego HQ was a motorbike. The second was a new tattoo. The third was a potentially lethal amount of whiskey that he drank in one sitting

JULIA

We know she has a passion for history outside her work in Law Enforcement so she definitely goes to all kinds of museums in her free time. She’s the kind of person who enjoys learning just for the sake of learning (she and Carmen have that in common)

Outside of that she’s surprisingly good at karaoke? She gets stage fright but really likes singing and will go all out if you hype her up. Her taste in music is the exact opposite of her appearance and personality. Lots and lots of death metal

An aficionado for different types of tea. She keeps like 10 flavours in her house at all times. She especially likes floral ones that taste light and sweet. She hates iced tea with a passion though

Goes to botanical gardens whenever the weather is warm and the season is right. She likes the history of the old manor houses but she also loves admiring the landscaping and the blooming flowers. She could sit on a bench surrounded by local flora and fauna for hours

DEVINEAUX

Chase is an entirely different person when he’s off the clock. The unhinged high-energy maniac who froths at the mouth about La Femme Rouge goes dormant once he gets home. Especially after he got stranded on VILE island. That really gave him some introspection about work/life balance

The biggest, softest, sappiest hopeless romantic you will ever meet in your life. Passion is just part of his nature and he gets his heart broken A LOT. It’s why he throws himself into his work

He’s a really good chef. Like REALLY good. Before he was a cop he did a few summers as a line cook in his teen years and he retained most of the knowledge. His pantry is STACKED and he tries out recipes he picked up from his ACME travels in his free time. He’s a tad snobby about it because he’s French but you will not complain about the stuff he feeds you

Old movie enjoyer. His favourites are film noirs, cheesy romances, creepy eastern european animation and german expressionism. He has a fervent hatred of Marvel

Also one of those insane people who get up at 5am to do cardio. One morning before a mission he met Agent Zari with barely a glisten of sweat on his forehead and sadly informed her that he only got to run 15k and he wished he had time to do more. That was the first time she ever knew fear

#carmen sandiego 2019 #cs #player cs #zack cs #ivy cs #shadowsan #julia argent #chase devineaux

[plutorine]

Thoughts on Demons (2014)

this was originally going to be part of my demons (2014) thread on my twitter, but i'll just be dumping my thoughts about the series here on tumblr. i'll continue where i left off from where i closed the thread.

spoilers below the cut. there will be triggering content as well (suicide, mention of blood). don't expect this to be coherent. also i haven't read the book yet (oooh when i tell you about how desperate i am in getting a copy here in the PH), so yeah.

long read ahead.

okay. the last scene i watched last night was liza nikolaevna (and mavriky) getting beaten by the townspeople after the death of the lebyadkins due to her connection to stavrogin (and stavrogin being the main suspect of the siblings' death). did they really have to beat the poor girl? why must a woman (yet again) suffer from the misdeeds of a man HGKJDGFJGHDK

also pyotr,,, maniacally dancing in the pig pen....

man. the whole thing about shatov finally getting the chance to be a father and live with a family of his own only to be shot in the head by pyotr is just. :((( my jaw was on the floor i tell you. i was devastated and utterly wrecked.

the thing with demons (2014) is that it's on a different level of insanity than, say, c&p. c&p is depressing. demons wrecked me from start to finish. i cannot stress how many times the hairs on the back of my head stood up whenever pyotr would manipulate and rope in stavrogin in his plans.

it has the vibes of like,, trying so desperately to wash off blood from your hands but the blood just "magically" keeps on getting redder and redder and it doesn't really come off

also what the fuck was that pyotr??? mans just shot shatov in point-blank range and has the audacity to eat chicken (without washing his hands, to boot)??? like OH you going to HELL hell.

this scene with kirillov's lines:

i mentioned in the thread that i had to brush up on russian history before i read/watch demons because otherwise, it would just completely fly over my head

it was pretty interesting watching how this movement that pyotr was trying to mobilize fit the existing narrative then within the context of 19th century russian politics; demons was essentially dostoevsky "warning" of what could possibly be if people who thought like verkhovensky would get the upper hand in deciding the course of the russia's future

i admit i can't really speak about this because well, i'm not russian, but i deeply appreciate the how dostoevsky was able to weave all of this in his novel in such a way that leaves even me, a foreigner, in deep thought about what the implications of such an ideology would have on a wider context outside its country of origin

ok kirillov wtf HAHAHAHAHA ang gago niya XD

stavrogin's confession.

VILE. stavrogin you VILE, VILE, MAN. i don't have any words for it at all. raskolnikov ends up looking like a saint when i put him next to stavrogin.

on another note maksim matveev's teary-eyed face in that scene is so fucking beautiful i almost cried along with him

i seriously want to ask dostoevsky why he insists on making beautiful the characters that we're supposed to dislike/critique

heck even that notion warrants much introspection

like he's about to k-word himself but he still looks so hot? okay i need to stfu

i like the bit here with tikhon talking about revolutions and such:

this reminds me very much of my country's very own EDSA Revolution (there's EDSA Uno and Dos, but I'm talking more about EDSA Uno here because it's probably more relevant to the political state of my country rn). i won't go into depth about it, but you can check the wiki of it to get an idea of what i mean.

(they can be *gets shot*)

the ending scene. okay.

i talked about this w my twt moot and according to her, the most accepted theory is that the kid there (with dasha) is stavrogin's, and verkhovensky's reaction to seeing them there was like him getting the idea to continue his failed twisted plan, but with the kid in the place of his father. just. what the fuck man. leave that kid alone.

i was also told that this scene wasn't really in the book? yeah. so there's that.

concluding thoughts:

at this point i'm quite used to ruslit plots wrecking my mental state and subjecting me to emotions that make me want to stare at a wall, so this experience with watching demons (2014) was not as jarring as i feared it to be XD as expected, there were really some scenes that left me like "huh??? 🤨🤨", but really that's because i haven't read the book. what i plan to do is once i get the book, i'm gonna read it as i revisit the series.

also maksim matveev? yeah. that man is HOT hot. i could stare at his stavrogin all day if i could.

that's it for me! thank you to everyone who engaged with the thread, it made the experience of watching demons (2014) more enjoyable.

my next target watch on the dostoevsky adaptation list is the italian tbk film!! that or the 1968 russian one. will definitely make a live commentary thread about either on twitter as well.

#shut up rin #fyodor dostoevsky #demons (2014) #devils #the possessed #russian literature #rin's stuff: ruslit commentary #nikolai vsevolodovich stavrogin #pyotr stepanovich verkhovensky #ivan pavlovich shatov #alexei nilych kirillov #darya pavlovna shatova #lizaveta nikolaevna tushina #maksim matveev

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

MOUSE. MOUSE HEAR ME OUT. What if Jio and/or Daia met farmer's grandma in the cult when they were very young and have fond memories of her because she was the only one who tried to treat them like the children they were instead of as ninjas in training? And what happens when they realize they're now dating their grandchild? Farmer doesn't have a lot of memories of their grandma because they were young when she passed away and their parents hid that from them, but Jio/Daia keeps seeing little things of grandma in the farmer.

Oh...

This headcanon made me feel happy and sad at the same time, thank you...

In Daia's life, Grandma was probably the only person who, if only for a short time amidst the endless training, helped her feel like a normal girl without responsibilities, rules, or sharp weapons. She got her first doll from Grandma. Grandma was the one who treated the girl to cranberry cheesecake instead of elixirs, and gave her her first beautiful floral dress.

I'm not sure about Jio, because I thought he was an adult by then. Elves have a longer lifespan than humans (...I think. if I missed a detail about his lore - please tell me!). But still, Grandma also treated him almost like a member of her family, just like Daia.

Unlike Daia, though, Jio was interested in Granny in terms of being an adventurer. After all, he knew very well that this woman of advancing age called herself a florist, but hid the cool nature of a fearless defender of Ridgeside Village, respected even by his Lady and Forest Spirit. Grandma used to coddle the elf too, treating him to plum pudding, but Jio always pretended he was too serious and cool for all that tenderness (he trusted and loved Granny too, but refused admit that to anyone).

Belinda allowed it because Grandma was her best friend, and even her cult followers need at least a little break.

Everything was turned upside down by the vile Gabriella and her curse on Ridge Forest. Granny had to risk her life to free the magical forest from the evil spell, and she succeeded... but the cost was her own life. The person who had been a support and encouragement to Jio and Daia died. Grief-stricken, they're now fully immersed in training to protect Ridgeside Village from the growing curse and to get revenge on Gabriella.

Daia and Jio realised that Farmer and Granny - two different people, but with rheir actions and character, Farmer reminded these two very much of the same person who always had a warm smile on her face and who always smelled like delicious baked goods.

#ridgeside village #rsv #rsv jio #sdv daia #sad headcanon. i am sad :( #but i really love this idea thanks lotus 🫰💕 #sdv mods