#sorry for there being so many. i had commentary

[mejaemin]

nonchalant- jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

summary: clingy wonu /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

warnings: streamer!wonu, writer!reader, fluff, not proofread !!!

an: i can think of so many ways to make a pt.2 to this… will i? nope!

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the letters on your laptop’s keyboard are surely to start fading any time soon, but it’s worth it. especially right now. there’s yet to be a single time where you’ve felt this much inspiration in your entire career, so you refuse to let this go to waste. your eyes flicker to the notebook sitting next to you, information on the paper translating in your mind and being typed out into coherent sentences on the document.

you’re really proud of what you’ve written so far. you had your boyfriend read your unorganized thoughts you had set out for the plot and what not, and he thinks it’s good too. once your brain felt ready to start writing the real thing, your fingers were flying. you slipped your headphones on, essentially blocking out the entire world as you worked. you started when it was still light out, and you’ve only gotten up to use the bathroom, really. it’s dark now, and although he’s not working quite as hard, you can still sense your boyfriend moving around the house, making commentary as he pre records gaming content.

he’s left you alone so far. he’s not the type to nag you too much about taking care of yourself, especially when he’s already learnt his lesson about interrupting you when you have one of these moments of inspiration. not to mention he has times like this too, even if it was for something like a long term livestream. still, he treats you how he would want to be treated in the same situation. by that he means undisturbed… with the occasional interruption, of course. he likes to have his game time but if he isn’t filming he still wants to be with you.

your phone is on do not disturb, keeping wonwoo’s obnoxious friends and their instagram reel notifications from disturbing your work, so when a message notification dings through your headphones you know who it is.

won🖤: Are you almost done yet?

won🖤: I’ve finished recording.

you: no, sorry love :( i still have some left in me.

you: just a little more, okay?

won🖤: Just a little more. I try not to be that guy, but you really should stop soon. Eat something

you reacted with 👍

setting your phone down, you crack your knuckles with a sigh. you were reaching the end of your inspiration spark, so you really wanted to rush to get whatever you could in. it’s extremely rare that this happens, and you couldn’t stress it enough. you’ve got deadlines to meet, and for this to happen to you was literally perfect. you’re basically set, and might even be able to take a day off tomorrow.

you’ve gotten back onto your groove, putting the music on high while you work. you’re typing word after word, paragraph after paragraph flawlessly. everything you’ve been mapping out for weeks is finally coming to fruition, and it’s doing so perfectly. you’re so zoned in that you don’t notice when wonwoo comes in, only taking note of his presence when the weight shifts on the bed and his head lands on your shoulder.

you pause, pulling the headphones off your head. “do you need something?” you ask, hand instinctively coming to brush through his hair.

he looks up at you, and you’re sure he doesn’t notice the way he’s pouting. it’s rare that he’d be like that voluntarily. “how far are you? you’re almost done?”

“mm, i don’t think so.. sorry. i really need to make the most of this or else i’ll never get this finished.” you kiss the top of his head, and as soon as you put your hand back towards the keyboard he grabs it.

“you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“yeah, i noticed. but i’ll do just a little more, ‘kay?” you kiss his crown and return to work.

you finish the second to last plot point you had mapped out, and now you’re just revising what you done so far. even by your own standards you’ve done enough, and since wonwoo is indirectly begging you to spend time with him (in his own way) by clinging to your side, you suppose you can stop for now. it hasn’t even been that long and you can see him looking from his phone to you every three seconds. it’s cute really, how he’s trying so hard to be nonchalant about it when he wants to spend time with you so bad. every time he wants your attention, he sort of hovers around you and stares at you until you give it to him. he’ll never say it out loud, but he’s definitely going to be obvious about it in other ways.

you shut your computer and set it on the night stand, turning towards him fully. the corners of wonwoo’s mouth twitch as he tried to hold back his smile, but you know he’s happy that he’s won.

“you’re done now? are you gonna go back to work, or are you really done?” he asks, sitting up and readjusting his glasses.

you giggle at his cuteness, kissing his cheek. “yes, nonu. you’ve got my full, undivided attention now, ‘kay?”

he’s already up before you are, rambling about how excited he is to spend the rest of the night with you, even if it’s already late. he’s walking into the kitchen to make ramen for you, talking about eating it together while watching something, and then stopping to ponder about what to do after. you trail behind him, a smile on your face. your nonchalant, black cat boyfriend who uses very few words will throw it all out the window if it means getting your attention and keeping it for a good moment.

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[arsenicflame]

ANGELA/SERA FROM THE MARVEL SNAP HERO ANIMATIC

[grape-eating-vampire]

I really really really dislike Marvel and the whole timeline-bullshitfuckery they've got going on, but I did go to see Deadpool & Wolverine (bc I'm nothing if not a Deadpool fangirl at heart) in the cinema today and when I tell you I was laughing so much at the little wink he does after "pegging isn't new for me, but it is for Disney ;)"

[tarakau]

.

[subtlesolitude-tailoredtaste]

🧠🔫🧿

[cherrybomb107]

I literally wouldn’t have cared if they decided to pull a Cyberpunk Edgerunners and kill off our entire main cast save for one or two characters and let the bad guys(the establishment) win. Tragedy isn’t the problem. The problem is the way they went about it. The show had so many plot threads to tie up, there was never any time to truly reckon with all the tragedies that were occurring.

Ekko losing his tree because of Arcane poisoning would be tragic. Notice I said “would be” because that plot line is literally never addressed again. It gets brought up, and then forgotten about. Vi being hit by her girlfriend after she makes the decision to put on the uniform of her oppressors and contribute to oppressing her own people in pursuit of a little sister who she can’t accept has changed is tragic on multiple levels! That’s some compelling shit! But the show never meaningfully addresses these issues or lets Vi react to them without throwing her into a new situation where she has to fight and lose something again. All Vi has ever done her entire life is try and fail to protect her loved ones. She gets punished for trying. It’s almost like the universe itself is out to get her! But we never see Vi break down and pick herself back up. We never see her make any choices to do what’s best for her. The plot decided for her and that’s the problem!

Vi and Jinx deciding to go their separate ways after all that they’ve been through would’ve been tragic. These two sister who love each other more than anything having to break apart for who knows how long and holding onto the hope that maybe they can reunite and be sisters again is gut wrenching…or at least it WOULD be if they actually decided to separate! Vi didn’t decide to leave her sister, Jinx didn’t decide to leave Vi, the narrative forced them apart! The narrative keeps ripping them away from each other and it’s starting to feel intentional. Trying to tell the audience that the only way Vi can truly be happy and choose herself is by having her baby sister die and being forced to live with her girlfriend in a city that will be extremely discriminatory towards her is not it. I’m not saying that Vi and Jinx have to ride off into the sunset together. But I am saying that if going their separate ways really was for the best, the show wouldn’t spend so much time trying to convince us of that. It would just happen organically. Which, to me, it didn’t

Jinx losing Isha was yet another tragedy! But the show doesn’t really show Jinx grieving and then deciding to fight for what she believes in after Ekko convinces her to try. She tried to kill herself five times. FIVE TIMES!!! How on Earth did she go from that to a badass piloting an airship, dripped out with her new outfit and steeled sense of resolve? We don’t know because it happened offscreen! I understand the show had time constraints, but come on. This plot line deserved more time to shine. Sevika being on the Council is a tragedy. It’s an empty gesture for one, and majority rules for two. That means Sevika will be forced to try to barter for Zaun’s freedom while being surrounded by a bunch of classist Piltie pricks who despise her and everything she stands for. She will be talked over and talked down to. That’s not a happy ending! But the show frames it like it is! And I’m sorry but if you can’t watch interviews of the writers saying their thoughts on the show and you genuinely believe that they have the range to write Sevika being on the Council as thoughtful commentary? No comment😭😭😭

Caitlyn’s corruption arc is yet another tragedy! Both because of what happened to her AND the fact that the arc wasn’t done! Caitlyn’s arc was supposed to show how no matter how “good” and “kind” a privileged person believes them self to be, their unconscious bias and prejudice against the out group will rear its ugly head the second they experience a fraction of what the marginalized group has been experiencing for centuries. It was so easy for Caitlyn to say “I understand now. How easy it is to hate them.” “Those animals!” “I thought you were different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins!” How easy it was for her to weaponize The Gray. How easy it was for her to work with Ambessa and co sign martial law despite knowing better. How easy it was for her to risk killing a child just to get to Jinx. That’s super compelling! But the problem is we never see Caitlyn wrestle with her decisions. Guilt should be eating her ALIVE and all we get is a complete 180 from her after a time skip! Then she does nothing to redeem herself! And once again, no the writers absolutely did not intend that to be commentary on how the privileged are able to get away with things the lower class would be imprisoned/killed for. If they did then Caitlyn could’ve had a confrontation with someone from Zaun, whether that be Sevika, Ekko, Jinx, Vi or someone else, where they call her out on her hypocrisy. Then we would see her wrestle with that and realize the monster that she’s become.

Unfortunately, all these tragedies are not given the proper narrative weight they deserve. Or they’re not treated as tragedies when they so clearly are! THAT’S the problem! It’s not tragedy, it’s the framing! And it’s the way y’all are so condescending whenever someone criticizes the show. Why is every single critique met with “You didn’t watch/understand the show”? Why is it always “What were you expecting?” “You’re just mad it didn’t go your way.” “You’re just a hater.” “You have no idea how hard writing a script is.” “They planned the story from the beginning, this is how it was supposed to be.” And on and on and on. It’s exhausting! Why is it so hard for y’all to understand that it is possible to understand and have love for something but still have gripes with it? It doesn’t mean I love the show any less! It just means I’d love it even more if not for these certain aspects of it. That’s it, that’s all🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[ghostfacd]

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

[bigbuffjoonie]

SEOKJIN PLEASE LMAO

I ran out of tag space I’m so sorry in advance but I just wanted to say I love that their names are Dark Hobi and Evil Yoongi lmao bc that also means in canon either they call themselves that or the heroes call them that and either way is so funny to me 😂

Versus | MYG, JHS - Chapter Two

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, crack, enemies to lovers, Villains!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - daggers & laser gauntlets, swearing, mentions of blood, fighting (superhero workout-style), masturbation (m), allusion to shower sex

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Supervillain exes Yoongi and Hoseok are sick and tired of having their plans for world domination wrecked by you, aka Vitality, the world’s most powerful superhero. When fellow villain Jimin suggests a little competition to see who can bring you to your knees, they both eagerly accept. Now the battle is on as both men engage you in fight after fight to see who will conquer you first. Will you finally defeat these two, or will they destroy you - and possibly take each other out in the process?

A/N: The challenge has been accepted, now it's time to establish the rules! And introduce a few other key players. Also, uh, gird yourselves, here comes the angst. Just a little!

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Chapter One ✨ Series Masterlist ✨ Chapter Three

CHAPTER TWO - THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Hobi stalks angrily through his lair. Struts, actually. Not intentionally. It’s just how he walks, like the world’s his runway. Helps that he’s usually dressed to kill, both literally and figuratively. 

At the moment, he’s striding towards his weapons room wearing a stunning embroidered Louis Vuitton suit that has all of his henchmen doing double takes, and not just because of the splattered blood staining the luxe threads.

The life of a henchman is hard, as one constantly risks bodily injury time and time again for one’s leader, but working for someone who looks like that helps to soften the blows a bit. 

Hobi glares into the retinal scanner outside the weapons depot and the doors slide open as it recognizes his chestnut orbs. It also recognizes his glare. 

“Rough day, daddy?” a robotic voice purrs overhead. 

“Yes, Jin, today was shit,” Hobi declares as he returns his laser gauntlets to their place in his vast arsenal. “And I thought I told you not to call me that?”

“Sorry, sir,” the integrated A.I. system replies. Hobi rolls his eyes in annoyance. Perhaps it was a mistake giving the Synthetic Electronic Optimum Knowledge Jung Intelligence Network aka S.E.O.K.J.I.N. (Jin for short) sentience. The first thing it did upon rebooting was declare its undying devotion to Hobi. Which means an endless stream of ridiculous terms of endearment. Or pet names. Or worse.

Hobi’s starting to fear he’s going to grind his teeth into dust.

“Want to tell me all about it?” Jin inquires, automatically opening the vault door to Hobi’s inner sanctum.

“Not particularly.” He’d rather not rehash his day. It was painful enough living through it. 

Of course, Jin is undaunted. “Did the meeting at Jimin’s not go well?”

Hobi’s lithe fingers work the knot in his tie, loosening it until he’s able to tug the thin strip of fabric from his neck. “It was fine. Productive. We nailed down the rules of engagement for Jimin’s contest.” 

The terms of the challenge are concise and clear:

No outside help

No teaming up

The competition ends when Vitality draws her last breath. The man responsible wins.

The first rule is the most important. No outside help means neither can ask for assistance from any other villains, including Jimin, who must remain an impartial observer, as he so haughtily put it. The only exception is the allowance for both to continue to use Jimin’s power disrupters. 

Jimin originally decreed that the disrupters were banned, but swiftly reversed course and said they could use them since they already had them. The meeting then paused so Jungkook could apply some bandages to Jimin before he bled out all over his newly-cleaned rug.

As far as Hobi is concerned, rule two is completely unnecessary. Moving on. 

The final rule is mainly a technicality, making sure everyone understands the goal here. Once that annoying little superhero is gone, the victor will be declared. And to the victor go the spoils. Namely, a straight line to world domination, and the knowledge that they’re the superior villain, second to none. 

“That doesn’t sound very upsetting,” Jin muses. “Is it because Yoongi was there again?”

At the mention of his ex’s name, Hobi snarls. “No. I can handle seeing him.” He continues to strip, frowning at the sight of his ruined suit. Once he’s completely bare, he wanders through his bedroom to his en suite for a shower. 

“Then I guess I just don’t know what’s got you so mad, kitten.” 

Hobi presses a finger to the pinched spot between his dark brows, rubbing soothingly. The bathroom door opens. “I’m going to shower. If Jimin calls, tell him to expect a dry cleaning bill tomorrow.” 

He sighs wearily as the door closes behind him. There are no cameras in this room, so Jin is blind to what goes on in here. Not because Hobi is shy. Quite the opposite, actually. But he needs one room in the underground lair he calls home where he can go to be totally and completely alone.

Tucked away at the bottom of his vanity is a picture frame. He pulls it out, gently running his thumb over the photo inside. Bad idea. Too many conflicting emotions swirl through his already disquieted mind. He tilts the frame away and catches his reflection in the fingerprint-coated glass. The man gazing back at him struggles to maintain his cool demeanor. He turns away.

Warm water pours from the rainfall showerhead, filling the room with steam. Hobi stands directly underneath the stream, still adrift, until one particular feeling bubbles to the surface, and he strokes himself until he’s shuddering, his release washing away without a trace. When he exits the bathroom later, towel slung low over his hips, his expression is calm once again, betraying no sign of the maelstrom within.

THOCK

Taehyung strolls down the quiet hallway of the mansion. 

THOCK

He pauses outside the study, strands of his bright blue locks falling in his eyes as tips his head, listening. 

THOCK

With a grimace, he twists the doorknob. “Yoongi-hyung.” 

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi responds cordially, before flinging another dagger. 

THOCK

The blade lands directly in the middle of a face.

“Didn’t know you were back already.” 

Yoongi doesn’t reply as he saunters across the room. With a violent yank, he jerks the dagger out of the nose where it’s embedded, and grabs the other six that form a perfect circle around it, leaving only the one at the top that pins the portrait in place. 

“Meeting ended early,” he finally states. He removes his striped suit jacket, hanging it primly over the back of a chair before resuming his position several paces in front of the wall. “Jimin fell ill.” 

Taehyung notes the dried blood still clinging to one of the blade handles. “What did he want this time? Did he finally figure out the bug with the power disrupters?”

“Of course not. No, he wanted us to go over the rules for his stupid little competition.” 

THOCK

“And you didn’t like his suggestions?” Taehyung gestures to the dirty dagger. “Hence the blood?” 

Yoongi pauses mid-throw to inspect the handle of his blade. “Oh, we had a little disagreement, you could say. But Jimin eventually came around to our point of view, and I agreed to all of his terms. As did Hoseok.” 

THOCK

Ah, of course. Hoseok-hyung was there again. No wonder the wall was currently under attack by Yoongi’s blades. Taehyung tries to remember where he’d put the spackle after Yoongi’s last assault on the drywall.

THOCK

As another dagger whizzes by, within millimeters of Taehyung’s unconcerned face (he knows his hyung never misses), he tries not to think about what happened when Yoongi and Hoseok split. Taehyung had never seen Yoongi on a rampage like that before. So many blades. So much blood. As much as he adores his hyung, that’s a side of Yoongi he hopes to never see again. 

“So… what are the rules?”

“No outside help.” 

THOCK

“Even from me?” Taehyung pouts at the thought of not being allowed to help his hyung vanquish his enemy. His entire life is devoted to Yoongi, after hyung saved him. He gave Taehyung a purpose and something solid to cling to when the cruel winds of fate tried to tear him apart. 

In other words, Yoongi’s his rock. 

“No outside help from other supervillains. You’re not on the outside. You’re in my inner circle.” 

Taehyung beams proudly, boxy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“The other rules are simply formalities. No teaming up.” Yoongi laughs dryly. “As if that would fucking happen. I’d rather die than ask Hoseok for help, and I’m quite sure the feeling is mutual.” 

THOCK

“And the challenge is over once Vitality is dead.” 

“Okay. Those all make sense, to me.” Taehyung treads lightly. “So… just letting off some steam, then?” 

THOCK

“A little. But I’m also brainstorming. You know the blades help me think.”

Right. Taehyung remembers when Yoongi was preparing for the Tokyo maneuver. What a horribly stressful time that had been. Yoongi spent so many nights strategizing that Taehyung had ended up replacing an entire section of the wall. Spackle only goes so far. 

“Strategizing how you’ll take Vitality out?”  

“Yes. But I’m planning so much more than that.” He tosses a dagger straight above his head. Taehyung watches it flip a few times before Yoongi effortlessly plucks it out of the air, pinching it by the blade. The smile he flashes chills Taehyung to the bone. “I’m going to take them both out.” 

THOCK

The hilt quivers with the force of Yoongi’s throw, dagger buried once again dead center in Hoseok’s face.

“Harder!” A grunt falls from Namjoon’s panting mouth at your command. “Come on, Joon, give it to me!” 

“Can’t…don’t…wanna hurt you.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m not gonna break, Joon. Fucking stop holding back!”

Namjoon obeys, throwing his next punch with more oomph. Still, you easily dodge the blow, sliding beneath his outstretched arm and landing a jab to his gut. 

“Jesus, if you punch like this on your next mission, you’re never going to win! You gonna need me to come fight all your battles for you?”

Your goading works. The yellow haze surrounding Namjoon shimmers as he spins into a roundhouse kick. As his large foot connects with your torso, you let out a pained “OOF!” and fly across the mat, landing square on your back. All the wind in your lungs leaves your body in one loud whoosh. 

Namjoon hovers over you, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “You okay?”

Weakly, you flash a thumbs up. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough sparring for today,” Namjoon clucks his tongue. 

“‘M fine. Just gonna… lay here… for a while.”  

Your teammate flops down next to you and rolls into his cool-down stretches. “I know what you’re doing, by the way.”

“Trying to breathe?”

“You know what I mean.” 

Of course Joon sees right through you. He’s your best friend on the team. The two of you have clicked since the day Doc brought you to the company. His hulking frame and frankly mind-boggling strength run counter to his sweet, quiet nature. A gentle giant if ever there was one. But he’s an astute motherfucker, much to your displeasure

“You don’t have to punish yourself for Dark Hobi and Evil Yoongi both escaping again. That’s not on you. Once we capture our targets and turn them over to the containment teams, it’s on them to keep them imprisoned.” 

Obviously, you know this. But it doesn’t do anything to calm the anger still roiling in your chest. How many times are you going to have to defeat those two before they’re captured for good? 

It’d be so much easier if you could just take them directly to The Hole, where all the villains found guilty of crimes against humanity are taken and locked away for eternity. But no. You know the rules - find the target, take them down, turn them over to containment. They’ll be brought to justice by the company’s tribunal, who judge whether a villain is fit to be rehabilitated and reenter society or sent to The Hole forever. 

Justice. What does that word mean, anyway? Why does the company get to decide their fates? You’re the one with the power. 

You know better than to mention these thoughts to Namjoon as he reaches for his toes, loosening his hamstrings. He’ll just recite the same annoying phrases again and again–we’re not above the system, we work for it. No one is meant to be judge, jury, and executioner all in one. It’s not right. 

Except… it sure seems like the company is all three. Why does it get to decide what’s right?

These questions are above your pay grade. Which, admittedly, is pretty high. 

“I’m not punishing myself,” you finally reply, grinning. “I just prefer to spar with someone worthy. No one else here can really give me a workout like you can. Being friends with the strongest man in the world has to have some sort of perks, you know?” 

“Besides literally bench pressing you?” He winks. “Like the other night?”

You stare off into the distance. “Ah, yes, that was a magical evening. The day I discovered I have a size kink. You really made my head go brrrr, you know that?” 

Namjoon frowns. “Sometimes I think we speak two different languages.” 

“Whatever. Help me stretch my thighs, will you? They’ve felt really tight since we got off the treadmills.” Lying on your back, you lift both knees to your chest. Namjoon nods, kneeling by your ass. He grabs one of your ankles and extends the leg, then presses your thigh into your torso. 

It’s a terribly intimate position, but neither of you flush, both deeply familiar with the other’s body by now. It’s hard as fuck to date as a superhero. Practically impossible, really, with the crazy schedules and the always lurking paparazzi, not to mention the groupies–the cape clingers, as the company calls them. So the two of you have an arrangement. Purely physical. 

“I heard the search for Hobi’s lair isn’t going well,” Namjoon murmurs, his thick fingers digging into your flesh as he switches legs. He is unfortunately correct, which you already know without hearing whatever gossip he’s about to drop. “Doc said the presentation to the shareholders last month kinda skirted around the scout’s report.” 

Over the years, Dark Hobi has completely managed to elude your company’s ability to locate his base of operations, despite the fact that you’re pretty sure his weapons cache alone must be the size of Texas. Whatever he is using for security is clearly more sophisticated than anything the company has, a fact that absolutely drives the CEO mad. He wants to be the one with the best toys. 

“I’m telling you, he’s got an underwater base. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” you mutter back, making a face at Hyunjin when he walks by and whistles suggestively at the two of you. “Oh, fuck off, Jinnie, you know you wish you were the cream filling in this delicious whoopie pie right now.” 

Hyunjin just laughs, but Namjoon rolls his eyes. ”Whoopie pie?”

“I don’t know, I’m hungry.”  

Namjoon releases your legs and begins to stretch his own. “Anyway… he said the meeting was pretty cut and dry, the usual facts and figures, not much new. Oh, I guess there was some sort of weird Geiger spike the other night out in Busan but when the teams combed the area it came from, they didn’t find anything.”

“Busan? Who do we suspect is in Busan these days?”

“No one new that we know of. Just Jimin.” He snorts and you both begin to cackle. 

“Fuck, could you imagine if that guy got his hands on nuclear weapons? Probably blow himself up immediately.” As far as villains went, Jimin aka Mr. Machiavelli is less of a threat to mankind than Dark Hobi or Evil Yoongi than he is to himself. And he isn’t some sort of amazing tactician who keeps slipping through your fingers–no, you’ve defeated him plenty of times. The only reason he isn’t currently in containment is because he has an uncanny knack for charming the guards into letting him go. 

With a yawn, Namjoon stands, offering you his hand. “Probably. Come on, I need a shower.” 

”And that requires me?”

“Yes. You blew off your steam, now I gotta blow off mine.” 

Namjoon tugs you into the communal changing area where your other teammates are milling about and you giggle as he helps you shuck your gym clothes in front of an eye-rolling Hyunjin. “Stop gawking, Jinnie, haven’t you ever seen two people about to fuck before?”

Bang Chan runs into the shower area, blue aura blazing. “Vi, we just got word that Dark Hobi’s been spotted off the coast of Jeju Island. Doc wants you ready to mobilize in ten.” 

You sigh. Just another day’s work. “Ten minutes? Fine.” Taking Namjoon’s hand, you lead him into one of the shower stalls. “Come on, thunder thighs, show me what you can do in five.”

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[moon1833]

SEVEN METER -INUMAKI TOGE

“Inumaki Toge had given up on his dream of being able to verbally confess to the person he liked years ago.”

By the time Inumaki turned ten, he fully accepted the fact that he would live his life without anyone fully understanding what he wanted to say.

It was a bit lonely at first, to see everyone around him besides his family talk freely, but he had no other life to compare it to.

By the time he was seventeen, the dream had fell into the furthest corner in the back of his mind, hardly ever remembering it being a thought until you, the new second year student, revealed your technique to him during training.

“Freeze.” His command sounded different off his tongue, but he didn’t notice it right away.

When you kicked your legs out anyway, forcing him off balance and throwing him to the ground, then he realized something was off.

Inumaki’s cheek was in the grass, his arm pinned to his back as your legs stopped him from twisting. From the corner of his eye, he stared at you in confusion, and a bit of admiration.

“It’s my cursed technique.” You couldn’t help the grin on your face. “It stops all techniques in a seven meter radius.”

You step off of him, giving him your hand to help him get up. He takes it, his lips parted slightly in shock.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You help dust some dirt off his shoulder. “You could’ve spoken to me without having to limit your vocabulary when you first met me yesterday, but I wanted to surprise you.”

You wait as he takes the information in, his mind trailing with possibilities, trying to figure out what his first real words would be to you.

“It’s… okay.” He settles on, feeling as though he was attempting another language.

“Here, let’s go again.” You smile. “It’ll be fair this time.”

From that point on, Inumaki couldn’t deny he felt a slight attachment to you. After all, he could talk freely to you and not worry about hurting you.

It was an adjustment, to be sure. He wasn’t used to the sound of his own voice using so many words at a time, and that his throat didn’t hurt when he did.

At the same time, you found yourself at his side as well. He smiled more when you were in the room, and you believed it was because he had someone he could now actually talk to.

Everyone else, however, read into it a different way.

Gojo was convinced you two were both in love with each other, constantly setting you up together in sparring work and putting you on missions together. Maki, Panda, and even Yuuta teased him relentlessly, desperately trying to get the boy to admit he had a crush on you.

Sure, you might’ve been powerful, hard working, and one of the prettiest people Inumaki had ever had the pleasure of seeing, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on you.

Besides, even if Inumaki did, personal feelings was the last thing you wanted to get mixed up in. You had made that crystal clear on your very first day, practically skipping onto Jujitsu High, brimming with determination that rivaled Maki.

Your cursed technique was incredibly useful, but it was still messy. You were hoping to learn to control it better, as well as improve your combat skills. After all, you had people to save, and things like romance didn’t fare well with jujitsu sorcerers.

Even you couldn’t deny, though, there was definitely something going on between you and Inumaki.

You were always training, eating, or even sleeping together. In class, your seats were always together, and he’d whisper commentary about Gojo-Sensei’s weird teaching that would have you covering your mouth to conceal your laughter.

By the time you both had turned eighteen, your classmates had truly had enough.

“Can you two just kiss already?” Maki’s face twisted as she complained, eyeing her friends were practically on top of each other on the couch in the common room.

You removed your legs from Toge’s lap, immediately missing how he drew circles on your knees.

“Honestly, I think you two actually making out in front of us instead of the constant heart eyes would be less intimate.” Megumi suddenly joins the conversation, Itadori nodding in agreement beside him.

Your eyes slightly widen in surprise, and you don’t have to look at Toge to know he’s flushed red.

“Bonito flakes.” He pouts, crossing his arms and shrinking into his hoodie.

“Oh, come on.” Nobara groans, throwing her head against her armchair. “This is borderline annoying.”

“I’m loosing money, you know.” Maki’s grinning a bit now. “We should lock them in a closet or something.”

“No, no.” You say quickly. “You people are insane.”

“And you’re boring.” Nobara whines.

Itadori whispers something to Megumi, and he looks at him quizzically. Nobara must have overheard it, because she’s howling with laughter.

“What?” Maki pries.

“Yuuji thought they were already together.” She says in between gasps.

Toge fully hides his face in his hands, but you can see bits of reddened skin between his fingers.

Luckily, Panda comes back with a few snacks a few minutes later, and the topic changes. The group decides to watch a movie, and for the first time, you try your best to not fall asleep on Toge’s shoulder.

Still, it’s past midnight when the movies credits begin to roll, and your head feels heavy. Your blinks are longer, and you rest your face against the head of the loveseat.

Silently, Toge watches you carefully. You’re fighting (and failing) to stay awake, and your face is scrunched slightly.

The two of you are the only people still awake, Maki was using Panda as a pillow, and the three underclassmen were sleeping on top of each other.

Toge pokes your face, and you snap up. There’s a coy smile on his lips, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad at him.

“What?” You whisper.

He shrugs, a bit worried about speaking with so many people in the room.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotten good at it.” You reassure. You had mastered it last month, being able to target one individual and force them to not have any cursed techniques. Only downside was using it for an extended time would make you pass out.

He nods a bit shyly before swallowing. “That movie was ass.”

You laugh sharply, nodding in agreement. “I’m not sure why we let Itadori pick anymore.”

At his name, the boy in question let out a guttural snore, and you and Toge couldn’t contain your giggles.

“C’mon.” You push him up. “We’re going to wake them up.”

Still holding back your laughter, the two of you ran hand in hand down the hallway and up the stairs.

From the other side of the stairs, you could hear footsteps trotting closer to you. Before you heard his footsteps, you felt his cursed energy. Quickly, you enabled your own technique to hide your and Toge’s trails, holding onto his shoulder to stop his movements.

Realistically, Gojo probably wouldn’t give two shits that you were out past curfew, but on the off chance that he did, you didn’t want to serve detention with him again.

The last time, he had left you in the classroom overnight because he had locked the door and forgot you were there. You had to climb out of the window to get out.

You pulled Toge under the stairwell, unintentionally gripping onto him with both hands. His arms were comfortably wrapped around your waist, and he was grinning ear to ear.

Gojo started to whistle incredibly off key as he walked, and the you made the mistake of making eye contact with Toge as he did.

“Shh!” You covered his mouth with your hand, but you were still laughing. In response, he covers your mouth as well, and you still don’t realize you’re practically nose to nose.

The both of you are still giddy, shushing laughs that are a bit too loud for you to not get caught. You can’t pull away from his eyes, and your mouth parts slightly.

Before you can think about it, you press your lips to his, ceasing the rare opportunity of the boys chin above his jacket.

He giggles into the kiss, holding your face in his hands. You grin, and your teeth graze his lip. He gasps, and your hands grip onto his shirt.

Toge presses harder into you, and you stagger back into the wall. You’re suddenly familiar with how he tastes, and it’s an addiction you cannot want to be used to.

Inumaki Toge had given up on his dream of being able to verbally confess to the person he liked years ago. But, there you were, staring up at him with pretty eyes and a smile that knocked the wind out of him, and the words ‘I love you’ were so so simple to say.

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a vent fic wip that I may or may not finish so I just need to tell someone that I am...feeling so many things all the time about the consequences of the 16th birthday but...

primarily, right now, at this moment. without Robin/Bruce, Tim thought he would lose Dick and everyone else he knew through Robin. and then a little bit later when he quit for Jack, he got radio silence for Months until he became a potential victim, and even then it was just Cass stopping in to give the message and be like "I'll watch you to keep you safe 👁️👁️ ok bye" and he had actual Proof that without Robin, he would lose everyone.

and then. Dick "you're my equal (even tho I'm drastically changing your life without your knowledge or permission), you're my closest ally (even tho you don't even have a name to go out in the field to assist me as backup), I need you (even tho, as mentioned, I made a huge decision without your input because I didn't need it because I know best actually)" Grayson.

skipping over the fact that Dick didn't even have the time to say "you're fired" or anything resembling that, when Tim lost "Robin" to Damian, he felt like he lost everything else too. it didn't matter what Dick said about "equals" or "allies" or "needing". he already had Concrete Proof that it was all false. cheap words that are easily disproven do nothing in this situation, Dichard!

(disclaimer: I love and respect Dick Grayson, I just also think Dick Stopped Existing as soon as he made Damian his Robin for the most pathetic stupid illogical risky-ass excuse he could ever give for making anyone Robin (or a vigilante in general). "because he'll kill someone again". who the fuck says that?? who thinks "oh no oh god oh fuck this kid is gonna go off the rails he's gonna kill someone, I need to Put Him In A Place Of Power Over Oblivious Innocent Untrained People Who Are Expecting A Kind And Empathetic Hero To Save Them" hUH???? ok sorry, I just wanted to rant about what Tim "losing Robin" meant)

I agree with ya. Dick Grayson is fantastic, but it seems weird that he nuked his entire relationship with Tim (a very strong one that other fans have referred to them as "The Brothers") for the new kid.

Yes, Damian is a ten year old traumatized kid who just lost the dad he didn't really have the chance to get to know. Yes, Damian needed guidance, boundaries, and compassion.

But DC spent so much time and effort building up Tim and Dick's rapport only to obliterate it once the "blood son" came in (I also love Damian. This is not hate on the kid. This is confused commentary on DC's choices). It's just a strange idea, but that's also why it hurts so much when Dick does that to Tim.

Then you tie in Tim losing Robin by Dick to Tim's experiences before? Fuck. You are so right for that.

As far as the RR run, Dick could've handled Tim believing Bruce a bit better. I don't necessarily blame him for that one. I get why he wasn't supportive in the way Tim wanted, even though I would've chosen differently for my siblings.

Dick taking Robin, though? That was fucked up. I, honest to the gods, do not see how that was a justified course of action. I can understand his perspective, but it's still not okay. At all.

There's your very adequate analysis:

Robin, for Tim, is his tie to his loved ones. He has proof (twice) that without it, he does not have access to the people he cares about and his support system.

Dick said a lot of pretty words about "equals," but his actions were precisely contradictory to his "intentions."

Tim has had Robin taken from him before or had to give it up. He chose to go back despite this. He obviously feels strongly about being Robin

Damian has not proven, at this point, to be trustworthy as a vigilante (someone in power without oversight). He has instead shown use of excessive force

This isn't even going into the way he found out. That's just an extra layer.

The way Tim has repeated lost and regained Robin (even after RR) as well as his title as Red ROBIN are, to me, a sign that he's still trying to hold on. It's my belief that he would have moved onto a new title, like his predecessors, if it hadn't constantly been an unsure role.

His start was rocky as hell due to Bruce not initially wanting it. Tim had to prove himself and put himself into the costume.

He "quit" twice before it was taken from him in a traumatic way (nothing like being instilled with the fear that the position you've held for four years can suddenly be yanked out from under you without warning)

Damian and Jason both vehemently protested to him being Robin

It would make sense if all of these factors combined to Tim's unwillingness or inability to just let Robin go, especially when we factor in his reason to be Robin. Since Bruce never really gets "better" and continually falls back into bad habits, Tim needs to maintain his task of pulling Bruce back from the edge. We could also throw Jean Paul into this to further how Tim is forced to play as the barrier between a grown adult and their desire to harm others in the name of good.

So, Tim's time as Robin is marked by consistent instability while contrasted with his inherent position as Bruce's leash and the batfam fixer. While the other Robins did have times of doubt, the predecessors of Tim did not have the pervasive role insecurity with regards to Robin.

They had their big moment at the end and some smaller moments in-between, but not quite on the continous scale of Tim. Tim had three big moments and was still sucked back into Robin when Damian quit.

To be Robin is to earn Bruce's love and the ability to be part of the Wayne family. To lose Robin is the risk of losing that (at least to the perspectives of the Robins if not 100% the reality).

I'm not sure I'm articulating this accurately. Regardless, no wonder Tim clutches the title of Robin with bleeding hands no matter how much it cuts him and costs him.

[exlibrisseverus]

The torn bond of friendship

The silence between us every time we meet makes my heart ache.

You avert your gaze just so you don't have to look me in the eye. I know that you don't hate me. But to be honest, I'd rather have your hate than your pity.

You wish things had gone differently. But I can't change for you the way you would like me to. Nevertheless, you are important to me.

(You always will be.)

[I tried to put myself in his shoes and that's how these few lines came about. The background in the illustration is a photo I took, it's the view from my window.]

The artist's commentary – psychological aspect/my two cents…

->

Nobody is perfect, no human being is.

Especially not adolescent teenagers who literally have almost no idea about life. Who lack empathy, compassion, maturity, experience and so many other things. All of us have certainly lost a friend at some point in our childhood or adolescence. Close friendships at a young age and the experiences associated with them can have a strong influence on our behavior later in life. All of a person's first intensive relationships with family, friends, etc., whether positive or negative, shape their world view and character immensely.

We can't expect a young person to be flawless and perfect. Maturity comes with years and experience. It is not uncommon for children and youth to be self-centered and egocentric, but that does not make them bad people. To a certain extent, selfishness is even important. As we grow up, we learn to act autonomously, make decisions and form our own opinions. It is clear that we can make mistakes during this process and possibly hurt others. We all make mistakes on our journey through life, that is part of growing up. That is a part of this life.

I have to remind myself each time that they were practically still children as at that time.

Sorry for my poor English, it’s not my native language. I do my best though. Thanks for reading 🖤

(Additional edit 10.02.2024 Tumblr confuses me a little bit, i was wondering why my previous image lost it’s quality after uploading. It took me too long to draw and i need to show the details. Anyways for better detailed view -> I’ve split the artwork. ��)

[elodieunderglass]

I am absolutely wild and feral over HDM (legit like, daemons fit SO well. I'm watching dunmeshi wondering where Laios' dog went) and super curious if you do plan a sequel or other fics following this AU??

(In reference to the His Dark Materials / Dungeon Meshi fusion fic)

thank you so much for this question I love this question god!!!! Thank you thank you thank you

God sorry about HDM being delayed, I’m going through hell over it at the moment. It’s meant to end a little after the dragon, then a timeskip epilogue, with special coding so that you can read it two different ways, depending on whether you want spoilers for the manga/season 2. (My idea is that you’ll click a button to reveal/hide it, and the spoiler-free epilogue will be like found poetry.)

Firstly, if you or anyone else would like to take the concepts/characters in His Delicious Materials forward for themselves, you must do this. You don’t need my permission (but I’d love a link! so I can read, scream, reblog, comment, link to it, etc. there is also the “inspired by” setting on ao3 so we can link works directly to HDM, forming a collection for anyone who reads one and wants more.) I don’t own any of it! We are all just having fun! YOU can be the sequel you want to see in the world! If your heart feels a way forward, then follow your heart!! A daemon AU is really about revealing character and I find them really inspiring, like adding a whole engine to a story idea.

If I were to write something to follow up, I do know what the sequel WOULD be! It would be a sort of Discworld novel about the slow social revolution occurring in the half-foots as a chain reaction to Bee settling as a weasel, all occurring behind Chilchuck’s oblivious and unhelpful back. Pushed into a sort of bottleneck of sparrow- and mouse-souls, and marginalised to the very edges of society, half-foots are precarious and endangered. Chilchuck is mostly eating a ham sandwich unhelpfully in the foreground, and at the end of the story looks back and sees to his bewilderment that his people have found a way forward (they don’t have a Shire or a Chosen One, but they do have a goddamn functional worker’s union and their own collective dignity.) kind of Discworld-commentary-comedy, kind of a loving argument with Tolkien, kind of Sharpe hostile-and-awkward-protagonist-POV-doesn’t-know-and-wouldn’t-believe-that-his-men-genuinely-love-him, kind of about the experience of parenting, and kind of gently warmly political BUT FUNNY so it would be ok. but feel it would be too much of a stretch of people’s patience and the original materials’s intentions to call it fanfic. Too many OCs needed to carry the weight, too little reference to the other Dungeon Meshi characters, almost too little “payoff” for what would be a full 70k word work. So maybe to let the story breathe, it would be better worked up as original fiction?

(Plus, that is actually an actual novel: if people write their own novels and manga about orc coffeeshops and dnd parties, I could just write my own too: wait but how do you know if you should?)

Anyway, that is an entirely separate kettle of weasels and my own cross to bear! If your heart cries out for a sequel the best way to manifest it in the world is to write it!

If you feel that A Weasel Heart In Defiance feels like it would scratch that itch, here is a bit that is mildly relevant to Dungeon Meshi, which is Chilchuck and Bee starting to work away from home while the girls were still small. You’ll probably see what I mean from it.

About seven of the village children, including his own three, had a snake in a wooden bucket. They didn't look up.

The reappearance of a random guy who functioned mostly as a postal service and occasionally shouted at them about bedtime - in a way that could be easily blanked out if something more interesting was happening - simply could not be expected to compete for attention with a snake in a bucket.

Chilchuck could recognise this on some level, but as his own children ignored him, he felt very hot and angry, in a way that he had never wanted to feel about children, especially his.

Bee, also rigidly pissed off, growled, "Easy, boss."

This was where Chilchuck did the only thing so far that he was proud of, in this day. He did not start shouting, even though his temper was going something like What the fuck, kids, but worse. He stopped, took a minute, and remembered he'd had this whole thing where he'd wanted his kids to love him. He rubbed his nose, said, "Remind me," and his daemon reminded him: "What do we want them to actually do?"

And he said, "The bare minimum fucking acknowledgement would be nice."

And Bee said, "Have we explained that to them? Do they know?"

So Chilchuck and Bee, hot and tired and cross and still on the job apparently, sat down on the ground with the kids and looked in the bucket. The snake, poor bastard, looked very limp and tired. Chilchuck could relate.

After a while, Chilchuck said, "Girls?"

Or more accurately, something like, "Girls! Girls. Meifleurpatti-I mean Puck-PUCK. Listen up. Mei! Fleur, I'm talking - thanks Fleur - Puck. (Ryeland, stop the baby.) PUCK. Mei, Fleur, Puck - PUCK, eyes on me - thanks, Ryeland - PUCK. EYES," which condensed in parent-speak to a single roar of "Girls!"

When he had them more or less listening, he remembered to set his voice to the more singsong cadence one used for children, instead off the deeper version of his natural voice that he used for shouting at the top of his abilities at tall people; making the choice to be patient and gentle, or at least pretend to be someone who was; and in this manner he said reasonably, "Now, your dad's been away for a very long time and missed you all very much. What do you say? What do you say when your dad comes home?"

Six children stared at him blankly, and the baby toppled gently into the bucket. He fished it out, stuck it sideways under his arm, allowed the snake to escape in the confusion, acknowledged someone's grievously injured finger, stopped Fleur from pinching, took out his pocket handkerchief and wiped Puck's nose in essentially one continuous motion.

To be completely fair, now that he'd let go of the initial anger, he could see that the kids had absolutely no idea what he'd wanted of them. Kids had practically no social instincts at the best of times. Chilchuck coming home was remarkable, sure, but beyond their influence; how were they supposed to react? What do you say to a comet? What do you say to a hailstorm? What do you say when daddy comes home?

He repeated the question, as the children had universally drawn blanks and devolved into staring vacantly.

"Good morning, Daddy!" A child chirped helpfully, setting off the rest in an automatic drone of "good morning, Daddy," in the strangely universal dreary tone of all children saying that.

"So close, Fernwise! Is it morning? What else do we think?"

Bee, fighting for order among the kit-daemons, was simultaneously washing Fleurtom's daemon, Pantoufle's, face; receiving a long rambling report of a grievance from three incoherent witnesses; and minding the baby's chick-daemon; up to her ears in parenting. She said, around a mouthful of Pan, "Speed it up, boss, you're losing them."

"Where are your spots, Daddy?" Pan asked him. He was in the form of a young ferret and scrabbled against his mother's grip on his scruff.

"My what?"

"Your freckles," Bee said grimly, and seeing he'd been temporarily disarmed - and being a valiant beast in her way - charged in to her human's defense, "Is that nice, Pan? We don't want to make people feel bad about their looks, do we?"

"Yes we do," said Fleur.

"Fleur! We've just - we haven't seen much of the sun, that's all," said Bee, taking charge, the best and most loyal soul a man could have. "They'll come back, and they're not spots."

"Mei has spots."

"Freckles."

"Grimbob has spots."

"Yes, and you shouldn't notice," Bee said. "Think of Grimbob's feelings."

"I do, I think he feels spotty."

"I'm thirsty," Puck said flatly.

"Stick to the point, kids," Chilchuck said, recovering from the fact that his usual face was apparently indistinguishable to children from Grimbob's, who had been taking puberty hard. This was surprisingly difficult to do.

Ryeland, a mildly bright spark who was older than the Chils girls, connected two dots and suddenly roared "WELCOME HOME DADDY," so six children all repeated that automatically, and Fleur added sunnily, "I missed you Daddy!"

And just as a very small piece of Chilchuck's heart was finally allowed to melt, she added, equally sunnily, "Mei didn't."

"I did a little," Meijack said vaguely.

"That's great kids, well done, we got there in the end," Chilchuck said. "Remember it for next time, okay? It makes Daddy feel better about his stupid life. Now, next time, let's remember that it's traditional to do a hug."

He realised his mistake instantly, as six children and their daemons all bore him - and the baby he'd forgotten he was holding - to the ground.

___________

[yuyusgirlie]

[11:37 pm]

Family chaos has never been your favourite thing to deal with. Family chaos during the planning of your own wedding? Arguably 15 times worse. The past year has been a mess of decisions and people over your shoulder trying to give their thoughts where they were most certainly not welcome. 

They say that your wedding is supposed to be the couple’s special day where you can celebrate your love, but so far it has been literally anything but that. It has been a chance for your family to comment on your decisions and try to convince you that their opinion is the correct one. 

The venue, the music, the clothing, the cake, the food, the guest list, everyone thought that they had a say about your “special day,” and with it finally being only 2 weeks away, it feels like everything is coming to a melting point. 

You walk into your room, exhausted and drained from the bridal shower you just came from. You decided to invite your close friends and family to the event, but the lunch of course had to feature classic family commentary. First it was about your choice of clothing for the event, then it had to be about the fact that your fiance was there and “that wasn’t very traditional,” but it was the comment your cousin made complaining about the restaurant choice that was your final straw. 

Once the lunch was over you quickly thanked everyone and immediately walked to the car, waiting for your fiance to drive you both home. You didn’t talk to anyone, staying silent all the way home. You were fuming, replaying the events of the day in your head, trying to find any way you could avoid them moving forward if you wanted to at least try to enjoy your wedding. 

Now you lay on your bed, your hands over your face, trying desperately not to cry. You hear the soft footsteps of your fiance walking into the room, softly closing the door behind him. You focus on taking deep breaths in and out as you feel the spot on the bed beside you dip as he takes a seat next to you. He gently puts his hand on your knee, softly letting you know that he is here for you when you are ready. 

Jihoon always had a way of being able to ground you and bring you peace without even saying a word. Just him being there brought you a sense of peace that no one else in your life ever could. 

His thumb on your knee was drawing comforting circles as he silently supported you. 

“I’m sorry this is happening my love.” 

You moved your hands from your face and turned to look at the man sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. Jihoon looked back at you with a soft smile, one of sympathy and warmth. 

You sat up on the bed and moved to rest your head on his shoulder as his hand remained on your leg. “It’s not your fault, none of this is, it’s all just my family and their stupid need to say something all the time. I’m sorry you’re marrying into this.” you say with a tired chuckle. 

“Don’t apologize for anything like that, I’d ask you to marry me every day no matter what the circumstances as long as I get to be with you.” 

You sigh against his shoulder, the threat of tears returning. You remain silent for a bit trying to decompress from the day. 

“What if we elope.” 

You sit up straight to look at Jihoon in the face. Unsure of if you heard him right you have to ask for clarification. “What?” 

“What if we just elope. You and me. Now. It will be our moment, it might take off the pressure from the wedding. I don’t care about a wedding, I care about being with you.” 

You look at him and try to think about it. It’s always been just you and him. You have been dealing with so many voices related to the wedding you almost forgot why you were even doing it in the first place. It was always about Jihoon and getting to spend the rest of your life by his side. Supporting him and him supporting you through everything. 

“I just think that if we take meaning away from the wedding then it might be a little easier to handle.” His hand moves from your knee to your hand that was resting in your lap. He picks up your hand and brings it to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. “What do you say?” 

The suggestion makes sense. It more than makes sense. It feels right. “Let’s go get married.” 

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 16: Well-Versed Pas De Deux

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 16: Bonfire

Summary: Carmy is struggling with menu changes for the next month, his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) reminds him of the bonfire they were supposed to attend, and she does a little thing that gets right under his skin. Smut.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, mention of family trauma, mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. If you want to keep following this set of works, you can follow the #cb journal tag.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

16 Oct 2024

My apartment, now back up to two bad radiators (this is how I’m keeping track of time anymore, how many radiators are still working. These fucking pieces of shit can go burn in hell with the landlord. I swear to God, I’m having nightmares of them breaking at critical moments, this is stupid as fuck. RADIATORS.). I’m at the dining table with three half-formed dishes for the November menu changes staring at me—one of them was the duck with apple glaze that Tina proposed, I’m pretty sure. The others? No idea. This head’s a colander. I don’t know how I do anything, for fuck’s sake. Best chef award, my ass.

“Carmy? Baby?” Darling’s voice ripped me out of my thoughts.

She hovered between the kitchen and living room. Had going-out clothes on, that sweater with the—were they cables? I think they’re called cables—her fleece-lined jeans that she patched the knee of with flannel from a very old shirt of mine, hat. Holding a scarf.

“Hm? Sorry. Sorry, I’m… fuck.” I dragged my hands through my hair, rubbed my eyes. “Sorry, these menu changes are killing me. I didn’t hear a word you said, I’m so sorry.”

She shuffled over, wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay; it happens.”

I nuzzled her sweater. Took a deep inhale of her scent.

“I was asking if you still want to go to the bonfire.”

Bonfire? My stomach dropped through the floor. Fuck, that was today, wasn’t it?

“Shit.” I looked at the clock. 7:09 pm.

“It’s okay, we’ll still make it on time if we leave in 15 minutes. If you still want to go.”

“I-I don’t, uh—fuck.” Shit. My face flooded with warmth. Shit, I even had it in my calendar, how the fuck did I forget? I pressed the heels of my hands into my cheekbones as if I could somehow physically force the heat back out of my face. Or maybe covering my eyes makes me feel safer, somehow? I don’t know, that’s a question for the eventual therapist (who I feel bad for, by the way. Fucking hell, therapy is going to suck).

Darling brushed her hand up and down my sternum. “Hey, hey, breathe.”

I heaved a breath. My head spun.

“I want to hear about the menu, but if you’re going to go, you should decide now so we can leave on time.”

“I-I don’t know? I don’t know, I need to think.” I didn’t mean to hiss it between my teeth. My face got warmer. Now my chest felt warm, like I’d just opened an oven.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to appropriately appreciate the silence Darling offers me. Like in that moment, she alerted me to being pressed for time, but then she just gave me runway to think, to broil under my own skin for a bit and then come to the realization that the sky isn’t falling and that whatever pitchfork crowd I conjured in my anxiety-riddled mind didn’t exist. I didn’t even realize that’s what was going on with me at the time—why I involuted and imploded so ferociously when I perceived myself fucking up. A lifetime of violent retaliation for mistakes meant that even when the logical part of my mind knew that I wouldn’t be pierced with verbal javelins, or have to dodge something thrown at me, or assuage a tsunami of an emotional assault, I got wound up like they were coming. Those cavernous scars ran to the bone. And band-aids and skin glue wouldn’t fix the damage all the way down.

And Darling knew that, too.

“I, um. I’m-I’m not sure about going,” I managed. My breaths were short, bit like that time I had pneumonia as a kid, but the burning in my face had subsided.

“Do you want to go?”

How was I supposed to answer that? The apple glaze for the duck could use some brightness. Not acidity. Maybe something herbal? Lemon zest?

Wait, she asked me a question.

“Shit. Uh, I-I don’t know. I mean, it’d be nice, but these fucking menu changes.” I nudged the plates away from me. “Fuck my life…”

She hooked my chin and turned my gaze up to her. “Can I make a proposal, pretty boy?”

Something warm stirred in the pit of my stomach at hearing her call me that again. Fuck, she looked gorgeous. Had this little sparkle in her eyes because of the way the lights came through the blinds, put on lipstick for the first time in a while, and damn if it didn’t make her look like a million dollars. If it didn’t bring out the lively, rich color in her face, the love in her smile. Her necklace—did she say it was some kind of pearls? Vintage?—shimmering white, shifting iridescent tones, landed half a centimeter above the notch between her collarbones as if the best architect in the world composed this masterpiece of visual design.

“Please,” I whispered. Please, you have all of my attention. Every last thread of it. Please, please, for the love of whatever the fuck you believe in, call me pretty boy again.

“Take your notebook with you, hm?” She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’ll drive on the way over, so you can write down any ideas that come up. You might have some ideas at the bonfire itself—you know, the smell of the flames, the food there. And if you need it, you can always head to the car and write in the quiet.”

I took her hand and pressed my lips to her palm. Soft. A bit cooler in temperature. “I should get out, huh?”

“A change of scenery might be helpful for you right now. And I do want to go.”

I nodded, pressed one last kiss to her palm. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Mother of pearl.

That’s what her necklace was made of.

…..

The bonfire didn’t give me many ideas, but Syd did.

“Is there any other way to brighten the apple glaze?” she asked. “Like do you have to add something?”

Some of Darling’s friends had organized this little thing, some kind of Fall tradition for them. I was her plus one. Upsides: quieter than a big public thing; at night, so plenty of chances to Irish Goodbye into the shadows (is that offensive?); trees nearby, so I could just become a tree man (there’s a word for this. Darling told me, I’ll write it in if I remember. Cryptid. That’s the word) in the middle of it all, I guess. Downsides: more intimate setting, so higher expectation to socialize; at night, so who even knew what beasts and ghouls lurked in the shadows; and the trees were suffocatingly gigantic. I could get crushed by trying to look up at them. Also, several people stared at me like I was a rack of lamb, and it made me deeply uncomfortable. It did start getting a bit raucous about 30 minutes in, and I’d sent a (cryptic, now that I think about it) text to Sydney on the drive over, so she called me at the perfect time for me to duck out and get a break.

So, there I was, about 15 feet away from the bonfire, crouched against a tree to give my back a break, chill of the night air starting to creep under and around my jacket, watching Darling laugh at a good story, meeting her eyes to check in, watching her, meeting her eyes.

“What, like, take something away?”

Like The Devil told me to do?

“Yeah, or, like, maybe try a different type of apple or a different sort of… I don’t know.” She sighed. “We sure we wanna stick to an apple glaze?”

“It’s a solid idea. And it was Tina’s.” I was determined to make it work. She’d done too much for me to not try to make it work. “Finely diced green apples? Orange zest? I could try taking out the cinnamon.”

“What’s that gonna do?”

“It’ll take out the bass note. Cinnamon sits low in the palate, it’s-it’s a bass note. Means we get more tenor.”

“I’m sorry, are you using music terms?” Ugh, I could hear her smiling.

Warmth pricked at my cheeks. I hate that my voice came out so small when I said, “It’s how I think.”

Sydney either didn’t notice or decided not to aggravate the situation. “Okay. So, take out the cinnamon.”

Darling tilted her head at me.

“Yeah. I’ll give it a try. I, uh, I gotta go, Darling needs me.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Let me know how menu goes tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I headed back over to the bonfire. She offered me a s’more—very needed, fucking hell, I just needed some junk food sometimes to reset after sampling duck and bluefin and wagyu so much. Cheap chocolate, half-stale baking spices, half-charred fake vanilla. Caramelized sugar. Sharp snap of graham cracker, the bubbly warmth of melted marshmallow. She swept a bit of melted chocolate from my lip. Sucked it off her thumb.

Had no fucking idea how bad it wrecked me.

Not until we got back home, and I needed to get clothes off and yank her forward by her belt loop and impatiently shove her hands towards my hair. She giggled that saccharine melody, tangled her fingers through my curls, and then screeched in surprised delight when I just picked her up and marched straight for the bedroom.

“Carmy! Goodness!”

My kisses were sloppy because I couldn’t stop grinning. “Don’t wake the neighbors.”

Maybe it was the 4 sips of cheap whiskey I had at the bonfire.

She yanked off my t-shirt and coiled around me, her skin cool against mine, while I made short work of the rest of our clothes.

“God, you’re so warm all the time,” she mumbled, nuzzling my shoulder.

I found a few moments to slow back down. To just enjoy how her skin felt on mine, how her body fit perfectly right in my hands. Traced over the round of her hip, the curve of her thighs, palmed at her perfect tits.

“No, no,” she said, pulling back to smirk at me. “You’re supposed to be fucking me right now.”

I kissed her. “You’re cute.”

“You’re hot.” She untangled herself from me and flopped onto the bed, stretching her arms like a satisfied cat. Faint light spilling in from the windows cast these deep, pitchlike shadows over her form, highlighting, in breathtaking contrast, every feature on her face, every facet of her architecture. Should I have thought about it any further, I might’ve absorbed the sight longer, embedded it in my mind, attempted to recapture it at the end of my pencil, but her giggle drew my attention.

“Now rail me already.”

I appreciate her bluntness so much.

She tensioned fistfuls of my hair when I trailed wet kisses up the inside of her thigh. Draped her other leg over my shoulder with practiced ease. This is a familiar dance, a well-versed pas de deux. One where I paint my hand up and down that thigh on my shoulder to soothe her when my lips finally meet her cunt, and she lets out that whimper that cinches the tight, burning, merciless heat of arousal deep in my navel. Where she breathlessly begs and whimpers and whines my name when she’s wracked by an orgasm on my tongue, more so when she’s ruined under me with her legs tight around my waist, tight enough to leave bruises along my hip bones, for me to feel sore when moving around the kitchen the next day—reminders of her, like the scratches I’d get, the lipstick stains I’d guard under my clothes and that I’d try to keep around as long as they’d last.

Maybe it was just love, by the way.

That’s an option, you know, Carmen. You just love her that much.

“I’m so close,” she mumbled. Her fingernails worried sore spots on my scalp, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop her from doing it. She was so tight around my fingers, so wet on my tongue, so hot—I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. I don’t want to get used to it.

I withdrew my fingers, and she tugged particularly hard on my hair. “No, no, don’t stop,” she wailed.

“Ow, baby girl, too hard.”

She let go immediately, pet my face to apologize. “But I’m… oh…”

I’d crawled onto the bed. She pulled herself up towards the headboard, coiled her limbs around me and yanked me down into a starved kiss.

“Fuck me already, please, pretty boy.”

Who was I not to oblige?

[millyrocking]

a summary (with some colorful commentary) of great rivalries: bret hart and shawn michaels

-i have to mention that bret is wearing a black button down that’s open enough for you to see his chest and shawn’s button down has no sleeves.

-bret’s hair has lightened up to a nice honey brown here. it looks good.

- bret and jim liked working with rockers from the start because they were fast and had great athleticism

- shawn thanked bret for being nice abt his past as a rocker.

- the rockers bad behavior was often excused because they were great in ring performers.

-shawn comes off as very anxious to me. i don’t know if it’s because of bret or having to speak about his past behavior but he’s fidgeting a lot.

- shawn always looks to bret when he’s talking but bret looks at jim ross almost the entire time. he glances to shawn here and there.

- bret remembers EVERYTHING. im so sorry but i take his word over shawn’s any time.

- bret: “shawn and marty had that sexy boy kind of look”

- shawn said that the rockers and hart foundation were a good pair up because hart foundation didn’t down them for being small like the other guys did

- bret could do a verbal telling of the history of wwf from 84-95 seriously. his memory is impeccable.

- bret being so upset abt the rope breaking during the rockers vs hart foundation title match — telling the ref and everybody to stop the match so they could fix it

- the match went to hell and bret said it was the first time he was lost in a match — bret was so sick about the rope 😭

- bret and shawn had the first ladder match in wwe history plus fun fact it was bret who brought ladder matches to wwe bc they did them in stampede wrestling

- bret was camera shy when he was starting out in wwf

- the way shawn looks at bret when he’s talking aww he’s locked in

- from 80s to early 90s — bret said it transition from the dinosaurs to the mammals

- bret always gives shawn props on how good he was in this interview which is nice bc i guess shawn really needs to hear that specifically from bret

- before wwf — shawn was taught to destroy rivals and be cutthroat but wwf was more obsessed with how big you are — the bigger you are in size, the more status

- shawn and bret got along from day 1

- it was curt (hennig), bret and shawn as a little trio back in the early 90s

- bret said him, curt and shawn used to play baseball with an axe handle when they had down time 🥺

- bret considered shawn one of his besties, shawn visited his kids (early 90s) — i posted an interview excerpt about this from bret

- it’s scary that back then wrestlers were all drug addicts to varying degrees — bret and shawn have lost so many friendships over drug use and death wow

- bret often went to bat for shawn to upper management— always put in a good word for him to vince

- bret said shawn was one of the best athletes to come into wrestling

- bret always wanted to pass the torch to shawn. it was always in his plans.

- i think maybe shawn was so pissed with bret because he wanted to be bret’s equal in the business and not the guy who’s running behind him to get the baton?

- shawn and bret drew close to each other because they shared a common value: no matter the crowd and circumstance, work as hard as you can

- shawn: “people would be surprised at how many events there were where it was shawn and bret celebrating together”

- while bret was winning belts, shawn was struggling with drug issues — then the kliq formed

- iron man match — bret and shawn were still friends but drifting slowly

- bret liked kevin nash and thought he supported him during his tenure at wwf

- shawn turned babyface and came in bret’s babyface lane — a spark of friction here

- bret felt that him being champion meant nothing to wwf, felt he was a placeholder for someone else to get the belt and felt disrespected because he’s turning out classic matches and getting nothing for it - yet shawn put out less work and gets handed the belt — animosity kinda started there — bret felt upper management wasn’t treating him right even though bret thought he was more over than he ever was

- so bret sorta left

- bret didn’t feel like shawn was interested in sharing the wealth, wanted to keep it for the kliq — told bret he had plans to basically only work w the kliq — shawn doesn’t remember this convo allegedly but doesn’t doubt he said this

- shawn: the futurist — the business needed to get edgier — he’s kinda tony stark coded to me

- bret: the traditionalist — VERY steve rogers coded like i can’t make this shit up 😭

- bret felt he was the leader of the locker room — most wrestlers voiced their concerns to him — bret the den mother

- what kinda pisses me off is i feel like bret never got to be the super megastar that he should’ve been like the rock, stone cold, hulk hogan, john cena were — he should’ve been THE quintessential 90s superstar wrestler (he probably was and since i wasn’t born yet i just dont know)

- hitman fans are an oppressed group. they were always screwing over his character 😭

- bret and shawn choreographed the iron man match together— bret’s so happy abt this match because it went perfectly. went exactly the way they planned.

- shawn called bret the next day or so to thank him

- the 2 min overtime was a work — we should all know that

- shawn’s attitude after the iron man match — pushing earl away when he’s clipping the belt, no handshake was a work

- shawn told earl to get bret the hell out of the ring — bret didn’t have a problem with this, just felt it was a speed thing — just something that came out to get things moving and keep time

- after the match — owen called bret and said the locker room really thinks you and shawn hate each other bc you didn’t shake hands — bret loved this heat because it would create good money for the both of them

- shawn and bret had a convo abt their heat being a work

- bret was proud of shawn’s champion run in 96 — thought he did a good job

- bret planned to throw jabs at shawn when he returned in oct 96 as a work so he could play the bitter and disgraced ex champ who’s coming back to get what’s his

- clip of a fan calling bret a pretty boy (i agree)

- i swear shawn never finishes a sentence. real.

- shawn’s wild asf for saying “stu hart is dead and walked around calgary as if he’s still alive” in 97. im sorry if i were bret id wanna beat his ass any chance i got too 😭

- i think their worked heat turned into a shoot (using all the terminology) in summer 97 bc of their promos — they were talking too much shit about each other it started to get kinda real

- bret negotiated the biggest contract in wcw at the time

- shawn and his “knee injury” — no one believed it and im sorry i dont either 😭 — bret was upset bc he thought shawn was being selfish and putting more work onto the guys to carry the company while he does backflips in his shorts and loafers

- my theory is shawn faked this knee injury to get out of dropping the belt to bret at wrestlemania xiii — probably felt pissed about him having the biggest contract, hailed for saving wwf ratings, being able to take a long ass break (even though technically bret’s previous contract ended) and come back to be top of the card

- but its okay because bret vs stone cold at wrestlemania xiii is a classic — my second favorite bret match — i think him and shawn’s iron man match is my all time fave

- bret said something about shawn’s parents being embarrassed about the playgirl shoot — this set shawn off

- shawn said for some reason he really wanted bret’s pat on the back, his validation and affirmation

- bret thought him and shawn were always on the same page about their fake heat

- bret felt shafted by shawn for the wrestlemania switch, felt shawn let the company down

- all the things bret ever said about shawn was strictly about his character

- bret and shawn would work out what they were gonna say about each other (in 97) and shawn would be like “great 😄👍🏼” but then bret would come back into the locker room and shawn would be like “😢” while everyone was like “great work bret! 😁” — shawn smiles and laughs as bret says this

- bret thought the “pat on the back” that shawn was looking for was incoming, all he wanted to do was build up shawn and make him even bigger than he was. bret knew his time was coming to an end and always had plans for shawn to be his successor but bret admits that he was way too realistic with the heat and it ruined his and shawn’s relationship

- shawn felt that him and his character were one, attacking shawn michaels the wrestler, the kayfabe was attacking shawn the person

- bret didn’t like shawn’s stripping in the ring as a babyface then him bringing kids in the ring to dance with him — bret felt it was wrong — they had a light disagreement here

- shawn didn’t have the capacity at the time to put his feelings aside for business because he felt insecure about his public perception

- bret just wanted to get money with shawn, he feels horrible for damaging the trust between them — didn’t understand how much heat he had with shawn until the sunny days promo

- bret probably wouldn’t care too much about the sunny days comment if his kids and family weren’t asking him if he’s cheating w sunny

- i think the actual start of the real beef was “bret’s announcement” promo where shawn sweet chin musics bret into his wheelchair —- bret went on too long because he couldn’t hear his cue in his headset due to the noise of the crowd so he made them go off air and shawn didn’t get to do the kick before the cameras cut. shawn was LIVID about this bc he felt bret did it on purpose to humiliate him and be able to berate him live with shawn not being able to retaliate.

- shawn says him and bret would have convos where bret would say “just trust me” but felt bret had it out for him and this promo was proof so now shawn was talking the gloves off and refusing to respect bret —- then he did the sunny days promo

- “the cat fight in hartford” as bret calls it came after the sunny days promo

- apparently after all this, they were still on decent terms. (also random fun fact that was not told in this interview: the costume ladies stopped making bret’s ring attire because he beat up shawn in hartford). bret was told him and shawn had a wrestlemania spot (xiv im guessing shawn says he didn’t know that) so he told shawn he had no problem putting him over. shawn said “thank you and i appreciate that but i would never do the same for you”— neidhart and ken shamrock were there

- bret says the next day, he goes to tulsa, ok tv tapings (its crazy that he remembers such details) and vince says bret you have to drop the belt in montreal to shawn but bret tells vince what shawn said about not putting him over

- vince said im gonna get shawn and you’ll repeat what you just said, vince finds him and just says “im gonna put the belt on you shawn” and shawn starts acting fake and praises bret

- so bret did not want to put shawn over because he disrespected him

- one thing that people always get wrong about the lead up to the screwjob that pisses me off is that they think bret had a huge vendetta against shawn and didn’t want to drop to him or anyone, wanted to carry the belt to wcw and he didn’t wanna lose in canada EVER and that bret was being a difficult bitch in the midst of this when bret has said time and time again this was not true:

1. bret had no problem dropping the belt to shawn initially. he was happy to do it but shawn telling bret he wouldn’t put him over is what ruined it.

2. bret had no intention of bringing the belt to wcw ever. he and vince went over many ways that he could drop the belt — on raw, the next in your house, ss. it was never an issue. and he said he would’ve dropped it to ANYONE. so no the screwjob was not a “business decision” like triple h, stone cold and undertaker claim. i could get that it was supposed to be business as in they needed to start the attitude era and shawn was supposed to be the face of the company for that and needed the belt but stone cold could’ve gotten it and have a stone cold vs shawn match and spend more time beefing up dx. drop to undertaker — shawn vs undertaker again in a rematch after that in your house hell in a cell. there were ways. plus the way they went about it kinda breached bret’s contract but thats another post (i could really do a montreal screwjob post if anyone is interested because i know basically EVERY public detail about it now).

3. “ooh bret just didn’t wanna lose in canada!!” okay is that so bad? that’s his biggest audience and home country. plus they don’t run that many shows there anyway so why can’t we let bret have that? also bret said he would’ve dropped the belt in ottawa and where is that? okay then.

-triple h having a say in this decision is very weird to me. hunter said “fuck bret not wanting to drop the belt to shawn. if he doesn’t wanna do business, we’ll do it for him” he egged on the double cross. im also confused as to why shawn and triple h are in the management room like they’re execs and why are we going over finishes without the second party of the match? thats not how its supposed to be done.

-for bret, it was all about respect. for shawn, it was about validation. i just don’t get why it was so important to get it from bret. maybe because bret’s a vet? he knows the business in and out, has played almost every role central to pro wrestling, from a wrestling royalty family — possibly bret not validating shawn felt like a burial of his talent? like the expert who has seen almost all the greats can’t recognize that same greatness in him which makes him feel like he’s not as good as he thinks he is?

-if im hearing this correctly, shawn didn’t know how the double cross was going to go. he knew it was going to happen but not exactly how.

-bret and shawn had a final heart to heart the day of or hours before the screwjob, talking about their problems, how they were fucked up in their connection and trying to reestablish some trust going into the SS match — shawn starts crying a bit here because he feels so guilty about his involvement in the screwjob

-shawn felt he had a huge weight on lap with the decision to carry out the screwjob or change the finish— he said he did what he was told because he felt like a little soldier for the company (for vince)

-shawn said this was easily one of the lowest points in his career

-vince wanted to take full responsibility for the screwjob but shawn is ?? abt that bc shawn is gonna be the one in the locker room and the matches so who’s really gonna feel the heat?

-bret didn’t punch or rough up shawn after the screwjob because he didn’t know if shawn was really involved or not and would feel bad if he physically hurt him while he was innocent. bret said he would feel bad about it for the rest of his life.

-bret had 275 days in his contract for 97 but did 310 days

-bret was devastated about this double cross — bret holds back tears after he says this

-bret felt more betrayed by shawn than vince. he said if it were the other way around and they wanted bret to screw shawn, “there would be nothing they do or say to get me to do that”

- bret categorizes himself as “one of the boys” not a “company guy”

-even after everything, bret still had respect for shawn

-i understand why bret was so absolutely pissed about the double cross because 300 days for 14 years — sick, hurt, missing family, leaving on christmas just for them to say fuck you and get the fuck out

-side note: bret tells shawn canada doesn’t hate you because of the screwjob but because you dry humped the flag

-not to be extra but there’s an interlude here where wwe sums up their lives post screwjob and bret’s section is just absolutely devastating (becsuse his life after really was) — owen’s death, his concussion, his mom died, davey boy died, his stroke, his dad dies after (thats a LOT of trauma over the span of 6 years) while shawn’s section is just like yeah he broke his back but had an amazing, spectacular, spiritually fulfilling journey where like fine wine he got better with time like alright…

-bret says he was so angry about everything related to wwe that he felt like “parachuting in[to raw] with a machine gun”. he wondered how he could arrange it 😭

-tyson kidd told bret that shawn still feels bad about what happened (i think this was 2009?) and wanted to call bret to talk. bret told tyson to give shawn his number. bret waited for shawn to call for a year and asked tyson why he hadn’t.

-the big motivator for bret to reach out to shawn was the wrestlemania xxv match with shawn and undertaker— bret was so proud of him and undertaker and wanted to call shawn to congratulate him.

-shawn didn’t call bret because he was scared (shawn says this so bluntly). he wanted to make up with bret so badly that he couldn’t handle bret being closed off to reconciliation.

-the make up in the ring was very genuine.

-shawn is very torn up about the fact that he didn’t have the ability back then to…not be an asshole. he wished he was a better person and he got a little worked up and choked up about the fact that he was not. it devastates him that his poor decisions and emotional stability ruined his connection with bret.

-shawn also says with the utmost conviction: “for whatever reason, i just wanted bret hart to like me”

- there’s a very cute clip here from the interview day (theyre in some other room) where bret makes some joke, shawn laughs and grabs bret’s arm while bret smiles 😊

-clip of bret and shawn strolling the dock, just chatting

-bret on forgiving shawn: “it pulled this weight off of shawn. it set him free which in turn set me free”

-clip of bret showing shawn something on his phone

-shawn is just so happy to have made up with bret. you could tell he missed him.

-the final line of the interview from jim ross is “hope lives. thank you.” the drama of it all.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but i dont know many scottish people and idk who to talk to about this book I found on audible. It's called Imogène, by french author Charles Exbrayat. Do you know him /the book? I've started reading it but I had to pause because, while being sold as a "humorous spy story" I find the protagonist, a "very proudly scottish" woman, to be... an offensive caricature? Like she acts like a fool, honestly. This book contains some interesting points about sexism (it was published in 1959), and ridiculous british habits (such as employees forced to give money for princess anna's birthday or being socially scorned). I'm sure the shared dislike / distrust the protagonist and her british colleagues feel are (were?) realistic. But she is so extra, and the story keeps telling how lonely she is, even after working 20 years in london. She has No friends, most acquitances dont talk to her for various motivations, her bosses hates her ... idk I feel this book is actually mocking scottish people? Or scottish women??? I was SO there for a "strong woman protagonist who gives cutting remarks to her boss or peers", but this looks wrong. Idk. I didnt know whom ask for inputs. Maybe i'm reading too much into it. Feel free to ignore this mega rant. Have a good day!

I think cultural and historical context and time of publication-- which was almost 70 years ago --are important factors to take into consideration when we look at fiction through our current expectations.

I can’t speak to the book as I’ve never read it, but speaking as a Scots woman who worked for an English publishing house for a while, being made to feel alienated by my boss and others due to being Scottish was unfortunately still something going on in 2011.

I’d get lots of “Oh but you sound so eloquent” remarks regarding my thinned-out accent (something I did on purpose to avoid being told to “speak properly” which was also something I heard a lot in school if I ever used my native Scots language instead of “Queen’s English.”) and one time my boss referred to me as “their civilized Scot” to an American author, whose Scottish romance book I was supposed to be fixing the dialogue on.

The phrasing was along the lines of, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her. Joy is our civilized Scot.”

The author laughed and made another derogatory comment about how they just loved Scottish accents even if it was unintelligible a lot of the time. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose my first career job.

I kept my mouth shut a lot in that job.

In that regard I could very well empathize with the character being lonely and not engaging with anyone, even after 20 years.

The proud Scottish woman can be a bit of a caricature, but that doesn't necessarily mean it is intended as mocking.

Again, cultural/historical context matters.

I wasn’t alive in 1959, but I know there was a lot of Scottish media about the time that leaned into the stubbornness and pride of Scots women both for humor and to make societal commentary on the fact that women were strong and more independent than they’d ever been following two world two and a lot of men weren’t happy about it and wanted them to go back into their boxes. As a result the mouthy, proud Scots woman became a mockable caricature that turned women into shrill, over proud scolds.

Get back in your box or we’ll make fun of you, basically.

So is this book being mocking, or is it employing popular tropes of the time, knowing that audience will understand what it means and that the female protagonist is being subversive despite what others expect from her?

I can’t say. Again, haven’t read it. It could be utter dogshit and making total fun of my culture. But I do think when looking at older media we need to put our thinking caps on and think, “How would the audience of the time, 1959, have viewed and engaged with this?”

Expecting a “strong female protagonist” as we know it from media today isn’t going to work with media that’s almost 70 years old.

Hell, the “strong woman protagonist” wasn’t even something any piece of media could agree on when I was growing up in the 90s.

Times change. Literary tropes and preferences change. It helps to keep that in mind.