#my mother tongue my worst subject.

[rusted-phone-calls]

oh THIS is why I always fail my eng writing exam

[canarycolemine]

The Cardinale

Pairing: Cardinal Terzo x Female Reader

Summary: Cardinal Terzo is one arragont motherfucker.

AO3 Link

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only. hate sex. lots of it. cardinal is a little cheeky piece of shit. WC 4.4k.

Heavily inspired by @mardyart's depiction of Cardi T. Such a phenomenal artist!

Cocky, arrogant, headstrong.

The third Emeritus brother, destined to become Papa one day, nepotism to the highest degree. His suave, angular face and his overly confident charms - how he assumes every Sister will fall into his bed.

How I despise him. How I hope to never fall under his gaze, never be subjected to his attention.

Imagine my rage when Sister Superior informed me that I, her star pupil, will be responsible for tutoring the bastard in English.

He was “reassigned” to the country-side Abbey after displaying what I can only imagine was simply inappropriate behavior for an upper clergy member. The man believes that he can seduce and bed any living thing! Perhaps it’s not a matter of belief, but a goal, rather. At his current pace, he will have had most of the Sisters in his bed before the year is up!

Watching him saunter through the halls, smoking his little cigarettes - inside! I always made a concerted effort to cough as I walked past, head held high. He would simply perish, it seems, if he did not attempt to woo a woman a day. Kissing their hands, wearing his stupid white gloves, and winking that shining white eye.

I love my Sisters, but please, have some self-respect.

Quite frankly, I’ve always been appalled by his behavior. He has never led an entire black mass by himself, needing his brothers to finish the job. There was even one instance where I could have sworn he had a sister hidden under the pulpit from where he stood, evidently having communion. No, Cardinal Terzo only ever wanted to lead the rituals - the demon and ghoul summonings (he needs new things to fuck), the mystic elements (anything he can light on fire), and of course, orgies. (duh!).

It was early fall when Sister Superior invited me to her office. I was promised tea; secretly, I had hoped she would invite me to teach a seminar or two over the semester. My lecture series on the invocation of Lilith and Samuel could rival even the Dark One’s knowledge, himself!

But, no.

“The Cardinal is in desperate need of more restraint, and he could benefit from a more rigorous understanding of the English language. He prefers to speak in his mother tongue, and truthfully, it is not accommodating to international chapters.” Superior started, my ears perked at the mention of my personal enemy. I brought the steaming cup to my mouth. “I could think of none other to teach him all of these skills rather than you, Sister.”

I could hardly register the hind notes of the tea before it went straight through my nose, burning the whole way up! I coughed and sputtered the hot liquid at the shock of my assignment.

Still catching my breath, “My apologies, Sister, but… why me?”

“Give yourself credit, Sister. You are a star pupil!” A shine in her eyes, a smirk in her mouth let me know two things - she meant what she said and there was another reason, too.

My eyes narrowed, seeking the answers in her eyes.

“And you’re the only student that the Cardinal has not gotten to know… intimately.” Her lips pursed, looking towards the ground.

“Sister Superior…” I started, not above begging.

“Sister, I will make it worth your while. I will make sure you have your lecture series as a mandatory presentation for all first-year novicates.” A smile crossed my face, but dropped; still, the deal was unsatisfactory.

I sat up a little straighter, now making a dare. “And, no kitchen duty for the entirety of his lessons.” I hated the kitchens. Everything I’ve ever made was burnt to a crispr, so I’ve always been delegated to cleaning the dishes - the worst thing in the world.

She nodded, “That can be arranged.”

I smiled, relaxing a little, but how it only lasted so long. Resigned to my fate, I was excused to prepare for my lesson with the Cardinal this Tuesday.

A pause from my duties was provided in anticipation - he needed to be assessed for his English skills - grammar, vocabulary and pronunciation. From my understanding, he had a functional grasp on the language. But I did not really know.

Truth be told, I have never spoken even a word to the Cardinal - always avoiding him, always souring my face when his eyes gazed at me. I wanted to be wholly unappealing to the man. For the most part, he had taken the hint and left me alone. Although, I could have sworn he said something in Italian as I walked past, something like “how I want to be the stick up her…” I didn’t inquire further.

By Lucifer’s grace, I had successfully avoided him. Until the sunset on the second day of the week, when our paths collide.

I arrived at our designated location - one of the older classrooms, repurposed for private studying, long abandoned by the day. Thirty minutes early to the beginning of the lesson, how I tidied our space, laid the materials out and cleaned the chalkboard.

The hanging wall clock, the ever present heartbeat, kept steady. It was almost unnerving, as if keeping me in tempo with the eventual encounter with the asshole. The old bell tower clock rang out 6 times.

And the aforementioned asshole was not here. The door was unlocked, the sun firmly setting. My lips tightened to a pout. I will give him five minutes - no more.

Electing to sit in one of the old desks I rearranged, I pulled out a trusty book, as I had anticipated his tardiness.

Some twenty odd pages in, and I had lost track of time entirely - forgotten the reason I was in this dusty room. The bastard didn’t even show up, easily thirty minutes late! Quite frankly, it was embarrassing that I managed to stay this long. But now, I elected to start the process of cleaning my things.

In the morning, I planned to tell Sister Superior that I will simply not take the Cardinal as a student, he had no respect for my time. Future Papa or not, not enough breaths on this Earth could be spared for a man with little regard for others.

I managed to talk myself through this script as I cleaned up my belongings, nearly whispering her retorts back. But I would not be deterred! Lost in the monologue, I heard a hoard of boys giggling, getting closer to the door.

No, no. It could not be.

The door opened, the raven haired cardinal stumbled in - his pack of brothers falling behind him. Laughing at some lewd joke, no doubt. He turned to look at me, suddenly stiffening his posture. The smug smile falling from his face. He offered some excuse to the men behind him, closing the door to the two of us. He leaned against the old door frame, creaking under his weight. As if that would make him look cooler. The black cassock he preferred was immaculately ironed - surely not by his own hands. Maybe he was screwing the laundry girls.

I tried hard to keep my gaze away from him. My rage and my pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Scusa sorella, I, eh, lost the time.” He offered with a shrug of his shoulders. His voice was rich with his mother tongue.

“Well, Cardinal, I won’t keep you long, then. Our lesson is canceled.” I coldly retorted.

“Che cosa?”

“Canceled, cardinal.” I spat back, lifting my book and walking towards him. “You were late.”

“But I am here now, no?” That white eye twinkled - a charm that assuredly got him into many sisters’ beds.

“And I have been here, Cardinal. For thirty minutes past our scheduled time. Either your watch is broken or you have so little regard for others that time is no object to you?” I said, every syllable articulated, glaring at him.

His eyebrow quirked, a challenge, he supposed. A grin crossed his face, a chuckle that died in his throat.

“It really is you, eh sister?”

“What?” I shot back, whatever could he mean by that?

“You - you,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one to his lips, lighting it, and puffing the smoke away from us, “I thought my school would be with you. You are the sister that always walks with a stick up her ass.”

I made a pointed effort to cough at his smoke.

“Some of us have priorities besides fucking an entire congregation, Cardinal.”

“Am I really so evil, Sorella?” he feigned offense, the cigarette affecting his enunciation. Removing from his lips, another puff. “To celebrate our eh, how do you say, istinti?”

“Instincts.” I corrected.

“Ah, si, instincts. That is why we are here, no? Our Lord calls us to do just that.”

“You’ve got quite the head start on the sin of lust, Cardinal, I don’t think you could ever live long enough to dedicate your life to such… dedicated studies of the other sins.”

“It is my favorite.” His white gloves took the cigarette from his mouth, curling it between his fingers, before dropping it to the ground to extinguish the flame. His shoes shined brilliantly, even I could admit, but as I gazed at his shoes, I swore he winked at me through the reflection of his face.

“You really shouldn’t smoke, you know.”

“It is not good for me, this I know.” “I couldn’t care about what happens to you, the flame isn’t good for these old buildings. You’d burn down the whole abbey.”

“You say you don’t care about me sister.” He moved past me, further into the room, settling in one of the old teachers' desks. He kicked those expensive shoes onto the desk, relaxing back into the chair. “But I do not think that is so true.”

I faced him fully, still standing near the door. “I promise you, I do not.”

“Hm,” he chuckled, bringing his gloved hand to his mouth, running the fabric gently against his lower, unpainted lip. “No.” He said so sternly.

“What?”

“What?” he mocked me, a voice that was far too high pitched to be an imitation of me.

I let out an exasperated sigh, to which he laughed.

“Fuck you.” I went for my bag, still at the old desk.

“Do you want to know how I know this?” He said, staring at my rage.

“I doubt you ever shut up, so it doesn’t really matter what I want.”

“Sorella,” he sat up in the chair, his feet meeting the ground and his hands coming together on the desk. “We have not spoken any words to each other. But you hate me so much?”

I huffed. “You have no respect for anyone but yourself!” I could feel an all too familiar lump in my throat.

“How do you know this?” His patience now wearing thin, I could hear it.

“You walk around the abbey like you own the place. I get it, I know you’re the future Papa, but God damn it, you are so arrogant. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life! You think you can just fuck anyone and anything that walks through these doors. You’ve had everything handed to you by a silver spoon, and I hate it.”

My eyes watered, I couldn’t look at him. Whether from my rage or some secret hopes I had, I could feel the emotion.

“I’ve worked so fucking hard to get where I am, and I will never be anything close to you, just because you’re, fucking, you! And now, I have to waste my time teaching you English because you can’t stay focused for more than five seconds!”

My fist met the school table. His face leaned into his hands, thinking too carefully about the situation. His eyebrow quirked.

“... You are jealous of me, then?” He hid a smirk behind his hands.

I glared at him, how I wish my stare could kill.

“Fuck. You.”

“That does not sound like a no.” No effort in hiding his smirk now.

“Since when does ‘no’ matter to you?” I baited.

He feigned offense, yet again, bringing his hand to his chest. “Sorella, I am offended! I can promise you all of my sexual encounters have been enthusiastic by all parties. I would not dare to violate another!”

“What a well constructed sentence, Cardinal. It seems like you have no need for any help with the English language.”

“Ah, she has gotten me off of the topic…”

“All I had to do was talk about sex, so it wasn’t too hard, was it now?”

“No, no, no, we were talking about you, si! About how you are so jealous of me.” He ran that stupid fucking gloved hand through his hair, slicked with grease.

“Even now, you cannot say you are not jealous of me. Admit it.”

I paused. “So what?”

He clapped his hands, catching me apparently.

“She is! She is very jealous of my status and my future. But, I think she is jealous of not only me, no?” His tone shifted, in a direction I was not comfortable with.

“What?”

“She is also very jealous of all of the people that I get to fuck.” He punctuated the syllables far too clearly.

I huffed again, rolling my eyes. “There it is again. She does not say ‘no!’”

I hated how well he was reading me.

“Why do you even care? You fuck everything with a pulse, so why do you care?”

Fuck. I was not selling this very well. His gaze told me everything. The raised eyebrow, the smug pull of his painted lips.

He tilted his head, as if to study me further. I could feel myself recoil.

“You have done too much assuming, Sorella. About me, about yourself.”

He stood from the chair and stalked towards me. Instinctively, I crept back from him, nearing the wall for safety.

“You think I do not care about anyone but me, and that is not true. You think I abuse my future position, but that is not true either. And you think I fuck anything with a pulse.” He reached me, cornering me against the wall.

“And that,” he brought his finger to my chin, forcing my eyes to his, “is not true. I only fuck the pretty ones.”

Here is where I could be offended, he never fucked me. I thought that I was fairly pretty, so damn, that kinda hurt my feelings.

Sensing the monologue, “And you are a pretty one.” His painted lips gently touched mine.

God damn it. I hated how good that felt.

“So you see, sister, I knew you thought all of this.” His other hand reached for my waist, exploring the dip of my body. “I saw the way you scowled at me, pretending to hate me. It was all jealousy. But there is something about the way you hated me that pulled me so, so close. I needed to have you.”

“But how to get to you?” His hands reached for mine, holding them in place, behind my back.

“Who better to teach me restraint?” he purred.

“I act like an asshole for a while, speak in Italian with my friends. I get the attention of the Sister Superior, who will certainly demand I be subdued by studies.” His painted lips traveled a path along my jaw to my ear. “And who here have I not fucked?”

His teeth grazed my earlobe. “I could deceive the world for you.”

I bit my lip. His gaze returned to mine.

“Pretty good, no?”

“Pretending you’re stupid was a very believable act, apparently.” I mustered out, flustered as I was.

“Don’t deceive me now, Sorella.” His lips met mine again, pressing his forehead to mine. “There is one thing I need to hear you say.” His words left his mouth easily, but he was not unaffected. Just as flustered as I.

I huffed, pausing for only a moment.

“Si.”

His lips crashed to mine, with a fire that was barely restrained before. He released my hands from behind my back; his hands traveled to my hips, lifting me. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

We traveled through the room, locked in the heated kiss, when he sat me on the teacher’s desk.

“On the teacher’s desk?” I giggled, taking in the chosen location.

“It’s always been a fantasy.” He laughed back, then resumed his fury on my neck.

His large hands reached for my habit, pulling it off in a fell swoop. Evident of his experience, it hardly hurt. He pulled away from me, just gazing at me for a moment.

“Pretty one.” As if he didn’t know he said it.

Fuck.

I lead the charge back to his mouth, my hands now locking into his raven locks. The diligent work of unbuttoning that goddamn stupid black cassock. I gave it my best shot. My hands kept slipping on the buttons, struggling to unhook them. He chuckled from our kiss, removing my hands from him.

“Having trouble, darling? It’s always difficult.” His gloved hands made the show unbuttoning each cotton button - traveling down in body in quite the show.

Once to the bottom, he stepped out of the garment and removed his crisp white undershirt. I was out of my body, unaware of how I looked as I looked at him. Each new sight of his skin lit a fire in me. He was as slender as I thought he would be, well defined, certainly. A healthy patch of hair on his chest - he was certainly Italian.

A glance to his eyes knew how I enjoyed his spectacle.

Cocky, arrogant, and headstrong was the Cardinale.

“Your turn.”

He came back to my neck, teasing the delicate flesh. The first moan slipped from my lips as he sucked the skin purple.

“Good girl.” He purred. He lifted my habit from my legs, over my head, leaving me in my undergarments. Pausing his efforts to take in my form. A glance in his eyes - like my body was a feast for his soul. Another look at my undergarments, “Matching?” in reference to the black bra and panties I was sporting.

Guilty.

He leaned closer to me, resting an arm on the table. Teasingly, looking into me.

“Women match when they are planning to be fucked.” My eyes turned from his, embarrassing me again. His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “Was there someone else, Sorella?”

I opened my mouth, but the words failed me.

“No.” He answered for me, feigning sympathy. “There wasn’t, was there?”

My mouth hung open, but I couldn’t admit it.

“Say it, then.”

Bastard.

“Say it, pretty one, I do not have all night.” His voice nearly sang.

The fire his was stroking in me burned, “I need you to fuck me.” I whined, my eyes nearly starting to water.

His hand, holding my gaze, went to my shoulder, forcing me to lay on the old, creaking desk. Quickly, he made work removing my bra. Adoringly, he stared at the exposed skin.

Wordlessly, he painted my breasts with his lips. As his lips latched around my nipple, I whimpered, already so sensitive. His other hand toyed with the opposite breast, kneading the flesh. As his teeth grazed the delicate flesh, he nearly pinched the opposite.

Another gasp escaped.

“She likes it when it hurts?”

Obviously. I fucking hated him so much.

He mirrored his actions on the opposite breasts before trailing his kisses further down my torso. Nipping at the skin, kissing it, dragging his tongue.

He left a particularly gentle kiss below my navel, as he gazed back at me. Wordlessly asking.

I nodded.

He hooked his hands to the elastic of the lacy panties, dragging them off of my legs in a well-practiced motion.

“Spread your legs.” I obliged, as he pulled the teacher’s chair to sit in between my legs.

His gaze never left my core, which he could see how he affected me. He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, granting a better view. Biting the fingers of his gloves, removing them. Gently working the muscle of my inner thighs, unconsciously creeping higher.

Reaching my core, his uncovered hands spread me open further to him. He gazed reverently.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He stroked my slit delicately, I shivered and whined at the feeling. “Such a pretty girl.”

He brought his face close, kissing my mound and licking the slit all the way up. He left gentle kisses onto my already sensitive clit, dying for attention. He latched his lips around the bud, suckling softly.

As his tongue flicked my clit, I bucked my hips into his mouth, firming my grip in his hair.

He unlatched to drag his tongue, flattened, up and down my core. His tongue prodded at my entrance, lapping at my slick. His fingers moved towards my center, replacing his mouth, pressing into me.

One finger - pumping slowly into me - adjusting the feeling. Adding another one, stretching slightly. His eyes studied my face for discomfort. Once I adjusted, his divine mouth returned to my clit, alternating between kissing and suckling. His fingers curled into me, searching. When they found the spongy tissue inside, the moans fell easily. Begging him. He teased the spot, expertly. Pressing into it with each pump, as he sucked on my clit.

“Cardinal-” I started. “I’m getting - close” I managed to get out.

I could feel a smile on his lips as he continued, speeding his actions.

The band in my stomach was burning, stretching, white hot. At the precipice, as my cries started to build.

When suddenly he stopped. Sitting back, removing his mouth and fingers from me.

I shuddered at the loss of sensation, being so close. I sat up slightly to look at him.

The fucker was wiping my slick from his chin, licking his fingers clean.

Apparently, my face told him how close I was, how it was moments away.

“I wanted to feel it on my cock, darling.” His eyebrow raised. “Plus, it feels better when you ruin it a little bit.”

A fight was breaking in my head, an internal debate I was having with him.

His belt jingled, his pants being slid down and discarded. Left in pristine white boxers, which he lowered. His cock sprang free, dripping with his precum.

“I could have came just from tasting you, you know?” as he began languidly stroking himself, using himself to lubricate the movements. “All of your little sounds, they sounded so sweet. And you were oh so close, weren’t you?”

His teasing was back, his hand sped up, only to build himself up more. I whined.

“Just think. Even an hour ago, you were cursing my name, wanting me dead. Look at you now - begging for my cock.”

He pressed his cock into my core, rubbing the reddened head onto my clit. A guttural noise fell from me. An animalistic cry.

“She was so jealous of me, too. And now all she wants to be is fucked by me. Maybe she’ll die if she doesn’t get it, what do you think?”

“Please, Terzo.” “Oh, using my name now? What happened to ‘asshole?’” His voice cracked, unaffected by his own need.

“Please fuck me.” I cried out, a tear falling from my eye.

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Tumbling out.

On command, he aligned himself and pressed into my dripping heat. Feeling every inch of my warmth, he shuddered and groaned.

“So, so good” he whispered.

He filled me exquisitely, pressing in carefully, allowing me to adjust. My nails marked his back, savoring every inch.

His hips finally met mine, I swore I could feel him in my stomach. He let out a breath, unsteadied from restraint.

“Don’t have that restraint now, Cardinal.” I teased. “Move.”

A low groan from him, as his hips rolled, moving back. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if I don't.”

“Try your worst.”

He slammed forward again, now setting a punishing pace. Feeling the drag of his cock on my walls, I whined. His hands tilted my hips further up, angling to my sweet spot. I gasped at the pressure. It was returning - the precipice. He couldn’t rob me a second time.

“Perhaps, sorella, it is you who needs a lesson, eh?” He nearly coughed through, maintaining his pace. “I could teach you something.”

His hand moved towards we were joined, circling my clit. It was becoming too much - the sweet pressure of him inside and now his devious fingers.

His fingers moved quickly on my clit, building the fire again. My moans telling him it all. As if in perfect rhythm, his pistoning hips and circling fingers.

“Let’s countdown, darling. In Italian.”

His other hand came to my chin, forcing my gaze. He nodded, as if to reassert his power. “It goes…dieci, nove…”

The fire was reaching a breaking point, I knew what he was doing now. His fingers still moved with a steady speed.

“Otto, sette, sei…”

“...Terzo…” I whined.

“Cinque, quattro, tre…”

“I’m gonna…”

“Due, uno.”

The waves of pleasure crashed down on me, my legs shaking. My vision blurry, white hot. His hips stuttered, as I felt him swell inside, riding out my pleasure. Milking him for all he had. The course of our cries rang in the old room. His fingers didn’t stop until I whined with oversensitivity, his spend leaking from me.

He stayed inside, pressing his full weight onto me.

We held each other in an embrace, coming down from divinity. Our breaths in sync, slowing down.

My breath nearly returned to me as I came to, laughing with what air I had.

“What’s so funny?” His smirk shined with a warmth I had not seen before.

“A countdown to my orgasm. Cheeky.”

He laughed. “It worked, eh?”

“Don’t be too full of yourself.”

“I cannot, you are full of me.”

“Ew! Don’t say it like that, dumbass.”

“There is the girl that hates me. I missed her.” He gazed at me, smiling more softly now, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. Holding my face in his hand, so gently. He placed the last soft his to my lips.

“And I’ll never stop hating you, Cardinal.”

“So be it, but it has worked out well for me so far, huh?”

Bastard.

[demonshauntingthedoves]

Chapter 2

Perfedious : A disloyal and faithless person.

Pairing : Yandere!Seokjin x female reader (Mirae)

Summary : You had dreamt of a beautiful man who held a diamond ring in his hand for you and the dream had come true when you saw Seokjin holding the same diamond ring and he slipped it on - your sister's finger - not yours. Sometimes what you want happens in the worst way possible.

Warnings : Heavy Angst, Family Problems, Age gap, Dilf, Dub-Con, Infidelity, Affair, Toxic Behaviour, Eventual Yandere, Eventual Smut, Just wait for Seokjin's dark Pov [hehehe].

Word Count : 3865+

You woke up feeling groggy and lazy after a lethargic noon nap.

Minsu and Seokjin had flown to Paris for their so-called honeymoon.

You had to hide your irritation when she had excitedly waved the package tickets on your face. She was beyond ecstatic.

You had slumped and shrinked in your room after they left. Your house filled with silence and gloom.

You missed her already. You missed both of them.

The trail of your hopeless thoughts was cut off when you heard something drop on the floor downstairs. It would be your mother. She purposely clank the cutlery to make noises, to annoy you, a telltale sound when she wanted you down.

Reluctantly, you jumped out of bed and trudged down the stairs to the kitchen.

And there she was throwing away all the ramen packets you had bought to satiate your hunger pangs.

You were livid, the ramen was one of your favourite quick meals, something you relied on when you were too lazy to cook. And not like your mother fed you well when Minsu was away.

"What are you doing?" You shreeched in anger.

She turned to look at you with a blank and unbothered face as if she wasn't throwing your food.

"I don't want this trash in my house."

She said, as she moved to throw another packet in the bin. She didn't make any dinner last night, the poor noodles came handy, and now she had the audacity to throw them.

You ran to her with heavy stamps and tried to snatch the pack which led to a bit of scuffle.

"What is your problem?" You shouted in pure frustration.

"My problem is that I don't want this trash in my kitchen.You need to eat healthy and not this junk." She shouted suddenly, making you flinch.

You backed away and chuckled in mirth and disbelief.

"Like you ever worried about my health. You starved me yesterday and now you care!!!"

" You should know how to feed yourself. You're not a toddler to be pampered. You can't rely on me or Minsu all the time! " Her heated words did little to cool your boiling rage.

" I did. I did cook the ramen and fed myself." You said through gritted teeth, so tempted to spew out curses.

You were so furious, towards yourself. You had promised yourself that you would control and not be a part of this pointless wordmatch. But here you were.

"I said healthy food!" She clarified. Looking at you as if you were a dumb cow.

You gulped all the molten rage you wanted to fire at her. You're learning to cook healthy. You know how to. It's just once or a few times that you eat packaged food.

You sighed. If you continue, you'd never hear the end of it.

" So you care about me? " You changed the subject but didn't back down before hitting a nerve. You already knew the answer. You directed the fragile question in a mocking way.

One thing you were thankful for was that your mother never put her hands on you. Even though she seemed like she could beat you nuts, she didn't. She didn't cross that line.

But her sharp tongue would always do all the job her hands couldn't.

" If I didn't care about you, you'd be on the road today, thrown like this trash."

You just stared at her with an incredulous face. Wondering how she always managed to prick a needle in your heart.

She threw the ramen in the dustbin with a loud thud and purposely slided the spoon holder off the counter, all the spoon clattering on the floor with a disturbing sound. She walked past you muttering bitter,

"Useless trash…."

--------------

You thought you could deal with it.

A stomach ache. It lasted for three days including today, only change being your periods joining the pain party.

You could take care of it, deal with these unwanted cramps. Spurs of pain shooting in your lower tummy. But you weren't able to focus much in the lectures.

During break, you drank water and began to eat lunch, thinking you'd feel better. But it got worse when your head started to spiral, heart palpilated and vision distorted.

You were about to faint.

Ari rushed you to the infirmary, supporting your hobbling body.

Tears clung to your lashes, as you limplessly fell on the ward bed. Ari remained beside you with concerned eyes. Cheeks flushed with sweat and embarrassment, you answered the nurse. The woman put you on saline, asking you to rest. Ari rung Minsu, quickly informing of your condition. She disappeared to bring your backpack.

The white walls of the infirmary screamed "You are weak!" in a hundred ways. You were beyond disappointment. You were going to be eighteen soon. Step into adulthood. Like this, like a weakling. Miserable. Good for nothing. Trash. Your mother was right.

Amidst the blaming noises, you heard Seokjin's voice, your heart plummeting with cold terror.

No. No. No.

You didn't want him to witness you like this- in a sorry state.

You clutch your eyes shut in humiliation, turning your head to the wall on the other end.You wanted to disappear, wanted to sink into the ground.

You felt his presence, rosewood scent diffusion in the antiseptic room. He squeezed your hand, his warm fingers touching your sweaty forehead and neck to check the temperature.

"Rae…?"

You couldn't escape this. You hesitantly faced him with droopy eyes- casted down to his hand which caressed yours. You couldn't look in his eyes- definitely full of pity. He'd think how pathetic and vulnerable you were. Couldn't handle a stomach ache.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked softly.

Not at all. Why did he come instead of Minsu? You didn't want him here. Didn't want him to see your sickened swollen face.

You nodded. Gazing at his Rolex. You were bothered by a very different reason to care about your stomach anymore.

"Her BP is very low. It can happen due to blood loss during menstruation. The dose will work for now but she needs to stay more hydrated and eat well."

The nurse checked on you again. Passing a sympathetic smile which did little to ease your mortification. Your eyes shifted to Seokjin's. Sweetly staring soft appeals.

He had rushed all the way here. Decided to invest his precious time for your silly inconvenience. You instantly felt guilty for wasting his time.

"I'm sorry." You apologised, tears welling up. You didn't want to cry but you couldn't help it. " I know I wasted your time with all this."

"No, Rae. You didn't disrupt any of my time.It's fine. Minsu had an urgent meeting, so she couldn't come."

"I'm just s-sorry!" You sobbed, covering your mouth. You felt horrible.

"Rae, I know how you feel."

You looked at him. His honey molten eyes softened with genuine worry and empathy.

"It's alright.You're alright. Illness just comes and goes." He understood your plight.

" You don't need to blame yourself for it. It's alright to feel weak in such moments, you're only human. Sweet little human at that."

He booped your red nose and wiped your tears, offering you his angelic smile.

" But from now on, you need to take more care of yourself. Got it? "

You nodded again, no more self conscious, too consumed by his aisling presence.

Seokjin took you home. You glared at all the girls who ogled at him while walking out of school.

Once home, your drained self refused to eat anything but Seokjin stubbornly spoon fed you before taking medicine. It all felt so casual, too natural. As if you had known each other for a long time. And not just two months.

" Always remember that we are there for you, Rae. It's not wrong to need someone, to seek help. You shouldn't think that you're a burden or bother to us or anyone. You're not. Okay? " He said whilst handing you the prescribed pills.

"And you can always count on me. I'll be there for you." His voice, like a gentle candace, assured you. He was so considerate.

You smiled gratefully.You just wanted to hug him and you did. Awkwardly so.The moment your body brushed his, the tender symphonies played in your heart yet again. They grew louder every time you were close to him.

"Thankyou." you murmured against his chest.

His warm body felt millennial times better than the cold pillow you snuggled in at night. He felt like home. Warm and cosy. You clung to him like a homesick fool.

Reluctantly, you retracted your arms from his back, looking up at him. You'd love to be a stargazer and peer into Seokjin's eyes. For all the twinkles hid in there.

This wasn't the first time you were close to him. The first time was when you had bumped into him and fell down. He had offered you his hand and tugged you up, but you had again clumsily stumbled over him.Your noses brushed. Breaths fluttered. Eyes locked. You had never been that close to a man before. The lub dubs of your heart had quickened.

And you knew. From then on, every vault and crevice of your mind would be filled with his and his thoughts only.

------------------

She was smiling.

Your mother was smiling. Not the one she feigned and faked outdoors to show her charms and courtesy. This was a genuine one. It reached her eyes.

Even the walls of your cramped house would be flabbergasted to hear her laughs. And so were you and Minsu. Your mother seemed too happy. Her face beamed as she spoke to Seokjin.

She had invited them for dinner.

You had seen the shift in her. She was so engrossed in cooking, humming and smiling dreamily. It was uncanny.

You'd never seen her being so affectionate, never thought she ever could be. All directed towards Seokjin, the man in the spotlight. You were confused at first but then it became clear.

She saw in Seokjin the son she never had.

It had stung, this was the part you always longed for, her affection and attention. Minsu was happy with this little change.

Even after finishing his, Seokjin wanted another piece of cake and to his surprise, he received three. Mother's, Minsu's and Yours too. Ending up eating the whole cake.

Ofcourse, God had favourites. So did your mother.

She was always soft spoken to him. Brought him a specially woven traditional coat. Prepared his favourite dishes and sent them to his office.

But she had wicked favours too.

She'd complain how the furniture was broken and coax him to buy new ones. Months later, your house looked like a complete renovation. All thanks to Seokjin's wallet.

Seokjin was too nice for his own good.

----------------

You watched the delicate butterflies dance on flower petals, heart fluttering in synchrony.

It was your birthday.

Like every night, you were busy indulging in your fruitless thoughts. Fantasising about certain someone .

Only to see him in your room. You yelped in utter horror. His smiley face appeared out of nowhere, glowing in the candle light.

"Ta-da!"

Minsu switched on the lights, running to hug you with a wide smile.

"Happy Birthday Rae!"

You cut the cake. Wishing for the wellbeing of the two favourite people in your life.

You fed the cake to Minsu. You were so grateful to have her. You both had bonded strongly, sharing mutual hatred towards your mother. Offered each other a shoulder to lean on.

Unexpectedly, Seokjin smeared the icing, staining yours and Minsu's cheeks each.

You were going to pounce on him. But Minsu beat you to it, running to him like a wildcat. Their infectious laughter slowly seeped into every corner of the room, making it lively and joyous.

Your heart sank when you saw them kiss, cake forgotten, bitter taste on your sweet tongue, eyes on Seokjin's hand wrapped around Minsu's waist.

You shouldn't feel this way.

You couldn't let this crush get to your head.

He was your sister's husband.

You needed to stay away from him.

Your special morning started with a visit to the butterfly sanctuary. A colourful start. You were amazed to see the tiny butterflies, erratically fluttering here and there. Golden monarchs flaunting. Gracefully kissing sweet scenting flowers they pass by.

You walked in wonder. Eyes darted away from the couple beside you. Clicking pictures of butterflies. Most of them flying freely in the garden but some were kept in glass boxes. The rare ones. You gazed at the poised pink butterfly. So big and beautiful. You smiled at it.

Your lashes fluttered up at the man on the other side of the box, eyes fixated on the same butterfly. Through the glass, his eyes met yours, the moment suspended, they flashed with something for a fleeting second. But they turned into slits.soon after, as he passed you a smile.

The symphonies started to blare in your heart. Louder. Butterflies erupting in your stomach.

No. You had told yourself that you would avoid Seokjin at all cost. You forced a smile and walked away.

Despite him arranging everything for your birthday, you ignored him all the time, it made your insides twinge with a little guilt.

But you could'nt deny that this was your bestest birthday.

----------------

"You should write a song." Ari babbled our of no where. You pinched your brows, a questioning look on your face. " On hopeless romance." She joked, busy swiping your birthday pictures.

You rolled your eyes, knowing she is spewing nonsense, going back to playing your guitar.

Seokjin gifted it. You wanted to jump on him and hug him tightly but you knew better. You loved music and always wanted a guitar of your own. You were so happy.

" A butterfly sanctuary, then the folk music museum, then the aquarium and then the lavish restaurant with jazz music. Fuck! Didn't he tick off all the places you wanted to visit just in a single day! " Ari spoke with widened eyes, amused.

"So what? I didn't even look at him the whole time." You said with furrowed brows. Plucking the strings, checking the tune.

Ari smirked, zooming in a picture where you and Seokjin were closest. Seokjin was looking at you, as you smile at the camera. " I can see that. But really you just fussed all day for no reason then!"

"He kissed her. Right in front of me. That too on my birthday night!" You let out, anger veiling your sadness.

" But he did all this. Took a leave, spend a whole fucking day off for you. Maybe he wanted to make it up to you." Why was she defending him? And why she being so delusional?

" He just did it all for Minsu. Because she'll be happy if I'm happy." You said, fingers stroking the strings aimlessly.

"You're being illogical. I have a brother in law too but he never did all this things for me."

" He treats me like a child. That day they both were pamparing me like I'm their daughter. And I absolutely hated it."

" Look you should see it in this way, if they see you like their child, they won't think of having one."

" Shut up!!" You face twisted in a weird expression. Mouth twitching into disgust. You detested the thought. "You are talking absolute nonsense! " She was being ridiculous.

Ari sat up nicely, hearing the door creak open, Minsu walked in.

"Hello girlies!" She greeted you both, placing her purse on the bed. She directly came here from work, looking at her working attire.

"Glued to the guitar already. I knew you would love this gift." She settled on the bed, scrambling through her bag. "Talking about gift, mine was pending. Here it is."

You opened the envelope, staring at the document. It was something related to ownership of a house.

"You bou…." She cut you off "Yes, we bought a house. We're moving to the house next door. Right beside yours." The moment her words reached you, your lips stretched into the widest smile. You were beyond elated. All the previous thoughts thrown out the window.

You snuggled in her neck, hugging her tightly. "I'm so happy" You looked at Ari across Minsu's neck. Her smiled mirrored yours, witnessing the soft moment of both sisters. " Thankyou so much. This is the best gift ever. We'll be close now." You hated to live alone, with your mom at that.

"I have another news, Rae." You nodded on her shoulder, asking her to continue, still not ready to detach.

" I think I'm pregnant."

And just like that your blissful smile dimed.

------------

(Present)

"When are you coming back?" He asked. You chewed the inside of your cheek, clutching the phone to your ear with quivering fingers.

" I-I'm not sure, Jin. The therapy will take more time." You sighed. "When I start to think it's getting better, the ache returns and it only gets worse." You explained to him.

You're not sure, not specific enough about which ache were you talking about. The ache in your stomach which had been tormenting you for months now. Or the ache in your…Nevermind.

"I hope the therapy works. I've been loaded with this project right now or I would have come to see you myself." He grumbled in slight frustration.

You shook your head vigorously and tried to silence your rushing breath.

"No- no Jin, don't worry about me. I'm better than before and Grandma is taking good care of me." That was the last thing you wanted. Him visiting here.

" Fine. But you know Minsu is worried sick and so am I. Good that she told me how you were doing when you weren't picking up my calls but hers." He said calmly letting you know that he obviously knew- you were avoiding him.

You stayed mute raking your mind for some excuse but he continued.

"Soojin had her recitation but no one was there to prepare her so she didn't go. Since then, she has been upset with us and more upset with you-that her aunt wasn't there."

"I know." You said sadly. Her pouting face flashed in your mind.

" And work is waiting, it's been two months now. I've managed till now but I cannot always cover up." He tried to control his tone.

"I know." You furrowed your brows and said in an inaudible voice.

He could. He could always cover up for you. But he was casting reasons to get you back home. To him.

" You don't. You don't know, Rae. Everyone misses you here." He sighed, digging yet another soft spot.

" I miss you all too, Jin. You need to un-" You voice cracked, feeling guilty and weak.

" No, you don't!" He sternly claimed." You didn't even tell me when you left. Am I that insignificant to you?" Your eyes welled up.

"No-" He cut you off yet again.

" Am I forcing you to talk to me? Tell me? I'll not call you from now on if you don't want me to." His words were snappy, tone upset.

A long pause dragged, he, waiting for your answer.

Your throat constricted. You couldn't speak a single word.

You didn't like how he spoke. He never used such a harsh tone with you. You were one minute away from breaking down.

You withdrew your phone and cut the call. You couldn't exchange any more words with him without crying your eyes out. And that's the last thing you wanted to do.

You thought that if you distanced yourself from him, he would just let go, forget about you and focus on his family. But that wasn't the case.

He was there, waiting for you.

To come back to him.

---------------

You clutched your head with both hands, feeling your head spiral again.Your body felt fatigued after throwing up so much.

This unusual dizziness had clung to you for so long.You assumed it was a passing illness due to emotional stress but it remained for several days. Months now.

When it didn't get better from local clinic medicines, you decided to visit your Grandma and take her treatment instead of the city hospital.

You grandma patted your hair as you plopped on the dining chair lethargically. You quickly gulped the bitter liquid she gave you for your upset stomach. You rested your elbows on the table and covered your teary eyes.

"It will get better Rae. Have faith."

"It's been months now, grams." You sobbed.

"Do you want to visit the hospital?"

You shook your head,

"No, I'll get better with your treatment." You rubbed your red eyes and nose before putting on a smile to convince her.

Three months had gone in thin air.

You looked in the mirror, your body had fattened. You lightly slapped the plush of your cheeks and turned to find the outline of your breast and butt look more rounder.

Despite you throwing up all the food, you managed to gain weight. How was that even possible?

You removed your top to put on something lighter, but as you glanced in the mirror again, your eyes fell on it.

And you ignored it. Stubbornly ignored it.

You knew exactly what was happening to your body. You had lied to your Grandma that you were on birth control. You had also lied that you were getting your periods.

You were already on edge. There was so much going on in your mind, that you didn't allow much space for this thought. You had brushed it off in denial. Ignored it. Knowing well, that if you let this situation get to your head, you were finally going to lose it.

Third month, you came to accept it. You were horrified when you realised it.It couldn't be more obvious. All the signs were so clear. You wondered why hadn't your Grandma kicked you out already.

Your heart was filled with absolute dread and wonder at the same time.

There was a life growing inside you.

And you couldn't keep it.

You had scurried to the small pharmacy in the further corner of the town. Asked for abortion pills. You took it at night, lights switched off, in darkness, too afraid, too unwilling to witness another of your sins. Killing a life.

You had been taking the pills for a few days. You needed to get rid of it.

Maybe you had sensed it from the start. Your intuitions gnawing. Like the silence before a storm. A disaster. Your body had hinted. That's why you had run away from home and hidden. But what you didn't know was that the cause of the disaster was within you. Growing inside you.

" Please don't tell mom. Not now. Please!" You begged your Grandma, hysterically crying. She got to know. Your bump had grown. The pills didn't work. You had chugged the whole bottle in your mouth.

If your mother got to know, she'd kill you. You cannot imagine the mortification you'll be in when you face Minsu. What will you tell her? What will you tell Jin?

A new splash of cold terror poured on you.

What will you tell him?

Previous I Main Masterlist

A/N - Finally done! I've kinda dragged this chapter a bit. Wanted to show the (very slow) dynamic between Jin and Rae. The last scene is my favourite. I wrote this whole thingy just to get to that one part. Also, I personally love Ari more than all the Mcs in this. Lol.

Let me know which part you liked.

Please vote and reblog. Let me know if you want to join the taglist.

@themochiverse @ephemeralliving

[queens-of-spirits]

The Poolverine Playlist

So as I mentioned in the latest chapter of my fic, I have a Poolverine Playlist. I had some people say they were interested so here it is! Please let me know if you have additions or edits to these songs to share! It’s under read more because it is loooooong. I was going to add links but tumblr will not let me add that many.

Like a Prayer by Madonna (3 versions). You know why this is here, I know why this is here, no explanation needed, it is their song

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News. It’s the song that plays while Wade is searching for his dream man a wolverine

You’re the One that I want - From Grease. The Honda Odyssey song!!! The thing that, combined with the come hither motions, the taunting, the belt grab, and literally ever other part of this scene, makes it clear that there was a little more than fighting going on in that car.

If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. I know this one is more from the second movie, but the themes of time travelling to undo past mistakes (specifically of cruel worlds like those initially shared between them) really fits their story

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. My personal alternative soundtrack to the Honda Odyssey scene. They both were enjoying stabbing each other a biiiiit to much for this not to be fair game.

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse. I can’t stop imagining this playing over a series of domestic vignettes post-movie where Logan realizes he’s in love. Also, there is hand-holding imagery, you’ll see a lot of that in this list.

Problems by Mother Mother. Particularly the first few verses. The whole finding love in a strange place while locked up in a cage is very them (“Not all of you was asleep,” anyone?) and that first bit about the singer believing that the subject is good enough for heaven but they aren’t? I can see the edits in my mind’s eye. The best part? It works no matter who you imagine as the singer.

Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother. This could be either of them, but I just can’t help by see Logan dealing with his anger and violence and idea that he ruined his worlds and then the two coming together to be fucked up and break shit together.

Curses by The Crane Wives. This is so Worst Wolverine. His world is destroyed and it’s his fault, but then Wade comes along and makes it all easier somehow.

Tongue’s & Teeth by The Crane Wives. Again, so Logan it HURTS. Feeling like a monster that hurts or destroys every good thing and will ruin Wade too, but willing to accept the fact that Wade seems to know this, but doesn’t care.

Predator by The Crane Wives (I really like their music lol). It’s on their latest albums and again. It really embodies the character of Logan to me. Tim’s hard to describe without just showing you guys the lyrics, so honestly go listen to it guys.

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces. This one is hard to describe, so please trust me and listen to it with Poolverine in mind

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. Okay, if I had to pick another song for the hand holding to Madonna scene, it’s this one. The vibes are immaculate, the theme talking about not being understood but finding someone who sees you are perfect, but that’s not why it’s here. It’s here because if two lines that are so much like Logan in that moment where he rushes in to save Wade. One: “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be/And I don’t want to go home right now.” This one is Logan finding something in Wade he’d thought he’d lost and realizing, perhaps even in that moment, that he doesn’t want to go back to a fixed world. Two: the very first line “and I’d give up forever to touch you.” Logan believes that if he goes in that chamber he will die, but he breaks down the door anyway. He’s literally giving up his effectively immortal lifespan (forever) to touch Wade because he’d rather die with him that live in a universe where he doesn’t exist.

Too Sweet by Hozier. This one is so Logan falling in love with Wade post-movie. Logan having another chance at life and Wade trying to pull him out of his most self-destructive habits while Logan can’t think of anything but how Wade is too good, too sweet for him.

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller. I love these boys but they are a liiiiittle toxic. This is that (plus the knife and gun imagery)

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley. Remember that scene where Wade bled into Logan’s mouth and he had that feral ass grin and laughed? Yeah.

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin. You say rough sex I say Poolverine.

Big Bang Theory Man by Clare Fader and The Vaudevillians. It’s another toxic romance vibes song. This one has guns lol

Somebody to Love by Queen. I think this really exemplifies their lives before they find each other. They’re both lost, both put down by life and the world. They don’t know it yet, but they’re just looking for somebody to love.

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. A little more toxicity for the boys. Logan singing this about Wade works well. Like with the idea that Logan played his part in Wade’s game and got sent to the void. Plus comparing Wade to a loaded gun? Yes. Just yes

You Make My Dreams (Come True) by Daryl Hall & John Oates. I like to believe that they both made each other’s dreams come true. Wade got to team up with Wolverine and Logan got a second chance.

The Other Side from the Greatest Showman soundtrack. Look I know Hugh is the one singing here, but I can’t help but draw comparisons from this song to Wade dragging Logan away from the bar where he’s content to waste away.

I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious by Pierce the Veil. My beta reader (crypticanid here on tumblr) recommended this one so it’s here.

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. The chain is them holding hands to save the world :-)

Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen. Here for dad rock energy and because it fits pre-movie Logan.

Shackled And Drawn by Bruce Springsteen. See above (Springsteen is peak dad rock to me)

Angel Eyes & Basketball by Foot Ox. Look at these opening eyes and tell it isn’t Logan “There are flowers growing all around a massive animal inside of me/And it's so ugly/And I'm so broken/And I'm so ugly/And it's so broken”

Heaven’s Gate by Amélie Farren. This is so Worst Wolverine pre-movie. He’s lost and helpless and blames himself for ruining his world. Also, the bit about “I was told that I was vital in the plan to save my life” is giving Logan agreeing to help Wade so the TVA can fix his world. And not believing in Wade and always running away before finally deciding to stay and follow? So represented in this song. Also! “‘Cause I didn’t deserve heaven, but I’m standing at its gate”? That is so Logan when he sees the start of his life with Wade stretch out before him.

Creepy Old Guy from the Beetlejuice musical soundtrack. This is one of the silly ones, but I find the idea of Wade singing this about Logan, who remember is over 200, really funny. He’s Logan’s controversially young girlfriend.

November by Sparkbird. It’s a song about travelling grouch parallel universes and the vibes are very Poolverine. Plenty of knife imagery.

Loser, Baby from the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack. Look I know this one is a little off the wall, but c’mon, it’s a song where an animal themed alcoholic and a hyper sexual gun-lover who are heavily implied to have feelings for each other sing about how life sucks and they’re both losers, but at least they have each other. It’s one the nose (I would actually cry if someone did artwork of them dancing in front of that billboard like in the show)

[matt0044]

Why does Indie Animation lend itself to such intense discourse?

If I had to speculate from my own observations (feel free to call me out on an overgeneralizations), it would be that the harsh turn against any given indie project would be akin to a mother scolding a child with, "I expected this from your sibling but you?!"

See also the "We were rooting for you" gif often tossed around.

Indie Animation be it from a small studio or crowdfunded is seen as bypassing the hoops and hurdles of getting your foot in the door of the highly corporatized entertainment industry. With the likes of Disney or Nick or any given streaming service, creator driven projects are subject to the whims of the company who holds the IP.

And those whims are often to said IP's detriment. It'll more often than not be willfully neglected at best or treated as just something to fill a time slot or shove onto a streaming platform as "content." Enough may be allowed to flourish but their either uncerimoniously cut short at best or being dragged out as a franchise at worst.

To keep from going on about the whole Legend of Korra vs. Spongebob thing (I was there people, there was an LoK fandom believe it or not), indie animation has often been seen as small scale but also within the creator's general control since they control how long it goes or how it's written.

Many cartoons like Gravity Falls, Owl House and Amphibia have talked about trying to get their vision across while contending with a lot of Standards and Practices. Their story which had a "kids and adults alike" target audience would have the top brass insist on something more just for the former category.

While they find work arounds, often to stick their tongue out at the FCC, this can be a hard reminder of who has the final say despite it being what you want. Indie animation is seen as an answer to "What if Alex Hirsch didn't have to comprimise elements of Gravity Falls for the FCC?" or "What if Dana Terrence could just blaze her own trail with The Owl House with little to no notes?"

Especially when it comes to animation with queer characters. Animation made to be "fit for kids" have it tough enough even today but adult animation has to "play it for laughs" since comedies have been the defacto standard for that type of cartoon.

However... a show being creator driven or creative team driven comes as a double edged sword for the fandoms they form. Not all stories that play out across multiple episodes of varying lengths are going in the direction YOU might want to.

Creators might tire of a certain direction or formula and mix things up with things that come to mind almost on the spot. Even with a solid plan, the status quo will get a shake up that can and will alienate those who fell in love from episode one.

Indie Pilots spark the imagination something fierce. There's theories as to what any little detail could mean going forward and speculation on what a character's arc could be. These go wild because Fandom is all about the hypothetical, the unknown, the what could've/should've/would've been. Whole phenomenon would be dead in the water otherwise.

Thing is that not all theories will be proven right if any at all. The creators aren't mind readers and even if it isn't a legality like in corporate, they don't read fanfics if only because they don't want their vision to be totally compromised. Any good creator knows not to just give fans what they want. However... trampling over all these fanfics and theories makes it feel like any given fan had their "child" dragged into the streets to be shot.

A harsh phrasing but that's how a lot of fans act when continuing episode bump up against initial impression of this character or that storyline. It was their creation but new lore, new backstory or what have you is liable to override them. It's been an occupational hazard of being a member of fandom for ages yet it's become the center of a lot of discourse now more than ever. Say thank you to social media for creating such a combative environment everybody.

It's this... feeling of ownership that has existed in fandoms of other shows owned by corporations but amplied by the smaller scale of it, how creators seem more... approachable. And THIS is how the YouTube "critic" scene comes in to capitalize.

So... yeah.

[msfantasy]

Betrothed to a Gaunt

Ending

Summary: MC is betrothed to Ominis Gaunt.

Ominis and Y/n's Wedding Day

The Ominis x Reader

The final year was one of the most challenging years of your life.

You sat at Uncle Archies side, holding his hand. A tear rolls down his face questioning if he made the wrong decision. Had he ruined your life before it barely began? Has he subjected you to a life of unhappiness by promising your hand to Ominis Gaunt? Regret fills his eyes, in his final moments. Determined not to let Uncle Archie die a regrettable death, you continued to whisper reassurances as Ominis sits on a wooden chair behind you, stroking your back to remind you he is there.

"No Uncle Archie, you did nothing wrong. I haven't had the chance to tell you but Ominis and I have fallen for each other." The lies roll of your tongue effortlessly, dripping in a convincing tone. Uncle Archie sucks in air, relief filling his soul. "If it weren't for you, I never would have opened my heart to Ominis. I am incredibly grateful for all you have done for me, because of you I have gone every day of my life being loved as a daughter, and because of you, I will continued to be loved as a wife, and one day as a mother. Because of you, I will continue to experience life's greatest mystery." You announce pressing a kiss to Archies hand, tears rolling down both of your faces. A long fated smile draws on Archies face, the kind of smile you haven't seen in years due to his illness.

"My darling girl, I am so grateful for the happiness you unknowingly brought into my life." Achie sucks in air desperately trying to finish his sentence. "Though I have never had my own children, you will always be my darling daughter - thank you for everything." He smiles with his last breath. Uncle Archies eyes closed with his final classic smile etched deeply into his face.

You relent a yearning cry as you collapse onto the floor, loosing the most important man in your life. Ominis without a second thought kneels on the ground with you, holding your sobbing forms as screams of pain ring from your throat until the air is ripped from your lungs leaving no sounds.

To add to the worst year of your life, a long-term pining romance squashed before it even began. The heart-break was immense, however, Imelda and Ominis was there to comfort you.

Ominis felt guilty over the whole ordeal, he stormed his house attempting to call of the engagement, only for you to calm him down and remind him that the deed has already been done, and that there was no going back, reminding him gently the romance you sacrificed and to not let it be in vain.

Sebastian remained distant from his two friends. You tried to reach out, only for Sebastian to respectfully request space from you.

You have all since graduated. Unable to rekindle your friendship with Sebastian, you had no choice but to let bygones be bygones. You dedicated all your free time to meticulously planing the wedding of your dreams. Even if it wasn't to the love of your life, you were going to enjoy the day with the sudden money you now had access to.

It was the night before your wedding and in a drunken haze, Ominis went stumbling to Feldcroft moaning his sobbing apologies for ruining his best friends chance at a happy life. Sebastian looked down pitifully at the broken and mournful Ominis Gaunt. A man who was always regal and refined, reduced to a sniffling mess at Sebastians feet.

Sebastian carried his old-mate to the near by bank with a couple of glasses to drink from, the two looked out over the water and had an honest heart to heart. A conversation that remains private between the two til this day. Whatever was discussed left Ominis sleeping on the ground with a soft smile pressed along his lips. Sebastian turns his gaze away from the sky looking towards Ominis, filled with solace at his sleeping figure.

Sebastian continued to wait patiently for you to respond to his owl, requesting for you to pick up your fiancé. It was only about an hour later that you had appeared before your jilted lover and your fiancé.

You gently roll Ominis over checking with great concern if he was injured. Stress ran through your blood when Ominis did not return back to the Gaunt mansion.

"Thank you Sebastian...." You say with grace. Gently easing Ominis into your arms. You smile awkwardly at Sebastian, whilst he returns your gaze undeterred.

"I will be attending the ceremony." He announces, which was of surprise to you. "I'll see you later." Sebastian stands, dusting off the blades of grass from his trousers. He retreats to his small cottage home leaving a very heavy and passed out Ominis to take care of.

Apperating into the Gaunt foyer you release Ominis on the marble floor with as much care as possible.

"Blimey brother, on your wedding day of all days." Marvolo snickers in amusement. Mrs. Gaunt flys through the foyer with an entourage to follow.

"Marvolo my dear, be a good boy and help your brother prepare for the ceremony. Chop, chop everyone! We only have 6 hours until the ceremony begins!" Mrs. Gaunt claps striding into the garden continuing to point out the set up required.

Exhausted from your sleepless night you retreat to the bathroom drawing a warm bath with salts and your favourite scents. You let yourself sink into the warmth as you review the crazy year that has passed, all the drama leading back to this very day.

Stepping out of the bath you sit before the dressing table in a slip, your make up was pressed on delicately leaving your make up flawless. Your hair placed expertly in the exact style selected. Your gown was freshly pressed and placed over your elegant form. You were a true sight to behold. Every woman would aspire to be the glowing bride that you have presented today.

You stand at the top of the steps anxiously looking out of the crowd. A sea of faces staring at you, you waver in your resolve only for Sebastian to grab your hand twisting it around his arm.

"There, there. We cannot have a bride running away now can we?" He says as he begins to guide you down the stairs.

"Where's Marvolo?" Sebastian scoffs at your question.

"Would you seriously rather him right now?" You nod in agreement.

"Fair point... I'm just surprised you're here." You announce gently looking over at Sebastian who has his gaze set towards the alter.

"I would never miss the wedding of my two best friends... besides... If your Uncle Archie were here, he'd slap me upside the head and tell me to be a gentleman... I know he would've spent the whole evening bragging about how beautiful his 'darling girl' is." A laugh sniffles from you, tears edging a long your waterline.

"He would've." You agree. Reaching the alter you turn to Sebastian whom lifts your veil kissing you on the cheek, you grab his sleeve again. Sadden by him leaving your side.

"It's okay... I promise I'll still be here. I won't act like a git again." You hug Sebastian firmly. Guilt escaping you. You felt like you were both back to your old selves.

You lay your eyes for the first time on Ominis. He looked handsome standing in his tailored suit. He holds his hand out waiting for you, reaching out your grasp his hand. The officiant stands before you announcing your union, you begin to whisper to each other.

"So Sebastian his here..." You say only for Ominis to smile once again.

"We had a good chat." He says, looking back to the officiant. "You know for someone who didn't want to marry me, you sure pulled together the most extravagant wedding of the century. My father just about cried at the invoice." You snort trying to imagine his fathers face. The officiant glares at the two, making the two silent before snickering again. The officiant declares a moment of silence of the crowd as the two are to whisper their vows, as the promise is only for each other to hear. Ominis leans in first.

"Y/n, I vow to continue to fiercely love you if not as a husband, than as a friend from now and forever. I promise to never forget this bond we share. I vow in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might carry us apart, we will always find our way together." A smile erupts from you as you lean in whispering your own vows.

"I have laughed with you, cried with you, cared for you and shared a part of my life with you. I get to build a home with you, and live in a home with my best friend. I get to spend the rest of my life with you, and that is a privilege I'm honoured to experience. Thank you Ominis, for being there for me in my weakest moments, and sharing with my my greatest moments. I vow to be there for you, as you have always been for me." You say, Ominis stiffens under the sincerity of your words.

The unbreakable vow glows softly as the officiant calls for a final kiss to seal the deal.

Leaning in you press your lips to Ominis's for the first time. Your lips smooth and melt together in perfect unison, a buzz runs through your mouth at the electrical feeling. Ominis is the first to depart from your amalgamation leaving you wanting more.

The crowd cheers at the end of ceremony, Ominis steps back reaching his hand out to you.

The night continued on, the food selection was delightful. People stuffed their glutinous bellies with the finest meal they've ever had. The cake was cut and eaten, the champagne was pouring from end to end. The first dance was dream with all eyes watching the two forms gliding across the floor carelessly.

The dance concluded as Sebastian strides towards the newly weds. "May I have this dance?" Sebastian asks as Ominis steps to the side and leaves to retrieve some refreshments.

"I have't had the chance to tell you how stunning you look." Sebastian whispers to you. "I'm sorry for acting out like a child and not being there for you when you needed support most." He says gesturing to the passing of Archie. "I hope you can forgive me, and have me back as a friend." He asks in a broken whisper, terrified of your answer.

"I would love nothing more than to have you back in my life." You answer honestly. Sebastian sighs, grateful for your readiness to forgive.

The wedding party continued to rage on through out the night, however, the newly weds bid their adues. Now you were being taken by carriage to your new home gifted by non-other than your husband. It was a quaint little home with a glass portion of the house that appeared to be a reading nook.

Your feet thump along the floorboards as you run wild through your new home giggling at the beauty and the aesthetics of the home, it's all yours. Everything you had always wanted and Ominis is the one who made it all happen.

You turn back looking at the smiling man, bemused by your childish excitement. You jump into his arms, pushing him back into the cushy couch behind him.

"I love it! I love it! I love it!" You yell with a Ominis laughing under your surprise attack. You sink into his chest, his laugh slowly dying off. "And, I love you." You whispered. He smiled a friendly grin.

"I love you too." He says back kindly, you only shook your head.

"No - not like that." You announce pressing your lips to his once again. You brush your tongue against his lips begging to enter his mouth.

Ominis pulls away from your intoxicating mouth. "Wait-what about Sebastian?" He questions, you roll your eyes.

"My feelings for him long left the day he gave up. Besides was it not you who remained at my side for all of my highs an lows? You've proven yourself to me time and time again Ominis. I want to be with you, you are my husband after all." Giggles erupt from both of you.

"Misses Y/n Gaunt." He says tucking stands of hair behind your ear. "I don't remember when was the exact moment my feelings for you bloomed. But one of my fondest memories was when you went to a large wildflower field and you gave me a jar full of dried flowers to smell what it was like." Your laughter echos through the rooms.

"We were like 7!" He nodded.

"That's as far back as I can remember." You look at Ominis with great adoration. "Now I'm married to the love of my life..." He whispers pulling you into a long kiss.

----

A/n: 1 more parts to come. Your wedding night *wink wink

Also I wrote this all in one sitting and I don't feel like editing so ...

Tags: @nightlightings @abbiesxox

[ranchracoon]

Blood, Flesh, and Bones Prologue

Long ago we used to be worshiped. Before those claiming to be righteous and holy came; they burned our alters, raped our followers' minds, their bodies, and we were forgotten. Except for a few who continued to worship in secret but one by one they were found and burned in front of a false idol. Then there was one. Then there was you. 

"When I die, come here to this spot. Light a candle and repeat these words exactly as written. Bring something of mine, steal my ashes, and lay me here. Otherwise, I will never know peace. Remember dear, these are the ones you call to."

You were a little girl, only 6 or 7, when your grandmother told you this. It was the first day you went to church to take communion, and you rejected it; you turned it down so loudly that afterwards your father beat you until you accepted. You ran away to your grandmother's house just a couple blocks away and she tended to your black eye, your bruised wrists, and your fractured ribs. Then she took you out into the woods, deep where no one would see, no one would hear, and no one would find you. The elders, the priests, forbid going into the forest for they speak of evils beyond human imagination. Creatures that feast on those who wander, creatures of unholy nature. If they were to find you, you would be subjected to worst punishment than your father's beating. Yet here surrounded by trees, and whispers on the wind, you felt safe, not like in the church where you felt watched, scrutinized, and damned. For once, you are at peace. You grandma knelt in front of a stone with unknown writing on it, but she knew the words and she recited them to you. She assured you; they are not the ones to fear. 

You began that mantra, whispering those names and prayer you've committed to memory. It was time to accept the things they told you to ignore. You saw them in the corner of your eyes, shadows that loomed and disappeared when you acknowledged its presence. If you stared too long in a mirror or the river, you could see them on the outskirts of your vision. You heard the whistles, clicks, and whispers when you shut the windows at night. You repeated the names whispered to you when alone until you felt the words glued to your tongue.

Even now, twenty years later, your grandmother's words echo in the back of your mind as you walk her urn down the aisle amongst the pews of people. Little do they know what she has filled your head with, even as you set her urn on the table next to the priest, you tell yourself your mantra.  Since that day you've hated this church, hated your parents for forcing you here, but you played the role assigned to you. That's what your grandmother told you; be the perfect daughter, and one day the time will come when your faith will be rewarded. As you sit beside your smirking father, weeping mother, and fidgeting siblings you do not shed a tear. You will not cry here. The funeral goes as planned, people speak of stories because like you, your grandmother was a master of disguise. No one knew about the two of you sneaking off into the woods, and no one ever would. 

When the funeral ended, you pick at your dinner as your family scarfs it down like they are starving. Your father finishes first and his silverware clanks onto his plate, grabbing the attention of the table. He looks right at you with a wide grin. You would rather face a pack of ravenous wolves than be alone in a room with him.

"Well, now that dear granny is gone there's no one left to protect you." You don't bother looking away, you know he's right. Your grandmother was the only one who kept you and your siblings safe from his wrath and the archaic views this village holds, "and that means, tomorrow, I will go out and find a husband for you. You're almost 30, you should have been married off years ago like your brother. Ania, you better pretty yourself up. I don't have high hopes for your sister."

"Harold, Ania just turned 18, surely we can-" your mother begins. 

"Shut it!" He slams his hand onto the table making your mother and your siblings flinch back. 

Ania, your sister doesn't look up from her plate, she knew this day was coming the moment grandmother got sick. Farkus, your brother, is only a few years younger than you and got married to his high school sweetheart. He says nothing either, only reaches under the table to hold his wife's hand. You excuse yourself from the table and head toward your room where you lock and secure the door. It takes a few hours, but you know the routine; Farkus returns to his home, Ania is in bed shortly after dinner, your mother too, and your dad drinks himself into a sleep within two hours. Then you do exactly what you promised all those years ago. You had swapped your grandmother's ashes with dirt and bone bits from various animals, and her real ashes are tucked away under your bed. You take the plain box and escape through your window; you have secretly marked each trail you've taken. You cannot take the same trail numerous times, otherwise someone would catch on. 

You arrive to the stone, the whispers just outside your hearing guide you through the pitch-black night. You strike a match and light a small candle before burying your grandmother's ashes adjacent to the stone and beginning your prayer. The wind picks up and howls in your ears, but you continue your prayer, you bow your head and rest your forehead onto the dirt. There, for the first time, you hear them. The footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves, they are heavy, they are many, but you do not look up. You repeat the prayer until the footsteps stop right beside you, and you hear the heavy heaving of breathing. As you open your eyes and sit up on your heels, the creature is still there only as a shadow in the corner of your eye. You stare forward at the stone, at the mound where you buried your grandmother as tears unleash down your cheeks. 

"It's up to me now."

Continue Reading

[drbased]

Your last two theory posts are absolutely fascinating and I'd love to read more on this subject from you, it really resonated with me. My father started getting radicalised online during lockdown, he's now a Q anon, a climatosceptic and a antivax amongst other things. I saw the man who taught me tolerance and acceptance become extremely racist, antisemitic, homophobic and most of all misogynistic over a few years (even tho he has two daughters, one being out as a lesbian. And his family having been subjected to horrible racism in his youth when he immigrated from Algeria) and it has utterly destroyed our relationship. We're no better than acquaintances now.

The biggest shift of all was how he went from an agnostic antitheist to a Christian during lockdown, then shifting again to a weird neutral stance I can't really explain. He says he's against all organized religion and authority (just so we're perfectly clear, I don't believe that for a second), but at the same time he has started seeing everything through the lens of Christianity (which was a big factor in how antisemitic he suddenly got). What I mean by that is that satanism in particular has become the central point of his whole philosophy. Everything is about the devil now. He told me I was supporting satanism as a horror movie fan, but also as a woman who supports femen activists. He thought the Olympics opening Ceremony was about Satan. Every single movie has a hidden message about Satan. He also notably started becoming a weird fan of psychiatry (my mum is a psychiatric nurse and an amazing one at that, she is very knowledgeable about these things) and started diagnosing random politicians and celebrities with "conditions" he made up which STRANGELY, have very demonic symptoms according to him.

[content warning ⚠️⬇️]

If I said everything I have to say about how the satanic panic got to him I would write for 4 hours. This has completely uphanded his life. Obviously like many like him, everything is about pedophilia too. The two are obviously linked. His new theory is that the president of our country (Emmanuel Macron) was raped when he was a newborn by his current wife (who is actually a man according to him) and it affected his brain which allows a secret organisation in the shadows to control him 👍 and also it's all about Satan too how could it not.

This whole thing has genuinely ruined my family, and he has been relentlessly trying to convert us and prove to us that these theories are real. This has not worked out great for him as his four children pretty much gave up on him. And the worst part is that I'm sure that our collective reaction and repulsion has only cemented his convictions. Because people like him love to feel oppressed and silenced.

I'm gonna be honest I completely forgot where I was going with this, I typed way more than what I planned. (Sorry for any mistakes English isn't my mother tongue)

I think feminists need to talk more about these conspiracy theories (at least I'd like to feel a bit less crazy, because I only hear about this from him and all that gross stuff he talks about like it's nothing is getting to me) and I was so relieved when I saw your posts! I was like omg I hear about that subject from someone who actually makes sense. If you have any recommendations of things to read, listen to or watch on this subject I'd love that and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Love your blog btw! Sorry for the long ask. Have a great day 💜

No worries about the long ask! I love reading other people's perspectives and experiences. And I wouldn't have guessed english isn't your first language; the only thing I noticed is that you wrote 'uphanded' when I think it should be 'upended'.

This is such a lovely ask to recieve! Whilst I love writing and analysing there's always a small part of me that thinks, ok, this specific thing I wrote is totally bunk, nobody's gonna wanna read this. So it's wonderful to recieve such recognition, especially not on anon (no shade to the anons though!)

'His new theory is that the president of our country (Emmanuel Macron) was raped when he was a newborn by his current wife (who is actually a man according to him) and it affected his brain which allows a secret organisation in the shadows to control him 👍 and also it's all about Satan too how could it not.' whaaaaat? Is that an existing theory or something he invented? I can see like three different patriarchal fears in that:

that 'leftist' men are a corruption of healthy masculinity

that men are corrupted by women's sexual violence (patriarchal reversal)

transphobia stemming from a conflation of homosexuality and femaleness as inherently linked; the ultimate in male emasculation and humiliation is the idea of the masculinised woman who dominates him

I grew up with conspiracy theories so I have some understanding of how they create a simplistic narrative out of the complexity and inherent unfairness of life. I always recommend Innuendo Studios' youtube series The Alt-Right Playbook as it was instrumental to me in gaining an understanding of how the right-wing mind works, but on this subject I recommend in particular the video 'You can't get snakes from chicken eggs'. The commentary that really resonated with me is relevant to phrase 'a lie is halfway around the world before truth gets its boots on': a lie can always be percieved - and communicated - much more simply than the truth, so it spreads easier and faster. And conspiracy theories are a way of both simplifying down the narrative into good vs evil, but also adding complexity to fill in all the obvious gaps - e.g., since there's no proof satan exists, but we need him to exist, there becomes an addiction-like obsession with trying to seek patterns that 'prove' he exists.

I can't remember where I read/heard it, but one of the psychological benefits of believing in conspiracies is that you get a gamification of life that generates a community - qanon with his 'q drops' has perfected this process: small bits of incoherent babble alluding to something are drip-fed to the community, who get to decode it in real time. The collective narrative-making is exhillarating, especially in a world with a fragmented culture and isolated people with diminishing 'third spaces'. And I know from personal experiences that one satisfaction from being a conspiracy theorist is that you get to 'achieve' something by doing absolutely nothing; you don't have to be any sort of activist or help people in the real world: since it's all information 'they don't want you to know', simply knowing the information is all that is needed for you to feel accomplished. I would definitely put 'conspiracy theorist' into my 'symbolic states' category because it's so transparently about placing a narrative layer over reality.

It's really sad what's happened to your dad; I imagine it would be incredibly painful seeing someone you love lose touch with reality so violently like that. And I believe you're right; that your collective response to him will only have strengthened his convictions. It reminds me of how it's been shown that door-to-door preaching is terrible at actually converting people, but instead is more useful to cement bonds between the group members as social outcasts. And conspiracy theorists basically pride themselves on being the pariahs who see the truth no one else dares to see.

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (125-127)

Birthdays! Playoffs! The fucking Kansas City Scouts.

If you'd like to read along, IJ(aoe)'s series page is here.

125. Many Happy Returns

The Canucks are second in the west but they don’t have a mathematical chance in hell to catch up to Kansas City, who’s blown every other team in the league out of the water, and hold a firm enough lead to almost certainly win the President’s Trophy.

Cue fist shake at the Scouts.

He feels guilty about it, rooting for Bryce to succeed but not succeed too much, hoping that the Flames succeed enough to make the postseason but not enough to earn a date with the Canucks.

Because Jared has absolutely no idea what that would lead to, whether they’d be able to put it aside or not, the fact the rest of their season depends on their husband’s team losing. Jared already gets annoyed when Bryce plays particularly well against him in the regular season, how is he going to feel if Bryce is doing it in the playoffs? How’s he going to feel if Bryce throws a borderline hit against one of his teammates, or one of his teammates throws a borderline hit against Bryce? Would he be welcome at their place when they were in Calgary? Would Elaine be comfortable with him staying with her in Vancouver when he’s playing her son?

Jared’s underestimating himself a bit here. He is underestimating Elaine a LOT.

“This is a stupid amount of flowers,” Jared says. It’s heavy it’s so big. And then they’re going to die in a week or two and Bryce will have blown a bunch of money on nothing.

“I love irises,” Elaine says happily, so Jared will grudgingly accept the flowers Bryce has sent, since they make Elaine happy, and that is a noble thing. “Did he leave a note?”

Jared picks a note out of the gigantic mess of flowers — irises, Jared presumes. Jared can tell a rose from a tulip, but that’s about it on his flower knowledge.

Mom loves irises, it says. I wanted to get you flowers but know you don’t care about them so I picked a bouquet that she’d like. Stop frowning at the flowers. Happy 21st babe, I love you. x B

How does it feel to be Known, Jared.

It’s not a game day, so at least Jared isn’t subjected to a post-game shaving cream pie in the face in front of the media, though he is subjected to a post-practice shaving cream pie in the face, courtesy of one Dmitry Kurmazov, and then forced to get lunch with his attacker.

Dmitry: participates in a time-honoured hockey tradition.

Jared: is this harassment?

“Yeah, him and Stephen and Dmitry,” Jared says. “After I got shaving cream pie to the face. It stings like hell when it gets in your eyes.”

“Thank fuck my birthday’s in August,” Bryce says. “Worst tradition ever.”

I don’t think I even need to tell you Bryce feels this way for hair related reasons.

“Hey,” Stephen says. “Jared. Mrs. Marcus?”

“Elaine, please,” Elaine tells him.

“Stephen,” Stephen says, “Gabe’s boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Elaine says, glancing over at Jared. Jared possibly should have told her that at — literally any point.

Might have been a nice heads up, yes.

“That’s a lovely coat, Elaine,” Stephen says.

“Oh, thank you!” Elaine says. “My, um — I got it last mother’s day.”

“Stephen knows about Bryce,” Jared says with a wince, because yeah, that is also a thing she does not know.

Here Elaine was all ‘okay Elaine, don’t mention Bear, and if they ask any questions defer to Jared, you can do this’ the entire drive in, hyping herself up.

Jared has the sudden immature urge to like — stick his tongue out at him, but he resists it. Mostly because Stephen would never let him live it down.

See, Jared and Julius have a brotherhood, and so do Jared and Stephen, but in Stephen’s case Jared is specifically the LITTLE brother. And he hates it.

“Go drink some Gatorade,” Jared says. “Replenish those electrolytes. I can wait ten.”

“Okay,” Bryce says, then, “Love you!”, like Jared isn’t going to talk to him in ten minutes.

Bryce’s refusal to end phone calls with Jared any other way, regardless of the context, is legit one of Jared’s favourite things, though he won’t even admit that to himself.

126. Apprehension

“You played really well tonight,” Jared says. “You’ve been on fire lately.”

Bryce laughs. “Why are you saying that bitchily?” he asks.

Accusatory would be the most accurate descriptor of Jared's tone, but bitchily isn't wrong.

Bryce is quiet for a moment. “Jared,” he says. “Are you mad at me for playing well?”

Jared would feel a little cornered if Bryce didn’t sound amused. “No,” Jared lies anyway.

Bryce is SO fond of this gremlin.

It’s a weird situation to be in, watching game tape, Dmitry talking about chopping at a recently injured ankle — that’s some cold blooded shit Jared is now considering — while bouncing his baby on his knees, breaking off musing about maiming dudes to blow raspberries against his cheek.

Jared's expression at this moment is priceless. There is judgment and horror and disgust and also confusion and is that the slightest bit of…respect?

The final score’s 2-0, but it would have been a completely different story if Kinder hadn’t been standing on his head, the D doing the best they could to help keep it from him in the first place. The Scouts made Bryce look like a ghost out there, which was the worst part.

So the thing about Willy's line -- it's hell. It's a hell line. They can score, obviously they can score, they have two of the most prolific scorers in the NHL, but they are also extremely defensively responsible and physically punishing when they don't have possession. It's an absolute nightmare to play them. The closest anyone has come to solving them is 'endure their shifts'. But then more Scouts arrive onto the ice, and they're no slouches either.

The Flames would put Bryce out against the second line instead to boost the offence at home, but in KC? Scouts have last change, and they have rendered Bryce toothless.

The frustration starts boiling over halfway through the second, the Scouts up by — Jared would prefer not to think about how many goals the Scouts are up by right now. Suffice to say that Kinder is currently wearing a baseball cap and fuming, and if Jared didn’t have a game tomorrow he’d be drinking as much as Elaine is.

Shortly into the second Elaine stopped getting up and going to the kitchen to refill her wine and brought it back into the living room. Shortly into the third, she returned from the kitchen with another bottle.

The Flames are fuming too, and Jared sees flashes of Bryce’s temper he hasn’t seen in years, in every after the whistle scuffle, and then when the second’s drawing to a close, he gets into it hard with Williams, looking genuinely furious.

“Fuck,” Jared says.

“I can’t watch,” Elaine says, hiding her face in Jared’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s over.”

At least it's not Shithead? Though Playoff Willy is dangerous to everyone, up to and including himself.

They get coincidental roughing minors, the top centre of both teams out, and no one’s really taking advantage of the four on four, while Bryce and Williams don’t stop talking the entire time, it seems, yelling at each other from their respective penalty boxes. They get a lot of footage of that during the second intermission, the talking heads all musing about ‘passion’ and ‘gamemanship’ while Jared just hopes Bryce doesn’t murder or maim the dude.

I love them as much as they hate each other.

Jared can’t honestly say he’s surprised when Bryce ends up right back in the box in the third for cross-checking Williams to his hands and knees right in front of the ref, though he is not impressed.

Bryce Justin Marcus, at least give the refs the opportunity to pretend they didn't see it.

“I used to be that flexible,” Gabe says, sounding a little wistful about it.

“Then you got old,” Jared says.

Poor Gabe. Gets it at home, gets it at the rink. Can't escape.

127 - Defeat

Jared’s not the scorer on their line, that tends to be Gabe with the final finesse or Dmitry with the net-front redirect

Read: with his big ass planted in the blue paint. Surprisingly generous of Jared not to refer to it that way.

“I’ll probably see you before they even get there,” Jared says. “Canada Post takes forever.”

“Just do next-day,” Bryce says.

“Do you know what next-day delivery costs?” Jared says.

Look, Jared WOULD see him before they get there for regular delivery, and next day delivery IS extortionate. But see Jared willfully ignore the existence of Fed-Ex and the like.

Well, Jared could just wander over to their equipment manager and ask for another game puck — there’s plenty, mostly for selling off to fans purposes — but he expects he’d get a look of grave disappointment that he lost like, career milestones, and Disrepected the Importance Of Equipment — he caught that look from Joseph when Dmitry smashed his stick in frustration after he whiffed on a puck tonight — and also he’d always know they were fake, so.

Could you imagine. It’d be like the Tell-Tale Heart, rubberized.

Jared texts Elaine during commercial breaks to keep from getting too antsy between shifts, his dad, who’s in the crowd and can tell him about shit the cameras aren’t catching, that happen when the screen cuts to yet another ‘here’s a big fucking truck for a big tough guy like you.’ ad.

I honestly almost miss ‘hoorah pick up truck for good ol' boys’ ads, now that 90% of ads during hockey games are for betting sites. But they’re still among the remaining 10%, so.

He texted Ash a few times during the first but she just replied with exclamation marks, so Jared suspects she is too in her feelings right now to communicate, which is fair enough.

I appreciate that Jared respects this very understandable position.

Jared would like to un-make that wish.

There is an entire subgenre of fairy tales about how you don’t get to do that, Jared.

Jared grabs a quick bite to eat at the hotel bar, since he’d been too nervous to eat dinner properly, checks the time every few minutes until he knows Bryce has gone through the coaching staff team pissed media bullshit gauntlet, and tries to find somewhere properly secluded to call him, since Carter’s still recuperating in their room.

Jared’s had a roomie change, which is easy to miss since they’re not Julius so they’re dead to him.

“Don’t tell me to stay out of the box,” Bryce says. “Everyone’s already told me to stay out of the box.”

“Stay out of the box, Bryce!” Jared says.

It bears repeating.

“He insulted my mom,” Bryce says. “My mom, Jared.”

Always effective! The classics are the classics for a reason.

Bryce will, however, be in Vancouver for the Canucks’ Game Five, having practically jumped off the plane from Kansas City and right onto one to Vancouver, only cramming in a night of sleep closer in length to a nap, and half of media day — Summers is probably furious Bryce cut out early, not to mention the Flames management — and by the time Jared gets back from the gym to change into a suit for pre-game Bryce is sitting in the kitchen with Elaine, looking tired, worn out.

Bryce still doing himself absolutely no favours with the Flames.

“Everything fucking sucks right now but coming home so I’m just—” Bryce says, and Jared holds him tighter. He’s pretty sure Bryce is crying, and Jared never knows what to do when Bryce cries. He figures the best he can do is just hold on right now, that there’s nothing he can say to make shit better, so that’s what he does, holds on until Bryce is more slumped into him than hugging back.

It was cut out early or break in like this while front of the cameras, honestly, so, no favours or not, Bryce made the right call, because he’d have been eaten alive if he had.

“Didn’t think it’d be a good idea to be in the crowd,” Bryce says apologetically as Jared gets ready to leave, and it absolutely would not be — Jared can’t imagine what the reaction would be if Bryce was seen watching a rival team’s playoff game in a whole other province after cutting out of his own media day, hometown or not.

They would refer to it in his OBITUARY. Dealer’s choice on whether said obituary is many years in the future (but still spoken of bitterly by Flames fans) or very shortly, right after Dave got his hands on him.

“I don’t,” Bryce says.

“Don’t what?” Jared says, when Bryce says nothing else.

“I don’t know,” Bryce mumbles.

“Okay,” Jared says. “That’s okay.”

Jared basically just says ‘okay’ repeatedly during this scene because he doesn’t know what to say but that is for the best, honestly, because Bryce just needs to be heard right then. And held, which Jared is much better at.

“They’re going to blame it on me,” Bryce says, and Jared can’t say anything, because he knows Bryce isn’t wrong. Knows Bryce cutting out early is going to add ammunition to a campaign of condemnation that’s completely out of proportion to what Bryce deserves. Penalties to Bryce resulted in three Scouts goals. He also scored five of the nine goals the Flames managed to get against the Scouts, scored two, including the game-winner, in the only game the Flames won. It isn’t on him, the Flames were up against a juggernaut that they couldn’t figure out how to beat, but that’s not what the narrative’s going to be.

Not that Jared was counting.

Jared was counting, because he knew, just as well as Bryce does, that they’re going to blame it on him. And, because he is Jared, he was tallying just how much that was going to cost.

[notinmyvocab]

apologies for my tongue (and never yours)

was encouraged by @yourlocaldisneyvillain to explore this fic a little more, so here's a snippet of genderbent David Copperfield!

title is subject to change

Felicity Copperfield was born at midnight at her home, the Rookery.

Her mother, Clara, had spent the better part of the day writhing in pain with a panicked housekeeper running around, no more useful than a headless chicken.

“Peggotty!” Clara Copperfield cried.

“Keep breathing, ma’am!” Peggotty instructed. Water! She needed to get water! Oh where was that blasted doctor?

Just then, a face appeared in the window. Miss Betsey Trotwood pressed her nose against the glass so that it became perfectly flat and white in a moment. “Mrs. David Copperfield?” she called from beyond the glass. “Miss Trotwood, you’ve heard of her I dare say?”

“Y-yes!” Clara managed to choke out as Peggotty opened the door and allowed Miss Betsey in.

“Well, now you see her,” Miss Betsey stated proudly. “Goodness, you’re a young one, aren’t you? A mere baby yourself! May I ask: why Rookery?”

“Do you… do you mean the house? It was Mr. Copperfield’s idea,” Clara explained through clenched teeth. “Peggotty!”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Peggotty bustled into the room with warm wet rags to press against Mrs. Copperfield’s forehead.

Miss Betsey frowned. “Peggotty? Do you mean to say that any human being has gone into a Christian church, and got herself named Peggotty?”

Taking offense, Peggotty stiffened. “Sorry, and what did you say our name was?”

“Trotwood. Betsey Trotwood.”

“Of course, my apologies, I thought it was Pot-Kettle-Black.”

“Peggotty!” Clara snapped, and the housekeeper returned to dabbing away the sweat. Clara was very agitated at this point, and red in the face. Leave it to her husband’s great aunt to show up at the worst possible time!

Miss Betsey turned to her niece. “Ah yes, the child. Your baby boy! I have no doubt it will be a boy, and I intend to be his friend and godmother. And you must call him David, as his father was named.” For David had been her favorite nephew. His passing had been sudden and tragic, and while this boy would not know his father personally, Miss Betsey would see that the boy knew of his father.

Of course, the child could always be a girl, but before Clara could point that out, she let out a strangled cry, feeling as if she were being torn in half. Just then, the doctor came through the door and with Peggotty’s help, Clara Copperfield was brought upstairs. It was then Miss Betsey took cotton out of her purse and placed it in her ears to drown out the yelling.

Hours passed. The sun sank beneath the horizon. Evening turned into night. Finally, Dr. Chillip came downstairs. His shirtsleeves were splattered with blood, but he looked pleased.

Miss Betsey stood up, taking the cotton out of her ears. “And how is he, doctor?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, he?”

“The boy, how is the baby boy?”

“It’s a girl, ma’am,” Dr. Chillip informed her. “A perfectly healthy baby girl.”

Miss Betsey’s face fell at this news. A girl. A girl who would not be named David. Well, that was that.

Miss Betsey Trotwood retrieved her purse and promptly left the Rookery, never to return.

The baby girl was christened Felicity Copperfield.

There wasn’t much Felicity could recall from when she was a baby. She did remember warm smiles. She remembered Peggotty’s fingertips feeling like pocket nutmeg graters: rough and ticklish when grazed lightly against the skin.

As she grew up, she gravitated towards books. She swallowed words whole, storing them inside of her. With paragraphs, she built fantastical palaces in her mind, envisioning scenes of princes and princesses.

Though it never felt quite right when a story ended with a princess being rescued by a prince. In her head, she would rewrite the endings where the princesses would have to save the princes and in turn became knighted. It made for a much better story.

The months turned into a decade turned into seventeen years. Letty was a young woman living with her mother, and they were happy.

Letty was happy, anyway.

Clara Copperfield desired more. She adored her daughter and she was grateful for Peggotty’s company and help. But it did make her smile when Edward Murdstone called on her for an evening stroll.

It became a habit. Every evening, he would call on her and she would join him and Letty would be left behind to watch her mother come and go with this stranger.

One evening, after her mother had disappeared down the lane with the stranger, Letty grabbed a book and spent time in the garden reading until she heard her mother return. And of course, right there with her, was the man with the eyebrows. Letty put aside her book and approached Clara.

“Did you have a pleasant walk, Mother?”

“Oh Letty darling,” Clara pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Come and meet Mr. Murdstone.”

“Felicity Copperfield,” the man said with a small bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Letty coldly.

She did not know Edward Murdstone, but she could see ill omens in his eyes. She bid him a pleasant evening before returning inside the house and going straight to her room.

Through her door, Letty heard Peggotty and her mother discuss the evening and then their conversation became hushed, as if they were aware that they were being listened in on. Annoyed, but resigned, Letty settled into bed for the night.

But sleep did not come. Hours passed and she fidgeted beneath her sheets. Eventually, she gave up. At this point, Peggotty had retired to bed, but Clara remained awake in the kitchen, sipping on warm milk.

Wordlessly, Letty joined her mother in the kitchen, pouring herself warm milk from the saucepan.

“How did you find Mr. Murdstone?” Clara asked.

Letty shrugged. “There wasn’t much to find.” It wasn’t the answer her mother was looking for, though. She could see that in the way the light in Clara’s eyes dimmed. “But he seems very agreeable.”

“Yes, I think so as well.”

There came a long pause, both women sipping their soothing drinks, unanswered questions hanging in the air between them.

“You like him very much, don’t you, Mother?”

Clara gave her daughter an almost sad smile. Surely she thought her pathetic for wearing her feelings so plainly. Felicity was more of a mystery. Though kind, Clara sometimes felt that she barely knew her daughter’s true nature. Felicity was like a book that required reading until the end to fully understand.

“He’s asked me to marry him,” Clara confessed. “He’s good to me, Letty. And he likes you very much; he always asks about you. And I’m so…” Clara stopped herself. How could she tell her daughter that she was lonely?

Letty placed a hand upon her mother’s forearm. “He’s a capital man, Mother. If he makes you happy, then let him make you happy.”

In truth, she did not care for her mother’s suitor. Her brief meeting of Mr. Murdstone had only irritated her. She had never known her father, but Mr. Murdstone was no replacement.

But Clara wasn’t asking to replace David Copperfield. Only to let someone take care of her for once. It did hurt Felicity that she and Peggotty were not enough. But the love of a man could not be replicated, could it? And Letty was not going to deny her mother.

So Clara Copperfield and Edward Murdstone wed.

And trouble began.

[crowtrobotx]

Writing request: MurderFam adopts Cat!MurderFam.

Your wish is my command! For those unaware, the cats are the kitty versions of Kris, Karl and Lottie that Bri so lovingly wrote for her amazing Warrior Cats fic (which you should read here) What the Cat Dragged In Warnings: None, beyond cursing and some lewd humor. Word count: 2273

“Honey, sit still please.” “I have enough layers on! Mommmm! Let me go!”

Kris tried not to react as Lottie flopped back dramatically onto the kitchen tile, limbs spread starfish-like to emphasize the absolute agony her mother was forcing her to endure by not letting her run outside naked in the dead of winter. Surely child services would arrive at any moment to behold the horror of a child being dressed for the cold and whisk her away to a family that cared. With a sigh, Kris crossed her arms and stood over Lottie, now fully feigning death by sticking her tongue out and pinching her eyes shut. Her fluffy pink earmuffs looked like a second set of buns perched on the sides of her head. “You just need shoes. That’s it - only shoes,” Kris said calmly, gesturing to the snow boots sitting by the door. “Do you think you can survive that? You wouldn’t want wet socks.” “I don’t want to wear those boots. They’re too hot!” “Mmm. And what other boots could I get for you- oh! That’s right! You melted the soles off your second pair when you and Papa insisted on playing lightsabers by the bonfire in autumn. Speaking of which, where is your father? We need to get going - the school bake sale starts in half an hour.” 

Lottie sat up, her grumpy expression diminished slightly at the prospect of changing the subject away from her attire. “He’s outside. Said he was going to the shed because he thought he saw an animal go in last night.” “When did he tell you this?” “Right after breakfast… a while ago, I guess. Maybe he got lost? Should we make a search party? Can I fly a helicopter!?” Kris’s brows furrowed. The shed sat at the very edge of their property, right where the woods began - she could see it from the kitchen window, for heaven’s sake. He had been gone a long time for someone investigating such a relatively small structure, though. Either Karl had met his doom at the paws of a rabid skunk, no doubt engaging in combat to assert dominance over who smelled the worst, or it was the cats.

Two of them, usually - a male and a female. They didn’t typically stay around long, only ever dropping by to make camp for a few days in whatever space they could find amidst Karl’s comically large collection of “vintage” lawn mowers and tools he insisted would be fixed up and resold one day. They’d started showing up a few years prior, not long after Kris and Karl had moved in. At first the cats kept a healthy distance, little more than quick blurs darting out from under the porch. Kris treated them more or less like cows on the highway, something to point out and briefly observe before going back to the monotony of the day. And then, Karl started making even more frequent convenience store stops. He always showed up with a bag of Kris’s favorite sour candies in an attempt to distract her from the copious amount of tuna cans he was stockpiling. He even tried to hide where he was putting them, as if the smell of fish didn’t make it incredibly obvious. Before she knew it, the fluffy tomcat had fallen on top of her head from the support beams the next time she’d entered the garage to speak to her husband, the smaller brown she-cat observing boredly from on high as her mate was nearly punted across the room. “It’s gotta be those furballs again,” she said to no one in particular. She ran a quick hand through her frizzy curls, standing on end seemingly out of frustration with her offspring. “Lottie, please put on your boots and then follow me outside. If I see you come out barefoot, I’m picking the movie tonight.” “Uuuuuughhh… Fiiineee….” The screen door slammed with a bang as Kris marched with purpose across the backyard, beelining for the rickety old shed. What remained of yesterday’s snow mix with mud from the yard squelched unpleasantly underfoot. She wasn’t angry about the cats so much as she was about being late - it gave her tremendous anxiety. Not to mention fucking Debbie would undoubtedly have set up shop right by the exit, where Kris wanted to be; the thought of the woman’s smug face sneering at her while she hawked her flavorless macarons was enough to drive her to madness. No, she would not lose her prime bake sale real estate this year. Not again. She heard it before she saw it, the shed’s perpetually shattered side window allowing the sound to be audible when she was within ten paces. Karl’s voice - so he hadn’t fallen victim to skunk murder. Shame.

Kris didn’t bother knocking - she pushed the creaky wooden door open and entered the damp, warm space with an expression that she hoped conveyed the sort of disappointed maternal look that bent the normally bombastic man to her will. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a figure sitting on a stack of overturned milk crates in the corner began to take form - as did a pair of glowing, irritated eyes.

And there he was, Mr. Tough guy himself, cradling the scraggly grey tomcat like a baby and cooing at it in an uncharacteristically high pitched tone. Kris sighed. It might have been cute if they didn’t have somewhere to be - and if Karl wasn’t deliberately pretending she wasn’t there. The cat was looking at her with an expression that she could only describe as insulted, as if he could not believe her audacity in interrupting his belly rub session. “Having fun?” Kris’s lips twitched. “We were.” Karl was very fond of the male, to put it lightly - though he’d die before he said as much. Kris wasn’t a cat person, but she had exchanged enough glances with the small, brown female to recognize the same exhausted eyes that stared back at her every morning in the bathroom mirror. A kindred spirit, it would seem. The poor thing had lost her tail, and all that remained was a little nub that fluffed up angrily when she was agitated. Which seemed to be often around her ever-meowing mate.

Speaking of which- A quick glance around the space didn’t immediately reveal the little she-cat, to Kris’s surprise chagrin. Unless she’d wedged herself in a corner or under a tarp, she was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s his girlfriend?” Kris asked, trying to sound uninterested. Karl shrugged, the momentary pause in his petting earning him a swift paw to the jaw. He chuckled and resumed his all important task, shifting a bit anxiously in place. “Dunno. Haven’t seen her - she’s probably out getting drunk with her little cat friends and talking shit about this poor baby.” The tomcat purred loudly, swishing his feather duster tail across Karl’s leg. Kris rolled her eyes. She was busy thinking up a witty retort when Lottie’s wheezy self jostled around her from behind, having just sprinted over from the house upon the realization that her parents were spending time together without her, yet another unacceptable grievance. Almost as bad as being forced to wear shoes. “What’re you two doing? What’s that? Is that the cat we saw last summer?” “You’ve got major FOMO, y’know that?” Kris flicked one of her buns affectionately. “Papa was just saying goodbye to his buddy, wasn’t he?” Karl opened his mouth to protest - Kris swore for a brief, insane moment that the cat mirrored his expression - when Lottie tugged on her mother’s jacket sleeve. “Hey, where’s the other one?” God, she’d hoped Lottie wouldn’t ask. For all anyone knew, she was simply hiding or out hunting - but the fact that it was winter, and knowing how many coyotes and foxes they’d already seen this season… she didn’t want to think about it. Kris swallowed her mounting sadness. They’re strays, she told herself. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. Besides, she wasn’t even a cat person - what was she getting so worked up about?As if on command, an irritated meow came from the small storage loft above. The little brown she-cat darted her green eyes curiously between Kris and Lottie before glaring at the tom. Kris snapped her gaze up and failed to contain the relief in her voice as she exclaimed, “Hey, you!” Karl, infuriatingly, noticed. He flashed her one of his Cheshire cat grins, and Kris was ready to launch the nearest rusty tool at his head when the she-cat voiced her indignation once more.

The male meowed in response and flopped awkwardly out of Karl’s lap before bounding on top of the nearby crates and barely making the leap up into the loft. His back paw slipped awkwardly, but he managed it all the same before shaking his fur like a wet dog and trying to look menacing and huge again. He briefly butted heads with his mate before they both turned away from the three humans below, as if deep in hurried conversation. Kris didn’t want to waste any more time on this than they already had - mostly she didn’t need Karl needling her about actually liking a cat. She gestured toward her waiting car in the driveway, loaded to the hilt with brownies that actually tasted good, thank you very much, Debbie. “There, you’ve had your visit. Now can we get going?” “Yeah, yeah.” Karl rose with great effort, the groan he emitted as he simply stood up more akin to someone being stabbed to death rather than simply stretching their back. “Hey, wait!” Lottie suddenly pointed upward toward the ats and bounced eagerly on her toes, craning her short neck to try to see something. The female hopped down first, gracefully, and made her way to Kris’s legs. She wound her sleek little form around them a few times, and Kris couldn’t resist bending and giving her a quick ear scritch before Lottie nearly shrieked with delight. With a heavy thump, the tomcat landed on the crates again, this time carrying a furious fuzzball in his jaws. The little grey kitten hissed furiously, its short limbs flailing with irritation at having been removed from their warm nest. The proud father strutted over to Karl to present the little spitting terror while the mother appeared unbothered, ignoring her offspring’s protests and blinking slowly up at Kris to gauge her reaction. She wasn’t sure if cats understood thumbs up, but that was all she could think to give the expectant creature. “Well, look at that!” Karl clapped his hands together delightedly. “You old bastard, you got some swimmers that still work?” “Aww, I said the same thing to you after we got married,” Kris kissed her husband’s cheek, reveling in his sour expression. 

“IT’S A KITTEN!!!!!” Karl barely caught Lottie before she lunged forward, pure mania in her eyes. “Lottie, shhh,” Kris suppressed the urge to laugh lest it startle the cats. “Yes, it’s a kitten. A very cute one. Try to stay calm, we don’t want to scare them away.” Her daughter was practically vibrating with excitement. The tomcat plopped the little grey kitten, his clone in almost every way, on the dirt floor where it proceeded to fluff up to twice its size and stand stock still. Its eyes were like saucers as it observed Lottie, unsure of whether to run or launch itself at her face. Ever the extrovert, Lottie dropped to her hands and knees and introduced herself, loudly, to the kitten. She crouched until her chin was practically on the ground and made herself as small and unthreatening as possible. The kitten slowly deflated, shuffling forward and flashing tiny teeth nervously before batting Lottie’s nose to garner a response. Lottie only laughed and extended a chubby little hand for it to sniff. A few cautious sniffs later and the little beast was hesitantly allowing itself to be petted clumsily on the head, even letting a few purrs escape here and there. “Well… I’m glad this had a happy ending,” Kris muttered. The she-cat at her feet went to go inspect her kitten while the male watched happily from his lounge atop an old dusty stool. “We should really, really leave, though. How will Lottie’s junior robotics club survive if I don’t fundraise half the budget with my astonishing selection of baked goods? Come on, old man.” “Sheesh, alright. Does your girl bother you this much?” The tomcat yowled pathetically at Karl in response. “Yeah, I know, buddy… I know. It’s torture.” Kris and the she-cat glanced at one another, a sort of shared understanding that transcended species passing between them. Both of the boys were going to husband jail tonight. “Can we keep them!?” Lottie begged as the kitten scaled her face onto her head as if conquering a mountain. “Yes,” Karl announced, drowning out Kris’s softer “no.” She wanted to protest, but frankly the urge had fled. It wasn’t worth it. Not while Debbie was out there making gains already. “Fine,” Kris conceded at last. She turned to leave, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder as she made her way back toward the house. “Fine, but you two are keeping them fed and changing their litterboxes. And buying them toys, and taking them to the vet…. And we need to talk about neutering the fella.”

“NO!” Karl stomped a foot angrily. “Don’t disrespect my boy like that! Don’t even joke about it!”

Kris had half a mind to comment that she was referring to him, but decided she’d had enough tantrum delays for one afternoon.

[aredhel-erinti]

Love and Redemption – Bailin

Behold! A meta about Bailin from Love and Redemption, if there’s anyone interested. It’s quite long, so be warned...

Many thanks to my dear @nieninque-nyerea for huge help with the translation from my mother tongue - I would never have the mental strength to do it by my self!

Bailin

Bailin is a complicated character... and that's the reason why it's so sad that all opinions about him are so simplified and can be summed up in three words "he's the worst". Because he isn't... and at the same time, yes, he definitely is. As you can see, the situation is complicated. It's honestly quite surprising how much people want to simplify his actions and character, especially considering the complex psyche of the main trio (or quartet, depending on viewer's philosophy) which makes the whole story so interesting, compelling and surprising (with a help of the wonderful secondary characters, but shh :)). I guess human desire for simple, black and white answers is our greatest superpower…

I would like to start with a small polemic about whether Bailin is a villain. I realize I'm being a bit loose with the terminology here, but I'd argue that he is not a villain. "What?" I hear the indignant voice of the internet – as if we didn't have enough evidence that in the end it was all his fault! (And there really is plenty of evidence.) If I may, I would call Bailin more of an antagonist, someone who is in opposition to the hero – if we consider Si Feng  the hero of the story, then completely deliberately, if the hero is Xuan Ji/Rahu Ketu, then Bailin is in opposition which he himself is hardly aware of, or at least does not admit to. As horrible as Bailin's actions are (and they are), what's really interesting are his motivations. So, enough of the quibble – what is really Bailin's deal?

The answer is very surprising in its simplicity – it's all about doing good. That's right - Bailin is unable to see his actions as problematic, let alone evil, because he firmly believes that whatever he does, he is acting in the service of what is „right“. Terrible is the surprise at the end of the story for him and his subjects, who got dragged along by the unbreakable strength of his conviction that what they are doing is right. (Flying Snake is the only exception, and even his dilemma it is not about the goodness of Heavenly Realm, but about the choice of duty vs friends.) It is not unusual in stories that even a completely unadulterated villain, let alone an antagonist, is convinced of the rightness of his behavior and the hero is primary someone who ignores his motivations and constantly stands in his way, and is therefore in the villain's/antagonist's interest to get rid of them. (We could include the relationship between Bailin and Si Feng into this category.) It is considerably less common when the antagonist is not aware of his opposition to the hero, and is even convinced on fundemental level that everything he does is only helping the hero - even if it‘s the very disintegration of hero's personality. And that is exactly the relationship between Bailin and Xuan Ji/Rahu Ketu. When one looks back at all of Bailin's actions, crimes, and even wilful acts it's actually surprising that his plan isn't more sinister and his motivations far darker. After all, Bailin really wants victory over the enemy (in his case, the victory of Heavenly Realm over demons), and in doing so he does not stand out from the ranks of other characters on both sides of the conflict. What makes Bailin truly unique is the radicality and disproportionality of his solutions, which often not only worsen the entire problem, but in several cases directly cause a brand new one. And all of this happens while Bailin is fully convinced of his truth, his rationality and the infallibility of his own decisions.

And that brings us to what is Bailin really like. Bailin does not have to be inherently evil to be destructive - both to himself and to others. He only needs two characteristics to do this, and both can be summed up in one problem - the lack of (appropriate) self-reflection.

These two characteristics are paranoia and lying to himself (especially in emotional matters).

Bailin belongs to that group of people who believe there is someone after them. Who? Everyone, anyone. The world is full of tricks and traps, you can't trust anyone, except maybe those you have authority over, and even there you're on a thin ice. You can't rely on anyone - and trusting someone emotionally is out of the question! It is always necessary to count on the worst possibility imaginable and look for the worst conceivable motive in others. Bailin's decisions in their monstrosity unsurprisingly match this mindset. Why wouldn't he decide for the worst possible solution, when he is convinced that only his own alertness and preparedness prevent others from using similar weapon against him?

To paranoia is strongly linked lying to oneself. In the world as Bailin sees it, is no place for weakness, hesitation, trust, let alone feelings. All of these things make Bailin (in his mind) an easy prey. Feelings most of all – for him to have feelings for anyone would be a tragedy indeed! It is necessary to fight against these things, or rather to deny their existence, not only in front of others, but above all in front of yourself. All unpleasant feelings and unexpected emotions can be rationalized! Woe be him who tries to impose feelings and emotions on you while you are working so hard for the good of Heavenly Realm! The problem is that Bailin is a good liar - he manages to manipulate a number of characters throughout the story, but he doesn't manipulate anyone better than himself.

Such relationship with reality can be deadly enough on itself, but the circumstances of Bailin's life take it to a truly terrifying extreme. Bailin is no nobody, he is the king of Heavenly Realm (I don't know the exact title), and the ongoing war with demons directly affects him. The very necessity of winning would justify a lot in Bailin's eyes. And into that comes Rahu Ketu and the much-hated feelings and emotions. Bailin does not understand himself - or, more precisely, does not want to understand himself. He is in a complicated situation and he knows only two things for sure. First: there is a war that is not going well, and he must win it – but it is the demons who hold all the triumphs in the form of their strongest general. In order for Bailin to win, he will have to get rid of this obstacle. Second: It is the same demon general that he must get rid of, without whom he cannot imagine his life. But Bailin doesn't like to think about that.

Bailin's paranoia does not allow him to accept or even imagine any other solution to their situation than victory, preferably an absolute victory – the enemy cannot be trusted, just as one cannot trust any peace designs, even should the enemy party come up with them. If Bailin doesn't attack first, in the fastest and smartest way, they will definitely lose! Of course, he can't even trust that „friend“ who sits and drinks with him so often, Bailin mustn't be fooled! Although he might wish they could sit together like this forever...

The solution Bailin will choose is a truly horrifying display of rationalized paranoia.

He is not committing a war crime, he is just doing what is necessary for Heavenly Realm to win! (Regarding the war crime: I'm sure poisoning a peace messenger would fall in this category. And yes, Bailin didn't know what message Rahu Ketu carried, but he would have known if he had listened to him. But he won't because he convinced himself such thing is not possible – that it will be either his solution or his loss. But even if we give him the benefit if doubt for not knowing, the attack was still made by trickery during friendly negotiation.)

And it's not like he wants to keep Rahu Ketu with him at all times, so he can never leave him, faithful and stripped of any identity that could possibly cause them to become enemies again! No, he is merely providing a weapon for Heavenly Realm which they never had and that will guarantee their victory!

And he doesn't at all take revenge on all the demons (including Rahu Ketu) when he orders God of War to slaughter her own people and her king. No, he's just making sure the rebellion will never happen again! So what – God of War will never even remember who she is, or realize who she killed, so why would it matter???

All altruistic and selfless reasons! In one move Bailin won the war and got rid of all his enemies. How could that be wrong??

In the same way it is later absolutely necessary that Xuan Ji does not regain her senses - not because she could then fall in love and forever leave Bailin for Si Feng, but because she could then become terrible, evil (or rather rightfully pissed off) demon and destroy the whole world! And if that strategy fails, then it's necessary to get rid of Xuan Ji, Si Feng and Jade Cup, because evil demon, war, and the destruction of the world are all serious problems - they don't necessarily have anything to do with the fact that Bailin really does not want to meet Rahu Ketu again and face him after all the things he had done to him.

From Bailin's point of view all of his decisions seem reasonable and sound. Logical. As if there really was nothing else to do. Of course, the problem is that Bailin's perception of the world is anything but reasonable and sound. It's paranoid and distorted – the demons are asking for peace after all, Rahu Ketu's feelings are sincere and he's not plotting any treachery or attack, Si Feng isn't after him... we could go on. Bailin can pass off his paranoia as rationality only by the force of his will and his own lies. But he indeed has a strong will and had believed his own lies a long time ago.

And so finally, Bailin stands before us as we know him - in his own eyes, and in the eyes of many, the paragon of goodness, purity and fighting for the right thing, especially in a world where the enemy could be everywhere, even (or maybe especially?) among one's closest people. Bailin shines so brightly precisely because he firmly believes that what he is doing is right. He relies on his own abilities and his own judgment, because his suspiciousness does not allow him to trust the judgment and motives of others. He is controlling, dominating even , because deep down he fears abandonment (without acknowledging it) and he is not able in front of himself to call love by its real name - he'd rather dress it up in a guise of usefulness and calculation, because what he fears most of all is to be loved only to be betrayed. If that should be the case, isn't it less painful to betray first?

Rahu Ketu is the person Bailin loves in all his complexity, including the potential danger he represents. God of War is the same beloved person, robbed of everything that could threaten Bailin – loyalty to the enemy, knowledge of her past, awareness of her own self; she is ideal because she is Bailin's and she cannot leave or betray him – she would be leaving and betraying her only identity. (Or rather Bailin thinks she can't, but life sucks...) Xuan Ji, on the other hand, is for Bailin the worst possible version of the same person: she's another erasure, a desperate attempt to recreate the person God of War was before her rebellion. But this time she doesn't know or love Bailin and her will is her own. She is not burdened by Rahu Ketu's consciousness, and yet Bailin has to watch her "worst" instincts win for nine lifetimes. When the tenth life comes, Bailin panics and heads down to Earth to get her back under his control before it's too late. But alas, it's too late already – while he wasn't with Xuan Ji, someone else had been... Bailin has hurt all three versions of his beloved person – denying or trying to deny each of them the right to freedom, an independent life and, what is most painfull, their own identity. Rahu Ketu states many times that he is not Xuan Ji and wants nothing to do with her, even though Xuan Ji undoubtedly is a part of him – but it's the part that was forced on him, that he was bound into, and for that Bailin can't be so easily forgiven... And Bailin, high above everyone in his white clouds but unable to admit the truth, says: "I didn't do anything wrong, just what was necessary!"

So what's the conclusion? Is Bailin really "the worst"? As I said in the beginning – he is, as well as he isn't… but for me Bailin is primarily tragic figure. He is definitely the person whose decision will negatively affect the largest number of people. His decisions are some of the worst. But his motivations... are surprisingly pure, although absolutely misguided. Bailin doesn't want to commit evil – he just hasn't realized that he is doing exactly that. What is worse – conscious malice or a mistaken belief in one's own sanctity, is up to everyone. Bailin's actions and their appalling utilitarianism cannot be very well defended, but I would find extenuating circumstances in his motivations.

And it's not only that - perhaps the most telling part is the end of Bailin's story. Because in the end Bailin submits and admits his fault. Yes, a higher up must appear - Bailin is too convinced that the world, as seen through his paranoia, is the real world so it is impossible for anyone but the ultimate authority to open his eyes - the most powerful one and the one with "the patent for the truth", the one in whose interest was Bailin convinced he has been acting. Metaphorically speaking, Bailin must cry out upwards: I did it all for You and for the sake of  Heavenly Realm! And he must hear emperor's „no“ to find humility. But Bailin‘s humility is real - such humility can only exist in someone who was not only truly convinced that he was doing the right thing, but who also sincerely wanted to do the right thing. Bailin's humility is beautiful in its tragedy - although Bailin had a habit of listening mostly only to himself, his ego is not what matters the most to him. The prosperity of Heavenly Realm is what matters the most, so the knowledge of his own failure is therefore more painful to him than any punishment.

Simply put, Bailin has a beautiful “Am I a baddie?” moment, and the most tragic part of the whole situation is that this really is a brand new information for him. What should he do with himself now?

All that remains is to drink the offered cup, resigned to his fate.

It's a different punishment than voluntarily giving up one's powers – that was an acknowledgment of incompetence, of mistakes. I surrender that with which I have done much evil in the name of good. I'm giving up my powers because I can't no longer trust myself.

This is a different kind of punishment - it carries hope. It carries within itself a new chance to get it right.

Perhaps at the very end, Rahu Ketu isn't really asking for a punishment, but for a sign of trust - a sign of the biggest change Bailin will have to go through.

Will you drink? Will you relinquish the control, you've clung to, the one for which you've ruined so many lives? Because of which you ruined my life? Will you overcome your fear and walk with me into the unknown? I already know what it's like to lose control, what it's like to be tossed around by forces more powerful than yourself and don't even know your own name - will you dare? Can you surrender yourself to the world and the people in it with the faith that they won't hurt you?

Will you drink with me?

[chawsl]

Tragic endings of famous people who did not control their tongues.

*John Lennon (Singer):*

Some years ago, during his interview with an American Magazine, he said:

'Christianity will end, it will disappear.

I do not have to argue about that.. I am certain.

Jesus was ok, but his subjects were too simple, today we are more famous than Him' (1966).

Lennon, after saying that the Beatles were more famous than Jesus Christ, was shot six times.

*Tancredo Neves (President of Brazil ):*

During the Presidential campaign, he said if he got 500,000 votes from his party, not even God could remove him from Presidency.

Sure he got the votes, but he got sick a day before his inauguration as President and he died.

*Cazuza (Bi-sexual Brazilian composer, singer and poet):**

During A show in Canecio ( Rio de Janeiro ),

while smoking his cigarette, he puffed out some smoke into the air and said:

'God, that's for you.'

He died at the age of 32 of LUNG CANCER in a horrible way.

*The man who built the Titanic:*

After the construction of the Cruise Ship, Titanic, a reporter asked him how safe the Titanic would be.

He said:

'Not even God can sink it'

The result: The Titanic sank'.

*Marilyn Monroe (Actress):*

She was visited by Billy Graham during a presentation of a show.

He said the Spirit of God had sent him to preach to her.

After hearing what the Preacher had to say, she said: 'I don't need your Jesus'.

A week later, she was found dead in her apartment

*Bon Scott (Singer):*

The ex-vocalist of the AC/DC. On one of his 1979 songs he sang:

'Don't stop me; I'm going down all the way, down the highway to hell'.

On the 19th of February 1980, Bon Scott was found dead, he had been choked by his own vomit.

*Campinas (IN 2005):*

In Campinas , Brazil, a group of friends, drunk, went to pick up a friend.....

The mother accompanied her to the car and was so worried about the drunkenness of her friends. And she said to the daughter holding her hand, who was already seated in the car:

'My Daughter, Go With God And May He Protect You.'

She responded: 'Only If He (God) Travels In The Trunk, 'Cause Inside Here.....It's Already Full '

Hours later, news came that they had been involved in a fatal accident, everyone had died.

No one could not recognize what type of car it had been, but surprisingly, the trunk was intact.

The police said there was no way the trunk could have remained intact.

To their surprise, inside the trunk was a crate of eggs, none was broken

*Christine Hewitt (Jamaican Journalist and entertainer):*

She said the Bible (Word of God) was the worst Book ever written.

In June 2006 she was found burnt beyond recognition in her car.

So *control your tongues and be careful about what you say.

*Repent for every rudeness, careless word, dirty jokes, vulgar language, swearing, lies, curses, gossip, slanders, insults and accusations.

*Everyone will have to give an account on judgement day for every careless word spoken.

*Let your words be always gracious, comforting, beneficial, encouraging and inspiring to others.

*Then you will have favor and honor with God and men. You will also be *well respected and admired. *And you will have good health, long life, prosperity and blessings.

*There is no other Name that was given so much authority as the Name of Jesus Christ.*

Jesus Christ died and rose again, and He is still alive....

Jesus said:

'If you are ashamed about Me, I will also be ashamed about you before My Father. (God)

If you reject Me I will also reject you. If you honor Me, I will honor you".- Luke 9:-26

[toughknit]

do you have a fav book rn? I wanna read something new and like to ask randoms for recommendations :p

answering this reminded me of the pile of unread poetry books on my desk lol. this won’t reflect my actual taste because my mother tongue isnt english but here’s still a few suggestions of all-time and recent favourites :D

mrs dalloway - virginia woolf

the ravishing of lol stein - marguerite duras

lighthousekeeping - jeanette winterson (the rest of her books are alright, this one is good)

poets like t.s. eliot , louise glück. anne carson but thats obvious. read plainwater if you havent. read wuthering heights, or watch the new emily brontë (romanticized) biopic, then read the glass essay. start any of the brontë sisters novel if you like the subject enough (heads up i had to stop reading charlotte brontë she hated herself too much)

gravity and grace by simone weil. wont recommend other philosophers for the moment im sulking a few books for being misogynistic

patriarchy of the wage by silvia federici really did something to me when i was a baby radical 2 years ago

damm thats basically just white people. Read the kingdom of surfaces by sally wen mao. love and strange horses by nathalie handal. theres a lot of books i cant recommend because theyre in french or i read half a pdf in class. im very passionate about reading and still delirious from my sickness/period combo so here’s my answer. you probably asked the best worst person for that stuff hahaaaa!!!

[mr-nauseam]

What is the chronological order of bad ending series? Sorry if it's a dumb question but I want to read works from this series chronologically and I'm not sure if the order of the series on ao3 is like that

Hi. First of all vicó and I are very happy that you have interest in reading our au 🤗, I hope you have a good time with our fanfics and I don't think it's a dumb question!!

I would say that the order of the series in ao3 is mostly chronological but still is a bit messy so I'm telling you the exact order☝️

.

Bad Ending Au

The long road that Sejanus Plinth walk to be the ideal husband of President Snow.

or: Snowjanus are trapped in the most dysfunctional marriage.

.

Before we start I would like to clarify that vicó and I are still writing from this au, we still have many stories to tell so it's a work in progress, which is still being updated.

So about the 13 works that currently are on the series in ao3

Chronology

. . .

1. I thought you were my saviour

On a snowy day Sejanus wanders around depressed until he crosses paths with Coriolanus in his embarrassing attempt to babysit two adorable children

2. Washing Machine Heart

Festus has to put up with Coriolanus trying to gaslight the entire academy

___

Both stories are mainly about the academy era

3. Tongues and Teeth

Coriolanus Snow's life is falling apart. He has lost the Snow ancestral home. Sejanus helps him pretend to be rich and his Grandma'am with dementia keeps calling him Crassus every time she sees him.

4. the positive

somehow, sejanus' week started with some nausea and ended with his father yelling at him in his office.

___

One of the most plotwise stories we have. Here we talk about the life of snowjanus post the 10th games.

5. déjà vu

casca highbottom sees sejanus plinth, now married to coriolanus snow, for the first time after graduation. he can't help but be disturbed at the feeling that he has seen this before.

6. Sleepwalker

Coriolanus suffers from sleep paralysis and Sejanus helps him to endure the night.

7. if you need to be mean, be mean to me

sejanus moved with coriolanus to the snow's apartment at the corso. he has to deal with coriolanus' cruel grandmother and her unpredictable behavior that seems to only get worse by the day.

8. Me and my husband

Sejanus who carries the child of Coriolanus Snow, his beloved husband realizes at the worst moment how similar his life looks to that of his mother.

___

Stories that happen as a result of the end of Tongues and Teeth. All are set after the wedding of snowjanus and tell about the beginning of their marriage - 1st pregnancy of Sejanus.

if you need to be mean, be mean to me. Its other of the most plotwise stories we have.

9. She knows (Tigris Pov)

10. Baby Shower

___

Scenes you can find in Broken pieces: from me, from you - A compilation of loose scenes, these two belonging to this era.

11. District Whore

Coriolanus fucks Sejanus, his husband in the bed of his dead grandmother.

12. He don't love you anymore (fight)

You can find it on Broken pieces: from me, from you.

___

Stories set before the 1st divorce attempt

13. I wanna be yours

Every dysfunctional marriage has divorce attempts. Coriolanus and Sejanus are no exception.

Here is how they come back together.

___

A story set during their divorce era

14. my boy only breaks his favorite toys

coriolanus is going through a re-election campaign, and of course, this also meant subjecting his lovely husband to endless photo sessions for promotional ads. codependency is a funny thing. while sejanus wanted to kill his husband, he also just wanted to make sure he wouldn't leave him anymore.

15. julius snow's list

julius' pa is going to have a second child. he wants to do his best to help him and, with the help of his friends, he makes a list about it. but there's something wrong. did his friends lie to him?

___

Stories that tell of Sejanus's 2nd pregnancy and explore a little more about how fucked up the snowjanus marriage is by that time. Both are very plotwise.

. . .

And that's all for now. Thank you for your ask 🤗🤗

Pd: Oh and please read the tags of each fic in ao3 carefully. The vast majority of these works are hurt no comfort, angst and there is mpreg in there.

[hauntedtrait]

omg i got tagged by a bunch of people ( love y'all ) so thank you to @westernraspberry @missatan @alt-simz @morrigan-sims and @wildmelon for tagging me! you're all very lovely and sweet <3

✨ 15 questions ✨

are you named after anyone? sort of. my legal/birth middle name is after my dad’s first deceased wife ( she was not my mother ).

when was the last time you cried? a few days ago for sure, i don’t remember exactly when.

do you have kids? nope, dont want them either

do you use sarcasm a lot? honestly i dont know i barely know what sarcasm is

what sports do you play/have you played? i used to play volleyball, and i did ballet, tap dance and flamenco

what's the first thing you notice about other people? the way they move

eye color? dark brown babey

scary movies or happy endings? scawwy

any special talents? i can bend my tongue 3 ways

where were you born? the us unfortunately but i grew up in brazil which honestly i think is more important than birthplace idk

what are your hobbies? video games, watching tv/movies, cooking, crochet and guitar when/if my arthritis allows it

do you have any pets? ive got 2 black cats

how tall are you? 5'5

fave subject in school? in high school? english cuz it was easy as fuck since this was in brazil and i could just do whatever and fuck around in class since my teachers knew i was already fluent in english lol. in college… python programming was the best class ive taken so far.

dream job? none im disabled and tired i do NOT wanna work, working is exhausting and painful and i hate it, and i already have what was once my “dream” job and i hate it lmao tho that has more to do with my boss being the worst and making everything a nightmare and graphic design clients being fucking stupid and useless.

tagging @gothoffspring@rainymoodlet @mangosimoothie @deathbypufferfish @bibliosims @aniraklova ( sorry if y'all did this already just ignore me ) & YOU reading this!