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sl-newsie · 4 months

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American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 4: Persuasive

“What kind of rubbish is this?”

The voice is so sharp it jolts me from a deep sleep, making me panic when I try to recognize my unfamiliar surroundings. Oh, right. I’m employed now.

“But Tommy, it’s really good!” I hear Finn complain.

“I don’t care! It’s American rubbish is what it is!” Thomas barks.

As quick as I can, I hastily throw on a robe I find in the closet and peek my head out.

“What’s going on?”

Outside, Thomas is holding the copy Common Sense I gave to Finn yesterday. They both look over and see me, then Finn starts laughing.

“Nice robe!”

Confused, I look down and inspect the robe for any unusual features only to find nothing. “What’s wrong with it?”

“That’s Tommy’s old robe.”

His words send a blush creeping across my cheeks, one that I hope goes unnoticed. “Sorry about that. I was getting dressed in a hurry. What’s all this yelling about?”

Thomas’ jaw tightens and he strides over to corner me against the wall, holding the book in my face.

“Is this yours?”

I nod stiffly. “Yes. I gave it to Finn to see if he’d like it. I’m trying to find him more interesting topics to read-”

“Well, keep your American ideas to yourself. He needs to be educated, not fed ideas of rebellion and philosophy.”

His words send anger coursing through me, waking me up from my dazed state. “Since when do you get to decide if my American ideas aren’t good enough? You may be my boss, but your aunt hired me.” I snatch the book. “If you think my resources are unworthy then take it up with her.”

In a furious rage, Thomas storms down the hall and slams the door, startling Polly who has just come from the other door.

“What’s he on about now?”

“He doesn’t want me to read American literature,” Finn whines.

“What?” Polly scoffs. “That stubborn fool. Verena, I don’t care what he says. I’m sure whatever books you suggest will be efficient.” She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I will talk to him. Right now, get cleaned up and ready. Your first lesson with Finn can begin after he’s finished breakfast.”

“Is Thomas always this arrogant?”

She shakes her head in defeat. “He has his mother’s common sense, but his father’s devilment. Lord knows he needs help.”

A thought pops into my head.

“Before Finn’s lesson, I might wish to do some reading or sit in prayer. There wouldn't happen to be a church or chapel here? Or just some quiet place where I could clear my head?”

Polly’s eyes light up. “I’ve got just the palace for you.”

It really is a beautiful church. Not too big, but still grand and modest at the same time. I’m not Catholic but the welcoming atmosphere is refreshing compared to the ugly world outside-

“Oh.” I’m startled to see I’m not the only one here. “Fancy seeing you here,” I speak up.

Thomas doesn’t turn to face me. “Did Polly send you here to reprehend me? Scold me for being too forbidding of your culture?” He says in a darkly taunting voice.

“Actually, no. She said she’d stop by later to give you a personal chat about something important. I’m here to pray.”

Tommy doesn’t argue and allows me to sit in the pew across from him, staying quiet and pulling out a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you, you know. My father smokes too, but I was never a fan of it. Doctors may not agree yet, but I say that smoking only increases the risk of lung failure. Plus, the smell can be unbearable. Especially to children.”

“Are you here to preach or pray, love?” Thomas complains.

I keep my mouth shut and close my eyes for prayer, silently hoping that my family will send for me. I ask for blessings on the entire Shelby family for helping me, even if some of them can be very unlikable at times.

I’m amazed that Thomas never interrupts me. If anything, it’s as if he’s tried to not make a sound at all since I’ve started. When I finish I see he’s lost in thought, so I quietly stand up and walk down the pews to give him privacy-

“You hate it here, don’t you?” Thomas stops me in my tracks. “That’s what you prayed for, eh? For your family to come get you or for some dashing bloke to come rescue you from this Hell hole? Say what you want about us, but this is our home.”

After taking a calming breath, I pivot and walk back to stand across from him. “Are you always this gallant of yourself? Always assuming everyone is against you?” I put my hands on my hips and look up to face his icy eyes. “Yes, I do wish to leave here. Call it sappy, but I’m homesick! Imagine going from being on vacation to being stranded somewhere alone where the town is like a demilitarized zone and the people are snakes!”

Thomas holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa! We’re not all snakes.” He leans in and snickers. “It’s the coppers who are the snakes.”

I roll my eyes. “You can be unbearably arrogant. I imagine you’ve got all of Small Heath wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“If you say so,” I shrug and walk back to the door.

“Where are you off to now?” Thomas calls.

“Off to teach Finn’s lesson before you can persuade me to go jump in the river.”

The lesson was a success. Ever since Finn got to read my ‘contrabanned’ books he’s been all but willing to learn. He definitely has his brothers’ ambition and attitude. Polly came in a few times to check up on us and seemed pleased. Even Thomas popped in once to “fetch some cigarettes,” but still couldn’t hide his interest when I began lecturing about macroeconomics.

“How do you know so much about finance?” He outright asks.

Haha, funny story. The truth is that my Uncle Colon liked me best out of all my brothers, and therefore spent extra time with me teaching about the family business. Not my father’s brewery, but the unofficial mob business. I can’t exactly come right out and say “It’s because my family’s in the mafia,” so I decide to do a small white lie.

“I read a lot, so I pick things up here and there.” Not a complete lie.

Tommy arches a brow but appears convinced and walks off down the hall. Once he’s gone, Finn looks at me with a mischievous grin.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing.” Finn goes back to reading. “I’ve never seen Tommy interested in books until you showed up.”

“You didn’t like them either,” I try to re-route the conversation.

Finn just shrugs and keeps reading, leaving me to ponder over what he just said. I don’t know Thomas well enough, but is Finn right? Has me being here made him start acting differently? He doesn’t take me as someone who gets emotionally attached to people. From what I can gather, he’s incredibly cold and forbidding, making me wonder if he’s capable of any emotion other than anger and pride. I push the thought aside and continue making notes for the week’s lesson plan.

Later that night I help make bread despite Polly’s bickering about me “being a house guest.” The only one missing is Ada, but no one seems to notice. All the while Thomas keeps whispering to his brothers, who are all looking back and forth at me as if I’m a painting on the wall. After everyone’s eaten they all go their separate ways, and once again I retreat to my room for some light reading before bed. Turns out it goes much faster than I plan because then next time I check the clock it’s one in the morning.

Click!

I look up from the page I’m reading, alerted by a noise coming from the hallway. “What on Earth…?”

Quietly, I creep to the door and open it a crack to see a woman’s silhouette creeping in from the back door. It’s Ada. Sneaking in during the late night hours? Suspicious…

Opening the door wider, she freezes at the sound of the creaking wood.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look as though you’ve got something to hide.”

She turns around slowly, then relaxes when she sees it’s me. “You Americans always this blunt and cocky?”

I tilt my head. “When we want to be. I’ve been taking a lesson from your brothers about being cocky. But I’m not the one keeping secrets, Ada. I’m not a Shebly. You answer to Polly, not me.”

My response surprises her because she smiles and shakes her head. “I never said I’d say anything.”

I shrug. “You didn’t. But that won’t stop your consciousness overwhelming you with guilt.”

This takes a few moments to completely wash over her. Ada keeps staring at me with an indescribable face, then slowly starts to walk past me towards her own room.

“Wow. American and a philosopher. Polly must be proud of your strong moral compass.”

Wait. She’s offended by this? “Ada, I’m not trying to offend you. Heck, I just promised to keep my mouth shut about your late return! Why are you mad?”

Ada gets to her door and stops to look me dead in the eyes. “Maybe it’s because an outsider is allowed into our house without question? Hm? You’re a stranger from America, we don’t know who you or your family are, and Polly just lets you in like you’re a stray dog.”

Her words keep firing at me like a conversational battle. “I’m not playing into your family’s kindness to gain anything. I was offered housing and employment, so I accepted it. Yes, I know I’m an outsider. So I say again: if you have a problem, take it up with Polly.” I throw my arms up to end the chat and stride back to my room, but not before I hear:

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s not just the Americans who are stubborn.”

Without turning my head, I answer: “Stereotypes are ways to dig yourself into a hole of assumptions. Goodnight, Ms. Shelby.”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #grace burgess

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dg-outlaw · 8 months

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Emotional Damage. Worse than the Joker?

After sitting with Batman #138, I got to thinking about how much emotional damage Bruce inflicted on Jason with what he did to Jason. Working through some things myself lately, I thought more about fear and how it relates to survival, endurance, and the hang-ups we have that affect our lives. But less about me and more about Jason Todd.

Yes, I know there’s the idea that it’s all Zur-En-Arrh and not really Bruce, but still. If there was something to snap Bruce out of whatever battle is going on in his mind, mentally altering (without consent) and "abusing" his own son in such a deep way, should’ve been it.

I know some have cited how adrenaline kicks in during all sorts of activities and scenarios (and not just in times of violence or aggression), which is true, but what I thought about was how much adrenaline and will has played a part in Jason’s overall survival as a character.

As a boy who grew up in Crime Alley with a drug addicted mother, Catherine, that he cared for often, his childhood was probably filled with fear. But giving into fear is something that likely doesn’t help you survive in Crime Alley, especially when Jason became orphaned. He fended for himself, took care of Catherine until she died, and then took care of himself. He was probably afraid all the time, but he pushed through with adrenaline, cortisol, and whatever else he needed to survive.

Then Bruce happened. As Jason Todd he was given a bit of peace, but then it was back to survival mode as a Robin—though likely a choice he made with Bruce’s approval because what little boy wouldn’t want to be Robin? The role of Robin alone is all about adrenaline, survival, and combatting fear.

Then there was the Joker.

We all know the story, but I think about it again as I see posts about the young actress who played Ahsoka in the live-action series and how it helped some contextualize the idea of child soldiers and just how young Ahsoka was during the Clone Wars. The same can be said for the Robins. So now we can think about a young, scrawny boy, alone in a warehouse getting beaten nearly to death by a psychopath with a crowbar. Again, fear, loneliness, and potential loss of hope. But Jason endured, and even in the end tried to save himself and his mother through use of adrenaline and sheer force of will.

Flash forward and Jason is suddenly alive, still broken and bruised but basically buried alive. More fear and another chance to let it finish him off, but Jason doesn’t give in. He pushes fear aside, breaks through his casket, and crawls out from his grave. Again, still a teenager and still alone as he wandered the streets, confused and hungry. All of this to say that Jason is fucking survivor, probably more so than Bruce (IMO).

Bruce may have harnessed and used his fear, but he suppresses it. Jason owns it, lives it, and has had it looking over his soldier for as long as he can probably remember. It probably whispers in his ear all the time and says, “You’re still just a scared little boy and you’re going to die. Just give up.” But he doesn’t. Yes, he’s easily written off as the angry one or the one always pissing everyone off, but I think that’s just his defense mechanism. It’s the wall that hides his fear, but unlike Bruce he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to let his emotions out, even when he tries not to. I want to believe those behaviors are Jason venting his fear and anger so they don’t consume him or so he doesn't get hurt, even if he doesn’t always do it in the most healthy of ways.

So yeah, for Bruce to think that somehow Jason is going to live some happy American Dream in Metropolis (God forbid any aliens or bad guys attack that city, something that never happens), then Bruce still doesn’t know his son.

In way, whether it’s all Zur-En-Arrh’s doing or not, turning Jason’s adrenaline into crippling fear, taking a core part of him that has kept him alive and fighting all these years, is worse than what the Joker did.

So I don’t think any amount of Bat or Big Belly burgers and hugs will fix that. My only hope, based on the description for Red Hood, Issue #2: (JASON TODD PREPARES FOR BATTLE! Batman's plan for Jason Todd backfires…but in a good way? The Red Hood prepares for the final battle of the Gotham War…but what will he have left when the dust settles?!), is that Jason finds a way to overcome Bruce’s programming on his own. I think if Bruce created a failsafe for the failsafe, or if one of the other Batfam members helps him, it’ll cheapen his character. I’m fine if someone is there to support him, but I think if the writers want to respect Jason and show his strength as a character, it’ll be Jason doing the work to prove his will is stronger than Bruce’s when he beats the fear programming. We even see this in a different way in Urban Legends when Jason was able to fight off the Cheer gas to save Bruce.

But for now, when I see this.

I’ll think about this Bruce and Jason instead.

#jason todd #red hood #batman #batman comics #you got this Jason #thanks for coming to my TED Talk

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epickiya722 · 4 months

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If you don't mind me asking, can I ask your top favorite fics that you've written (feel free how much that you want to list)? Why they're special to you? Is there a specific inspiration when you wrote them?

Thanks if you want to answer....

I'll tell you, all my fics are special to me and most of the time, I find myself having fun writing them. Writing isn't just a hobby, but a way for me to release pent up feelings I have or express an idea that came to me.

To name a couple...

Beware of the Bunnies - It's the first fic I wrote for "if Miruko was Midoriya's mentor". It was fun writing that fic, especially when it's a fic for my two #1 faves. I honestly didn't expect the amount of attention I got for it!

Not Red, Black - I sometimes like branching out from writing warm-hearted, funny fics and this is one of those times. Another AU idea I had, but if Miruko and Midoriya were eldritch-like creatures and related. Unlike its prequel, this one stepped more in horror imagery and I think the direction the fic took.

Forbid a Woman from Being Great - Yes, another Miruko fic and one I actually wrote out of spite. When it comes to this fandom (as with any), is how double standard they can get. With Miruko, I have seem people hate her for being "too aggressive" or "too mean", but praise other characters for those same traits or even give excuses for their behavior. Or with fanservice, the same people who complain about it also thirst over the male characters getting bloody and shirtless. I don't hate characters like Dabi, Shigaraki or Hawks but I can't stomach how their fans act when it comes to Miruko or any other character really. It was actually a Hawks fan that irritated me enough to write this fic as well as get me out of the writing funk I was in.

An Absolute Menace - This is a fun little fic. It's part of a series of Class A and occasionally B partaking in antics. With this one, writing Koda as this troll was new, but fun.

Let's SK8 Over the Rainbow - This is actually a SK8 series that I wrote and it's still one of my favorites. It started off as a headcanon (Reki allowing Koyomi to paint his nails) and then spiraled into a collection of short stories themed around colors and I love colors so much. One of the fics, You're Lime Green Jell-O, I dove into expanding a character that only appeared once in SK8. Her name is Miki and she has green hair and I remember seeing her and going "You, you're getting some personality, a story, etc." Best decision ever. I just loved writing Miki and I think it was the first time I wrote a whole story for a character that only had two lines in canon.

Tu es le Moment Auquel J'appartiens - Another series I adore. I wanted to write some jealous Vanitas since I don't think I had seen a lot of Vanoé fics where he was the jealous one while Noé was more oblivious. Not at the time, I don't know about now since I haven't read a VNC fic in a long time. The title translates to "You are the moment I belong to" which is a line of lyrics from the anime's first ending song that I love so much.

It's the Pink Hair, Isn't It? - Do not get me wrong! I do love the AUs I see where Sukuna and Yuji are brothers, but the idea of this fic came from what if they were identical strangers and not related in the slightest. Even funnier, in the fic, Kenjaku and Suguru are siblings that look like twins, but Kenjaku is older. My favorite scenes probably have to be Kenjaku and Yuji interacting and Sukuna and Yuji meeting. I've also been cooking up a sequel so I can write more of Kenjaku and Suguru being siblings and Yuji's brothers and I do mean all nine older brothers. (I relate to Choso so much.)

Your Heartbeat Is My Comfort - Ever see a beautiful piece of fanart and you want to write a fic about it? That's what happened here. I saw this FushiIta art post here and it was like BAM! I had to write a fic. It was also another I didn't write something comedic, but more somber, bit of tragedy yet comfort in there.

Maybe Someday We'll Meet Again - I'm all for the Teacher Geto AU! However, this fic came from a what if scenario had Suguru and Yuji had met when they were younger and I always how Kenjaku was even aware of Suguru's technique. So I put both ideas together and thus this fic was born. It isn't dark, but little less comedic than others and I tried my hand at focusing on more of Yuji's strangeness and innocence here along with Suguru's character before he became a curse user.

You Are My Special - Again, another time I went for less comedy and fluff and tried with something else. I actually don't know how to categorize this one in terms of genre. SPECIALZ was stuck in my head for a long time and it got when I really started thinking about the lyrics and decided why not try writing something from Kenjaku's POV about Yuji? It may have took forever to write, but I'm glad I did. I actually wanted to write a companion piece of sorts but from Sukuna's POV about Yuji.

The Pink Sky and Cherry Blossoms - I actually just posted this fic and I'm glad I waited to answer this ask because of it. I was rereading the manga and came to Uro's fight with Ryu and Yuta and instantly fell in love with her character and thought about how would it have been like if Uro met my other favorite, Yuji? They have some similarities going on there and it was eye-opening writing those into this fic, especially with Uro's character. I wasn't around when that arc came out, so I didn't know how the fandom acted towards her, but for me, I just felt there's more to her than the surface. She's the Miruko of JJK to me as Yuji is the Izuku. Just as I would love for Miruko and Izuku to be a duo in a big sis-lil bro/mentor-mentee way, I love the same for Uro and Yuji.

The Craving That Paints Your Lips Red - The last fic I wrote for 2023 and a sequel to another fic, I wanted to try my hand at the horror again. But more tame, but still "Oh my gosh". I'm writing a post about it, but I have thoughts about Yuji and Sukuna's relationship and sometimes I have this feeling that Sukuna wants to corrupt Yuji, kind of like shape him to be the next him almost. Not for certain, but it's an idea that kind of struck me. For this fic, I wanted to explore a more horror fic side of Yuji housing the King of Curses. The best part of this fic for me is how I unintentionally stuck with the idea that Yuji keeps getting back up no matter how many times Sukuna tries to break him.

That list got longer than intended, but again, I have a lot of fics I have enjoyed writing! I'm glad to have talked about them and I thank you for asking! 💜

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polarisbibliotheque · 1 year

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Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 5

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Self-hatred, self-doubt, a lot of blood and difficult emotions going on this chapter. The reader and Vergil face their own selves, seeing them as fragile, hurt, bleeding, frail beings. There's a lot of "I'm not worthy of love" from Vergil too. It all happens after the fight with the Hell Puppeteer, so reader discretion thoroughly advised.

Seriously. If you struggle with themes like these and struggle with imagining yourself hurt/crying/vulnerable and it is too much, I do recommend not reading after the fight. The part where it begins will be in red, and underneath it, things get complicated. Take care of yourself and your mental health! ^^

Special Thanks: To @furyeclipse, the wonderful being who allowed me to use her character, Ovid, and is always helping me write their part properly and screaming over DMC on DMs ^^ You can check out Fury's writing (which I highly recommend) on this link: Fury's Ao3 Author's Notes: Oh, so much going on. The bantering with Vergil. The fighting alongside him. The mind horror of the Abyss. *sighs* jokes aside, I'm loving writing a reader who doesn't make it easy for Vergil. He deserves it for being a brat during blue coat era ;D And I regret nothing regarding the fistfight

Also, last chapter was quite small. Well, this one is quite huge. Buckle up! I hope you guys like it!

Chapter 5

“Perhaps the Abyss is some sort of prison.”

You only realized you muttered your thoughts out loud when Vergil’s eyes diverted from the street ahead to your frame by his side. You looked back at him – you researched on your own and spent most of the time on your company, unused to having someone else alongside you. Speaking to yourself out loud, even if in a murmur, was an acquired trait.

“What do you think?” You tried to conceal that fact pretending you intended to start a conversation. The blue devil didn’t need to know you were a pathetic little being who talked to yourself out of loneliness.

If only you knew back then Vergil did the same, you wouldn’t have felt that awkward about your little slip.

“You tell me, human. After all, you are the one with the source of knowledge on the Abyss.”

You couldn’t hide from your reaction how unsatisfied you were with his answer. Vergil knew he had won that round of bantering.

“Tsc. Every source I’ve found on human arcane libraries haven’t got much information. You probably know it as well.” You rolled your eyes, unsheathing your sword. Something stirred inside your chest and that could only mean the extinct demons were close. “I’m wondering why there’s a Puppeteer inside the Abyss if it was given as extinct an eternity ago.”

“It can be a prison…” Vergil considered back, brooding for a while. He could hear as if it was happening right at that moment: the voice of his mother, calling him from inside the Abyss. If it was indeed a prison, then why would Eva be in there? Would it be the work of Mundus? To make his mother suffer for the act of defiance from his father? Was… Sparda in there too…?

After all those years, Vergil never knew what happened to Sparda. He saw Eva brutally murdered by those demons – and yes, there was a great possibility they had taken her to eternal suffering. Dante was supposed to be dead if she hadn’t gone through all that to save at least him… Only him.

Vergil should’ve died that day: mercilessly sliced by his own sword, his bloody body thrown in a forgotten cemetery while all his memories of a heaven burned to ashes, with only Dante as a survivor. If Vergil’s demon hadn’t awakened that fateful day, he should’ve been dead. It was his father’s blood that saved him, his father’s heritage – something he was infinitely proud of; after all, it was the only thing he had left.

But… What about Sparda? Where was he? Did Mundus’ demons kill him? Did he perish in a fight while trying to keep them away from his family? Did he abandon them…?

Vergil’s greatest strength was also his greatest weakness. He had to stop thinking sometimes – and only his endless pursue of power gave him a little peace of mind.

“It can also be another level of Hell. A deeper one.” He finally emerged from the endless dark water of the ocean in his mind. If he didn’t, Vergil could easily drown.

“Hmmm. How does it open sometimes? It should be like Hell, with many seals and ways to open it.”

“If it is, it was probably sealed by Sparda.” Vergil side-eyed you, hoping to analyze your reaction to his father’s name. Many humans feared him, but many adored him, seeing Sparda as a savior of humanity. Even those who feared were thankful for the devil who protected mankind so many years ago.

“I don’t think so… If Sparda really existed, he locked the gates of Hell. The Abyss keeps opening, so there must be something different about it.” You sighed, not giving much to Vergil other than your words. “Even if it is another level of Hell, it might not be part of what Sparda sealed away. If the legends are true, of course.”

“If…?” The word rolled slowly from Vergil’s tongue, as he kept gazing you. It was the first time he met a skeptic regarding his father’s origin.

“It might be just a bunch of hocus pocus, you know?” You shrugged. “A story to keep children scared and away from dangerous forests, like Hänsel and Gretl. As far as I know, that’s how great legends are born.”

“So you don’t believe in the Legend of Sparda?”

“I never found a piece of evidence that it actually happened.” You noted with an academic air to your speech. Vergil had to hold down the urge to wheeze from your words – after all, you were talking to the greatest evidence that Sparda was real. “I read a lot on books and yes, I do believe Sparda existed. I just… I don’t know if he was as heroic as the tales say he is.”

Vergil pondered your words for a minute before thinking about answering them. Indeed, Sparda was harsh and demanding, but he also knew when to show them love and care. From what he remembered, his father enjoyed the little human things – and how soft it was to touch them all in warm embraces, how magic it was to play fight with him and Dante on the fields, how gently he would caress Eva’s face… How much adoration he carried in his eyes.

When Vergil was a child, Sparda was never the great, heroic demon, savior of humanity – Sparda was his father. With flaws and strengths, he was just… Vergil’s dad.

Not as heroic as the tales said he was – just ordinarily human.

Vergil would have found an answer after mulling over your words if you weren’t both attacked by puppets – humanoid demons, looking like parts of various creatures who were reassembled together, walking in wobbly legs, falling apart at the joints, but attacking viciously with teeth and claws.

You avoided the attack by separating and allowing the demon to stumble between you. Soon, it had no arms left: you and Vergil attacked at the same time, curiously coordinated, slashing the demon apart. As you cut it in half, Vergil took off its head.

“Guess we’re close…” You pointed at the path ahead of you, making Vergil realize how many more puppets stood in your way.

“Try to keep up.”

His voice was arrogant as always, as Vergil plunged into battle. You scoffed, running right after him.

If you weren’t sworn enemies, you would be the perfect match in a fight – no demon would be powerful enough to bring down the both of you in battle, fair or not. Vergil was learning and applying, for quite a while now, the power of concentration over lashing out – but he was indeed aware of all his surroundings, including you.

As the dance of death among the puppets commenced, his silver eyes sometimes would linger a second or two longer than it should in your direction. Your movements, as he observed before, were swift and elegant, but there was something of aggressive. A viciousness picked up after fighting demons for a while – something you didn’t have before. As the days passed, you became increasingly stronger and a match to him.

And quite a match you were indeed – the speed with which your silver sword moved, painted only gleams of bright light between the dark blood of demons spilling on the pavement. Right by your side, the ghost of the Yamato could barely be seen as the blue devil used all his skill to slay as many demons as you – or even more.

Your back found Vergil’s back as you both stood still at the end of the street, finally settling your swords and observing the carnage of demons scattered across the ground. On the other side, the Hell Puppeteer had its soulless black holes meant to be eyes turned to you, the mouth eternally opened in distress, screeching with the loss of its demon army.

“A horde down…”

“One more to go.” Vergil completed your thoughts, slowly turning alongside you towards the Hell Puppeteer.

The ancient demon was at least three times taller than you, but neither you nor the blue devil’s steps faltered while walking towards it. The red mouth gleamed a haunting aura in the cold air of the night, but you and Vergil held your heads tall.

He was the only one who carried as much pride as you did in your steps.

What brought you both to a halt, though, was the sound of dragging. Thousands of things dragging, right behind you. Turning quickly, you and Vergil found all the parts of the demons you had previously slain to be dragging towards each other, grotesquely reassembling in wobbly creatures and screeching towards you once again.

Of course. They were puppets. Killing them wouldn’t be that easy.

“This will take forever at this pace.” Vergil groaned between his teeth, keeping his eyes on the approaching demons.

You sighed: even if you didn’t want to admit, he was right. If those demons really could reassemble and weren’t even alive to begin with, constantly tearing them apart would do nothing. How, then, would you kill something already dead?

As you looked up, quickly searching for the stars to illuminate your thoughts, the red gleam of the Hell Puppeteer – slowly approaching you, with its guttural screech that could haunt the bravest of human hearts – made you notice something you wouldn’t have seen in other circumstances: faint lines in the sky, as if made of the finest and purest glass, falling from behind you towards the little puppets.

With a quick glance, you chuckled within yourself: it was indeed a puppeteer – for those glass strings tied firmly across the dark claws of the Hell Puppeteer.

“Look at the sky.” You pointed out, making Vergil’s silver eyes finally see what you were seeing. “I’m guessing if we cut the strings, they will all fall apart for good. But…” You sighed once again, already attacking one of the creatures who were close enough to hurt you. “There are too many of them. I’m not that quick; the Puppeteer will catch us before we’re done.”

Vergil looked back in a matter of seconds, arriving to the same conclusion as you. There was only one thing he could do, then.

“Stay behind me and don’t move.”

You furrowed your brows, ready to argue with that conceited demon right in front of you. Who did he think he was to talk to you like that? Hadn’t you proved already you were strong enough to beat him in a fair – or even unfair – fight? You had managed to draw his blood. He shouldn’t be that full of himself and patronizing towards you.

Before you could even start to argue, Vergil sheathed the Yamato and, with a snapping sound while his head quickly looked up, the man gave room to a creature with the strike of a blue lightning. You had no words, but there he was: with skin made of black and blue scales, the sheath of the sword as part of his arm, claws instead of nails and horns crowning his head.

You took a few steps back as he took his hand back to the Yamato, flexing his legs in an attacking position you had noticed already he had a preference for. Your feet stopped moving, though, when the air around you seemed to warp. Time itself became denser, almost as if you were under a gelatinous body of water. It was increasingly difficult to breath until he disappeared in the blink of an eye.

With eyes wide, you maintained your feet glued to your place as you only managed to see dark blue figures of warped air and the sharp glimmer of the Yamato cutting everything on its path. The floor underneath your feet trembled slightly and, in a matter of seconds, the blue devil was kneeling in front of you, in a typical position to finish his attack.

As he got up and that devilish form enveloped in a ring of blue light, the man with white hair and silver eyes returned to his human form, finally sheathing the Yamato once again.

And, when he did, all the strings exploded in a million of pieces, cut in a fraction of seconds, falling from the sky like a crystal rain.

All the demons fell to the floor at once – dismembered. Unmoving. Defeated.

You had to admit to yourself, that was a lot more impressive than you had expected. You wanted to scream at how much you hated him: now, you had even more to surpass regarding that stuck up blue demon.

During all your life, you never wanted so bad to stab someone.

“A simple human like you wouldn’t be able to do this not even with years of training.” Vergil fixed the collar of his coat while walking the path towards the shocked and infuriated Hell Puppeteer.

“I don’t need to rely on demonic tricks to be my enemies’ demise.” Your comeback was as quick as his sharp words. “Or I shouldn’t have been able to draw your blood earlier, demon.”

“You did it out of sheer luck, human.” Even though he wanted to throw a murderous glare towards you, Vergil’s silver eyes kept fixed on the Hell Puppeteer. The creature never had its whole army decimated so quickly – it had never been so weak before; and that made it absolutely fuming. “Hadn’t this thing crawled out from its confinement, you would’ve known what real demonic power looks like.”

“Interestingly enough, I am the one with apparent access to the Abyss, not the real demonic power here.”

This time, Vergil couldn’t refrain from stopping right where he was and stare at you – his cold eyes mimicking glaciers, while you held them with pride on your own stare. The Hell Puppeteer didn’t seem to be as entertaining – and important – as winning a stare contest against that stuck up creature.

That was a thought shared between you both.

In the shadows, though, a set of bright and intelligent eyes watched you and Vergil with delight. Ovid reveled in the fact that child of Sparda had found his match – be it in combat or regarding the mind. You were, indeed, a very interesting human to follow; and something about your fearless and proud attitude towards Vergil was infinitely entertaining. After all, not many were brave enough to banter with the blood of Sparda, let alone make him bleed.

A quiet chuckle rolled in the darkness. In Ovid’s ancient eyes, humans were absolutely fascinating and ever-changing creatures that were always in motion, never stopping – so much more exciting than demons.

The Hell Puppeteer didn’t find you fascinating, though. Vergil would chastise you in order to at least try to win that little battle of wits of yours, but the demon wouldn’t just watch in shock with the loss of its puppets. Its claws flew towards you, and that made you both get back into battle.

Anyone who watched you wouldn’t say it was a fight – at least, that’s what Ovid observed in the shadows. It was fun watching you argue, but there was something of classic in the way you both fought alongside each other. It was a dance: a deadly waltz you and Vergil knew the steps quite well. Sometimes he guided, other times you took the lead. But you crossed each other and coordinated attacks in such a graceful and natural manner, it looked like a ballet of death – your hearts in synch, choreographing the steps for your enemy’s demise.

“The hands!” Vergil growled after an attack that made the Puppeteer slightly flinch. “Break the seal, break the power!”

You turned your eyes to the demon’s claws and immediately understood what Vergil meant: it had red glowing bracelets across its wrists, embellished with scriptures of an old language you couldn’t read. But that rule was always clear: whenever a seal was present in the body or around a demon, you had to break it in order to kill or subdue it. That was actually one of the first things ever mentioned on the Codex Daemonica.

Apparently, he did knew it by heart, just like you.

“I’ll get the one on the left! You get the one on the right!”

Vergil would have argued so he wouldn’t really be following a human’s orders, but that was already what he had thought to himself – you just mentioned it faster than him. Of course, you were fighting for your lives, and he wouldn’t be petty to the point of stopping everything to argue about that – but his mind would make sure to keep it noted for future encounters.

During the fight, though, Vergil did notice your body was starting to get tired – you were human, after all. And, even if he was focusing on killing the demon and going back to arguing with you, Vergil did have a sense of honor that you were doing that together. He wouldn’t let you notice, of course, but his next attack was designed so that the Hell Puppeteer would need to lean its left hand on the floor – making things a lot easier for you.

In the distance, Ovid was amused by the spectacle of a human and a demon working together. The blue son of Sparda wasn’t known for kindness, let alone being a team-player – but there he was, in his own way, helping the little human fighting alongside him. Vergil did have a demonic part in his soul, yet, somehow, he was helping this human fight off a creature. Was it for power? For pride? Or something else? It didn’t matter in the end: as tempting as it was to also have the son of Sparda as a study subject, his fixation on his demonic power would be an outlier in their grand experiment results. What a shame, really – it seemed as if, maybe, later in his life, Vergil would come to understand the mixed heritage he was blessed with.

For the moment being, though, Ovid would only note those changes and continue just observing.

The Yamato easily sliced through the seal on the right hand of the Puppeteer, raised in the air as it shrieked and tried to protect its own power – to no avail. Your silver sword found the seal on the left hand, needing a couple of hits to break the seal. Yes, you were tired, and using all your strength to have that fight meet its end. But, as Vergil knew too well, you wouldn’t give up.

The Hell Puppeteer let out a scream you almost had to cover your ears – even Vergil furrowed his brows and felt the sting inside his eardrums. The demon recoiled in a manner that was almost pitiful, but you both knew better and, with resolute steps, side by side, you and Vergil approached the creature now tossed on the ground.

With a swift last blow, you buried your silver sword in its chest while Vergil used the Yamato on its gleaming red mouth. With one last shriek, the Puppeteer burned to ashes until there was nothing left but you two – you with a ragged breath, leaning on your sword, and Vergil somberly quiet.

After a few seconds catching your breaths, though, your eyes met once again.

And you knew.

Vergil tried to run. The Abyss was still open and his chance was finally at his grasp – he could almost feel it touching his fingertips.

But you had made a promise: nothing was to come out and nothing was to go in.

With that in mind, you followed him – holding Vergil by his coat, you pulled him back, trying to hit him with your sword. His answer was swift, and, in the blink of an eye, your silver sword clashed with the Yamato.

The sheer strength of it made your swords fly away from your hands, dancing in the air towards opposite sides.

What a nuisance. That’s what you were in Vergil’s eyes. An incredible, annoying, petty human nuisance. Never in his life he had lost the grip of the Yamato, but there he was. His anger towards you increased as the seconds went by.

And it only became worse when Vergil found himself tossed on the floor, you on top of him, punching his face with your tired – but strong – human hands. His eyes lit with anger; his teeth increasingly sharper. Holding both of your wrists, Vergil tossed you away from him, ready to end you.

Even after everything you did together, he still underestimated your power and your human resilience. You got up faster than he expected – but Vergil still punched you. With wobbly steps, you couldn’t refrain from losing your balance – and he took the opportunity to hit you one more time.

His nails now were as sharp as claws. Turning back to him after protecting the right side of your cheek, Vergil finally saw: he had managed to draw blood. The cut on your cheek bled just like his – and you were finally even for that day.

“I won’t let you go any further.” You managed to mumble while wiping the blood from your face, raising your head to keep a little bit of your pride. You knew you had cut him before, but the fact that he did the same… It made your blood boil.

“You can barely stand…” Vergil answered in the same tone, beginning to feel the tiredness in his bones. He was demonic indeed, and his blood caried a heritage stronger than many others… But Vergil could only take so much. He also needed to rest after a long day – and he was beginning to feel that. “Don’t make me hurt you even more.”

“Don’t make me fatally wound you, stuck up demon.”

Both of you growled, reading your attack positions. Your swords were far away, but it was quite clear you could – and would – get on a fistfight if necessary. With those thoughts, you ran towards Vergil, ready to kick him far away from the Abyss – but, as expected, he too knew martial arts and managed to deflect and try a counterattack.

And Vergil’s demonic side couldn’t hold back a growl of utter annoyance when you deflected expertly and managed to scrape his face with a well-placed punch. In all honesty, he wanted to tie you up on a light post and enter the Abyss at peace so there would be no possibility whatsoever that you would follow him and continue being so annoying.

As the fight went on, that idea became increasingly tempting.

You managed to place a strong kick right on Vergil’s abdomen, making him stumble away from you for a few seconds. Neither of you realized how close you were to the edge of the Abyss; your eyes trained on each other, careful and attentive of whatever move you would make.

Until you heard a voice.

It was a cry, really. Silent. Lonely. Muffled. Buried deep inside the darkness.

Vergil frowned as he saw how much your expression changed – instead of anger and focus, he found a pair of vulnerable wide eyes, almost as if you had seen a ghost.

“Vergil…?”

And your expression was suddenly mirrored on his own face. It was his mother. It was Eva again. Calling him – far away, a ghost of a memory, but still… There. Just like it happened years prior, when he heard her in the Abyss.

You took your eyes away from each other – and you both fell into darkness.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped carefully, not knowing where you were getting yourself into. You didn’t understand what was happening – had you entered the Abyss? Was it reaching out to you? Who was crying…?

The floor was wet. You furrowed your eyebrows. Why were you barefoot? You were wearing your boots before… Weren’t you…?

A dim light could barely light the scene ahead. A frail shape – weak, bony, with their skin looking like it lacked blood underneath – kneeled on the floor, face covered by bloody hands, their back filled with several wounds: some fresh, some still healing.

Shards of a crystal heart were tossed on the floor, covered in blood: they tried desperately to put it back into place, but it kept breaking, over, and over, and over again… The wounds kept opening, the blood kept flowing. They couldn’t get up: they tried, but every time there was progress, they would break once more. Their strength was running out.

Your feet froze and you couldn’t move. That frail creature, that broken heart, that blood… It was you. And you didn’t want to see that. You didn’t want to acknowledge that beaten down creature – the one you would always find whenever you looked in the mirror.

You had broken all your mirrors before. You didn’t want to be forced to look at that.

But other people walked around. People you knew. People who left. They would look at that broken human and ignore – forget it existed.

In the end, you were always on your own.

You had to get out. You didn’t know where you were, but you had to get out.

Vergil didn’t have to walk too far to find himself in the dark – not able to see even his own hands in front of him. Everything he heard was his mother’s voice quietly crying, calling for him. Begging for his help.

“Is that you, my son…? Can you help me…?”

“Yes. I am coming for you.” He muttered under his breath, not knowing if she could hear him or not.

“But… Why did you leave me…?”

As soon as he heard that voice, Vergil’s whole body froze – his eyes as wide as the silver moon. He knew who said that. He heard that before.

Slowly turning around, Vergil felt the scorching heat gradually hitting his face. The amber inferno of a starless night, coming back again to haunt him.

“Why… Why did you leave me, mom…?” And Vergil found himself. Tossed on the grass of that godforsaken graveyard, blood on his mouth, his hands, his whole body; his life slowly slipping away from his soul. “Don’t… Don’t you love me too…? Am I… A bad son…?”

Fucking hell. He was a child. He was only a child. Vergil stared at himself trying to claw away from the demons who cackled at his dying state, dragging his almost dead body as far as he could. His eyes were red, raining with tears, his nails broken and stained with dirt. His hands… They were so tiny compared to how big they were right now. The Yamato was almost as big as him – and now, it could look like a toy in Vergil’s hands.

He was so small. So… Vulnerable.

“Am I not… Worth saving… Mom…?”

Vergil couldn’t see that anymore. He couldn’t help. He couldn’t grab his own hand and slay those demons – that was not how it happened. He died that day, and his demonic heritage saved him. The demon had awakened, and he managed to save himself.

No one came. No one appeared. He wasn’t loved, he wasn’t protected, and he would have to save himself in other to survive. That was it.

“Please… Don’t leave.”

Vergil couldn’t make out who said those words: if it was his younger self or his mother. But one thing was sure – he had to get out. He couldn’t stay. Or he wouldn’t survive.

The floor trembled once more under both of your feet. You lost your balance and fell to the floor while Vergil kneeled in order to remain anchored somehow.

Light and color gradually came back to your worlds – and, as you found yourselves lit up by the moon once again, you realized you were still close to the edge of the Abyss; still beside each other, even if far apart.

When you met his eyes, for the first time, you found a hint of vulnerability. Those silver moons stared at you with the same distress you looked at him. None of you knew what to do – after all, you were in the middle of a fight. Should you attack? Should you run? Should you… Search for solace in each other…?

Before any of those thoughts could be answered, the floor trembled once again, making nearby buildings collapse. You rolled even farther apart, and your path to each other was blocked by heavy pieces of concrete.

The Abyss was closed once again.

To be continued...

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guarddogdyke · 7 months

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alright, i need to scream for a minute. this is like 25% a mutual aid post and 75% i am going through it and need to vent my ungodly rage at corporate bureaucracy

so, for context, i have two supervisors, i’ll call them supervisor a and supervisor m. supervisor m is a delight to work with, she was able to help me get a good placement, albeit not one with an incredible pay rate, she always picks up calls, and is just generally polite to work with. supervisor a, on the other hand, complete opposite. just a massive pain in the ass. completely and totally insufferable. always sounds like he’s mad that i, a lowly employee, have the audacity to ask him for something like a site placement or, god forbid, the money i’m owed. the only “placement” he gave me was the one that decided that they didn’t fucking want me literally the day of training, and in order to contact him, i had to call several times a day for a week and a half just to get him to pick up. the one time he did actually pick up, he was on the road and told me he’d call me back in half an hour. didn’t hear from him for over a week.

during the failed placement supervisor a gave me, the site manager promised me wages for the time i had spent on site. that was a few weeks ago, and i still haven’t seen a cent of it. i talked to supervisor m about it, but unfortunately, supervisor m doesn’t have any sway over payroll. that’s entire supervisor a’s department. try to contact him repeatedly, doesn’t even pick up. i was on a call with supervisor m a few days ago, and along with some other questions, i asked her if she could tell supervisor a to please give me a call, which she says okay to. several days go by, and i get a call from him yesterday afternoon. i think, hey, he’s finally calling me to help resolve that payroll issue!

nope. he’s calling me to tell me that, due to having been inactive for over a month (i was out of state for a few months bc i was home from university, and unlike the state my university’s in, my home state requires a license to operate), my previous manager had put a temporary termination on me as an employee; basically, though i wasn’t fired, i was technically no longer an employee. what this means is that i need updated fingerprinting and background check paperwork. essentially, even though i had my first weekend last weekend, i can’t work this weekend, or until he’s able to actually get that in order, and, given how fucking great he is at being prompt, god only knows when that’s happening. i asked him to send me the info for the location, still hasn’t done that so i get to hound him again today. cool.

while i’m on the call, i bring up the payroll discrepancy. he fucking plays dumb with me, acts confused as to what i’m talking about. i tell him that the site manager at the location he’d sent me to had promised me wages for the five and a half hours i’d been there for training. i had to remind him in no uncertain terms that yes, i had been on site working for several hours, which i hadn’t seen a cent of payment for. here i am, a broke college student, arguing for my pay with a supervisor of a several billion dollar multi-national. it’s not even a hundred dollars i’m trying to get here, pennies in his book, but for me, it’s half a monthly car payment. it’s food. it’s what i need to fucking scrape by. eventually after several minutes, he just says he’ll get me the pay for it, and then hangs up.

i had to fight for several WEEKS to get a payment of less than $100.

i’m so fucking tired.

sorry for the long post. i’d love to go back to posting fun horny shit once i’m a little less keyed up.

as always, vnmo is $unfoundobjects, and anything helps. if you’ve read this far, thank you for putting up with my rant.

#i am so tired #work rant #fuck corporate #middle management can eat my entire taint #mutual aid #please help #lgbt mutual aid #lesbian mutual aid #trans mutual aid #trans crowdfund #please reblog #anything helps #lgbt crowdfund

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sapphic-agent · 3 months

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You know, Santana wasn't wrong when she called Finn a hypocrite. It's also one of the reasons I hate his character. But how many instances of him being a hypocrite are there? Let's get into it.

2x09 (the very episode Santana called him out on it):

"I knew you were a lot of things, Rachel, and I loved you because and in spite of all of them, but... I never thought you were mean."

This is when Rachel confessed that she made out with Puck to get back at him. Mind you, this is after she lied to a younger foreign exchange student and tricked her to going to a crack house. And... that's not mean to you, Finn? It was surely vindictive and borderline cruel. Not to mention the comments she's thrown around that could definitely constitute as mean. Why is Rachel only mean when it pertains to how she hurt him specifically?

2x02:

"Well, Santana has a point. Just trying to be honest."

2x06:

"Hey, ever notice that when the Beiste gets all fired up, her underpants go right up her butt?"

So, you know how in season 3 where they (both the show and the fans) attempt to justify Finn outing Santana by pointing out that she body-shamed/bullied him. Well, surely, Finn didn't also body-shame/make fun of Coach Bieste in season 2. Which, yes Sam, Mike, and Tina were also guilty, Finn was the one who started it. And he didn't apologize because he was wrong, he apologized because Bieste was going to quit and "the football team was finally doing well." There's also the instance where Finn laughs at one of Santana's insults towards Rachel, then agrees with her.

Again, he was fine with Santana's bullying until the minute it was directed towards him.

2x09 (again):

"Look, I'm all for pumping up the team, making everyone feel special, but that's for practice. You don't take the star quarterback out before the big game."

Oh, but what was that in season 1? Where Finn admits he wasn't putting in as much effort into Glee because Jesse was being given the spotlight. Or in season 3 when he was openly jealous of and threatened by Blaine's talent. Also, earlier in season 2 when he prayed to be put in the game instead of Sam who was the better player. He was fine with others being pushed aside when he was the favorite, but God forbid it happen to him.

(Also, who was the one who threw Nationals with that kiss? It certainly wasn't Sam or Quinn or Santana)

2x01:

"...you got to admit the truth. You didn't do this because you love Glee Club. You did it because you love yourself more."

I'm not going to lie and say that Finn's wrong here. However, it's only a few episodes later in 2x04 that he's doing almost the exact same thing. Strong-arming Kurt into not dueting with Sam under the pretense that it's for the good of Sam and the club, when it's actually because he's still uncomfortable with Kurt being gay and projecting that onto Sam. Screw what Sam and Kurt want, screw that Quinn didn't even want to duet with or date Sam, it's all about what Finn (and Rachel) wants.

1x13

"No! They're both lying to me!"

Remember how (understandably) hurt and angry Finn was when he found out that Puck was the father? Remember how he was angry at Puck and refused to speak to him for months? Remember how their friendship was never the same after that?

So then why- after perpetuating the guise of being his friend and looking out for him- did he push Quinn into cheating on Sam with him? True, there was no pregnancy or baby involved, but that was still shitty. And unlike Puck, Finn faced almost no repercussion from Sam after that (even when he was being accused of seeing Quinn behind Finn's back later, he never threw that back in Finn's face).

3x19:

"Make you stand up and show everybody how much of a crazy liar you are? Yeah."

Fun fact, Finn lied and said he was disabled to get a job at a restaurant in season 1. So it's actually interesting how mad he is that Quinn was "faking" being in a wheelchair (she wasn't faking, she was exaggerating, but she still couldn't walk well after her accident).

2x08:

"Rachel, I'm sorry. I want to, but I can't."

Also fun fact, Finn quit the club and condemned Rachel in season 1 because she was protecting her (and the club's) reputation by hiring a show director that harped on them for their flaws. It's funny how when it came to protecting Kurt who was being continuously harassed and assaulted, Finn cared more about saving his reputation.

3x04:

"Santana, stay out of this."

I need two hands to count the number of times Finn's inserted himself into business that isn't his. Hell, this very episode he was eavesdropping on Mercedes trying to convince Santana to join the Troubletones. He reported Rachel to Schue when she was seeing Jesse, chimed into the conversation Mercedes was having with Schue, tried to control Sam's entire social life, etc. And, he was trying to push Brittany into making a decision because he didn't like the choice she had already made in this very moment. What Brittany does is none of Finn's business.

3x04:

"Yeah. All the guys in Glee Club call me that. And you're the leader, so that makes you the worst of them all."

It's interesting that Brittany pointing this out doesn't ignite the same rage from the fandom as Santana's fat shaming. The guys in the Glee Club- including Finn, who definitely shouldn't be one to talk- have been collectively calling Brittany an idiot for years at this point. How is that any better than Santana calling Finn fat? Why is only she a bully? Why are Finn's feelings the only ones that matter?

And before anyone says "well it's true," so? That means Santana calling Finn fat is also justified because it's true, right? Brittany doesn't deserve to be mocked repeatedly just because she isn't as smart at the people around her. That's ableism.

2x05:

"Guys whisper behind our backs about how we girls look every day. They objectify us all the time."

Speaking of the fat-shaming, why don't we rewind to why Santana started it in the first place. The Glee guys- including Finn- are (again) just as culpable of talking about the girls' bodies. Finn especially has done this consistently throughout the show (most of which being centered around Rachel, y'know, his girlfriend). It's so interesting that no one ever brings this up. Almost like it's acceptable for men, but the moment women cross that line, it's intolerable.

Finn is a hypocrite who's fine with allowing and participating in rotten behavior until the very moment he's on the receiving end. No, I won't be taking criticism. Argue with the wall.

#anti finn hudson #lol glee #finn hudson is a hypocrite #and so are his stans #argue with the wall #santana lopez #brittany pierce #quinn fabray #unholy trinity

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vixxelle · 6 months

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OUYGHSH the amount of GASLIGHTING and ANGST Romeo can afflict on Petra is giving me the shivers me timbers

Like Romeo has seen every aspect of Petra’s life up till the Sunshine Institute, he knows all of her trauma and insecurities, what makes her tick.

He uses her growing guilt of Reuben, The Witherstorm, and her mother to drill the idea that she HAS to be his champion (AKA become his vessel) in order to ‘repent’ for ‘all the crap she put others through’.

Oh I can see it know:

Y’know what Petra, fine, go ahead and wander off to Jeb knows what to frolic about… I’m not really surprised, more like disappointed… I thought that opening my arms to you and giving you and your friends shelter and guidance would make you more thankful for what people do for you, hell, I even made you my CHAMPION and gave you all the love and praise - at least more than you deserve - and yet you repay me by being an ungrateful brat.

Oh I knew I should’ve chosen Jessica… Sure, you were the won that won my little games, but unlike you Jessica never put anyone in danger or fucked anyone’s life up. Jessica never acted entitled to anyone’s time, wander off like a stray ocelot. Why, she’s an angel compared to you! You used to be so eager and sweet, such great Champion material… But once I give you a task that was a little bit harder and messy than the usual, you just crumble up like paper and hobble about like a goddamn zombie. Oh heaven forbid you do some actual champion work rather than strutting around like some goddamn aristocrat.

All your life, you’ve been meandering around leeching off of anyone who gave a small speck of a shit about you. You go on all of these wacky hijinks instead of doing your goddamn job and then throw a tantrum when your friends have other responsibilities.

And when someone like me, THE ROMEO comes to you and offers you power and a way to repent by helping me create a better world, you take it for granted and act like a thorn in my side!

Stella’s more obedient than you, and she’s a bumbling buffoon!

In fact, Stella’s actually quite smarter than you!

At least she doesn’t put her friends in danger, at least she wasn’t as much of a brat that her own mother abandoned her, at least she didn’t abandon her friend over some petty bullshit, or gave some weird shaggy old man a fucking key to his plot of mass destruction for some measly diamonds, or was a burden to her entire friends during their quest to undo the damage she inadvertently caused, and got one of her closest friend’s pet killed.

Unlike you, Petra, Stella actually has a purpose in this world. Stella actually cares about doing her fucking job. And Stella wouldn’t jump into a pit of Cave Spiders to prove that she’s so tough.

Just admit it, Petra, you know goddamn well you are responsible for everything that happened to you and others. I know how badly you want to undo the damage you caused, and here you are! You have the opportunity to repent at your disposal!

…

…My dear, the only reason I’m hard on you is because I want to mold you into a better person! This position is giving you the position you wanted all your life! The hero who gets showered with praise, the hero who everyone looks up to, the hero who helps everyone! I’m willing to give you this if you just follow my orders and care for the Sunshine Institute…

You want Jessica and Radar to be safe, right? You want to make your dads proud, right? You wanna go back home, to Beacon Town? Don’t you? You wanna see all of your friends again, right?

You do, right?

…

Right?

…Yes, Romeo

Good. Now get out of my sight and guard the patients. And stop wasting my breath and time…

#raye rambles #minecraft story mode rewrite #minecraft story mode au #minecraft story mode #mcsm au #mcsm romeo #mcsm rewrite #mcsm petra

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tutuandscoot · 7 months

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Ice Dance Falls, Fails and Flubs

Part 1

1. “Stationary Lift BASE?! “😱🫠

Classic HD fuck up 1.0

By now y’all know my distain for HD, not that I have any love lost for Bock either.. or WeaPo.. or gilorier.. so basically this is me missing VM at 4CC and HOLLERING at the cocky ness HD display for a rushed, messy, careless program with a travelling stationary lift guys come on what are you doing sitting there pep-rallying for +5’s.. you look like idiots. Btw. who tf is this lady on the right ↗️??

Also feat. Evan ‘employee of the month at Taco Bell’ Bates

2. Belbin/Agosto blow it in the Compulsory Dance

They came to these world champs in 2008 expected to win, with the Russians D/S out with injury. But down Tanith goes on a twizzle in the CD.. the point of CD’s is that you are in hold basically the whole time therefore it’s extremely unlikely to fall bc your partner holds you. This put them 6th after the CD, 5th in the OD, rising to 4th after the FD.. they would never win a worlds or Olympics despite being an incredible team* (for the time.. )

3. FP/M- Torino addition

Maybe the funniest thing ever in Ice dance. This happened after at least 3 teams had already had serious falls (including Marie and Patch which I won’t be talking about bc of the seriousness of it- that was not funny) this on the other hand is HILARIOUS. Firstly: the costumes. WHAT? WHY? Maritzio looking like a pimp. Even before the fall this performance reminds me of your cringe aunt and uncle getting up to dance at a wedding. They had not competed since SLC 2002.. we won’t discuss that bc How and WHY- what sport was ID in 2002 where this team wins a medal over Bourne & Kraatz?????

Then.. the fall.. yes BESP uncles.. it was the too much outside edge that did it, that’s where the problems started, never mind mags’ shithouse skating skills.

My favourite part is when she just *reverse Homer Simpson’s out of a hedge* towards him and he does that *nod* as if to say “hey that was pretty damn good” seriously, what a flop, even in the K&c it continues to be hilarious him just man spreading looking at the scores while she looks like she’s gonna kill herself (and him), he’s looking as if ‘yeah that’s not bad’ well you wouldn’t know bro there’s been a new system introduced since you seemingly last stepped on an ice rink.

Just omg.. iconic. all I can think about is god forbid this ever happened to vm and the polar opposite their reaction would be (except S never dropped T and S actually had skating skills)

4. The piece of shit that is Didier Gailhauget

(Thankyou to @iluvausten for finding this for me)

I don’t need to translate this right y’all get it..

This tweet and subsequent result is the reason the acronym LMFAO was invented. Guess the Russian mob didn’t feel like helping out on this one sorry boo 🥲

(And/Or the bby angels were just too damn good)

5. Bourne/Kraatz 2002

This is kinda a sad one..

But what I love is the contrast between B/K reaction and FP/M..

No blame, no hate, no making a scene.

They were in 4th place going into the FD with a good chance of capturing bronze, but fell in the last 5 seconds.

It was so unfortunate but you know what: you skate to MJ you should expect karma..

They finished 4th- same as they had in 1998- a fixed event

6. Classic HD fuck up 2.0, Worlds 2017

I don’t want to talk about this to point where I’m gonna get hate for it and I also don’t want to be that person who says ‘I don’t talk bout what I don’t know’ and then talk about what I don’t know but since this post has a bit of a ‘blunt and direct humour about it’, why do I get the feeling that the whole ‘we don’t have faith in ourselves’ thing was a bit of an act with these two and training with the goats gave them this false sense that they were better than they were and took that cocky confidence too far to the point where (he especially) couldn’t stay on his damn feet?? The whole ‘Gabrois podium sweep’ thing they were going for at these worlds and olys gives me side eye..

Ok. That’s part 1, part 2 coming soon

Reminder this is all in good humour, every team that competes at this level is highly skilled in some respect and then others are just a$$holes🥰

#ice dance fails. falls and flubs part 1

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luciehercndale · 7 months

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The Element of Surprise - Matthtober 2023

Hi all! A little late, but here's my entry fic for @matthtober-2023 💙 It is Matthew's POV of the Thomastair fic where they have to dogsit Oscar. We see where Matthew went and who he met in Paris and there's a bit of Thomastair and Matthew and Alastair banter in this fic.

“There you are. I was worried you’d forgotten,” Matthew chirped at the two people outside his apartment door, not bothering to let them in. “I’m quite late for the train,” he added. “I thought I said nine, and it’s past nine –”

“You said half past nine, Fairchild,” Alastair argued. “Well, according to my clock, it is ten minutes after nine. We are on time.”

Matthew shrugged nonchalantly and grabbed his luggage with one hand and his dog Oscar with the other. “If you say so.”

“I’m not saying so, the clock is saying so,” Alastair said. “And you said so in your three fire messages. Too bad I’ve thrown them into the fire, or I would’ve showed you the evidence.”

“I didn’t know you paid attention while I talked.”

Alastair raised his eyebrows and sighed. He was about to reply to Matthew, but Thomas interjected. “Come on, you’ll lose the train if you keep arguing about the time,” he patted Matthew’s shoulder, and he finally went out of his apartment, passing in between his friends with his dog on a leather leash.

Thomas and Alastair looked at each other, and followed him outside. The air was crisp, the street still bore the signs of the storm that had bothered the city the night before. Matthew stopped in front of a hansom cab and told the driver to wait, and turned to his dog.

“Oscar. Your father is going to Paris for a few days,” he cooed. “Unfortunately, I can’t take you with me, because Angel forbid dogs can’t attend fashion shows.” Alastair grumbled in the background, said something like “I thought you were late,” but Matthew ignored him. “So I have to leave you with these handsome chaps. You know them both. There is Thomas, who is your friend already. And there’s Alastair,” he took a pause, “who might be your friend. Do not ruin his carpets if you don’t like him, but you can totally eat his ties –”

“Matthew,” Alastair said gravely. “Give me the dog and leave.”

Matthew smiled at his dog and then he turned to his friends. “See, Oscar? Alastair is already brimming with excitement to take you out and clean after you do your business.”

Alastair rolled his eyes as Matthew finally passed the leash to him. Oscar observed Alastair and smelled his pants, then turned to his owner when he greeted them one last time and got into the cab.

Matthew didn’t like to leave Oscar, but he knew that at least the dog would stay with people he trusted. Yes, even Carstairs. To an outsider they may look like a cat and a dog not getting along, but it was just a farce. He knew Oscar would have fun.

The train to Paris was delayed, and Matthew found himself in the city of lights a few hours later than planned. He couldn’t attend the first salon show he had booked because of this, but never mind. There was more than one show. He couldn’t complain to anyone, though, because this city was always in a rush, and people seemed annoyed by small talk. Time was money.

Time was precious indeed, and Matthew had to change his suit as soon as he entered his lavish room at the hotel where he was staying, because he didn’t want to smell like the train. He eventually made it to the Palace of Versailles where the second event was going to happen. This one, unlike the others, featured a fashion show with models. It was a smart way to let the customers see all the looks and then see in detail those that caught their eye.

Matthew walked briskly to his front seat with a brochure in hand, but instead of reading the program, he used it to fan himself.

“Quite different from London, right?”

In the time Matthew turned his blonde waves toward the voice who had just spoken, he realized to whom it belonged. “Must be the position,” he offered the woman a pleased grin. “We are more South after all. Maybe the perturbation that worried our country last night will head here next.”

“It would be hilarious if it did,” she said, exchanging smiles. “One of the shows I have to attend is in an Italian garden. Imagine the rain falling suddenly and drenching the poor posh people who came from everywhere just to buy clothes.”

“I would like to see that,” Matthew laughed softly. “I never thought we would be meeting here.”

“Esme, the name is Esme,” she blurted cheerfully. “I did. I know you like fashion.”

Matthew nodded. “Yes, I do remember you, Esme,” he replied. “We often frequent the same circles, you see. And now even fashion circles. Out of my friends, only Anna likes fashion. Ah, and probably Alastair,” he sighed. “But they are so boring when it comes to clothes. They do not go out of their black comfort zone.”

Esme smiled again, and she blushed. “I never thought you paid attention to me,” she mumbled, moving her gaze to the guests who were searching for a seat. “I wouldn’t consider myself part of a fashion circle, not at all.”

“Then are you here out of curiosity? Paris is one of the pillars of women’s fashion, after all.”

“I’m here because of my mother,” she explained. “You see, this seat was hers. She had another event she had to attend, but didn’t want to waste the opportunity to take a peek into the new trends.”

“Oh, so she sent you in her stead. Clever.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “She also told me to order the gowns I think are good for her, but I…”

“I remember your mother,” Matthew said. “I could help you, if you want? And maybe suggest something you can order for yourself.”

Esme’s smile widened, and the pink on her cheeks deepened. “Yes, I would love that.”

Matthew exchanged the grin, and the conversation quieted because the orchestra had just started playing. The show was about to begin.

A few days later, Matthew was exhausted even if he didn’t do much aside from examining and choosing new suits and ties and shoes to add to his wardrobe. Picking out fashion items was tiring, but it was fun, especially when you weren’t alone.

He ended up meeting Esme Hardcastle at every other show he had booked, and the two resorted to spending time together because they both came by themselves. Matthew didn’t mind being alone, because he could always find company if he desired. But being with someone he knew, even if barely, was better. Somehow, it made him more comfortable when he was traveling. It was like having a piece of your home country with yourself.

He had to admit, Esme was a cheerful and bright woman. She liked to talk about different topics, but she enjoyed it when people inquired about her family tree project.

“How should I write you on the family tree?” she had asked him.

“Just write my name and surname? I’m too young to think about marriage,” he chuckled.

“I never mentioned marriage.”

“No, but you told me you asked people about their plans. Whether they will get married soon, whether they have kids,” he had shrugged. “I don’t plan on either of those things,” he smiled. “At least for the time being.”

“You’re a dog dad,” she nodded and scribbled something on her notebook. “Noted.”

Matthew thought Esme was disappointed, but he never had time to ask her because the day after he went back to London. He was sure they would have chances to speak again.

As he thought about what he did with Esme during those days, he decided to get Oscar from Cornwall Gardens on the way back from the station. For some reason, her last words to him stuck. She had called him dog dad, and he knew it was true. He sent a fire message to Thomas to make sure they were home, so he could embrace his dog.

“I thought you were in Paris,” Thomas answered the door. “I mean, I thought you would be back tomorrow morning.”

“They canceled a show due to the bad weather,” he explained, letting himself in. “How did it go? Was Oscar good?”

“I believe you’ll have to see for yourself,” Thomas said.

“What? Did he break a vase? Did he tear one of Alastair’s shirts apart?”

Thomas led him to the living room. “Even better,” he lowered his voice as he opened the door.

Matthew frowned, wondering what Oscar could’ve done, until he saw the scene. Oscar was perched on the sofa, sleeping quietly. This wouldn’t have been weird at all, but what made Matthew gasp in surprise was on who Oscar was leaning. His head was on Alastair’s leg, and he was resting as well, one hand on the dog’s back. But he wasn’t jealous, just amused.

“What in the world,” he muttered. “Oscar!” he called, and the dog instantly raised his head and left the sofa to come to him, flapping his tail happily. “Yes, yes, I missed you too,” he stroked his fur.

“You are early,” Alastair grunted from the sofa, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“I believe in the element of surprise,” Matthew declared. “And perhaps you do too.”

“Well, I don’t, but what can I do?” he scoffed, but he was grinning. “Is it really shocking that Oscar likes me?”

Matthew shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I might leave Oscar here more often.”

“He’s welcome to sleep on my leg whenever he wants,” Alastair admitted, and Oscar barked. “I do think he agrees.”

“Did you meet someone interesting in France?” Thomas wondered, and Matthew’s mind went back to Esme.

“You wouldn’t believe…” he began, and he told them about his Parisian experience. He would send a fire message to Esme, at least to see if she returned home safely. But not today, tomorrow. Today he would be a dog dad and spend the remaining time of the day with Oscar.

This story is called "element of surprise" because Matthew is surprised of finding Esme in Paris and getting along with her but at the same time, he's amused that Oscar likes Alastair so much. I hope you can tell that Matthew and Alastair are joking, they like to banter like that. lol.

Also: fashion shows/weeks in Paris as we know them weren't a thing until the 1970's, but bear with me. I do believe there might have been fashion expositions where rich people like Matthew would go check the new trends

#tsc #tsc fan fiction #matthtober 2023 #matthew fairchild #tlh #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold #the shadowhunter chronicles #esme hardcastle #tweety.writes

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rahadaddy · 2 months

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Session 20 Recap

We had Session 20 this weekend! It was a wild ride because it’s one of those games where political intrigue dominated the session and I learned just how deep the conspiracy well runs within some of my players.

The warlock had a confrontation with Father Lucian, her adoptive father, first thing in the morning, about her hasty engagement to Doru Donavich. Lucian confronted her about whether or not Doru is a vampire and received an honest answer, much to his dismay. He tried to forbid the marriage, but Theo managed to convince him that she has the situation well in hand. Ireena, Ismark, Yeska, and the church staff joined for breakfast and preparations.

Alistor, our cleric, awoke alone in the Blue Water Inn. He tried to rouse the ranger, Tam, but Tam’s player was absent, so Tam was ruled too hungover to join in. Alistor then went downstairs and learned of the first stirrings that all is not well with the Martikovs’ wine supply. He spoke briefly with Nikolai Wachter about the masquerade plans to restore Stella’s broken mind and the two of them (separately, but not that far behind each other) arrived at church late. Theo realized that Nikolai is trying to be seen at church, not unlike the way her uncle, Vargas, Tries To Be Seen, but is also very much trying to fill his late father’s shoes. He spoke with Theo briefly and mentioned that his cousin, Lavinia, would be back in town for the masquerade and he hoped his mother had the good sense to match her with his Bachelor Uncle, Rafael Buckvhold. Theo and Alistor concluded that it would be a lavender marriage and, you know? Good for them.

The party then ventured to the clothiers’ for masquerade costumes. I told the party they have one week to surprise me with what they’re going to wear. I’m excited! Then, they went to Vallakovich Manor to peruse the baron’s library. On the way, Izek Strazni revealed that he has shifted his Intense And Possibly Violent Romantic Longing from Theo to Ireena, based on things that have happened since the last festival. No one liked this information. The party arrived to the manor. They agreed to lunch with Lydia after they did their researchl. They caught Vargas practicing his speech for the Festival and they began researching the Teray family tree on behalf of one of the revenants. The family tree showed interconnection among the nobility of several of the towns, including Vallaki and Barovia Village and the party learned that Sir Robern Teray’s last living (“living”) descendant is either Doru Donavich, Thorn and Rose Durst, or a woman named Anastrasya Karelova who appears to be a clerical error without a death date. They plan to go to Barovia Village at some point to deliver the Teray family crest to Doru. They then had lunch with Lydia, which I thought revealed more than it did. Oops. They also checked on Victor and tried to dissuade him from using his teleportation circle to try to find Ez D’Avenir again. While they were upstairs, Theo and Ismark clocked a voice in Lydia’s private chambers and Theo saw the outline of a woman in the mirror fading away. Vargas invited Ismark and Alistor back to dinner to discuss politics because the party successfully convinced Vargas that they know about political organization and, yes, Ismark is still definitely the burgomaster of Barovia Village. Theo and Ireena decided to get more information out of the Wachter boys about Fiona’s book club. During preparations to speak with the baron, Alistor caught Ismark checking him out and Ireena made fun. The group split.

Ismark and Alistor went to the manor and went on the weirdest double date with Vargas and Lydia… and Izek who kept asking if Ireena is single. Through some really good rolls, Alistor persuaded Vargas to consider building a council so he can focus on the truly important things in rulership (“Like festivals!”). Ismark clocked that Lydia was upset and scheming and he told Alistor of his fears as they walked back to the inn.

Meanwhile, as Ireena served as a decoy for the very drunk Karl Wachter, Theo challenged Nikolai to a vodka-drinking contest and asked him about the book club. Nikolai drunkenly revealed that it’s not really a book club, but a place to discuss political and religious dissension and that his mother has introduced (or perhaps reintroduced) worship of The Lady of Shadows, with the belief that Strahd is her prophet. Nikolai expressed some disagreement with this view, stating that worshipping monsters never prevented tragedy from happening, never prevented him from losing Elizaveta (Vallakovich, his fiancee) or his father, never prevented Stella’s curse. He then drunkenly revealed to Theo that he doesn’t think his father died from sickness like everybody says. He said that the night he died, his father had a cold and went to bed early, his mother was out, and while Nikolai had the house to himself, he invited Elizaveta over. They heard a strange noise and Elizaveta ended up leaving. The next day she was gone and his father was dead. It had been mere weeks before their wedding and he’s never recovered from the double loss, which is why he thinks his mother is pitching him to Lavinia. He told Theo the book club will be kind of like a church event, kind of like a town hall, but that “miracles” happen - always for other people and often involving money that answers people’s prayers. Karl then interrupted the conversation, trying to get the girls to dance and Nikolai took his brother home. Alistor and Ismark rejoined Theo and Ireena and decided to walk them back to the church for the night. When they did, one of the PCs asked Lucian if it was ridiculous to think Lydia might be an assassin and Lucian got really quiet and said that he didn’t think it was ridiculous at all.

That’s where we ended the session. The PCs are in the Church, asking Lucian for information about Lydia and possibly getting the reveal of a lifetime. Tune in next time for a “book club” meeting and the impending Moonlight Masquerade, the best festival of the year!

#g: blood countess #curse of strahd #I love political intrigue

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lordhelpme0-0 · 2 years

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IkePri: Leon’s Faction crack meetings

TW: mention of sex offenders, but it’s from a comedy short inspired…dark humor at play here

During a daily meeting on school terrorist attacks…

Leon: We need someone who actually will be brave enough to run in and stop an active terrorist in school.

Yves: why do I have a bad feeling about this.

Leon: I have an idea.

Licht: (-_-)?

Leon: registered sex offenders.

Jin: *chokes on lollipop*

Licht: (0-0)?!

Leon: We round all the registered sex offenders in the local area-

Yves: *stares in complete horror*

Leon: -trust me there’s a lot, I looked it up! *he meant Clavis actually-* 😔✋

Sariel: *regretting giving Leon this task*

Leon: -and we ask them politely-

Yves: *face palming hard*

Leon: -to watch the school. 😃

Jin: *still choking*

Leon: And yes! This happens to be their favorite thing to do! Okay! We DON’T arm them!

Licht: (0—︎0) *concerned af*

Leon: We put a tracking advice- *holds a bell collar stolen from Nokto* -so they stay SAFE distance at all TIMES!

Sariel: Prince Leon-!

Leon: JUST EYES! 😠👉👀

Jin: -HADgh! *chokes again somehow*

Leon: listen! I do not condone ped*philia! ✋😤

Yves: of course we don’t-!

Leon: But you and I both know, unlike half this fucking country-

Jin: *leans over hacking more*

Licht: 😨

Leon: -The ped*phones actually care about the survival of our kids, okay!

Sariel: *rubs head*

Jin: ADHWEEE-! *tears starting up as he try’s not to die*

Leon: So we ask them to watch the school, just eyes!

Yves:

Leon: and Father forbid, there’s a shooting. We tell them, “you RUN! You save the children! You do it for the children!”

Sariel: I-

Leon: and they will!!!

Licht: *blinks with even more confusion*

Leon: Because they love the kids, more than us!

Leon: and yes! If one of them dies, then we need to agree that father forgives. Okay?!

Leon: this about redemption now!

Licht:

Sariel:

Jin: *still hacking even more*

Yves:

Leon: and if they survive! Saving the school, then we make them superintendent.

Jin: *starts to wheeze and hacking on candy even more*

Leon: I don’t know, I haven’t really…thought that out…

Yves: *bangs head on table*

Leon: I’m just saying! The only thing that could stop a bad guy with a bomb, is a ped*phile with a cause. Alright?

Jin: *dies*

Leon: and that’s how you turn registered offender to registered defender!

Everyone beside Leon: …Leon NO-!

Mc/ Emma: *was here the whole time to choose the next king but end up hearing Leon weird propositions*

Meanwhile behind the wall next door…

Clavis: …should I tell Gilbert or Chevalier..?

Tags: @vio-simps-for-purple-characters @sange-de-romane @weird-profiterole @yanderepuck @pieground @evil-quartett @spoopy-fish-writes @a-chaotic-fae

Here the short I was inspired by:

#Ikemen prince #Ikepri #Ikepri Leon #ikepri yves #ikepri licht #ikepri sariel #ikepri jin #Ikepri mc #Ikepri Clavis #incorrect quote #inspired #dark humor #inspired by a YouTube comedy short #crackpost

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wejustvibing · 1 year

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The anti-Nico anons on have me on tears 😭 Not to extend this conversation but I have to disagree on one part, yes while Nico benefitted from white privilege, as every white driver does against Lewis, I don't really remember he or his older fans being so aggressively and overtly racist towards Lewis. Lewis has always dealt with racial microaggressions but I think most of his older fans will agree that things have escalated in the last couple of years on account of the growing incel fanbase and larry shipper-esque white women. Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to defend Nico by any means but his new era hybrid fans (as one anon aptly puts it) who join the sport obsessed with MV and find their way to Nico/Brocedes are definitely the worse than his older fans. They rewrite the history between them, rewrite Lewis' personality to subject Lewis to constant racial harrassment and now a big Brocedes blog invents outrageous lies to fuel the agenda against Lewis. The only thing I have never begrudged Nico for was that he didn't take direct advantage of the antiblack sentiment against Lewis unlike Alonso, MV etc (the bar is in hell I know) but his newer fans are making sure that even that tiny amount of goodwill towards him evaporates. The way they despise Lewis to such a scary extent while obsessing over Brocedes is such strange behaviour. Lewis is only palatable to them as an extension of some mid white man, they hate him otherwise. We don't talk enough about white/nonblack women and their power in fuelling antiblack agenda in every fandom. Lewis' whole personality is reinvented by them so they can sell a delusional shipping agenda or prop their white racist fav.

let me preface this by saying i have a really limited fandom/standom experience. i've protected my peace like no other ever since i became a fan and would have continued to do the same had AD21 not happened. anyway, the point is, most of my opinions on fans/stans are based on recent observations and discourses i've seen. so, i'm not sure how much weight these older fans you're talking about hold to what anons have been discussing. if they agree with what you're saying then good for them i guess but i don't think i've seen them talking about it which could be a me problem.

but. nico. he has definitely perpetuated ugly narratives against lewis during and after his tenure, leading to microaggressions and overt racism. the covert racism has been apparent too and i don't know if it can be ignored given how to this day his word (based on his speculations especially after his retirement since he's not been in lewis' vicinity in literally years?) is held higher than those who have worked closely with lewis AFTER him. just because what? he's won a title as opposed to lewis' 2? i fail to recount this goodwill that you talk about here. maybe he didn't take direct advantage but he perpetuated that shit and benefited all the same.

and oh boy you're bang on about the fans' need to associate every little thing lewis says or does with a white man to make him palatable and tbh it needs to be studied and called out every single day. hybrid fans are the worst but yeah, this is not just a brocedes issue. just because we don't make a big deal out of it doesn't mean we don't seen it.

because how are they spending all their time excessively fetishislzing and hyper-sexualizing him but the moment they need to use their brain (because they're clearly incapable of treating him as just another human), he's on the highest of pedestals, proscribed of making even the smallest of "wrong" move white men get an easy pass for. he needs to be punished and has karma coming for him god forbid he displays a single emotion his white counterparts are forgiven & even lauded for.

he's their "favorite" till it's time to show him the same empathy these mid white men get for worse things. they love him as long as they get to "consume" and do not have to "accept". the fetishization of his struggles, adversities and grace in the garb of solidarity and brownie points (i guess?) is so dehumanizing.

"i love it when his back is against the wall" ummm no? "look he's still pining for xyz because he has repressed feelings" ummm how about fuck no?

but i digress.

#anonymous #good morning i took the plunge rip #bye

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mediaevalmusereads · 1 year

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A Week to Be Wicked. By Tessa Dare. Avon, 2012.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of Series? Yes, Spindle Cove #2

Summary: Minerva Highwood, one of Spindle Cove's confirmed spinsters, needs to be in Scotland. Colin Sandhurst, Lord Payne, a rake of the first order, needs to be . . . anywhere but Spindle Cove. These unlikely partners have one week to fake an elopement, to convince family and friends they're "in love," to outrun armed robbers, to survive their worst nightmares, to travel four hundred miles without killing each other... all while sharing a very small carriage by day and an even smaller bed by night. What they don't have time for is their growing attraction. Much less wild passion. And heaven forbid they spend precious hours baring their hearts and souls.Suddenly one week seems like exactly enough time to find a world of trouble. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . everlasting love.

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, violence, blood, unwanted sexual advances, references to death and trauma

Overview: I kept seeing this book on “best of historical romance” lists, and since I generally like Tessa Dare, I figured it was time to dive in. Overall, I was highly entertained by this book; while it didn’t have everything I was looking for plot-wise, the banter between the two protagonists and their clear character arcs kept me thoroughly engrossed. This book was also humorous in a way I found enjoyable rather than cringey, so for all those reasons, this book gets 4 stars from me.

Writing: Dare’s prose in this book is clear and quick, which makes the narrative progress at a fast pace without feeling rushed. I also think Dare balanced showing and telling very well, and she clearly has a knack for knowing when the plot should move on. This book also contains a lot of Dare’s trademark humor, and more so than other romances, this one made me smile multiple times.

Plot: The non-romance plot of this book follows Minerva Highwood, the bookish second daughter of her family, as she makes a deal with Colin Sandhurst, a viscount and notorious rake. Minerva has made a discovery that is sure to win her the grand prize at the upcoming Geologists’ conference in Edinburgh. Colin, by contrast, is stranded in Spindle Cove without access to his family funds until he either marries or reaches his next birthday. To dissuade Colin from marrying her older sister, Diana, Minerva makes him a deal: if Colin can get her to Edinburgh, she will win the geologists’ prize and give all the money to him - enough to keep him comfortable until his birthday. To keep people from suspecting he has abducted her, she will also leave “evidence” to convince her family that Minerva and Colin have eloped. Colin, eager to leave Spindle Cove, reluctantly agrees.

This book is roughly structured like a Regency road trip, which means that most of the events don’t so much build on one another as much as they happen in sequence. Usually, I don’t really enjoy these types of plots, but I think Dare made her characters so compelling that watching them interact was a joy. Part of what made it so enjoyable, I think, was that each major adventure on the road brought out a different aspect of their personalities; as a result, everything felt fairly fresh and it was clear that we were getting to know the characters more and more with each new “scene.”

The only things I didn’t really appreciate about the plot were the moments where unwanted sexual interest was a major component. While there wasn’t any rape or outright sexual assault, there were a few moments where Minerva was sexualized in a way that made her uncomfortable. Thankfully, they weren’t enough to make me put down the book altogether, but some readers may have different tolerances.

I also thought that the ending was a little too rushed, which is a shame because it’s so charged with emotion that I would have loved for Dare to slow down and explore her characters more. Without spoiling anything, I will say that Minerva has to decide what matters to her, and I felt like things were going well up until the end when it all seemed to rush to a close. I understand that this is a romance and perhaps length was an issue, but I would have loved to linger a little more in (and on) Edinburgh.

Characters: Minerva, our heroine, is fairly likeable in that she’s bookish, smart, and brave. I liked that she was a geologist and had hidden depths to her; for example, she doesn’t really like embroidery but because she is made to learn the skill, she embroiders things that interest her (like ammonites). She also sings incredibly well yet hates performing. These hidden depths made me feel like I was always learning more about her, and I was always interested to see how she’d react in any given situation. The only thing I didn’t like about her was her inexperience with sex, and that’s not because Dare did anything wrong; rather, it’s just a character trait that I don’t find appealing, and it’s entirely personal preference.

Colin, our hero, very much feels like a charismatic rake, which I appreciated. Too often, I feel like rakes aren’t written like rakes - they’re more like nice guys who have a lot of sex. Colin, by contrast, felt like a hedonist, and Dare did a good job of balancing that hedonism with pain and using charisma to cover up hidden trauma. I was almost worried that Colin wouldn’t end up reforming in a way that was convincing, but Dare ultimately made his arc feel like an evolution, which was enjoyable.

Supporting characters were fine, though I think they sometimes distracted from the narrative rather than enhanced it. Dare seemed to be laying the foundations for the next novel in the series, which was fine, but felt somewhat out of place.

Romance: Minerva and Colin’s romance was incredibly satisfying, in part because their banter was so enjoyable to read. I loved the way the two protagonists challenged each other and irritated one another without things turning toxic, and I loved that they had quirks that clearly showed they cared for the other (all without Dare spelling it out too much for the reader). I also really liked that their romance focused on making one another feel valued and worthy of love, so their individual growth mirrored their growth as a couple.

TL;DR: A Week to Be Wicked has a couple of narrative stumbles, but ultimately, the chemistry between the protagonists and the balance of humor and true character growth make this book a classic for romance readers.

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forgotten-stories-podcast · 2 years

Text

The Howling Past pt10

-Nurse! I’m starving! Bring me something!

Two weeks had passed and Vi was on her bed at the hospital. She recovered from most of the injuries but the doctors wanted to hold her until complete recovery. They found it incredible how some broken bones had healed so quickly, not suspecting that shimmer, or a variant of it, was used, and strangely the blood tests showed nothing. If Vi had told them about it, it would probably have caused neverending exams and tests to be done, and she wanted to get out of there. She was itching to go back to Zaun and look for Vander again.

-Will you release me, already? I’m fine!

-You’ll go when they say you can go.

-Cupcake! You took your time to come and pay me a visit.- Caitlyn entered the room and sat next to her bed. She took off her hat and spoke.

-What happened was insane and you got reckless, even more than usual.

-Awwww! You were worried! How cute of you!

-Stop it.- Caitlyn facepalmed at that mockery. -The doctors said that you died. Not almost died, actually died.-

-They didn’t tell me that something did show up in the medical analyses.

-It’s because they knew you would have stormed out of the building the moment they told you. You are to come back here and get tested once per week.

-Oh, come on!

-That’s an order. And I’m not sending you without support ever again.

-It was personal. You know that I would not have accepted help from no one. Except you, of course.

-What about that girl, Zeri?

-I met the kid that day. It just happened that she was fighting her own battles and we shared an enemy. She saved my life. Speaking of which, where is she?

-She was brought back home once able to walk again. Being from Zaun we cannot keep her without her will.

-I see. Well, I need to thank her properly. And Ekko.

-Oh, Ekko was there too? I didn’t see him.

-He got injured and Zeri brought him to safety.

-I see.- a nurse came with the lunch for Vi. She said hi to Caitlyn, left the food on the table and left. -Finally! It’s trash, but I’m starving.- said Vi while going to eat.

-I’ll leave you to it, then. I have some matters to attend to. You will be released today.

-I’ll see you later, then, Cupcake. Thanks for passing by.

Caitlyn didn’t say anything. She approached Vi and gave her a kiss on the lips. It was short but very sweet.

-So you DID miss me.- provoking Caitlyn was what Vi loved the most.

-Quiet, you.- she whispered with a smile. -Get well soon. We have much work to do.-

-Yes, Ma’am.

Caitlyn left the room, leaving her partner to her slop and, most frighteningly, her thoughts.

Vi had been reliving what happened on that day since her reawakening a few days prior. Discovering that Vander had been transformed into a wolf who killed without control and that he was fighting for the supremacy of his own body against a split personality.

Vi had promised to save him, but would she be able to do it?

She finished eating. Self-doubting and overthinking would have accomplished nothing. It was better to punch any doubt and negative thoughts.

She stood in front of a wall with several cracks and dents, very much like her own cell in the Still Water prison. The doctors knew it was useless to forbid anything from her. She started punching the wall.

When she finally got released, later that day, she almost immediately went to the Sump, to the ex-Firelight HQ. The big tree was as majestic as ever and even more people were there.

-Damn… it’s even better than I remembered…

-That’s because you haven’t showed up in a while.- Ekko came out from a shadow near Vi. -I’m glad you’re ok.-

-I’m happy to see you standing again, Little Man.- said Vi before hugging him. -You saved everyone’s ass on that day.-

-Numerous times, if I may.- replied Ekko.

-I would expect nothing less from the former Firelight leader.

The two headed to the top of the tree, to the highest house built on that massive tree, which miraculously grew in a place such as the Sump. Unlike Vi, Ekko was still recovering and was limping. Vi was happy to help him walk.

-Any news from Zeri? I haven’t seen her since that day.

-She came here after getting dismissed from the hospital. She still needed to rest and heal so we took her in. She told me what happened after I passed out. Gotta say, it’s unbelievable that that monster is actually a mentally deranged Vander. The Hound of the Undercity was not just a name after all.

-Yeah…- Vi got sad, but her sadness was immediately replaced with anger, -whoever did this to him is going to pay, I swear.-

-We swear. Vander was not my father but still, he was incredibly good to me and was a dear friend of Benzo.

-Thank you, Ekko. Really.

The two arrived at their destination. It was still a mystery how the Chem-Barons did not discover the tree and attack it to obtain its massive supply of wood.

Vi let Ekko sit on a chair and she walked to the handrail of the balcony, looking at Zaun from above.

-I remember the first time I saw this tree. It was the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen and I still think that.

-It’s how Zaun should be: wonderful, strong and united.

-You’re going to make Zaun like this tree, I know it.

-We are.- Ekko looked at her serious but in a gentle way. -We’re going to need your help.-

-Me? I’m a sellout, you said that when we met.- Vi’s voice sounded defeated.

-Don’t blame yourself for what happened, it’s not your fault. You did not abandon Powder, you did not transform her into Jinx, I don’t care what she says. You did nothing wrong. You went to Piltover because you needed to grow, and the Sheriff helped you. Also, I know she’s not just your boss.

Vi chuckled. Ekko’s words hit the bullseye, but was he sincere? Did he say the truth?

-No matter what happens, no matter how long you’ll be in Piltover, you’re Zaun to me, and nothing will ever change that.

Vi turned to him with tears in her eyes. She hugged him and couldn’t hold them anymore. -...thank you…- she tightened her embrace.

-OW!

-Oh, sh… sorry…

The two spoke for hours remembering the good ol’ times. Vander and Benzo, their dream to make Zaun a better place, which inspired Ekko and the Firelights. Mylo and Claggor, two wonderful boys that never got their chance to shine. Ekko started imagining how they would have become if they were still alive but quickly dropped the subject after seeing that Vi wasn’t in the mood to talk about them.

Then, the sound of someone climbing stairs really quick attracted the two.

-Hey, Ekko, there’s something I gotta tell you about your dev… Vi?!

-Hello, kid.- Zeri. She didn’t have her usual equipment and was still with bandages on some parts of her body.

-I’m so glad you’re ok!- the girl hugged Vi as if she was an old friend.

-Good to see you too, Zeri. How are you holding up?

-Oh, you know, nothing that some good old zapping can’t fix. You?

-I’m good. I think I got some remnants of that shimmer in me.

-You what?- asked Ekko. The two told him what happened after he got injured.

-You did WHAT to my Z-Drive?!

-I’m sorry!- said Zeri bowing to him.

-Do you have any idea how difficult it is to build one of those things?!

-Break my backpack and we’re even!

Vi, watching all of that, couldn’t hold her laughs. So long had passed since she was able to laugh like that. In Piltover it was just work 24/7, and the free time she had was dedicated to fixing her gauntlets, training or spending time with Cait. It felt ages since she had the opportunity to breathe, enjoy to moment and actually have fun.

-Vi! Vi! Can you hear me?- Zeri was waving her hand in front of Vi’s face. She had been spacing out while looking at the view of Zaun from the tree.

-Yeah, yeah, I’m good.

-Can you please tell Ekko that it’s not my fault the Z-Drive got hit by the bullets?

-Ekko, when will you tell her that you have at least two more?

-What?!

-Damn it, Vi! Quit spoiling my fun!

-Oh, you do? I was joking!

-...shit.

The ladies burst in a loud laugh and Ekko joined them soon after.

-It was scary, like anything I’ve ever faced.

-I know, kid. Scariest shit I’ve been in since Urgot.

-Oh, yeah, the cult.- Ekko stood up. -Luckily, you investigated. It would have been a civil war all over again, and because of a Noxian, of all people…

-Vi… I need to confess something.- Zeri said with a little bit of shame in her voice.

-Were you part of the cult?

-No! I’d never… you’re teasing me.

-Oh, you’re learning!- Vi and Ekko laughed. -Tell me, kid.-

-I knew who you were before meeting you. Or at least I thought I did, by what people said on the streets. I was convinced that you had simply left Zaun, that you chose to not fight for your home. Ekko told me what really happened, in detail. I owe you my apologies.

Zeri bowed toward Vi and she felt a little embarassed.

-No, stop it!- Vi put her hands on Zeri’s shoulders and lifted them up, making her stand. -You owe me nothing. Things have changed, but Zaun is still my home. Although, it’s not my only home…-

-Piltover?

-Even though I live and work there, they still see me as a stranger. My home is not the city.

-What is it, then?

-A person. My girlfriend.

-Awww!- Zeri mocked the vicious enforcer.

-You want trouble, kid? I think I can find something to arrest you for.- Vi lifted her fist, joking around.

-If you want to kill each other do it somewhere else, I don’t need the tree destroyed.

-Alright, alright, she’ll live.

-You sure? I almost got you the first time.

-Well said. “Almost”.

-I want a rematch.

-Bring it!- Vi prepared to fight.

-Enough!

---

Despite what happened in the end, everything went wonderfully.

Renata was watching the Uppercity, Piltover. A glass of fine red wine in her hand accompanied her thoughts of success. It could have been better, sure, the death of the ever-so-annoying pink enforcer and the electromancer would have been an outstanding event, but they managed to accomplish what they intended.

She sat on her chair, her throne. A man with not a single hair on all his body and several vials of green, unknown liquid was in front of the table at the centre of the room.

-With this, my obligations to you are over, Singed. Remember our agreement: you are in debt with me.

-How could I ever forget it, Glasc? You’re infamous to collect your debts.

-I’m a businesswoman, I have a business to take care of.- Renata took a sip of wine.

-You have nothing to worry about, I will do my part of the bargain.

-Has the specimen been a problem?

-I heavily sedated it, better play safe with it. I wouldn’t want to hunt it down a second time.

-When will it be ready?

-Hard to say. You will be contacted when they will be in fighting shape.

-The wolf, the goo and…?

-The rat.

-That…- Renata drank again, disgusted by the thought of seeing a mutated rat, especially if it could become as big as the wolf but much more disgusting.

-I’ll keep in touch.- the man turned to the other side and started walking away.

-Wait,- stopped him Renata, -aren’t you forgetting something?-

The man faced her again. A bothered and annoyed look on his face. -You have my thanks.- he said with a nod of his head.

-Good. Leave, now, you’re dropping something strange on my carpet.

Alone, Renata returned to the window. Piltover looked so peaceful, so unaware of what waited for it in the dark.

-Sleep well, Sheriff. Sleep well, Piltover. Renata Glasc is brewing something just for you.- a wicked smile formed on her face while drank the remaining liquid of the glass in one, long sip.

---

It was dark when Vi entered her house. It was close to the bridge that connected Piltover and Zaun, as if she wanted to stay close to her roots. Spare parts were all over the floor, so much so that the small cleaner robot could not do its job, keeping slamming against that junk over and over again. She grabbed it and turned it off.

She approached the big window behind the sofa and opened it. A fresh breeze hit her and caressed her face and hair like a sweet mother. In front of her, there was Zaun, the Undercity.

The words of everyone she had met in the last few days had left a mark on her. She got reckless, she gave the impression of choosing not to fight for her hometown, she was a sellout, a lapdog. Her head filled with thoughts of being a failure like they seemed to intend she was. She went to Zaun to do something and that one thing was she unable to do. All the fights she had faced, all the pain she had to endure, and all the trauma that will haunt her for the rest of her life were the only things she got.

She took a beer from the fridge, which she drank in one go. The can of beer flew fast after being thrown out of the window. Frustration was growing inside of the enforcer and with it, anger.

Yes, she left Zaun, it was too painful to stay there after what happened years ago.

Yes, she went to Piltover, she had found something worth fighting for. Caitlyn saved her from a deep, inescapable abyss of sadness and sorrow, and who knows what would have happened if she had remained in Zaun. Meeting Caitlyn was the best thing that could have happened to her.

Without even realising, Vi had been hitting the punching bag in the living room, even harder than usual. The floor was already soaking with sweat.

Her mind wandered again. With each punch came changing. “Hey, sellout!” left its place to “You’re Zaun to me”. “You chose not to fight for Zaun” became “I owe you apologies”. “A lapdog’s a lapdog” remained the same because fuck Renata. “You’ve been reckless” transformed into a sweet kiss.

Sweaty, a little out of breath and with her resolve renewed, Vi returned to the window.

-I’ll come back for you, Vander, I swear, and I’ll save Zaun too.- she closed a fist and put it in front of her as an oath. -One punch at a time.-

(Image by Riot Games)

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