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Emily
Encanto BrainrotJulieta and Agustín Simp AccountWith other stuff thrown in here and there
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GUYS CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT
AVATAR KYOSHI AND AANG DOLLS
AND SKY BISON CHILDREN'S ART
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really struggling to keep it together as LEAVES FROM THE VINE PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND OF LU TEN’S FUNERAL?!? like it’s playing so gently while I sob hysterically!? excuse me!??!?! currently needing 7-10 business days to recover hold please
#live action avatar#avatar the last airbender#uncle iroh#prince zuko#iroh#atla#leaves from the vine#atla spoilers#um excuse me what#currently UNWELL
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Avatar Kyoshi: Delicious, finally some good fucking food.
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my love for this show is stronger than tumblr's insistence to flag this post
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abijah fowlers favorite emoji: 👺👺👺
#blue eye samurai#abijah fowler#bes#like good for him for getting pegged like damn#I only think of him when now when I see it
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yes! he was such a good villain with like the best amount of creepiness and nastiness. every time he came on screen, I just thought about how nasty he was. my partner also was like damn he is a good villain.
redeeming quality: he could have squished the little spider in the chapel but he didn’t 🥹 other than that nothing, and I mean, nothing else.
I tried explaining why I like abijah as a villain so much to my partner today and all I did was ramble about how he's weird and layered and evil without a single redeeming quality and I think he's actually worse than what any of us think but none of this explained why I actually enjoy his villainess.
I'm just marge simpson holding an abijah shaped potato. I just think he's neat.
#blue eye samurai#in a lifetime of evil at least he didn’t add animal cruelty to the list!#that last spider sentiment is clearly for jokes#the man is heinous#nasty#and i can never use this 👺 again
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the fic I didn’t know I needed 🫶🏽🩵
Dear all,
I've been watching Netflix's BLUE EYE SAMURAI and I'm in love! And I know we are going to get a season two and that Mizu's origins will probably be explained much more but I wanted to give you some headcanon already. Here's how I think Mizu came to be ________________________________________
Mizu's mother knew she was damned from the moment she laid eyes on the handsome foreigner.
Later, when it all went to hell, she'd often wondered why she fell for him so swiftly, so loudly. She cursed herself for not being able to control herself, but deep down, she knew why.
Those blue eyes.
All of her friends and suitors had dark eyes, nearly black. Her people, from lowly farmers to extravagant prostitutes, had eyes like the night. Eyes that could hide so much.
Once, left unattended, she had wandered the halls of her family urban estate, ventured beyond the walls of their dwelling at night. There was a large party going on in the town square, her parents were in attendance. She easily slipped the mind of her supervisor, an old woman that didn't dare tell her parents she was becoming too blind to take care of a six-year old.
From the shadows, a beggar had emerged, eager to take a hostage, already spending the money he'd get from her ransom.
His brown eyes had been filled with darkness.
She still remembered the panic, running away from him. He caught her all the same. What chance did a six year old have against a grown man?
She could fell his bad breath on her face as he squeezed her against his torso uncomfortably.
"I'm going to make a lot of money from you, little girl."
She screamed.
Then she felt blood splattering on her face as a samurai cut down her attacker.
"What were you doing out on your own?" he asked, kneeling down to meet her eyes. His blade was still wet with blood.
"I just wanted to... see the party..." she stammered,
"You can't!" The man sheated his sword. "Danger is everywhere for a girl like you. Do not forget that."
Her parents didn't let her go out much after that. The old lady was fired, the samurai promoted.
She'd never forgotten those dark dark eyes. But she hadn't stopped wandering, either.
Growing up a noble was quite boring. Other children could play; she had lessons in kaligraphy, weaving, economics. She was taught to read and write, how to ride horses. She snuck into the library often, reading the mightiest tales of adventure.
"A lady must know how to sew" a younger copy of the blind woman told her, when she pricked herself with a needle again. Her hair was raven black still, her hands steady.
"You are of an age to be wed now, miss. You need to be careful."
Angry, she'd stormed off to the library.
The samurai, who was now much older, gray showing in his beard, was her father's most trusted advisor and most important bureaucrat, had found her there an hour later.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Hiding."
"Why?"
"I don't want to marry. I'm not in the mood. "
He crouched, looked somber. "You will have to get better at that, then. There are few choices for a lady like you, unfortunately."
She sneered. "So I just do whatever my dad wants?"
The old man shook his head. "I'm sorry. That's the way it is."
The young girl turned her head, refusing to look him in the eye. "You're no better than the man you saved me from, all those years ago."
The old man sighed, then stood up. "Promise me only one thing, milady. "
She looked at him as he walked away.
"Do not forget danger."
And yet, despite that, she'd forgotten to do just that.
During a long boring night of trying to find a suitor, Mizu's mother slipped out of the estate, made her way to the town square.
Her supervisor, younger this time, didn't know the estate like she did, found her attention elsewhere and then couldn't find the girl once refocussed.
She went to the town square once again. This time, there was no samurai to save her.
She took a cup of strong liquor out of someone's hands, danced. The village was watching in disgust. A lady shouldn't behave like that. The noblemen weren't even near the dancing crowd.
In Japan, modesty was virtue.
But the man she danced with that night wasn't Japanese
He was loud and brazen and blue-eyed. He knew he wanted her the second he saw her.
"How are you tonight, lady?" he asked her, elegantly adjusting to her rhythm.
He was a foreigner, but she didn't care much about that. His Japanese was heavy, each word pronounced with a heavy drawl. His hands were strong.
"I'm doing well, lord."
"Could I have this dance?" he asked. Bold. Foreign.
Exiting.
She looked into his eyes. In the dim light, they seemed to shine.
She gave him her hand.
"Yes."
They danced and danced and then she found herself underneath him. He made her see stars. She was never allowed to watch those, back home. He was a powerful man, but he was kind.
When they were lying on the bed afterwards, her slowly drawing circles on his chest, she asked him what he did for a living.
He smiled. "I trade."
Suddenly, all the alarm bells were ringing. White traders in Japan were normally not smooth-skinned like this. They were criminals, trading drugs and weapons.
And humans.
"I need to leave" she said.
He pressed down on her slightly. "I don't think you do."
His eyes, warm hours before, were cold now. Not sea, but sheets of ice.
She didn't escape his grasp again. No samurai, no mentor, no one to save her, nor the baby that was developing in her belly.
For 4 years, she was trotted around Japan. She was beautiful, yes, and young. She found ways to make herself... "useful". Her parents had stopped looking for her. The old samurai had died in his bed, wondering where she was.
They were neglected, but not starved. She lived a life in a cage while her white devil traded lives, drugs and guns. While he terrorized Japan. Her only contact was with a woman of old age.
A woman of her age, she corrected. She wasn't young anymore. Not like she used to be. A kind woman, doing her best to take care of the mother and daughter.
This was not the life she wished on her child. Mizu, she'd named her. Water. After the ocean in her eyes.
One faithful day, she saw her white captor come home with another girl. She knew it wouldn't be long before she'd fall for him too.
Before her and her little baby were no longer kept around for entertainment. She needed to act, and needed to act now.
Before he decided to turn her into one of the trophies she saw hanging on the wall.
She knew of a village, by the sea. Far away from Edo, out of reach for the white bastard. Best fish in the area. She'd been there, once.
She also knew that the front door was locked with a large key only the white devil had access to.
She knew he liked it ugly. She knew where he kept his stash of ryu.
One day, when the woman came to take care of her, she made her case.
"Please help us get out of here" she begged the lady. But she shook her head.
"I can't. He'll kill me, and there is nowhere we can go. "
"Please! Haven't you seen what he does to the other kids once they are old enough to talk?"
The woman nodded. His other bastard children lived in cages, three levels lower, or were sold into slavery once they were old enough. Mizu, a pretty and blue-eyed Japanese girl, would earn the white devil a fortune.
"Please, at least take her. Take her and go far from here." Her mother pleaded. "I'll pay you to take care of her. "He keeps his money.."
"I know where he keeps his money!" The lady screamed. "Don't you think I want to get out of here too?"
The mother's voice broke. "Please. I'll do anything. I don't want this life for Mizu."
She took off her necklace. Expensive. Gold.
"Here. Sell this. I'll distract him so you can get to the key. But please, take care of Mizu."
The caretaker looked at the jewelry. It was refined gold, a large gem in the middle. She'd be able to sell that for a lot of money. Live in the countryside with a child, the one thing life had denied her.
"What about you?"
The woman smiled. She lifted the hem of her shirt. A large black spot showed, just below her ribcage. Red streaks were already creeping up her arms.
"He hit me three days ago. Had all his rings on. Broke the skin, and he didn't clean his hands after trading opium."
The older woman looked, in shock. "What... what does.."
"I'll be dead soon. Too weak to make an escape myself. But I'll distract the white devil. Just promise me she will be safe."
The old woman nodded, pocketed the necklace. "I promise."
"His gold is in a locker. 5.000 ryu. You'll need to bribe the guard and get passage away from here."
She nodded, planning her escape. The two women looked at each other. About the same age, one weakened by sepsis, the other terrified of the life ahead of her.
"Thank you"
They nodded to each other.
Three hours later, she sat nearly naked at the dinner table, hands shaking. Mizu was with the other woman, ready to run.
When the white man came in, fresh from the port, he looked suprised. But then he grinned, slid his hands over her exposed shoulders. "What are you doing, darling?."
She shivered. It wasn't cold. "I want to please you, lord."
He lifted her out of her seat, her breast pressing against his chest as she messed with his belt. Her hands were shaking so bsd she couldn't get it open.
"You Japanese woman are all the same. Whores for white cock."
The other woman snuck into the bedroom as the white man had his way with her on the table.
She lifted the key off the hinges, hid the baby in her robes, took the gold.
She disappeared like a thief in the night.
"WHERE IS MY GOLD!?" the white man thundered the day after. The sound boomed through the castle, reached the woman in her cell.
He stormed in, smacked her in the face. "Where!?"
She smiled at him. She had a high fever, could feel death approaching. She would soon meet her old samurai again. "You'll never find it. "
The white man pulled a knife. His blue eyes were cold as ice. "Where is the kid, then? The blue eyed bastard?"
"She'll never be a slave. And you won't sell her."
She felt the tip of his blade open the skin of her throat. "Tell me!" he commanded.
"You'll never find her, neither."
He let her go, roared.
When the blade came down, she was smiling.
#blue eye samurai#I love this#why do I feel inspired to write something#mizu#this show has me in a chokehold
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they’re the same picture
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Blue Eye Samurai by Jason William Scheier
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I love her pointed ears
#sitting in school mass and I’m weak to my knees right now#blue eye samurai#mizu#i love her your honor
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Blue Eye Samurai
Ep.3 A Fixed Number Of Paths
#like come on#blue eye samurai#everything about this is beautiful#the landscapes music fighting style ✨HER✨#my heart!!!
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BLUE EYE SAMURAI
I never said I was a samurai, you did. I’m on the path of revenge. There’s no place on it for love or friendship or weakness.
#i love her your honor#blue eye samurai#mizu#like I love her and I want to be her and I’m obsessed#like why is she is pretty#fierce
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You’ve Done Well
___________________________________________________
And there Korra sat, wounded and weary, as she sought solace amidst the chaos of explosions and elements. The weight of her injuries bears heavily upon her battered body, rendering movement an arduous task. With aching limbs and labored breath, she finds respite in a secluded spot, far removed from the clamor and strife that surrounds her.
She lays upon the cold, unforgiving ground, her senses sharpening, heightening her awareness of the world around her. The familiar sounds of bending and cries of anguish seem distant and muffled, as if a veil has been drawn between her and the battle between Kuvira’s troops and the people of Republic City. Time has become ethereal, stretching and distorting, as if acknowledging the gravity of the moment.
In this twilight between life and death, her mind wanders back to memories long cherished and held dear. Her thoughts drift to Asami, whose embrace kindled a fire within her heart. Fragments of memories reappear, glimmering like stars in the fading light. She yearns to hold Asami once more, to feel her warmth and hear her laughter, but the relentless march of mortality draws her further away.
Korra’s mind also wanders to her friends, her comrades who had stood side by side with her on countless battlefields, sharing triumphs and scars. She sees their faces, etched with courage and camaraderie. She remembers the shared laughter and shared burdens, the unspoken understanding that forged unbreakable bonds. Each memory makes her heart heavy with the weight of her departure.
But amidst her bittersweet reminiscing, a sense of duty persists. She knows that her time has come, that her final breaths on this mortal coil are fast approaching. She gazes up at the sky, painted crimson by the setting sun, a serene acceptance settles within her soul. She watches as several spirits fly above where she sits. A beautiful kaleidoscope of colors. She looks over her shoulder and her eyes find the lifeless body of Kuvira on the ground, lying crumpled amongst the debris of her own creation.
“I tried to save you…” Korra whispers.
“You’ve done well, Avatar Korra.” Korra looks up, her vision slightly blinded by the ethereal glow of Raava. A warmth grows through her body, dispelling the cold that was quickly taking her. The spirit hovers over her, emotionless but carrying a demeanor of sadness. Such an odd scene, Korra thinks. “The world has once again been given a chance to survive. Thanks to you.”
With labored breaths, Korra smiles, a small stream of tears rushing down her cheeks. She can’t find her words. She knows Raava isn’t expecting her to answer. The spirit knows that what she said was exactly what the young Avatar needed to hear. The warmth fades just as quickly as it appeared, and Korra watches Raava gently fly away. Korra whispers a silent farewell to the world she’s known, wishing well to Asami and all her friends she’s cherished. In her last moments, she finds solace with the knowledge she had fought valiantly, loved passionately, and lived a life worthy of living.
And as the darkness envelops her, Korra’s spirit ascends, soaring through the crimson sky. A warm breeze covers her, her hair flowing in its currents. A long, weak sigh escapes her lips. In a moment, she blinks and her surroundings change. No longer is she in the crumbled remains of Republic City. She is now in a vibrant field of green grass and bright-colored flowers.
“Welcome, Korra.”
Korra turns around quickly, the familiar voice filling her ears like a comfortable blanket. Standing with a large, sad smile was Iroh, as well as many of his spirit friends, each with a welcoming demeanor as they stared at her.
“We’ve been waiting for you.” Iroh says warmly. He turns and motions toward a long table adorned with tea cups and various food items. And sitting at the table, his legs crossed, showing off an air-bending trick to a spirit, is Avatar Aang. Korra’s mouth drops as fresh tears swell in her eyes. Aang looks up and smiles at her.
“So, a giant laser shooting mech, huh?” Aang chuckles. “I want to know everything.”
#this made my heart hurt and warm at the same time#i'm crying but like this is beautiful#legend of korra#my friend wrote this and it's lovely#<3
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mulder & scully as texts
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(this may end up being a series bc i have in fact made tons of these woops🧍♀️)
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THE X FILES - 6x20 - ‘Three of a Kind’
#drugged scully is normal gillian
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The X-Files rewatch
↳ Season 6 | episode 19 - The Unnatural [3]
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