#But that doesn't mean you should send me more

[lilianalovespink]

CW- reader is asleep whilst most of this happens!!!, Non-con, unprotected p-in v sex, (slight) degradation, defloration, size difference, Simon is drunk

The bird's been bothering Simon all evening.

She's not his type, she's way too pushy and most importantly, she keeps on sending nasty looks to the captains daughter, simply because you had the audacity to smile and wave at Simon, which was enough to make him have to readjust himself in his pants.

"You know what- Simon you're an ass-!"

Well, that's his bird gone. In tears of upset, she leaves him at the bar and not two seconds later, you go out after her. 'God' the man thinks to himself 'if you're that nice to people who glare at you all evening, how nice are you to folks that are nice back?'

After you come back in there's a slight frown on your face as you invite him to sit with you, your father and the rest of the team.

"Don't you think you could apologize to Meredith?She's a nice woman and you made her cry-" Simon sees his captains hand squeeze your thigh, and you shut yourself up, though not without a confused look towards your father.

"But she is right; I'm sure if you we're nicer to your birds, they'd stay longer." This time, it's your father speaking. Simon doesn't believe that.

After all, he's never seen Kyle been more than a little nice to you, and you're still all over him.

He wonders if you and your little unofficial boyfriend have already had sex, or if he has more tact than Simon and will wait until your father's gone out somewhere?

Pretty little captain's daughter, always all dolled up and sweet and caring, he can't help it that his cock chubs up at that. After all, you're even nice to him. Even though he adjusts his cock in front of you and keeps eye contact during that.

What can he say? You're the sweetest girl he knows.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Later when they've all gone to bed in the inn, he gets up to take a piss at night. 'Geez, maybe you should stop drinking so much?' Yeah right, the blonde thinks to himself.

Maybe.

Stumbling back to his room in complete darkness whilst still inebriated is...difficult, but he can manage. Though he doesn't remember his room smelling like vanilla and strawberries, the door was agape and he's left his like that too.

He wants nothing more than to stumble into bed, get one out into his fist to the though of his captain's girl, and go to sweet, sweet nightmare land, but even while drunk, he can tell there's someone already under the covers.

Ah. So that's why it smells so sweet. Didn't he send his bird away? Well, if she snuck into his bed, he'd give her what she was hoping for and send her off once he's turned her brain to mush.

"Pathetic' Slag. Acting all huffy at dinner and then sneaking into my bed?"

She stirred. Was she asleep? Well, that didn't matter. Pressing her head into the pillows and pulling her ass up, he had to choke back a mean laugh at her nightwear.

"The hell you wearing pyjamas for? Trying to hide that you're a whore?"

No matter, these could come off just like a night gown. It seems like she finally woke up when he yanked her pants off, considering the body beneath him started fussing and thrashing slightly.

"Can't put it in 'less you stay still."

He grunted,rubbing his cock along her- fuck where those just regular cotton panties? Shouldn't she be wearing a thong?

"What, didn't feel the need to pretty yourself up for me even a little bit?" He buffs as he slaps her ass and yanks down her underwear just enough to expose her holes.

In the dark, it was kind of difficult to find the right entrance, but when he felt her folds, he also found the proper hole (or at least the one he wouldn't be yelled at for using), nudging his blunt, thick head against it and pushed in.

"Fucking- tight like a goddamm virgin-!" The scarred man grunted, having to force in inch after inch.

"S-STOP-" the voice in the pillow muffled, so he pressed her face down harder. Shouldn't have snuck into his bed expecting anything but this. He'd make sure she'd learn that, despite her thrashing and muffled crying.

Strange though, that that voice sounded sweet like the doll's voice. He smirked when he thought of her; after all, wasn't he doing a great job making it up to his bird?

Heavy as he knew he was, he still put all his weight into the thrusts that made the bed creak as it bounced against the wall, halfway leaned over the soft body beneath him, his chest completely covering the entirety of the back who's muscles flexed and relaxed the entire time.

He buried his face in her neck, allowing him to hear the moaning and the whimpering and the crying so much better. Huh. Strange. His bird was really starting to sound like the sweet girl probably fast asleep in her father's arms.

Maybe that was just the alcohol. Letting him hear what he wanted but couldn't have. Mocking him since a mutt like him couldn't get sweet girls like her. No, the sweet and caring girls were for boys like Kyle who'd at least pretend to be soft and gentle.

Not for Simon. Never ever for Simon.

The speed and power behind his thrusts intensified until he felt himself clench up, placing a hand on her belly as he shot his seed into her.

Fuck the bulge he felt temporarily mis-shaping her warm belly could make him go at least two more rounds.

She was probably on birth control, yeah?

Finally, since he got his peak, he pulled back out to find her leaking with his cum and her arousal, though the latter was awfully thin in texture.

And then the scent hit him. That was blood.

His eyes widened as he let go of her head, already cursing slightly as she sobbed and then-

"H-HELP....!"

In all of 20 seconds the light in the room turned on, making Simon huff until his eyes widened for a second time in two minutes, since the person who had turned the lights on was no other than his captain, and the little thing sobbing into her hands and leaking his spend was no other than-

"GET OFF OF MY DAUGHTER!"

[nuggeteri]

hello hello i see you are a flower ranchers enjoyer, i am The flower ranchers guy would you like to talk abt them :>

Oh my god I was writing you a one-shot and my fucking website just fucking glitched and erased all of it. Welp. Back to writing I go (another concept though because I am not rewriting the same shit twice)

Also my DMS are open if that's what you meant :333

.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asks, looking from right to left---almost worried to be getting caught.

Scott doesn't know why he even bothers. They're in the BamBunker and it really wasn't that big. It could all be seen from one look. He guesses it only emphasized on how anxious Scott was about the idea.

Scott doesn't think it should be against the rules if it's his power. He nods.

"Well, okay, but you can't say I gave you permission, alright?" He warns and Scott knows that Jimmy wouldn't do anything even if he didn't listen. Scott agrees anyway. "Yup. Sure. Now let me."

With only minimal sounds of protests, Jimmy turned around, back facing Scott, which the shirt the blond was wearing having two rips, allowing golden small wings to pass through.

Scott knows he could've stolen Grian's wings. They were bigger and would probably get him more success. Pearl would've let him without a second thought. He could probably coherse Martyn. While Lizzie's were fake, they could certainly do the job. But if he chose anyone other than Jimmy, then they wouldn't be getting all red, hot and bothered and Scott having his hands in their wings.

"You've grown some blue feathers." He remarks as he passes a hand through them. Jimmy hiccups, gasps and chirps before managing to answer him--- "Yeah..- I guess? I mean, look at me! Still standing!" He wasn't a canary anymore,Mumbo and Skizz are indeed dead. Scott can give that to him. "Proud of you, Petal."

He passes his hand through a few more of the new feathers before activating his powers. He's not even entirely sure if it would work, but at least, trying it gave him an excuse to pass his hands over Jimmy's soft wings.

It does work. It's not painful, per say, more of uncomfortable to have his back torn off to let wings pass through, but oh well.

It also ripped his shirt and jacket--oh well. He could always ask Cleo to sew it back together afterwards. She wouldn't say not to her soulmate.

"Did it work?"

Scott chirped---it didn't come as a surprise for him, he remembered how being an Avian was from Empires season one-- and it was all Jimmy needed to get his question answered. He chirped back, and oh gosh, not only had Scott missed these Avian instincts, but it made him feel fuzzy to have his partner respond.

He doesn't show it, though. That's Jimmy's thing, as he got redder and redder by the second.

"Aww, Jimmy, are you flustered?"

"Go and catch Tango!"

Right--- because this was also what it was all about. While Scott wanted to run his hands through his boyfriend's unused wings, he also wanted to catch up on his other boyfriend who had been running all around the server not to get caught.

He knew, logically, that Tango would stop for him if he asked. After all, he was still green, and therefore not allowed to attack him. However, that wouldn't be fun.

"I'll send kisses from you his way, then!" He says before flapping his new wings and getting out of the bunker without using the ladders--which he could hear his boyfriend complaining about.

He doesn't care--- he has a mission. Find Tango.

It's not that hard. The Bamboozlers' mountain already gave a good overall view of the server--flying slightly higher made it incredible.

Tango was running circles around Spawn.

Scott dipped and glided all the way over there.

"Hey, snowbug!" He called out.

"AAAH!" Tango screams---a little loud, which makes Scotts newly obtained head wings flap back in surprise, but other wise, doesn't hurt a fly.

"Since when have you gotten wings?" He asks, flabbergasted.

"Jimmy gave them to me. Powers, remember? I can steal people's hybrid status."

"That is---amazing! Oh my, can you become a blaze hybrid?" Tango proposes and---well, it's not like Scott hadn't already considered it. There were cultural and biological traditions he and his partners couldn't practice. Like wrapping someone around a wing for Jimmy, or have flames intertwine for blazes. He wanted to try all of that. But not right now.

"Later, bug," he informs him, "You've already stolen from me!"

Tango's fire seems to spark at Scotts words---something that he finds absolutely adorable. They were all excited.

"How so?" He still manages to get out.

"Ice is my thing. It's the second time you steal it!"

-

I did get lazy towards the end soryyyy it's soon to be four AM....but flower ranchers

[1shadowhole]

Since it's once again the 24th, here comes the annual reminder from me that Kingdom Come AKA the so called BBC MERLIN'S Canonical Season 6 is actually anything but canon and was made by fans.

BBC Merlin doesn't have a Season 6

And every year people tell me "I don't think that anyone actually believes that Kingdom Come is canon" and every year I cry because no, no a lot of people do. Maybe not on Tumblr but everywhere else you always see comment threads that go a little something like this:

"omg the ending was so sad why did the writers do that?😭😭"

"don't worry! The writers actually wrote the script for Season 6 that later got cancelled, but it's online you can read it!!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THANK YOU SO MUCH"

Ahhhhhhhh

And I also make these posts for all the new, wonderful fans that don't know the whole story, who may stumble upon the Kingdom Come blog and read "the canonical ending of the show" or whatever lie the people who made it wrote and believe it to be the case. Because why wouldn't you? It's says it is! BUT IT ISN'T!!

Why am I so pressed about it?

I mean I ain't going to lie the main reason is because I don't like it and think it is a great example of character assassination and disregard of what the original show wanted to share with the finale.

But I mean there are many fanfics (and kingdom come IS a fanfic) that I think are just as bad if not worse. Why don't I also complain about them? Because it isn't my place! I can criticise some tropes but you'll never see me directly attacking a specific fic by name! It's a story someone made for free just because they like writing.

But since these creators clearly believe that their work is somehow superior and has more value than other fics, I will treat it as such! And if you wanted it to be canon so bad I will criticise it like I do with the actual show. And trust me, as much as I adore BBC Merlin I am not blind to its flaws, and I am very critical about them on here.

So yeah. I think it sucks that a lot of fans believe that's the actual ending! Even if you liked it (and so didn't think that the show ended horribly with all its morals squashed) I don't think it's right that you fell for a lie. I had conversations with people who loved it and think of it as their personal season 6 while knowing it isn't canon. And that's wonderful! But you should know the truth.

So let me repeat this one last time

BBC Merlin has no canonical season 6

I feel like I was a lot harsher and aggressive this time around. I think it's because I lost a close family member just this month, and with Christmas so close my nerves are frayed.

But my goal is to make so many of these posts that when you look Kingdom Come up you find them before the actual blog lol. So anyone reading will know not to trust what the blog says.

And to make it clear. Hidden in their posts they do say it is fanmade. But you have to look for it, and if you just want to read you won't see it.

Plus the way they make it sound, the script they sent to BBC (btw... DON'T SEND YOUR FICS TO WRITERS FFS) was actually accepted lmao. And the only issue was the actors didn't want to come back.

Sure babe, sure. That's how shows work.

Damn I'm so salty today.

Again I wouldn't talk about other fics this way, I swear.

Now go read And like the cycle of the year we begin again. Or the Change Trilogy. Both very different, but very long and amazing possible Season 6s

[hawkins-batman]

hey dude um so i saw the post you made replying to someone else's post about noah and, while i do agree with you, i don't think that you or any of the anons should be specifically finding noah antis. that just kind of starts discourse and people are allowed to express their opinions, even if they differ from yours.

i know this happened to one of my good friends recently (noihavenosanitythanksforasking) and they were kind of shook up from what happened. i'm glad that you try to educate people, and it also comes across as a bit more personal and rude than someone who just wants to help.

i'm very sorry if any of this has come across as rude, i promise that is not my intention and i'm just trying to show that those people are also just people and its not their fault that they don't have all the information. i dont know if "kindness is the key" sounds cheesy, but it is very true.

blocking them and not interacting is probably the best thing to do instead of finding them just to disagree and having anons find posts and send them to you. if you or anyone else doesn't like what someone else posts, it's best just to scroll (and even block! that is definitely an option and i see you're doing that already so good job 👍)

sorry about this ramble and when you reply to this, if you do, i just want you to know that this was sent with the best intentions and also this is not about noah, anything that happened with him, or other people's views on it. this is just about how you could deal with people with differing views from you a bit better than what you have done in the past.

kisses kisses and byler endgame, love, anon

You weren’t rude — so don’t worry! However, I am going to push back (kindly - since you were kind).

First, I suppose I should say that I don’t seek these people out. Most of them I find during my daily scrolls of socials. Other times, mutuals will link me to them, and sometimes people will send them via Ask. But I don’t go looking for “Noah antis.”

Second, and more importantly, I want you to do a hypothetical with me. You saw someone getting viciously bullied. Not a friend, but nevertheless, other people were threatening them, calling them slurs, and harassing their family. They were also spreading lies to continue to inflame others to bully them.

With me so far? You’d want to stick up for them, right? Because there’s really no pretext before which any of that behavior is okay, right?

Now imagine, a year in to this relentless bullying campaign, you STILL see people spreading the lies, getting others inflamed, reigniting the bullying again and again. Imagine you KNOW that this endless bombardment has sent them to therapy and driven them from any place that gives them joy.

Would you just ignore that? Would you turn a blind eye? Would you chalk that up to just a “different opinion”?

I hope not. Because I won’t.

I’m sorry your friend was shaken up. But I’m one person. Noah gets the treatment I just described to you from HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of people. There are hate accounts with 40K+ followers solely dedicated to posting things like this bit of homophobia:

Look at the likes on that.

And that’s one post. That doesn’t even show the ones wanting to kill him. Or do viler things.

Or how about these cheering for his suicide (EDIT —> see the bottom of the post)

He can’t just log off and ignore them or block theee people either because they send it to his home. His family. They track him in public and send his location to big accounts that will tweet it out hoping someone will hurt him.

So, I mean this with sincerity: Good. I’m glad your friend was shaken up. I hope to shake up more people before I’m done. Maybe they’ll think twice before spreading lies that inflame people to post shit like that 👆🏻

That’s not a difference of opinion. I don’t mind if people simply don’t like Noah. But be honest. Do you post about people you don’t like? No. This is not simply disliking Noah. It’s contributing to homophobia and antisemitism and it’s wrong.

And until people get their senses back, I carry on.

[evans23]

Daughter of mine V

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : Richard's daughter fell ill just before Christmas and he can only pray for a miracle.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : A bit of angst. Mention of prostitution and death. Awkward father. If I forget something, please mention it to me !

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Merry Christmas to all of you !

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

It had not taken more than one day for Catherine to fall ill after having spent the whole day outside, playing in the snow. Not a small cough or a low fever. No. A severe pneumonia.

Richard, beside himself, had threatened to fire the governess for having let his daughter rolling in the snow like a dog. Snow angels ! Only uneducated children enjoyed making snow angels. Not his daughter who had then stayed out the whole day with her damp clothes until his return.

If it hadn't been for the intervention of Anne and the butler, Richard would have fired her immediately.

"My lord, think with care how much Catherine likes her. it would break her heart to know that because of her and her illness, her governess was fired," Anne said, among a hundred other pleas that had had no effect on Richard decision.

This one, however had shaken him a little bit. Enough to make him change his mind. He didn't want to upset his daughter, not at a time when she didn't even have the strength to hold a glass of water in her hands.

It had started with a slight cough at the end of supper, a cough that had turned into an interminable coughing fit before bedtime. By the time it was time to go to bed, Catherine was burning with fever and Turpin had ordered for his doctor to be fetch urgently. The man had arrived in a hurry and had ordered that Catherine stay in bed until further notice.

"If she doesn't feel better in the morning, send someone to fetch me," he told Richard.

In the morning, Catherine was shivering, her fever had not gone down and she couldn't even stand the light of the day as her eyes made her suffer.

"Dad, it hurts everywhere in my body. Make the pain ebb away, dad," she begged Richard.

He had pretended to be indifferent to his daughter's plea in front of the servants, but as soon as he had reached his office in the Courthouse, his usual mask of coldness and stoicism had fallen, letting the worry etched on his features.

A servant had come during the day to tell him what the doctor had said. What should have just been a cold had evolved in less than one night into pneumonia. The child had to stay in bed and drink as much fluids as possible. She also had to eat a little, even if it was painful for her sore throat. It was the only way for her to keep her strength and recover.

That day, Richard had been more severe than usual, if it was possible. He had not temper justice with mercy at all. And if the man summoned to the bar had no good excuse for being sent to the Australian colonies, or better yet, hanged, he trusted The Beadle to make up an excuse so that he could administer the harshest sentences. However, for the first time, lashing out his anger in this way had done no good to him.

On his way home, he had stopped at the doctor's place to hear from him what he thought of Catherine's condition.

"Richard, she is frail, smaller than a child of her age should be and her constitution is much more fragile than normal," he had kindly answered.

"What does that mean ? She's not the first child with a weak constitution to fall ill. Many of them recover and reach adulthood. Look at that idiot of James, not only has he reached the more than respectable age of eighty years, but on top of that he has managed to reproduce himself and his son managed to do so after him, forcing me to have to put up with that bumbling of Matthew !" Turpin fumed.

It wasn't in his habits to let his emotions dominate him, but he knew that the doctor was right. Catherine was weaker than children of her age. No doubt it was due to the poor conditions in which she had grown up until she was seven, the lack of food that could have helped her grow and strengthen her immune system, the lack of time spent outdoors breathing fresh air and being in contact with other less serious diseases. Or maybe it was simply bad luck. After all, some children, even in the upper class, were born more delicate than others. At least in a rich family they were lucky enough to be treated by the best doctors and to have the best possible care. Catherine didn't sleep in a bed with rags for a blanket but in a big warm bed, in a room with a fireplace that her maid made sure to keep lit day and night. She would recover. She had to recover or Turpin wouldn't survive it, he knew it even though he tried so hard to lie to himself.

"The truth is, Richard, I cannot predict whether Catherine will recover or not. She is very young and the disease has spread in no time. It is one of the most severe pneumonias I have ever seen."

Richard looked at the doctor, disillusioned. The man had decades of experience, if he said that Catherine's condition was more than worrying, then he was telling the truth.

"But can she recover ?" Richard asked, his mask of stoicism still in place even if inside he was boiling with fear and rage.

"Of course. But I can't promise anything. Only time and the evolution of her condition will tell us if we can hope or not." the physician replied while handing over other bottles of a syrup that was supposed to help Catherine feel better.

Richard plunged his steely gaze into the doctor's ones, to probe his sincerity, but he saw no deception in them. When he returned that evening, Anne told him that the little girl's condition had deteriorated a little more and that she had swallowed nothing, neither water nor food, as her throat was causing her horribly pain.

Richard immediately went to her side, only to find that his laboured breathing and coughing were making it impossible for her to fall asleep.

"Da...dad," she spluttered.

"Catherine, you need to eat," Richard ordered as he saw an untouched plate on the nightstand.

"Not...not hungry," the sleepy child replied.

"My informants also told me that you have been refusing to drink. You will not recover if you do not hydrate yourself properly and regain your strength by eating."

With that, Richard took one of the toasts that rested on the plate and brought it to the child's mouth.

"No, daddy, please," she whined.

Helplessly, Richard put it down, but when he brought a glass of water to her mouth, he remained unyielding until she finished it. He then placed a hand on her forehead to see that it was burning, even more than in the morning. Her nightgown and sheets were soaked with sweat, so he ordered the servants to prepare a bath and change the bedding.

Catherine's maid took care of her in the bathroom, putting various essential oils including peppermint in the bath water to try to relieve the child's muscular aches and milder symptoms.

When she took her back to her bed, Richard was still there, a pitcher of water at his side. He was determined to see Catherine hydrate herself properly and eat a little. This took a great deal of patience, a patience he didn't know he had. He finally managed to coax her by promising to read for her if she ate half her toast, finished the whole pitcher of water by the end of the day, and took her medication without complain.

Later that evening, when she interrupted his reading to complain that her head was killing her, Richard rubbed diluted peppermint oil on her forehead and told her to sleep. Unfortunately, the poor child got no rest that night, the cough keeping her awake all night, making her vomit, and making the pain in her chest unbearable.

By the end of the week, Catherine's condition had not worsened, but it had not improved either. She was paler than the snow that had delighted her so much a week before, and her wheezing did not bode well.

The doctor was still unable to say whether Catherine would make it or not and could only give her the proper medication and ordering that she be kept in bed, kept warm, and forced to drink plenty of fluids and eat a little every day.

"Would a trip to the seaside do her any good ?" Richard asked.

He remembered his mother being sent to the coast when he was a child to recover from a similar pneumonia. But his mother was much better-built than Catherine and had a strong will.

"If it were summer, yes, but travelling in this changeable weather is not advisable. You might get stuck in the middle of the English countryside in the snow. Besides, the journey might be too tiring for her," the doctor had replied, "it would be best to keep her nice and warm here."

Two weeks later, Catherine was still not feeling better, and Richard was a bundle of nerves. Anything could send him into a fiery rage, even The Beadle had experienced it several times. At the manor, none of the servants dared to upset him. They scattered like mice as soon as they heard him arrive, only to disappear before suffering his wrath. To add to his bad mood, the festivities for the end of the year were beginning to be in full swing throughout London.

Richard had always hated Christmas. This holiday was linked to too many bad memories. Only bad memories. Despite Catherine's presence, it had not occurred to him to celebrate this cursed holiday or to decorate the house. He might have done so if she had asked him to, but she hadn't had the chance since she had fallen ill before. And now she might not even survive Christmas.

"My Lord, you need some rest," Anna said authoritatively.

Turpin gave her a dark look that didn't disturb him in the least.

"You will be of no use to anyone if you fall ill too. Catherine needs you by her side, in good health. Go and get some sleep, My Lord."

Richard told her coldly to mind her own business and the old maid left, but after she had gone he sighed heavily and listened to her. She was right, if he continued like this it was not one Turpin but two who would need to be taken care of and he couldn't afford to falter when his daughter needed him most.

Catherine would ask for him whenever he got home from the Courthouse. For the first time in years, Richard made a point of coming home before eight o'clock, his daughter's official bedtime, although she only slept fitfully now, when her persistent cough offered her some respite.

He would read her a few pages every night, put a few drops of peppermint on her forehead and a few drops of eucalyptus on her throat in the hope of helping her breathe to go better. He would kiss her on the forehead, wishing her some rest before retiring to his own rooms, where he would doze off like a log every night. Every morning, he would wake up hoping that she would be feeling a little better, but so far his hopes had always been dashed away.

However, there had been a glimmer of hope one morning, two weeks before Christmas, when her cheeks were slightly flushed and she seemed more awake than she had been before. She had eaten, not that much but at least three meals and had drunk water and tea with lemon and honey throughout the day, much to the relief of the household and her father who thought this was the beginning of her recovery.

That evening, when Richard had gone to join her to read her a few pages of a new book he had specially bought for her, she had talked to him about the hated holiday, as he had dreaded.

"Dad, when are we going to decorate the manor?" she had asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't answered. Instead he had asked her if she usually celebrated Christmas with her mother. She had answered that she had and that she had received gifts every year even though she knew that it was her mother who put them under the tree and that it was not much. A comb, an old second-hand book, a dress that her mother had taken up for her. Nevertheless, on Christmas Day, Elena didn't work and spent the whole day with her daughter making gingerbread cookies and reading her stories and that was all it took to make Catherine happy.

Because that day Catherine had been a little more lively and because she had worried about whether Christmas would take place or not, to her father's great disappointment, the whole Turpin manor had thought that the following days would see the child's recovery.

Unfortunately, the next day, her fever was higher than ever and she was coughing so much that she had ended up coughing up blood. The doctor had been called immediately and his diagnosis was not good.

"Richard, I don't want to be a bad omen, but you have to prepare for the worst..."

The doctor didn't have time to add anything before Richard's voice thundered throughout the manor as he ordered him to leave the premises immediately, which the man did but not before entrusting a list of medicines and herbs that should relieve the little girl to Anne.

Richard, who was drowning himself into his work to forget that his daughter was dying, hardly spent any time at the manor anymore. It was now Anne who took care of reading her stories and making her take her medicine. Catherine hardly ate anymore, and she, who was already not very thick, was now nothing more than a pile of flesh and bones. All the employees of the manor prayed to see the little girl recover while she did not stop asking for a father who didn't have the courage to see her waste away.

Colder and harsher than ever, Richard's judgments terrified even his colleagues, but not one of them would dare to make the slightest remark to him. Even The Beadle trembled when his boss called him into his office for fear of incurring unjustified wrath.

"You're an idiot," Anne told him one evening when he came home almost past midnight.

Richard had frozen, his eyes flashing. Anyone else would have shrunk in fear before him, but not the old woman who had seen far more worst.

"It's very cold outside and fresh snow will probably fall in a few days, it's to be feared, but trust me, I will have no mercy in throwing you out if you speak to me like that one more time," he had hissed coldly.

"I have no doubt. You have no heart, my lord. Only a heartless man would let his child call him in vain day and night."

And with these words being said, she had left him on the threshold of the still open door. Indeed, day and night, Catherine cried, screamed, begged for him to come and join her, but he couldn't bear to see her like this. He was going to lose her, he knew it and he cursed himself for having allowed himself to let her cross the walls he had erected all around him and the barrier of ice around his heart that had protected him all these years from the sorrow of life.

"Sir ?" said the butler's voice.

Richard, who was in his parlour, raised his head to acknowledge his presence. The butler brought him something to eat and a brandy, his favourite. He placed the tray and the bottle of alcohol on Richard's desk, but as he was about to take his leave, he hesitated, biting his lip.

"Something askew ?" asked Richard arching an eyebrow.

Upstairs, Catherine tossed and turned, her fever having soaked her sheets once again. She had vomited several times after having uncontrollable coughing fits and her fever was making her delirious. She had called her mother several times and had even mistaken her governess for the late woman several times, begging her to relieve her of her ordeal.

"Sir... I believe you must know something," the butler finally said in a cautious voice.

"And what ?" Richard thundered.

"You should ask Anne about that night in March when your mother asked to meet your Elena," and with that, the butler left without asking for more.

Surprised, his mouth hanging open, Richard remained unresponsive. The butler couldn't know about his past with Catherine's mother, since he didn't work for him yet. What on earth had Anne told him about ?

"You asked for me ?" asked the old maid he had immediately summoned.

"I don't know if I'm mad with rage or just disappointed. A bit of both, I guess," he hissed, his voice cold and sharp as a blade.

"What do you mean, my lord ?" asked the old woman, confused.

"What right do you have to talk about my private life with the employees ? You're not paid to spread gossip !"

Anne immediately understood what he was referring to.

"No one else knows except your butler. I told him because..."

She fell silent, hesitant, but Richard's look made her understand that she had no choice but to tell him the truth.

"He and I are having an affair. I know he can be trusted, and I confided to him because my heart ached for you, my lord, and for little Catherine," she said in one breath.

Richard, stunned by the news, might have been amused about the new of his head maid and his butler having an affair if his daughter were not struggling and losing the fight for her life upstairs.

"And what did he mean about that March night?"

"That night, my lord, I confess, I eavesdropped at the door..."

Richard was not ready to hear the maid's confidences. Because they called to question everything he had believed until now.

That March night, Richard's mother had had Elena brought by force to the manor where she lived with her husband near Windsor. There, she had threatened her on the purpose to force her to leave Richard. She, a girl of nothing, from a family of nothing, without a name, without a title, without money. Never could the Turpin name have been more sullied than with this whore who had given herself to their son without even being married. But the young woman, unyielding, had refused to accede to her mother's request. Elena had resisted, even when she had been threatened to be brought to Turpin's father, a violent man who would beat her until she listened to reason, or who would have killed her.

Seeing that nothing could convince Elena to give up Richard, her mother, perfidious, vile creature, had adopted another tactic. It was not Elena she was going to attack but her own son. She would have him disinherited, something she would have had no trouble to convince his father to do, she would have him disowned and he would lose everything. His title, his prestige, his job at the Court of London, his brand new wealth and his brand new manor whose he was so proud. If Elena refused to leave Richard, then she would destroy her son. And Elena, madly in love with Richard, had agreed to sacrifice her own happiness for the man she loved more than anything in the world. More than her own life.

"You know your parents would have done it without a regret," Anne said at the end of her story.

Oh yes, he knew it. His parents, those cold and distant beings who only lived for appearances would have had no regrets in throwing their one and only heir in poverty, only because he didn't meet the standard of his rank.

"Did she know ? About the child ?" Richard asked, his voice betraying his dismay.

"I do not know, my lord. No pregnancy was mentioned that night."

"Thank you Anne."

Without a glance at the maid, Richard, his gait stiff, left his property without even bothering to put on a coat as the wind whistled all its rage outside, making the windows of the manor shake.

Air, he needed air. Elena. His Elena. The one he had cursed every night since she had left him without a word, disappearing like a shadow in the night, his Elena had acted out of pure love for him, to protect him. And when he had the chance to help her, to bring her back on the right path, to give her a roof over her head and a decent life, that night when he had seen her in that brothel, he had preferred to look the other way and leave her for what he thought she was then : a common whore who deserved nothing better than the life of a slut she was leading.

Richard fell to his knees on the steps of St Paul's Cathedral.

"Oh, Elena ! What have I done !"

For the first time since he was eight, the age at which, after having been beaten to a pulp by his father for having stolen a cupcake from the kitchen, he had sworn he would never cry again, Richard began to sob.

His Elena had died because of her family. Because of him. And now his daughter was going to die. Turpin, that name was cursed ! It was cursed ! Everything that was beautiful and brought him a little joy and love was destined to wither and die at his side.

"Sir, are you all right ?"

Richard jumped. In front of him stood a priest.

"I... I..." he stammered.

It was the first time Richard was speechless. The man of God invited him to go inside the cathedral to get out of the rain.

"Do you want to talk ?" he offered.

"No. Not with you," Richard replied coldly.

"With him then ?" the priest offered, pointing to the cross of Christ.

He gently squeezed Richard's shoulder before leaving him alone with himself and his thoughts. Richard didn't know if he was a believer or not. He had been raised as an Anglican, but his profession had long since led him to believe that he himself was a god, with the power of life and death over those brought before him in the Courthouse.

No, Richard did not believe in any god. If there was a god, he would not let gentle women like Elena end up selling their bodies and dying in poverty. He would not let children be beaten for things they did not do, he would not let women be raped in the dark streets of London. He would not take his daughter from him. But just in case he was wrong and a higher power was there, ready to listen, he prayed for Catherine. Just in case.

He returned to the manor several hours later, soaking wet, and Anne immediately ordered a bath for their master while she brought him a hot drink and wrapped him in a thick bath towel.

"Anne, ask the servant to have the manor decorated," Richard asked, his voice less steady than usual;

"My lord?"

"Catherine asked me if the manor would be decorated for Christmas. It will be. Ask the servant to get to work on it tomorrow," he ordered before heading to the bathroom.

"Yes, my lord," the servant replied, amazed.

Never since she had worked for him had she seen the manor decorated for the holidays. Yet, the next evening, when Richard had returned from the Courthouse, the entire manor was breathing the festive spirit.

He had gone to his daughter's bedside, a plate of gingerbread cookies and a cup of warm milk in his hands. Too happy to see her father care about her, she had made the effort to eat a little and drink the whole cup, just to please Richard.

"You must try to sleep now," Richard told her, placing a kiss on her forehead.

He shivered as the fever that had been gone for the last two days and had now returned. During the night, a servant came to wake him to tell him that Catherine was vomiting blood and was barely breathing. The doctor had come as quickly as he could, but there was little more he could do.

"If she makes it through the night, then there's a chance she'll live," he had told Richard before leaving.

That night, Richard had returned to St. Paul's Cathedral. It was the day before Christmas Eve. Two days before that cursed day he hated more than anything in the world. His daughter, the apple of his eyes, could not die on the day she loved so much. She would not be one more bad memory to bear during this cursed holiday.

He came home late that night and went straight to her side to watch over her. Richard must have fallen asleep because the last thing he remembered was covering Catherine with an extra blanket after she complained about being cold, and now something was shaking him. He groaned in displeasure, cracking his eyes open to see what was disturbing his sleep.

"Catherine ?"

The little girl's eyes were wide open and the gray veil that had accompanied them for the last few weeks had faded. Beautiful colour had returned to her face and her fever had definitely broken.

"I'm hungry, dad," the little girl said hoarsely, her throat still scratchy from her days of coughing nonstop.

Richard laughed heartily, the joy invading him almost too much to bear. Food was immediately brought in and he watched her eat with gusto to his delight. The doctor had come once more, only to state that the worst was behind them.

"She must not go out. She must stay warm, but she can leave her bed. But no strenuous activities. And she must continue to take her medication until I say she can stop," he had ordered.

That afternoon, wrapped in a thick dressing gown and a woolen blanket, Richard had carried her around the manor to show her the decorations, Hector trotting happily beside them. The little dog had not left his little mistress's room during her bed rest and he seemed as happy as the rest of the household to see her recover.

Catherine's eyes lit up when she saw the many gifts waiting for her under the tree. She had never had so many presents just for her.

"But you can't open them until tomorrow," Richard reminded her kindly.

"Thanks, dad," she said, pressing her head against his neck.

Richard laughed, telling her to wait and see what the packages contained before thanking him. After all, she might be disappointed.

"No, I'll like them. I've never had anything new before."

Once again, Richard's heart sank at the child's words. He held her a little tighter, then carried her back to her bed. Early in the evening, she was again allowed to get up and accompany him to the parlour, where he made her comfortable on a sofa in front of the fire. He read her a Christmas Carol until she fell asleep.

When he had finished the book, he carefully lifted the frail, undersized body and carried his daughter back to her bed. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, making sure she was warm, Hector at the foot of the bed was watching over her. The fire crackled in the fireplace and fresh water had been brought along with more gingerbread cookies.

Richard stood for a moment watching his daughter sleep when the sound of bells startled him. He walked over to the window to watch London spread out before him, the moon reflected in the Thames, the church bells announcing Christmas. The bells of Christmas, which brought him good news with the unexpected recovery of his only child.

"I will take good care of her Elena," Turpin whispered into the night, "I have failed to be the husband you needed, but I will be the father Catherine needs. I will take good care of our daughter."

With that he turned, walked briskly to Catherine's bed and kissed her forehead. He blew out the many candles, leaving only one lit, and left the room, not without one last glance at the child's sleeping form.

"Merry Christmas, daughter of mine."

[iloveacronix]

Sighhh. Dear mutuals. Please stop sending me smut fanfictions, ESPECIALLY the ILLUSTRATED ONES, when you know damn well I'm less than 18, know my SPECIFIC age, and KNOW I do not feel comfortable with smut.

I am VERY uncomfortable when you do this and you, as someone older than me, should know better. I do NOT care if you like the ship, I do NOT care if you think its good, I DONT WANT TO FUCKING READ IT, and I DONT WANT YOU SENDING ME LINKS TO THAT SHIT. I AM NOT INTO IT, BUT SOMETIMES IM CURIOUS AND IT DISGUSTS ME. LIKE COULD YOU NOT?? I do not mind if you mention the word it's not specific at ALL, but if you are going to fully talk about it DETAILED OUT shut up. I don't want to hear it. Don't want to read it. And I do not want to see it. Also don't have the crappy mindset where you think that suddenly because we're mutuals it means we're bestie best friends and you feel privileged to send me inappropriate shit, because that's not how it works. None of you, AND I MEAN NONE OF YOU, are "PriViLEgEd" to send me smut FICS or links, and it will never happen because im not looking forward to reading it. Don't use that excuse again. You know who you are.

So please. Stop. This is the third time. I don't care if you're a friend, if you send me smut FICS or links WITHOUT WARNING, I'm blocking you. I blocked two people already for it, I can do it many more times. Your bullshit only makes me feel more fucking tired and reluctant to make more online friends. So stop. When I say I'm a kid(not that young but still) on my bio, I'm serious. It doesn't matter if it's "just a written story and it's not a big deal," it is for me because it just shows me how much of a freak you are to have the audacity to show it to a minor THAT HAS ALREADY "SAID I DO NOT WANT TO READ SMUT."

Thank you. Good day.

[starheirxero]

Taps cheek. Must confess I feel like some people haven't been approaching the fandom the way I have, and I am sorely realizing this now.

Y'all, the VAs here see you. If you are publically posting hate about a character–especially in the main tags or in their inbox–there is a very real chance that the person who plays that character will see you. They are not disconnected entities that hover above everything in their own fandom, they engage in it. They have strong feelings about their own characters too, they made them. And everyone being excessively foul about them and their character is not the kinda takeaway they wanna see!!

So. Perhaps. It would be more constructive for people to either learn to be nicer or to just shut up if I'm being quite honest.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Kyoshist did a new video (amazing as always) *W* and it's "which of the 4 love interests (Kavik, Rangi, Katara, Asami) would win in a battle (setting: Lower Ring Ba Sing Se). "

I went ham in the comment section (my own comment I wasn't fighting people, made a thread, god the limited character thing sucks) about why Rangi would win.....but I kinda wanna do it here too (similar style as Hei-Ran vs Atuat).

"Silly, the Rangi glaze is insane" Nooooo she just......the set up is just unfair... FOR THEM! She can hard counter everyone there (based on what we know of her skillset, W/Ls and the other characters stuff). TT0TT Put Rangi against Toph or even Bolin she's either struggling at best or outright losing those. Or even Azula (ironic cause Azula didn't beat Katara, but I really do think Rangi can beat Katara, but Rangi could lose to Azula), or even Hei-Ran in her prime.

Tldr; Rangi can lose, just not to anyone on that list. Certain (kinda unfair, wild, and/or not specified) conditions have to be met for her to lose that. TT0TT

[body-to-flame]

I want to watch the sun sink behind the heavens with you. Anything. I just want anything from you.

[dangaer]

have to admit it following that last post, if we're shipping im 9/10 times rereading the media and looking at certain parts through a ship tinted glass set. i put it on the dash sometimes rather than dms because i'm extremely nervous that i'm going to come off as too much but, you know, i'm working on that.

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care

[tovaicas]

some of the threads probably could've been handled better but as a whole I love alphinaud's HW character arc so much

[original-cat-showdown]

ROUND 2 MATCH-UPS EVERYBODY

Tabby (@cure-icy-writes) vs Elle Chihiro (@cure-icy-writes)

Ni'iri (@sillysorcerer) vs Spirit (@spirits-of-kin)

Gull (@featherfrond) vs Paxel (@cat-skull)

Kitty Heels (@esmaelj) vs Ginger (@esmaelj)

Jade (@dragontoonss) vs Caitrionia (@kjmellow)

Vivi (@rainewintersnow) vs Apotheosis (@horizontalnobelcat)

Nico (@crownne-prince) vs Narciso (@crownne-prince)

Briarfang (@plaguedbutch) vs Leafcloud (@plaguedbutch)

Bobsyfella (@thunderwhenhepurrs) vs Jinna (@teknoctarkamacska)

Tumbledown (@sugarsprinkles) vs Caro (@sugarsprinkles)

Frozen Teeth (@element-kitten-klaws) vs Pawtree Purrety (@kdm13)

Mason Spectrespeaker (@2bu) vs Kat (@laceghost / @laceghost-art)

Mina (@spacedragonstar) vs Lara and Rio Coddsworth (@acromafireair)

Cherry Lipstick (@hyephyep) vs Lane (@hyephyep)

Round 1 brackets

Round 1 results

Polls will run for a week, and I should manage to set them up in a few days!

[adreamfromnevermore]

AU Where the Justice League forms as usual except for one slight difference where Bruce just so happens to have been the one superheroing for the longest. (Excluding Diana, who got up to it in World War 1 and then mostly didn't while she learned about Man's World)

Bruce helps form the Justice League, ignoring all of the comments as they come to the sudden realization that Gotham's baby cryptid story is actually a man in a very intimidating armored suit who can and will break your arm if you cause problems for him. They are unaware that this is not the first team he's led, and actually he's used to teams full of mostly teenagers who also happen to be his children. This should be easier, this team is primarily adults.

He realizes rapidly that he doesn't understand these people.

His kids take bonding activities to mean learning a dozen different ways to break someones leg. That doesn't fly with these people. And that is most of Bruce's ideas, hell when he was a kid Alfred took every opportunity to get him out of his room and mostly that was with the agreement that Alfred would teach him how to defend himself. He's come by it honestly.

This team is not easier. They have more drama than when his house was actually full of kids. It's insane. He doesn't know what to do with it, usually he just sent the kids to their rooms or grounded them from patrol. That doesn't work here.

He comes to a strange crossroads. That falls apart when he forgets who he's working with and snaps at Hal with a full room of heroes that the next person to throw a punch or an insult without a reason too will be sparring with him.

A long standing rule in the batcave that worked two fold to prevent infighting between the kids and too ensure that they were well and truly trained.

It works wonders. No one says a word out of line for the rest of the debrief. Bruce becomes the unofficial mediator of the league over Clark because anytime he walked in on a fight it suddenly became 10 times more civil out of sheer terror of what he'd do to them in a sparring match.

Eventually they actually meet his kids. Well, one kid.

Half way through a mission (one of the rare ones in Gotham) the Bat comes to a complete stop at the edge of an alley. Every single league member on the team comes to a stop behind him. Slowly from the shadows of the alley a man in a red helmet stalks out to greet them.

"You don't call, you don't write"

"Red Hood."

"Don't Red Hood me! We've been worried sick!"

"I was at the cave last night."

"You didn't answer my texts B. You always answer my texts."

Somehow it ends with big and scary following them through the rest of the mission with a running commentary of how much Bats has let him down in his failure to respond in a timely manner to a text send less than an hour before he ran into them in the alley. It only ends when Red Robin shows up.

And even then it only ends because Hood can't keep himself from throwing a punch and Bruce has to snap at him that if he throws another one they're sparring when they get home.

And by god is Jason giving up the chance to punch his brothers.

[guubiiz]

trein...

[kurominiiiz]

The amount of incest, noncon, and pedophilic jjk smut content is getting out of hand.

"Just scroll if you don't like it!" - this doesn't negate the fact they're posting disgusting scenarios. They're targeting an audience of people who should seek therapy. That kind of shit is not okay.

It's like saying "scroll part a zoophile account on Twitter if u don't like it." See how stupid it sounds?

This Fandom is slowly becoming one i regret being in because of just how disgusting people are becoming. Come on guys, do better.

It's okay to have kinks and fetishes, but that doesn't mean they're okay. It's not okay to sexualize minors, it's not okay to sexualizw little space, it's not okay to sexualize r//pe! I get dubcon, but noncon? That's literally just nonconsensual sex.

Anyways. Rant over. Do better, people.

---

Edit: I have MUCH more to say on this now that I've read some other inputs:

The problem isn't "block and move on" or "ur arguing for fiction..." it's the fact people are exposing minors and already mentally ill people to VERY REAL and DISGUSTING scenarios. It doesn't matter that they're fictional, what they're writing about is a real issue. Blocking tags doesn't work most of the time, so stop saying to shut up and just use that feature.

Another thing is that people are making these writings so normal that they are making others think it's okay. When I was younger, I had unsupervised internet access and was exposed to smut like this. It messed me up and got me institutionalized because I didn't know it wasn't okay to talk about. Minors nowadays are also very unsupervised and will come across your stuff. I'm worried for the next generation.

Last thing, the excuse "they're just fiction" is flawed because you're ignoring the PSA! You wouldn't say this if it was about something else, right? If someone was saying: "I love lolicon!" You wouldn't block and move on. You would call their asses out and comment bomb them. It's the same concept, except on a broader spectrum. You're enabling the behavior of these vile creatures that need serious help. You're not doing anyone any good by saying "this is so unnecessary" or "they're fictional..."

(Update: read this post about my asks if you plan on sending a hate message or threat lol)