#lavender sisterhood

[greenerteacups]

Hi, Gt! 🍵 Curious: what character's POV in Lionheart universe you'd enjoy writing the most in regards of showing an outside perpective of Draco/Hermione? Or imagining, that is. And also! What character would be your favorite to write besides D and H in terms of explaining their inner thoughs/actions? 🪻🌺

I always thought it'd be fun to do a "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" ripoff with Lavender, Parvati, and Romilda, where the through line is a gambling ring they've had since third year about when and how Hermione's Friendcest Love Triangle/Five-Year Situationship From Hell is going to resolve. I think that'd be the funniest to write.

As for an actual serious character piece, I would love to do something in Pansy's head. She's so nasty and clever and hypocritical, and I get excited whenever I get to put her in a scene with Theo. Writing the two of them together feels like shining a flashlight down a well and going "hey, you good down there?" and all you hear back is growling.

Of course, the real choice is obviously Narcissa. But I've dabbled with her already, and without spoilers, we'll have a bit more dabbling before we're through.

[sgiandubh]

Tait rhymes with Hate and Only rhymes with Lonely

I had a glorious, lazy Saturday (late brunch and witty geopolitical conversations on the terrace of the Byzantine Museum, lavender shrubs on top), yet somehow still fell on my basic evening procrastination thoughts.

Taiters, or the Cooperative of Domestic Bliss. They don't even like McSideburns and simply transfer to the Convenient Prop their North Korean homage reflex towards C. They simply hate S, with a thick, blind, ferocious hostility, and it dawned on me it's not just about thwarted love, but also complete failure to lie to oneself. That translates into perfunctory, almost whimpered, praise: 'we love the love' (it sticks out a mile, mhm), 'he has to be exceptional to have been chosen by C' (above all, never mention the inconsistencies, sugar plums), ' he was always by her side' (that seldom happened and only when absolutely required).

Onlies, or the Sisterhood of the Golden Dirk. They don't give a rat's ass about McSideburns, his life, his endeavors and his destiny. They are simply relieved he is there, somewhere, floating like an astronaut in the sidereal void, because that means that C is conveniently accounted for in their binary world representation. The main advantage of their position on the reality cursor is that they don't have to worry about that clear, present danger for their Fitness Harem vicarious fantasy. The main weakness is that they can never be sure: theories are like that, seldom watertight. All the digital stalking (let's not lie to ourselves: monitoring someone 24/7 and building timeline extravaganzas is exactly that) and policing (the French have a wonderful word for that: flicage) will never bring the grail of ultimate evidence. Face it, if you have a modicum of morality. And yes, I feel sorry for your empty, lonely, jejune life and the safety valve you built yourself against all this. I said 'sorry', not compassionate.

I am coldly analyzing all this and I am telling myself that Taiters are intellectually lazy and Onlies are control freaks. Their makeshift, opportunistic coalition against us is merely motivated by the existence of this bothersome Third Option, ironically their #bestofFans.

In the meanwhile, McSideburns carries on. A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a... oh, well... inside a beanie, I suppose. And how can one hate a beanie? Nah. It's the symptom, not the cause.

Onwards to the Netherlands for a Just So story. Nope, it's not what you think: there are many more interesting things in that wonderful country than three laptops data mining round the clock in a basement.

[edited and changed gif, heh. Realized that it was not really what I had in mind. This one is way better.]

[heterophobicdyke]

LMAO there's a celibate straight women in the notes of your poll submission saying how you as a lesbian "gets to have partners without having to consider whether that impacts women's liberation" while she has to "remain celibate" and "you should at least acknowledge that".

meanwhile, its unsafe in most of the world for lesbians to date. in countries in which its legal and safer, trans ideology and polilez radfems have overtaken lesbian spaces. even the women's movements has forced lesbians to remain closeted for the sake of its image. (i remember another lesbian here made a long post about it with sources, that you reblogged?)

straight radfems have no empathy for lesbians. arrogantly demanding lesbians "acknowledge" this made up privilege they've projected on us, as if lesbians aren't forced to live lonely and loveless lives all the time due to the combined oppression of sexism and homophobia.

Haven’t seen it [edit: she must have blocked me because it’s not there] but yeah just because we don’t abstain from men (which considering how violent they are to women shouldn’t be so heartbreaking), doesn’t mean our experience and relationships are privileged. I find straight women so tone deaf to lesbian issues.

It’s not a privilege that lesbians aren’t attracted to men when the fact we aren’t attracted to men has meant we’ve been raped, institutionalised, and forced into relationships with men we cannot find attractive in order to pretend to be “normal.”

Various axes of oppression intersecting can mean that OSA relationships present social power for not being seen as a f*g/dyke on the axis of homophobia while also being dangerous for women on the axis of misogyny. Lesbophobia is half misogyny, half homophobia, and means lesbians also suffer for “rejecting men” despite it not being a choice. We also have brothers and fathers and men on the street who could and do rape and abuse us. But apparently only straight women suffer at the hands of men.

The privilege of being OSA, as a woman, is often demonstrated *outside* of the OSA relationship. You know you have the reproductive attraction—when all animals are perceived to EXIST for reproduction. That’s why bisexuals are only a glitch; homosexuals are the fullblown error. The “sisterhood” is defined by being into men. “Sisters” don’t fuck so lesbians have always been viewed as a predatory threat to feminism by straight women (Lavender Menace anyone?). The fact we are sexually interested in women means straight women interpret us as manly. Except they choose to be around men and not us.

Homophobia won’t necessarily change with febfem/celibacy under female separatism. It will still exist among women as it does now. But it’ll be less frustrating hearing OSA women critique gay male things like drag when they don’t go home to an OSA man. I think it’ll happen less anyway because half the reason gay men are critiqued so much on radblr is because het-partnered radfems are justifying their relationship by acting like men who aren’t attracted to women pose the same violent threat to women than those who are, even though sexual violence is (IMO) most terrifying.

Anyway. We have to do something about men because I want to walk around my neighbourhood and not fear being raped. So I will work with all women without male partners.

[zendoe]

hiiiiii sorry if anyone finds these annoying but I like them I was tagged by the wonderful @missmassacre and I just can't say no

Favorite color: Anything in the range of like, sky blue-turquoise-teal-seafoam green-mint green. Runner up is lavender.

Last song(s) I listened to: I know this isn't actually the answer at all but it's the last thing I can actually remember: Long Skirt/Short Jacket by Cake. I also need to listen to the new Black Dresses album

Currently reading: I just finished Skeptical Linguistics Essays by Paul Postal which is a great read if you're also a lapsed linguist. I need to start reading one of the things on this stack before I get anything else from the library or my girlfriend will get mad at me.

(top one is Women's Literature: Modern, a collection of stories by authors in the Japanese women's lit movement and analyses of them)

Currently watching: getting a friend into Utena, also my lovely gf has been intermittently showing me Pose, which I've been enjoying a lot.

Currently craving: RPGs/board games. I recently learned about the game Earthborne Rangers and it seems really sick and I want to get it for my friend group. also I've been playing a Chuubo hack for Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood I've been working on and it's been really fun, but I'm basically always craving more little fiddly numbers on paper that correspond to a funny little woman in my head.

Coffee or tea: So like. Tea. But I really like coffee. But my body does this thing where whenever I drink it (even decaf these days) I feel an intense overwhelming sense of dread like I'm going to experience total organ failure. so I don't usually drink it, except sometimes Italian style with dessert because for some reason thats fine. but also, if you're asking in terms of what I use to caffeinate myself, it's actually Zevia, which is this brand of stevia sweetened sodas that are, not very good to be frank. They very much taste like grass. But personally I enjoy that taste a lot and basically always keep some in my fridge and their original cola flavor is caffeinated and I frequently drink them as my pick-me-up when going to work.

okay bye I'm tagging @aviaris @meleg-vagyok @canmom @zersk @somahind. please pardon the intrusion if this isn't something your interested in 🙇‍♀️

[gsstories]

Meet Alma and Lily!

Before their unfortunate deaths, they were Joan’s most important people ever, her best friends.

Quick lil explanation for da sisters!

Alma was the oldest, standing at 5’2 feet tall, I would say 32-34 years old and usually tired due to endless studying. She was the most spiritually connected of her sisterhood, being able to see ghosts and exorcise them and be able to see the future, though sometimes being misleading until the event happens. She could speak many languages, one of them being Japanese. She had that resting chill face and always seemed calm and collected by the public but her sisters knew she was a chaotic and eccentric woman, often getting messy when doing experiments with Lily. She was a lesbian, loved women that could kick her ass, lol. She was the one who wrote most of the spells on the Häxa codex with the help of Lily. Indigo was more her color scheme.

Joan was the middle sister, standing at 6’2 feet tall, I would say 30-32 years old, she was (before the Bishops) a very loud and proud woman. Imagine Bakugo but less of a prick. Anyway, she wasn’t as magically inclined as her sisters were before the Häxa hat but she was the physically strongest so she acted as a protector to them and the village they lived in. She was smart but had difficulty learning new languages so she often looks confused when someone speaks in a language other than Swedish. She is demiromantic and demisexual, most likely never having a relationship until after her sisters’ passing. She was the one who found all the weapons that were included in the Häxa hat. Lavender was more her color scheme (obviously).

Lily was the youngest, standing at 5’6 feet tall, I would say 28-30 years old, being the more charismatic of the sisters. Always loving and caring, she did have her feisty side, especially when it involved her sisters. Not as spiritually inclined as Alma but not as lacking as Joan, Lily fell more in the middle, turning to mostly potions to help out around the village and became the alchemist, often harvesting materials for said potions. She was bisexual and would have had a husband and kids if she hadn’t been killed.  Helped document the beasts they faced in the Häxa codex. Pink was more her color scheme.

Bonus facts:

Alma faced a horrifying beast while half asleep and just pet it before leaving

Lily can handle spice pretty well

Joan is a lightweight

When I close my eyes, I can’t see’ kinda thing

Alma would have had a lot of adopted kids if she had the chance

Lily probably cussed someone out in flower language

Joan’s voice claim would be Mitsuki Bakugo’s English dub VA

Alma would ask a lot of questions when meeting someone new

People often think Alma be the youngest sister and Joan be the oldest

(Lily technically belongs to @ikari-shinsei cause she the incarnation of one of their OCs lol-)

[daisychain-productions]

An act of sisterhood.

I have 4 sisters, my older sister is my god sister and our relationship has had some incredibly turbulent times. There have been moments where it was best for our souls and our relationship to disengage so we can go on our separate journeys. However this most recent journey has brought us back together and she has been an incredible support to me and my husband as we take some time to focus on our mental health, and I have been encouraging her on her journey back to herself after an incredibly abusive relationship that I as her little sister get to "I told you so" her about quite often (with love obviously).

Coming back to your identity after losing it to a partner can be incredibly difficult, especially when you have BPD (borderline personality disorder). BPD is a disorder that is born out of abuse in your formative years, that affects how you perceive yourself and your relationships with others. One of the most violent "symptoms" is an immense feeling of the fear of being abandon, and when you lose someone like a spouse or a sibling (especially if they have received the title of "Favorite Person") it can completely shatter the sense of self that you've unintentionally formed around that person. Because of my sisters impending divorce and the "Romantic Hiatus" my husband and I are taking, my sister and I have been exploring who we are outside of these relationships together, and part of that has been making art with each other. This piece was created during one of our Doodle Dates as she's been the guiding hand on my learning journey for digital art (she got me my drawing tablet). It is a reflection of her beauty and softness as she learns to be kind to herself and put her needs first again.

When I finished the drawing I couldn't for the life of me figure out a background that would be true and meaningful to my perception of her. I thought about a sunset, as we have fallen into a very nocturnal ritual of spending our lonely nights together. However I wanted to incorporate something real and tactile. So I went through all my nature photography and found a beautiful photo of a lavender garden that perfectly encapsulates her calm, levelheaded nature. She Has Been working so hard to self actualize after leaving her wife, and although she's not used to hearing it I know and see every day that she is beautiful, and I wanted her to be able to see it herself.

[warningsine]

The gaucho Martín Fierro, the creation of poet José Hernández, is one of the great figures of Argentinian literature: a singer who relates the camaraderie and hardship of cowboy life. But in Cámara’s International Booker-shortlisted novella, first published in Spanish in 2017, he’s a bit-part player in a wild trip across the pampas that leaves traditional gender roles in the dust.

The book follows China, Fierro’s neglected wife, who leaves her poor village to join a Scottish adventurer called Liz who has a wagon well stocked with curry leaves, cakes, lavender-scented sheets and literature. The pair travel across the plains towards an army camp and the territory of the Iñchiñ people, where Liz has a land claim. Nature is ever-present: the guinea pig tunnels that honeycomb the pampas, the limpid rivers of the north, the heat that sets the land ablaze “like a wet stone in the midday sun”.

The Adventures of China Iron sets British industry and Argentine expansion against the sisterhood of the wagon and an indigenous society of fluid genders and magic mushrooms. Sentences bound on from one page to another, seeming almost as long as the vignette-like chapters, in a thrilling and mystical miniature epic. This story, drunk on words and visions, is an elegy to the land and its lost cultures.

[femmptation]

Lesbian Joy is so much more than sex tbh

Don’t get me wrong, the sex is great, but There is something so beautiful in learning to love your lesbian identity. In the care and sisterhood and love in the community even between strangers.

Lesbian joy is a femme giving a butch the haircut they always wanted but never got. Its two butches playfighting and not caring about how loud or distracting they are. Its two femmes going bra or swimsuit shopping together and allowing themselves to compliment each other without worrying about seeming like a creep.

Lesbian joy is in the little things. The tiny nods in lavender tattoos or carabiners on belt loops.

Lesbian joy is mentorship, and group acknowledgement of how much Sailor Moon impacted us all when we were young, and community, and looking out for each other, and its fucking beautiful.

[emaanwritesandwrongs]

Amateur Cocktails

2/16/23 I shut the door to my apartment in attempts to keep the sticky Texas heat out. Summer had come early. Again. How many times were we going to pretend that summer had come early, before we accepted it as a new normal? That we needed to start teaching kindergarteners that summer begins in April, and ends in, well, November? But to also tell them: really that doesn’t mean the heat is gone in the latter months, it lingers around making sudden appearances every few weeks. “Did you miss me?” The heat will cry. “Did you forget about me?” God the sun is standing uncomfortably close.  The stuffy heat reminds me of strange men’s breath on the back of my neck. Some of them loitered at my work. They’ll forget I’m just another working employee behind the bar. They’ll see right through me as if confronting me for who I really am. Until I am painfully aware of whatever femininity I ultimately blame myself for showing off. I make a mental note to dress duller next time. The men are generally harmless, I know, but when they come close it is suffocating. “Did you miss me?” “Did you forget about me?” 

I’m roused from my thoughts as I’m met with a cool burst of air. Peeling off the damp smells of the city from my body, I collapse onto the depressed dent in my couch. Now that I’m indoors and separate from the surrounding world, I can tell how much I reeked of gasoline. Walking through the city does that to you, I guess. 

A gentle buzz from my phone reminds me of you. Instead it’s another automated text message reminding me of my last chance at some sort of sale. I punch in the letters “STOP,” and lean back to remember you. I do this a lot.  There was a time where we were very close. In all ways except distance. This virtual arrangement was no issue to me. I could sporadically update you about the littlest events throughout my day. And we would spend the hours before sleep recounting our different complaints and celebrations. I’d like to say we avidly agreed on most things. But really what kept things so interesting were our arguments. You were always wrong, and so was I. And somehow both of us being wrong was the strongest trait we had in common. Our lostness tied us together as we felt we were the only two truly questioning and navigating the world around us.

Or so I thought. A little over a year passed by, and you escaped our depressive interpretation of the world and into the physical arms of someone else’s embrace. To picture you leaving your cynical world and feeling love, connectedness and comfort is disturbingly beautiful. It gives me hope, but more so it makes my stomach sink to depths I want to forget. I was right here. But I wasn’t. I was a couple thousand miles away and we both knew that. And that one time I did visit you - I didn’t feel present. And because of that things had changed. I didn’t perform well. I didn’t meet the expectations set on me. I didn’t finish. I couldn’t finish. You touched me and I had to teach my body to feel good. I had to train my brain to release dopamine in response. But with the way I pushed myself to concentrate, while you were trying to make me feel good, I was probably releasing cortisol instead.  I’m at a constant war with these slimy chemicals. The fluids that my hypothalamus decides which out of them my pituitary gland should excrete. Are any of those words even real? Biology has opened a new and daunting door of self-awareness.  I trick my body by taking a combination of estrogen and progesterone. They stabilize my dramatic mood swings, prevent painful cramps, and make sex “safe.” You know, to stop me from shooting out a child for any moment you touch me. I imagine the two hormones to be sisters. They probably dress in pinks and lavenders and skip down my glands while holding hands. They take turns braiding each others hair. They hold each other while watching scary movies. And wipe away each others tears as they share their pain. I feel their sisterhood mocking me. 

I open a private browser and damn myself to the pits of Reddit. For the same reasons every other person privately browsing Reddit is: to ask any variation of the age old question “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???” Why don’t I desire you the way I should. Why can’t I find myself to desire anyone else. Even at work the other bartenders enjoy the witty flirting back and forth. But I can’t help but feel it all to be pointless and draining. I guess I don’t have to be sexy in order to survive or anything. I don’t have to engage in sex if I don’t want to. No one is making me do or be anything really. But there’s a part of me that yearns to exercise my sex. I want to want to enjoy these feelings, I confirm to myself. And I want to to be fun, a smaller voice whispered to myself. So I swindle down the rabbit hole of different forum links and come to the self evaluated conclusion that, get this, I lack testosterone. 

Somehow those two little girls were working so hard with their fancy female hormones that I ended up feeling less of a woman than I ever have before. Like literally. All the estrogen and progesterone has shrunken my clit. Like a victim to phantom limb syndrome, it feels cold and absent where my clitoris is supposed to be, Doctor. The cure is to man up and grow some balls, he tells me.  How has my body reached this stage? Why are my hormones all wrong? How do I train my endocrine system to do things right for once? I imagine my little pituitary gland fumbling different bottles and bitters into a cocktail shaker that he stupidly lets spill everywhere. Who let this guy in charge? I grit my teeth and once again let the heat take over my mind and the cortisol wave over my body.

A strange man’s breath on my neck. I look up it’s you. I yelp and push the body away. Behind you stand two little twin girls who stare through me. They are donned in blue dresses this time. The heat, the sweltering sun. The walk back home along the expressway. The smell of testosterone in my clothes. My body opening up and freeing my glands from their suffering. You look back at me. “Is this okay?” The sisters watch me waiting on my response. They glance to the side as if to urge me: go on, tell him. “DID YOU MISS ME?” I want to ask him. Instead I wait until he is done and distracted, so I can slip a couple bills of testosterone from his wallet into my shaker. I edge out of the scene.

[wisteriasandlavender]

Wisterias And Lavender

The passing of time is the wisteria vine

Who gently weeps for its sorrowed sister

And the lavender that speaks of peace and quiet

Will reach her hands out to the weeping one

Their embrace of sisterhood that is strengthened by the wind's soft breeze

Will seal out our heart's broken tears

So next time you see wisteria and lavender

Know that they are there for you

~w&l <3

[victoriansimmer]

The Sullys

Nestled in the foothills at the edge of New Whitby, the Sully family started another day tending to their cows, sheep, and lavender field. While some Sullys have risen beyond the lower-middle class (such as Louisa, who married Cornelius King), little has changed for this main line of the family over the generations.

Third generation heir and head-of-household Alston now resides in the cottage with his wife, Christa.

Together, they run the farm with their twin daughters, Margaret and Nora.

The girls have been best friends for as long as they could remember. However, recently, their relationship had been strained due to the constant work needed to upkeep the farm.

The Sullys ran the local Creamery, providing cheese, milk, cream, and butter to New Whitby. Their last calves had just grown into adults, their mothers no longer producing milk. What was once a busy and chaotic season of their lives has now dwindled to maintaining the farm, aging their cheeses, and selling the last of their wares at the shop.

Alston and Christa were eager to produce an heir, and certainly didn't mind trying for one.

Unfortunately, they hadn't noticed that all of the farmwork had taken its toll on Margaret and Nora. What was once a happy friendship and sisterhood . . .

. . . had finally devolved into a budding rivalry.

Lonelier than ever on the farm, Nora started toeing into singular hobbies, such as bug collection. Not all was lost, however, when she realized that science was her One True Hobby.

Christa, newly pregnant and overwhelmed with work, didn't know what to do about her daughters. She decided it best to simply let them be and hope the tensions fizzled out.

At the end of the day, Christa had plenty of other things to worry about. Sully Creamery was level 4, and bursting with business. She found it hard to maintain the energy needed to stand at the register all day. By the time she got home, she had little energy to spare on Margaret and Nora. It wasn't that she didn't care, but rather that some things fell to the side in this pace of life.

Another scourge of sickness has been drifting through town, so it was time for Alston to pull out the genie's lamp one more time. Because New Whitby employs a doctor, I allow use of the (modded) genie's lamp to cure the plague periodically.

Much to Christa's relief, Margaret and Nora eventually settled on neutral terms and began speaking again. They had each been spending time focusing on their hobbies (Margaret on chess, Nora on collecting specimens), and as a result their moods and aspiration meters were no longer desperately in the red.

As Christa practiced her tai chi in the front yard, a daily habit to keep her aching and swollen body limber, she felt relieved that the new baby would be entering a more peaceful household.

Late into a summer evening, little Francisca (Frannie) Edye Sully joined the farm.

With good weather and plentiful harvests, it was time for the Sullys to give back to the land providing for them. They planted young saplings in the front yard, and often took breakfast beneath the nectarine tree.

Of course, Alston and Christa knew that their childbearing years were not behind them, and continued to put effort into an heir.

As summer drifted into fall, Frannie aged up into a toddler.

And Margaret (left) and Nora (right) respectively aged up into teenagers. Upon aging up, ACR rolled their gender preferences (a new randomized mechanism put into place at the start of Season 2 of New Whitby). Margaret will be accepting male suitors, and Nora female.

[juniaships]

Assigning squishmallows to the Wonderful Ones + Immorta & Vorkken

Reasoning under the cut

From top lefthand corner: Cardinal/Wonder Red, Peacock/WonderBlue, Apple/WonderGreen, Fox/WonderPink, Cat/WonderWhite, Lion/WonderYellow, Penguin/WonderBlack, Cardinal/Vorkken, Pink Cat/Immorta

Octopi is a symbol of creativity and overcoming challenges, a major theme of the game. Who better than the lead hero to have this plush? Being a teacher and all Wonder Red is already pretty smart, can think outside the box and gets everyone to cooperate for the best results. Octopi is also said to show willpower coincidentally Red's civilian name is Will

Wonder Blue is one of the most prideful members of the team. He also likes to show off his power and good looks, similar to a male peacock. Peacocks represent protection and sisterhood; Blue learned the importance of brotherhood and protecting others. The irony is the peacock squishmallow is actually a girl named Priscilla 😂

Apple represents plus the irony of a fresh fruit for a charcater obsessed with sweets (it's even said in canon that junk food is his forbidden fruit)

I was going to give Wonder Pink a cat but a better animal for her would be a Fox. Because of her beauty, teasing and temper, a fox embodies those traits. But is also means protection, which we see in her career as a hero and her caring behavior towards Luka. And tbh I know she got a shirt to match the tiedye patterns!

On the other hand, a cat fits Momoe's personality perfectly. Specifically a white cat. Besides symbolizing good luck something the team had a lot of it also represents purity and Momoe is one of the least flawed members of the team.

Wonder Yellow's strength doesn't just come from his muscles but from his heart. So a lion best fits that. Lions also go with military power and it seems that Wonder Yellow has that sort of aesthetic. Plus it would be so cliche to give the Russian guy a bear and it doesn't fit him anyways.

It was challenging finding a squishmallow for Wonder Black that isn't a cat or a bat. But I figured a penguin fits, as that animal symbolizes adaptability, a trait Wonder Black utilizes in his crafts. And being a gamer you have to adapt to whatever level you're playing. Plus the irony of an apathetic person carrying around a cheery lookin toy is freaking hilarious! XD

Now I wanted to make cardinal Wonder Red's plush since it goes with his story, but it fits Vorkken more. Someone trapped by his tragic past and had to learn to let it go.

We got another feline everyone! Immorta would love a cat because of its elegance, but also it is usually a symbol of femininity (her heart motif) and independence.

BONUS! My self insert Wonder Lavender/Wonder Angel would have a stingray to show her struggles with choosing a path in life but learning to simply experience life; her/my high sensitivity and valuing peace and harmony over blind chaos. Plus I had a stingray squishmallow! Or a unicorn, representing mystery/mystical, purity health and joy, which are also traits my SI have being the "shield" of the core team.

[nghtsistr-a]

he sits down next to her on the rooftop of pyloon's. his lips twist into a somewhat smug grin as he looks at her & then to the star-filled sky. ❛ kata told me that she thinks you like me. i wonder what gave her that idea. say mer, do you know why she would think that ? ❜

❝smugness does not suit you, cal kestis.❞ she tries to sound aloof, tries to appear wholly unaffected by him, but it's a lie, and a blatant one at that. it suits him too much —she likes it too much. the roguish way his lips curl, the amusement dancing in his eyes, how warm his teasing sounds. ——far, far too much. and there's nothing she can do to fight the burning lavender blush, blazing over her cheeks, except tear her gaze away from him and stare studiously out at the swirling koboh night.

❝it seems i will have to teach kata about the importance of sisterhood, and keeping each others secrets.❞ for whatever good it will do; kata is entirely too invested in merrin's relationship with her jedi, and she doubts a stern lecture will deter the child from meddling. besides, merrin's feelings don't seem to be nearly as much of a secret as she says they are.

a different tactic, then. though her cheeks are still hot and flushed, and her stomach swoops when she looks back to him, she teases right back, ❝— lucky that i do, jedi.❞ he cuts a striking profile in the low lights of the rooftop, which does her traitorous heartbeats no good. ❝who knows the kind of trouble you'd be in if i still did not,,❞

[slaanxsh]

Woehounds

The Fallen Sons of Khorne

There are few things a Bloodthirster fears and almost none of them involve battle and it's consequences. Kharneth's fury is about the only thing that can make even the proudest of Deathbringers crawl under the nearest skull pile, but being fated to become a Woehound is a close second. The Prince's Realm and his Pleasure Daemons do not only capture Mortals for their sordid games. Daemons are on offer as well, with a special place reserved for Khorne's Greatest Sons.

Bloodthirsters who fall within Slaanesh's realm may be taken and restrained, where the insidious magics of the rings change them from beasts of Khorne into creatures more fit to wear to the Prince's colors and titles. Commonly, these are the Circles of Vainglory and Indolence, the former choked with strangling vines and the latter from sleep-inducing sands. Over a lengthy period of time, the Bloodthirster will transform in a Woehound. Also called Painbringers, these lumbering bovine beast sport skin of lavender and their temperaments are far more mellow compared to proper Bloodthirsters.

They are still surly beast, still dangerous, and rather uncommon; it isn't unusual to see to see a troupe of daemonettes trailing after one. It isn't unusual to see that same group of daemonic handmaidens be viciously saved in turn, either. Sisterhoods of daemonettes may harangue the beast at their own peril, but only the Keepers or especially daring Heralds have the temerity to capture and keep a Woehound. There are many reasons for this, with the most common one being status. Like any rare hound, they show off the owners prestige in owning such a creature.

But Woehounds are never tame and a pleasure daemon may here the odd tale or two of a careless Keeper being savaged by their beloved 'pet'. For Bloodthirsters, the Painbringers are an affront to their existence and considered abominations. Perhaps with even more fervor and hatred towards them, than any Slaaneshi, Bloodthirsters destroy Woehounds without hesitation, and in doing so, salvage some of their kin's honor.

But this is no easy task. Painbringers retain their strength from their time in the Blood Legions and often heavier from a life of indolence and grazing on the sweet grasses over the realm. They often outweigh their brass-skinned kin considerably and fight with a sadistic zeal akin to their new neighbors. Indeed, many Bloodthirsters fall prey to this fate whilst trying to "restore" the honor of a fallen brother.

[twistedeuphoria]

“The spring came suddenly; the rains stopped, the days grew noticeably longer, and the afternoon light felt powdery, as if it might blow away.”

Hair: DOUX - Nomi Hairstyle Clothing: ISON - melissa puff sleeve

Pose: Ana Poses - Sisterhood II

Scene: Apple Fall New Gatekeepers' Lodge dust bunny . wisteria bar cart . natural (New! @ anthem) ..::THOR::.. Weekend Brunch Tray (New! @ Access) ..::THOR::.. Weekend Cooler Bag (New! @ Access)

New! @ kustom9 Apple Fall Cedar Lattice Gate - Double White Apple Fall Lush Boxwood Hedge ..::THOR::.. Picnic Basket ..::THOR::.. Boho Ukulele ..::THOR::.. Rolled Blanket ..::THOR::.. Picnic Blanket ..::THOR::.. Wicker Pouf - bonus -Garden- by anc "Perdita" lavender field

[giraffe-lesbian]

Hidden Connotations - Dinahbabs Blurb

Wrote this for @aiyasbs because she left me many headcanons to chose from, and I just went for it!! 

A blurb set after Birds of Prey issue #85, the one where Barbara has to go through surgery to remove the Brainiac virus. Instead of Canary fighting off the bad guys during most of it, though, she spent her time either by Barbara’s side or making her one too many flower arrangements.

Also, I wanted to note: I was definitely inspired by Gail Simone's characterization for Black Canary when writing this. I just love the playfulness and sincerity she brings to the character, and I just love how she just... cares so much. So I tried to mimic that, hopefully, and I also made her the nervous party for once which... Not sure how much it fit, but it was actually quite fun and I might just explore it again. 

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42779022

Hidden Connotations

“Dinah,” Barbara crooned, shaking her head with a smile. She was on the cusp of laughter, but she was trying not to. Not with all this love surrounding her in this room. “Dinah, you’ve brought enough flowers.”

Arrangements of alstroemerias, collections of chrysanthemums, samples of sunflowers. Flowers of friendship, Dinah had told her.

Those and a dozen more flowers that Barbara didn’t know the names of adorned the hospital room. They were struggling to find space for them all in that small room. Dinah just kept bringing more and more. Her flower shop had to be bare.

(The blonde, really, just didn’t know what else to do.)

“This is the last one, I swear,” Dinah promised. She’s holding just one bouquet in her hands. Only this time, it just feels different. Something else hangs in the air other than the sweet aroma from the flowers and antiseptic.

Dumps of daisies, huddles of hydrangeas, lots of lilacs and lilies. Flowers of family, Dinah had murmured.

“I’m going to be fine, Dinah, the worst part of the surgery’s over-“ Barbara began to remind her as that nagging feeling of tenderness rose in her chest. Oh, to be cared for, to be looked over, to be dotted upon like this… Barbara hated it normally, despised it, but with Dinah, she had admittedly grown to like the attention.

(But she can’t have that, so she needs to let it wilt. Flowers of friendship, flowers of family, Barbara reminded herself.)

“These ones have something to say. Like, actually something to say,” Dinah blurted out, "Not like the ones before didn't, but these ones definitely do." This caught the redhead off guard, and for the moment, all she can do is stare up at Dinah from her hospital bed. Slowly, the hacker brought her hand up to her chin and tilted her head. Dinah was… nervous?

The blonde looked back at her, her mouth a straight but quivering line. She was worse for wear. Her blonde hair was a mess, unwashed and unkept. She was wearing the same shirt from before Barbara had surgery, an old band T-shirt, now wrinkled and with a collection of stains. The skin beneath her eyes had grown dark, and her usually bright hydrangea blue eyes looked worn and tired.

And yet, that didn’t dull their usual sweetness and care despite it all.

“What are these ones?” Barbara asked, peaking up at the bouquet. She had always liked hearing Dinah talk of their meanings. What would this bouquet represent? Sisterhood?

(The thought of that pricked Barbara like a thorn, but she swallowed it down. It went down slow like honey without a single drop of sweetness.)

“Roses,” the blonde replied with a curt nod. She was now bouncing on the balls of her feet, biting her lip. “And tulips with some lavender, since you like lavender.”

“What do they mean?”

“They signify love,” Dinah answered simply. She was able to keep the other woman’s gaze, and the crunch of the bouquet paper as she fiddled with it filled the room. She was trying so hard to downplay it. “Romantic love, specifically, or just, you know, a big fat ‘I love you.’”

Ramblings of roses, tangles of tulips, loads of lavender. Flowers of love, Dinah had just stammered.

Wait, she did?

And when Barbara doesn’t respond for a moment, all the Black Canary can mumble is an “Oh cripes, did I-?”

But then, the redhead was beaming at her. Barbara reached out for her, fighting back giddy laughter. “Oh. Oh, Dinah, Dinah, come here.”

***

A few weeks later, Dinah came back from a mission to a piece of paper laying on the kitchen table. It was littered with the most bizarre collection of ones and zeroes she had ever seen, and it was just as startling to her. She was trying to figure out why something like this would ever need to be made when Barbara rolled over to her, a large smile already sneaking its way onto her phase.

“What is this, Babs?” Dinah asked, pointing a single finger at a row of finely printed zeroes and ones.

“It’s binary code!” Barbara began to explain, her excitement already pouring over into her words. Dinah was always partial to when the redhead began to geek out, and this was no different. “It’s basically what computers run on. It can be really complex, but at a basic level, it mainly just codes for text. Every letter or symbol on the computer is represented with its own special sequence of ones and zeroes.”

“Well, what’s it say?”

“Well, if we input it into a computer-“

“Dumb it down, please,” Dinah teased her, the affection spilling off her words.

That made Barbara chuckle. Shaking her head, she replied, “It just says ‘I love you too.’”

Zangles of zeroes, oodles of ones, calculations of code. This is how I say ‘I love you’ back, Barbara informed her.

Dinah kissed her on the spot.