#and she would know because she had life-threatening cancer

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

So. Attack on Titan ended

YES AND I CANT TALK ABOUT IT BECAUSE I DID NOT REREAD OR REWATCH OR VIEW THE FINALE AT ALL DURING THE WHOLE MONTH I SAID I WOULD

also this is the best possible way you could have formatted that message

[1427]

would you? (pt. 2)

Negan x Reader

Summary: Your mom died when you were 15, your Aunt Lucille was given custody even though she was battling cancer. When the world gets upended and Lucille dies, Negan is all you have, but he isn’t cut out to be a parent. When he becomes the leader of the Saviors and takes residence in the Sanctuary he’s almost a stranger. No one wants anything to do with you because you’re Negan’s “daughter”. So when you confront Negan about needing company, he obliges. You don’t realize that the feelings you’re developing are inappropriate, but Negan does.

Setting: Height of the Saviors era Sanctuary, Negan’s bedroom. 

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is early/mid 40’s), virgin!reader, manipulation, guardian!negan (technically it’s Uncle!Negan and it IS mentioned explicitly), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, stocking!kink, innocence/corruption!kink, reader is described several times as a doll/toy, read at your own risk ok

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: uhm, my heart was racing the entire time I was writing this please read at your own risk fr

// Part 1 //

masterlist

18+ mdni

I was just bending over to grab my pencil, coach. 

For a while, you don’t bring up what happened that night. Going to lunch like everything’s normal. Negan is even more disturbed by this than he was by your innocent flirting. You don’t bring it up, but you’re different. Reminding him of some of his former students. The girls with obvious crushes - ones they were trying to hide but actively weren’t. They’d do things that could easily be explained away. 

Sorry, I only packed these shorts today. I didn’t realize they were against dress code. 

It was easy to not look then, to hardly be affected by silly teenage girls who had no idea what they were doing. He could go to the teachers lounge and flirt with the TA’s if he was really looking for someone younger. But younger isn’t necessarily what Negan liked. ‘Innocent’ wasn’t something he thought he could get into. But with you? He had all control, every single aspect of your life was in his hands - and he knows he fucked up. He knows he fucked you up… but he’d gone and fucked himself up too. Finding himself wanting to teach you everything. So caught up in the knowledge of how bad you want him makes him feel like a king - moreso than any amount of wives. You only wanted him. You only knew him.

Oblivious to Negan’s dirty secret and because he’d threatened to stop seeing you if you continued this flirting behavior you stick with subtle stuff. Wearing even lower cut shirts, mini-skirts and stockings. And sure, the stockings had holes in them. But Negan liked that even more than if they hadn’t. It let him imagine you weren’t this pristine untouched thing. He wasn’t sure which was worse; fantasizing about you as this perfect little doll that’s never been held by anyone, that doesn’t know anything about a man’s body or as this thing he’d corrupted. Giving you romance novels? What an amateur mistake on a colossal scale. 

When you started wearing skirts he could smell you. Your wet cunt, sweet and unmistakable, every single time you walked into his bedroom for lunch. He tries to ignore it, tells the kitchen to make more pungent food, wears cologne, but it doesn’t matter - he could pick your scent out of a line-up of the undead, having had weeks to memorize it. 

Negan’s cologne only makes you more wet for him. You can barely make it through lunch anymore. Trying your best to keep up with the conversation that you’re almost positive he’s phoning in as well, but it’s not easy when all you can think about is him stuffing you full on the bed that sits a dozen feet away. You’re desperate to make a move and terrified that any move you make will disrupt everything. 

You scour your books for some kind of clue on what to do next, how to make it impossible for him to say no - but there’s no obvious answer. With no experience to tell you that Negan was losing his goddamn mind waiting for you to make a move or proposition so that he could oblige it. 

He gets sick of waiting. Sick of drinking down his disgust with himself. It only makes the fantasies more vivid. Almost tangible and right there. All he really had to do? Touch you. And he knows it. 

He’d stopped getting you gifts and novels after that night, but today? Today he had something real fuckin’ special. 

You’re sitting across from him eating… only desserts? Weird choice, but still delicious. “What’s the occasion?” You ask, taking a bite of the strawberry shortcake set out in front of you. 

“Do I need a special occasion to treat my favorite girl?” He says it so casually, but he’s never said anything like that to you before. 

“Okay,” you breathe out a chuckle, “who are you and what have you done with my uncle?” 

“Woah now, ‘Uncle’?” The title made him visibly uncomfortable, but not because he didn’t like it. He was too far gone with you, and now anything that made it more taboo just spurred his hunger further. 

You breathe in deeply, as if you’d just confessed to something. Simply put, you had. He knows how bad you want it. He can smell it on you, and you didn’t care he was your family. Not even just your almost supposed ‘guardian’, no. You saw him as your uncle and you still wanted it. Bad. “Yeah, you are my uncle, aren’t you?” 

“That makes you my niece.” He says it like it’s news. Not understanding that he’s trying to gauge your reaction. 

For some reason, it makes your heart pound. Your ears get hot, and that same smile you’d tried to will away that night he’d forced a confession out of you (in the form of a moan at his touch) blossoms on your face. Pink cheeked and starry eyed, “It does,” you nod, you really don’t know any better, “Anyway, what’s all this about?” 

Negan scrambles for an answer that isn’t the one he can’t say out loud, “Missed your birthday, wanted to… make it up to you.” His voice is low, droning, and it makes you shift in your seat, crossing your legs. Negan notices and smirks at your body giving you away. You’re so easy. 

“Oh… thanks.” You take another bite of the shortcake before moving your fork to his plate to take a bite of chocolate cake. He lets you, he’s been letting you get away with so much more disrespect than he’d ever allow from anyone else. Telling himself that no teenager shouldn’t be getting away with little stuff like that, but really it’s because he likes it. He wishes you would take more control, and just ask him already. He’d wished for weeks that you would press yourself up against him like you had before he’d made you aware of your own feelings for him. And he hates that he told you that you weren’t allowed. That it was wrong. Because it is, but he doesn’t care anymore. 

He’s sick of waiting for you to understand how to make a move, “I got you a little something too.”

It’s almost unbelievable that he’d gotten this for you. One of the saviors had tried to smuggle it to keep for himself, and once Negan saw it… he couldn’t think of something better for you. “Now close your eyes,” he purrs. 

You slam your eyes shut and put out your hands eager to receive another gift. Feeling a hard plastic case being slipped into your fingers, “Now open them.” 

It was a… you had no idea. Looking up at him in confusion you’re met with a look of complete and total satisfaction from Negan. Smiling wide at your reaction. “What is it?” You whisper, smiling back. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll show you.” And he winks. He fucking winks. You’re a mess. You’re putty. You have no idea what this little pink egg shaped thing is, enclosed in the plastic balanced in your hands, but you know it’s something… different. He can tell you still have no clue what it is, what it’s for, but he sits and waits for your thanks. 

You can feel it, your legs tremble as you’re about to stand up but you stop yourself. You’re not supposed to flirt with him. And he told you that that’s what hugging him is. At least when you do it. You look to him, chewing on your lip, you want to feel him pressed against you so bad it’s making your knee bounce in anxious anticipation. You think about the fact that if you were hugging him you’d be able to smell his cologne even stronger, maybe you could even get away with kissing him on the cheek. After all, you could just blame it on the gift again. 

He’s just sitting there, leaned back in his chair, staring toward the window. It would be so easy to just… you get up and crash down into his lap. Draping your arms around him, pulling your face into the crook of his neck like you always do. This time is different, like everything else has been different since that night. You can’t will yourself to move. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze travels upward. All you can see is his neck, his chin still pointed away like he’s trying to hold himself together. You feel a guilt creeping into your periphery but it’s drowned out by the heat between your legs. Without even realizing you’re doing it, you plant your lips on his neck. 

He’s quick to react, his hand coming to grip your thigh just as instinctually as you had kissed him. Negan is sick of waiting, he was not built for this. “Do you want me to show you how to use your gift?” 

You’re melting, all your senses dizzy with his hand so firmly on your leg. Feeling his calloused palm through the tears in your stockings, your skin prickles. He puts his one arm underneath your legs and the other under your arms and picks you up, placing you gently back down in his chair. The suspense courses through you, tightening and moving to your limbs. The personification and embodiment of an exclamation point, you’re trembling as he stalks around the room. Taking the still unopened gift off of the table, you hear the click of the knife from behind you as he paces. He’s cutting into it as he leans down and breathes in your ear, “If you want me to stop, you tell me to stop, okay?” 

You nod in response, trying to swallow the knot in your throat.  He keeps talking, walking around to face you again as he gets the small mysterious device free from its packaging. “I fucked up with you,” you can tell he’s going to start monologuing like he always does, building up the anticipation you already can’t take. Your hands pulling at the hem of your skirt because you don’t know what else to do with them. “I want you to know that I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve really really fucked up your pretty little head.” As he speaks he moves back around behind you. Cheeks flushing at the compliment. He’d called you pretty. 

“But don’t worry, kid,” his voice in your ear feels like his stubble beneath your lips that you’ve imagined so many times, “I’m gonna fix you right up.”

His hand glides down your chest from above you and your body dramatically arches into his touch. Shivering as he moves his way down to one leg, pulling on your stocking to maneuver the limb onto the arm-rest. He does the same with the other, as if you’re some doll he’s positioning. You’re putty, not a single ounce of resistance inside of you. He moves his hand to lift up your skirt, letting it fall to your stomach. Unable to look at yourself in such a provocative position you close your eyes. 

“Holy shit, girl.” Negan’s smile devours him as he takes it all in. You’re not wearing underwear underneath your stockings, something he was absolutely not expecting. Your pretty pussy all smashed up against the mesh, your juices seeping through. In the light it almost sparkles. He’s never seen a damn thing like it. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and you were a shaking mess in his chair. Waiting so patiently for him to fix you. 

He had planned on putting the little vibrator against the fabric of your panties and stockings, and while he still could… he can’t stop himself from putting his warm hand between your legs instead. He doesn’t want to stop himself, he wasn’t built for that. Fuck the piece of shit vibrator and fuck all of his stupid fucking plans to take this slow. No, he knows what you really need. Him. 

His big hand comes to rest on top of your mound, pressing his fingers flat against the wet fabric of your stockings hard. The pressure.. the warmth.. your hands immediately shoot up from your sides grabbing his forearm as you gasp at the feeling. Pulling yourself even more flush against him, any piece of him you can get. 

You’re shaking, Negan can’t think straight. All plans out the window, that smell, he needs to taste you. He rubs his whole hand, all four warm fingers, against the sopping fabric in circles for only a few seconds before bringing his hand up to his nose and taking a deep breath in of your scent. (He won’t lick you from his fingers, that’s somehow beneath him.)

You whimper under his touch and whine when he pulls away, but you don’t move other than to put your arms flat against the armrests of the chair. He was going to fix you, right? So you submit, not really even understanding how to react to any of this. 

His dick is so hard against the fabric of his pants that it hurts. He tries to readjust, but it only makes him groan. Your neck cranes at the noise, but before you can get a look he’s in front of you, pulling up on the mesh directly above your heat, taking the knife he’d still been holding and cutting into it. The sound of the stockings tearing only makes Negan’s dick harder, revealing your glistening cunt like unwrapping a fucking present. Just for him, all for him. He did this… all of it. 

He rips the fabric more before pulling your hips closer to the edge of the chair and kneeling down on one knee. His face buries against you with a haste you weren’t expecting, your body shooting up at the feeling. So sharp and too much, you squirm against his tongue but he keeps you still. Growling into your cunt, “I said I’m going to take care of you, doll, so you have to let me.  Stop. Moving. Just…” his tone softens, and he kisses you sweetly on your hood, “relax.” 

Negan dives back in more gently this time, taking in the taste of you slowly. Drinking from you, he’s never tasted anything so sweet. So pristine. His tongue swathing in large laps against your lips, you’re trying your best to relax but your orgasm builds faster than you can tolerate. It felt like fucking magic, filling you with stars that buzzed all the colors of the rainbow. He flicks his tongue between your folds, directly onto that spot and your orgasm shoots through you like a bullet. From your core to the top of your head, no orgasm you’d ever had had felt like that. It left you wanting, it wasn’t enough. Your walls pulsate, gushing thick white perfect ecstasy into Negan’s mouth. He snickers against you, his nose resting gently on your still quivering clit. 

He doesn’t want to wait - picking you up like you weigh absolutely nothing, bringing you and your dizzy head to lay gently on his satin sheets. Bliss; and yet, you yearned. 

Inside. 

Your whole body shouting, the personification and embodiment of a fucking exclamation point. His belt clacks against your sensitive folds as he races to get himself inside.

And then, all of a sudden and just like that - you’re whole. His lips smashing into yours in a desperate need to claim every part of you. 

When he’d imagined it in his head you were naked, all skin and blush and like sweet honey coating his senses. It was all different, but he didn’t mind you like this. Clothing soaked with sweat and your own sweet nectar; he felt like he was in high school and he’s taking your virginity underneath the bleachers. All limbs and throbbing need and no time, no breath to waste.

 He kisses you deep and rough until you can’t breathe and you pull away, still adjusting to his size which you imagine is large from the discomfort inside of you, snaring itself into your vision like white flashes of electricity.

His first few labored thrusts hurt like you imagined it would, though it’s not like anything you’ve felt before. The burn of your walls stretching over him makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he purrs in your ear as he pulls out and slams into you harder. Tears sting your eyes as you nod into his shoulder, silently willing him to keep going. Don’t stop. He couldn’t stop even if you’d asked him too, your pussy is too wet, too hungry and swallowing him whole. He knows what you need, he can tell, even if you couldn’t. You need this. 

Negan is seeing fucking stars, your hole stretching so perfectly around him like it never needed anything more, “Fu-uck,” he’s not going to last 5 minutes. He leans back, taking your hips and pulling them off of the bed to stay attached to his while he fucks you like that. Your shoulders still down against the bed, you’d never read about a position like this and it hurts but you like it. Your eyes traveling down his body as he buries himself slowly into you. All the way to the hilt, and that’s when you see it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, causing him to look down and see what was going on but he had already pulled back. 

“Hm?” His tone is amused. 

“Do it again,” you whine. He smirks a brilliant flash of white teeth, before his face completely falters at the sight when he presses himself all the way into you again. Both of your eyes wide as the outline of his cock protrudes from your belly. 

“Jesus,” his voice is loud, it seems to vibrate your brain against your skull. He draws himself out of you and shoves back in - more unceremoniously than previous. He’d been trying his best to not hurt you, to take it as slow as he could manage; but seeing his hard length poke out of your body was too divine, way too fucking hot for him to not lose any semblance of control he’d had. 

Negan drowns you out, your loud screams, your hands clawing at his forearms, as he rails into you. Eyes fixed on your stomach as he watches; he doesn’t even realize you’re cumming until your hips shake violently in his grip. Your walls clench so tight his cock is pushed out. Negan clicks his tongue, as if you’d done something wrong. Moving himself in position back on top of you, his elbows coming to rest above your shoulders, his whole being swallowing you up. Your arms and legs wrap around him to try and still your shaking body as he ruts up and into you like a wild animal, his breathing jagged, his movements much less languid. Rough and desperate and all consuming. 

Using your body like a toy to get himself off, he’s hardly paying attention anymore. Grunting curses that you’re trying to memorize through a hazy veil of satisfaction.

He’s. Falling. Apart.  

And it’s wet and hot and so deep inside you that you can feel it in your fucking throat. You scream, loud, as he empties himself inside you.

Quickly, too quickly, he pulls himself out. He wants to watch his seed spill out and onto the gray sheets. You’d said you fucking sucked at painting, but Negan thinks this is the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever fucking seen. His cum dripping out of your freshly and newly used pussy in soft glistening strings to pool underneath of you, the white in stark contrast to the dark fabric is something real fuckin’ special. 

He’s smiling, kneeling above you with his hands on your stockinged knees as he watches between your legs. You’re in another world, on another planet and lost in your senses. It was everything you’d dreamed it’d be. Heaven. 

Negan had every intention on this being a one time thing. After all, hysteria was curable - but as he lays back on the bed to catch his breath he’s already caught dreaming about you in every position, any way he can place you. His perfect little toy, all just for him. Only his. 

[resident-idiot-simp]

BROOOO I FORGOT WHISTLER HAD CANCER IN THE FIRST BLADE MOVIE.

We appreciate easy angst in this household.

Blade who smelled the cancer on Deadpool as soon as he was near and it broke his heart as he remembered his mentor. Then when he reluctantly enjoyed the idiots company and even more so when he saved them from the void.

He asked Logan about it one day. Logan too knew the smell and he to was worried.

One day Logan and Blade were hanging out in Wade's apartment while he was out collecting money for a job he and Logan finished. Althea just casually asked when the cancerous tumor would be back.

Blade and Logan looked at one another with wide eyes. "You know about the cancer?" Logan asked tentatively.

"Of course I do one of the first things he told me when I met him. He had super cancer and now he couldn't die."

Logan looked positively startled. Blade spoke up next. "What does the cancer have to do with him not dying?"

"Oh he's dying he's constantly dying. It's just he's constantly regenerating cancer. Pretty sure it's because of you actually Logan or at least this world's Logan."

Logan looked at Blade with big eyes and Blade was even more curious now. Blade likes Althea she reminded him of Whistler in her own ways.

"What do you mean It's because of me?" Logan asked sounding as if he dreaded the answer.

"Off shoot of Weapon X got him if I remember right he said they used your DNA." Al said flippantly.

Logan felt his heart drop and a growl threatened to escape his throat and Blade held back a hiss.

"How did the offshoot get him?" Blade asked. Al sounded somber then as she answered. "The cancer. He was dying he was desperate and they convinced him they would save his life and cure it make him a hero."

Logan couldn't stop the growl then and Blade bared his own fangs with a hiss of displeasure.

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Go Yeong and Umma

I was chased around, threatened, bullied and emotionally manipulated for months to write this piece, so @lurkingshan, this one's for you. *please release my family*

When I was reading the book, in Part 1, I remember being frustrated with Young as a narrator because of how standoffish he seemed with his descriptions of the people in his life (except Jaehee – Mi Ae in the show). I wanted to understand the emotional distance I felt in his words. And I got my answer in Part 2, where the relationship with his Umma was laid bare for us to see. The structure of this section was so smart, for it established the roots of his behavior in his childhood with Umma, and linked it to how it shaped the relationship he currently had with Hyung. Seeing it come to life on screen in the episodes this week was a treat to watch.

It becomes evident that Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma is complicated as soon as we see them interact on screen. She is steadfastly religious, someone who believes that miracles can cure things that humans sometimes deem incurable, like cancer. We could easily infer from what we’ve seen of Go Yeong so far that she would not approve of his life.

Before I get into how her opinions and actions affect and influence Go Yeong, I wanna fully break down some of the objective facts we know about her:

She divorced her husband after he stepped out of their marriage and didn’t even have the courage to tell her about his infidelity

She is a single mother

She is an entrepreneur (in fact, we see her working from her bed in the hospital in multiple scenes)

She is religious and believes in the power of God

She is proud of her son

She loves her son

The last two points come with the biggest asterisks, because if she loves and feels pride for her son, how could she make him feel so alone? And now I shall try to explore this woman’s psyche to the best of my abilities, with a little bit of help from my personal experiences and therapy sessions I’ve paid money for over the years.

When we try to picture a homophobic parent, the image that our brain usually conjures up is often one-dimensional. (Note: This is NOT AN EXCUSE. I’m not trying to justify her actions. I am simply trying to understand why she did the things she did, by placing the context of the events of her life around them.) It is easier to process our emotions re: bad parents who hurt their children when we view their actions as simple. “They could’ve chosen not to do it and yet they did, so I hate them” is the conclusion that is the easiest to arrive at. That doesn’t make it untrue, but oftentimes, it is not the whole truth. Life is rarely, if ever, that simple, and our parents can truly love us while also rejecting fundamental parts of who we are, and never reconcile the two.

We see in the show the circumstances under which Yeom Eun Suk (Umma) finds out about her husband’s affair. She and little Go Yeong observe him from the sidelines, hidden, and see him smile like he had never done in all the time he had spent with them. We see Eun Suk feeling crushed by the implication that whatever love and happiness she thought she had had in her life with her husband was all potentially a farce. The fact that she chose to separate from him implies a couple of things: 1. She had strength and resourcefulness to provide for her son as a single mother in a restrictive patriarchal society like South Korea, and 2. She understood that staying in the unhappy marriage would only make her bitter and would affect her son more negatively than him growing up with a single parent.

She was brave enough to make those choices, and yet was still bound by her sense of propriety molded by society, and her faith. I’ve had a dynamic relationship with faith throughout my life, but I understood pretty quickly that questioning one’s faith is a particularly painful experience. Faith is supposed to be the solace one could turn to during trying times. When one is forced by circumstance to question their faith, it leaves them unmoored on the inside and further isolated on the outside. Eun Suk was already isolated to a certain degree by her divorce and her single motherhood. From what we learned in the book, there’s a history of cancer diagnoses in her family, so I would posit that she had been in Go Yeong’s shoes before, caring for her terminally ill parents in the past. Which is additional trauma from caregiving in her young adulthood that would’ve shaped her life. So I understand Eun Suk not questioning her faith when it was shaken.

She rebuilt her life and community by pursuing her faith—attending church, making friends who shared those values, and idolizing the Christian heteronormative lifestyle even after it failed her. She followed the rules dictated by her faith and community with utmost devotion, including building an entire business around heteronormative romance, in part because she had already transgressed by breaking up her own family and needed to prove she was not bucking that ideal or rejecting the church’s teachings with her choices. We see her take care of her appearance over and over when she is in the hospital after her first diagnosis and surgery, and it is yet another sign of her conformity and dedication to presenting a certain picture of her life. I understand why she would see her teenage son kissing a boy as a blemish on “a life deemed beautiful by God” and panic. I understand why she would think a psychiatric facility would help her son, and that it was her duty to try. (Note: once again, I am not justifying her actions, I am trying to understand them. Conversion therapy is deplorable and my heart goes out to everyone who has been subjected to it, including Go Yeong.) Eun Suk’s faith saved her by giving her purpose and community after her husband’s betrayal, but it also told her that her son, in his queerness, is fundamentally flawed. And like most people in this world, she chose not to rethink her entire life, and instead chose to believe that it is her duty to save her son from homosexuality and guide him to righteousness via the same path that saved her own life, ultimately traumatizing him. Hello, intergenerational trauma, my old friend!

@lurkingshan has already discussed the kdrama-fication of Part 2, with the increased intensity of Go Yeong’s romance with Hyung/Yeong Su. Expanding on that, I think the show’s depiction of Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma rounded out the sharp edges of Young’s cynical tone from the book. We see her enjoy spending time with him. We see her joke around with him. We see her read her child with uncanny precision that mothers seem to have when she asked him “Why are you sulking like a child?”, when he was, in fact, sulking like a child. We see her observe and deduce that her son is probably seeing someone, and that someone is likely a man. Which then leads to her asking “Must I meet them?” when Go Yeong suggests a meeting with Yeong Su in the park. She runs from direct confrontation of her son’s sexuality, and yet diligently copies Bible verses, hoping for a miracle.

Eun Suk sees her son’s queerness as her own failure, and Go Yeong, in turn, sees his righteous anger towards his Umma, as his. She is so proud of him that she saves newspaper clippings of his achievements, but she is also ashamed that she couldn’t “save” him. She loves him within the confines of her faith. It’s not enough for Go Yeong, but it’s the best she can do; their relationship remains at an impossible impasse.

Yeong Su’s presence in this section is interesting because in addition to his primary role of serving as the broody, tortured creative who swept Go Yeong up in a whirlwind romance, he also serves as a parallel to Umma’s traits. When Yeong Su exclaims that “someone like [Go Yeong] couldn’t even imagine [his struggles]”, it rang eerily close to Umma telling her son “Don’t try too hard. Everyone must go sometimes”. The expression of disdain is the same, but in Yeong Su it reads hollow, as a pretentious assumption, while with Umma it registers as tired disappointment that Go Yeong would’ve surely felt as heavy as a boulder.

After finishing the book, I found myself going back to a particular paragraph:

...[I] was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life. She just happened to be unlucky. In other words, the fact that our relationship had been so terrible was as natural as cancer or fungus or the rotation of our planet or sunspots. I knew this, but the feeling that she was the source of all my problems kept nagging at me. I kicked myself for thinking this about a dying person, someone who was only skin and bones at this point, but the thought refused to leave my mind.

It took me a long time to reach the acceptance Sang Young Park has put in words here. The fact that my trauma is an unfortunate byproduct of the life my parents had lived, and was not premeditated or fuelled by hate, was a hard and unfair pill to swallow. I want to grab Go Yeong and tell him that it is okay if he can’t ever forgive his Umma. Time will wash over his hurt and let him love her, even without the apology he deserves from his Umma. And I hope that, one day, he can learn to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his mother.

[unforth]

Alright I'm gonna try to keep this brief but things have progressed enough that they're definitely going to impact my ability to do even my basic online shit so here's wtf has been going on.

A week and a half ago, I found out my dad was very sick. He'd been keeping it a secret. A week ago, my brother came and bullied dad to go to the hospital. He had a systemic infection that would have been fatal left untreated and he also has prostate cancer (which he knew but hadn't told us). He's been hospitalized since; he was discharged yesterday to in-patient rehab because he can't even sit up without help. He is 83 and expected to recover, though if he'll reach 100% is iffy.

His wife, my step-mother, has Alzheimers that has gotten quite advanced. Dad is her sole caretaker (surely why he risked death to stay home with her). She cannot be left alone. With him unable to care for her, my brother, step-brother, and I are juggling her care, but she threatened my brother with a knife so he won't stay with her (she didn’t know who he was, thought he'd broken in to attack her), and I live 2.5 hrs away and step-brother can't do it entirely solo (like. He doesn't drive. He can't get her to appointments or anything) . She needs a long-term not-at-home solution and while dad has been saving money to make that happen, no actual steps had been taken yet.

And I discovered yesterday that I have her power of attorney while dad is incapacitated, which means the legal decisions and responsibility for getting her help are all on me.

Needless to say, that's a lot of pressure and is time consuming, especially factoring in the distances involved - the area where we're looking to place her is 3+ hr drive for me.

And I've still got my own family, two kids, our house and life, and @duckprintspress

I. Might be just a little stressed the fuck out right now.

So. Apologies in advance if I fall behind on anything or fuck anything up. I'm stretched about as far as I can be, and then stretched a bit more just for funsies and The Bit.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for starting shit with a 15 year old??

Alrighty here’s our cast:

I’m OP, I’m 19 years old, I’m FtM trans but not out nor have I started transitioning medically. I’ve graduated but live at home while I attend college

I have a little sister named “Janet”, she’s 16 and a sophomore. She’s popular, friendly, and had a big friend group

Janet has a friend named “Amy” who’s 15. Amy is the kid I think I started beef with

Okay for the story;

Janet is the leader of her group. She’s got the strongest personality and is the most sociable. Almost all the kids in her group are comfortably upper class while Janet and I are sitting very middle class. It’s always very jarring when I drop Janet off at a friend’s house and it’s a literal mansion.

Amy is who introduced Janet to this group, but it became quickly very clear that Amy has never been told “no” in her life. She’s controlling, spoiled, and jealous. Now, I’ve hung out with Amy before (Janet was there too, we were at a get together and Amy tagged along with us) and she’s a sweet girl, but definitely a product of her environment.

Now, over the last few weeks, things have spiraled out of control for that group. Amy got a boyfriend and has been repeatedly picked to spend time with him and made her friends (Janet’s group) feel like shit about it. Her boyfriend was always invited to group things, but Amy refused to let him join. She cited the other girls (who are all either lesbians or dating other boys) as trying to “steal her man”. She’s very insecure about herself and I genuinely feel bad for her

Recently, she’s been left out of group activities because she chose not to attend, but then later would send the group hateful messages on social media or would vague post about them being pieces of shit because they didn’t insist that she attend. Janet’s been under fire the most along with another girl named “Christina”. Amy even went as far as to out Christina as bisexual on Snapchat because Christina pointed out that Amy could have attended their Halloween party at any time as it lasted for seven hours

So Amy’s a mess.

Now, recently (again), Janet started talking to a boy we’ll call “Jeremy”. Jeremy’s a sweet guy, he’s in band, he’s still a dork because he’s a high school sophomore, but he’s still a cool kid. One day, Jeremy sends a bunch of screenshots to Janet from Amy. Amy, who has a boyfriend as mentioned above. Amy was not only flirting with Jeremy, but also talking shit about me and my family. She called my mom fat, said my dad was lying about having cancer (he’s a terminal colon cancer patient), called my twin sister an ugly control freak, and me a “gay whore who acts like a man” (LMAOOOO).

Here’s where I may be the asshole. I got Amy’s number from Janet’s phone and sent her what’s basically an essay calling her out for these insults and also threatening to screw her parents. I told her to never contact Janet again and that I hope she got over her insecurities. I know her insults weren’t directed towards me nor was I supposed to see them, but I can’t stand people talking about my family. I know I shouldn’t have contacted her, especially behind Janet’s back, but I wanted to defend myself and my family

Anyways, if I’m voted the asshole for sticking my nose in high schoolers’ business, I’d completely understand

🧐

^^^ so I can find this again 😭

What are these acronyms?

[thursdayinspace]

another random question but what do you think would have happened if scully had never gotten abducted?

i love this question. i mean, long-term, it would have changed *a lot*. no cancer arc, which would be the biggest and most obvious change. but what would it have changed right then and there? the abduction definitely impacted their partnership and their friendship.

in one way, it brought things to the surface, especially for mulder. he wasn't unaware of her importance in his life before the abduction. telling his tape recorder that he could only trust himself and now he can only trust her? telling her that the only reason he could see to stay with the fbi was if they were working together? he was already relying on her presence in his life. a lot. but when she was taken from him, i think he felt a fear and despair that he would not have anticipated. it's one thing to know you need someone who is right there, and who will set up secret meetings in a parking garage, and who, even if you *can't* right now, is someone you know deep down you *could* reach out to. it's another thing to need someone who is gone.

so in that way, i think he did become aware that he was feeling more than he had realized. and that realization definitely had an impact on their relationship. but there's another side to it:

the abduction was the first time he became aware of *his* role in *her* life. and what he saw there wasn't good. because mulder being mulder, of course he takes responsibility, of course he blames himself. the fact that none of it was his fault doesn't matter. this is when he realizes that their quest, *his* quest, is putting her in real, life-threatening danger. and that thought never leaves him again. we see that guilt that takes root in his mind there all the way up into the revival. so that is a huge thing. he would have eventually found other things to blame himself for. mulder takes things personally and holds himself accountable for things that are completely outside of his control. so if it hadn't been this, it would have been something else. because things would still have happened to her. but being abducted and being gone for that long and coming back on the brink of death? that, for lack of a better expression, really fucked them both up in a big way.

so, what is my answer to your question? i don't know. i mean, for one, scully's side of the story is still completely missing from this. i find that a lot harder to unpack. if anyone wants to analyze that, i'd love to hear your thoughts! but also, both these things i talked about could have affected them in any number of ways. it comes down to likelihoods and probabilities. in the end you never know for sure how a person will react to a situation until after they've done it. and you don't know how not going through an experience might change them. and no headcanon any of us might have will tell the story as it would have happened with 100% certainty because human behavior is simply too complex and complicated to predict with any kind of accuracy.

if mulder hadn't been pushed through external circumstances to confront his feelings in that way, if he hadn't carried her cross, held her hand fearing it might be the last time, that would have taken a huge weight off both of them. there might have been a greater ease to their relationship. mulder wouldn't be feeling that guilt. scully wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of all of that. the abduction, in my opinion, brought them closer to each other, but also served as an obstacle on their way forward, because it's quite something to move on from, more so since it brought feelings to the surface that neither of them was ready for.

*i personally* think the abduction strengthened the bond between them but weakened the foundation of their relationship. because of that added guilt and the fact that they were not ready to confront certain feelings. i think his fear of losing her is something that came to define him. and he kept almost losing her. if that hadn't happened? things between them could have progressed at an easier pace. their friendship, and the love they feel for each other. but honestly, i have no idea. but i had a lot of fun thinking about this.

[prince-liest]

The more comfortable I get with the inpatient workflow (knowing how to order things, how certain things work and are done, how to navigate the EMR, etc), the more happy I am to realize that inpatient rotations aren't actually all that bad in terms of the work of them. They suck specifically because they are exhausting 12-13 hour days, 6 days a week and you simply do not get to have a life while you're on this rotation but while I'm at the hospital, it's pretty much fine.

I wish I had the time and energy to work out and also not eat two out of my three meals every day of hospital food, and more time to rest, but I'm also relieved that I definitely do not actively dread or fear going to work every day like I was worried I might. Like, it sucks, but it's not active misery, yfm? My spirits are high. Definitely not super tenable, though.

Also, I have ED next and honestly fuck the emergency department. So glad there are people out there that enjoy emergency medicine, but I am simply not ADHD enough for that shit. I didn't have any bad shifts on my first ED rotation but I still disliked the whole workflow and baseline stress levels.

Anyway, things that did stress me out this week (CW dire hospital shit):

lady who kept threatening to leave the hospital against medical advice because she hated being there that much, even though she had an infection for which she needed an IV-only antibiotic or else she would almost certainly die. everything kept going wrong. she could go home with a central or midline cath; her line was peripheral; picc team couldn't put in a picc line because of her surgical history, so we had to go to interventional radiology and put in a Hickman line; we found this out on Friday and so she wasn't scheduled until Monday; on Monday she almost got moved to the next day because there was an emergency bleed during her time that IR was needed for and she said if we didn't get her scheduled in 45 minutes she was leaving the hospital. ended up discharging her at like 6pm on Monday and I ended up crying at work on Friday (the 13th! yay,,) in the resident library which surprised even me but apparently I'm not immune to "so WHAT if I die?? what do I have to live for? cancer and pain?" after three days of doing my best to juggle "doctor" with "therapist" every time I saw her. she likes me a lot which I think means I did a decent job but that really ran out my emotional energy.

the dude whose nurse called me three times in 45 minutes while I was trying to juggle discharging the above lady and doing my first admit. he was throwing things at the walls in his room because he wanted a cough drop and simply could NOT wait. what the fuck ever.

[phthalology]

“Will you help me?” The wound is not life-threatening. But sometimes letting someone else care for you isn’t about necessity.

“Lot of fuss about Ghosts lately,” said Drifter, and he sat down bonelessly on the lush grass of the Pale Heart.

Ikora didn’t move. She stared at the pool where the Speaker’s orrery had once spun. “Of course there is. Ghosts were the ones who destroyed the Witness, in the end.” 

It all gave Drifter the creeps. To look at the Pale Heart was to look at a tyrant’s idea of paradise, an endless growth inside a glass-walled prison. Cancer in a greenhouse. Other people found it comforting, for some reason. “And how is that sitting with you, with Ophiuchus as he is?”

Ikora laughed softly. “With me as I am, you mean.”

“It takes two.”

“That’s the point,” Ikora said. “If I had been with the Guardians who dealt the final blow, would Ophiuchus have been there for me? I don’t know. But I won’t give that to new Lights as a lesson. We need confidence now.”

“Ha, I guess there might be new little Lights after this who never even knew the Witness. Weird that the Traveler would keep making ‘em. Talk about a lack of confidence.”

“With that aurora in the sky and who knows what coming next, maybe we’ll need more Guardians after all.” Finally, she looked at him, with a directness that made him wonder what he had come here to say in the first place. 

Ghosts, sure. Even Eris was buddy-buddy with Immaru now. That Micah was a regular home for orphaned Ghosts. Drifter couldn’t shake his initial impression of his own Ghost as a tool, a vindictive resurrection machine that thought of humanity as a gun it could field-strip or fire dirty until a mechanical piece gave out. So, he’d made his Ghost into the same, striking first. Drifter had no doubt his muzzled Ghost would have fired at the Witness, because he’d have ordered it to. 

“I could use the near end of the world as an excuse to reconnect with Ophiuchus,” Ikora said. “But it’s been so long … I don’t know what sign I gave that let us reach this place, he and I. I don’t know what sign could bring us back together.”

“Ask him to help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“It doesn’t have to be world-saving help.” Drifter gestured up at the vines built of memory, at the place where outside the real Tower, the Traveler had once floated. “Just a little favor.” He sleight-of-handed a coin-sized stone eye, one of the strange pieces of detritus he’d found in the Pale Heart, out of his sleeve and across his knuckles. “A little gift.” 

Fact is, the Drifter had a little bit of that Warlock magic nowadays. He did not care what class any Guardian of this temporary age would call him, but between the Light and the Dark, he knew things even more than usual. Now, he knew Ikora was thinking of giving that heavy, little stone eye to her Ghost, trying to wrest some meaning out of the collision of Drifter’s Dark Age history and the wilderness of Light she walked. 

Her thoughts itched against his like someone stroking a feather along the inside of his skull. 

How do you stand this? He thought. Hearing other people’s brains going?

Peel thoughts apart with careful fingers, said Ikora. 

Her mental voice was somehow the exact opposite of her piercing looks. Eyes like stars, heart like the jet off a black hole. Some strange genius in between. Drifter remembered what he had come here to say. “Look, anyway, I’m setting up a Gambit arena in that little beachy spot underneath the Blooming. Forgiveness, permission, you know. Thank you, good night.” And away he would amble, neat and peachy clean, on the side of the Light and with a neat little side gig too. Only problem in the world was Guardians kept asking him if he could make some sort of tincture or moonshine out of Dread, and he’d have to say again that he didn’t do that stuff for fun, there were plenty of plants and regular supply runs in the Pale Heart now, eat those while you can, you sick freaks. 

Ikora caught his intent to amble before it even started. “So, you’re telling me I need to let Ophiuchus see I care, even after the world didn’t end.”

Drifter looked over her shoulder. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far. World might still end.” 

Ikora tossed the stone eye in the air. It floated above her palm. “I just don’t know how to do it,” she said, shoulders slumped. “How to let him help me. I can’t hug him like I can Cayde or Zavala.” She looked up, and Light her features looked different when she was about to cry, puffy and reddening. “Will you help me?”

He almost sighed with how badly he wanted to make some joke about the great Vanguard asking him for help. But he and the Vanguard hadn’t played those roles in a long time, not really. 

Without touching her, he slid his palm between her hand and the stone. He tried, Light he tried, for the first impression she received not to be of his constant urge to run as he opened his mind to hers. 

Look, he tried, clumsily. Do this. Remember the victory your people just brought you. You’re alive and Zavala is alive, and Ophiuchus and them. Remember they’re — Except he couldn’t hide anything. They’re not gonna stay forever.

Except Ikora wrestled that thought back, thinking of the people who had stayed. When she took a breath, his own lungs expanded, mechanically linked to her body now that their neurons thought they were the same brain. Could you do this to kill somebody? Drifter thought.

Ikora took another breath which had a distinct note of disapproval in it. Or maybe that disapproval came from his breath, his vicious hatred for what the Traveler had made him.  

Then Ikora found a memory of great love, of love like a field of yellow flowers under gentle sun. Gold filigree on his shell. Drifter pulled away, prey-beast startled by the second-hand affection of the Ghost. He had completely ignored his sight during the mind-meld and had to blink against the Pale Heart’s fake day. 

Ikora smiled like she hadn’t in years. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I’ll show him,” she said, looking sidelong at the Drifter. “Thank you.”

“You got us most of the way there,” he muttered. 

Ikora gave another unlikely smile, looking so gentle and comforted it shamed him. He saw in one of their minds’ eyes her hands holding the purple-and-gold shell to her cheek. Then the Light untangled from them, leaving him not sure who had tangled it in the first place — Ikora or himself or the Traveler, giving those orders it called blessings. 

Well, Ophiuchus would maybe be more likely to be around when Ikora needed him now, and she hadn’t said no to the new Gambit arena either. Off he ambled, Ikora behind him happy. 

[hamliet]

Hamliet, can I ask what do you think of Judas Iscariot? I just heard my mom told my little niece so she don't end up like Judas Iscariot the "Traitor". Like I think it's so sad to become doom since birth. But without his actions there would not be crucifixion, right? Now when I become an adult I felt sorry for him.

And as Christian, I'm embarrassed that my Church still support Is**el even until now because that is what the Bible said, like WTF....

Also, I'm glad when I read your meta, that I'm not the only one who think David is bisexual....

To start with, yeah. That's awful. I grew up in a church with similar views. That's a very uncritical view of Scripture, to the point where it denies the authenticity/power of other aspects of the Bible in favor of literalism (and in favor of earthly powers like nation-states, which is all too often at the root of a lot of evil done in the name of not just Christianity, but any religion). The Bible tells everyone to love thy neighbor as yourself and to welcome people. Christian nationalism is a cancer and responsible for a lot of the support for the government of Israel in the US. But that again centers power, not Christ.

For Judas... well. I'm sorry your niece got told that; unless she's threatening to sell your mom or her friends out to the state for the death penalty I don't think that's a fair accusation lol.

Putting under the cut because I'm gonna talk theology!

But to get back to Judas, it actually connects to what I said above a bit--namely, earthly powers. I think Judas was well-intentioned and tragic. When Jesus entered the gates of Jerusalem the week prior to the crucifixion, everyone was shouting "Hosanna!" and laying down olive branches because they believed he was the Messiah, whom they believed would oust the Roman Empire who had been oppressing them. And them wanting the Romans gone was, to put it mildly, very valid.

But that wasn't what Jesus came to do in the Gospels. He came to do more than they could ask or think--instead of liberating them from earthly powers of oppression and moving on to spiritual ones, he started with the spiritual first (the ones we humans cannot hope to counter). He conquered death itself. But to do that, he had to die. As humans, we can't conquer death on our own--it's a natural part of life, and yet paradoxically, everyone who has ever lost someone close to them knows how unnatural death is.

That isn't to say Jesus didn't care about the earthly powers. I think he does. But he gave people the Holy Spirit to help move earthly powers; the sad thing is that the Church has all too often joined forces with them instead of, you know, reconsidering. But power is a very appealing idea, because at the heart of power comes justification and affirmation of the ones in power.

To bring it back to Judas--I honestly think there's a very good chance he was among the people who made the assumption Jesus would liberate them from Roman rule. Actually, it's pretty clear in Scripture that most if not all the disciples thought this, which is why they didn't seem to "get" the fact that he literally told them he was going to die over and over. And so Judas took matters into his own hands and handed Jesus over, hoping that this would jumpstart the revolution. Except it didn't, and Judas regretted it.

I also think it's worth noting that almost all the disciples, including Judas, were under 20 years old. At that time if they were older than 20, they would have been married. Peter is the only disciple who is said to be married; it's also plausible Matthew was older than 20 thanks to being a tax collector. The rest almost certainly were not.

So think of Judas as being like, 17-19 here. Idealist kiddo thinking he knows best and can save the world, who has grown up under occupation and seen the abuses that causes first hand, hopes to not only be liberated (a good hope) but to be in power himself; what's wrong with taking steps to force this to happen? I think it's more than understandable why he did what he did, and thought he was justified. I don't know I'd think differently.

But he wasn't. An innocent man was crucified. Yet from that act, the world was offered resurrection, a chance at a new life. From the evil, God turned it to good. Judas, it seems, didn't stick around long enough to see that.

However, that doesn't mean that Judas is in the deepest circle of hell for ever and ever. We don't know that. There is another verse in the Bible that states that Jesus is reconciling "all things" to himself. And the word for all means all, as in everything, everywhere, every time. I've got to think that means Judas, too.

[the-halloween-jack]

The Day Before ➳ Damon Salvatore x TerminallySick!reader One-Shot

Synopsis: The reader knows she is dying and to save Damon the pain of her death she makes an extremely difficult decision.

Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Death. 

Masterlist

A/N: This is my first time writing for Damon Salvatore, hopefully this is the first of many.

Words: 1,538

Y/N’s heart sunk as she glanced down at the beads of blood glistening on the tissue she clutched in her hand, she had received news the day before that her cancer had metastasised to her lungs, though she did not realise that her condition would worsen so swiftly. 

Y/N knew she would not be able to hide it for much longer, every day she became more crippled and with every passing moment her façade threatened to unveil. 

Her friends had experienced too much loss and the idea of adding to it made her stomach churn sickeningly. She would not allow them to grieve her; which is why she was leaving. 

Through clouded eyes she began bundling all of her possessions into a small suitcase, she did not pay much mind to what she grabbed, it would not need to last her very long. 

Though when she reached a small photo album sitting on her bedside table her heart jolted, with shaking hands she flipped open the small winsome book, and sure enough, smiling back at her were the faces of her beloved friends. 

She brushed her fingers over each and everyone of their grins, smiling through her tears as she recalled the moment she had taken it. Though her hand halted when she reached the last face, she could have sworn she felt her heart beating in her throat.

Damon.

It had not yet occurred to her that she would never see him again. The pain she felt at that realisation was crippling. She would never feel his gentle caress against her body or his lips on her cheek; Damon’s touch was lost on her forever. All that she had to carry her to her deathbed was his picture and her feeble memory, and that would never be enough.

Before she met him Y/N would not have believed a love so potent was possible, though she was very agreeably proved wrong. Even while living in Mystic Falls with all its theatrical and apprehensive infamousness, Y/N had never been happier. And that was entirely the work of Damon. 

Y/N knew her death would break him and she knew the kind of person Damon became when he was broken. If she left without an explanation he would eventually make his own assumptions and any assumption he made surely could not hurt him like the truth. 

She knew he would try and find her, she could only wish he was never successful. The decision she was making was far from easy, but it was easier than knowing he was mourning for her; hurting because of her.

Damon was always abundantly clear on the life he wanted for them, he yearned to turn her and live for eternity at each other's sides. Though Y/N was never sure what she wanted, she did not want to be rash and he respected that. Though now any chance of her accepting his vision was lost perpetually. She could never become like him, the possibility was lost the moment she was diagnosed with cancer; vampire blood could not fix her now.

Y/N was riddled with guilt and regret, she knew she should have said yes when he first told her what he wanted; because now in the face of death, she yearned for it too. For months the abstraction of the undying life she could have had with Damon had been eating away at her. She laughed humourlessly at the malevolent irony of her situation.

Y/N could not bear to spend another second thinking of the near future and what could have been, so to ease her mind she thought of the day before. The day that, albeit unknowingly, would become their final moments together. It was not a grand affair, they had simply spent the day in each other's company. 

They watched TV, had a nap and Damon had even offered to cook dinner, and even though he failed miserably it had still meant so much to her. She believes he noticed she was feeling unwell and was doing what he could to make her better.

But it was the final moment that had meant the most to her; when he wrapped her in his arms at the end of the day as he was leaving and whispered that he loved her. Tears ran hot down her cheeks at the realisation that it would be the last time she heard him say those words. 

A sudden feeling of lightheadedness had Y/N rushing to sit on the edge of her bed, she should not be stressing herself out like this, she knew it would only worsen her condition. Though she could not stop the unfathomable feeling of guilt stewing within her, It made her sick; she could not leave him without so much as a goodbye. 

Going against everything she had planned since her diagnosis she turned to the messily packed suitcase and began unravelling it. 

Another wave of sickness overcame her, though this time disparate. Y/N felt her body go slack, her possessions slipping from her weak grasp and falling back into their places in the case. Her body slipped downwards from the bed and found itself docile against the floorboards. 

She had started coughing up blood again when the realisation crushed her. This was it. Just as she decided to see Damon karma unfurled its caustic tendrils and enveloped her. She swore she could feel the life depleting from her body. Y/N felt akin to a spectre as darkness shrouded her being like a void, plunging her into nothingness. She was lost to the world. Her glassy, lifeless eyes stared above her; forever immortalised with the fear of never seeing him again.

Y/N had not been answering her phone and Damon knew the consternation he felt brewing because of it was completely irrational, but he found himself headed to her house regardless; he wanted to see her anyway.

When Y/N’s house met his line of sight the sound of a lack of life immediately registered with him, he could not hear her breathing nor the beating of her heart and there was certainly no sound of her usual bustle. 

He concluded that she must not have been home, though before he could turn around to leave he noticed with furrowed eyebrows that her car was still in the driveway. He picked up his pace as he closed the rest of the distance.

He pushed open the creaking old door and when the smell of her exposed blood met him immediately, his heart was sent into a panicked frenzy. Before a second had passed he used his speed to send him straight into her bedroom. But the macabre sight on the floor halted him. He discerned that her skin was the colour of death and the stillness of her frame was much the same. 

He repudiated this thought as he felt the veins grow black beneath his eyes, his fangs coming to meet his wrist. He sped to her limp body and placed his bloodied arm against her cold lips, they remained unmoving. 

‘No...’ he barely gasped out, ‘You need to drink this Y/N, it’ll help you.’ 

He shook her shoulders, her whole body moving with the disruption. Damon’s vision dimmed through the welling of his tears. He forced her taut jaw wider trying to force down his blood. He choked down his sobs as he continued to plead with her.

‘Please drink, you need to drink… Please.’ 

His weeps quaked in his chest, unwillingly observing her lack of heartbeat. He removed his wrist from her lips, replacing it with his mouth and breathing air into her empty lungs. He placed his hands on her chest and tried desperately to recall the steps of resuscitation, but his efforts were futile. 

With an all-consuming sense of despair, his hands fell slack from her inanimate frame and he acknowledged what he had known all along. 

She was dead.

The sobs that passed his lips were inhuman in sound, with shaking hands he used the pad of his fingers to gently pull the eyelids over her glassy eyes. Damon then pulled her torso up to his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. 

For the first time since he had arrived the sight of a half-packed suitcase entered his concentration. He realised hollowly she had been trying to leave. She knew she was dying and was trying to leave anyway. He wanted to feel angry at her, but no emotion could supersede the severe sense of dejection he was under. 

Who knows how long he would have been living in blissful ignorance, thinking he resided in a sphere where she still existed, a world where she still lived. 

Damon knew he could not live in a world where she did not exist. This was a pain he could not overcome, a pain he would not overcome. Her death left his humanity in shreds, and Damon knew at once he could no longer function with it extant. His emotions left him like a flame getting put out, the enthralling love he had felt for her the day before all but a memory.

[madsworld15]

New One-Shot: a heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved

I'm on a roll! This one is my third prompt submission for the QaF Prompt Challenge 2024. This one is for the prompt: Brian comforts Justin after Jennifer dies. (Prompt #5) [3/21 for me personally]

Brian sat at his computer, pretending to work on the latest ad campaign for Brown Athletics. He might head up the New York office of Kinnetik now, but there were still a few Pittsburgh clients that he oversaw the work. Brown had followed him when he’d left Vanguard because of Leo Brown’s trust in him. Now, here they were 25 years later, and Brian was Leo’s favorite person. He should be working out the kinks of the new campaign, it had been a struggle for him, but instead, he was surreptitiously watching his partner, Justin.

Justin was moving about their brownstone as if he didn’t have a purpose. At 47, his world had just been flipped upside down. For the past year, Justin had racked up their airplane miles with his frequent trips to and from Pittsburgh to help care for his mom. Her breast cancer diagnosis had taken everyone by surprise. None more so than Justin. In the 30 years that Brian had known the blond, he’d never seen him completely listless like this before.

Though he’d never admit it, Justin needed his mom almost as much as he needed Brian. When things had blown up in his face at 17, Justin’s mom had stood by him and loved him no matter what, while his dad threatened to disown him, harm him, or worse. In all these years, Jennifer had been a stronghold in Justin’s life and by extension, Brian’s too. Now, she was gone, having passed away the night before, and Justin was lost. 

Brian stood up and silently walked over toward the younger man. As Justin’s steps brought him closer to Brian, he reached out and wrapped the blond up in his arms. Brian didn’t know what to say to ease Justin’s hurt. But he knew that words weren’t going to do anything anyway. Jennifer would still be dead, and Justin would still be heartbroken. 

So, Brian hugged the man he loved close to his chest and breathed him in. His slow, steady breaths calmed Justin’s own panicked breathing slowly and surely. Brian brought his hand up to cradle the back of Justin’s head and let his fingers tangle the locks of hair. He scratched Justin’s scalp gently to give the man reassurance that Brian was there and wasn’t going anywhere.

It had been a tough few years for both of them. Living in New York meant they were further away from their family than they would’ve liked. It also meant that they couldn’t immediately be there for said family when something went south. Like Hunter succumbing to AIDS despite doctors previously saying his drug regimen was working extremely well and that he was healthy considering. Then, one bought of pneumonia, and he was gone quicker than Brian and Justin could get on a plane to be there for Michael and Ben. Then, six months later, Justin’s mom had been diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer. 

At first, they’d been hopeful that the drugs were working and that surgery would keep her alive. Brian had paid for Jennifer to move in with them in New York so that she could get treated by the best doctors in the country. Then, the drugs stopped having an effect on her cancer, and the disease spread to her lungs. It had been a long, exhausting year. Her death, while devastating, had been a relief for everyone. Justin had been there at her bedside when she took her last breath.

“I can’t believe she is gone.” Brian heard Justin mumble into his chest. “Even as a kid, I thought she’d live forever.”

“She put up a good fight.” Brian cleared his throat around the thickness of his throat. He had loved Jennifer almost as much as Justin had.

Over the years, Brian and Jennifer had had their differences. Hell, after Justin was bashed, Jennifer blamed Brian almost as strongly as he blamed himself. She didn’t want him anywhere near her son. Over time they’d come to an understanding that Brian needed Justin as much as the young blond needed him. Jennifer came to love and respect Brian as an extension of her family. 

“Did I ever tell you about the conversation I had with your mom right after the bombing?” Brian whispered, pulling away slightly to look Justin in the eye.

“That was 25 years ago. What brought it up now?” Justin looked at Brian, confused.

Brian shrugged, “It was right after you rejected my proposal.”

“I bet she was relieved to hear I wasn’t running off to marry you. Back then, she was still unsure of how deep she wanted me to be in it with you.” Justin sniffed, placing his head back on Brian’s chest.

“Actually, she told me she was sorry I wasn’t going to be her son-in-law.” Brian gave a small smile. “I was surprised. She’d never admitted she cared about me that much before.”

Brian knew when Justin’s tears resumed because his shirt started to have patches of wetness on it. He gently gathered Justin and pressed him even deeper into his chest. If his embrace could take away Justin’s heartbreak, he’d squeeze him even tighter. But, instead, he knew the embrace was providing a level of comfort Justin could accept.

“Does anyone else know she’s died?” Justin pulled back from Brian’s chest to question him. “Besides Molly, I mean.”

When it had looked as though Jennifer’s time was running short, Justin had paid for his sister’s flight to New York so that she could be with her. It wasn’t that Molly couldn’t buy her own ticket; it was just that with three kids and a husband in the military, finances were a bit tighter for her than they were for Brian and Justin. So, Molly had flown in and stayed in the second guest bedroom of their brownstone. Brian knew Justin wasn’t saying it, but it had helped him tremendously to have his mom and sister both here during this past week. 

Speaking of Molly, the woman came out of her room. Her eyes were red, puffy, and bloodshot, too. She took one somber look at Brian embracing Justin, and forced a half smile. 

“I haven’t called anyone yet,” Brian responded. Then to Molly, he added,  “There is coffee in the kitchen if you want some.” 

“I just called Dad,” Molly mumbled. “He gave his condolences.”

“I’m sure he did,” Justin grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Just like he gave his regards when I almost died at my senior prom.”

“He actually sounded upset.” Molly tried to advocate for Craig Taylor, but she was speaking to a brick wall. Their father might have always been great to her, but in Justin’s eyes, he was the worst person the blond had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

“We appreciate you making that call, kid.” Brian stepped in before Justin could snip at his sister again. “Should I call Debbie?”

“No.” Justin pulled out of Brian’s arms completely, “I will. It’ll be better coming from me.”

“Justin.” Brian tried to object, but his partner was already pulling out his phone and walking toward their bedroom for privacy.

“He’s never been good with death.” Molly shrugged. “When our grandma died, he locked himself in his room until our Dad forced him to come out. I was only four, but I remember it.”

Brian nodded, “He’s just put so much of his energy this past year into taking care of her. I worry that he’s not going to handle it well in the coming days.”

“He’s got you.” Molly pointed out and then added as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “Even if you don’t always believe it, you’re the best thing that ever happened to my brother. He’s a better person because he has you to lean on. Mom knew that. It’s why she loved you so much.”

Brian fought back his own tears at that. He’d known for years that Jennifer considered him up there with her own blood children. But, to hear her daughter confirm it showed him that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. With a quick clearing of his throat and a wipe to his eyes, Brian headed toward the bedroom to provide Justin with physical support.

He quietly opened the door and found Justin on their bed. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, just staring at his phone. When he looked up, Brian saw new tears glistening in his eyes. He quickly crossed the room and wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t do it. I tried to open my phone and dial her number, but I couldn’t.” Justin sobbed. “How is she still alive, but my mom isn’t?”

Brian paused for a minute, processing Justin’s words. He knew that Justin wasn’t blaming Debbie for still being alive. The question was more aimed at why Jennifer had to be dead at all. Brian’s heart broke even more, and his tears finally came.

“I don’t know.” He whispered and kissed the side of Justin’s head, letting his tears fall upon blond locks.

The two sat there silently crying for what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes. Then, Brian cleared his throat, grabbed Justin’s phone, and dialed the number. He put the phone up to his ear and used his other arm to squeeze Justin’s shoulder in comfort.

“Hey, sunshine!” Debbie’s cheerful voice came through the speaker. At the sound, Justin let out another sob.

“Hey, ma,” Brian responded. 

“Brian, what's wrong?” Debbie was suddenly on high alert. “Why are you calling me from Justin’s phone?”

Brian sniffed and squeezed his eyes shut against his own tears, “Jennifer died last night.”

“Oh, goodness. I will light a candle at church for her.” Debbie whispered. “Do you boys need anything?”

Justin heard Debbie’s words and mumbled, “I need my mom back.”

“Brian, give him hugs from me and the rest of the family. Do you want me to let everyone else know?” Debbie’s voice was her gentle mother's tone, and Brian appreciated its warmth spreading over him.

“If you want. If not we will be reaching out to more people a little later on.” Brian shrugged despite Debbie not being able to see.

“Why don’t you let me worry about all that? You just focus on Justin. He’s going to need you.”

“Yes, mom.” Brian intoned.

“Good boy. I love you both.” Debbie ended the call, and Brian dropped the phone. He brought his other arm around the front of Justin and pulled the man closer against his side. 

“I miss my mom.” Justin cried again. 

“I know,” Brian whispered, placing another kiss to the side of Justin’s head. Brian would give up every last penny he owned if it could take away this pain. 

“Your mom was a hell of a force. There were times when she terrified me. Like the time she marched into my office with your things and yelled at me. She didn’t want me anywhere near her precious little boy at the time, but she preferred my place to the streets.” Brian whispered as Justin continued to cry.

“Then there was the conversation we had when I officially sold my loft, for real. You don’t know this, but she told me then that she knew early on that we’d be it for each other. She said, ‘Even though Justin was only 17 and I hated it, I could see how he looked at you. And how you looked at him, though you’ll deny it.’ Then she told me to take care of you and to make sure we visited her often.”

Justin wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Last night, she was very weak, but she insisted on telling Molly and me one last piece of motherly advice. She told Molly to hold her kids tight but not suffocate them. Then she turned to me and said, ‘Jus, don’t let losing me stop you from enjoying your life. Go on trips, and see the world. Let Brian take care of you. He loves you more than anyone else ever could.’ I thought she was being silly. After all, I know you love me. But now I see that she just wanted me to know that even without her, I’d still have something to live for.” 

Brian took the opportunity to pull Justin against his chest once more. He tucked the blond under his chin and held on tight. “I love you more than I ever thought possible. We’ll get through this together.”

[anamericangirl]

have you ever even thought about WHY a woman might need an abortion? What if they were raped? What if giving birth could seriously hurt/kill the mother? What if it was an unplanned teen pregnancy or a teenager was raped? Do you still think they should carry the baby until the birth, knowing the mother could suffer? Do you think it’s ok if the mother dies as long as the baby lives? the other anons are right & you ARE fucking disgusting. You will never change pro-choicer’s minds no matter what.

I've thought about why women get abortions many times. And it's clear you've been led to believe that abortion is the solution to the reasons you mentioned but that's not actually the case.

>What if they were raped?

Women don't need an abortion if they were raped. I can understand why they might want one because that's scary. She's been victimized, violated, and hurt and now she's pregnant through no choice of her own and I completely understand and sympathize with her situation and how she is feeling. But, in this situation, we now have more than one innocent person involved. If the baby was not a living human being from the moment of conception I would say go ahead and get an abortion. But they are a living human being from the moment of conception and your solution here is to kill the child for the crimes of the father. We don't even kill the rapist in these situations but you want to give the death penalty to the baby?

There is also the fact that abortion doesn't help. It's not a safe, magical, trauma free baby eraser. It's an invasive procedure that comes with several risks of its own. It's not safe. And it remains not safe even if the woman was raped.

Abortion triples the maternal mortality rate (and, interestingly, it was also found that a safe delivery is linked to reduction in mortality risks that are associated with both miscarriage and abortion).

Abortion increases the risk of premature death for a woman by 50%.

Abortion harms women's mental health

some bullet points from the article:

″Women who have had an abortion have an 81% higher risk of subsequent mental health problems compared to women who have not had an abortion.

″Women who aborted have a 138% higher risk of mental health problems compared to women who have given birth.

″Women who aborted have a 55% higher risk of mental health problems compared to women with an "unplanned" pregnancy who gave birth.

″Women with a history of abortion have higher rates of anxiety (34% higher), depression (37%), alcohol use/misuse (110%), marijuana use (230%), and suicidal behavior (155%), compared to those who have not had an abortion.

Abortion increases the risk of breast cancer by 44% in women who have had just one abortion and the risk gets even higher with multiple abortions.

There are multiple risks associated with abortion.

More ways abortion hurts women.

Some bullet points from the above article:

31% of women having abortions report suffering physical health complications (1)

10% of women having abortions suffer immediate, potentially life-threatening complications (2, 3, 4)

Women have a 65% higher risk of clinical depression following abortion vs. childbirth (5)

65% of women suffer symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) after abortion (1)

Women’s death rates from various causes after abortion are 3.5 times higher than after giving birth  (6, 7)

Many women describe their experience as ‘a nightmare’, which can hardly equated with ‘choice’. 60% of women surveyed after abortion responded that: ’Part of me died’ (1)

Suicide rates among women who have abortions are six times higher than those who give birth (7, 8)

Abortion increases a woman’s risk of future miscarriages by 60% (9)

You are advocating for a woman to be able to undergo a very unsafe, risky procedure just because in the moment they think they want it. A woman who was raped and ends up pregnant needs emotional support, counseling, and thorough medical care. Not an abortion.

>what if giving birth could seriously hurt/kill the mother?

If giving birth is going to seriously hurt or kill the mother then chances are an abortion will too. And if giving birth will kill the mother she needs to be seen by a doctor at a hospital. Abortion is not a treatment for life threatening pregnancy complications. In situations like that the mother needs to be treated as necessary because if she dies so will the baby but the treatment for those situations is rarely, if ever, an abortion.

>what if it's an unplanned teen pregnancy or a teen was raped?

If a teen girl was raped that's terrible but you can read my above answer about abortion in cases of rape because it doesn't change for a teenager.

If it's an unplanned pregnancy, why should the baby die? They are still as much of a person as they are in a planned pregnancy. It is safer to go through the natural pregnancy and birth process than it is to get an abortion. So a pregnant teenager needs thorough medical care and attention throughout the pregnancy, not an abortion. It's still not safe even if a teenager is pregnant.

Abortion does not magically erase the baby. The woman still has to deliver it from her body. Abortion forces the body to "birth" a dead baby. That's the difference. You advocate for the delivery of a dead baby. I advocate for the delivery of a living one.

>do you think it's ok if the mother dies as long the baby lives?

No, that's why I don't support things that would kill the mother. I want both the mother and baby to be taken care of. I want them both to live. If the mother dies the baby is going to die, too. The baby cannot live if the mother doesn't. And killing the baby doesn't save the mothers' life. In situations where the mother may die she needs to be treated as necessary and every effort needs to be taken to save her life. Doctors should be try to save both lives. And if the baby dies in the process of saving the mother that is tragic but it's not an abortion.

The problem here is you just don't really understand what abortion is. For some reason you think killing a baby is the only solution to a tough situation, but you're wrong. You don't ever need to kill a baby. We can let them both live.

And I've actually had former pro-choicers tell me I have helped to change their mind so you're wrong :)

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Pamela Anderson and her love for being loved, just like the love of her life . do you want to know why they’re both like this? And cancer? Tommy Lee Libra, Libra, Libra ♎️ but let’s talk about Libra for a minute .so we know that Tommy Lee is a libra man and could be a big flower and have lots of different multiple girlfriends, for fuck’s sake he was in Mötley Crüe👯‍♀️, they didn’t sit around playing games. Pam was different from the others. He tried to marry. I know he married Heather I believe that he really loved her too. And that she was Pamela Anderson was the one that got away this is why his wife feels threatened by it and I really like his wife, Brittany Furlan…….. she didn’t like the fact that our life was being betrayed on this Disney show and she didn’t have a narrative and she said that none of the people came to her now we don’t know whether that’s true or not,. But I wanna build a romantic story here because that’s what I need to get better again.

Imagine that You’re shy, , I’m being alone is all that you know you’re a celebrity so you do know how to socialise a little bit but not with men who are laughing and seeing as an object, like most men do with Pamela Anderson, they don’t see past it, so this powerful man comes along, let’s remember each of their respective Mars signs match each other his sunshine so the way they go about their selves in their physical energy their bravado their swag their energy of being, he’s gonna have a cancer ♋️ sensitive side which came out because he probably felt it revealing that side of himself to her and in your 20s everything seems amazing in a relationship when you look back , hi vibe with Tommy and she had the confidence and the flirty ability that he, because she has her eyes in me look up woman with their Mars Libra, so energy and how she put herself a coach match each each other not to mention sexually, would then lead to the sex tape of it which Pam had done before, with Brett Michael.

His ex Bobby Brown, who is a Libra too, as is his first wife, second wife if I forgetHeather Locklear anyway.

And Bobbie Jean Brown,. Said that she’d gone to the same lake with the year before where the thing the tape was filmed and she thought they were fine together., but you have that one person in your life that you would love like no other I truly believe, and they were in their 20s early 30s, time to put your feet on the ground at those ages.

His cancer made him very his cancer made him very emotional and very volatile. I think his mother might be in the seventh house. This would make him a Capricorn rising which could be the case because he’s too skinny with good bone struct. Also if he’s attracting more in his south node, and Libra or North node, or even has seven house making him an Aries rising, sense of his head, his hair and his temper.

He had two women with strong Libra energy? Something that attracted. Sagittarius moon 🌑 in him made him very lively vivacious, Venus being in fall in Scorpio, making someone possessive lover with dark undertones anything with Scorpio is not for the week, who don’t have Scorpio and they don’t get it and what overnight with everybody who has that twin flame relationship, strong Scorpio theme of that connection you are the other half of me you are my soul. You are my spirit. You’re my everything my reason to breathe, there is Eva self node in Scorpio ,moon and Scorpio., in the house chart ruler in Scorpio, in the sign of ♏️.

Hey, some example of people who had that hook up going on

, Sid and Nancy

Kurt and Courtney

Bob and Whitney

Anita and Keith Richard

. And possibly a few others, if you think of Bob Marley, who is a Scorpio man with one of his wife either Cindy or Rita, there’s going to be that connection, Scorpio rules over intensity, emotional breakthrough emotional, possessive angry 😡, this is someone I own that kind of vibe this is why it’s so hard to break away from a relationship like, Pluto aspects or Mars aspects is going to make it very hard for you to cut this, even Neptune and Saturn.

Unfortunately, as we get older, you let go of a dream, believe as you’ve had this will always have hope over anything and we’ve seen it with people get back together years, even though they broke up Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck, but Ashanti and Nelly? We are having a baby together., be aware that these are twin flame aspects and they are going to take over your life if you like that kind of vibe and that relationship that’s fine. I know I do .

[mermaidsirennikita]

ok so word on street is that kate had a nervous breakdown during christmas because she found out william's mistress is pregnant with his child and she’s keeping it. kate is apparently refusing to cooperate hence the disappearing act. honestly out of everything i heard this sounds the most plausible? or she really did have medical complications that left her incapacitated and they're just handling it really badly.

I see why the Rose is pregnant theory appeals to people! Here's why it doesn't make sense to me:

a) I hate to sound like a Royal Gossip Old (aka a total freak) but people have been saying for YEEEEARS that at least one of Rose's kids is William's. I've heard the daughter--more recently, the stuff swirling around Rose's marriage makes the twin boys seem Questionable, but if I'm being real the one I've seen pics of doesn't look like William. And that's when I see pics of him next to George, who most definitely does. However, that doesn't mean anything because genetics,

My point is--stories about William getting Rose pregnant are not new. Kate would be well aware of them, and I think that in some ways this is probably recycled gossip. Until I see Rose pregnant, I'll remain unconvinced.

b) Honestly? I still don't think Rose being pregnant would make Kate throw a big I'm Threatening To Leave with William. Because... I don't think Kate's leavin'. This has been her LIFE. She is SO close to being queen. Even when Charles wasn't sick--he's a senior citizen on the throne. Yes, his parents lived to be a billion years old, but he's still far older than his mother was when she took the throne and for all intents and purposes, William is essentially a breath away from the crown.

Rose, or at least the Rose rumors, has/have been a fixture in Kate's life for a long time. I just don't know that I see Kate suddenly going "I'm not doing anything until she goes" with this. What's different? Even if there is an illegitimate child--half the gossips already thought there was. And ultimately, none of it materially matters. Kate's marriage sucks either way; and Kate will be queen either way. And I'll add... Kate does have an example of a former Princess of Wales to look to. She can be a globally famous mother of the heir with family backing, or she can be one without it. Either path is hard, but one path led to someone being killed.

(I mean, to be clear.... Even NOW, the media insanity around Kate isn't what Diana faced on the reg for yeeeeears and being super idolized by some and hated by others and is way worse than the indifference with which a lot of the world beheld Kate for a long time. But I do think that if Kate left, the interest in her would be much greater, only this time, she would be left without the family's weird protection.)

c) I think the answer is that all of this is probably connected, or at least WOULD LOOK connected. If Kate is much sicker than the palace lets on, the information may, they fear, go like dominos. You admit a Medical Event happened that caused her to have severe complications. Then the question becomes--well, what could the event have been for a seemingly healthy woman in her early forties, if it isn't cancer? It could actually be many things, but what if there is something--what if they dig deeper? What if they discover the mistress, and then think that maybe something happened BECAUSE she was so upset, and so on and so forth.

I mean. I think that all that speculation, we can safely say, IS NOW HAPPENING LOL. But I believe there was some attempt in the beginning to avoid it with total silence. They've just bungled it.

Because the American media is now forcing Rose into the public more, I feel like the instinct is to go "this Rose thing pushed Kate over the edge". However, the Rose thing has been a thing for a long time, and while I think it was potentially a contributing factor to a mental and/or physical health issue, I don't think it's something that Kate would pull a "I'M DONE" over. Because... why now? Even if there was a pregnancy--those who know about Rose already think she may have a kid by Wills. And I'm SURE Kate knows that.

I do think that William being the future king versus a leapfrog away from being king probably has brought a lot of the skeletons out of the closet in a more vivid way than before. Because they've probably had conversations with PR teams since the queen died--what is ALL the dirty laundry, what do we need to know about, etc. Crisis planning.

Which. Obviously didn't go WELL.