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thecloserkin · 5 years

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book review: Marian Veevers, Jane & Dorothy (2018)

Genre: Biography

Is it the main pairing: Yes

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: No

Is it endgame: No

Is it shippable: Yes

Bottom line: Y’all fools: Stanning Lord Byron and his half-sister Augusta whom he didn’t even meet until he was nearly grown, never mind whether he actually knocked her up. Me, an intellectual: William and Dorothy Wordsworth are right there, eloping to the countryside and spending the rest of their days holed up in a picturesque cottage composing poetry.

First let’s have a detour where I yell about Crimson Peak (2015, dir. Guillermo del Toro). A few of the recent asks about incest vs. the patriarchy got me thinking about this line from Jane & Dorothy: “the malevolent power of married women over their spinsters-in-law.” Between the wife and the unmarried sister it’s obvious who has more power and it’s clearly not the spinster sister-in-law—and yet Guillermo del Toro would have us believe that Edith in Crimson Peak is helpless before Lucille’s resistance to giving up the skeleton key (the one that opens every room in the house). Edith is made out to be the victim of Lucille’s bloodthirsty unhinged jealousy, when she’s not only THE WIFE she’s got ALL THE MONEY, she’s literally holding all the cards??? It doesn’t add up. This biography is the antidote to that. It looks at the paucity of options open to your average 19th century girl who just wants a Room of One’s Own to write in, and situates her bid for freedom in the context of having no good options. The trouble with “Crimson Peak” was not that Edith wasn’t relatable or that I didn’t identify with her; when Thomas tears her down in that faux-breakup speech he attacks her on the terrain where she’s most vulnerable, her abilities as a writer. The trouble with Crimson Peak was that this beat would have hit so much harder had it landed on Lucille, a woman who’s WAY more vulnerable than Edith by dint of having (1) no marriage prospects and (2) no inheritance. Without Thomas this bitch has (3) no survival strategy either! Otoh take away Thomas and Edith is still left with her dad’s $$$, Edith still has Alan waiting in the wings to swoop in & save her, in other words Edith will be just fine. No wonder Lucille feels so threatened!! The situations are not even comparable. Here then is Jane & Dorothy which offers two case studies of women whose impulse to write & create was just as strong as Edith’s, but whose plight was much closer to Lucille’s ie. precarious as fuck.

I picked this book up because it’s actually a dual biography of Dorothy Wordsworth and Jane Austen, and I’m a basic bitch and Jane Austen is my eternal favorite. I’m going to focus on the Dorothy chapters but rest assured I read the Jane chapters with equal gusto. Jane Austen (b. 1775) and Dorothy Wordsworth (b. 1771) were both born into the British pseudo-gentry, which means they were too highborn to go and get a paying gig as a governess or companion but not highborn enough to have any independent source of income (neither of them had a dowry settled on them). While the two women never crossed paths, the arcs of their lives run in parallel as they pursue divergent strategies to secure their futures. So the primary imperative here is to avoid a life of domestic drudgery. But the secondary imperative, because these are both perceptive girls with rich inner lives, is this:

For an intelligent woman, confined to a society which denies her higher education and restricts her existence largely to the home, the male companion with whom she shares her life is her chief provider, not only of security and affection, but of intellectual stimulation.

This is a popular romance novel plot, do I want to marry a man who is a bore (possibly also a boor) or do I want to starve hmmmm. The point is that women are frequently starved for both affection and intellectual stimulation, and it’s little wonder Dorothy fell so hard for her brother William when he showered her with both. Dorothy and William were separated as children when, after the death of their mother, she was sent to live with an aunt in West Yorkshire (she was seven, he was eight). Nine years later they reconnected and sparks flew almost immediately. I mean I think their letters speak for themselves:

”the last time we were Together William won my Affection to a Degree which I cannot describe.”

What kind of brother needs to “win” his sister’s affection? Most of them treat sisters like furniture.

”Never have my eyes burst upon a scene of particular loveliness,” he wrote, “but I have wished that you could be transported to the place where I stood to enjoy it.”

standard “everything beautiful either reminds me of you, or makes me want to share it with you” pablum but EXTREMELY effective for all that

but enough he is my brother, why should I describe him? I shall be launching again into panegyric

Dorothy: hahaha but don’t you think my brother was looking mighty fiiiiiine today

”his attentions to me were such as the most insensible of mortals must have been touched with”

”I assure you so eager is my desire to see you that all obstacles vanish. I see you in a moment running or rather flying to my arms.”

That letter is from William, and you have to remember that William was supposed to be a huge dick who routinely ignored his friends’ missives leaving them in suspense whether he was alive or dead and yet he managed a lively & regular correspondence with Dorothy for years before they moved in together. It’s almost like he treated her … special.

”that sympathy which will almost identify us when we have stole to our little cottage”

These kids are already plotting their elopement jfc! Here are some snippets from Dorothy’s diary from much later, after they have in fact achieved The Dream of their own cottage:

”After dinner we made a pillow of my shoulder, I read to him and my Beloved slept.”

”The fire flutters and the watch ticks and I hear nothing save the Breathing of my Beloved and he now and then pushes his book forward and turns over a leaf.” It is a picture of domestic contentment such as Jane Austen draws to portray a genuinely happy marriage.

”After we came in we sat in deep silence at the window — I on a chair and William with his hand on my shoulder. We were deep in Silence and love, a blessed hour.”

This is literally #goals. Veevers points out that “the conflation of marriage with home, spinsterhood with insecurity” meant that “William was promising the kind of permanence and safety which women usually found in marriage.” Dorothy really thought she could Have It All: a home of her own and a rich, stimulating intellectual life shared with the man she loved. And she proceeded to spend the rest of her life making fair copies of his poems. Hell, she pushed him to be a poet in the first place (it was not at all clear initially that this was the best plan for William, who could just have easily have embarked on a career as a political polemicist, but it was Dorothy who pushed him to be a poet, Dorothy who spent the rest of her life copying out his verses in her fairer hand). Early on Dorothy & William befriended the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who was so envious of their bond that he complained, “You have all in each other, but I am lonely, and want you!” Can you b e l i e v e Coleridge actually said that. If one of you hoes doesn’t write me the William/Dorothy Historical RPF that’s Coleridge Outsider POV I s2g I will do my damnedest to die of consumption.

Veveers sums it up this way: “It was a relationship few women would be able to have with their husbands, for, at the time, the two sexes were expected to inhabit different mental landscapes.” To put it bluntly women had ovaries instead of brains; they just weren’t interested in the same stuff a man was. Otoh you have William and Dorothy Wordsworth, actual soulmates: the historical consensus is there is “some uncertainty as to whether she would be best described as muse, emotional support, secretary or co-author.” And she didn’t hide it, either. This is where you really see the difference between Dorothy, who is so open, and Austen heroines like Eleanor Dashwood (Sense & Sensibility), Fanny Price (Mansfield Park) or Anne Eliot (Persuasion) who also feel things deeply but had to regulate the bejeezus out of their emotional responses. This is Dorothy:

After any separation her joy at meeting her brother again was uncontrollable. “I believe I screamed,” she admitted on one occasion when there were witnesses.

Uncontrollable screaming in front of witnesses every time she’s reunited with her brother??? WE STAN. This is how low Dorothy’s spirits sink whenever he’s gone:

”I slept in Wm.’s bed, and I slept badly, for my thoughts were full of William.”

adkfjdkfjdkfjdk I just want to add that when William is home the floorboards are so thin that she can hear him pacing in the bedroom above hers, so his insomnia keeps both of them up at night but she doesn’t mind, she can’t sleep until he falls asleep, she would probably give up a kidney or a lung if she thought it would sell 500 more copies for him. I’m torn between GIRL HE AIN’T WORTH IT and stanning her even harder for being so ride or die on any topic that touches her brother (later, when he has kids, she decides William’s kids are smarter and better-looking than everyone else’s kids).

This is the most iconic line in the entire book, from a letter Dorothy writes to an interfering relative who deplores Dorothy’s judgment for throwing in her lot with a penniless failson like William:

”I affirm that I consider the character and virtues of my brother sufficient protection”

The icily scathing tone of the setdown is PERFECTION. But also, this just in your brother abandoned his pregnant Catholic mistress in France. You know this. Yet here you are gallivanting around the countryside in his company. In fact, when he proves too much of a coward to tell your uncle himself about the existence of said pregnant mistress—this is the uncle who funded all of William’s education and reasonably expects some return on it—he delegates Dorothy to break the news. Dorothy also winds up in charge of all correspondence with the poor girl, who writes occasionally asking for a little money or when is William coming back to France to marry me, and it’s Dorothy who has to fob her off. And this whole incident—the revelation of the French mistress, the break with the family, William refusing to take holy orders to become a clergyman—is so pivotal in their relationship! They were close before but this is the irrevocable step when Dorothy decides to join her fate to his. And her motivation could not be clearer:

William’s outspoken affection for her seems to have first aroused a reciprocal love in Dorothy, but it was his fall from grace, his isolation and his need of a friend, which provided the final catalyst that raised her gradually deepening affection into wholehearted, single-minded devotion.

She saw his need and responded almost involuntarily. She is a RESCUER.

Dorothy, was in one way, very fortunate to have fallen in love with her brother. “Rambling around the country on foot” with a slightly disreputable brother might bring down the censure of her more conventional relatives, but it was a good deal safer than rambling about with a man who was not a brother.

This is the kind of behavior that if two unrelated people engaged in it must have resulted in the man being honor-bound to extend an offer of marriage, because a woman has nothing if she doesn’t have her virtue. Two siblings roaming the countryside, picking flowers and wading thru streams and stargazing? My god what PRIME fodder for fake married tropes! Just present yourself at the first inn you come to as a married couple and then guess what? There was only one bed!!!!

at Grasmere “there was an unnatural tale current of Wordsworth … having been intimate with his own sister.”

tell me MOAR omg this is so deliciously Gothic i keep thinking about that line from Wuthering Heights “whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

at Alfoxton, “the master of the house,” it was said, “had no wife with him, but only a woman who passes for his sister.”

PASSES for his sister trololololol like they don’t act the way you’d expect of a brother and sister, like they’re too into each other.

And it was generally accepted that immorality and radical anti-British sentiment went together.

But really William got much more staid and less radical as he got older, and Dorothy was never political because her energies were centered on William William William. On top of which it’s hard to overlook the fact that William would go into Dorothy’s journals and “borrow” her words and publish them verbatim as his own; he felt as entitled to her intellectual labor as her domestic labor, and there is nothing radically egalitarian about that. So I definitely don’t think this is a case where incest is subversive so much as incest illuminating existing hierarchies & oppressions. Veveers writes: “An unmarried woman’s hold on her own time was extremely fragile. She could be made use of in any crisis, transported against her wishes” to fulfill another family members’ needs. Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra evidently shouldered both their weights when it came to this sort of emotional labor: writing letters of thanks & condolence, minding their brothers’ children, calming hypochondriac aunts down, attending births of little nephews & nieces. Cassandra doing all this extra labor gave Jane the space and time to write. Moreover Jane had formed the ambition to write. Dorothy, on the other hand, thought anything worth saying was already being said by William. And she didn’t have her own Cassandra to share the unceasing burden of housework with:

In fact, the domestic labor and childcare that lay ahead of Dorothy were almost indistinguishable from the duties she had escaped at Forncett rectory. But now she was to be living in a home she had chosen, with a man she loved.

Did it matter in the end, Dorothy’s rebellion? If she’d remained a hanger-on in her uncle’s household, living on his charity, her life would not have been outwardly all that different. I have to believe that her choices did matter, of course. It would be easy to sit here and speculate that if Dorothy had not poured all her mental and physical resources into supporting William’s career, she too might have produced another Pride & Prejudice, but naturally we cannot know that. What we know is that Dorothy and William were 100% in love, a fact that anyone with a modicum of reading comprehension can verify by reading their letters. Why is this not more widely discussed? William Wordsworth was not exactly an obscure poet. The explanation, again, comes back to patriarchy:

The idea that Dorothy might have inspired (or felt) desire at Dove Cottage was as abhorrent to mid-20th century academics as it was to gentlemen of the early 19th century … who preferred to think of unmarried women drooping and degenerating after the age of 25, rather than maintaining a subversive and disturbing sexuality.

I wish I could say that William and Dorothy grew old together at Dove Cottage. What actually happened is he got married (she talked him into it—she chose a mutual friend of theirs whom they’d known for ages) and accidentally fell in love with his wife oops. His new wife was neither young nor pretty, in fact she was painfully plain, but that William became genuinely attached to her there can be no doubt. Dorothy continued to live with them and look after their children until her death. So I think we have avoided the worst case scenario, the malevolent-power-of-the-married-woman-ruins-her-spinster-in-law’s-life scenario: This is what happened to Jane Austen when Jane’s father unexpectedly announced his retirement, uprooting Jane and Cassandra from the Steventon rectory where they’d lived all their lives and forcibly removing them to Bath, where Jane was so miserable she did no writing for years. All this upheaval on account of Jane’s brother and his wife wanting the Steventon rectory and its income for their own! The accursed woman was probably measuring the drapes before she’d moved in. Anyway, it is fortunate this open enmity did not characterize Dorothy Wordsworth’s relationship with her sister in law; they were fast friends and they remained friends after the latter’s marriage to William. But instead of William-and-Dorothy forming the nucleus of life at Dove Cottage now it was William-and-Mary, and if this did not sting at least a little Dorothy would not be human. She had been supplanted in William’s heart. I CRY.

Because I’m literal shipper trash I want to end on the bittersweet note of SIBLINGS EXCHANGING RINGS AS A SYMBOL OF COMMITMENT EVEN THO THEY CAN’T LEGALLY GET MARRIED. This is Dorothy’s description of the morning of William and Mary’s wedding, right before they leave the house to attend the ceremony:

”I gave him the wedding ring—with how deep a blessing! I took it from my forefinger where I had worn it the whole of the night before—he slipped it again onto my finger and blessed me fervently.” It might be said that William married her before he married Mary, and that Dorothy was making a promise in that upstairs room try like the one Mary was about to make in church.

it’s been two months since I read this book and i’m STILL SCREECHING byeeeee

#dorothy wordsworth #book review

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todobaku-shoukat · 5 years

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The Rebirthed Prince’s Counter-Attack (1/?)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416985/chapters/46581322

Prev Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416985/chapters/46208515

Prev Arc: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18906280

When Bakugou comes to, he is getting married. To the Emperor of the Hong Empire. While wearing a traditional wedding dress for female concubines. What the ever-loving fuck? Bakugou thinks. This is not the wedding he was looking forward to. However, in order to stay in character, Bakugou has to carry on with the wedding, all whilst trying to figure out what is going on. At the very least, Bakugou thinks, the wedding ceremony is almost over. He transmigrated after the actual getting married part, so he isn’t technically the one who got married. Bringing forth the foreign memories to understand which character he is, Bakugou realises something terrible. Most concubines didn’t have weddings with the Emperor. Only those who have strong family backgrounds tend to have weddings, especially if the Emperor really favoured the concubine. And as the Grand Chancellor’s daughter, Bakugou definitely deserved a proper wedding.

Realising that he is currently Su Mi, Bakugou wants to escape immediately. Isn’t Su Mi a woman? In order to fit the character, does that mean that Bakugou no longer has his… No, Bakugou refuses to think like this. There’s nothing wrong with being a woman, but Bakugou has a strong attachment to his dick. Worried, Bakugou tries to discretely check his crotch, but to no avail. When the wedding finally ends and Bakugou is sent to his chambers, he immediately strips, heaving a sigh of relief when he sees the familiar attachment at his crotch. Lying down on the bed with his arms apart, Bakugou finally has the mood to think about other things, such as the plot and Todoroki.

Recalling story Su Mi’s memories, Bakugou learns that Su Mi is actually a man, and the name Su Mi was merely an alias. His real name, of course, was also Bakugou Katsuki, automatically changing to match Bakugou’s own name. The Grand Chancellor was loyal to Su Mi’s parents, so when the current Emperor overthrew the previous Empire, he had smuggled Su Mi out of the palace. In order to kill the current Emperor, Su Mi acted as a woman, hoping to enter the palace as a concubine so that he could kill the Emperor in bed. The plan would have succeeded if only Rui did not poison the Emperor that night. After being poisoned, the Emperor had felt strange, calling the Imperial Doctor to do a check-up on his body. After all, the Emperor took pride in his ability in bed, so he did not want to sleep with Su Mi while feeling unwell. The Imperial Doctor had checked the Emperor’s pulse, only to find out that the Emperor had what was termed “Shenkui”, a deficiency of the kidney. This deficiency was believed to be due to loss of semen, and the associated flu-like symptoms and sexual dysfunction can last weeks to months. Naturally, the Emperor believed that he had this deficiency because he had too much sex, rather than thinking he was poisoned. As there was no real cure for this, the Emperor can only wait it out. And because the Emperor was unable to become erect anymore, he no longer slept with any of his concubines, causing Su Mi’s plans to kill him in bed to fall through.

And right now, as Bakugou lies in bed, he realises that the Emperor is probably getting poisoned now. However, he does not care. After all, he does not want to sleep with the Emperor, having already seen and checked that the Emperor isn’t Todoroki. Sitting up, Bakugou realises that he can sneak around the palace to look for Todoroki. After all, there won’t be anyone visiting his room tonight. Changing out to darker clothes, Bakugou starts to analyse the possible candidates. From the way the word “Hong” is written, Bakugou guesses that Todoroki must be one of the princes. After all, the Chinese character for “Hong” was the same Japanese kanji for “Todoroki”. And out of all the princes, Bakugou thinks that the twelfth prince might be the most likely candidate. And even if the twelfth prince isn’t Todoroki, Bakugou is still going to save that poor kid.

Sneaking out, Bakugou looks for the old rundown yard he saw during his tour of the palace. It seemed like the most likely place the twelfth prince is kept. And just as expected, Bakugou finds the small child curling in the corner of a small and filthy room. His clothes are rags, blood stains being the only embellishments. Bakugou finds anger bubbling in his blood as he sees just how poorly the twelfth prince was treated. As Bakugou approaches, the child immediately sits up, body tense as if ready to fight.

Bakugou raises his hands, palms out as if to show that he meant no harm. “Hey… It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

The child only growls warningly in response, body ready to lash out if Bakugou took a step closer. From the moonlight, Bakugou can see that the child has black hair and is bald in some places, probably from when others had pulled his hair while bullying the child. But what is the most shockingly beautiful is the child’s electric blue eyes that seem to glow, reminding Bakugou of a wolf. Bakugou briefly wonders if the child is melanin-deficient, remembering the Korean variety show he was forced to watch with Todoroki.

Bakugou didn’t like children. Not really. They made him feel soft and weak, yet flustered and irritated. Kind of like how Todoroki makes him feel. But regardless of how he felt about children, at this time, Bakugou only wants to protect the poor child in front of him. But Bakugou isn’t sure about what to do. Thinking through his possible options, Bakugou decides to leave. Just for a while of course. Not an hour later, Bakugou is back with some fish he stole from the pond.

Cleaning out a small area in the room, Bakugou begins to start a fire, preparing to cook the fish over the fire. Quickly, the smell spreads through the room and Bakugou hears the child’s stomach growl in hunger. As expected, Bakugou thinks as he smirks. No one has ever rejected his cooking before, no matter how simple the meal. Bakugou senses as the child slowly approaches, caution clear in his electric blue eyes. The child stops just an arm's length away as if to ensure that Bakugou cannot suddenly hit him. With just the cackling of the flames being the only sound in the room, Bakugou appears to have forgotten the child, eyes focused on only the fish. However, the child does not let down on his vigilance. Once Bakugou is done with the first fish, he slowly puts it down before starting on another fish.

After making sure that Bakugou’s hands are both focused on the other fish, the child quickly snatches the cooked fish before running back to his corner in the room. Bakugou grins at his actions, proud that his plan is working. The child quickly swallows the fish and is soon back an arm’s length away from Bakugou.

This time, however, Bakugou does not give the fish to the child, instead biting into the fish himself. In all honesty, Bakugou was going to give the fish to the child. However, his own stomach is grumbling, and Bakugou realises that this body had yet to have dinner.

Seeing the fish he was eyeing get eaten by someone else, the child immediately whines, sad and pitiful. Bakugou feels his heart melt, shredding some of the meat off and offering it to the child. Their eyes meet as the child seems to assess if he could trust Bakugou. After what seems like forever, the child seats next to Bakugou, taking the offered meat. Bakugou smiles, giving the rest of the fish to the child. He can wait and eat the next fish.

“This is the last fish, alright? You shouldn’t eat too much at once.” Bakugou says softly. The child makes a sound of displeasure, making Bakugou laugh. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll give you more tomorrow.”

The child answers with a grunt. Looking at the child, Bakugou wants to immediately adopt him. However, the protagonist, Rui, has probably just been reborn. This meant that he couldn’t deviate too much from what the protagonist knows as his previous life. He needed to wait until Rui does something different enough such that any changes from his previous life appear to be butterfly effects from his own actions.

But waiting for that to happen and letting the child suffer in this cold and dirty room until then is too cruel, Bakugou thinks. At the same time, Bakugou isn’t sure if the child will follow him either. To come up with a plan to be able to bring the child back to his imperial quarters, Bakugou starts to recall whatever he could from both the story given to him by The Writer and from the memories of the original Su Mi.

Apparently, due to the lack of care by the Emperor and the fear the servants have due to his blue eyes, the twelfth prince was uncared for almost all of his life. When the twelfth prince was still a baby, there was a palace maid that was very close to his mother. Hence, she had fed the child and cared for him minimally for his mother’s sake. However, once the child was able to walk on his own, she stopped caring, deciding that the child can already fend for himself. As the child is still of royal blood, the servants could not directly kill the child despite their fear, instead choosing to beat and neglect the child. This empty yard had belonged to a concubine that offended the Emperor. After the concubine was sentenced to death by poison, the yard became abandoned. Hence, the twelfth prince escaped the servant quarters to come to live here. Here, the servants would not come and hit him. However, he could not hide here forever. Now and then, he would sneak out to steal food from the kitchen. But more often than not, he would be caught by the servants and concubines who would beat him. Learning the child’s situation, Bakugou becomes furious, anger emanating so much it scares the twelfth prince who scatters away to his corner in the room.

Noticing the child’s reactions, Bakugou quickly forces himself to calm down, giving the child a rare apology. However, the child remains wary. Sighing, Bakugou realises that he probably couldn’t smuggle the child into his imperial quarters as he won’t cooperate. Instead, Bakugou decides that he could at least clean this place up so that the child can have a proper place to rest. And so, Bakugou spends the rest of the night cleaning and smuggling blankets into the room. By daybreak, the child seems to have deemed Bakugou as safe, not rejecting when Bakugou cautiously steps forward to carry the child. Frowning at the bones he could feel, Bakugou gently lays the child into the makeshift bed made of blankets and tucks the child in.

“Go sleep,” Bakugou says as he pats the child’s head. “I’ll come back later.”

With that, Bakugou quickly sneaks back to his own room. Despite how much he wants to just sleep, Bakugou has to quickly get clean and get dressed. After all, he still has to go give the Empress Dowager a morning greeting. When Bakugou gets to the Empress Dowager’s imperial quarters, there are already many other imperial consorts waiting outside for the Empress Dowager to allow them inside.

Seeing his late arrival, the other imperial consorts start to mock him.

“First day and she’s already late.”

“So disrespectful.”

“Indeed. Just because she’s the Grand Chancellor’s daughter, she thinks she’s so superior!”

“Ha! She doesn’t realise that she’s only an adopted one. Being so stuck-up, we’ll see the Empress Dowager teach her what is her place!”

“Now, now. She must have been tired. It was her wedding night after all.” A gentle voice says. Although the words appear to be trying to calm the other imperial consorts, the words only seem to further enrage them. After all, it reminded them that they had a new competitor and that they were losing favour. Usually, the Emperor took in concubines without a wedding, several at a time too. However, for Bakugou, the Emperor had held a wedding and she is the only one entering this time too. This meant that the Emperor is biased towards Bakugou, making the other imperial consorts anxious and jealous. The more the Emperor favoured Bakugou, the less favour the other concubines will get. For an Emperor with over a thousand women in his harem, many of these concubines have not slept with the Emperor in years. If they couldn’t sleep with the Emperor, they cannot conceive a son, and their chances of being Empress or Empress Dowager will be diminished. Hence, they saw Bakugou as a huge threat to themselves. So before Bakugou became too powerful for them to compete against, they took the opportunity to beat him down now while they can.

But despite their increased unhappiness at the words, the other concubines kept quiet, instead turning to praise the woman who appeared to speak up for Bakugou. From their words of flattery, Bakugou identifies the woman as Imperial Consort Fu. Compared to the other concubines, Imperial Consort Fu has the greatest position and power, especially since she came is the Empress Dowager’s relative, making the Empress Dowager her strongest pillar of support in the harem.

Soon, the eunuch invites them into the Empress Dowager’s imperial quarters, Imperial Consort Fu leading all the concubines.

“Greetings to the Empress Dowager,” the concubines chorus as they bow to the Empress Dowager.

“You may rise,” the Empress Dowager replies. “Come here, Fu Yao. Come and have breakfast with me.”

Imperial Consort Fu smiles and bows respectfully, “Yes, Empress Dowager.”

And for the whole meal, the Empress Dowager only speaks to Imperial Consort Fu while the other concubines stand and watch. Bakugou knows that this is a show meant for him. While he also has a strong family background, he is nothing in the harem. And even if the Emperor gave him a proper wedding, he should not covet the place as Empress because the Empress Dowager supports Imperial Consort Fu.

In his mind, Bakugou rolls his eyes at the Empress Dowager. The Emperor is already erectile dysfunctional, so there is no way he can fight with the other concubines here. Besides, he had no interest in becoming the Empress either.

When their meal is finally finished, Bakugou had thought that he was finally free. Except, surprisingly, the Empress Dowager addresses him.

“Su Mi. You are new here, so there are many rules in the harem you may not understand. If you have any queries, ask Fu Yao.” The Empress Dowager says, a final reminder that she favoured Imperial Consort Fu, before they are all allowed to leave.

Bakugou wants to immediately dash off, but he remembers that Rui had waited for him in his previous life. Then, Rui had wanted to ensure that the woman he loves was still “pure, stopping Su Mi to have a talk. After he was reborn, it was not stated if Rui came to check again, so Bakugou has to act accordingly. Walking down the designated path back to his imperial quarters, Bakugou sees Rui. But this time, Rui does not stop him. Instead, after seeing Bakugou, Rui had to hide his anger, turning and pretending that he did not see Bakugou. And so, Bakugou continues walking. However, as gets closer to his own imperial quarters, Bakugou hears somebody cussing loudly. A thought flashes in Bakugou’s mind, and he quickly moves towards the source of the sound.

As expected, Bakugou sees a palace maid kicking the twelfth prince while the child clutches tightly onto a piece of bun wordlessly. In the past life, as Su Mi had been stopped by Rui, this situation had gone unnoticed. But this time, as Rui did not stop Bakugou, Bakugou comes by in time to stop the beating.

Seeing Bakugou approach, the palace maid quickly escapes, worried that Bakugou will punish her. After all, Bakugou is new here, and the palace maid isn’t sure how Bakugou will react. Ignoring the palace maid, Bakugou instead goes to the child who only holds on to his bun tighter.

“I’m not going to steal your bun, kid,” Bakugou says as he carries the child who does not move. This is enough butterfly effect, Bakugou thinks as he decides to bring the child back to the imperial quarters. From now on, Bakugou is going to adopt this child.

“What name should I give you?” Bakugou wonders as he looks at the child in his arms. He needs a name that sounded Chinese so that it will not be too strange, but Bakugou also wanted to give the child a Japanese name. In the end, Bakugou decides on the name ‘緱’. It stood for the cord binding the hilt of a sword. Not only did the kanji read similarly as Gou in both Japanese and Chinese, but the meaning also suited the child. Furthermore, the pronounciation resembled Bakugou’s own surname, making a tangible connection between them. “From now on, you’re called Gou, okay?”

Hearing the name, the child looks up to meet Bakugou’s eyes as if to acknowledge the name.

#todobaku #fanfic #TodoBaku's Quick Transmigration #The Rebirthed Prince's Counter-Attack

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happinessisserotonin-blog · 6 years

Text

Here we go...

So... I don't really know how to do this... I don't really know how to begin...

I want to scream at the top of my lungs, then revert back to the darkness...

Ok yes that sounds INCREDIBLY cliche and dramatic... but it explains my feelings so well...

I want to swallow all of my Urbanol 5mg pills (I have 59 left...)... I want to make all the pain go away...

But it won't help... then my son is left without his mother and will go to his manwhore of a father...

I found out yesterday that he (Let's call him S) has gotten not one, but 2 different women pregnant...

He intends to marry the 20 year old one, whilst the mid 30s one wants nothing to do with him... and mind you, he is 28!!!!

He got me pregnant when I was 19... after having walked out on his 6 year marriage (knocked her up when he was 17, married her at 18, had another kid 2 years later, then 2 years later left her for me). He was still married and only got divorced a month before my son was born...

I was in matric when he moved into my home. My family wanted to help him out... he was only 22 at the time... I was 18... he had no place to live... we are good people. Better than we should be...

He came and left numerous times as he couldn't "be away from his boys". That put strain on me. Then he came back and we all welcomed him back with open arms. But a piece of me was gone...

He always told me of this great life he had (don't worry I know I was stupid and dumb to believe it all... I just wanted the romance that really was never there but didn't want to be alone so I took what I could get...)

He told me we was in the US army and that his uncle and cousins lived in Canada. First red flag! He is a South African citizen so therefore there was NO way he could have been in the army in America...

Then he said he had a massive tattoo on his back (there is nothing there now except a small mole) he said he was in an accident where he was dragged by a truck and it grazed his entire back so he lost the tattoo... (Now I'm just plain blonde at this point- but I knew, I knew it was all a lie, but I wanted someone to sleep next to a night. Someone to tell me I was pretty when I didn't believe it myself... so I let him carry on lying)

Recently he revealed that he has Cancer of the kidneys, liver and a brain tumour... he is on Chemo Pills, but still manages to gym, be a bartender, drink like a fish, as well as have a full head of hair... My father died to Cancer... I know the signs and symptoms as well as side effects of Chemopherapy. I called his Doctor and they had never heard of him... at all...

We moved out of my mom's house and into a flat. A month later, I was late... very late... Blood test came back positive.. I cried, and cried and cried. He was over the moon happy.

My mother was furious. How can he have 2 other kids and one on the way and only earn R4000 a month?! (For those that don't know the currency, look it up, it is NOTHING!!)

But I was dumb and "in love" so screw it, it was us against the world. My mom came around eventually, as did everyone else... we were excited... moved back to the house for help with the baby. Another boy for him. My son. My baby boy. My everything. My (Let's call him M).

Eventually, S wavered his parental rights to his 2 previous son's. Despite my efforts to keep him from doing it... his mind was made up. The fear sets in... what if we end? Will he give M up too?

Things were okay for a while... or so I thought they were... flags kept popping up everywhere... but my blinders where on... stuck there for good.

We broke up many times during our relationship (ironically also 6 years of on and off bullshit) he moved out and in and out and in. It became a pattern... but still, I loved him and wanted us to be a family for M.

In 2018 he stole a LOT of money from his employer... he was arrested and admitted to the crime. My mother bailed him out on my request... we still brought him home... he found a new job and went to court every month for his hearings...

2 months later, he was asked to go into work as they were short staffed that night. He asked to use my car (the car I bought for myself, by myself, brand new, off the dealers floor) I said sure... see you later... love you...

2am the next morning, a tow truck driver calls me and let's me know he has been in an accident, my car is badly damaged, and S is heavily under the influence of alcohol... and... he is not at work... he is at a night club with a woman who works in the same complex as he does...

My parents and I go to fetch him. He can't even walk... let alone talk... we go home, I slapped him over 7 times in the face. He then slept in the spare room for 3 months before eventually moving out...

During those months we tried to reconcile... the trust was gone... through everything before, the trust was chipped away piece by piece...

We had tried for nearly a year to fall pregnant again, even after the theft, even after the car! I so badly wanted another baby, to the point where I would cry myself to sleep and wake up crying...

He just wanted sex.

After he moved out, he would come every Sunday to see M and then maybe stay the night and we would have sex. It was unhealthy but I wanted someone... I had never been alone in my adult life... ever... and I didn't want to be...

After the first week in January, he stopped coming, he stopped calling M at night and stopped asking me how I was...

He was with someone else...

As I type this, it has now been 24 hours since I found out that when he moved out, he slept with someone... and got her pregnant... he is currently 4/5 months pregnant. She wants nothing to do with him at all.

It has also been 24 hours since I found out that he also slept with the girl he works near who was with him the night he crashed my car... and she too is pregnant and they are engaged to be married before the baby comes.

We were engaged for 4 years... but never got married... he didn't seem it was the right thing to do with me but feels it's the right thing to do with her...

He doesn't want M or me anymore... his total is now 5 children with 4 different women...

My family loved him, clothed him, fed him, cared for him and treated him like family. He has thrown it all away...

I feel like every piece he took from me, has been broken even smaller. So small that it is now dust blowing in the wind into non existence...

But I will come out stronger... so will my son... I will protect him until my last breath... I will raise him to be the man his father was supposed to be. I will raise him to be kind, honest and true... I hope he realises his mistakes and that the universe turns that wheel onto him... lessons need to be learned... when you are left with nothing and no one... and all for what?

#ventover

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the-heaminator · 2 years

Text

I should legally not be allowed to like writing these oh my God.

Chapter 9 of But MUUM

The fighting in the rice isle of tesco had me dying because my parents, aunts uncleseveryone does it and it almost always goes like this.

Hmm that's warm, what is that, light, fucking light fuck off.

This was the thought process of England as he stole the remnants of the blanket not already on him to cover his eyes against the light of morning.

The Gilbert next to him, in his sleep was muttering what sounded like military commands, something his brothers had confirmed and recorded, was a thing he did too, but upon the stealing of the blanket he, very pathetically if I may add, whined "Get your cold fucking feet off me you God forsaken fucking frost gremlin and give me the damn blanket."

Gilbert grabbed the blanket back and put it on himself because it was all of 2 degrees outside the blanket and he would rather not freeze to death today.

In his quarter lucid state, Arthur thought.

He had the blanket, which means he will be warm, which means if I snuggle I will be warm.

Flawless logic you've got there mate, flawless logic, so he snuggled, very, very close. Gilbert wasn't exactly the most muscular dude, not anymore at least, and most considered him a little scrawny and under fed, but it seemed pretty soft to sleepy Arthur, so he snuggled in nice and deep.

Gilbert also got the nice addition of having a nice little heat pack attached to his chest, snoring quietly, but those fucking feet.

He really needs socks his feet are so fucking cold.

In this sleepy state, neither really realised that either was snuggling the other, sleep tends to make you forget stuff, I can say first hand.

But when Matthew, another insomniac in a family of them, found them, both usually being people that woke pretty early, if they slept at all, still asleep at about 9 in the morning, he could not resist snapping a photo of it because d a m n.

But everyone was awake now, an oddity for sure, and they were hungry, the groceries from yesterday had almost been depleted and they ate what they could from the bare cupboards and the sad looking pantry.

Beans on toast was what they all ate, but as previously mentioned, everyone here ate much more than a normal human would do so, mainly due to them being nations, and also because people like Alfred were constantly hungry, they were just built a bit different.

So he woke the two sleepy bastards, with great difficulty I might add, Gilbert woke up easily enough and gave him a look that very clearly said "We don't talk about this if you want to have your kidneys inside you and not outside you."

While the rare times England actually slept, he slept hard, and waking him up was a difficult task, both managed to do it, and when he realised that that "thing" he had been cuddling to all night was Gilbert, he also gave Matt a look that said "Shut up or I will show you why both the devil and I wear red."

And Gilbert a look that said "We will discuss this later."

This was only managed to be conveyed through looks because the Germanics as a whole had gotten very good at non verbal communication, because whatever communication was actually achieved, was usually incredibly filtered and a bit too formal.

"Dad wake up theres no more food again."

"How? Didn't we just get food yesterday?"

"Yea but we have 14 people now and we eat enough for at least 20."

When they both decided to get their asses downstairs, they were greeted by the customary chaos that comes with having 14 people in one house, Peter was hanging upside down on the sofa with Wy, for some unfathomable reason, and it appeared they were having some sort of competition, lots of smack talk was involved. Very creative smack talk too.

"Your teeth are wonkier than a buck toothed snake you little British cunt."

"You can't talk your a mosquitoes shits sisters mothers father in laws dentures!"

To avoid further confusion we shall stop elaborating from there, but I assume you get the picture clearly enough.

Scotland was fully awake this time, Wales was not, and looked very happy to murder North who kept pestering him about something, Ireland was manning the toaster with the bravery that only comes about when you've exploded 3 toasters in the last year, Jack was sleepy and hungry, the same applies for Matt, Eleanor, Raj and Alfred.

The rest were just hungry.

"Ah look who decided ta join us, had a nice little cuddle did ya?"

That, that was remarkably blunt even by Scotland standards, really by any standards, and so naturally at least someone had to start laughing, well the someones, Peter had fallen off the sofa due to laughing, much to a triumphant Wendy's teasing, Matt after reading the text from Brighid was not expecting to need to get two of his family members laid already, Scotland wasn't laughing but he had that shit eating grin that only younger brothers could have.

Raj looked vaguely concerned because the toaster had started to smoke as Brighid laughed at her brothers misfortune, like she didn't have the exact same fucking problem.

Wales, quite often being in possession of The Braincell™️ decided to ignore all of that and said "We ran out of food, or we would have let you two sleep a bit longer, who knows when is the next time we'll be able to get him to sleep for more than 4 hours."

Swiftly removing the plug from the smoking toaster, not really wanting to clean up the mess caused by a toaster explosion, India continued "Apparently we forgot that 14 people eat a lot, and some people here eat like cows, and I don't think you've been grocery shopping for at least 2 months, so yes we do need to go to get our groceries."

Dismissively the resident Arthur said "Sure, sure, we'll go."

Mentioning to make tea, for only an absolute psychopath can wake up properly without tea, to find that there was no more tea, it having all been imbibed by far too many people.

"For fucks sake how many cups of tea did you shits drink so far?"

Mentally tallying the number, India came up with "10 at the very least, though probably more knowing the crowd."

Grumbling, people said he had tea for blood, it wasn't exactly that bad, Turkey did, but a deprivation of tea in the morning is never a good thing if you wish to keep your spleen inside your body, especially because he knew for a fact that he had at least 15 teabags left, who the fuck would do this to him? Well he could think of 13 people in this house from the top of his head so maybe it wasn't the most surprising.

A little more pissed than he was 5 minutes ago, Arthur rallied up the fam and asked who wanted to go with him to the big Tesco's in town, nobody but Prussia volunteered, for some reason (cough cough gay) and India wanted to come along mainly because he said he couldn't trust either of their taste buds, both having been destroyed long ago, and he was going to be one of the few that cooked so he knew what they needed.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?"

The question was aimed at England and Prussia who had both already worn their coats and shoes to go shopping.

"No."

And that was that, no one questioned it and they left the house, and loaded themselves into England's crusty old car, England driving, India called dibs on the front seat, leaving Gilbert to choose between the three back seats, one looked like it had a bloodstain on it, and the other looked like somebody both shat and vomited on it, so go chose the middle seat and hoped to hell that England was a careful driver because the seatbelt didn't work.

Turns out that for all the shit he did, England really was a careful driver, albeit a vocal and bad mouthed one, cussing the one guy who was on the wrong side in a roundabout so profusely that Gilbert could feel his ears shrivel up from the blasphemy, getting into the local big Tesco with old english cuss words ringing in his head.

They had to take one of those big trellises because they knew they were to be buying a lot of food, and England, being the stingy cunt he tended to be, took as much yellow sticker stuff as he could, that was not perishable at least, he did not want salmonella again, who can blame him.

Checking the very long list on his phone, India first fucked off to get vegetables, England had a load of oranges and lemons but you can't really eat those as a meal, so enter in a lot of chillies, garlic, onion and coriander, peppers, a fuck tonne of tomatoes, and mushrooms, grumbling all the time about how expensive they were.

Prussia went off to obtain the meat he needed, which was 6 chickens, (Arthur knew a butcher who would get him discounted lamb)

"How the fuck am I meant to get 6 chickens and not look suspicious!" Whisper yelled Gilbert.

"You're always suspicious you dumbass now go get the fucking chicken."

"Why me?"

"Because I need to get other things!"

Gilbert huffed like a small child and stormed off, and India looking over from the vegetable isle was wondering when the two would get their act together, because this was humourous in its stupidity.

England went to go get the canned goods (ie baked beans, tuna, tomatoes) and the sweet stuff, a lot of biscuits, ginger ones and Bourbon ones seemed to be the most he took, finally meeting the other two in the international foods isle.

Ah rice, a staple food of a lot of countries, a 10 kilo pack ranged from 15 to 25 pounds, and was of varying qualities ranging from burnt rubber to utter divine bits of carbohydrate.

And once again being the stingy cunt he is, Arthur wanted to get the 15 pound packet because "Its not like half of us can taste it anyways!"

I mean he had a point there but he really was fucking blunt about it, India did not want to buy the rubbery shit because he wanted to make biryiani and you need basmati rice otherwise it's all crusty and he did know that most of everyone had either non functional taste buds or they were a but malfunctional, but the texture was something they could all feel.

"Yes but the texture is so bheanskiankh" (directly translates to cows eye but means shit)

"Its just fine?"

Gilbert interjected before anything else could happen "How about we compromise. India what is the best rice for whatever you're planning to make."

"Pakistani basmati."

England pointed at the price tag which was quite a lot to be fair, 24 pounds.

"And I understand that you want the cheapest option, ja?"

It was the Laila rice, or the Tesco basic rice, 15 quid both of them, well technically 14.99 but it was close enough.

"Right so is there any basmati (he butchered the pronunciation) that is cheaper than 25 pounds?"

Searching the aisle, one was located, it was the normal basmati rice for 21 pounds, and with a lot of glaring from the two parties, and Gilbert questioning his life decisions once again, they went to thee checkout, pushing the very heavy trolley.

It amassed to nearly 300 pounds.

Lots of grumbling later, and grocery tetris, they all managed to fit into the car as well as all thee stuff they dragged along with them, prussia smooshed in between rice and bags of vegetables.

Finally getting home as it was nearly dark, Gilbert was hungry Arthur was not, so after unloading said groceries, he raided them, making off with some beans and and chicken slices to consume at once in his room.

Once he remembered where that was first.

Ah fuck it England's room will do just fine, so he indeed did consume, Den found him there and berated him like only a truly concerned homie can, and dragged him down to the living room.

Today was halfway decent weather, which meant that everyone who wasn't used to cold temperature was still inside being all cosy in a blanket someone had rummaged from somewhere that was not full of holes, while Matt, Matthias, Peter, Alfred and the British isles siblings were outside doing something that was being observed from the inside, and said thing was not exactly describable, Alasdair seemed to be sticking knives into a tree and having Peter climb it.

Jack and Wendy were no where to be seen.

#The heam writes #These can be read as standalone to be fair #Arthur is snuggly guy #Pruk

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stone-man-warrior · 4 years

Text

January 28, 2021: 7:38 pm:

===================================================

https://twitter.com/zachjourno/status/1354832760498761738

It’s about her coat. Has a lapel radius where the center is way to the right out of view, off of the coat, however, Nancy’s right breast (money) is located about one quarter of the circumference of the radial measurement of the lapel towards the outer part of the radial line. That arranges the third button down located at about nipple central of the left breast.

Here, below, we see the contact person for whatever money is to be doled out from Pelosi’s backdoor. Quarterflash on the pull down of the Zack Purser Brown Twitter mention, and you have “Right kind of love, from the Brown Backdoor Purse”.

(Use “Breast Preference Perspective” to know left from right on this one, as a guide in dark places)

Quarterflash: Right Kind of Love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ms3D5UnYu-I

youtube

Quarterflash

Right Kind of Love

Babe, your love surrounds me but never gives me half a chance I need a little heart and affection ‘cause love needs a little romance And we’ll never ever make it if you’re pushin’ me You gotta back up baby or I might leave You gotta show me, hold me, and let love breath tonight Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love And I’ll be yours tonight I’ll be yours Baby, you want some kind of promise, well, nothin’ is forever these days Lovers come and go, friends bought and sold, everything blows away You know everything is changin’, baby, overnight You gotta hold on to love but not too tight You gotta see it, see it’s not so long but alright Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love And I’ll be yours tonight I’ll be yours Just tell me that love is right and look me in the eye I’ve gotta know your heart tonight before I give away a piece of my life Oh! Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Oh! Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love Give me the right kind of love, baby Give me the right kind of love . .

Bonus:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eaTA_PoayFc

youtube

=====

Look on Twitter over the past three to five days on major network and government accounts to see more introductory set-up work done that leads to “Guardians of the Gallaxy” for feeding the baby that is the Canadian terror army led by SAG from US congress, and look on Twitter today for “Mom” stories that are there to help guide terror funding accountants to where the Breast is at.

============

I am being prevented from making these important additions to this terror comm

There was a Tweet from BBC news UK news UK about an archbishop Martin. The tweet is gone from Twitter and the stole screenshot during the hack session, so, I was referring to a BBC news tweet there, I can‘t show you because there is no one watching the baby, and no help has come.

==============

9:54 pm:

I am being throttled. Very difficult to post this information.

Tenth try:

Hacker deleted the screen shot that goes here, it’s gone.

===============================================

1-29-2021: 12:10 am:

https://twitter.com/BBCNews/status/1354956015620542467

There is the missing tweet from BBC news UK.

I still don‘t have the screenshot I made while being hacked in effort to preserve the work I had done to make the additional information in the Pelosi Breast Fund information.

===============================================

It’s taken more than an hour to arrange this post, and try to get it posted while the Centurylink hacker is there live preventing me from making the posts.

You should be seeing some Twitter stories, all have airplanes or a baby, and explanation of Gas Money in the photos above.

That little blue “Save” button was being made not to work. The contents of my screenshot folder was going all kinds of crazy while attempting to put the information that was lost back together with screenshots made before I had to turn off the computer and do many scans with Norton that does not work.

============

10:50 pm:

Please refer to previous post from the past day or two featuring Mitt Romney and something I described as a “Two-Pointer” for finding more information about where this sudden influx of Democrat terror funding money may have been sourced.

========

10:56 pm:

https://twitter.com/BBCPolitics/status/1354862075311497217

“Boris goes to Scotland”

There are some videos of this event where Boris is featured wearing a “nanny apron“ and is all adorned in protective wear.

What you need to see, or imagine to make the communication heard, understood, is that he is at the Boutique where the nitrous and other poison gasses are being made. He is symbolically “holding the baby”, the one that is going to poop once that money gets used the way he and his US Congressional cohorts are arranging that it will be used, for making poison Corona gasses.

He is prepared not to get shit faced when the baby finally does go.

OSHA approved nanny wear.

===============

11:06 pm:

Today’s computer hack came with a new pop-up window, a small one, (not shown), It was too scary, I deleted it fast.

About 2 inches wide, 1 inch tall, was there on that desert scene covering the hills.

It demanded that I “Activate Cloud Backup”. There was an “Activate Cloud” button, and there was a “X” to close the window, so I used the “X”.

That one happened twice today, and was accompanied by that other, bigger pop-up that says “Create strong passwords”. I closed both, and ran some scans, but the software is fake, it never finds anything wrong with the computer. Twenty years and it has never once solved a security issue, always says “no threats detected” after a scan.

The Symantec company has been hijacked by the same people who took over Centurylink Internet and Telephone company.

no one is safe to use the internet, the software only keeps the computer working so that the terror army can manipulate and control the users, and to collect as much personal information as is possible, while hunting down everyone’s contact lists, or email recipients when we send notes to bosses, family, and friends.

The hacker tonight was inside of my screenshots folder at the same time I was in my screenshots folder, I could see the files as they were being moved around inside of the folder as the targeted screenshots were deleted. I estimate the bastard erased three to five of the screenshots I had made within the immediate time prior to seeing those screenshots all move around inside the folder when the Tumblr “Save” button would not function, and I was trying to piece the information back together.

Please send help.

The poison gasses are more powerful than they have ever been. The gasses make it nearly impossible to stay awake, eyes are very heavy, want to sleep all day, and that is what happened, I slept all day mostly.

=============

11:27 pm:

Also, the makeshift blue tooth meter I made a few years ago makes some noise every day, usually in short bursts that last about a half hour at a time, but today was a solid high reading on the meter... it does not do much, it can show intensity of a signal is all it can do, today was intense on the meter all day. It’s quiet right now, only a small beep every once in while.

================

11:35 pm:

I have story about a communication device I found many years ago. It was a small thing, about the size of a walnut, was a shape like almost a lima bean, and lt looked like a small rock. That thing I kept until it was stolen by terror intruders who found it on my desk. But I had it for a couple of days about in 2006. The sounds that came of that were of a group of people who were trapped, and sceeming. I heard one person describe what was happening, and the description was of a roofers hot tar trailer, the kind that has wheels, and there is hot tar in the bucket. The description was that there was a man standing on the bucket, while some people where on the ground around the trailer, leaning against the trailer of hot tar as the man was on top of it. They were saying that small amounts of the tar were spilling, or being thrown onto those people who were on the ground. That was the screaming that was coming from that communication device that looked like a small rock. I was glad that the terror bastards stole it because the sounds were horrible for those few days. There was no way turn it off. I have seen two of those kinds of rock kidney been shaped things, but not lately.

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rosesandbloodstains · 6 years

Text

Two years. It took him two years to become useful to Marcello in ways other than handling paperwork and earing money through prostitution. When he wasn’t doing grunt work, he was training relentlessly in the art of self defense and support attacks. Due to his small frame and obvious lack of power, he would never be meant for any full offense position, and Virus was fine with that. He much preferred to be at someone’s side, offering assistance where necessary, though it landed him in the infirmary more often than not.

Virus spent an almost sinful amount of time in the infirmary. He was always getting hurt on missions, and if he did something wrong, he was hurt by Marcello. During his two years of training, his personality and his values completely changed.

Instead of being eager to speak with anyone who might be kind to him, he became more withdrawn and quiet. Instead of thinking he deserved all the pain that came to him from the bullies in the outside world, he became angry, vengeful, even.

As Marcello gave him speeches about how the outside world was impure, unclean, filled with people who did not deserve to live due to their indiscretions against mankind. Bullies, drunkards, rapists, liars, non-certified murderers, they all littered up what could be a beautiful world and made it ugly. The job of everyone in Cuori Malati was to cleanse the earth of these evildoers and make it whole again.

Never more will the pure people of this earth be brought down by the terrible people who think they’re better than all the rest. Virus would absolutely do his part to free everyone of the bullies, the abusive drunks, the rapists, the pedophiles, all the assholes who thought they ran the world just because they were under some illusion that they were better than everyone else.

The very thought of these kinds of people running amok in the world made Virus’ heart burn with anger. No one deserved to be hurt because others are too high and mighty to help them. No should die because of another’s stupid mistakes. No deserved to feel the pain that he had gone through, and he would work the hardest he could to make sure everyone else lived happy lives free of the pain caused by awful people.

So when Marcello’s brother, Angelo, planned to blow up an elementary school during learning hours after learning three of the teachers there were pedophiles who had never been charged for their crimes, Virus knew what he had to do.

Yes, those teachers would soon meet their end. They’d meet their end in a gruesome, bloody way, but at that time, at midnight while Angelo was setting up the bombs, Virus had to take care of what was, at that time, the greater evil. While the man’s back was turned, Virus stabbed him in the neck, aiming to sever his spine, then continued to stab him thirty-seven times while the man was down, reeling from the first hit. To make sure he had finished him off, Virus stole the man’s gun and shot him in his head and heart before running off to headquarters, crying his eyes out from what he had done in a moment of rage. Marcello was less than forgiving over the incident, and who could blame him? He’d lost his own brother in a lapse of judgement from someone who was just promoted from being a grunt.

Demotion and three months of the heavy grunt work wasn’t enough, though. Upon hearing his brother had died, Marcello dragged Virus down into an interrogation room, not for questioning, oh no, but for torture.

Everyone in the building heard the screams, and they lasted for hours. The crying, the sobbing, the begging- oh, the begging was the worst part of it- echoed through the halls of the large building as Marcello tortured him for hours on end until Virus passed out from the pain.

In the end, Virus was left with many scars and new disabilities.

It started off with a bout of rage. Marcello had thrown him to the ground and climbed on top of the smaller male and wailed on him mercilessly with his fists. Insults were thrown at him left and right. “You scum! He did nothing wrong! He followed orders and you killed him like the very people we set out after!” “This is the punishment you get for being an idiot!” “How dare you disobey me?! How dare you take my right hand?!”

After the beatings came what Virus considered the very worst part. Each one of his nails had been ripped off with pliers, slowly. They still sat on the metal tray with chunks of spoiled meat attached to them days after the incident as Marcello never bothered to clean up after himself, and Virus nearly cried at the sight. He had also been cut open while he was awake and suffered through excruciating, unneeded surgery as Marcello dug around inside him. No anesthetics were used. Virus lost his appendix, his gallbladder, half his stomach, and half a kidney. He passed out shortly after Marcello had opened him up, though.

All of this landed him in the infirmary for almost three months, lying on a thin, dirty cot with a broken look in his eyes. He refused to talk to anyone. He refused to eat or drink to the point that Felicity had to stick tubes inside him to provide him with nutrition and hydration.

Everyone tried to be nice to him. They started a betting pool on who would make Virus smile again, winner would take all, but whenever anyone tried to make him laugh or even speak, they were met with nothing more than a blank, empty stare. It wasn’t long before everyone gave up on him.

They never figured the person that would get him to talk and smile again would be one of the angriest, most hotheaded people in the guild- Veniziano. Perhaps the speaking part should have been expected since they both spent most of their time in the infirmary anyway, and he and Virus had spoken before the incident and had gotten along fine enough to be considered “friends” of some sort, but Veniziano was never the type for long conversations, small talk, emotional support… in short, he wasn’t the best guy to talk to unless you wanted to be insulted or roasted in a playful or hurtful manner depending on his mood. It was such a shock that Veniziano was the first person Virus opened up to that Felicity nearly fainted from shock upon seeing the two together, Veniziano gently rocking Virus in his arms and patting his back while the other bawled his eyes out. A quick glare sent her way sent Felicity scurrying out of the room, as she knew that Veniziano, with his basic medical training, could take care of all that Virus needed at that time.

Soon, it became commonplace that Veniziano would be studying medical research at Virus’ bedside while the pinkette slept for long periods of time. It was just as common for him to stay at his side once he woke and chit chat about nothing in particular. About a month in, V switched from medical textbooks to books on prosthetics and engineering, and could be heard making plans with Virus to get him up and running again, better than ever before.

Virus loved hearing those promises. He loved the attention V gave him. He loved being close to someone for once in his life, and not being punched for it. He could feel himself growing more attached to this guy, and eventually dubbed him with the nickname “Veni” after feeling it was okay to try to be closer to him. Veniziano seemed to open up more as they grew closer, as well. He became less angry, more talkative, and he and Virus shared secrets about their lives they had to swear not to reveal to anyone else. It grew to the point that the two spent all their free time together, though it wasn’t much. V spent most of his time studying while Virus went into a different profession in the guild, one that he could handle that didn’t require typing, writing, or getting hurt.

He had gone into learning the ways of torture.

#virus #a bitter and bloody backstory

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seiya234 · 7 years

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Four Times “5:30 In The Morning” Bit Nick In The Ass (and One Time It Was Worth It)

aka my BIG fic for yuletide! enjoy smol fandom!

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1: 5:31am

Unlike Maree, Nick had never spent a night at his Aunt Irene’s house, full of more children than beds to hold them.

Unlike Maree, when his friends spent the night, they would usually fall asleep in their chairs or on the floor, or, one memorable time, up a tree.

Unlike Maree, who before there was Robbie there was Jeremy and Edward, Nick had never had a girlfriend before.

Thus, there were some aspects to sharing a bed that Nick had never considered.

Like the fact that his girlfriend, who Maree once called “a Dainty Miss Whose Farts Smell Like Flowers” snored like a cross between a freight train and a death metal concert.

Like the fact that Roddy not only stole the covers and left him waking up in the night shivering, but she also would stick her cold, clammy feet on his legs to steal what remaining heat was left to him.

And most of all, like the fact that her limbs would go flying in the night, so that not only was he usually relegated to the furthest edge of the bed, but one memorable time he actually woke up in time to get an elbow to the nose.

2. 5:33am

Nick was awoken by a sharp tugging pain on his ear. That particular pinch and twist, delivered with a bite of nail, that went straight to his hind brain even if would take another three hours for the rest of him to wake up, could only be from one person…

“Mrefreee.”

“Get up Nick.”

This was grossly unfair. Maree knew that it was going to be at least two pots of coffee, one and a half if he really pushed it, before he was even intelligible.

“Mfghght.”

A particularly sharp twist wasn’t enough to get him up but it definitely made him flip over from his stomach to his back.

“Mff.”

“Nichothodes Euthandor Timosus Benigedy Koryfoides-“

Oh god what had he done-

“Your girlfriend? You know, the one who lives literally on another world? A world separate from ours?“

Oh yes. Roddy. Good old Roddy. They had said their goodbyes last night. Silly Maree.

“Ffmgwethdk.”

A piercing pain went through him and travelled down his spine, which must mean that Maree was really using her nails.

“MREE!”

“Your girlfriend, who loves you, and you only get to see a few times a year, is getting ready to leave. She is currently on the couch waiting for her ride and she is looking sad and I think Little Miss is doing her best not to cry.”

Sudden cold, as his horrible, awful, terrible no good sister ripped the covers away from the bed and tossed them on the ground.

“Nnnnghaet.”

Nick managed to work his way through the centimeter of eye crud that had collected in the night to blearily peer at his sister… or more accurately, the very sharp nail that was less than a breath away from his face.

“I have a coffee pot going, but you are going to get up, and get your ass downstairs, and sit with Roddy until she leaves. You are going to hold her hand, and I don’t know, give her a hug or something, but you are going to be in her presence and with her and acting like her partner.”

Nick considered staying in bed.

Nick was kind of dumb when he woke up, but he wasn’t suicidal.

Maree sighed as Nick managed to sit up. “Here, I’ll help you downstairs at least.”

3: 5:35

A sharp cry; not quite a scream but a little too close to comfort, woke Nick up.

The first few times it happened, Nick wasn’t sure what was happening, or how to fix it. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure if what he was doing was helping all that much.

Next to him, Roddy was curled up into as tight of a ball as she could, clutching her hip as it radiated pain that Nick could practically see coming off of her in waves.

Roddy had of course explained to him about the hurt lady; about how she had obtained the woman’s knowledge.

About why her hip would still to this day, without warning, break into screaming, blinding pain that would last a second or an hour or, one time, a week.

“No knowledge comes free I suppose,” Roddy had told him once, her teeth grit, face pale and covered in sweat.

Nick was of course, very selfish, and he personally thought the whole thing was bullshit. The first time, he didn’t quite understand but he got it. Magic… magic was magic. And magic came with a price.

But a price repaid over and over again was just fucking vindictive and useless and mean.

Gently, trying his best not to jostle his girlfriend, Nick took Roddy into his arms and held her as tight as he could.

4. 5:37

A jab in his kidneys.

“Mmmf?”

Another jab in his kidneys and…

Wait.

Why was a large portion of the sheets wet?

Why was Roddy turning on the lights and swearing?

Why was there a weird wet spot on part of his pajama pant-

Oh.

Oh god.

Oh god now.

Nick could literally feel part of his brain shutting down as Roddy swore, quickly and under her breath.

“Well damn. There goes these sheets.”

“Nnngh.”

“Nick, can you go get the hot water bottle? It should be under the sink in the bathroom?”

There was no way he could do that, could do anything connected to this-

His wonderful, darling girlfriend leaned in close to his face.

“It’s fetch me my bottle,” Roddy said sweetly, “or change these sheets.”

Truly, this was the nightmare scenario.

5. 5:39

Nick hadn’t slept a wink all night.

But to be fair, his wife hadn’t either. And while Nick was still after all these years quite proudly selfish, in this case he would admit that Roddy had had the harder job of the two of them.

Though he had tried to point out that three hours of labor was really pretty good, according to what the doctors had told them, and Roddy had chucked a buzzer at him in response.

There was a little red bundle, freshly cleaned up and wailing fit to bring the house down, placed into Roddy’s arms.

“She has your nose,” Roddy said.

Nick looked.

Diana Marina Mallory had a surprisingly large thatch of black hair on her head, all ten fingers and toes… and a face that was more squished than that of a pug.

“Are you sure she doesn’t have yours?” he asked. (Later, Roddy would tell him that he actually touched the bridge of his nose, “like you forgot that aquiline beak on your face”)

Any other time, Roddy would have given him a swat on the arm. But here and now, she just laughed and took his hand to guide it to their daughter’s head.

5:30 in the morning was miserable.

5:30 in the morning was going to continue to be miserable.

But, Nick was starting to think the rest of the morning would be worth it

#magid #magids #diana wynne jones #nick mallory #maree mallory #roddy hyde #dwj #seiya writes!#deep secret #the merlin conspiracy

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