#and colin's knows when he's beat but he's still like “you cannot keep pulling the lady whistledown card that is hardly fair to me”

[teiasviago]

talking at a wall bc i hope that the order of pen & colin's kids is switched in the show so that they have a son first and then their son is portia's first grandson so he inherits the featherington estate. then pen & col get to live in pen's childhood home (and give it a sorely needed makeover). pen is a math whiz so she would obviously manage the estate and personally i think that colin would have so much fun throwing balls. they'd have their annual ball and the overarching theme for all of them is travel and then each individual ball's theme is a country that at colin has traveled to (some with pen). this also allows for an easy way for eloise to visit pen, and they can do their daily walks still. if i have my way there will be a parallel to the pilot with el and pen waving to each other from across the street.

[sofwrites]

Hi - I’m the anon who loves Welcome to the Digital Age, Babe. I hope you don’t mind, but I was inspired to play in the sandbox from one of the messages we exchanged. This is like a really really shorthand version of what I think happened when Colin called someone the wrong name in bed. I guess trigger warning if you don’t like to read about Colin and anyone else but also not really. PS - I have actually never done this before. I just silently read fics but I guess I was feeling inspired : )

It’s a few days before Colin is supposed to meet Penelope in Rome. He’s at some bar in Cyprus with some fellow travelers he’s befriended over the last couple weeks. One of them invited some more friends who invited some more friends and so on. At this point, the group is made up of a few people Colin somewhat knows and strangers. He’s been chatting up this tiny dark-haired girl who beelined to him once she and her friends joined. Her friend keep shooting her obvious sideways looks and pretending they’re coughing but actually giggling. And Colin knows he’s getting lucky tonight.

And ordinarily, he would be thrilled, the frequency of this occurring never taking away from the delight and anticipation. But tonight, he’s feeling out of sorts. He’s been planning this Rome trip for days, probably more intensely than he’s ever planned any trip for himself or even any trip with family. He’s been to Rome before. He knows it. But this is different. He can’t just take Penelope to the usual haunts. This is her first real solo trip and he hates how awkward she feels about traveling with him (it’s obvious). He knows she probably prefers Eloise but since that can’t happen, he wants to make it the Best Trip Ever.

So he’s distracted when Emily (the tiny dark-haired girl) bats her eyelashes at him. He’s thinking about whether he should take Penelope to Mercato Centrale or Testaccio Market when Emily pretends to bump into him. He’s questioning whether he should take her to the Coliseum the first day or the second day after she’s settled in when Emily leans in to whisper in his ear. But because he’s human, he hears her obvious request to “get out of here.” And because he’s not an idiot, they get out of there.

Soon they’re back at Colin’s hotel room and things start heating up. But he’s still having trouble staying present. He’s not thinking about the itinerary any more - that would be an obvious buzzkill. But he’s just…not feeling it? No, they can’t be right. This girl is exactly his type and she so very clearly wants him. But he cannot summon any kind of desire for her right now, even when she’s standing in front of him in only a black bra and underwear. This is not okay. He scrunches up his eyes and digs back into a library of flings and one night stands to ground him.

Suddenly, something comes to him and he just latches on to it. He sees soft, flushed skin and eyes so blue he sees the ocean. He feels red locks of hair in his hands and curling over his body. He touches curves and curves for miles. A familiar body in a black lingerie set that is just driving him wild. The image becomes clearer and clearer and so so familiar and yes, this is exactly it. He is gone. Things are heating up as Colin becomes more enthusiastic, finally stroking and caressing, desperate to be closer, until he hears it…

“Oh my god, Penelope…”

Embarrassingly, it still takes him a beat too long to realize that whatever was going on has now abruptly stopped. He opens his eyes and sees…not Penelope. Shit. Emily is staring back at him, anger and humiliation in her eyes. The next few minutes go as expected. Emily angrily pulls herself together, throwing some choice insults at Colin who can only offer weak apologies and an offer to pay for an Uber. Once Emily has slammed his door shut, Colin lays back on his bed. What the fuck was that? What the absolute fuck… He throws his arms over his face, willing himself to sleep but he sleeps fitfully, thinking about a familiar redhead in black lingerie.

A few days later when Colin meets Penelope at the Rome airport, the open shoulder of her shirt reveals a black bra strap that falls down her arm slightly as she bends over to pick up one of her bags. When she looks up, Colin (who was chattering away the moment he saw her) is now pink and quiet. He stays that way, making occasional comments, for the rest of the way out of the airport while Penelope frets that she’s making things awkward for this trip that Colin is forced to join.

A year and a half later, after a long overdue conversation and an even longer overdue kiss, Penelope pulls off her shirt to reveal a black bra and Colin (to his extreme embarrassment) loudly exclaims, “Fucking finally.”

Hi, my dear! I was so happy to see this message in my inbox 🥰 and I'm so honored that Digital Age inspired you to try and write for the first time!

he hates how awkward she feels about traveling with him (it’s obvious)

This made me smile so hard for some reason I love him being able to feel how awkward she feels through their texts and things. It's like I'm getting to be a reader of my own fic and it's so fun skdfnlsdkf

He's having trouble staying present??? 😭 my baby boy this is kind of cute idk

"eyes so blue he sees the ocean" 🥺🥺🥺 aw???

😬😬😬 oof okay colin not super smooth but... yeah.

And AW the end 😭 no this was so cute? I love this entire plotline (although I am sorry to Emily, homegirl didn't deserve that) and how it would fit into WTTDA! I would happily put a stamp of approval on this addition<3

Thank you so much for popping this in my inbox! If you want to, I would definitely encourage you to keep writing :-) this was so fun to read and had my grinning (and cringing). And the last line made me giggle.

[velvethopewrites]

A Question of Strength

Ginny weeps at the funerals only.

She cries so hard for Fred - gut wrenching, body-sobbing tears that she is embarrassed to think about. And then she cries for Tonks, knowing she will never see her friend’s funny faces again. And finally, for Professor Lupin and his painful life.  Ginny even cries a little bit for Teddy, who is of course, not dead, but now an orphan. A life barely begun but already filled with so much pain. 

As the second round of funerals begin, she thinks she finally has the crying out of her system, but Ginny cries buckets for Colin. Sweet, sweet Colin. And, just when she truly feels that she can cry no more, a lonely, sad, traitorous almost-desperate-tear even falls for Severus bloody Snape. Something she can scarce believe but it is there, on the inside of her hand after it has fallen its weary path down her face. 

She feels mesmerized staring at it until Hermione tugs on her sleeve to pull her away. Snape’s is the final funeral they attend and maybe it is that more than anything that gets to Ginny. Finally, the mourning can stop. Or, perhaps, she would have cried more but at this point the tears have all dried away and she only has one tear left to spare for the man who made her life living hell and yet saved so many. Saved Harry.

She is shocked at herself - because Ginny does not like to cry. In fact, since the insanity of her first year, has made a deal with herself not to cry. Ever. Crying is a weakness. And she knows she needs to be strong for her family. She needs to be strong for her friends. 

And Ginny knows she needs to be strong for Harry, who is often as silent as the graves they’ve created recently. He goes off alone a lot, but she is always there when he comes back. Giving him her strength, if he needs it. 

It’s what she does, Ginny, - be strong. Be there for others. She takes their pain into herself and comforts. Holds their hands. Hugs them. She stays up late drinking Firewhiskey with George when everyone else has gone to sleep. She listens to Hermione talk about the time in the tent- hears the pain that is still too fresh that her friend does not mention. She works next to Ron doing the dishes (he washes, she dries) as he talks to their Mum, the both of them keeping Molly company in the early hours. She brings her father a hot cup of tea after a tough day at the Ministry, because all the days are tough now. Because their world is changing. And it is for the better, yes, but it is still a long and arduous undertaking. And no one wants to mess it up - this change for the better. No one wants to be caught lollygagging - not when so many have given their lives for a better Wizarding World. 

It is the dark-haired boy with the lightning-bolt shaped scar that has her utmost attention, though. Even though she does not hover, and she does not push. She doesn’t even speak if he doesn’t want her to because Ginny knows all too well how well-meaning people can be when all you really want is to be left alone. 

She does not want to add to Harry’s anguish. She thinks she’ll be able to tell when it is time to pull him out of it. She’s always been able to before, after all. Ginny doesn’t even think Harry notices her, to be honest, and it’s okay. She will stay here - waiting - stalwart in her desire to be there when he needs her. He saved their world - he saved her - and he deserves this time for himself if he needs it.

Many, many weeks after the final funeral, Ginny is sitting alone in the apple orchard behind their house. The sun is beating down on her fair skin and she can feel the sweat dripping downwards over her. Even her hair feels warm and wet at the back of her neck, but she does not move to the shade. She can’t. Ginny feels she has reached the end of her tether. She cannot take it anymore, this being strong for everyone but herself. And maybe it is stupid and silly for a redhead with freckles to sit in the warm summer sun but she doesn’t care anymore. It feels good in a way, the harsh warmth of it, the sunburn she will probably develop later. Maybe she will even relish the pain of it because at least…at least…the pain will remind her that she is alive. 

She is startled when he sits down next to her. She hadn’t heard him - hadn’t even smelled him - that warm, woodsy scent that Harry always has that makes her heart do loop-de-loops in her chest. He hands her a broom after she doesn’t say anything and she does look up at that, a question on her face, she is sure. Harry merely smiles at her and tilts his head. Does she want to? Oh, yes, Ginny realizes. She does.

And they fly and it is brilliant. They go long and they go fast and for the first time in a month, Ginny hears herself laugh and then Harry is laughing too, and God, it is beautiful! the sound of his laughter. And she knows it has been too long since either of them have experienced anything that could cause laughter and she feels as though this needs to be rectified from now on. If he’ll let her she’ll spend the rest of her days making him laugh.

When they land he winks at her, and squeezes her shoulder in reassurance. Ginny knows then that he has been paying attention. He has noticed her being strong and she feels a rush of emotion so raw that it almost makes her cry - but this time she doesn’t. Instead, she just smiles and takes Harry’s hand. And there is strength in his touch. Ginny finally understands that their strength comes from being together.

[wlntrsldler]

I Will Follow You Into the Dark (draco malfoy one shot)

requested by @i-mmunity​ : can you write something about where the reader and draco are dating and she watches the malfoy’s flee during the battle so she runs up and says something like “are you just gonna leave this all behind like nothing happened??” and it gets to a point where she starts dueling lucius and it ends up with him dead or something- idk something along the lines of that but.. i hope that made sense 😳😳

A/N: this took forever and i’m so so sorry!!!! but here it is. i’m terrible at battle scenes so i switched it up a bit i hope that’s okayy!!

WC: 1.4K+

WARNINGS: mentions of death, angst

you can read my draco x cedric fic here!

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

i will follow you into the dark (d.m one shot)

The silence spoke volumes. Everyone stood outside, hearts heavy as they watched Harry’s limp body frozen in Hagrid’s arms. The ghosts of those who left you were lingering in the castle, while the rest of you who managed to survive, tried to muster up the courage to keep going. They weren’t going to die in vain. 

You stared at George who looked ahead of him, eyes empty like there was no purpose anymore. And maybe to him, there wasn’t. He lost his other half, after all. You could still feel Fred’s presence, if you imagined it enough- his boisterous laughter and his never ending jokes. You could still hear Remus and Tonks telling you to be careful before you ventured out to the other side of the castle. You could still hear Colin Creevy’s piercing cry before he perished. He was too young, he didn’t deserve that. None of them did. 

As you took a look around the space, you saw Draco for the first time since everything happened. You were behind him, out of his line of vision. You watched as his eyes watered, presumably shaken up from all the deaths he watched happen in front of him. You wanted nothing else but to hold his hand to remind him that he will heal. You all will. But you knew you couldn’t. You couldn’t expose your relationship to everyone. He always told you, you had to be safe. 

“We have to hide this for the both of us,” he whispered as he absentmindedly drew shapes on the skin of your exposed hipbone as you laid in the dark of his dormitory. “I need to keep you safe.” 

You hid behind Luna, not wanting to make your presence known. Hermione caught your eye, a frightened smile tugging on her lips. She was fighting back the tears as she wrapped an arm around Ron who fell apart under her touch. He just lost his brother and now he watched as his best friend’s body sat lifeless in front of him. Then you saw Luna. It was the first time you saw sadness twinkle in her eye, almost as if she lost her optimism. You couldn’t really blame her, could you? It was staring right at you, defeat. 

“Draco,” a voice cut the tension. Your head snapped up at the name being called. You saw Lucius motion him over, a stern look on his face. Draco stayed frozen in his spot, not wanting to walk to his father. Good, you thought, stay, Draco. 

Before you could smile, another voice emerged- this time, lighter and higher. His mother. You gulped, knowing that Narcissa held a special place in Draco’s heart. Don’t do it, you pleaded in your head, hoping that he would somehow be able to hear you, don’t join them. 

“Draco,” she called again, her fingers calling him over. She looked afraid- terrified, even. “Please.”

Draco let out a breath, eyes darting from left to right, waiting for someone to give him a reason to stay. Nobody moved. A part of Draco knew nobody would save him. He’d been horrible to everyone at Hogwarts, he didn’t deserve anyone’s pity. In a way, he was to blame for everyone’s deaths. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to let tears slip when he saw Fred Weasley’s body on the concrete, unmoving. Fred Weasley, the boy whose pranks made him laugh at times, and who was too cool to give Draco the time of day because he knew he was better than Draco; not in an arrogant way but he knew he was kind, unlike Draco who relied solely on his family name. He knew he shouldn’t have waited so long to start walking towards his rightful place, beside his mother and his father, and behind the Dark Lord. 

But a boy could only hope. And hope he did- hoped that someone would somehow forgive him after years of brutality, hoped that someone wouldn’t hate him as much as they thought they did, hoped that they’d tell him there’s more to life than being bad. 

You felt your stomach churn when you saw the Dark Lord’s outstretched arms for Draco. Reluctantly, Draco neared his presence, not daring to return the formality. You couldn’t watch any longer. Quickly, you circled around Luna and ran in the middle of the situation. 

In a piercing cry you spoke, “Draco, stop.” 

He froze in his spot when he heard your voice. No, he thought, you’re not supposed to do this. Draco closed his eyes, a tear slipping out before he could catch it himself. His mother watched him fall apart in agony, knowing that now you, the girl her son loved with his entire being, was now going to be the target of everyone’s wrath. 

Draco turned around, giving you the coldest look he could give. He failed, however, the minute he saw your state. Blood running down from a wound on your temple, clothes torn up, and tears streaming down your face. He cleared his throat, “Y/N, go away. I’ve made my decision.”

“I refuse to believe that!” You yelled, trying to march closer but a hand stopped you. You turned around, annoyed at who was stopping you. 

Neville looked down at you sadly, bottom lip poking out. You furrowed your eyebrows up at the boy, confused as to why he was getting in between the conversation. He whispered, voice trembling, “We’ve lost enough people. We’re not going to lose you, too.” 

You gulped, placing a hand of comfort over Neville’s hand on you. He let go and watched as you returned your attention back to Draco. He now stood beside his parents, looking at you like he was breaking more and more every second, and honestly, he was. You didn’t dare to move closer, now vividly aware of the presence of the Dark Lord a few feet from you, and the hot breath of Bellatrix running down your spine. You asked, “Are you just gonna leave this all behind like nothing happened?”

“Y/N, please,” Draco pleaded, voice breaking. 

Voldemort rolled his eyes, motioning for Lucius to step up. He followed the Dark Lord’s order and left his family’s side. He spoke, “Lucius, I’m getting quite bored of this display. Take care of her for me, will you?”

“Father, please!” Draco begged, Narcissa having to hold him back from running up to his father. 

You raised your wand a second too late and you watched as Lucius spoke, “Expelliarmus!”

Then, everything happened all at once. Harry rolled out of Hagrid’s arms and you watched in shock, mirroring everyone’s expressions. 

“Potter!” Draco ran towards you, getting out of his mother’s grasp. He threw his wand to Harry on his way over to you. 

Draco laced his fingers with yours, grabbing you and running away with you by his side. He pulled you into his chest, feeling his beating heart against your cheek. He kissed the crown of your head, shaking uncontrollably as you sobbed in his chest. He murmured in your ear, “What was that? I told you not to do that.” 

“I couldn’t let you go with them, Draco,” you reasoned, pulling away from him to cradle his face in your hands. “I-I wasn’t going to lose you.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to lose you, either.” he sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His thumb ran over the wound on your temple, muttering a sorry when you hissed in pain. He kissed the wounded area, “You’re hurt.” 

“I am but I’m better now that you’re here.” 

He looked into your eyes, glistening with tears, “Don’t ever do that again. Don’t ever risk your life for me again.” 

“I can’t promise that,” you sighed. “For you, I’d do it a million times over.” 

Draco kissed you, not caring about the commotion behind him. His lips moved against yours so perfectly. Your tears mixed with one another’s as you were pressed up against each other’s skin. His arm snaked down to your waist to pull you closer, wanting to savor the last few moments he had with you before you went back out there. When you finally pulled away, a sad smile played on his lips. 

“I love you,” he breathed out. 

“I love you, too.” 

And with that, you both walked back out into battle, hand in hand. Draco looked at you, one last time, before you officially stepped out to fight for the right side, memorizing every curve, every stroke, and every line of your being, afraid that it’ll be the last time he would be able to.  

-

requests are open but i cannot promise that i’ll get them done as soon as you may want! also to the person who requested for shy!reader x draco, i lost the request so if you still want that, pls let me know!!!

i write for: 

draco malfoy

fred weasley

george weasley

oliver wood

cedric diggory

[huilian]

what messes with Oracle and didn’t survive?

AO3 Characters: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne

Summary: three little birds, one little bat, and a spoiler.

Dick grimaced. “Well, if the world’s going to end, I want us to be together. There’s at least a hope of safety there.”

It was a sweet thing to say, but it did not negate the fact that there were currently five vigilantes of Gotham trying to prank the two of them. Dick’s platitudes about facing them together is just that. Platitudes. Babs would abandon him in a heart beat if it meant getting out of their pranking ways.

A/N: who is the one that didn't know that this week is dickbabs week? this girl right here.so instead of seven fics, have this one that combines the prompt of day 6 (if the world's going to end, I want us to be together), and day 7 (we've come a long way).  Enjoy! 

***

“Dick!”

Babs has had it with cleaning up someone else’s messes. And she has most definitely had it with cleaning up Dick’s messes.

“What!”

He had the gal to act innocent. As if the evidence of the last mess was not still on Babs’ dining table.

“Control your little brothers!”

Dick came into the dining room with an innocent look in his face. Babs wanted to shout to him, but she also kinda wanted to kiss that stupid innocent face. She knew better than to think he’s truly innocent, though.

“What did they do, now?” Dick chuckled.

Babs did not stoop so low as to answer. She just gestured to her dining table. The sight of it should be answer enough.

“Come on, Babs. They’re just having fun.” Dick shrugged his shoulders. Easy for him to say, it’s not his dining table on the line.

“Glitters, Dick. Glitters,” Babs gritted out. “There’ll be glitters on my chair for months! Not to mention my dining table!”

“How do you know it’s one of my little brothers?” Dick asked.

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Worth a try.” Dick shrugged his shoulders. “But for real, how do you know it’s one of my little brothers? It could be Dinah.”

“Dinah will do a more subtle prank than this. Glitters, Dick. Glitters.”

Dick hummed. It’s infuriating. Why is he like this? Wait a moment…. Dick never acts innocent when he is truly innocent.

“Is this you? Are you pranking me right now?”

“What? No! I knew better than to prank you!”

“Good. Because if it’s you, you can kiss goodbye to the bed.” Dick had a sly look on his face that meant he’s going to say something about not needing the bed to have sex. “And to tech support. For a month.”

That shut him up pretty quickly. Dick could and would mess with Barbara Gordon, but Nightwing did not dare mess with Oracle. She is too valuable. Once upon a time it would have made Babs preen, but now it was just cold hard fact.

“It’s not me, Babs. From the look of the prank, it’s probably Jason.” Dick frowned. “Or Tim. Or maybe Damian.”

“I don’t care which one of your little brothers it is, it’s one of them. That makes this your mess. You clean it up.” Babs maneuvered her wheelchair out of the dining room. “There better be no glitters on my table after you’re done!”

“Babs, come on!”

“I’m going to order some food for breakfast. I expect the table to be clean when the food comes!”

“Oh, come on!” Dick shouted at Babs’ retreating chair. Babs didn’t care. She just kept rolling out.

Babs was going to kill Dick’s little brothers. It’s them. It had to be them. No one else has the guts to go against the all-mighty Oracle.

“Dick! I’m going to kill your brothers!” Babs would do it, too. She would. There was nothing Dick could say to keep her from killing his little brothers.

“You’ll get no objection from me, Babs! They put glue on the glitter! Glue! How the hell can I get it off the table?”

“It’s not just the table!” Babs shrieked. What did she do lately to deserve this? She had done nothing to deserve this. She was even playing nice with all the heroes and sometime-heroes who asked for her tech support.

“What? There’s another one of the glitter bombs?”

“Not one! Three!” Babs stopped, took another look, and said, “Scratch that. It’s four!”

“Four? I only have three little brothers, Babs.” Dick got out of the dining room to look at Babs. There was glitter on his hair, and on his clothes. There was glitter everywhere on him. “Do you think?”

“No,” Babs shook her head. “They wouldn’t dare.” They wouldn’t. Having one pranking them was bad enough, but to go against five of them? All five of them?

“There’s five glitter bombs, Babs. The numbers match.” Dick took a deep breath, and let it out. “It matches.”

“No.” Not Cass, surely not Cass. Steph, Babs could understand, but not Cass. Not to mention, could Damian even understand what a prank is?

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dick winced.

“They will level Gotham to the ground.” Visions of buildings in Gotham being levelled went through Babs’ head. “They’ll level the world to the ground.”

Dick grimaced. “Well, if the world’s going to end, I want us to be together. There’s at least a hope of safety there.”

It was a sweet thing to say, but it did not negate the fact that there were currently five vigilantes of Gotham trying to prank the two of them. Dick’s platitudes about facing them together is just that. Platitudes. Babs would abandon him in a heart beat if it meant getting out of their pranking ways.

“Bruce won’t let them!” It was one last futile hope that Babs had.

“Do you think they give a shit about what Bruce will let them do? Besides, Bruce is not here.”

“Alfred won’t let them!”

“Alfred is not here too, Babs. He’s with Bruce!” Dick said.

Babs let her head roll backwards and stared at the ceiling for a few moments. God, or someone up there, give her strength. “What did we do to deserve this?”

“Um… We proved them that we are capable of handling Gotham?”

“Ugh!” Babs raised her hands. “This is all your fault!”

“Hey! Some of it was your fault! You’ve been handling Gotham for longer than I have, Oracle.” Dick bent down so that he could look at Babs in the eye. It was not appreciated, and Babs made sure to tell him that by pushing him.  

“No, no that,” Babs said. “It’s your fault that there’s so many of them running around!”

“Me? I had nothing to do with that! It’s Bruce’s fault!”

“You’re the one who started it all!”

“Started what? Bruce adopting kids? Steph isn’t even his!”

“But the rest of them is!”

“You’re the one who ‘adopts’ Cass! And Steph! That’s two!”

“What about you? And don’t you dare say that you only have one! Tim won’t even care about Batman and Robin if he didn’t see you back then! Not to mention Duke is only here because of Robin, and who’s the first Robin, huh?”

“Hey, it’s Batman and Robin! It’s Bruce you should be blaming, not me!”

“Oh yeah? And who’s Batman now, Dick? Surprise, surprise, it’s you! You’ve been both Batman and Robin! It’s all your fault!”

“Wow.” A small voice made both Dick and Babs stop arguing and turn around. “I can’t believe you two haven’t even officially dated for a year, but you’re already arguing like an old married couple.”

It was Jason speaking. He seemed to be alone, but Babs would bet her computers that he was not alone. And he had another one of those damned glitter bombs in his hand. Where did they even get that many of them?

“Jay,” Dick began, “don’t.”

“Jason Peter Todd,” Babs said in the coldest voice she can muster, which is very cold indeed, “don’t you dare.”

“Sorry, Babs.” Jason shrugged. “Even if I don’t, there’s five more over there. I might as well draw first blood.”

“I will make your life hell, Jason. I will,” Babs warned.

“Eh, it’s already hell. This, however, is a taste of heaven.” And with that, Jason threw the first glitter bomb.

There was a war cry from the other side of the room, and five more glitter bombs joined Jason’s one. Giggles and laughter can be heard echoing throughout the room. Without even seeing them, Babs knew that it was Tim, Steph, Cass, and Damian. She couldn’t see them, anyway. There were so many glitters, that Babs couldn’t see anything.

Let them laugh, Babs thought, while holding her breath to keep from inhaling the avalanche of glitters. Babs was already devising vengeance.

Through all the giggles, Babs could hear Steph saying, “I cannot believe I just glitter bombed Oracle!”

After the glitters had dissipated somewhat, and Babs could see again, she saw Cass pulling in Steph close with a smile on her face, and it was so rare that she saw Cass smile so unguardedly that she almost wanted to smile too. Almost.

“You better believe it, Stephanie Brown, because you will be the one to clean this mess. And don’t you laugh, Cassandra, you’ll be cleaning them too,” Babs said in her Oracle voice, which has been said to be very different from her Barbara voice, or even, according to Dick, her Bargirl voice. Steph winced. Cass’ smile turned into a panicked expression. Babs liked her Oracle voice.

“I only joined because of peer pressure, Grayson. I do not wish to do this.”

Ah, Damian. It’s good that he can join in on pranks now-very different from the assassin child Babs had seen Dick took under his wings-but did it have to be glitters? And against them? Why can’t he play pranks against Colin? Or basically anybody but Babs.

“I thought I have talked to you about the dangers of peer pressure, Damian. Do we need to redo that conversation?” Dick’s tone suddenly turned mischievous, “And all the conversation after that?”

Damian’s eyes widen. “No, we do not need to redo that conversation, Grayson. We do not.”

Babs made eye contact with Dick, silently asking him what that hidden threat is. Dick did that head movement that always meant, ‘later’. Alright, then. Later. Now Babs can enjoy seeing Dick pester Damian.

“Then you can spend the time I had planned for the encore of that conversation helping to clean up Barbara’s apartment, can’t you?”

“Uhh.. I..”

“Go on, you can get a head start. Start with the dining table.” Dick inclined his head towards the dining room. Barbara can actually laugh seeing Damian’s shaken expression. It’s practically the same expression Dick used to have when Dad caught the two of them together. It had been hilarious then, and it was hilarious now. Especially on Damian’s face, which was normally so serious. He had come so far from that assassin child, hadn’t he?

Tim, never the one to turn away from a chance to insult Damian, laughed. It was not the right move to do. Dick zeroed in on him right away.

“What are you laughing at, Tim? You’ll be cleaning Babs’ apartment too. With Damian. And the girls.”

Damn. Babs knew that Dick can be scary when he wants to, but this was a whole new level. Tim gulped, and bravely tried, “You can’t tell me to do anything, Dick. I’m not Robin anymore.”

Ouch. That was a low blow. Striking there, of all places? Tim was always the one not to pull his punches. Babs flinched for Dick, because he didn’t. Flinched. Just said, “Oh really? Well, it’s up to you, of course, but if you don’t, then you’ll find Bart Allen being one photo richer. And to think of it, Conner Kent and Cassie Sandsmark too.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The two of them glared at each other for a few moments, and apparently, Dick won, because Tim said, “Fine! Come on, Demon Brat! We better get started.”

Dick smirked. Babs smiled too, because Tim being taken cared of, Babs had only one target left to roast. Jason. Who was in the middle of trying to open the window.

It was nice that Babs had internalized Bruce’s lectures about always being prepared, because she could control everything in her apartment from her wheelchair. Babs pressed the button that shut down the window, and said, “Where do you think you’re going, Jason?”

Jason’s jacket was trapped when Babs shut down the windows. Good. Babs had no wish to chase him down, or more likely, have Dick chase him down. It would only create more chaos.

“Um, out?”

“You know perfectly well that you’re not going out before this apartment is sparkling clean, Jason. I thought Alfred raised you better than that.”

Jason froze where he was. It was a satisfying sight, the fearsome Red Hood frozen to the spot with his jacket trapped in the windows.

“Don’t tell Alfred,” Jason said. “He’ll come to hunt me down.”

“And we can’t have that, can we? It’ll ruin your drug lord reputation to have a British butler come to hunt you down.” Babs smiled. “So, you better go and help Tim and Damian, then.”

Jason glared at Babs. Babs just continue smiling serenely. Jason never won against her when he was Robin, why should he start now? It does not matter that it had been years since he was Robin and Babs was the semi-retired Batgirl. He didn’t win then, and he wouldn’t win now.

True to form, Jason huffed, then started to pry his jacket from the windows. Not to get out, but so that he could go and help the others. “Leave the jacket, Jason,” Babs said. “It’ll keep.”

“Okay, okay, Babs. Jeez.”

“Tim and Damian are already at work on the dining table,” here Babs raised her voice so that Tim and Damian in the dining room could hear, “or I hope so!” They could hear muffled arguments, and _something _falling down. Oh well. There’s nothing there that’s not filled with glitter anyway. “So you’ll start here.”

Jason grumbled, but he did leave his jacket at the windows and went to find the broom. It should bother Babs that Jason knew exactly where to find the broom in Babs’ apartment, but it didn’t. They were a family that showed affection by stalking, after all.

So, Babs turned to the girls, who were trying to make themselves as small as possible. Maybe they thought that Babs would forget them if they just stood still. Unluckily for them, Babs didn’t forget anything.

“Why are you two just standing around? Go on, chop, chop.”

Steph made the best betrayed expression she could make, and Cass… Well, in anybody else but Cass, Babs would have sworn that it was a pout. But it was Cass, and so it was just… a pout that didn’t fully form. Thankfully, Babs just had to glare at them a bit before they joined Jason in getting the brooms and the vacuum cleaner. She would hate to have to bring out the big guns.

Babs could feel arms going around her, and she let it. She even leaned back a bit so that the arms could fully enclose her. “Let’s go clean up, and lock ourselves in the bedroom, shall we? It’s maybe the only place not tainted by glitter, now.” Babs could feel Dick’s laughter in her ear as he said that.

Dick’s suggestion was actually a very good one. Even though they had just woken up, Babs felt like she could sleep again for several more hours. It must be all the exertion of herding the kids. Having Dick hold her while she slept did not hurt either.

“Don’t you go and have sex while we’re still here, you two!” Jason shouted.

There was a sound from the dining room that can only be Tim’s yelp, and then, “What? You two! Damian’s only eleven!”

“I am perfectly aware of the nuances of human reproduction, Drake!”

“No, you’re not! You’ve never seen Bruce had a go with Selina, have you? You know nothing about human reproduction!”

“Oh, are we talking about Bruce’s adventures with Catwoman? ‘Cause if we do, I need therapy from that time they did it like, a few feet next to me.”

“Oh, shut up, Steph! You’re only Robin for what? A few weeks? You can’t even begin to imagine all the therapy I would need! They did it in front of me, like, all the time!”

Dick gave Babs a look that conveyed all the annoyance and affection for the five little delinquents they had in her apartment, and then he lifted her up and carried her to the bathroom. He was laughing all the way there. Babs couldn’t help but to laugh along with him.

Later, in Babs’ bedroom, after all the glitters on their body were gone and the door to the bedroom firmly shut, Dick said, “Wow. Look how far we’ve come, Babs.”

“Huh?” Babs was lying down with her head on Dick’s chest, and it felt very nice. It felt so nice that Babs could barely think of anything else.

“We used to be the one doing the gagging! And now we’re the ones being gagged about!” Dick said, with a very large smile on his face.

“And you’re proud of that?” Babs asked.

“Well, I can list a few things we can be proud about instead, but then you’ll call me sappy.” Dick’s arms sneaked to her, and then he started playing with her hair.

“You are sappy, Dick Grayson,” Babs said, closing her eyes.

“No arguments there, Babs. No arguments there.”

ps. apparently I'm the kind of person who won't write when they have a lot of time to do so, but when they don't have the time, they write. hence, two fics in a short ammount of time i'm in an unpaid internship, but not a single fic during the weeks and weeks of holiday......

[hollowbastionsurvivor]

Episode 4 - "The show must go on" ~Kevin

Mutiny: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630277130686742528/announcement

Mutiny Results: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630281668546134016/announcement-mutiny-results

Tribal Immunity: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630281797053415424/tribal-immunity-4

Ellie mutinies to Heartless. Everyone is shocked as they saw her in a really good position on the tribe

Jessica mutinies to Heartless because she knows that she is next on the chopping block

Colin mutinies to Nobody to cause chaos. Ellie tells him to side with Kim, and he tells her and Dylan to protect Christina

i'm sad colin left. but the show must go on 

*All speculative prose (I do not know anything 🙃)* So I feel bad. I think Colin may have gone because Colin thought I was. The problem is he did not talk to me beforehand?!? Like Colin and were talking about it and then COVID and then the edit logic... And I was busy talking to people and the new tribe members. I hope I did not screw over Colin after hearing how it is over there. At least here *every* one is faking it. ...and he was gone. Not sure Colin will be happier there, but hope so. 

~~~~~

Ellie forms a bond with Emma and wants to work with her despite her messiness

Pretty confident, I screwed over Colin. I apologize to Colin and to what I may have done to his game. I will feel guilty about this for a long time. Even if I am wrong, I still feel like I missed something with it being so crazy. Regrettably, Emma

I can’t find an idol to save my life now lmao nor can I figure out how to stop failing a part of it 😭 We won the immunity challenge AGAIN! I’m really proud of the tribe for this one because it was such a pain in the ass 😂 There was also an opportunity to mutiny and Colin took it! The chaos pull was strong for him lol. I really almost went too, but I heard negative things about the guys on nobody tribe soooo that’s a no from me. Heartless Tribe gained two people, which gives me another shot at building bonds. This immunity challenge we’re doing now is really fun tbh. We have to complete units of Japanese on Duolingo! I think we can win this one. If we don’t, there are a lot of people to choose from 🖤

~~~~~

Emma gets really paranoid about all the people who are talking

Fairly sure Dylan is holding the tribe in this challenge, but think Jessica will do a lot today. Weary of new people, of course, lol. They both are new to the tribe, and Ellie is super chill. We can talk about anything, so glad for her! Amy and I should have just done it. I do not think that this majority/minority wants to go tribal, and then the others do. So I am prepared for tribal. And I am staying silent to everyone else. The people playing in this are supposed to be my allies. I want this to be true. I wish I did not speculate as much as I do.

Lord please keep me from losing my shit on Emma. She is legit the messiest person alive and I cannot wait to vote her out. She consistently sends the wrong people the wrong chats and then wildly tries to pretend the messages are meant for them. She’s always in everyone’s business about challenges and idols and freaking out if people don’t talk for a few minutes. I will say this. If it goes to tribal, this vote goes to Emma because I can’t deal with her stress anymore. 

こんにちは !! Liking this new tribe. I wish Kim switched over. Things are going well I think. Need to talk to more people and find out the scoop of everything. Things seem calm? Probably because they haven’t voted anyone out. Hopefully we win the challenge because I’ve been learning Japanese all day and this girl is tired. 

~~~~~

Results: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630371332666867712/duolingo-results

WOOOOO WE WON. I have to admit it does feel good to win. And why yes raffy, I will enjoy my night off. 

Yay Kevin! Yay our whole Heartless Tribe! Just, yay!

~~~~~

Christina and Kevin did amazing! Super proud of them because I know they both worked hard/love languages. This Immunity Challenge solidified (maybe) some stuff with Kevin and Christina being in this for the tribe. I am just going to try and be cautious. This will likely fail. 😆 Ellie's amazing addition. I think, overall, we are relieved. Party!!! 🥳😴😎🙃

~~~~~

Emma believes Amy is lying to her about something, calls out people in the tribe chat, and gets increasingly frustrated by people not answering her within 5 minutes.

https://youtu.be/EnKi5uFqj3g

Seriously hope Dylan/Kevin sent Colin over as a "spy" (since they have played together). I do think if I was faster as processing things that I would have made two different decisions, regardless of Colin's intentions. 1. Would have messaged closest allies and said I was going for sure. 2. Would have messaged Hosts I was going.

https://youtu.be/SrWYjWZmhiM

Friday was so crazy! I'm still in shock over Colin switching tribes, that was so unexpected. I really liked getting to know him. Also I don't really like the new People. Ellie seems sweet but she really is too sweet, it's almost ingenuine. Jessica just seems rude. I mean she waited until 2 days after switching to this tribe to talk to me. I had to talk to her. Like, who does that? Especially after mutineeing from a tribe. You should be on high alert. Jessica is a no bueno for now, but we'll see.

~~~~~

Ellie wants to work with Emma as they bonded over their similar chaos energy. She realizes that a lot of people are after Emma due to her messiness in general

Missing kin hours :(( Still I really like my new tribe!! Everyone is nice and I don’t think I’d be the target, rn it seems like Emma has a target on her back which kinda sucks cause I like her a lot but it’s better than me!

~~~~~

Emma leaves even more alliance chats that she created on a whim.

~~~~~

Tribal Council: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630458005478129664/tribal-council-3-nobody-tribe

~~~~~

Mutiny: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630277130686742528/announcement

Mutiny Results: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630281668546134016/announcement-mutiny-results

Tribal Immunity: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630281797053415424/tribal-immunity-4

Ellie mutinies to Heartless. Everyone is shocked as they saw her in a really good position on the tribe

Jessica mutinies to Heartless because she knows that she is next on the chopping block

Colin mutinies to Nobody to cause chaos. Ellie tells him to side with Kim, and he tells her and Dylan to protect Christina

A mutiny. OF COURSE ITS A MUTINY! I'll absolutely say i wasn't expecting it but those were some bold decisions. Ellie i wasn't entirely surprised by HOWEVER Jessica mutinies and my heart skips a beat. It was ths game move she needed to make 100% because even if i potentially wanted to keep her , i wasn't going to a tiebreaker for her . Someone mutinied feom the heartless tribe and i wonder if they felt on the outs of they're just here to infiltrate. Who knows

Not surprised at the outcome at tribal tonight. I really did like John and enjoyed chatting with him, but for the sake of safety in numbers, he had to go. What I’m surprised is that Ellie jumped ship! Not so much Jessica, but Ellie has a good thing going for us. We will see how things pan out now that we’re divided 4-8!

~~~~~

Colin goes to work socializing with a new group. It’s going to be tough since those 3 are tight. He needs to crack a wall somewhere

Results: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630371332666867712/duolingo-results

I honestly feel responsible again for losing the challange!!! A 2??!?!?! Here I thought we were gonna average something much lower. But honestly, I didn't have much time to work on it as I spent the majority of the day at work. I think at this point our allience will vote together and unfortunately Colin will be the casualty. He shouldn't have mutinied...

Look i get that is part of this whole process but DAMN . Why does my tribe have to attend all the tribals. It's kind of demoralising tbh . 

~~~~~

Colin wanted to target Jordan, but has switched to Daniel. Kim wants to flip, but doesn't want it to tie. Jordan wants to flip on Kim since they have two rewards. The spice is going to be flavorful

OKAY so I need to walk you guys through my decision to mutiny. because on surface level it seems really dumb. I'm here to explain to you why its ALSO dumb on the deeper level. i'm a messy ass bitch. I have played DOZENS of these games and I've never taken a mutiny before, so honestly this was mostly about new horizons and trying new things! BUT ALSO. Ellie mutinied. and I NEED to be able to play my game without Ellie. I had good connections on my og tribe with Christina, Kevin, Dylan, and Amy. I hope that distance will make the heart grow fonder and they will realize how much they actually wanna work with me when I'm not there!! I gave them sufficient warning and tried to smooth things over so it wouldn't be awkward when we are reunited. My ultimate plan is to just survive until merge and then make a powerhouse trio of me, Christina, and Dylan. Dylan and I can be strategic masterminds, while Christina and I can also help maneuver us socially. After coming onto the Nobody tribe, I'm honestly not impressed. Kim seems okay but a lil dry, Jordan is barely around and also a lil dry, and Daniel is actually really fun to talk to, but doesn't seem invested game wise. I think i need to get Jordan out by painting him as a challenge threat. I think I'll try to make an alliance of Kim and Daniel. I really just need them to protect me. Losing this challenge SUCKS. I kinda wish Christina and Dylan had thrown for me. but I didn't expect them to and I'm not surprised they didn't. I think my name is absolutely on the chopping block because everyone else seems comfortable, but I fully intend to put in WORK to make sure I stay. if I can make it past this, this will be a huge talking point on my resume for FTC. I'm starting early. Wish me luck!! xoxo. 

~~~~~

Everyone is targeting each other and it’s about to be a big ol mess

I know it should be a no brain-er to who's going home tomorrow but i honestly do see the value of keeping Colin . We've bonded and i honestly do think he can be an ally for me moving into a merge. But it would require someone else to pull off because i don't want to piss off either Daniel or Jordan or potentially both if i vote against them

~~~~~

Colin attempts to talk with people about the vote, but no one responds back to him. Things are looking bleak as Kim as voted early for Colin. “I was talking to Kim this morning and basically all he said was he didn't think jordan and daniel would vote for each other. I hope Kim will at least let me do firemaking”

Colin shifts gears and tries to get Jordan to flip on Kim. However, Jordan is too scared to talk to Daniel about it, fearing it might ruin their relationship. So, he seemingly backs out on it. Colin grows increasingly frustrated with the fake back and forth. He doesn’t view Daniel as playing his own game as Daniel seems to do whatever Jordan wants him to do

Lost one of my core members to a mutiny, now lost the challenge. Our tribe has 4 members, two of which I believe to be close allies, one being the new member who mutinied from the other tribe, and of course myself. Kim, one of my allies, has been winning rewards throughout the game which scare me a bit. I’ve been getting along with our new member pretty well and it’s made me consider trying to find a way to vote out Kim so we can keep Colin around and just get rid of those rewards. I don’t think Dan would trust me anymore if I threw out an idea like this though so I don’t know if there’s a way to make it happen. However, I think I’m still leaning towards voting out the new member and at least trying to stay three strong. We will see if I feel the same tomorow.

im so sad. why did i take the mutiny. I'm really about to get voted out bc no one is even TALKING to ME all three of my new tribemates have expressed interest in keeping me and said that we had vibed really well. but now here I am, 4 hours before tribal, with absolutely nothing. No one talking to me. No names thrown out. They're going with the easy vote. I don't understand why. I can protect them going into merge!! they're going to be at such a numbers disadvantage, and I can be a bridge to the OG heartless tribe if I make it. But they don't wanna give me that chance. I'm so frustrated. 

I’ve really been trying to find a way to keep Colin but I just don’t think it’s gonna be worth it for me to risk my current friendships. I’m too nervous to even consider mentioning the option to either of them for fear they will just blow me off entirely after that. I do think I would have more fun if I kept Colin around, but it may be short lived. A blindside would be super spicy right now but we will see...

~~~~~

Tribal Council: https://hollowbastionsurvivor.tumblr.com/post/630458005478129664/tribal-council-3-nobody-tribe

~~~~~

Edgic:

[chris-sales-belly-ring]

Russ/Colin: Protester And Police Officer AU

I saw ‘protester and police officer AU’ on this post and it immediately made me think of Russ and Colin.

And I’m struggling to write right now, so I thought that I’d attempt to write a little ficlet.

I may eventually post this on AO3, but I’m not sure yet.

@blastellanos.

Russell knows of Colin Kaepernick, but he has never met him. The guys at the station hate him because he’s a known black activist who often protests police brutality. All the officers and detectives practically get a hard-on when they find out that a brawl has broken out outside of Colin’s fraternity house. Russ is really good at de-escalating situations, so he volunteers to take the call with his partner Doug. There are a few laughs and even some derisive comments that get made about Russell being too soft to get the job done. He reminds his fellow officers that the job at hand is to make sure that Colin (who has no history of violence) is alive at the end of their confrontation.

“Wow. I didn’t know that you could clapback like that, Russ,” Doug says when they’re in the squad car.

“I just get sick of them messing with me because my first instinct when I see a black person isn’t to shoot them,” Russell explains.

Doug nods. “I hear you. Sometimes I think they forget that we’re black. And that we know what racial profiling and racial discrimination feel like.”

“They don’t forget. They just think that being a cop is more important to us than our race,” Russ corrects him.

Most of the crowd outside the fraternity house has cleared out by the time that Russell and Doug and get there. Russ knows what Colin looks like from taking quick glances at pictures and from interview snippets on TV. He’s so much more stunning in person and it catches Russell off guard. Colin is dressed in tight black jeans with a black hoodie. His afro is perfectly picked and his beautiful brown skin is glistening from the sunlight. Russ isn’t sure that he has ever seen a more gorgeous man. His thoughts get interrupted when he hears Doug start talking.

“I’m Officer Baldwin and this is Officer Wilson,” Doug introduces.

Colin smirks. “They thought that it would be cute to send the black cops this time, huh?”

“You don’t want any trouble and neither do we. I’m just here to ask you what happened,” Doug tells him.

“My fraternity brother Michael honestly saw more than I did. I think he witnessed the first punch that got thrown,” Colin remarks.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him. But I still want to get a statement from you,” Doug insists.

Colin points at Russell. “I want him to take my statement.”

“Ok. Could you point me in the direction of Michael then?” Doug nicely asks.

“He’s the big guy over there who’s picking up the trash,” Colin mentions.

“Thanks,” Doug comments as he walks away.

“So, you and your fraternity brothers were peacefully protesting the death of Ricardo Lockette—”

Colin interrupts him. “We were protesting his murder that was at the hands of two racist ass cops.”

“Right. And everything was going well until the counter protesters showed up?” Russ checks.

“Yes. They came in large groups and they had more than just yelling on their minds,” Colin says.

Russell continues attentively listening to Colin’s story and writing down his statement. He tries to keep his eyes on his note pad because Colin’s pretty brown eyes are such a distraction. Russ is standing close enough that he can smell his cologne and it’s making it hard for him to concentrate. His fingers that are tightly wrapped around his pencil are shaking a little bit as he finishes writing and Colin notices.

“Are you new, Officer Wilson? Because you seem nervous,” Colin points out.

Russell blushes. “I’m not that new.”

“But you are nervous though. Why?” Colin wants to know.

“Uh . . . well, there’s no reason r-really,” Russ stutters.

Colin grins. “That’s either a gun in your pants pocket or you’re just really excited to see me.”

Russell has never been more excited to see Doug approaching him than he is right now. He quickly waves goodbye to Colin as he and Doug walk back to their car. Russ has to roll his window down just a little bit because he’s feeling flushed and overheated. Popping a boner in front of Colin like that was extremely embarrassing and Russell isn’t sure that he’ll ever get over it. He hasn’t gotten laid since he switched partners a few months ago. He clearly needs to fix that so that he’s not getting hard in front of suspects.

“You want to go out after we’re done tonight?” Russ asks.

Doug looks surprised. “Since when do you go out?”

“Since now. I’m not normally the hook up type, but I am desperate for one. I haven’t been with anyone since Aaron got transferred,” Russell explains.

“Shit, it’s been that long?” Doug questions.

“Yeah. It’s sad, I know. So I need a night out,” Russ insists.

Russell showers and then he changes into a navy blue V-neck t-shirt and gray ripped jeans. His hair is already moisturized, so he’s ready to go. Since he plans on bringing a guy back to his place, he and Doug are taking separate cars to the club. He’s punctual almost to a fault, so of course he beats Doug there. Russ isn’t much of a drinker, but he thinks that he could use a beer to help him relax some. The line around the bar is so long that it’s almost bleeding over onto the dance floor. There’s pushing, shoving, and just overall chaos. This is part of the reason that Russell doesn’t like going out that often. He turns around when he hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Is that you, Officer Wilson?” Colin asks.

“You can call me Russell,” Russ lets him know.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without the handcuffs and the erection,” Colin whispers into his ear.

Russell bites his lip. “I have some cuffs in my car and some back at my apartment.”

“Is that an invitation?” Colin wonders.

Russ doesn’t get a chance to answer him because suddenly Doug is by his side. He grabs Russell by his arm and he pulls him away from the crowded bar area. Doug doesn’t let go until he finds an empty table that’s somewhat secluded. Despite the fact that he’s only two months older than Russ, Doug still views him like a little brother. He feels that it’s his responsibility to protect his friend and partner, even if it’s from himself.

“Dude, you absolutely cannot fuck Colin!” Doug exclaims.

Russell narrows his eyes. “Why not? Because of the ongoing investigation that I’m no longer apart of?”

“There’s the small fact that you’re a fucking cop and he hates cops. Also, the guys at the station would make your life a living hell if they found out about it,” Doug explains.

“I’m not talking about marrying the guy. I just want to have fun with him for one night,” Russ argues.

“It’s still a terrible idea,” Doug reiterates.

Russell and Colin don’t even make it to his bedroom. They stumble over to his couch while still kissing. Russ pushes Colin down and then he climbs into his lap. He slips his hand underneath Colin’s thin t-shirt as he deepens the kiss. Colin tilts his head back and Russell immediately moves his lips to his neck. He moans and his eyes roll into the back of his head. Russ pops the top on his jeans and he unzips Colin’s zipper. He’s getting ready to pull his boxers down when suddenly both of their phones vibrate. Colin receives a text and Russell is getting a call. He excuses himself and he walks into his kitchen to answer the call.

“I gotta go. There was another shooting and—”

Colin sighs. “Yeah, I know. Michael texted me because the guy who got shot is his brother.”

“I’m so sorry—” Russ starts.

“You can take you fake sympathy and shove it!” Colin snaps.

“I’m sincerely sorry about what happened to your friend’s brother,” Russell earnestly remarks.

“It doesn’t matter though. Because it’s your job to back your fellow officers, even when they’re wrong,” Colin argues.

“That’s not true! At least for me, it isn’t. The guys that I work with absolutely hate you and I don’t trust them. I volunteered to go to your frat house because I knew that you and your brothers would be safe with me and my partner,” Russ reveals.

“Oh,” Colin says in a surprised tone.

“I drove you here, so let me take you to where you need to be right now,” Russell offers.

“But I thought that you had to go?” Colin mentions.

“I’ll get there when I get there,” Russ replies.

“I’ll be praying for all of you,” Russell says as he drops Colin off at the hospital.

“Thanks. I really wish that you could come in with me,” Colin states.

“I have a feeling that I wouldn’t be exactly welcome,” Russ half-jokes.

Colin laughs. “Probably not at first. But I’m confident that you could win them over.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I can to check in,” Russell promises.

“Kiss goodbye?” Colin requests.

Russ gives him a chaste kiss. “I’ll see you later, Colin.”

Russell can practically imagine Doug’s voice in the back of his head reprimanding him, but he ignores it. He knows that his world and Colin’s world are kind of contradictory, but he doesn’t care. Russ feels inexplicably drawn to him and he knows that the feeling is mutual. It’s not going to be an easy thing to navigate at all, but he at least wants to give it a try. There’s a chance that things with Colin could end in disaster. But there’s also a chance that it could be amazing and that little sliver of hope is enough for Russell right now.

[connorsaturday]

Because We’re All Probably Getting Nuked Soon:

[October 13th, 2017]

      Alright. Nice time is over. There’s no room here for reserved behavior. If you give the slightest shit about our once great country, then read:

      I swear to God I'm the only person who is angry with the government and our president and our country right now. Oh, am I wrong? Then why the fuck does it feel like I am the only one actually saying something among the people in my twitter feed?

      Political wars aren't won by objective truth and accuracy anymore, they're won by being the loudest and most aggressive. Simply believing in the right thing isn't enough. Fucking do something about it. Say something, protest something, do something. Anything. Even a goddamn retweet is way better than sitting idly by and acting like someone else is going to come along fix the mess we're all in. Act on your values and do your part to fight for what's right and make some ACTUAL change. Or just sit back and watch our country continue to fall apart, continue to be invaded by Russians on the internet, continue to watch the very threads the American flag that are supposed to unify us unravel and fall apart.

      I don't like to judge people, but here's an exception: you are a son of a bitch if your biggest concern right now is the national anthem controversy. That's what you're worried about? Entertain me for a sec and remember this: FIVE HUNDRED PEOPLE were GUNNED DOWN in fear, panic, and terror last week. They're dead. The hundreds of families affected are in pain that most of you could NEVER imagine. In Puerto Rico, people are suffering, cold, homeless, and starving right now. People, in a part of our country, have lost EVERYTHING. They have nothing left. No house, no belongings, nothing.

      And some of you are still hung up on Colin Kaepernick, and the "awful" and "disrespectful" things he's done? Really?

      You say I disrespect the military by sitting down for the anthem? Yeah? Why is that? Have you ever stopped to think that there is NOTHING stating that the two are connected AT ALL. The only reason this belief persists is because we pass it on. That's actually it. The anthem and flag stand for more than the soldiers I respect and love. The flag and anthem (even the third, racist verse of it) stands for the racial, religious, sexual equality and freedom that America represents... or at least it used to.

      Tell me that Eric Garner should've been reciting every last word, instead of saying “I can’t breathe” when he was being choked to death in the street by a police officer. Tell me.

      Tell me. Really, go ahead and tell me that Philando Castile should've stood up for the great National Anthem as he was bleeding out from being wrongfully shot by a cop in front of his fucking wife and kids. Tell me. I wish you would.

      Tell. Me. Tell me that the black soldiers should put their hand over their heart when they come back from active duty to find out that they protected people who are metaphorically spitting racial oppression in their face and figuratively beating them with the whip of racism. Tell me- no, tell THEM that they should stand up for the flag of a country that cannot, and will not stand up for them.

      When will those of you who side with Trump on this issue understand that sitting for the national anthem is NOT disrespecting the military?

      Do you want to know what disrespecting the military is? It’s ignoring and denying the benefits and help that millions of war vets in our country desperately need, like our president, Donald Trump has. I don't have to stand for a goddamn flag to love and respect the people who allow me to have that very right in the first place. How else am I supposed to actively show support for the military, you ask? Why do I have to actively show support at all? I support women's right to vote, you don't see me getting down on my hands and knees and bowing every time a woman walks by.

      Donald Trump: we have all of these actually awful and frightening tragedies and problems facing our country right now. And you'd rather focus all your energy putting down minority NFL players for trying to call attention to the immense racial oppression that takes place in our country every day? Fuck that. And on behalf of the good that once presided in this nation, fuck you, Donald Trump. This is no longer the land of the free because of you. This is no longer the nation I was born and raised in because of you. I don’t feel safe in this country anymore because of you. I don’t even fucking recognize this country anymore because of you. Donald Trump, YOU made me lose the love I once had for this country. So long as you are in power, we are not America. You are the least American person I have ever seen, and you are a fucking disgrace to the founding fathers, you disgusting tyrant. You have embarrassed this country on a global scale one too many times, and I've given up all hope of you being able to keep yourself pissing all over the flag you hold so fucking dear, and shitting into the mouths of the people you "represent", “protect”, and “serve”, you fascist, racist, homophobic, Islamophobic, anti-humanitarian, ignorant, cheating, untrustworthy, lying, fucking moron.

       Oh, and credit to Rex Tillerson, your Secretary of State, for the “fucking moron” line – that was a good one, Rex. Your cronyism couldn’t stop even your closest officials from seeing through the wool you pulled over America’s eyes.

[hencethebravery]

Colin O’Donoghue spoke out loud in front of people about kissing Josh Dallas because he’s got nice lips. I literally can’t get over it, so here’s an AU about sneaking into someone’s house so you can kiss them on the mouth without inciting unnecessary drama. For the #CCsquad. @the-reason-to-sail-home @abbadons-little-witch @mahstatins

+ Honestly, it’s just as well he avoid the conversation altogether. It’s not as if he’d call his brother especially conservative per say, he just... knows Liam Jones. Knows that the man is physically incapable of keeping his opinions to himself—particularly those that might involve his younger brother—and he knows his own mind, how his thoughts tend to go maddeningly on, and he’d just prefer to avoid the inevitably wasted week that would follow. A week of waking up at the literal arse-crack of bloody dawn to avoid running into him. A week of vague text messages and convincing Robin to revise the duty roster. His own brother. The man who raised him, bathed him, fed him, changed his nappies.

Killian Jones, Lieutenant Killian Jones, a servant in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, sneaking his... friend in through the bloody window like they’re misbehaving school boys.

“I have clearance to sail on a vessel with nuclear weapons on it.”

David chuckles, his bicep resting behind Killian’s neck like a lumpy pillow, “Yes, so you’ve said.”

“Point being, I’ve got the ability to press a button and blow up the planet, yet I seem to be physically incapable of showing you through the door like a normal person.”

“I’ve walked through your door,” he sighs as he pushes Killian’s damp hair off his forehead, “Also, I’m pretty sure arming a nuclear weapon isn’t that easy.”

He plants a kiss on his forehead and Killian wants to die. Just a little bit.

“Go to sleep, Jones.”

“Trust me,” he answers softly, his voice heavy with sleep, “it is.”

When he wakes up the next morning he’s alone, the blankets tucked underneath his chin and he tosses them over his head in shame. What an unbelievable prick he is.

The first night he’d tugged David’s unreasonably broad shoulders through his bedroom window was the same night Liam had started bugging him about meeting a girl.

“You’ve brought them home before,” he had stated reasonably, friendly enough, not even pressing, just politely inquiring, “I just wanted to make sure nothing’s the matter.”

“All’s well, brother,” Killian answered with a gentle smile, “I assure you.”

They’re both in their mid-20s so it is, admittedly, a bit juvenile, but David, bless his oversized heart, insists that there’s something romantic about the whole thing. Something about it being just the two of them, feeling like he’s in high school again and your heart’s beating fast because yes, maybe you’re somewhere you ought not to be, but it’s also beating because someone is looking at you like that and it’s everything.

“Your shoulders barely fit through the window, love.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Shockingly enough, Killian Jones has a reputation for being a bit rough-and-tumble. Liam, being Captain as he is, can’t officially condone it, but he has to admit, it’s gotten them out of some close-calls in the past—gotten the men to sit down and shut up when they need to. You wouldn’t think it, what with the rather slim shoulders and clean shaven face, but it’s the eyes (that’s what Dave says, anyway), it was the eyes that gave it away.

“And when you forget to shave,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to cradle his jaw, “goosebumps.”

It was a bit hard growing up, without parents, raised by an over-achieving brother pushing you to do well, but you, know-it-all teenager that you are, being unable to get your head out of your arse long enough to understand that he just wants what’s best for you. Pressing your lips to a woman’s neck and feeling utterly alive, seeing Graham Humbert’s hands tugging at your belt and feeling the exact same thing. Sipping cheap, garbage rum on the roof of your shitty apartment building and wondering what the fuck it all means.

Using your fists to make a point since no one cares what you have to say anyway, since all you’ve ever done is push people away or they leave you behind and it had just been easier that way, hadn’t it?

When Dave had seen that old picture of him on Facebook, that Liam had posted, of course—that everyone had laughed and jeered at, because look at him, Lieutenant Jones, dressed all in leather, his hair grown sloppy over his face, and is that a hand-rolled cigarette in your mouth, mate? His back pressed up against that brick wall as if he were keeping something back, and of course, David Nolan didn’t laugh.

They hadn’t even kissed, not yet. A handshake that feels a bit too firm sometimes, a heavy hand on the shoulder, a longing glance across the room, but that had been all. Killian couldn’t be sure, and he hadn’t wanted to risk losing him, he had been too good a friend for that, and Dave had just stared at the photo, and stared back at him, and Killian had fought that heated blush with all he had.

“You’ve changed so much,” he finally said, his voice proud and warm, “must’ve been hard.”

Killian’s voice, the deep, older voice of a grown man, cracking just enough, “Yeah,” he answered, “Yeah, it was.”

The pull-out is too small for the two of them.

“It’s fine,” David’s breath against his neck, large hands down by his waist, “it’s big enough.”

And this ex-junkie, ex-delinquent with the dirty hair and the leather jacket and the sodding flask all out of breath and trying to get a word in edgewise insisting that he’s a grown man and he really needs his own place.

“I don’t know,” rising up on his elbows, his grinning face staring down at a flushed, rumpled Lieutenant, “it’s kind of fun.”

David looks like a golden retriever puppy when he’s excited, and the furious teenager that stays hidden away under years of formal navy training cannot believe that Killian “Hook” Jones would sink so low as to associate with such an absolute sap.

He catches David’s own disproportionately slim hips between his thighs and manages to execute a surprisingly smooth flip, his own hands coming up to catch his wrists before he can interfere, “Must you be so infuriatingly optimistic?”

“I must,” answering with a smile, “it’s all 80s grunge and David Lynch movies in there,” gesturing towards Killian’s chest with his head, “the least I can do is appreciate the couch.”

“I’ve had this couch since Liam dragged it in off the street when we were kids,” their lips hovering teasingly against one another’s, barely a space of breath between them, “I’d watch for lice if I were you.”

Laughing and wrestling and falling off the old couch that is too small for them and David Nolan really doesn’t deserve the bedroom window.

“How do that man’s shoulders even fit through that window?”

Killian whips his head back around to his brother leaning up against the kitchen counter, watching their friends loudly yelling at the television, spilling beer all over the carpet that he had just cleaned for Christ’s sake.

“What did you just say?”

“I imagine it’s sort of amusing, actually. Shoulders like that. Small window. Like Marilyn Monroe in that film, the one with the singing?”

“Sure, that narrows it down, brother.”

He’s still trying to figure out if he can escape the minefield of this conversation, glancing over at the den trying to catch David’s eyes but the man is totally enamored by the game, and he would appear to be adrift in a sea of overprotective, vaguely patronizing concern.

“He would probably feel much more comfortable walking through our human-sized door, wouldn’t you say?”

Killian pauses, his fingers nervously picking at the wet label of his beer, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that comes with actually breaking a sweat.

“...I suppose.”

“Let him use the door, Killian,” Liam says finally, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners, “and buy a bloody bed.”

[je-suis-clarisse]

Siring.

31 OCTOBER || 1ST NOVEMBER 1791 The pain....the blood...the crisp white sheets were taken off of the small bed and thrown into the fireplace, ruined by the blood that had come from a failed childbirth. The bleeding finally having stopped, new sheets placed upon the bed and a crisp and clean nightgown put on me, I lay there, with an infant in my arms. It did little good as I could feel blood seeping from me still; there must have been a tear or some internal problem, for there was no clotting. I was going to bleed to death. This was a fact that I was facing with carelessness. I cared not a whit if I lived. I had no reason to. My reason for living was in my arms, lifeless. As with all things, I had failed at my endeavor to become a mother. Silent, hot tears rolled down my cheeks; I had learned quickly in this marriage that weeping and crying out did me no good; it only earned scorn and hatred, laughter, bitter laughter that rang in my ears. I knew he was likely pacing outside the door. I knew my husband. I knew I had married the wrong man. I should have pursued that kind man at the party that day. Had that party really been three years ago? I was just about to turn sixteen; just a few months from it. A rose, coming into bloom, my brother had told me. Now, the rose was withered. Dying. My eyes dropped from the door; I knew he would soon come in, barging in and screeching at me. Common sense and previous experience told me this. I was an old pro by now. Cruel words, hateful ones, even. Then would come the beating. At least if he beat me this time, he would hasten my departure. I almost welcomed the idea. Besides, I might feel something other than this numbness. Instead, I focused on my son. My sweet little boy, whom I would soon join in the next world. The midwife had handed me my rosary; a gift from my brother in Rome. What I wouldn't give to have him here. Or my friend, Monsieur Caldwell. But no, it was only my son and I in the room. Our lone few minutes together. His small hands, hands that should have been moving were still. His eyes were shut and instead of screams and cries, there was only silence from him. His body twitched from nerves that were not yet dead and his face was blue. For nine months, I had carried this child. I had grown to love him. He was mine. Mine. He was the first person in the world who could I truly call my own. My blood was within him. Features that were mine would be his. My heart belonged to this little boy. Liam Frederick Christopher O'Callaghan. Christopher for my father, of course. Liam was just a name that Colin had picked when I had bravely broached the subject with him months before. I had been shocked when he mentioned 'Frederick' and 'Christopher'. My dear brother and my father. "Strong names," he'd groused at me. "Fer a strong lad. Aye see the way yer belly moves; t'is an active lad in there." I had not ventured to ask for girl names. He was certain I carried a boy. And...he hadn't been wrong. When my labor pains had begun, I had dismissed them, since I'd been out gathering some of the wood I had chopped the day before. The house was unusually cold. My howls of pain had made him go to get the midwife and she spent the day with me as I writhed and hollered in agonizing pain. It quite literally felt as if I were being broken in half, my insides seering. Sweat dripped down my face and body. And finally, the woman had spoken, "T'is time!" This had been the moment I had secretly dreamed of since the moment I'd realised I was a child. Positioning me, she roared for me to push--and push I did. My screams were loud, obnoxiously so. But even Colin didn't complain. I think even he knew to never bother a laboring woman. I began to realise something was wrong because the midwife was trying to keep calm. "I have to..." she began and I passed out. Whatever she did, I have no idea, but I awoke to her yelling at me to push. I was exhausted already, no energy left. But I braced myself and I pushed one final time before I fell back against the pillows. The scent of coppery blood filled the air and the sound of silence. Never a good sign. I extended my arms, I wanted my son. I wanted him. The midwife motioned for me to wait a moment before she handed me the swaddled figure. I am relatively sure that I felt my heart break and swell all at once. But I also knew, I was dying too. By how the woman was acting, I knew it. It wasn't something she was trying to hide. She left the room for a moment to talk to my fool husband.  Husband to a useless wife, as he always complained. Failed farmer, renowned drinker. Now? Father to a dead child. Dead! Mon Dieu, he was cruel! Yet I did not turn from him. A Catholic all my life, I could not turn from him. In my heart, I was begging him to give my son life. To take mine and give Liam his. I knew I was dying, but let my son live! "Ma'am...,?" ".....""Ma'am.""....Yes?" I asked finally, fingers brushing against the infant's cheeks. Cold porcelain, that is how he felt to me. Even as I write this, I still remember that. My sweet boy, I pray you feel my touch, wherever you are! I thought to myself before I raised him to my lips, bathing his face in the most feather-light yet tender kisses I had ever bestowed on anyone. Finally, I knew I had to let him go. The midwife took the boy from me and I watched her silently. I did not cry any longer, nor did I scream. I knew she was taking him to our local priest who would see to his burial in the small church cemetery. She did not say it to me, but I knew she was likely going to inquire after a plot for me as well. I took comfort in that fact. "Mr. O'Callaghan, she's not goin' ta survive tha night, sir," the midwife said as she left, "She's lost too much blood." I was contented with that; I didn't want to live anymore anyway. I lay back against my pillows, my eyes closing as I waited for death to claim me as its latest mistress. I would not fight. I only hoped that the ending was peaceful; that I be allowed to leave the world as I had come into it. Silently. Hours passed by and with each passing moment, I grew weaker and weaker. Colin, sat beside me, holding my hand, gazing at me, his brown eyes full of tears. He would cry now, I thought bitterly. I was dying, but he had never shed a tear for all the times he had hurt me. All the tears he'd made me shed, every bruise he'd ever laid upon me, every time he'd raped me or had his friends take turns on me. He'd never apologised for all of his insults he'd flung at me. Had I the energy, I'd have pulled my hand away. Instead, I gloated about my impending death. "Don't cry, I am going to be a better place," I whispered and I heard him make a sound. It sounded like a cruel laugh, but I was beyond caring. No longer would he cause me pain. Instead, I again shut my eyes and soon my breathing became labored. My mind began to wander and I grew even more tired than I ever had been in my life. I became delirious, sure that my father was sitting beside me with Liam resting in his arms. My sister Antoinette was with him as well as my beloved Grandmother. Of course, they were all dead...they were coming to take me into the next life. I was ready to go. "Ye stupid bitch. I knew you were pathetic but this is a new low, e'en fer you, lassy. Tonight, ye shall see hell an' it'll be me sendin' ye there." Colin growled and I rolled my eyes. A bastard until the end, I mused. "Aye wanted one thing. ONE. An' ye f***ed that up. My son's goin' ta be in the cold 'ard ground an' t'is your fault!" And that was when I felt it. the prick at my neck...... Weakly, I beat my fists against him, but he pinned them down to the bed. His hands felt like a heavy vice; I couldn't have pushed him off at my usual health and strength, why I thought I could do so now, I had no idea. Perhaps it was my desire to die. I could feel the presence of Death present in the room as if calling me to him. Yet, I wanted to stop him. To be spared one final indignity at the hands of this cruel man. But strength already sapped, this was a battle I would not--could not!--win. I wasn't sure what he was doing...what was going on? I began to feel light headed. "Leave off, you bastard!" I hissed angrily. Finally, he withdrew from me and through hazy eyes, I surmised he was a demon. His eyes were red, bright red and his mouth was stained with blood. What had I done in life to go to Hell? The room began to spin and my head ached horribly. I lay there, weak, somewhere between life and death; more towards death. Each system in my body shut down...and I lay there unable to do anything about it except wait for my heart to stop, my breathing to cease and my soul to depart my body. There is nothing more horrible than knowing you are dying and you cannot stop it even if you want it to. The realization that each system...each organ is dying...it is a lot to take in all at once. You lay there, aware of the fact that your mortal days are coming to a close. Granted, in a far more painful way than you anticipated, but it was what I longed for. A release from the pain. I found it slightly amusing that memories of my life flashed before my eyes; walking in the gardens of Versailles with my father, helping my mother dress for one of her salons, riding horses with Frederick, my sister Antoinette doing my hair for me and my other sister, Vivienne and I bickering, meeting Queen Marie Antoinette and time spent with Tante Helena, dancing with Monsieur Caldwell. There were grand moments in a life that had held great sorrows too. I was glad that I wasn't seeing those in my final moments. This was not to be. Something was pressed to my mouth. The coppery and bittersweet taste filled my mouth and I gagged, trying to push it away. I cracked open an eye slowly, noticing Colin.  I groaned and he persisted. After more struggling and his striking me across the face, I  took to his wrist like an infant to its mother's breast. When he pulled away, he blinked and stepped back. I let out a horrified and pain filled scream as my body began to hurt. Yes, I had known pain, but never a pain such as this. "Yer body is dyin', lass." He told me plainly, sitting down by the fire and lighting up his pipe. Had I the energy, I'd have thrown something at him. I fell to the floor, writhing in agonizing pain. It was worse than the pain of childbirth; it was the same pain--everywhere. He continued to sit there and watch me calmly until I finally stopped. I shut my eyes, hot tears escaping them, as I felt my body...changing? Minutes later, I opened them again, darting them around unsure that what I was seeing was real. Nothing seemed real...and everything sounded different. I could hear neighbor's thoughts and private conversations despite them living miles away. I could hear the beating of the horse and chicken's hearts out in the barn. I could hear Colin's thoughts. It had to be his thoughts since he wasn't saying a word. Despite my body still aching, I got to my feet, clinging to the bedpost to keep me up. "What have you done to me?" I hissed, shocked at the melodic tone that my voice now held. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth; surely this was not my voice! I looked to my looking glass and gasped. Pale luminescent skin, bright emerald eyes, my long hair, which I'd colored with henna--he preferred my hair darker--was back to its natural blonde and it was luminous. Dark circles were under my eyes. I scarce looked human. I gasped as something pricked my tongue and I opened my mouth, finding two-inch long fangs there. I screamed and Colin laughed. "Vampire, my love," he told me, standing behind me, his eyes turning from brown to red, his fangs extending. "My blood runs through ye. Ye ached for death and I denied ye. I made ye into what I am. Yer lucky tha' I'm strong. T'will make killin' yerself much harder. And now, lass, my final gift to ye." Gripping my wrist and turning me around to face him, he pulled my wedding ring from my finger and took his own off, throwing them into the fireplace. I was pleased to see them go. "Consider this a divorce," he told me. Well, this was a true gift--to be free of him! But he wasn't done. "Ye f***in' lazy cunt," he began and I laughed. Lazy? Who had taken care of his Godforsaken and doomed farm? Who had slaughtered the few animals so we had food? Who had plowed the crops in their sixth month of pregnancy? Who had chopped wood just yesterday despite being full term pregnant? Who cooked? Who cleaned? Even after being beaten to a pulp or having endured the horrors of the marriage bed, I had done these things even whilst trying to deal with and endure all of the emotional, psychological, sexual, and physical abuse. "Ye couldn't e'en give me a son. All ye wanted ta do was read your goddamned books. An' ye think I dinna know about your friend visitin'? He's tha only reason I dinna raise my hand to ye while you were carryin' my boy. I always fancied I could beat ye into bein' a good wife. What a waste of me time. An' t'en I find I can't e'en claim yer inheritance." "I can't even touch that. And Papa made certain you or any man I married can't touch it," I countered with a laugh of my own. "But I will be certain to enjoy it when I come into it." I made that promise to myself in that moment; that I must live long enough to spite him. To inherit my fortune and to enjoy myself.  "But you can go to hell." I snapped, an anger filling me that I had never known; the fire in the fireplace flaring up as if reflecting it. Colin looked to it, then me. The weakness I had felt was now forgotten; I was filled with anger and hatred. He lunged at me and I dodged him, laughing as he hit the floor. Moving over to the bureau, I pulled out a dress and slipped it on over my nightgown. Granted, it was stained with blood, but when I got to where I was going--where was I going?--I would find something new. It was homespun and plain, but I had to escape him and I would. I had to get out of here. I took what small amount of money I possessed--saved from when my brother had sent me little care packages-my two remaining pieces of jewelry and hid it in a pocket of my skirt. I turned and looked upon Colin once more, screeching as he grabbed me, throwing me to the floor again, pulling at me and pawing like a young man with his first whore in an alley, all while also working to loosen his breeches. "There's some spirit in ye, lass! Where's tha' been hidin'?" He groaned delightedly and I scratched at him like a cat. My nails, which I'd always kept somewhat long and neat were now sharp as razors; drawing blood from his cheek. To say that I enjoyed feeling his flesh rip away as I dug into him is an understatement, I confess.  His roar of pain gave me the moment I needed to squirm away. Feeling emboldened, I kicked him in the crotch for good measure, cackling as he grabbed at himself, doubled over in pain. Grabbing the lantern from the table beside the bed, I looked around the room. There was nothing here that I wanted. Nothing I needed. "I curse the day I ever met you!" I sneered at him and I threw it, watching as his pant leg caught fire and he began to scream and holler. I covered my nose at the smell and ran into the other rooms of the house, lighting the curtains, and whatever else I could to set the entire place ablaze. Colin's screams were loud and obscene as the entire house went up. From the outside of the house, I barred the doors, watching my little home go up. I had always loved the house. But watching it burn, that was a great pleasure. Burning away the last three years...hopefully burning him to a crisp... There was no time to waste. None at all. I had to leave. I first ran to our barn, releasing the chickens and our horse. They needn't die in this fire. There was only one person who needed to die and I hoped he was well into that process by now. I mounted the horse bareback, clinging to him as I made haste into town. That it was freezing didn't seem to effect me any longer; or I was too hopped up on adrenaline to particularly care. I was thankful that no one was around--it was freezing, no one in their right mind would be out tonight. I made a beeline to the church and I slid off of the horse. I led him into the small stables there. The Priest knew my horse and I knew once he heard what happened, he'd know I'd finally made my escape. I hoped he'd forgive me for doing murder. I then climbed down into the cellar, hiding myself in the shadows. I needed to hide. From what little bit I did know of vampires, I knew they did not like the sun. I also knew that I had to start thinking of myself as one. What a strange thing. I was glad that my heading into the church--consecrated ground--had not resulted in death. It was the only place I knew I would be safe for the time being. There were no windows and I was entirely hidden from the sunlight. And as I sat there, the gravity of all of it hit me. I was now...a childless mother, a divorcee. Or widowed? Who knew if he was dead? I wasn't about to go looking to find out. I was as low on my luck as I could possibly be. The only thing that I kept murmuring to myself was that I was going home. I had some people there. And if I could conceal what I now was, they might be inclined to help me. Absentmindely, I went to twist the wedding band I was used to around my finger. However, it was obviously not there. It was strange, to be so used to something. Instead, I brought my hand to my necklace; a small crucifix. It had been a gift from my father years before. My eyes welled up as I could see him before me. Would that I could run into his embrace for comfort. "Papa," I whispered. "I need you." I had to get back to Paris. I needed to go home. France even. I would first go to Alencon. If I turned up in Paris where Maman was, I would be made to endure her sharp tongue and quips about my failure as a wife. I had some on me money; carriages would get me there, perhaps. No, it wouldn't. I had forgotten I would have to endure a ship. I cringed. If I ran out of money, I could pawn my pearl necklace or my rosary. I could resort to the oldest profession on the world. After all I'd been through, it seemed a small price to pay. My body had been used and abused for that purpose; what was another man or two? Looking around where I was, I found an old blanket and bunched it up, making a pillow. I needed to rest. Yet, I could hear people talking as I dozed through the day. "So he was gone?" A woman's voice; I think the shopkeeper."Aye. The bastard wasn't there. God forgive my coarse language. And if the little one was there? She's ash. There's nothing left except the barn. The animals are gone." There was Father Padraig. I'd know his voice as well as anyone. "A pity, mother and child dying together." "Indeed. But I shall dedicate mass to them this week. I can do nothing more than that. Ah, wait. I will write to her brother as well. He is in Rome, however. It will take some time for word to reach him." The voices fused together as one and I eventually figured out how to block them out, sleeping deeply. I needed the rest. It was so deep; I'd never slept like that before. I woke up refreshed, but the gnawing hunger I felt was going to do me in quickly. Still, I needed to speak to Father Padraig. Heading up into the church, I made my way to him, finding him in the confessional. I didn't speak the words, but he knew it was me. How? I still don't know. "I am glad you're alive," he spoke warmly. "But you cannot stay. They'll hang you for his murder, despite everyone loathing him." "I know," I replied, looking to my hands. "I spoke to a captain; he's willing to let you stay below decks. I assume you'd want to return to France." "Yes, sir." "Then to the docks with you, young lady."

I silently left the church and used the darkness as a shield and I did, against my better judgment...manage to kill someone. He was ill and dying. I couldn't find the will to take someone full of vigor and life still. The man seemed grateful for the release, though I could hear his wife's shrieks at finding him dead in my head for hours afterward. I then made way to the shipyard, finding the ship--the only one that was leaving--and the Captain snuck me aboard. "This will not be an easy journey," he warned me. I did not shy away from it. After the last 24 hours, I would not shy away from this. It would take about a month--three weeks, actually, we arrived a week early as there was no ice in the water. I stayed below decks, and those souls who did venture to travel down there did not return. Namely the ill or those who the crew did not like. Once I had finished, they went out the porthole. Still, I did my best not to kill too many. I believe I took all of five in the month I was aboard. I was glad to be hidden away, it gave me time to think about things. We would land in Caen and from there, I could go home to Paris. Home. Finally. I shall not bore you with the tales of disembarking but once I did, I began the arduous process of walking from the docks towards the only place I thought I might find some solace: Tante Helena's. It took me a few days to get there, but I allowed myself to feel some level of excitement. Perhaps I would finally be accepted into arms that would embrace me. Knocking upon the door, I could only hope that I would be permitted entry. I was in need of a bath, fresh clothes and companionship. And by that, I needed my adopted aunt. She would let me cry for a few moments and then tell me to get it together. I felt ashamed at my haggard appearance but knocked at the door regardless. Within, I could hear a party going on. It seemed life was treating Tante Helena well, which pleased me. I had always relished in seeing her happy. Overhead, fireworks exploded and I cringed, for the sound hurt my ears. The new sensitivity in my ears required getting used to. I drew my threadbare shawl about me more, shivering and praying for some sort of mercy. I supposed she was celebrating the holiday season. Or perhaps there was some celebration in honour of the revolution that was occurring. As the door opened, a beautiful woman stood there; one adorned in the latest fashion in a robe ala Francaise, a tricolor cockade upon her breast. Her dark hair hung loosely about her face, eyes cold and calculating. She looked at me with a critical eye, tossing a coin at me. I did not refuse it, namely because I could use it at the moment. But it also made me arch a brow; did I truly look that bad off? "I'm here to see the lady of the house," I spoke hoarsely. Would that I could have a glass of water! "And what business have you here?" The woman asked curtly. I was of a mind to slap her but was far too tired and weak to do so. "She is my aunt," I replied quietly and the woman's laughter sounded like a small church bell, light and sweet. I confess I had not expected that sweet sound to come from such stern lips. Remaining silent, I could feel the warmth of the house and I was so tired that I could barely stand. My knees were going to give out beneath me. "I do not believe you," the woman finally spoke, pressing a few more coins in my hand."Do not return here, chit, or else I shall call for the constable.""Please, I ask only that you tell her that Clarisse du Volde was here." "Of course," the woman snickered before slamming the door in my face. I felt so ashamed as I stood there. I had been so certain that I would be allowed entry. But now, I was, once again, left to sort myself out. I turned and walked away, pausing only to look at the coins in my hand. There was a kindly amount, much to my surprise. I clutched it close before sticking them in the pocket of my dress and began to walk again. I shuddered in the cold and as a farmer went by, I begged a ride to wherever he was going next. It was to Alencon I went. I knew we had a house there, thankfully. A few days later... It had been a pure stroke of luck that one of the former servants had taken notice of me as I headed into a tavern for some respite. The scent of everyone's blood was driving me mad, but I was in need of warmth. "Miss Clarisse?" He'd spoken cheerily. I was embarrassed that in my state he would recognize me, but he had been one of the stable workers. It took me a moment, but his name was Louis; named for our king. He did not seem to mind or care. He approached and gave me a hug. I leaned into him, appreciative. "You are skin and bones," he remarked. "Do you remember Adelaide, my wife? She'd want to fatten you up. Shame we can't though." My mother had apparently fired them for stealing. "Have you a key to the house still?" I asked. "Aye. I do." The male replied. "She fired most of us. The house simply sits there now. Ever since Madame and her lover parted, she no longer visits here." "I shall speak to my brother," I promised, "I cannot promise that he'll be able to secure funds to pay you all. But if you would assist me, I would be in your debt." I was hesitant, admittedly. I didn't know if they would be willing. My mother's wrath was something of legend. However, after three years with Colin, she seemed a docile lamb in comparison. "Miss Clarisse, you always treated us kindly, took time to learn our names and about our families. You never had a cruel thing to say to us, despite our differences," Louis remarked, patting my hand. "Come. Let me take you home."    I was surprised to find that a great deal of the staff lived nearby still and were pleased to hear that I had come back. I had never realised that I had such an effect. I was further surprised to learn that they knew of supernatural creatures...that they knew we existed. I was shocked by that...but it made the adjustment easier. I tended to go after animals. I could not bring myself to harm anyone. They were good people; each of them could have reported me to the church. But they saw me still as Mademoiselle, the little imp who ate cake under the table, the one who played with a hoop and stick with her brother down long corridors...and of course, the one who spent hours in the library. Upon receiving word that I had settled into the Alencon estate, my brother came to visit straight away. It was hard to hide from him what I was, but he accepted my excuses that since the loss of my child, going out during the day was simply too much for me. He indulged me, taking walks at night. I do not know how we--and I say we because the staff was helpful--pulled it off. Good to my word, Frederick was able to secure money for the household and thus, I began to learn how to manage it. I also began to work on learning how to write more than my name. I also began to sock away my allowance to return to Paris. I had an ache for the theatre. My voice was still good, the shows were at night; where better for a vampire to hide? For all my worries, I found a rhythm. I found...some peace. Not much, but I could live with myself. Whatever animal I killed, the servants used the meat for themselves. I was amused at how well things were going. I planned a return to Paris in January. I needed to be where I was most at home. And with all of the city going mad, I had heard something along the lines of illness and death; it was not a proud thought, but a merciful one. I would end the suffering of those who wanted it and I would sate my own hunger. The night before I was to leave, I had a visitor. "Of course, Louis, permit them entry. You may bring them here," I replied, looking up from my trunk, where I had accumulated quite the trousseau in a short time. I moved about my claimed room before I sat down at my desk. "Bonjour, Clari..." My head jerked up at the voice. It was Monsieur Caldwell, a face I had not seen in seven long months, not since I had begged him not to visit me any longer, given that I was with child. His face was a welcome sight to me and his open arms? Heaven. "You've found me..." I murmured before rushing into his embrace. Lips pressed to the crown of my head. "I'll always find you, Clari," he whispered back. "I've told you that. But I do warn you. Paris is not as you remember it. You must be brave and you must brace yourself." I thought I had no tears left to cry. How wrong I was. How wrong indeed.

[joshuazev]

On the killing of a sacred deer:  a very unprofessional and emotional review

*disclaimer:  if you are thinking of seeing this movie then I would advise maybe reading it after you do.  I don’t know if I’ll say things that would ruin the plot or the surprises and twists of this very twisted movie, but just in case…stay away.  I prefer not to hold the blame.

*ammendum:  this is filled with a lot of spoilers

Where to start?  Well, with context, I suppose.  “The Killing of a Sacred Deer” is a film by Yorgos Lanthimos, a greek director who has earned lots of attention and acclaim for his recent films “Dogtooth” and last years “The Lobster.”  “Dogtooth” was a pretty awful viewing experience.  If I wasn’t sick to my stomach I was wincing and if I wasn’t wincing I was turning away to avoid the grotesque images on screen.  “The Lobster” was slightly different.  I had to admit the premise of the movie was very captivating—a world in which all single people must go to a facility (a hotel) to find a partner within a certain amount of days otherwise they’d be turned into an animal of their choosing.  It was a bit dystopian, but still very contemporary and the way in which the ruling authority of the hotel handled dissenters and ran their operation could be associated to a lot of modern day control systems.  That was good, but it ended up being a bit sadistic too  Sometimes I think Yorgos can’t help but turn to that direction in his movies and it’s unfortunate because I think it takes away from some very thought provoking points that he makes.  In “Dogtooth” there is a scene in which one of the characters removes one of her teeth.  It’s gruesome and nauseating.  At the end of the “The Lobster” a man is about to stab out his eyes in order to be with a woman who was recently blinded.  Originally they both had the same vision.  That was their thing in common.  She gets blinded.  He wants to carry on like before.  There’s a lot more to it, but it might make more sense to just watch the movie.

The experience.  I went my brother Alex and his girlfriend Cecile.  It was a crowded 7:50 showing at the Union Square theater and the crowd was bubbling with excitement.  They, like me I suppose, were also turned inside out by Lanthimos’ previous movies and wanted to see the new and inventive ways he could make us wriggle and squirm—our eyes glued all the same— again with this film.  There were two very memorable moments before the film even started.  There was a Regal promoted short film that lasted about a minute (a long commercial, really) that was so blatantly sexually suggestive that it kind of grossed everybody in the audience.  A girl is with her boyfriend and they go to the concessions stand where they are greeted by a very attractive man.  He moves in slow mo.  There are slow-cuts to him getting the popcorn and bringing it over.  Him putting soda in the cup.  Her watching him do it.  Her getting the cup and sipping the straw and bliss.  It mine as well have been softcore porn.  There was an audible hum and collective groan from the crowd.  Then, we somehow withstood the trailer for “12 Strong,” which might have been the most ridiculous, unnecessary piece of shit movie that will ever be released.  And the crazy thing was how many real solid actors are in the movie.  Michael Shannon, Trevante Rhodes, Michael Peña.  A paycheck—sure, but a waste of everyone’s time who decides to go see it.  I felt the urge to shout out my distaste and I could not have been happier to hear the chorus of boos from my fellow moviegoers.  It’s like we all asked, “Why the fuck…?…and How the fuck…?”  Who green lights this trash?  I take that back…there was another horrible trailer, too.  “The Disaster Artist”…and Alex and I both questioned the disaster that was the producers of what will for sure be another huge waste of anyone’s time.  So you can understand where we’re coming from now, right?  You got these movies coming out.  That makes a movie like “The Killing…” that much more appetizing.  We are all ravenous for movies that make us think and by the end of this post you can hopefully understand why I was both satisfied and disappointed with what I saw.  

The credits begin rolling and I’m immediately hit with the scale of the film.  The way the energy and the attention changed in the theater was a tribute to the filmmaker’s style and command over us, the viewer.  It was a really cool moment.  The credits appeared one at a time with no sound.  Then, when they were finished a black screen appeared.  Classical music soared through the speakers.  Remnants of Kubrick were reverberating.  And then…the first image, a continuous shot of a beating heart during surgery…someone is being operated on.  The heart:  both a literal sign and a metaphor for a living being.  Hearts give us life and yet, some of us have the painful difficulty of feeling nothing.  This ended up being a huge theme of the movie.  Feeling, the search for it, the lack of it, and the replacement of it with it’s anthesis, numbness.  Colin Farrell is a surgeon.  The image ends with him having his gear being removed and the final shot is him taking off his gloves that are blood soaked, which also turns out to be a theme; what it’s like to live with blood on your hands.  His family is composed of a wife (Nicole Kidman, also a doctor), his daughter, and his son.  To speak kindly and plainly, they live a warped life.  They are rigid.  Their house is huge (feels suburban).  Everything is very, very much in order.  There are rules.  There are chores.  They handle their business.  And like Dogtooth, there seems to be a zone in which the kids especially cannot step out of.  His daughter has just had her first period.  She is sexually repressed.  The son is insolent in that he refuses to cut his long hair despite his dad’s requests.  There is an underlying way of talking from everybody that seems like they are all catatonic.  Not quite Andy Kaufman like, but you get what I mean.  No vocal variation.  There is such an eerie lack of emotion.  This even extends to the parents sexual contact.  Instead of engaging in intercourse, Kidman’s character simps lays out, sprawled on the bed like a statue, making herself available for Farrell’s character to do as he pleases.  So, to summarize.  This is a family that is in such order that you wonder if the kids ever asked the parents whether they could breathe or not.  

Enter Martin.  Martin is the son of a patient that Farrell operated on years ago.  There is an odd relationship between the two and we don’t really understand why.  Why are they always together?  Why do they meet up at diners?  Why does Martin always visit him at the hospital.  Well, it turns out that Martin’s dad died during surgery.  According to Farrell, it wasn’t his fault, “a surgeon can’t kill a patient, but an anesthesiologist can kill a patient,” he says.  So, there it is.  He feels guilty about the death of his father and keeps his around as a way to pay respects to the dad or because he feels guilty, maybe?  Why does he feel so guilty you might ask?  Well, as it turns out, Farrell might have been drinking during their surgery.  So Martin comes along, first through his relationship with Farrell, but then he introduces himself to the whole family and from there the movie’s wheels start running wild.  He becomes sexually connected to the daughter, taking her out for walks, going on motorcycle rides, and displaying some of his man features to the son by showing him the hair under his armpits.  Martin is clearly off.  What was he like before his father’s death, I wonder?  What’s his deal?  Does he have a mom?  Yes, played by Alicia Silverstone.  He tries to get Farrell to sleep with his mother and Farrell, a married man of 16 years, declines.  This doesn’t go over very well.  Farrell begins to avoid him.  Martin doesn’t appreciate this.    

Then, out of the blue, the son wakes up one day and has no feeling in his legs.  “They’re numb,” he says.  “I can’t feel them.”  He gets rushed to the hospital, undergoes tests, and finds nothing wrong with them.  He walks out of the hospital with his mother to one of the coolest shots in the film where there is this huge wide shot from above watching the two descend the escalator.  Sure enough—and I know I wasn’t the only one thinking something bad was going to happen, but at the bottom of the stairs the son collapses and we know there is something a little deeper than we might have expected.  He’s kept in the hospital for more tests, but the doctors still can’t find out what’s wrong.  Martin calls Farrell to the cafeteria and unloads his plot.  Farrell must choose one of his family to die to settle the score from his dad’s death.  They will all experience the same thing.  First, numbness, then a loss of appetite (which his son already begins to exhibit), bleeding from the eyes, and then death.  This drives Farrell mad and Martin is kicked out of the hospital, but his hold on the family is very much alive.  He has already poisoned the daughter’s mind enough to the point where she’s completely invested in him even when her legs start to go numb and she loses her appetite.  The son, unfortunately in the whole movie, is the fall guy and guinea pig.  I tried to figure out what he might have done to deserve it.  Was he the sacred deer?  Was Martin’s dad?  

One thing leads to another and the family begins to self destruct with Martin pulling the strings.  There are more and more obvious breaks in the supposed ideal fantasy marriage that Farrell and Kidman show to the public.  As their situation gets worse and worse they must decide what to do.  Farrell holds Martin hostage, beats him up, and shoots him in the leg—a wound that Kidman ends up mending and finally she lets him go.  She goes to visit him at his home to try and convince him to stop, to save herself a little bit.  There are many motivations.  She is unsuccessful.  She does what she can to uncover everything about the special case with Farrell and Martin’s dad.  To free herself from blame?  To then place it all on Farrell?  The kids at one point are returned from the hospital to go live at home again.  There is such a discord within that home.  Downstairs are two immobile kids (even though the daughter goes out of her way to crawl to various areas of the house.  Upstairs is a broken relationship.  Nobody can feel anything.  There is the numbness in their legs and there is the numbness of the parents’ artificial relationship.

The outcome.  After a twisted turn of events that include Farrell going to school to see which of his kids excels more (in hope of finding which one would be more worth saving??) and the daughter crawling her way out of the house leaving her with bloody scratches and cuts, which then leads her to try and convince her father that she is more worthy.  The son’s eyes begin to bleed one day, signaling a imminent end and the daughter shouts, “Dad, Bob’s dying!.”  Many people in the audience started laughing, but I couldn’t take my eyes off this young boy who was bleeding from his eyes.  At one point he tries to show his worth in a last ditch effort to cut his hair, water the plants, and all the things he was so against when he wasn’t affected.  This is exactly what Martin said would happen, Farrell thinks.  So one night he tapes up his entire family to furniture, puts bags over their heads, puts a beanie over his face and plays Russian roulette with a rifle.  I won’t tell you what happens, despite having told you everything already.  I wonder if what Martin said was even true.  Was there really a final act of death or was the final act purposefully in the hands of Farrell.  So much of the movie revolves around “psychological problems.”  The kids, their conditions, it must be due to “psychological problems.”  Martin, he’s not well.  It must be due to “psychological problems” and yet so much of the guilt could be resolved by each character, specifically the parents, looking in a mirror.  

So I’ve basically summarized the movie, but now for a little post-film thoughts.  I was uncomfortable for every minute of that movie.  It was not enjoyable and the “funny” moments weren’t funny—they were absurd, much like in his previous films.  Having digested it a little bit, what have I been thinking of?  I wonder if Yorgos can’t help but make his points without being gratuitous.  Was that outcome inevitable?  Are we dealing with sick people living confined lives?  The cinematography was pretty extraordinary.  Yorgos and the cinematographer have the look of his movies down, for sure.  There were some angles that I loved.  Other images that were grand in scale and innovative in detail.  There is an obvious influence of Kurbick and Michael Haneke.  Kubrick’s images particularly and Hankeke’s pace and subject matter.  The score of the movie, specifically during the intense scenes and scenes where something particularly dramatic was happening, was crazy.  Very Kubrickian.  Eerie strings.  Loud, bassy horns.  A great handle on classical music.  There were handfuls of distressful images, uncomfortable images, and “what the fuck” moments where you wondered if the movie was actually going to go through with what it was setting up to do.  The image of the beating heart.  The image of Martin eating a plate of spaghetti.  The image of blood tearing from Bob’s eyes.  The intense close up of Martin drinking water.  The image of ketchup being poured onto fries.  The image of Farrell trying to stuff a donut down his son’s throat.  Then there were the recurring images of something like a kid trying to get up when we know he can’t and hitting the ground.  We all know what’s gonna happen.  He can’t feel anything in his fucking legs!  Watching that continue and continue to happen was very unsettling.  It wasn’t funny to me.  

I wonder, due to the themes of Lanthimos’ films, what his childhood might have been like.  I’m not saying life experience has to influence the themes and subject matter of the movies we make, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Yorgos grew up in a very tight box.  Who knows?  At the end, one of the biggest questions you might ask that is never answered is, “How is Martin doing this?  How is he controlling the process?  What does he possess?  There is one moment where the daughter, who can’t walk, speaks to Martin on the phone and suddenly she can walk again.  That had to be something symbolic.  Is his justice deserved?  Is his revenge deserved?  Is he a sort of God?  Does his dad’s death at the hands of Farrell allow him to manifest his plan?  I don’t know. 

It’s a movie.  And even though I didn’t “like” it per se, it’ll be one that I continue to think about for a while.  Everyone knew what they were getting into the moment they stepped into that theater.  They came to laugh at the absurd and the sadistic.  They came to appreicate original cinema.  They came to be disgusted.  To shuffle in their seats and hide their faces.  Because even though that all might be true.  I would be willing to bet that most of them are still talking about it right now…which I guess makes it a good movie, right?  Good.  Bad.  Whatever.  I was provoked.  Provoked to think and look deep inside.  Provoked to feel, ironically.  And nowadays that is a valuable thing in itself.        

[allons-y-clarisse]

Turning.

31 October 1791 The pain....the blood...the crisp white sheets were taken off of the small bed and thrown into the fireplace, ruined by the blood that had come from a failed childbirth. The bleeding finally having stopped, new sheets placed upon the bed and a crisp and clean nightgown put on me, I lay there, with an infant in my arms. His small hands, hands that should have been moving were still. His eyes were shut and instead of screams and cries, there was only silence from him. His body twitched from nerves that were not yet dead and his face was blue. For nine months, I had carried this child. I had grown to love him. He was mine. Mine. He was the first person in the world who could I truly call my own. My blood was within him. Features that were mine would be his. My heart belonged to this little boy. Liam Francis Christopher O'Callaghan. This had been the moment I had secretly dreamed of since the moment I'd realised I was a child. Now it was here and my child was dead. DEAD! Mon Dieu, he was cruel! Yet I did not turn from him. A Catholic all my life, I could not turn from him. In my heart, I was begging him to give my son life. To take mine and give Liam his. I knew I was dying, but let my son live! "Ma'am...,?" ".....""Ma'am." "....Yes?" I asked finally, fingers brushing against the infant's cheeks. My sweet boy, I pray you feel my touch, wherever you are! I thought to myself before I raised him to my lips, bathing his face in the most feather-light yet tender kissed I had ever bestowed on anyone. Finally, I knew I had to let him go.    The midwife took the boy from me and I watched her silently. I did not cry, nor did I scream. I knew she was taking him to our local priest who would see to his burial in the small church cemetery. Instead, I took comfort in the small fact that I would soon be with my son. I wasn't going to survive the night, the midwife had said, I had lost too much blood. I was contented with that; I didn't want to live anymore anyway. I lay back against my pillows, my eyes closing as I waited for death to claim me as its latest mistress. I would not fight. I only hoped that the ending was peaceful; that I be allowed to leave the world as I had come into it. Silently. Hours passed by and with each passing moment, I grew weaker and weaker. My husband, Colin, sat beside me, holding my hand, gazing at me, his brown eyes full of tears. He would cry now., I thought bitterly. I was dying, but he had never shed a tear for all the times he had hurt me. All the tears he'd made me shed, every bruise he'd ever laid upon me, every time he'd raped me or had his friends take turns on me. He'd never apologised for all of his insults he'd flung at me. Had I the energy, I'd have pulled my hand away. Instead, I gloated about my impending death. "Don't cry, I am going to be a better place," I whispered and I heard him make a sound. It sounded like a cruel laugh, but I was beyond caring. No longer would he cause me pain. Instead, I again shut my eyes and soon my breathing became labored. My mind began to wander and I grew even more tired than I ever had been in my life. I became delirious, sure that my father was sitting beside me with Liam resting in his arms. My sister Antoinette was with him as well as my beloved Grandmother. Of course, they were all dead...they were coming to take me into the next life. I was ready to go. "Ye stupid bitch. Ye didn't even fight fer yer life. I knew you were pathetic but this is a new low, e'en fer you, lassy. Tonight, ye shall see hell an' it'll be me sendin' ye there." Colin growled and I rolled my eyes. A bastard until the end, I mused and that was when I felt it. The prick at my neck. Weakly, I beat my fists against him, but he pinned them down to the bed. His hands felt like a pair of cuffs; I couldn't have pushed him off at my usual health and strength. I wanted to stop him...but I wasn't sure what he was doing...what was going on? Finally, he withdrew from me and through hazy eyes, I surmised he was a demon. What had I done in life to go to Hell? The room began to spin and my head ached horribly. I lay there, weak, somewhere between life and death; more towards death. Each system in my body shut down...and I lay there unable to do anything about it except wait for my heart to stop, my breathing to cease and my soul to depart my body. There is nothing more horrible than knowing you are dying and you cannot stop it even if you want it to. The realization that each system...each organ is dying...it is a lot to take in all at once. This was not to be. Something was pressed to my mouth. The coppery and bittersweet taste filled my mouth and I gagged, trying to push it away. I cracked open an eye, noticing Colin. I groaned and he persisted. After more struggling and his striking me across the face, I  took to his wrist like an infant to its mothers breast, I clung to his wrist. When he pulled away, he blinked and stepped back. I let out a horrified and pain filled scream as my body began to hurt. Yes, I had known pain, but never a pain such as this. "Yer body is dyin', lass." He told me plainly, sitting down by the fire and lighting up his pipe. Had I the energy, I'd have thrown something at him. I fell to the floor, writhing in agonizing pain. He continued to sit there and watch me calmly until I finally stopped. I shut my eyes, hot tears escaping them, as I felt my body changing. Minutes later, I opened them again, darting them around unsure that what I was seeing was real. Nothing seemed real...and everything sounded different. Despite my body still aching, I got to my feet, clinging to the bedpost to keep me up. "What have you done to me?" I hissed, shocked at the melodic tone that my voice now held. I brought my hand up to cover my mouth; surely this was not my voice!! I looked to my looking glass and gasped. Pale luminescent skin, bright emerald eyes...I scarce looked human. I opened my mouth, finding two fangs there. I screamed and Colin laughed at me as I fainted. When I came around a few minutes later, he pulled my wedding ring from my finger and took his off, throwing them into the fire place. "Consider this a divorce," he told me. "Ye f***in' lazy bitch," he began and I laughed. Lazy? Who had taken care of his Godforsaken and doomed farm? Who had slaughtered the few animals so we had food? Who had plowed the crops in their sixth month of pregnancy? Who had chopped wood just yesterday despite being full term pregnant? Who cooked? Who cleaned? Even after beaten to a pulp or being raped, I had done these things even whilst trying to deal with and endure all of the emotional, psychological, and physical abuse. "You couldn't even give me a son. I have no use for you. Go about your life now. Not that I t'ink yeh'll make it past tomorra." I blinked, stunned at his words and then looked at him coldly. "Go to hell," I snapped, an anger filling me that I had never known; the fire in the fireplace flaring up. Colin looked to it, then me. The weakness I felt was now forgotten; I was filled with anger and hatred. He lunged at me and I dodged him, laughing as he hit the floor. Moving over to the bureau, I pulled out a dress and slipped it on. It was homespun and plain, but I had to escape him. I had to get out of here. I took what small amount of money I possessed--saved from when my brother had sent me little care packages-my two remaining pieces of jewelry and hid it in a pocket of my skirt. I turned and looked upon Colin once more, screeching as he grabbed me, throwing me to the floor again, pulling at me and pawing like a young man with his first whore in an alley, all while also working to loosen his breeches. "There's some spirit in ye, lass!" He groaned delightedly and I scratched at him like a cat and kicked him in the crotch, freeing myself and grabbing the lantern on the table beside the bed. There was nothing here that I wanted. Nothing I needed. "I curse the day I ever met you!" I screamed and taking hold of the candelabra upon the dresser, I threw it at him, watching as his pant leg caught fire and he began to scream and holler. I covered my nose at the smell and ran into the other rooms of the house, lighting the curtains, and whatever else I could to set the entire place ablaze. Colin's screams were loud and obscene as the entire house went up. I confess, I jumped up and down for a moment, thinking myself free of him finally.

I made a beeline to the church and climbed down into the cellar, hiding myself in the shadows.It was the only place I knew I would be safe for the time being. There were no windows and I was entirely hidden from the sunlight. As I wept, mourning my son and my mortality, I resolved that to spite him, I would live. And I would do so splendidly. I just had to get back to Paris first. I had some money, carriages would get me there, perhaps. If I ran out of money, I could pawn my pearl necklace. Or resort to the oldest profession on the world. After all I'd been through, it seemed a small price to pay. Before I closed my eyes and felt into blissful slumber, I whispered, quoting the ill-fated Queen of Scots, "En ma Fin gît mon Commencement." In my end is my beginning.

[Written by me. Please do not steal!]