#Your family is rich. They do not need your pity or your support or your self-immolation

[averruncusho]

you once told me about your helper, who was forced by her parents to abandon her lover to marry a man she didn’t know. Until now, I still don’t know why anyone would tolerate that. Why would you let your family ruin your happiness forever? It seems so stupid to me; why would you not choose freedom? I guess you always knew, and I guess I’ll never know

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - I

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, emotional manipulation, guns, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

NOTE: So this is my very first fic on tumblr!. i wanted the first to be a one shot but, oh well. Do feel free to send me your thoughts!. Reblogs are really appreciated, this is tumblr after all. I hope you enjoy!.

DIVIDERS: @firefly-graphics 

*

You’ve always loved Bucky, since the very beginning and you’ve always known it, he was your best friend after all. It was your responsibility to love him, to protect him, and to take care of him— you’ve always tried your best.

Whenever Steve would take it upon himself to start unnecessary fights with the older boys, Bucky would step in to support him, to save him and both idiots would end up getting their ass’s whooped. You were the smarter one you knew how to pick and choose your fights, you would run to find the nearest teacher and complain about the senior boys and they would take care of the rest.

So you always knew that, when he needed you; you’d be there for him. But you never knew if he felt the same way, or if he even liked you at all, Steve always did seem to be his first priority.

You were badly jealous of the boy, but you never wished ill on him, especially because of how frail he was and how often he’d fall sick. You supposed everyone prioritized him…

Both your father and Steve’s worked for Bucky’s dad. Considering how dangerous it is and how enemies would stoop so low as to hurt the children, Steve’s mother’s paranoia seemed valid.

But you were too young to realize all of that; after all, there’s only so much an 8-year-old can understand. You seemed quite content with your life; little did you know that everything would change soon enough. 

You remember that day very clearly, even now, long after the incident. You’d had a big fight with Bucky, about him leaving you to see Steve because he was sick again! In his defense, he did ask you to come, and you did want to visit Steve. But Sarah was not your biggest fan; she simply tolerated you and was more often than not, not very welcoming of your family. You remember your mother saying something about them being more rich due to old money.

Although you supposed that it was mostly, due to the fact that while other kids were out playing; her son was more than often stuck in bed.

As you opened the door and entered your house, you hadn’t noticed the stillness in the air. The house was very quiet, but then again, it always was. Your dad was out for work, your mom; busy with the housework, you were quiet the small family.

Just as you enter the kitchen, you’re alarmed as somebody holds you and covers your mouth, and just as you are ready to scream; as much as your trembling voice will allow you to, you stop. Mortified to see your wailing mother screaming and crying to let you go, her hand’s tied; as 3 men stand around her.

You had never seen her so scared before; seeing tears in her face scared you even more; she had always been the brave one, the one you run to, whenever you had a nightmare.

Right next to her was your dad, his forehead bleeding and his lips split. The man questioning him seems to have stopped in your presence; he stared at you and his face seemed to hold a mixture of pity and guilt.

He continues to question your father. It’s all too much; Your mother’s cry, your father’s helplessness, and the tight grip of the man holding you—your mind starts to get hazy.

All of a sudden, the front door crashes open, a ear-bleeding, loud bang resonates through the air, and the person holding you falls on to the floor. By now, a lot of men are in your kitchen, their guns pointing to each other.

You hear none of their conversations; you try your best not to look at the dead man lying beside you; you get a glimpse of the blood splattered on the wall, terrified; you close your eyes for a second and look straight ahead, only to find the man questioning your dad on the floor, his head underneath the sole of Bucky’s dad’s feet.

Somebody helps your mum up, and she runs to your side; she holds you close to her as they escort the two of you outside into a black limousine. Just as you climb up, you hear another gunshot; you no longer wish to know who was shot.

Time seems to be moving in a different pace and before you know it, you’re at the Barnes household. Your parents seem to be discussing something but you couldn’t pay any attention to it.

All you could feel was the ringing sensation in your ear.

Bucky entered the mansion just around that time, his initial reaction to seeing you at his place was surprise; a small smirk forms on his face, but it slowly turns into confusion as he looks around.

He slowly comes up to you, takes your hand in his, and leads you to his room. As you sat on his bed, he prepped his pillows up to make you more comfortable and sat down next to you.

You assumed that he would ask you what was wrong or what happened. Your disheveled state would have made the distress obvious. But he never did; he just sat next to you, staring at you, yet you felt more comfortable sharing this silence, than you did the whole day.

Eventually he left and came back after some time with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to you as he sat down next to you, even closer this time; and hugged you .

He’d been out for much longer than what would be required to get a glass of water.

So you assumed that he must have pestered around and made his mother spill everything. Mrs. Barnes was a sensitive women and Bucky always had his way with people.

He hugged you a little tighter as he said “It’s OK; you’re safe now. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, ever.”

And in that moment, you realized that he loved you back as well.

~

[anpanman95]

God DO I have things to say about this one here…

CONTROVERSIAL REVIEW AHEAD

Last Twilight: why Day’s character is a major RED FLAG 🚩🚩🚩

DISCLAIMER: I do not have anything against him as an actor. He’s a beautiful sweet talented cutie pie that is doing such an amazing job it causes me to hate the motherfluffing guts of this character.

To make this easier I’ve broken down this to five points.

Day’s personality sucks: first of all, he is a rich, spoiled child (I hope all of us agree on this one) who’s clearly full of himself, and only cares about himself. This is demonstrated in several ways, but the most blatant one is in how he believes that his tragedy is the worst possible scenario anyone could be in, and fails to have a single ounce of empathy for anyone around him unless, of course, it has to do something with him. Yes. What happened to him was horrific, and traumatizing, but he is not the only human being in the world who has problems. Which brings me to my next point.

Having a disability does not give you the right to be an asshole. “Oh but every person deals with their own stuff differently” Honey, no. The whole point is that having a disability does not make you any less than any other human being. Question: Doesn’t Day want for people to stop feeling pity for him? to not treat him differently?. Well guess what darling: that implies you also still have to be and function like a decent person. Yes, again, I’m very sorry about what he has to go through, which is a horrible and unexpected experience, and I could never imagine what that’s like, but literally no one in his life wished this upon him. He acts as if everyone around him is to be blamed for what happened.

Spoiled part 2: He has a roof over his head. A fancy one might I add. He lives comfortably. He has healthy, unlimited food, done by a professional chef, might I add AGAIN, and he does not appreciate his family and what they do for him, not even once. Does he not understand that his life could be much, much worse? I’m not saying he can’t be angry or depressed or deal with his trauma however he needs to be able to heal, but there’s a difference that he doesn’t seem to understand: being angry at a situation that is out of anyone’s control, and being angry or directing that anger to people who just want to help. Which brings me to my last two points:

Day’s crappy behavior towards his family: Lets start with the mother. She is, of course somewhat at fault for what Day has to go through. But only because she is being unreasonably overprotective, something that could have been solved anyway without Day being an absolute prick about it. (Also pick one of your children to give all your love and attention to and abandon the other? what is wrong with you). Now to his brother Night. Oh God. I don’t think you understand how angry I was when Day said “I forgive you for everything”. Bitch what the f? Forgive Night? for treating him like absolute garbage, as if he had never been your own brother? Like he planned the whole fiasco? He gets mad after the accident because his brother TRIES TO CHANGE for the BETTER. And accuses him from TRYING TO STEAL THE GOOD SON TITLE FROM HIM??! Be for real bitch. This circles back to point one: He only cares about himself. Night has been traumatized almost as much as Day because of the accident. It is obvious he blames himself and probably will never forgive himself fully for what happened. On top of that he gets an awful mother and brother? Nah. Count me out. I would have resigned from that family and go live with beautiful sweet Porjai to a small village and never be contacted by those people again.

Mhok: Oh dear. Oh dear. He is literally the greenest of green flags out there. Sure. He’s a little volatile. Sure, he has done violent things. But he would have NEVER hurt Day or any of their friends/family. My boy was just trying to do his job, cause, mind you, HE HAS NO MONEY OR FAMILY TO SUPPORT HIM LIKE YOU DO, DAY. The money and family you disrespect every single day. And what the f with telling him what to do with his life? Who the f do you think you are? Mr. Righteous? Mr. Perfect? More like Mr. Red Flag 101. Day basically broke Mhok’s heart because Mhok didn’t want to be away from him. So, first of all, I don’t believe for a second Mhok’s intentions were out of pity. Maybe they came from a place of WORRY and a little bit out of infatuation because he liked him so much and didn’t want to be away from him. But never pity. EVEN SO. IF Mhok felt “pity” for Day, the correct thing to do, as two fluffing functioning adults, is to TALK. Why did you have to go and tell him all this horrible things just so he’d leave? Why not tell him you’re proud of him, and ENCOURAGE HIM to take the job, ENSURE that it’ll work out between you? But nooooo, Mr. Red Flag had to go and break his heart cause he lacks basic decency and human empathy, only for Mhok, bless his heart, to come back after three years AND FOR SOME REASON, still manage to be in love with this awful person. And he tells him no? Break his heart all over again only for Mhok to have enough emotional intelligence for the both of them to actually come back after YOU GAVE UP ON SEARCHING FOR HIM AT THE AIRPORT LIKE A WEAK MEDIOCRE BI— ugh. If I were Mhok I’d gone and kicked his sorry ass and married a handsome Hawaiian.

Okay.

Also Day only coming to his senses after his mother tells him THE MOST OBVIOUS THING THERE IS.

“Oh Mother what was that? Loving means taking risks? It’s all about trust? and communication? Oh my, that would have never crossed my mind because I am such an idiot. Thank you mom I’ll go look for the love of my life now because you told me so”

like seriously what is up with these boys and their mommy issues? I swear the exact same thing happened in Hidden Agenda. Bro.

I love P’Aof, and his work. Loved Bad Buddy, loved Moonlight Chicken. I had super high expectations of this and, overall, the show is good. But I simply did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would, and it’s all because I couldn’t sympathize with one of the main characters.

In conclusion:

Fluff you Day, you do not deserve Mhok. sorry p’Aof I love you and will continue to support you until the very end.

oof. I needed to rant this out. don’t yell at me please I cry easily.

peace out!

[kyred]

I'd like to hear more about your dnd characters, I love their designs

Aight, first up the main 2! Shriek, my Kenku Death Cleric! He wields a cursed longsword that seals away the souls of those killed by it and gains power from that. On his other arm is a tower shield that's nifty. He wears adamantine armour and is VERY tanky as a result.

His entire deal is he was from a kenku village in the woods distant from most major civilizations/cities, so his hometown has a kenku made sign language! He was banished after stumbling upon a dark secret within the church, sold off into slavery, his home being burned down as he was carted away, and the head priest smiled towards him cruelly. He was branded and discarded when he lost his use, thrown off a cliff and left for death. Clinging to life, somehow, he was saved by a small group of travelling clerics, awaking in their church, bandaged and healed up. His wounds healed overtime, save for the branding which was done in the middle of his back.

After that, he went on a journey of vengeance, planning to burn down his former town. Which usually lead to him getting lost and turned around as he didn't know much of where it was since he never left it before so.

Eventually he ends up going to court, alongside a few others for random and petty crimes, and talked not only his own, but everyone else out of going to jail.

Over the year he's known them all, he's gone from edgy and murderous to a dumbass who casts ray of sickness when he can. Oh also he went from skin and bones to a borb so there's that.

Curtis!

Angry, grump raccoon, former orc(pig orc cause we love them more) cursed into racc. Now he's on a quest to undo it all! Time paladin with the hopes he can rewind himself if he gets strong enough.

But wait, there's more!!!

Esper, Kobold Bard, Former pet looking for his family.

So, his egg was bough by a rich family as a gift for their kid, and was raised in a decent situation. Him and the kid are buds, despite the. Power balance of master and pet. Kid grew up and went "hey, do you want to be free? find your clutch, even?" and esper went "yeah sounds neat!" so yeah. Never really got to play him past a few sessions..

Grizz, Ursine Artificer, Trying to find a way home.

A wanderer who found himself in a world not quite like his own, left with questions on how or rather IF he can even get home. Currently making a device to blast a hole into the fabric of reality to see if that works or not, regardless of the cost.

Silver, Tabaxi Barbarian!

Not much with him, he was kinda made for a dungeon crawl but he was hot so I want to give him a proper background besides idiot who left town to go on adventures.

Bahmet, Dragonborn Rogue, went on an adventure as a young adult and realized OOPS IT ISN'T FUN.

In the campaign he was in (like most of these, the DM either abandoned them part way or they died/off screened left), he became a highway bandit after years of hardships from trying to be an adventurer. He was in a terrible state when he tried to mug a sea captain but was later taken in, be it out of pity or genuine interest he doesn't know. This happened to him like a decade after he left his cozy village.

Bahmet had a loving family who was supportive of him going off on adventures and he just ended up sucking at it really bad!!! The captain taught him how to NOT suck and, another decade later became the ship's boatswain. He now writes letters to his parents and several siblings about how his adventures are going and how he misses them...

THERE, the lore on almost every DnD character I've had. The other 2 I've played were never fleshed out so they're just, a half orc, and dragonborn ranger. Kinda wish I had but, the games they were in were dropped by the DM pretty fast, alas. I had a tabaxi sorcelock prepped incase of emergency but never needed to pop him out.

I REALLY love making new characters, and sometimes even end up making them based on songs. Shriek, for example, is based upon the mind electric! He was a stable, happy lad until he was subjected to abuse after being delivered and carried away.

Grizz is, tbh, based on Mr. Grizz in a lot of ways.

Curtis honestly came to me by accident cause I wanted to play a furry in a campaign but didn't want to be weird even if it was with other furries. He was originally a HUMAN turned tanuki!

Esper and Bahmet were both just, I wanted to be a funny lizard man planning classes that do NOT compliment them AT ALL.

And Silver was just made over a week when Shriek died in a previous campaign (from the same DM who had a tendency to drop campaigns partway through...)

Not sure if I went on for a little too long but, yeah! That's all my boys that really matter tbh. Love em all pretty equally and hope to give them all a chance in the spotlight someday.

[nananarc]

Gonna disclose my income as a freelance artist because I feel like it might give some perspective. And mostly bc I'm feeling a bit burnout and I want pity points ok? Lol.

Context 1: For sake of simplicity, all figures are net income (minused all fees, charges, insurance, benefits, etc)

Context 2: I live in a big city in Việt Nam and the cost of living is relatively low. A salary of 1000$/month is considered really good for someone living alone with one pet, no family or children, no debt or other liabilities. Entry level jobs usually start at around 200-300$/month.

.

Let's start in 2021 because that's when it can be considered when I started doing art professionally.

In 2021 and 2022, I was juggling between art school, a part-time online side gig, building social media for my art, and of course try to get commissions. But coms were few and far between, mainly because I didn't have an online present before and I only hang in relatively small fandoms. So all I earn through side gig and art were only some change, in total avarage to about 40$/ month. Some months made up for no income months.

In 2023, things starts to be a bit better as I get more confident in my skill, but coms are still few and far between and months with no income is still common. Side gig was few and far between too and pay less. Overall I'd say it goes up to about 80$/month.

This year 2024, art school is done, I can finally do art full time. But I was severely burnout because all the accumulated stress since waaaaay before catch up with me and i couldn't cope anymore. I have to spend a lot of time resting instead. Fortunately, I received a decent amount of coms each month, and the new patreon surprisingly got a few supporters (I fully realistically expected it to sit at 0 for at least a year). Overall, I have an 8 hours 4 days work week: 4 hours a day on com and managing social media and other stuff that actually makes money; 4 hours a day on my own projects and personal indulgence that doesn't directly make money. As of now, my income is about 180$/month.

.

You are probably wondering how the fuck do one live like this in this economy.

It's because my family is middle class and can afford a freeloader like me in their house, receive their pocket money and tuition fee. I'm privileged.

But of course my family isn't rich and if just one catastrophic event happens to us, we'd be in bad shit. I'm constantly in anxiety of money, work, and the future. It doesn't help that I'm late 20s and many people around keep reminding of how I'm not making money yet still leeching off parents. It doesn't help that, for years all i hear about art is it will just lead to failure and no money.

.

But still, I am thankful of my family for letting me stay here. And all my friends and supporters for giving me money oc lol, but more importantly, believing in me more than I ever do in myself. I read all of your little tags, your keysmash and compliments, and I keep them all dear to my heart, and I went back to them everytime I need motivation. I can't see where my future as an artist will be, but I cling to your support and love as the will to keep going. Thank you all so, so fucking much. I'd have been literally dead in a ditch somewhere without you guys.

Anyway, idk, I've always been adamant about wage transparency (especially in a corporate setting) but I rarely see this in freelance artists. except to flex, to promote the hustle culture, or to sell some courses they made. Most of us don't want/can't subscribe to the grind and have nothing to flex either. All we have is this shit economy. I'd wish we could have been more open about this and many of us wouldn't have to feel so lonely and despair all the time.

[scalamore]

I guess I’m just really curious about the first TL Rupert. So in the manwha (I haven’t fully read the novel, only so much I could translate to understand), every time Lari remembers her first life, she always says that Rupert never spoke to her and barely made eye contact even during her trial. He also wasn’t fully in front of her when she was sent to the guillotine, and I guess through out of body says he doesn’t even look happy about her dying.

So I guess my question is: why did Rupert prolong her death so much? Why did he just leave her? In prison for months after he killed her whole family (no one knew her origins except a select few that are already dead), did he feel bad, or maybe he saw her as pitiful because she was just an innocent victim in the situation, or maybe I’m just thinking too much into it?

OOh i love discussing TL1 Rupert. Because we don't have much information about him at all, and Rupert and Lari's POV are just so contradictory. What I mean is Lari initially thought he was a psycho tyrant murderer, but then later thinks he's just a misunderstood guy she scapegoated, while we find out in S4 of the manhwa, that Rupert totally think it's 100% possible for him to be a psycho tyrant murderer :'D Short answer: I agree with all your thoughts! ^^ Long answer: Anyways yes, in TL1 Rupert and Lari didn't know each other at all, were in completely different social circles, and only exchanged like 2 sentences of formal greetings at her debutante. The main idea being they didn't know each other at all, and whatever opinion Lari had of him was her own conclusions about his character (that ironically, turned out to be right on the dot).

What I found interesting, was how she described him during the trial: He was sitting/standing a bit aways, observing her with a stern expression. He didn't seem happy - rather, indifferent. He didn't seemed at all pleased that she was being condemned. He also had an unusual "crooked grin" when they made eye contact, but the interesting part is she describes his "gentle green eyes that didn't match his violent personality"

This manhwa panel when they cross paths again at some point, also shows his overwhelming indifference, when she begs and screams at him yet he continues walking past her:

Here, on the day of her execution Lari imagines after her death - she imagines him being pleased, sneering and laughing at her. Yet the manhwa shows his expression as something more akin to that crooked grin from the trial - as if he felt pity for her and was laughing a "what a poor thing" laugh rather than a "hahaha serves you right" laugh. Hmmm...

Based on these clues from Lari's POV from TL1, and knowing Rupert's current personality (which has been established he's the same person but making different choices), it paints a picture that he's still the same indifferent person as ever, who doesn't care about those not involved in his circle/the people he trusts. He's the type to strike first before he gets hurt, and this is the same: he knew about Lari's origins, and got rid of her before she could become an obstacle. This is further supported by the upcoming Ch 118 when S4 is released: the novel version gives us Rupert's POV on what he thought of when he read Lari's diary detailing him as a psycho tyrant murderer. His response is pretty much "yeah, I can see myself doing that". Her descriptions of him brutally murdering the Empress, Arnulf and Grand Duke? Yup, he agrees he would do that. Executing House Belois for not only treason, but for hiding Akan's princess? Even if she didn't have any drop of actual royal blood, he would get rid of them all? Yup.

Because that was TL2 Rupert's original plan as well.

Recall manhwa chapter 45: Rupert had a hit-list of those around his age he needed to be wary of, and to get rid of some day if they continue to be a threat. He deemed Riche as not important, but Lari and Lehan were particularly troublesome. It's mentioned quite a few times, and finally directly in the next season, that Rupert believes he would have surely been such a murderous tyrant in TL2 if he had not met Lari. He could not refute the fact that "TL1 Rupert" wasn't him, because they shared the same methods/plans/thought process, and the only difference is because he knew Lari and was influenced by her in this timeline.

SO, going back to your question anon:

After RupeLali reunite, Rupert gives us a bit more of his POV regarding TL1: He admits that yes, he knows his own cruelty better than anyone, and to protect his throne he'll do ANYTHING, like completely eliminating his enemies.... but... he thinks MAYBE he had SOME hesitation too? I can't find the exact passage, but I'm fairly sure TL1 Rupert also knew that Lari was ignorant about the whole thing, but still ended up killing her. But in any case, I agree with your thought process. I believe House Belois was captured and killed quickly in March, while she was allowed to live outside at the manor until it was burned down and she was arrested soon after, and then executed in August. A reasonable conclusion is because TL1 Rupert felt some hesitation in killing an innocent, ignorant Lari. She's done nothing to warrant death, except by simply existing. That's why the trial was rigged: She was sentenced not only to death for being associated with House Belois's treason (which they were caught before they actually implemented it so it would make sense why it would be so hard to believe) as well as random excuses like "failing to act like a noble".

Yup look at that guilty judge making stuff up about her to sentence her to the guillotine >:( Again, if we take TL2 Rupert's character and project it onto TL1 Rupert, it's assumed he still has the basic personality trait of "not being bothered to harass, bother, or hurt others, because he doesn't care about them at all. He is not violent unless he's hurt first and retaliates." This also suggests that he might have delayed judgement on Lari because she's innocent, and he's actively punishing her... which would leave a bad taste in his mouth. But after thinking and pondering, he eventually makes his decision: he's a very careful guy, and he will prioritize his life/safety over the potential that Lari can somehow strike back and steal the throne back from him. HIS LIFE GOAL is the throne. Even if she doesn't know her own origins, and no one else knows as House Belois is gone, just the fact she has the blood of Akan is a threat enough, and he will get rid of her. Readers might also ask: Why doesn't TL1 Rupert just marry Lari to obtain legitimacy of the throne?

Simple answer: He would rather be alone than marry someone he doesn't trust. Lari is a nobody to him, so therefore she is out of the question. If anything, her legitimate bloodline is a threat to him, so she should be eliminated.

[iam93percentstardust]

🎄 Another sneak peek at the annual Christmas fic! 🎄

~

“Look,” Christine says gently as soon as the door closes. “Tony. I don’t think this is working out between us anymore. I think we need to call off the engagement.”

She can’t be serious. They’ve had a great relationship (okay, well maybe not a great relationship, but definitely a good one) for five years, and she fucks off to rural Montana for a week and decides that she doesn’t want this anymore? No way, this has something to do with Jake the flannel mountain.

She’s still talking, saying something about how she doesn’t feel like he’s ever really supported her hopes and dreams, which is absolutely ridiculous and he tells her that.

“You met your editor at a business dinner that I hosted. I invited him just because you said it was your life’s goal to work at that magazine. Did you forget that? Did you forget that your job is in New York? What are you going to tell them when your vacation time is up?”

She gives him a vaguely pitying look that makes him want to throw something. Possibly her. “Tony, there’s more to life than just your job and work. Not that you’d know that because you spend all your time in that workshop of yours.”

Like what? The vacations she wants to go on that he’s always made time for? The clothes she wants him to buy for her that he always does because he wants her to be happy? The date nights that he always leaves the workshop for, no matter how busy he is, because she gets so sad when he forgets about them and he hates it when she looks that way?

He asks her exactly that, genuinely curious to know what more she could possibly want out of him. “What else is there?”

“That’s so sad that you think that’s all there is,” she says, and that wasn’t his point at all, but before he can say that, she continues, “Like Christmas, Tony. You know, we’ve never once celebrated the holidays together? How are you okay with that?”

Well, yeah, they’ve never celebrated together. Growing up, Christmas, for Tony, was a time of photoshoots and Howard locking himself in his office for last-minute business deals before the end of the year and getting left behind as his parents drove off to yet another rich people’s Christmas party. Christmas wasn’t a time of joy and family, and he’s had no reason to change that as an adult. Christine had always said that was one of the things that she liked about him because it gave her a chance to get one up on her coworkers who always took the holiday off.

“Christmas is important, Tony. Jake spends every Christmas volunteering at the animal shelter to give the unadopted animals the best holiday they could have. And you just spend it in the office.”

Sure, but the Maria Stark Foundation’s Holiday Gala raises enough money every year to keep the New York soup kitchens fully stocked for at least six months, so he thinks he’s doing pretty well on the charity front.

“I know we used to have the same values,” she says. “But I’ve changed since I met Jake again.”

He has the sneaking suspicion that she’s getting ready to justify the fact that she absolutely cheated on him this last week.

“He gets me, and he loves me, more than I think you ever did.”

Wow. That one really hurts. He has done so much for her, but because he couldn’t fly out with her this one time, he suddenly doesn’t love her. What right does she have to tell him his own feelings?

“He makes me so much happier than I was with you.”

“I get it,” he says abruptly. “You don’t have to twist the knife. He’s perfect and everything you ever wanted, and I’m not. I get it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. He can be mature about this. He can be a grown-up about this, just like Pepper is always begging him to be. “I only wish you the best of happiness with Jake. I hope you guys build a great life together.”

Tears shine in Christine’s eyes, which is so unfair. Tony’s the one who’s getting dumped. He should be the one crying. “Aw, thank you, Tony. Your blessing means the world to me.”

Yeah, that is absolutely not what’s going on here, but sure, anything to get him out of this situation faster, because if he has to stand here for any longer, he’s absolutely going to break down about the fact that his fiancée cheated on him, moved halfway across the country without telling him, and then dumped him all because he… doesn’t celebrate Christmas?

[sapybara]

I've been a huge q fan in the past so I know all his history. I am not even surprised, how long has it been since we found his server management to be sketchy, not even talking about his merch compagnie. 

In no fandom have I ever truly called anyone a BITCH and a cunt . But he is one. Hey, I never expected anything from him about Shelby/ or Wilbur and forever, we know who he is and he does not give a fuck, but to lie so blatantly about how much involvement he has in the qsmp management, that a scrum!! Dude, how could anyone believe him?? It makes NO sense!

Exploiting workers, literally putting anti unions mesures , stealing people ideas (fans on twitter) then blocking them (probably not him who did it but he still got credited for the ideas and said nothing)

That's to ONE thing I will get entertainment CC crucified for. It's not difficult to not be a greedy corporate snake, especially when you are already so rich! 

Fuck QUACKITY

Also, people who say that he is just shocked because Wilbur was one of his bff so he doesn't want to go into (any) detail about that: Q and Wilbur haven't been close for half a year and Shelby posted her video a long time ago. Even Tommy said something for fuck sake!

You are literally talking with dtblr last quackity main™ believe me I know what you're talking about, I'm not surprised either.

His stans are being all "they were close friends! Give him some time!! You're all being cruel" well first of all they were not. Second of all, I do not want a statement, a simple kicking him out and asking people to support victims would've been enough. But no, he talked about it for the grand total of THRITY SECONDS, didn't mention Shelby or any victims, didn't mention he's an abuser, and made it all about him. How this is hard for HIM and how sad HE is, etc etc.

He goes on saying he "didn't know the volunteers weren't being paid" and that he thought it was a process were they would eventually (!!!) get paid. Excuse me? How do you not know? One thing is asking the admis not to spoil you what will be tomorrow's event and another radically different thing is saying you don't know what's going on in YOU OWN TEAM of YOUR SERVER. Especially not when it's your money ffs, do you not know where's that going? Do you not know who do you work with? You can't just brush it off as "not knowing" when it's your fucking enterprise. And im not even mentioning the whole NDA thing and how no one could even speak to CCs or other admis off stream, how they were requested to censor themselves in their personal accounts because "controversies" (real life crimes) could stain the server's name. Be for fucking real.

He doesn't even talk about all the merch problems, the fake giveaways and how ridiculously sketchy his merch company (that he/his family owns!) is.

Look I'm not trying to be a hypocrite here, I don't wanna apply dranti logic and demand a perfect apology and explanation the second all exploded. I'm not gonna ask him to know about every little conversation that goes on inside his server or discord. I'm not gonna say he doesn't have the right to mourn whatever friendship he may have had. But that doesn't mean I'm not fucking pissed and none of that excuse him for not knowing what's going on with his employees, his merch and reducing the actions of TWO abusers to "controversies". He needs to be held accountable, but, funnily enough, his fans are too parasocial to realize they're babying him and telling everyone who listens how he's not responsible for anything and it's the higher ups fault. His name is literally everywhere, he prides himself of being the owner and sole inventor of the server, how much higher can you go from there?

I'm upset about the poor guys who are being exploited and actually pity the fans that truly can't see what's before they eyes. Hope those people have it better from now on, but Quackity? He can go cry about it on stream if he wants, this entire thing has been a mess since before it started and I'm happy to see it crashing down. Deserved!

[beethebisblog]

I had to watch the episode in short bursts, because people kept needing me for things.

I’m gonna ramble about everything that happened for each character but first I just want to say that I loved hearing more of Tricia’s singing voice this episode, she has been underutilized so far.

-Susan

At the beginning of the show, Susan was very quickly cast as the pretty but mean popular girl jealous that her ex-boyfriend moved on. Then slowly, they did this thing that I REALLY love, where they gave her more depth, more complexity, and more dimension. They have shown us perfect Susan who works hard to maintain the status quo and please her mother (who is encouraging unhealthy relationships with food and slutshaming her daughter, seriously Mrs. St Clair can suck a rock). And now they’ve shown us another level to Susan, acknowledging that rich white families will ALWAYS do whatever it takes to protect their reputations. Her mother holds this over her head, but it was clearly a very traumatic, very difficult thing for her to do in secret without the support of anyone. Sure her parents made it so that she could get the abortion, but based on how we’ve seen her mother treat her, we know Susan doesn’t get any real support and it makes her actions that much more heartbreaking. When she tries to stand up to her mother, and Olivia (who is neither right nor wrong in her reactions) doesn’t want to believe she’s changed, you can see that she accepts that. It isn’t until Olivia is a steps a little too over the line that she reveals the truth about what she witnessed. Susan is 16-17 and she’s hurt and she’s scared and she’s sad and I love her.

-Dot

I don’t have much to say on her, except that she really is a sweetheart who deserves better friends. Honestly, sometimes a pity date with the bad boy of the school is way better than sitting there alone while your friends all have dates. She’s so cute. Her poor nose and eye :(

-Hazel & Wally

Doing them together because they were together in all of their scenes. Hazel was giving Cinderella vibes. I appreciate the fact that while Wally doesn’t understand some of her Hazel-ness, he really seems genuinely interested in learning about her interests and getting her to at least attempt to enjoy his too. I loved their duet. I love that during the utter chaos that was the rest of the episode, they got to be in their little bubble where everyone pointed out that they are seemingly perfect for one another. I don’t normally trust media when it says stuff like that, but I actually really like them together.

-Nancy

I love her so so so much. It’s entirely relatable the way a crush can feel all consuming and irritating all at once. Her (and Cynthia’s) song was very much a highlight of the episode. I love that Nancy is just an all in type of person and she doesn’t really stop to hear a no for the answer. I do wish they would give her a little more depth. They’ve done a good job with Susan and Jane and Olivia and Richie and Buddy. All we really know about Nancy is that she is incredibly headstrong, a very talented seamstress/ designer, the daughter of the owners of the frosty palace who may or may not be an only child, a Buddhist who’s not a fan of reading, “scary” and although she hasn’t had much of a romantic life in the past, she has a big crush on Potato. Which is valid, because he‘s great. But still, I want to see a new dimension of Nancy with this new conflict within the Pink Ladies.

-Cynthia

She is in the “shit I am gay but no one can know, especially not the person who made me realize it’s true” phase where she fights it HARD. Compulsive heterosexuality hurts. She needs someone to talk to, before she implodes further. That moment with Lydia made me so so sad, but that’s just a real part of quiet culture for someone. Cynthia is hurting, and that doesn’t give her a free pass to hurt Shy Guy like she did, but I understand it. She’s gonna have to apologize bug time, when she comes around. Also, as always, I loved Ari’s part in the duet.

-Olivia

I’ve decided that if her and Richie are twins, she’s the older one for sure. The ages are so hazy, or at least their grade levels, and I’m kinda confused. So my head cannon is that she’s the older twin. Which would explain her protectiveness over the Pink Ladies, without factoring in the slightly homosexual overtures to hers and Jane’s friendship that is not present with the other PLs. Olivia hates Susan, and she does have reason for it. But that really doesn’t explain why she wouldn’t let Jane explain. Because people can change, and they can learn. But Olivia does NOT have forgive Susan, but she should’ve given her so-called best friend a chance to explain. No matter what Susan said, Olivia had NO right to do what she did. She knows what the school is like once they realize you are a “slut” and she knew that the consequences always land on the girl (does she not remember the extent of the conversation at Dot’s party??). Sorry that just made me so mad. And then to tell Richie what happened between Buddy and Jane :/Her moments with Gil were really sweet. But her going back to her abuser does not send a good message at all and I hope this is addressed before the season is over.

-Jane

She did the right thing not going with either guy to the dance. She was unsure of her feelings for either and did not want to lead them on or hurt them by choosing too soon, and that was a mature decision. Her budding friendship with Susan is interesting and kind of ironic. Her accidentally confirming Olivia and Mr. Daniels is unfortunate, but also something that would reasonably happen to me because I am bad at de-escalation techniques. Jane is very much people pleaser, even after everything, so it makes sense that she would sort of defend Susan. Her coming home to Olivia’s jacket already on her porch (which like, hello Flash because how did she get there before Jane) was almost the opposite of the scene where Olivia brings Jane’s jacket to her house. She did not even really register what Richie told her about Buddy and the election results (which like, how did he find out?)

-Richie

He is a good guy. He respects Jane’s space; he saw that Dot was devastated about her going dateless to the dance (which also sorta implies she’s never been if they previously had to have a date to register a ticket and she said her friends always had dates but not her). He was very kind to go with her, and go along with her quirks. Teenage jealously makes a person unsteady, and I am just glad someone told Jane the truth about Dick Aldridge.

-Buddy

I am still not his biggest fan, but man was he sad this episode. It seems like everyone is moving forward except him, which is expected when you realize most of your life is a lie. He needs a slap in the face and a hug.

-The others (Shy Guy, Potato, Mr. Daniels)

As for the rest: Potato remains one of my top guys; Shy Guy and Cynthia in the kitchen actually made me cringe because I know she feels nothing what he feels for her; and the predator needs to be imprisoned. I can’t believe he is trying to suck her back in :(

I need my girls back together. I need some proper communication to happen between Lydia and Cynthia.

Also episode 8 comes out the day before my birthday so I hope it’s a good one (they have not let me down so far).

[hecksupremechips]

giving u a lil friend smooch and permission to talk about whatever crosses your mind MWAH

Whale ain’t that sweet 🥺

Time to talk very long in an incoherent way cuz im out of meds and sleep deprived and having issues rn so its. Not gonna be. Words gonna go silly

I’m never not thinking about shinji this is known this is truth I think shinji and ryuki have this shared problem of being my favorite characters ever but the game theyre in sucks and is Bad so bad lol but shhhh I don’t wanna talk about that part rn I’ll get really bitchy. I’m very insecure that when I write the shinji and akihiko relationship during the 2 years separation that I’m making aki look like a fucking asshole on accident liek I’m worried my biases are skewing things cuz like okay. Main conflict is aki wants shinji to come back to sees and feels like he’s blaming himself too much for the incident with kens mom to the point of not doing ANYTHING like just wallowing in self pity. And shinji doesn’t wanna come back cuz guilt + trauma has ruined everything about sees and he doesn’t have a clue how to control his persona so he doesn’t wanna risk another casualty and he’s sick of being asked to come back to that shit and starts destroying himself yayyy. And its a very real conflict like it hurts cuz neither of them are WRONG but they’re horrible at communicating and they have so much bullshit to carry that they should t have to carry on their own but they don’t have anyone to rely on, especially not shinji. But sometimes I think like in both the canon and in fics akis perspective is shown waaay more and he’s made out to be like. Correct? Like I’m supposed to think shinji is being unreasonable or something or that he’s an asshole and it’s like. No??? I think he’s actually very reasonable like he really shouldn’t have to come back to sees it’s not the end of the world like yes, he shouldn’t be isolating himself it’s not good for him but that’s not like. A moral failing he’s literally just traumatized and suicidal and like. Of course he’s isolating! Of course he’s being secretive and hurting himself and feels at fault like he isn’t a regular persona user his persona is literally actively dangerous which would obviously translate to him as “im dangerous” and hes also literally been told all his life he’s a failure he’s literally the loner with “behavior issues” and no family no money treated as a burden by all the adults and being in sees was his one chance to be a part of something where he finally wasn’t a failure and then. He failed at that too. And he loves his friends but like, their lives aren’t the same. Mitsuru has always been rich and beautiful and smart and akihiko came from the same place but he got adopted by a nice rich family and is a star athlete and smart and well behaved and then theres shinji the drop out freak and I think that’s also what leads him to connect with strega and get the suppressants is just like. The feeling of being misunderstood by the people who SHOULD understand but they just like. Literally cannot because of their different roles in society. It’s painful! It isn’t something he wants to address but it’s undeniably there! And it’s painful for aki just like. The realization that he alone cannot move shinji he alone cannot make him happy again and theres parts of him he’ll literally never understand it’s horrible cuz they’ve always understood each other and been able to pick each other up but the world is getting too complicated and they’re both so damaged and can’t do it alone anymore and punching shadows just. Won’t fix it. They need so much love and support and therapy and cookies many cookies and shinji lives in my pocket

Okay now that I’ve gotten the bulk of that ramble out of the way let’s get cute okay. I really wanna write halloween fics rn even though it’s July like it’s actually a need and of course it’s about my favorite tsundere family trio so basically basically basically October is a horrible month for them but they and the rest of sees decide to get really into Halloween just to have something good to look forward to and I like to imagine shinji in an attempt to find a will to live gets like REALLY into sewing like hes always been able to sew just like basic stuff like he always mended clothes and made miki a stuffed animal out of old socks (it was really ugly she loved it) and he could stitch up wounds but he never really got too skilled at it. And then one day he notices koromarus costume is a little wonky and this spirals into I MUST MAKE A NEW COSTUME FOR KORO and before he knows what’s happening koro is dressed like a clown fish and a month has passed and he hasn’t tried to hurt himself once so FUCK this is now something he’s become deeply invested in. So he decides he’s gonna make Halloween costumes for Ken and (sigh) himself cuz yeah. There’s obviously gonna be a halloween party costumes are required. Ken I think would like trick or treating but also he’s like IM NOT A BABY I DONT DO THAT and I think aki and shinji would respect that but also they kinda really wanna take him trick or treating cuz a) it’s fun and they need fun memories and Ken needs to have childhood fun before he’s too old b) they didn’t really get to have much halloween fun as kids and c) candy free candy. Still undecided if they’ll go or not BUT they will at least have the party to go to and they’re all like oh noooooo (secretly very excited). So back to sewing shinji tries to engage with kens interests and with great great effort he promises Ken that they’ll dress up as his favorite characters and Ken sooo wants to act cool but he’s over the moon and the idea of shinji dressing up with him is just. Sobs I’m actually gonna cry JUST THINKING ABOUT IT STOP. So shinji gets some shitty ass discount fabrics and is gonna hand sew them but he’s starting kinda late and his hands are a lot weaker now so he’s forced to use 🙊 the sewing machine. And he is very bad. With the sewing machine but he cannot destroy it with his ax because it was a gift and he doesn’t have time to struggle with this and he wants to call fuuka for assistance but he’s a little shit who hates asking for help and also it’d ruin the surprise if she knew his costume plans obviously. So basically enter aki who walks in on this and he’s like hey did you know you can read the instruction manual for help and shinji is like FUCK YOU OF COURSE I KNOW THIS and aki is like then hwhyyy are you nOT DOING IT and so they have to take a night to figure it out (date night goals) and it’s literally so difficult cuz the instructions are total gibberish to shinji but at least he knows how sewing works while aki is the opposite he can read the manual but doesn’t know shit about threads or fabric so they have to work together it’s atrocious it’s like diffusing a bomb and then other conflicts come up aki is like. Am I getting a costume too and shinji is like lol no and aki is like but I wanna be part of this joint costume thing it sounds cute and shinji is like ….did….did you think you weren’t gonna be part of this???? And aki is like YOU NEVER DISCUSSED IT WITH ME???? So poor aki just thought he was excluded from the big costume moment cuz shinji forgot to explicitly tell him that it was a thing they’d both do cuz he just thought it was obvious and this changes EVERYTHING SHINJI so they discuss their costumes and shinji is like okay cool but I’m still not making your costume for you that’s something you gotta figure out for yourself lol and then they get the machine working and shinji makes a third costume and it’s sweet but also he does get scolded for overworking himself but it’s fiiiiine it’s literally fiiiine and Ken is happy even though the costumes are really wonky cuz he thinks he looks JUST LIKE his

Blorbo and also he honestly didn’t think shinji and aki would actually go through with dressing up with him cuz he’s just so used to empty promises and not getting good things BUT THEY FOLLOWED THROUGH and they look really dorky and stupid but they match with him and they did it for him and they look like a family and oh god im crying again hold on. And they get a lot of candy obviously and side note akihiko would be that bitch who gives raisins to everyone because it’s the only candy he likes and he genuinely thinks kids would want it because ITS LITERALLY NATURES CANDY and their apartment gets egged

[womanofwords]

The Poisoned Prodigy (Chapter 5)

I woke up to James shoving a phone in my face first thing. "Your friend's on the news," he sang, in the stupid way he always did.

"What?" I asked, rubbing the blurriness out of my eyes. "Did he die? Oh, god, this should not be the way that I find that he's dead!"

"He's not dead, they got the guy who poisoned him!" James laughed. "Look at his freaky little mugshot, man! He looks like an insect with those massive bug eyes!" He scrolled down to a picture of a mugshot of the boy from the awards ceremony.

The blond hair I'd recognised from earlier now looked stuck to his head. One side of his face was already bruised, a wine-red colour compared to the Greek yoghurt hue the rest of his face was. That had to be from Sally tackling him to the floor.

I took the phone from James and started reading it aloud. "Ernest DuBois carried out the murder attempt on Patton Reynolds by spiking a water bottle with a toxic substance and placing it in a convenient place for the announcer to get to if Patton were to need something for his throat. Upon searching the school for the source of the poison, a supply was found in the accused killer's school locker. In the meantime, Ernest DuBois proclaims his innocence and has the support of his family."

"Good thing you don't go to one of those fancy schools," James laughed. "Those rich kids are . . ." He twirled his index finger next to his temple and sniggered as he left the room. Rich kids might be crazy, but was Ernest DuBois really a rich kid? Maybe he was a scholarship kid with a fancy name.

A quick Google search confirmed that Ernest DuBois actually was rich. From several generations of oil money, no less. Apparently, it all started when his great-grandfather, Sylvestre DuBois, who had bought land previously assumed to be worthless and endeavoured to build a house on it. Somehow, this culminated in him tripping over his own feet and falling on a soft path of earth that erupted into an oil geyser. Ridiculous, but true.

That didn't mean the rest of the family was resting on their ancestors' morals. Multiple family members had gone on to be doctors, lawyers, business owners, and other impressive job titles. And then there was Ernest, the family criminal. Mommy and Daddy must be so proud.

I texted Sally a link to the news article. Not the best way to start a conversation with your best friend's possible crush who was now helping you solve his poisoning, but I had to start somewhere. Underneath the link, I had a question.

What was Ernest like with Patton in school?

She answered back in ten minutes.

When Patton arrived, Ernest immediately hated him. He kept snarking about how Patton was nothing special and got himself a pity scholarship because of the false leg. Clearly projecting.

Did Ernest do anything to Patton?

Verbal bullying, stealing his stuff, putting thumbtacks onto his chair. One time, he was caught sabotaging Patton's goggles by Dr Jacobs, the headmaster, and his own parents.

That was weird. People's parents don't typically wander around their school, unless they're helicopter parents.

Why were his parents in the school?

Ernest's parents were rich and paid for new science equipment. The headmaster was bringing the school's investors on a guided tour around the school to show them what their money paid for and they all got a front row seat to their precious baby stabbing another student's safety goggles with scissors. It was a big scandal.

So Ernest had been bullying Patton at school. He'd clearly told his aunt and uncle, but he'd never told me. He did mention that Ernest didn't like to be upstaged, so maybe that was important somehow.

Was Ernest anywhere near as smart as Patton?

No. He was an awful student and didn't understand a lot of the stuff in class, despite being in the advanced classes. Mommy's money indeed.

That was an interesting thought. Ernest wasn't as smart as Patton, and hated him for it. That could be proof that he just wasn't smart enough to poison Patton the way he was. But we'd need to find someone who would be able to tell us exactly how Ernest could have poisoned the water Patton drank.

Is there anybody that could tell us more information?

Dr Jacobs. He's the head of science and wrote literal books about poison. He's a safe bet.

:-)

The next time I walked into Sandalwood Institute, I didn't feel as lost. Sally was with me this time. "I've already got us an appointment with him. When I say everyone loved Patton, I mean everyone loved Patton," Sally said.

"How much are we talking?" I asked. Sally pointed to a shrine with flowers laid at the bottom. Patton's picture was affixed to the wall, a soft smile gracing his face. It had to be a school photo. "Whoa."

"See what I mean?" Sally looked at it with a mixture of shock and sadness, which changed to a small, smug, smile. "Ernest DuBois wishes he had this kind of love and loyalty."

We went up some stairs to the science block and I knocked on a door that read Dr Jacobs. "Come in," he said.

Dr Jacobs' office smelled like books, mainly because it was full of them. I saw some were written by him, Dr Oliver Jacobs. "Miss Kinley, Mr Song. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We're trying to figure out what Patton was given," Sally said. "On the night of the awards ceremony."

Dr Jacobs looked at Sally and I with sadness. "Oh, Miss Kinley. You're not trying to use Patton's hospitalisation to play at being a detective, are you? Because there are much better ways of working through grief."

"First of all, Patton Reynolds is not dead yet," I pointed out. "People keep forgetting that fact. Second of all, we're trying to figure out if . . . maybe Ernest gave him something that looked worse than it actually was."

His features softened, and the teacher adjusted his glasses before he spoke. "Apologies."

"How did he do it, though? The poisoning, of course. I know Patton was poisoned with the water, but what poison?" I asked.

"Cyanide," Dr Jacobs said, straightening up. "Found in plants such as apples, peaches, and cherries, specifically the seeds and pits. Suffocates the body from the inside out by interfering with the normal course of oxygen in the body."

Sally and I took a step back. "How do you know this stuff?" I asked.

"I used to be a head toxicologist before I decided to slow down and give back to the community," Dr Jacobs explained. He shook his head slowly. "Never thought my previous line of work would overlap with this nasty business."

"Where would Ernest even get cyanide?" Sally asked. I wish I'd been the one to ask questions like that. "That must have taken a lot of effort. How many peaches or cherries or whatever would he have needed for such a task?"

"We have some cyanide in powdered form in the science cupboard. I keep it under lock and key, but Ernest must have gotten it somehow. Oh, it's all my fault." The teacher put his head in his hands and moaned like a dying animal. "I should have had tighter security measures so Ernest would never have been able to break in."

"Don't blame yourself, sir," I said, feeling awkward.

"No, no, I should have expected something like this." He began to cry, fat wet tears leaking from the gaps in his fingers. "Ernest was always so cruel to poor Patton. If I had just cracked down on it more at the time and had been more of a disciplinarian than a mediator, maybe Patton would be going to school as normal and we'd all be going on with our lives."

"Thank you for all your help, sir," Sally said, dragging me out.

"That was awkward," I said, once we were definitely far away enough that Dr Jacobs couldn't hear us.

"Awkward, but useful. It explains how the poisoner was able to get a hold of toxic substances so easily."

"And I guess Ernest was in the science labs a lot if he got nominated for an award in scientific advancements," I said, a sleepy memory of that night pushing and shoving its way to the front of my brain.

"Hmm." Sally looked up at the ceiling, then at me. "Vincent, where did the news report say the poison was found?"

"In Ernest's locker. Why; is that useful?"

"Absolutely. He never normally used his locker. He just walked around with all his books in his bag at once. People used to call him The Turtle because of how much slouching he did underneath all that weight."

"So it could have been planted there by someone who hates Ernest and Patton!" I gasped. "Or maybe just Ernest. Patton doesn't seem to have any enemies other than Ernest anyway. But who in this school could have hated Ernest?"

Sally laughed. "Why don't we make a list of people who like him? It's a shorter list."

"How short?"

"We could use a sticky note. That was ripped in half."

"Oh."

:-)

"Vincent, what's wrong? You haven't eaten your bulgogi," Umma said.

"I've been thinking about Patton," I said. "He could die in the hospital because of some evil person."

Umma got quiet. "Of course. You should still eat, though."

"Who's Patton? Appa asked.

"Long hair boy with fake leg," Umma told him.

"Ah."

Dinner was quiet until I went upstairs to the room that James and I shared. In reality, James' stuff crept into what was supposed to be my space like fungus on bread. The only sign of it being my room was the bright green skateboarding helmet that I kept hanging off the headboard on my bed.

The one Patton got me for my birthday.

If you want to read the other chapters, see Masterlist.

[ohmycale]

...a butler's POV

I woke up Xmas day and chose angst.

Hope you like and did justice to Hans' POV in my AU.

"Hans, are you ill?"

Hans wasn’t expecting that answer. Granted, he already anticipated a multiple of possible reactions, which often ranges from burning looks, hardened brown eyes and even light arm shoves from His Young Master. The Young Master never resorted to physical reactions because everybody knows that the Young Master wasn’t built like their Master was. He had Ron for intimidation and Beacroix if he needed to have a little more ‘push.’ He never thought he would be on the receiving end of a disbelief look from the man he is currently serving.

"No, young master. I’m well and not under the weather. Why do you ask?"

"It’s either you are ill or you misheard."

"I don’t think so, Young Master. Master Deruth clearly said..."

"I heard you fine the first time. I believe you misheard still..."

Hans opened his mouth to answer but his Young Master beat him to it.

"Do you think it’s strange that I am invited to my own mother's memorial service when my mother died a long time ago? Are you not offending the Countess by such saying such things?"

Hans began to sweat. The late Countess Jour was the one who gave him employment when he had nothing to his name. He was young when the late Countess took pity on him as a small and weak child in the streets of the Henituse county.  He and many servants in the house owe their life and livelihood to the Cale’s mother. The late Countess' death was a strike against the whole household. Even with the Master gone, the Young Master stepped up with aid of the Molan father and son to keep up the house. When the recent Countess came in, everybody’s nerves were affected by the tension of the new masters and the master who stood by them during such drastic change. Master Deruth even ordered that his former wife’s name will not to be mentioned in the house due to fear of alienating his new spouse. They obeyed reluctantly but they also knew that it deeply wounded their Young Master when he heard it. As servants of the household, they have no authority and no recourse but silently supporting their Young Master in any way they can.

Hans has no answer for his Young Master. As part of the service, he is privy to many things and truth in the mansion and the family. However, he is not permitted to speak nor even defend the young man whom he serves. He cannot talk back to his Master and Mistress of the House. As the years go by, the situation didn't improve. He understood the efforts of his Master's these past years trying to reconcile with his son. But he also knew how hurt his Young Master is and the why Cale delivers the same effort of dodging his father's every effort. Every servant knows that the Young Master does the same with Countess with an alarming success. Servants knew they are almost walking in a minefield every time the Young Master interact with the couple.

Hans understood both father and son. But even this round of trying to pull his Young Master using a memorial service is just asking for disaster. He understand desperation but stupid desperation is something he hasn't witnessed from a rich and powerful noble like Deruth Henituse.

What is the most appropriate thing to say to this? Hans questions himself. Hans sighed and when he looked again at his Young Master and saw surprised to see his master already dressed. Hans tried to apologize but his young master’s expression stopped him.

“Hans, we both live under this house. You know the unspoken rules and things not just about the upkeep of the house. It applies to the things about me and the people living here. You know my situation and I know your situation. I despise it but I still need to live with my father and his new family. As long it is the case, we are still subordinate to his will and wishes. No matter how stupid they are. The Count is still an authority figure in my life…although I wish it wasn’t the truth. Just tell them that you told me and you never got an answer.”

Hans hates lying, especially to the people who are giving him his livelihood. However, he doesn’t want to be the middle of this ongoing back and forth situation.

“Very well. Where will you be going, then?” Hans dreaded when he saw a small smirk forming on his young master’s face.

“Hans, I thought you know me so well. You know I’m not going to tell you.”

Hans took a breath and felt he aged a week instead of starting his day.

[vodkabread]

Pity

897 words, slight references to transphobia and assault, as well as direct references foster system abuse, not a detailed description.

“So, Lex, what is the best prompt you have been asked to act out?”

After a short pause to think I came up with my answer “A while ago I was asked to act as a caricature of how people who only know me from TV see me. That question made me think a lot, and I think I owe an explanation as to why I acted the way that I did, because I know it seemed really out of character for me.” deep breath in, and keep talking.

“I've been in the public eye for a long time, so I think yall can understand why telling me to make a caricature of what people see in me would be difficult. It depends on when you know me from, I may be a sweet 14 year old girl to you, or a standoffish 26 year old man. To each of you that may vary, but one thing is consistent from person to person, and that is pity.”

“But i don't-” the reporter so rudely cut in, as if to prove my point. As if to prove that he does not believe that I can handle what people think of me.

“Excuse you, I wasn't done talking, and I won't be for a while, so shut up.” Tapping my leg on the floor, I look around, many people seem confused, some seem surprised that I'm aware. All of the crowd that I am sitting on a stage in front of have the audacity to seem offended. I, of course, keep talking. Today I don't care who I offend. “It's a funny thing, pity is. It also happens to be all that people ever look at me with. The funny thing about that, is that they know that what you're going through is wrong, but they don't do anything to help you.”

Something that I have learned to recognize is when somebody gets hit with the realization that you know more than they gave you credit for. It's a depressingly common sight for me. Currently I can see it on the reporter, and on the faces of every one of the hundreds of people there in the Live Studio Audience. “When I was put in the foster system, I was pitied. They didnt know why I was in the foster system, or the abuse I faced in it, but the fact that I was in it at all was enough to pity me. When I had nowhere to go on my 18th birthday and all I got was an eviction notice, they pitied me. And when I went into the military just to have a roof over my head, and so that maybe, just maybe, I could pay for college, they pitied me. They raised such a fuss that ‘their little girl is being roomed with MEN’ and that I was sure to be abused, nevermind that I AM a man. And I was then too. And when I was abused, all I got was pity. They didn't even move me out of the same barracks as the people who hurt me. I had to stay with them for two years until I moved to Special Operations.”

“When I lost my leg and was discharged from the military, pity. When I developed depression and drug addictions due to lack of resources, pity. Somehow even when I adopted two children they managed to turn that into something that should be pitied.” 

“The funny thing is, pity doesn't help anyone. I don't see those people offering support, lobbying for change in the foster system, nevermind that we all know that the foster system needs to change. I don't see them donating to helping people who aged out of the foster system, or trying to better the treatment of trans people or victims of assault in the military, or even donating to better resources for veterans or general mental health resources even. I don't see them trying to help low income families or single parents either.”

“Pity is what people give when they feel bad for you, but they don't want to actually help. Pity is the rich man's easy way out. Pity does not feed those in need, and you know that. Pity has no substance if you do not back it with action.”

“I don't want your pity. But what I want doesn't matter, because that is all I will get anyways. And so, my caricature is a little man, afraid of the world, who should only ever be pitied, not helped.”

“And that is the best prompt I have ever been given, because it made me think, and it made all of you think about what I was saying.”

I'm finally done talking, blissfully free of interruption, watching the interviewer and the host of whatever late night talk show I'm on this time, I've honestly forgotten which at this point at this point I've been on so many, open and close his mouth silently, doing a fantastic fish impression as he tries to think of what to say. 

I've said all I needed to say, and it's clear that the rest of my time here will be spent playing along with bits that aren't funny, and answering stupid questions that everyone already knows the answer to. But I've gotten my point across, although I doubt that it will change anything. It never does.

[sunderedwrath]

STORY.

Ceres hails from the Second reflection of the Source, a Sapiana (hyur) citizen of the oligarchy Empyrca (Ul'Dah) from a well-off family. One day, she returned home to discover her parents had engaged her to an older man while she wasn't present to defend herself, as their riches had been drained due to her father's gambling problems and her suitor promised to refill their coffers in exchange for a young bride.

Ceres refused and fled her home, only to realize the futility of it all as she wandered the streets of her city without anything to her name. She considered ending her life in protest of it all, not wanting to wallow in poverty or others' pity, but was suddenly approached a masked man introducing himself as Nabriales. He enticed her with the promise of never feeling helpless again, and upon her agreement, awoke the memories of her past life as the Ancient called Hera.

Hera had been an Ancient who lived in one of the many cities scattered across the Unsundered World, far from yet still obeying the laws of the Convocation of the Fourteen. She contributed to the world in her public service position, ensuring that communications to and from others went undisturbed. Ultimately, though, she lived a rather easygoing life in a beautiful utopia -- and, therefore, strongly supported the Convocation's desires to restore it to what it once was. And, upon seeing what she could have as opposed to the nothing she was now left with, how could Ceres do anything but join the Ascian's ranks?

Unfortunately, it turned out that she was made to be the lowest rank of Ascians: she had her past memories, the knowledge of the Ascians' grander scheme, and their nigh limitless powers -- but she could not obtain immortality by switching physical bodies and was nowhere near as strong as anyone above her. She couldn't even get stronger if she tried; as someone who had not been part of the Convocation, there was no way for her to ever be more than what she was.

Also, Nabriales was a obnoxious prick whom she quickly came to despise, but had no choice but to obey him lest she be unmade. She did is bidding, manipulated others to help push the Second's chosen hero into dangerous situations and tilt the balance of the elements -- all the while being far more careful not to actually face the infamous 'Warrior of the Wake.'

And when Nabriales achieved his mission, tipping the scales so that endless fires ravaged the world, she watched him depart without a single concern for any of the minor Ascians he had made. She could have easily teleported away, as many of her fellows did, but instead she remained and observed the defeated hero.

Reda'nüe was not the heroic type. She was self-centered and not above hurting others to further her own gains. She was also incredibly powerful -- far more than Ceres herself. As the Ascian turned it over in her mind, she decided to take a risk. She teleported both herself and Reda'nüe to a (temporarily) safer location, where she offered up the knowledge that she had. All of it.

"There's no saving your world now. It will be consumed by flame and lost within hours. But you don't need to go with it."

"And you can always grow stronger. You'd just need a little help from your fellow shards. I can take you to the other reflections. We can find them together."

Nabriales did not care enough to keep track of the minor Ascian lackeys who did his bidding, and the Unsundered only made note of the collapse of the Second as a whole on the path to Zodiark's restoration. Ceres, weak as she was in comparison, had now found an ally in a shard of Azem -- a powerful one, now content to survive by absorbing the souls of her fellows.

For a time, they have been able to operate quietly and avoid crossing paths with the other Ascians. It takes a very long time to locate your soultwin on an entire world, but they have succeeded twice now. Reda'nüe has absorbed the heroes of the Third and Sixth worlds, consequently paving the way for those worlds to fall to the Ascians.

[angrenwen]

"

You could admit to yourself then, as they had stood close to you, brimming with some kind of unnatural joy while still handling you with near intense softness, that you had started to fall in love with them. With these wonderful, strange and kind and lovely people who made you laugh until you were breathless, something you hadn't done for quite some time.

You did not care that their eyes held a golden shine, something human eyes should not have, that they sometimes whisked people into their backroom and you could never prove anything, but you had slowly pieced some things together by asking careful questions in the following days. Whenever they spoke with someone, at least a week or two later, a spouse or family member or acquaintance died.

It would have scared you in the past, before your marriage and it probably would scare others, but mostly you were...glad. That people who had no one else, who lived in darkness and fear as you had, as you still sometimes did when shadows in the shape of your deceased spouse followed at your heels, could turn to someone.

That someone would listen and do something when no one else would. If your fellow humans and the law and even faith was of no aid, there was someone else out there willing to offer a hand.

You loved them for that, too. A part of you loved Milly and Julius for caring, for seeing evil and destroying it. For extending warmth and safety to those who needed it.

That feeling of being safe around them had never disappeared either. To this day whenever you saw them, when you visited their shop or they dropped by your place in the evening, you still felt it. Warm and gentle and yet as steady and present as the sun and moon, as the tides that flowed around the world. They were safe and you were safe with them.

Tonight was the opening night for Daisy Chain and many of your former spouse's friends and acquaintances had shown up, commending you on your bravery in these trying times, as well as your altruistic, good heart.

Being widowed helped more than you had expected, though you weren't grieving at all, of course. It felt like people donated more out of pity than anything else, but you were willing to take what you could get. Especially if it ended up helping others.

Your downright decadent evening garb, made by Milly and Julius, seemed to get compliments from every single person that greeted you and even you could admit that you hadn't been dressed so finely even when your spouse had been alive. 

They had always wanted to look impeccable in the public eye and to be the envy of everyone who laid eyes upon them. Dressing you up like a decorative piece had just simply been part of that.

Milly and Julius on the other hand had hand-sewn you something so beautiful and fitting that just putting it on had given you more confidence. The second you had looked into the mirror, you felt as though you were looking at a fairy tale version of yourself. There was a shine to you that you had never seen before. 

Jane, your best friend who had been a steady source of support and cheer no matter what, had given you a very knowing grin when she had arrived with her beau. 

Milly and Julius had shown up a little while ago as well, mingling with the rich gentry, looking gorgeous and mysterious and they fit in seamlessly. Sometimes though you saw their smiles gain the faintest edge, their eyes tracking someone who you had heard unpleasant rumors about.

You regretfully didn't speak much with them, you were too busy socializing and they seemed to be doing their own little thing as well, but every so often your gazes met. Every time you felt your heart melt at the smiles they gave you. They looked proud and encouraging and so very lovely.

As the evening wound down, you found yourself glad to send your guests home, some more drunk than others. Jane was the one who ushering the last straggler out and into a waiting carriage. She waved at you with a grin and you waved back, mouthing a heartfelt 'thank you' at her.

She sketched a playful bow and mouthed 'always' back at you, before taking her beau's hand and letting him help her into their own carriage. She waved one last time as they drove away, looking tired but happy.

And then, finally, the stressful and yet very successful and exciting evening was over.

The only reason you heard Milly and Julius approach from behind was because they wanted you to hear them. Their steps still threading softer than a humans would and you knew from experience that they could walk utterly soundlessly. You looked over your shoulder at them, finding yourself relaxing fully.

"You did amazing work, darling," Milly said, voice quiet in the empty, large entrance hall and her eyes held a soft, warm golden shimmer in the candlelight. "You truly are beautiful inside and out."

"With a soul as bright as your spirit," Julius added. "Thank you, for honoring us with an invite. For letting us see you shine tonight."

This was another thing they did. They made you just a little speechless with the way they spoke with you, the easy-as-breathing compliments and sweet words and endearments. The way they looked at you. You hadn't had a desire to be close to someone in a romantic way after you had gotten married, but those two...

Within a year they had awoken many of your quiet, sweet little dreams about what love could be. You had buried those dreams upon your marriage and you had even thought them dead and gone until they had lifted your hopes back into the light.

You never wanted to marry again, but if it was them, if they would ever want you the way you had grown to want them, you'd be willing to offer up your heart one more time. To trust someone else with yourself, even if a part of you found the thought of such vulnerability quite terrifying.

"Tonight was quite the success," Milly said as she joined you by the window, the embroidery of her gorgeous dress shimmering in the candlelight. "Though you seem quite thoughtful now."

You might be biased, but in your opinion, she had been the most beautiful woman at the party tonight. She had easily charmed all other guests and no one had noticed her sharp gaze that missed nothing.

Julius joined her at your other side, elegant and tall and in your opinion, among all the other gentlemen, he had cut the most impressive figure. He had gotten everyone around him to relax, smiling and joking and casting him the occasional, admiring look.

You were the only one aware of the fact that people always said more than they meant to around both tailors. That they revealed things they hadn't meant to, especially when alcohol joined the mix. You had caught one or two startled faces as someone hastily excused themselves from a conversation or quickly changed the subject.

"You're just both on my mind," you answered honestly, allowing yourself to be a little daring, riding the feeling of relieved success that seemed to lend wings to your heart and soul. "Could you learn anything useful from anyone?"

"Oh, plenty," Julius reassured you with a charming smile, one that had enough of an earnest edge to let you know it wasn't one of those empty, charming smiles he offered to polite society. "Don't worry, we got everything we wanted and more."

"Even had we gained nothing, we would have greatly enjoyed ourselves," Milly added, drifting an elegant step closer to you, her decadent dress brushing a little up against you. "We came here for you after all, first and foremost."

While that was true, you were glad that they would be able to help more people going forward. It was strangely reassuring to know that dangerous, nasty folk in positions of powers had predators after them. That, even if the law didn't do anything or even protected them, someone would still come for them to stop them.

"We will always be there if you want us to be," Julius added, voice dropping to something quieter as he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingertips warm and slightly calloused as they brushed your skin, causing a pleasant little shiver to travel down your back. "You have become quite dear to us."

"Very much so," Milly agreed and both of their gazes felt warm and heavy on you. "Which is why, if you are not too tired yet, we'd like to speak with you."

You were still riding the euphoric relief of a successful evening and while you knew the exhaustion would hit hard later, for now you felt wide awake.

"I have time," you reassured her, glancing between them curiously. "Is there something I can help you with?" You'd do everything you could to be of aid to them, that was for sure.

"This is no business talk," Milly said and grew more serious, her faintly golden eyes drawing you in with their intensity. "I want to say first that one word from you and we will never speak of this again, nor do we want you to feel like you have to say yes."

"No matter your answer, you will remain our cherished friend and you can always count on our aid," Julius added, just as solemn and serious and intense, his gaze capturing and holding yours when you glanced at him.

A thread of nervousness wove through your gut and around your heart, but it was far smaller than it would have been had anyone else approached you. Because Milly and Julius were safe. They might be dangerous for others, might be downright deadly, but they were protectors at heart.

Even now, as they stood close to you, that feeling of safety was there, the candlelight illuminating everything softly and warmly. It felt cozy and private and comfortable and it calmed every one of your anxieties. It soothed the part of your heart and soul that still carried deep bruises from your previous marriage. 

"Alright," you said, carefully lacing your fingers together to keep from fiddling with anything. 

You had no idea where this was going, but as you looked at them, at the way they watched you, a quiet hope you didn't dare voice began to rise within you. It unfolded weightless wings that seemed to fill your entire chest and before you knew it, you had taken a small step towards them.

They didn't miss that. Of course they didn't and you felt fingertips brush your hands and you easily unlaced your fingers to reach back. Hands that were quite different from each other, one slender and the other big, but both warm and calloused and they held yours as though it was made of spun glass.

"We never expected you to become such an integral a part of our lives when we met you," Milly said, voice growing softer and her smile was sweet and so very hopeful it made your breath catch and your heart flutter. "But the more we got to know you, the more you grew into the person you wanted to be, the more we enjoyed your company."

"We've both found ourselves looking forward to your visits, counting down the hours until we could close the shop and head over to your place," Julius said and when he reached out with his free hand, seemingly unable to help himself to cup your cheek, you couldn't help but lean your head a little into the touch.

His hand was warm and calloused and never anything but gentle and safe and he was solid and grounding.

"We talked at length about this," Milly said, her slender, strong fingers interlacing with yours in that same, gentle and safe manner and giving a little, reassuring squeeze. "If we should even say anything, if our affections wouldn't be entirely misplaced."

"They aren't," you whispered and your heart seemed to fill with so much bubbling hope you wouldn't have been surprised to see it spill out to stain your skin that same, beautiful golden glow that you saw in the eyes of your tailors.

"Then let us to be blunt," Julius said and his small smile was hopeful. "We found ourselves caring deeply for you and we hope that you might allow us to love you."

"We know you know we're not human," Milly added quietly. "But if you want us, we will gift you our hearts as surely as we gave them to each other. As you have welcomed us into your life, we'd welcome you into ours."

You didn't even have to think about the answer. Not when all your quiet yearnings and hopes and soft feelings and your longing for love wove into one big strand that tugged you towards them.

"You shall have my heart in return," you answered, your grip tightening on their hands. "For as long as you want me, it is yours."

"Forever then," Julius said quietly, smoothing his thumb over your cheek before he used the hand that cupped the side of your face to guide you a little closer. "Sweet one, let me steal a kiss."

You'd let him steal that and so much more if he wanted to. You closed your eyes and leaned up, his lips brushing yours with the same love and care he had shown you in all other regards.

"We'll take you out tomorrow," he whispered as he pulled back, he smelled faintly of champagne and something that reminded you of sunshine dancing on cool water, the sort of smell you wouldn't have found on a human partner. 

"We might have been planning a couple of possible dates," Milly added as he pulled back and you turned towards her. She was smiling so happily it filled your heart with even more joy in return. "We'd love to court you properly."

"You don't have to," you said as Julius' hand slipped away and she took a step forward, her slender, elegant hand settling on your other cheek. Her touch felt just as steady and grounding and safe.

"We value too much to not show our appreciation," she said, leaning in and you turned towards her like a flower to light and her soft lips brushed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and you turned your head just enough to meet her next kiss.

She too smelled like champagne and sunshine on water and her kiss pressed a little deeper than her husbands and you allowed yourself to get lost in it, in her, until she pulled back.

"I might have some plans myself," you admitted, thinking of all the times you had daydreamed about asking them out and them saying yes. Of showing them beautiful gardens and hidden little spots in nature outside the city. Of inviting them to art galleries and theaters and festivals.

"We look forward to them," Julius said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, while his wife smiled and kissed your cheek again. "Will you let us take you home tonight?"

"Yes," you answered with a smile. Tonight and any other night. For as dangerous as you knew they were, for all that they weren't human, you knew their hands would be nothing but gentle and careful. 

You could put everything you were into their hold and know, down to the marrow of your bones, that you would be welcomed and treated with care. That they had grown to love you as much as you loved them and despite the shadows lingering, the bruises left on your mind and soul, you could entrust your heart to them as surely as they had offered theirs to you.

*.*.*

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Drabble for the Tailors on Baker Street

@stargotheart asked for a part two for The Tailors on Baker Street an age ago and I finally got around to writing it! Small warning ahead for implied abuse and murder.

*.*.*

Using your horrible ex-spouse's money for a good cause had only been logical and natural. There were many people in situations where they needed aid but didn't know where to go and you wanted to offer a space where they could get good counsel at the very least, if not outright a way out, be it bad relationships or debts.

You hadn't been alone in creating the charity house Daisy Chain, your friend Jane had been a massive help, as had been Julius and Milly. Their eyes had briefly lit up sunshine-gold when you had asked if you could use that particular name and you'd never forget the way they looked at you afterwards.

The way Milly had cupped your face ever so gently in her palms, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks and her smile as sweet as honey as she looked at you. Julius had taken your hand afterwards, touch soft and careful and he had lifted it to pressed a light kiss to your knuckles, gaze holding yours.

"Let us know if there is anyone who could use our particular kind of help," he had murmured, his soft lips brushing your skin and his gaze downright captivating, the color his eyes turning a dark, smoldering gold. "We'd love to take care of such cases."

You could admit to yourself then, as they had stood close to you, brimming with some kind of unnatural joy while still handling you with near intense softness, that you had started to fall in love with them. With these wonderful, strange and kind and lovely people who made you laugh until you were breathless, something you hadn't done for quite some time.

You did not care that their eyes held a golden shine, something human eyes should not have, that they sometimes whisked people into their backroom and you could never prove anything, but you had slowly pieced some things together by asking careful questions in the following days. Whenever they spoke with someone, at least a week or two later, a spouse or family member or acquaintance died.

It would have scared you in the past, before your marriage and it probably would scare others, but mostly you were...glad. That people who had no one else, who lived in darkness and fear as you had, as you still sometimes did when shadows in the shape of your deceased spouse followed at your heels, could turn to someone.

That someone would listen and do something when no one else would. If your fellow humans and the law and even faith was of no aid, there was someone else out there willing to offer a hand.

You loved them for that, too. A part of you loved Milly and Julius for caring, for seeing evil and destroying it. For extending warmth and safety to those who needed it.

That feeling of being safe around them had never disappeared either. To this day whenever you saw them, when you visited their shop or they dropped by your place in the evening, you still felt it. Warm and gentle and yet as steady and present as the sun and moon, as the tides that flowed around the world. They were safe and you were safe with them.

Tonight was the opening night for Daisy Chain and many of your former spouse's friends and acquaintances had shown up, commending you on your bravery in these trying times, as well as your altruistic, good heart.

Being widowed helped more than you had expected, though you weren't grieving at all, of course. It felt like people donated more out of pity than anything else, but you were willing to take what you could get. Especially if it ended up helping others.

Your downright decadent evening garb, made by Milly and Julius, seemed to get compliments from every single person that greeted you and even you could admit that you hadn't been dressed so finely even when your spouse had been alive. 

They had always wanted to look impeccable in the public eye and to be the envy of everyone who laid eyes upon them. Dressing you up like a decorative piece had just simply been part of that.

Milly and Julius on the other hand had hand-sewn you something so beautiful and fitting that just putting it on had given you more confidence. The second you had looked into the mirror, you felt as though you were looking at a fairy tale version of yourself. There was a shine to you that you had never seen before. 

Jane, your best friend who had been a steady source of support and cheer no matter what, had given you a very knowing grin when she had arrived with her beau. 

Milly and Julius had shown up a little while ago as well, mingling with the rich gentry, looking gorgeous and mysterious and they fit in seamlessly. Sometimes though you saw their smiles gain the faintest edge, their eyes tracking someone who you had heard unpleasant rumors about.

You regretfully didn't speak much with them, you were too busy socializing and they seemed to be doing their own little thing as well, but every so often your gazes met. Every time you felt your heart melt at the smiles they gave you. They looked proud and encouraging and so very lovely.

As the evening wound down, you found yourself glad to send your guests home, some more drunk than others. Jane was the one who ushering the last straggler out and into a waiting carriage. She waved at you with a grin and you waved back, mouthing a heartfelt 'thank you' at her.

She sketched a playful bow and mouthed 'always' back at you, before taking her beau's hand and letting him help her into their own carriage. She waved one last time as they drove away, looking tired but happy.

And then, finally, the stressful and yet very successful and exciting evening was over.

The only reason you heard Milly and Julius approach from behind was because they wanted you to hear them. Their steps still threading softer than a humans would and you knew from experience that they could walk utterly soundlessly. You looked over your shoulder at them, finding yourself relaxing fully.

"You did amazing work, darling," Milly said, voice quiet in the empty, large entrance hall and her eyes held a soft, warm golden shimmer in the candlelight. "You truly are beautiful inside and out."

"With a soul as bright as your spirit," Julius added. "Thank you, for honoring us with an invite. For letting us see you shine tonight."

This was another thing they did. They made you just a little speechless with the way they spoke with you, the easy-as-breathing compliments and sweet words and endearments. The way they looked at you. You hadn't had a desire to be close to someone in a romantic way after you had gotten married, but those two...

Within a year they had awoken many of your quiet, sweet little dreams about what love could be. You had buried those dreams upon your marriage and you had even thought them dead and gone until they had lifted your hopes back into the light.

You never wanted to marry again, but if it was them, if they would ever want you the way you had grown to want them, you'd be willing to offer up your heart one more time. To trust someone else with yourself, even if a part of you found the thought of such vulnerability quite terrifying.

"Tonight was quite the success," Milly said as she joined you by the window, the embroidery of her gorgeous dress shimmering in the candlelight. "Though you seem quite thoughtful now."

You might be biased, but in your opinion, she had been the most beautiful woman at the party tonight. She had easily charmed all other guests and no one had noticed her sharp gaze that missed nothing.

Julius joined her at your other side, elegant and tall and in your opinion, among all the other gentlemen, he had cut the most impressive figure. He had gotten everyone around him to relax, smiling and joking and casting him the occasional, admiring look.

You were the only one aware of the fact that people always said more than they meant to around both tailors. That they revealed things they hadn't meant to, especially when alcohol joined the mix. You had caught one or two startled faces as someone hastily excused themselves from a conversation or quickly changed the subject.

"You're just both on my mind," you answered honestly, allowing yourself to be a little daring, riding the feeling of relieved success that seemed to lend wings to your heart and soul. "Could you learn anything useful from anyone?"

"Oh, plenty," Julius reassured you with a charming smile, one that had enough of an earnest edge to let you know it wasn't one of those empty, charming smiles he offered to polite society. "Don't worry, we got everything we wanted and more."

"Even had we gained nothing, we would have greatly enjoyed ourselves," Milly added, drifting an elegant step closer to you, her decadent dress brushing a little up against you. "We came here for you after all, first and foremost."

While that was true, you were glad that they would be able to help more people going forward. It was strangely reassuring to know that dangerous, nasty folk in positions of powers had predators after them. That, even if the law didn't do anything or even protected them, someone would still come for them to stop them.

"We will always be there if you want us to be," Julius added, voice dropping to something quieter as he reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingertips warm and slightly calloused as they brushed your skin, causing a pleasant little shiver to travel down your back. "You have become quite dear to us."

"Very much so," Milly agreed and both of their gazes felt warm and heavy on you. "Which is why, if you are not too tired yet, we'd like to speak with you."

You were still riding the euphoric relief of a successful evening and while you knew the exhaustion would hit hard later, for now you felt wide awake.

"I have time," you reassured her, glancing between them curiously. "Is there something I can help you with?" You'd do everything you could to be of aid to them, that was for sure.

"This is no business talk," Milly said and grew more serious, her faintly golden eyes drawing you in with their intensity. "I want to say first that one word from you and we will never speak of this again, nor do we want you to feel like you have to say yes."

"No matter your answer, you will remain our cherished friend and you can always count on our aid," Julius added, just as solemn and serious and intense, his gaze capturing and holding yours when you glanced at him.

A thread of nervousness wove through your gut and around your heart, but it was far smaller than it would have been had anyone else approached you. Because Milly and Julius were safe. They might be dangerous for others, might be downright deadly, but they were protectors at heart.

Even now, as they stood close to you, that feeling of safety was there, the candlelight illuminating everything softly and warmly. It felt cozy and private and comfortable and it calmed every one of your anxieties. It soothed the part of your heart and soul that still carried deep bruises from your previous marriage. 

"Alright," you said, carefully lacing your fingers together to keep from fiddling with anything. 

You had no idea where this was going, but as you looked at them, at the way they watched you, a quiet hope you didn't dare voice began to rise within you. It unfolded weightless wings that seemed to fill your entire chest and before you knew it, you had taken a small step towards them.

They didn't miss that. Of course they didn't and you felt fingertips brush your hands and you easily unlaced your fingers to reach back. Hands that were quite different from each other, one slender and the other big, but both warm and calloused and they held yours as though it was made of spun glass.

"We never expected you to become such an integral a part of our lives when we met you," Milly said, voice growing softer and her smile was sweet and so very hopeful it made your breath catch and your heart flutter. "But the more we got to know you, the more you grew into the person you wanted to be, the more we enjoyed your company."

"We've both found ourselves looking forward to your visits, counting down the hours until we could close the shop and head over to your place," Julius said and when he reached out with his free hand, seemingly unable to help himself to cup your cheek, you couldn't help but lean your head a little into the touch.

His hand was warm and calloused and never anything but gentle and safe and he was solid and grounding.

"We talked at length about this," Milly said, her slender, strong fingers interlacing with yours in that same, gentle and safe manner and giving a little, reassuring squeeze. "If we should even say anything, if our affections wouldn't be entirely misplaced."

"They aren't," you whispered and your heart seemed to fill with so much bubbling hope you wouldn't have been surprised to see it spill out to stain your skin that same, beautiful golden glow that you saw in the eyes of your tailors.

"Then let us to be blunt," Julius said and his small smile was hopeful. "We found ourselves caring deeply for you and we hope that you might allow us to love you."

"We know you know we're not human," Milly added quietly. "But if you want us, we will gift you our hearts as surely as we gave them to each other. As you have welcomed us into your life, we'd welcome you into ours."

You didn't even have to think about the answer. Not when all your quiet yearnings and hopes and soft feelings and your longing for love wove into one big strand that tugged you towards them.

"You shall have my heart in return," you answered, your grip tightening on their hands. "For as long as you want me, it is yours."

"Forever then," Julius said quietly, smoothing his thumb over your cheek before he used the hand that cupped the side of your face to guide you a little closer. "Sweet one, let me steal a kiss."

You'd let him steal that and so much more if he wanted to. You closed your eyes and leaned up, his lips brushing yours with the same love and care he had shown you in all other regards.

"We'll take you out tomorrow," he whispered as he pulled back, he smelled faintly of champagne and something that reminded you of sunshine dancing on cool water, the sort of smell you wouldn't have found on a human partner. 

"We might have been planning a couple of possible dates," Milly added as he pulled back and you turned towards her. She was smiling so happily it filled your heart with even more joy in return. "We'd love to court you properly."

"You don't have to," you said as Julius' hand slipped away and she took a step forward, her slender, elegant hand settling on your other cheek. Her touch felt just as steady and grounding and safe.

"We value too much to not show our appreciation," she said, leaning in and you turned towards her like a flower to light and her soft lips brushed your cheek, then the corner of your mouth and you turned your head just enough to meet her next kiss.

She too smelled like champagne and sunshine on water and her kiss pressed a little deeper than her husbands and you allowed yourself to get lost in it, in her, until she pulled back.

"I might have some plans myself," you admitted, thinking of all the times you had daydreamed about asking them out and them saying yes. Of showing them beautiful gardens and hidden little spots in nature outside the city. Of inviting them to art galleries and theaters and festivals.

"We look forward to them," Julius said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, while his wife smiled and kissed your cheek again. "Will you let us take you home tonight?"

"Yes," you answered with a smile. Tonight and any other night. For as dangerous as you knew they were, for all that they weren't human, you knew their hands would be nothing but gentle and careful. 

You could put everything you were into their hold and know, down to the marrow of your bones, that you would be welcomed and treated with care. That they had grown to love you as much as you loved them and despite the shadows lingering, the bruises left on your mind and soul, you could entrust your heart to them as surely as they had offered theirs to you.

*.*.*

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[painterontheshore]

Birth of Feminism

I would amend this statement of Jung’s. Men did have eyes for what a woman knows, but those eyes were tightly closed! But there have been some changes, especially in the working world, since Jung wrote those words during the Second World War. That war had inadvertently provided the seed for the women’s liberation movement that emerged in the mid- or late sixties, though almost no one recognized it at the time. Before the war most people lived in nuclear family units, and unless you were very rich or very adventurous you didn't go far from your place of residence. Many lived and died within a few miles of the hometown. People were bound by a narrow set of mores. I remember that when I was a teenager I firmly believed that if an unmarried girl became pregnant there were only two options: a shameful marriage or suicide. And I was typical of the people I knew. When the war came, people began to move to distant places when they were called to serve in the armed forces. The men went off to fight and the factories and shops needed employees to replace them, so women rushed into the “man’s world” and did quite well performing “man’s work.” Rosie the Riveter enjoyed her short career, which was cut off as soon as the men returned to their jobs, their homes and their women. The women who had put off marriage did marry now and started producing babies in great numbers because the impetus to give life follows the impetus to kill and destroy as surely as day follows night. In any case, women embarked upon an intensity of housewifery and motherhood with a vengeance, and soon they were up to their eye[1]balls in dishwater and diapers. But there was a difference. Motherhood in the past had been taken for granted. These women had tasted something else. Money in their pockets for which they did not have to account. Independence. Success based on their own accomplishments, not related to their marital role. Time out with “the girls,” when they could talk about their feelings without having to rush home to put dinner on the table at six o'clock. Yes, we missed our men, but not as much as later we would let them think.

My generation, the women who were newly married or soon to be married at the end of the Second World War, soon found ourselves caught in the endless round of feminine responsibilities and expectations much as they had been before the war, but we had a different consciousness about it. The animus had reared: his head, and then gone under again. A few of us white middle-class women, when our children were Sufficiently grown to be in school most of the time, had the temerity to go back to school to complete our education, and even to get a job. If it was financially necessary for the family that the woman work (and keeping house and caring for four or five children was not, in those days, considered to be work), she was pitied and praised. But, if she were married to a man with a good position and an adequate income, and she then went back to school and later to work, people would think that there could be only two reasons; either her husband couldn't support her, or he couldn't keep her happy in other ways. That a woman could want to do such a thing was rarely acknowledged. Men objected to their wives’ seeking a career because they felt it cast a poor reflection upon them; women criticized their working sisters, I suspect, because they were either jealous of them, or because they lacked the nerve to do the same thing, or both.

It was Betty Friedan, foremost author early in the women’s movement, who, with her book, The Feminine Mystique (1963), gave expression to women’s frustration. She shocked her readers by printing that “information for which a man has no eyes.” She wrote of the progressive dehumanization that “has carried the American mind for the last fifteen years from youth worship to that ‘sick love affair’ with our own children; from preoccupation with the physical details of sex, divorced from a human framework, to a love affair between man and animal. Where will it end? she asked. And in a prophetic statement which could have been a manifesto for the women’s movement that ensued, she stated:

I think it will not end, as long as the feminine mystique masks the emptiness of the housewife role, encouraging girls to evade their own growth by vicarious living, by non-commitment. We have gone on too long blaming or pitying the mothers who devour their children, who sow the seeds of progressive dehumanization, because they have never grown to full humanity themselves. If the mother is at fault, why isn’t it time to break the pattern by urging all these Sleeping Beauties to grow up and live their own lives? It is society's job, and finally that of each woman alone. For it is not the strength of the mothers that is at fault but their weakness, their passive childlike dependence and immaturity that is mistaken for “femininity.” Our society forces boys, in so far as it can, to grow up, to endure the pains of growth, to educate themselves to work, to move on. Why aren't girls forced to grow up—to achieve somehow the core of self that will end the unnecessary dilemma, the mistaken choice between femaleness and humanness that is implied in the feminine mystique?

This book, the arrival and widespread availability of The Pill in the United States, new technology that released more time for women to think about themselves, read, meet with other women and talk about their common frustrations—all these fueled the women’s movement. So did a whole spate of books by women who had found their voices and dared to use them to arouse, support and inspire other women. ... And, as more and more of Jung’s Collected Works were translated into English, the women who read them discovered the name of their repressed but vigorous and powerful side—the animus.

I had returned from Zurich after completing my analytic training at the Jung Institute in the mid-sixties. Among my first analysands were a number of students from the University of Chicago. Many of them had read some of Jung’s writings, and many were involved in the student uprisings on cam[1]pus and in the city of Chicago during the Democratic Convention of 1968. Some had used or were using psychedelic substances. Old images of consciousness were being shattered and people were looking for something to replace them. There was a new camaraderie in these groups between men and women and more spontaneous expression of feeling, both publicly and privately, than had been seen in many years. But still, political and economic power remained in the hands of the white male establishment. Women who were trying to move into the mainstream of the work world were having a very difficult time of‘it. Everywhere, doors were slammed in their faces. Women were discouraged from entering graduate schools, particularly professional schools. A few token women were accepted, but their lives were not easy. A woman physician told me that when she was in medical school her male colleagues taunted her to “toughen up,” as they gave her the messiest and most gruesome assignments. Then, when she finally learned to do what she had to do without wincing and to speak the same language as the men and to insist upon being treated with respect as an equal, they criticized her for being “too mannish.”

Women began to talk with one another. A woman I'll call Sara told me how it started for her. She was attending a professional meeting where the membership was about two thirds male and one third female. There was a panel discussion on stage in which only men participated. The floor was open to questions and discussion, but the questions came almost entirely from men. If, occasionally, a woman summoned up her courage and raised a question, she would barely be acknowledged by a “thank you” and then the panel would move on to the next question. Sara noticed that, if a woman did speak, no other woman would rise in her support. After the meeting, Sara cornered a few of the women who were present and asked them what they thought about the meeting. Opinions were shared. Most had felt squeezed out, outraged that no woman had been asked to participate on the panel, angry that they were made to feel invisible. So the women agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning without any men present. At breakfast, the fury at the indignity the women had experienced on this and many other occasions began to surface. Animus, recognized, was finding its expression. But it was not “masculine” although it might have seemed so in that it had a domineering, and demanding tone. It had a peculiar quality of a woman whose feminine side had been put aside in order to experience and express the emotions that had been masked for so long. The women decided to meet on a regular basis as a group, and they did so. There wasn’t any agenda. They wanted a place where they could reflect on their experiences as women and share those experiences with the others. Perhaps they could learn from one another.

This is how, in many different places, the consciousness raising groups began to take shape. Many books came out on the women’s movement, accounts of how women had suffered from the excesses of the power drive in a society controlled by an ethic that resembled a football game: power to the strongest and the toughest, brutal competition, winning is all that matters, and you don’t mind jumping on top of other people to get to the goal line. The general tone of these books by and for -women, however, stressed the victimization of women. Truly, this is how most women felt in those days. When you have been passed over for advancement and a person with a penis but with less experience and less competence than you gets the better, job, how do you feel? Women commiserated with women about how they felt victimized in their families, how they received less attention than boys in school, and how they were discriminated against at work. Supported by their “sisters,’ they began to be more assertive, while looking carefully at their husbands’ or bosses’ faces to see if they were going too far. Despite their resolution when women sat together, it was terribly difficult to claim that forthright aspect of themselves when they were in the company of men. These women understood, intellectually, that they had a right to speak up. Feeling it, feeling it with real conviction, was something else. They could not quite accept the animus in its positive aspects. At this time I became aware that several women in my practice would have what I call a classic animus dream. The gist of it is: I discover that I have a penis! They reacted with anything from dismay to horror.

Meanwhile, men were closing ranks against the first encroachment of women into what they considered their domain. When a woman would make a demand, or seem a bit more assertive than she had been in the past, men would become uneasy, to say the least. Research has shown that those in leading positions tend to exaggerate the numbers and strength of the underlings who first show power. The old boys’ networks strengthened their ties. I have it on good authority that many men actually believed that the women were plotting to take over! They thought that this was what was being dis[1]cussed in the women’s consciousness-raising groups. They would have been quite surprised to find out that there was more talk of victimization and feelings and self-pity than there was of revolution in those early days. The anger of women was directed against those men and those institutions that they characterized as “oppressors.” As long as women concentrated on their weakness and vulnerability and how they were taken advantage of, men had little reason to fear a social upheaval.

Men continued on the same path they had been pursuing, except that they now felt it necessary to throw some bones to quiet the barking dogs. These came in the form of token advancements for women in business, admission of a few more women to faculty positions in universities, and electing an occasional woman to fill a public office vacated by the death of her husband. Still, the feminine aspect of the man was not yet recognized by him. Men continued to project the anima, or soul image, that was buried deep in the psyche upon a woman out in the world. Many men, too proud for the most part to admit it, were also feeling oppressed by the social order and victimized by those who had more power than they had. They had much to cry about, except that Real Men don't cry. Men who kept their wives at home with the children had to work hard as the only breadwinners to supply the family’s needs. Often they had to work for bosses who made unreasonable demands, and in conditions that were less than pleasant. Many had to cope daily with fierce competition. Often they had to put aside their dreams of following a longed-for life path because they were responsible to fulfill their commitments to the women and children in their lives. Often, when they would have loved to sit at home and be with their children, they had, instead, to do the man’s chores around the house, or to work an extra job, or do business out of town. To complain would have been unmanly. At the same time, the negative aspects of the man’s anima envied the woman her righteous anger.

This phase, too, began to pass. In some segments of society, consciousness went through another stage of metamorphosis, again led mostly by women but affecting men as well. This was a stage we could characterize as “androgyny.” Androgyny was the word for the recognition of the psychological capacity within each individual to function freely, utilizing all his or her qualities, including those that had been assigned to the feminine or the masculine gender. It implied acceptance by men of their own feminine side, the anima, and by women of their own masculine side, the animus. I was a very strong supporter of the idea of androgyny in the mid-seventies, and I carried out some research on mythologies from many lands and cultures which described how the world had come into being through the combined efforts of the Masculine and Feminine, embodied in gods and goddesses. This work pointed to an archetypal basis for the equality and cooperation between the Masculine and the Feminine. One could view it either objectively, as referring to events in the world, or subjectively, as referring to the inner contrasexual figures, anima and animus. My book on this subject, Androgyny: The Opposites Within, was an effort to legitimize the presence and positive value of what had formerly been rejected or re[1]pressed. Other books in a similar vein also appeared, signifying a new freedom for men to bring the anima out into the open, and for women to give expression to the animus. This “androgyny’ movement characterized a second stage in the development of the anima/animus concept after Jung. A visible result of this was a minimizing of the differences between the sexes, while the similarities between the two sexes in capacity and potential were maximized. When women took on more responsibility for their own liberation from the prison of gender stereotypes, men began to respect them more. As women talked more openly and freely to men about their feelings and their needs, men found the voice to do the same. Each discovered more commonality with the other than’ they had experienced in the past. Specific gender roles began to break down. As women became more involved in work outside the home, men began to be more active participants in various aspects of family life. Nurturing and providing for the family came to be shared to a greater extent than before. Again, the classic animus dream would be reported by some of my women analysands. I awaken, or look in the mirror, to find that have a penis. But now the reaction is different. It’s more like, “Oh, well, that’s all right. It must, mean that I have some mas[1]culine qualities, and they could be useful.”

However, not all were ready to think of themselves as psychologically androgynous. Women, particularly, now began to fear for their lost femininity. I recall lecturing in the late seventies to a group of women students at an Ivy League university which had just begun to accept women students. These women were pioneers, testing their mettle in a first-rank university that had been open only to male students in the past. To be sure, these women were the daughters of highly successful women, many of whom had been in the avant garde for women’s rights. Their daughters came to my seminar in jeans and cowboy boots, mostly without make-up and rather grungy-looking. After a while I asked them what they wanted or needed to be happy. Several wistfully replied that they were missing their lost femininity. From today’s hindsight, it ap[1]pears to me that these young women were in a place where androgyny was “politically correct” although the phrase had not yet been coined. As androgyny became another gender stereotype, the freedom to be themselves, irrespective of “correctness,” had slipped away.

Another trend now emerged. This was the redemption of the distinctive gifts of the Feminine. Not all women who had ascribed their suffering to oppression by the “male establishment” had found release in the movement toward androgyny. Instead of a redress of the inequality between the sexes, they sought to validate the special experience of women, and to elevate it. The image of patriarchal authority in societies was to be superseded by images of woman-centered societies or goddess cultures. Historians and anthropologists had to go back to a time before the period of recorded history to dis[1]cover evidence of preliterate societies in which women were honored. Uncovered in the ruins of Anatolia and Crete and elsewhere were sculptures of female forms believed to be goddesses. The existence of goddess-cultures was said to be an important feature of a Golden Age some four thousand years B.C.E. A book with the title When God Was a Woman became a best seller.

All this was important for women in the process of reevaluating their feminine side. It was necessary to establish a firm connection with the archetype of the Feminine before the animus could be embraced with less fear, anger or resentment. We must first know who we are and where we have come from before we can risk embracing the lesser-known aspects of our beings. More recently, I have noted that, when women have the classic penis dream, they seem to be quite pleased with the addition to their anatomy!

--June Singer en "Boundaries of the Soul"