#and deserves none of this cruelty

[loganhater]

how about you be nicer to roman buddy logan you asshole shithead

[roselites]

i think we've gotten so used to tv dialogue being expository or a device to move plot along that we've forgotten that people.......talk like that. us. we. we make stupid jokes and cross the line and don't realize until 0.5 seconds later. we deflect. we're cranky because of reasons unrelated to the person we're speaking to. we lash out. we say shitty things because we're feeling defensive or had a lapse in judgment or are plain scared. we have conversations that go nowhere, interrupted conversations, conversations where two people are having fundamentally different conversations and therefore have no hope of understanding one other in that particular moment…

the pitt respects its audience enough not to tell us what it wants to say in every single scene. some of the messaging is pretty clear: hey. we're in the middle of a hellish medical crisis. hey. your doctors and nurses are still not over 2020-2021. masks are good. stop listening to fuckass "wellness" quacks with a podcast. but other things aren't so cut and dry. and the beautiful thing? is that it doesn't place an explicit moral value on what the main characters say or do. santos is allowed to push past javadi's explicitly stated boundaries without being portrayed as evil. because most people like that aren't. they're just mildly annoying, and then you get to know them better and realize that they're so much more. (and when they report shit? believe them.)

robby gets to preach the merits of grieving and looking out for yourself while absolutely not doing it himself and what the narrative doesn't do? frame him as a hypocrite.

it puts the issue of david in front of you and doesn't tell you to be team robby or team mckay because you have both povs in front of you.

langdon is his own litmus test.

basically, the pitt operates under the assumption that we - the people watching the show, the people interested in this story - are both objective and compassionate viewers. some of us are really letting down the side, but you know what, that's fine. we live and we learn and we grow. and it's freaking cool that the people behind this show believe it enough to challenge our assumptions.

(but also... maybe start realizing that the characters are all subjectively speaking from their own interests, perspectives, backstories, etc. and not every interaction has to end in a tally of "who is right & who is wrong in this scenario." good tv writing doesn't work like that and neither does life.)

[inseparabiles]

dealing you this like radioactive contraband before I go back to pretending I can't draw

[citrusbunnies]

Hi, I hope you're doing well. ❤️ I'm writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for help. My family is in a very danger situation due to the ongoing war, and I've launched a GoFundMe campaign to save them. 😢 Could you please share my campaign post from my profile? Each share could be a lifeline for my family. 🙏 Feel free to share it in any other social media platform if you would like. Our campaign has been verified by operation olive branch, and is entry number 26 on their spreadsheet. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you in advance for all of your support and kindness.

.

[beloveds-embrace]

When Konig returns, How do you think he will react when he realizes that reader is limping and has a prosthetic??

Would he blame himself? would blame and fight with others??

-🍒anon

It’d be a mix of both, but he largely (and understandably) blames them the most. There is disliking your spouse, and then there is the cruelty that has been inflicted on you.

König didn’t even notice it at first- not until you stood at last.

The faint click against the marble floors froze him. His eyes dropped, breath hitching at the gleam of metal where your foot should have been. Cold and foreign, it should have never been on you. He’s only seen it on soldiers.

Your grip on the cane now in your hand- how did he not notice it?- tightened. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.

But König couldn’t stop staring. His eyes traced the straps digging into your thigh, the unevenness of your gait. He imagined the pain you must have endured, the surgeries, the adjustments, the raw skin and bruising. He imagined you lying in some cold room, scared and alone, with no one there to hold your hand.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low and guttural, barely human.

“They all did,” you said quietly. “You. Them. All of you.”

The words hit harder than any blade could.

König staggered back a step, the breath knocked from him. Shame clawed up his throat, but it couldn’t overpower the guilt. You’re right, he wanted to say. You’re right, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.

Instead, he knelt again.

Slowly, deliberately, he sank to one knee before you, lowering himself as if in supplication. “Mylady,” he rasped, voice raw. “I have failed you.”

You flinched, your fingers tightening on the cane again, but you didn’t pull away.

“I failed you when I left,” he continued, head bowed. “And I failed you by leaving you in their care. I will never forgive myself for it.”

“You think kneeling will fix this?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I won’t leave you again. Not unless you send me away.”

You faltered. For not the first time, König saw something- grief, fire, exhaustion—flicker in your eyes. But then you turned.

And when you stumbled, he was there.

He steadied you without a word, and though you flinched, you didn’t pull away.

The days after König’s return were heavy with tension.

He didn’t leave your side- not when you struggled with the prosthetic, not when your cane trembled, not when your breaths came shallow and pained.

And you let him.

You let him carry the books you’d occasionally read, adjust the chairs, and brace you when the steps proved too much. It wasn’t spoken. There were no apologies. Just König- silent, patient, and steady.

And the others saw it.

“She lets you help her.�� Kyle said once, disbelieving. But König ignored him and continued on his path to your room, carrying a tray of tea he made himself.

I do not force it, König thought, focused on adjusting the padding of your prosthetic. The straps had rubbed you raw again. He fixed them without asking.

Price bristled at him another day, and König focused especially hard to ignore him. “You weren’t here. You left her.”

I did not let her rot, if anyone were to listen to König’s thoughts, they would immediately sense his utter disdain and disgust. You did.

Johnny tried to step in once while König waited for the tea to boil. “We tried—”

“When it was too late.” König spoke at last, lip curling under his mask. “You watched her shatter and did nothing. And now you ask why she won’t let you put her back together?”

Johnny had no answer.

None of them had an answer.

And König didn’t wait for one.

He returned to you, and looped a tiny little flower he picked on the way into your hair. “Better, mylady?”

You nodded, hesitant. “… better.”

It was not as if you forgave him- you didn’t.

But König didn’t ask. He didn’t demand or beg, or force himself into your space. He didn’t push you for it, didn’t demand it like a starving man clawing for scraps.

He stayed.

He noticed every wince, every tremor, and fixed what he could- polished the cane, adjusted the straps, moved the chairs- without asking for permission or praise.

And when you wept in the conservatory late at night, when the pain in your leg and the ache in your heart became too much, he didn’t try to hush you. He didn’t tell you to be strong or remind you of how far you’d come.

He simply sat there, guarding the door, letting you cry until the exhaustion dragged you under.

And then, when you woke the next morning, the cane would already be waiting by your bedside, polished and steady.

Just like him.

[iidilio]

ohhhh I want to see uchihas men when they want to confess to their crush or smt 😫🤭 (if it's too much just do obito and madara lol)

[ 🌸 ] sure, sure lmaooo

characters: itachi uchiha; obito uchiha ; madara uchiha

genre: fluff ;;

warnings: none;;

…

..

.

Itachi Uchiha

—Oh, my man

—Well, if he were less shy, he’d confess his feelings without a problem

—Which would be great

—But the thing is, the guy isn’t just shy—he’s also clumsy when it comes to socializing and interacting

—And even more so when it comes to flirting or giving compliments

“What are you looking at?”

“I… uhh… your legs look good in those jeans…”

”…Do you think they’d look better without them?”

“Why would you take off your legs?”

—Bless his humble heart

—He’s not doing it on purpose, I swear

—The poor guy is just a little awkward

—Anyway!

—Months would go by as he tried to gather the courage to finally tell you how he feels

—Though it’s easier said than done (poor guy keeps stumbling over his words)

—He’s also trying to picture what it would be like to have you as his lover

—His clan would accept you, though not without some resistance, even if it’s mild

—He’s just pulling a few strings

—And oh, how bold, he thinks

—He’s doing all of this as if he were sure you feel the same way

—His poor heart beats for you, and you have no clue

—Lmao

—Anyway!

—Don’t be surprised when one day he invites you to train, only for you to find him sitting on a blanket with food, offering you a soft smile with slightly flushed cheeks

—The sight alone is enough to make your knees feel weak and oh—!

—The butterflies fluttering in your stomach

—Some say the best way to confess to someone is under a cherry blossom tree, but Itachi doesn’t think so. Just having you close, whispering tenderly what he feels and every promise his heart has made to you in the silence of that afternoon, is enough for him

…

Obito Uchiha

—Haha

—Oh, isn’t it funny?

—How this man feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he might just explode

—His voice is surprisingly soft and light. Whether you place him in an AU where nothing happened or he’s in Akatsuki…

—Anyway!

—In a normal, soft AU where nothing ever went wrong,

—He’s always trying to start a conversation with you, no matter how clumsy or silly it is

—Trying to gather enough courage to tell you how he feels, but—if Obito is in Akatsuki, he will never tell you how he feels

—Lmao

—But he will protect you until his plan to trap everyone in an illusion is close to completion

—He thinks you deserve the entire world and a reality far from cruelty in the dream of the Infinite Tsukuyomi

—Literally, his idea of creating a fictional world just for you only grows stronger

—You are his strength and his life, even if he never tells you

—Because for some reason, he decided that was the better choice

—Lmao

—He believes that in that fictional world, everything will be better, and maybe the two of you can have a story together

—And that, if you dream of him, he can give you the happiness you deserve—the one he could never give you in this world corrupted by death

—He thinks this world is too rotten for something like love to bloom between you

—And maybe…

—Just maybe, he feels himself slowly regretting it inside

—When his fingers move involuntarily, yearning and aching to caress your cheek, or when he daydreams about kissing your lips because…

—oh my god!

—Why do you have to be so beautiful?

—Why did he have the misfortune of the woman he loved having to exist in such a cruel world?

—To him, you are an angel

—A beauty that must be protected from the world’s cruelty

—For Obito Uchiha, there was no better way to show his feelings for you than by fighting to keep you away from the harsh reality that threatened your existence

…

Madara Uchiha

—Aahh

—Madara is a funny case

—He thinks you are worthy of his affection

—He also thinks you’re one in a million

—Why?

—Because you managed to catch his attention—something no other woman ever did before

—Your charisma, your eyes, your flushed cheeks, your soft lips that seem as gentle as the fluffy clouds decorating the sky fill him with a tenderness he has never known before

—You are so beautiful that he feels he doesn’t deserve you—because he fears corrupting your purity

—He fears taking away that innocent, soft glow that adorns your gentle eyes

—Even though he knows you are a strong woman, he will always have that fear

—Believe him—nothing like this had ever happened to him before

—Madara Uchiha? Afraid of hurting someone? Since when?

—And yet, there he was

—Looking at you with a tenderness that even he found strange while he listened to every word and giggle you let out as you told him something that—had it been anyone else—he would have found mundane and a waste of time

—You completely consumed his attention—he realized

—And he didn’t complain about it

—In fact, he liked it

—Lmao

—He even accepted that the butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart jumped when you smiled or laughed at something he said, the way he, in the privacy of his mind, carefully stored every memory—every little detail that might seem insignificant but was so important to him—

—To him, every sigh of yours was a gift

—And that’s how he realized that he could never be with anyone else but you

—It was you, or no one else

—So don’t act so surprised when this man asks for your and your parents’ permission to court you

Me watching that I still have to finish eighty requests to finish all of them

[crunchyspositivybubble]

To each and everyone of my followers, I'd like for you to pay close attention about the post I'm about to make.

The gofundme above me belongs to Shebab family, who's accounts you may follow: @dedomohamed1992 and @monamohammed3 .

First, let me tell you a bit about Shebab family. The family consists of 6 members; Muhammad Shebab (26), his wife Mona Shebab (24 years old), their two daughters, Iman Shebab (6) and Toleen Shebab (5) and Muhammad's father and mother.

As of right now, the entire family is forced to endure harsh winter under one tent, with very little to none supplies.

Please, look at these sweet young girls and look at what they have to endure. Look at their innocent young faces and ask yourselves, what did they do to deserve this cruelty?

In the gofundme post linked above, it's been mentioned that they contacted hepatitis due to the pollution. Not only that, but they also have to endure absence of food, water and proper shelter. They are growing up in the worst conditions imaginable for children to grow up in.

As of right now, their fundraiser's goal still hasn't been reached. In their fundraiser, it's been stated that for the Shebab family to leave Gaza, they need to collect $30,000 for the six people in their family.

Currently, their fundraiser only reached $8,281.

To anyone reading this post, I urge you to offer your support to Shebab family in any way you can; donate, reblog or share their fundraiser. Please give them a chance for their voices to be heard far and wide and help them save their family from the raging war and famine.

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — prologue | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus is his own warning, mentions of death, elitism, self harm (Coryo burns his wrist)

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 eight year old Coryo finds out who his soulmate is and his feelings about it

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 this is the first official post about this series that I started on a whim! I am excited to see where this goes, please give me feedback, thank you!

series taglist | series masterlist | navigation

It started with Sejanus. Despite being friends with the boy, eight-year-old Coriolanus Snow couldn't help but loathe the fact the boy had District blood.

Sejanus' presence in the Capitol Academy was an insult to all of Capitol. He couldn't comprehend how it was all allowed before he heard the whispers. Sturbo Plinth bought his way in with money.

Money. The one thing a Snow should be entitled to and yet has none of. Even the power his name held was dwindling. Coriolanus will do anything to make sure ‘Snow lands on top'.

With that vow, Coryo gently brushed his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist. A number, something of significance for his soulmate. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he traced over the dark lines. He felt instantly calm.

Everything is going to be alright.

His soulmate will be a princess, a goddess, a rich Capitol girl no one can compare to. He will have a happy ending with her. Snows will rise on top, and his girl will be beside him every step of the way. The First Lady of Panem as he will be the president.

He vividly remembers the day all of his hopes were crushed. It was a couple of weeks after Sejanus started attending the academy. The boy was mocked by everyone, and Coriolanus thought it was deserved, a district boy was nothing more than an animal.

Then came the district girl, this one from District One, the district closest to the Capitol. But still not the same. The girl from the district was the prettiest he had ever seen. Although she's district. She had claimed the hearts of the teachers, and in return received many privileges. It was rumored that even the dean had a soft spot for her.

It was understandable why. She was a girl with a sweet smile, a secret sharp tongue, and hidden cruelty in her eyes he wasn't sure anyone saw except him. Her eyes always softened when she looked at him but she was always friendlier with Sejanus. Pea in a pod sticks together after all.

It was a bright day, a hot summer making him sweat in his uniform more than the walk to the academy did. That was the day he felt his heart break, and soul crushed. It was completely by accident. Sejanus and you thinking that maybe, you were soulmates. And Coriolanus thought so too, after all, you both were so close, attached to the hip.

Coriolanus felt like he was intruding into something private whenever he was near you both. With your shared giggles and secret smiles, you were as close as children could be.

When you raise your shirt sleeve revealing your soulmate's tattoo, the date is meant to be the most significant to your soulmate. Sejanus didn't recognize it but Coriolanus did, much to his nightmare.

It was the date most important to him. It was the day of his mother's and unborn sister's death. The day he lost someone he held so close to his heart. That's the number etched on your skin.

No. No! He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your yelp and the protest from Sejanus. His eyes were wide and he felt his body shake. “No. . .” He whispered, a sob in his throat.

“What's wrong?” You asked, trying to get your hand out of his hold, and due to his weak, underweight body, you did it easily enough. You rub your wrist and wait for Coryo's answer.

You don't get one because Coriolanus Snow had turn away and begun to walk away from you and Sej.

When he reached his home, his body was shaking and fat drops of tears falling from his eyes. A district girl as his? Never, never in a thousand years. His dead father would have been so disappointed. He refused to accept her as his.

He won't. Ever.

Tigris tried to ask what happened, but Coryo ignored her. He went into the kitchen, turning on the stove. The fire burned blue and orange. He didn't hesitate, ignoring the scream from Tigris as he put his wrist forward. He bit his lips to not scream himself.

By that time, Tigris had pulled him back. The skin had burned, along with it was gone the soulmate tattoo of his. He let himself sob as Tigris tried to fix him up as much as she could. She didn't scold him, couldn't, when he was crying like he had lost everything, all of his dreams shattered and the reality had settled in.

This was ten years ago, he decided he had no soulmate.

Now as eighteen, he wondered if it would remain true.

next chapter!

Taglist: @tristanswildcat

[n1ght0f-nyx]

The Face I Cherish

erik destler x reader

i lost the request by my own stupidity but the basic plot was that one part in the phantom of the opera books, where erik reveals his face to Christine (in this fic, reader) he says something along the lines of 'im a handsome man, arent i", in this version, reader shows him love instead of hatred

tags/warnings- slowish burn, tender angsty fluff

word count- 672 words divider by- floriseu

Erik stood before me, the darkness of the candlelit room casting long, jagged shadows on the stone walls. His breath was ragged, as if he had fought to reveal his face, a battle within himself against a lifetime of torment and disgust. Slowly, with shaking hands, he reached up and tore the mask from his face.

His disfigurement was exposed—half of his face twisted and scarred, the flesh marred by a cruel fate. The other half, though, was breathtakingly beautiful: sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and piercing eyes that flickered with an intensity I had never seen before. He glared at me, challenging me, waiting for my inevitable recoil.

“You see?” His voice wavered, a mixture of bitterness and vulnerability. “Look upon me and behold the monster I truly am.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My heart ached for him, for the man who had spent his life hiding behind shadows and masks. His expression darkened as he mistook my silence for disgust.

“I’m a handsome man, aren’t I?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, mocking his own reflection. He was daring me to lie, to pretend, to do anything but look at him for who he was.

But I didn’t see the hideousness he expected me to recoil from. Instead, I saw the years of loneliness, the pain etched into every scar, and the desperation for love in his eyes. Without thinking, I took a step forward, my hands trembling but not from fear. His sharp inhale was audible, but I ignored it. I reached out, my fingers gently cupping his face—both the unmarred side and the scarred side, treating them both with the same tenderness.

“Yes, you are,” I whispered softly, my thumbs brushing over the rough patches of skin, feeling the warmth beneath them.

Erik froze. His whole body went rigid, as if my touch was something foreign, something he didn’t know how to comprehend. His wide eyes met mine, searching for some hint of cruelty or pity, but there was none.

“You are beautiful, Erik,” I continued, leaning closer. “Not because of this—” I gently touched the scarred side of his face, “—or this—” I moved to trace the smooth lines of the other side. “But because of who you are.”

His lips parted, a sharp intake of breath that he seemed to choke on. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer.

Before he could decide, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his forehead, just between the ridges of his scar. His skin was warm under my lips, and I could feel him trembling beneath my touch.

I moved to kiss the side of his face, planting soft, lingering kisses along the jagged lines of his scars, treating them with the same reverence I gave to the unmarred parts of him. “You are beautiful, Erik,” I repeated, the words punctuated with each gentle kiss.

Erik’s breath hitched. He stood still, as if he didn’t know how to react, as if my affection was something he had never imagined could be real. Slowly, tentatively, his hands found my wrists, holding me as though I might vanish if he let go.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” I murmured, my lips moving to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “You never had to.”

His grip on my wrists tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might pull away, retreat back into the shadows of his mind. But instead, he leaned into my touch, a soft, broken sound escaping him—a sound that was almost like a sob.

“You don’t understand…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. “I am a monster.”

“No,” I said firmly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You are a man, Erik. A man who deserves to be loved.”

For a moment, his eyes searched mine, filled with disbelief, vulnerability, and something that looked like hope—a hope he had long buried. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. His hands slid down to my waist, holding me as though I were his lifeline.

“I don’t know how…” he whispered, his voice trembling, “to accept that.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” I replied softly, brushing my lips over his in the lightest of kisses. “Just know that it’s true.”

For the first time since he revealed his face to me, Erik didn’t try to hide. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he held me tighter, his scarred face pressed against mine, as if in that moment, he finally believed that he was worthy of love.

[pilferingapples]

Why, it was like reading about France and the French, before the ever memorable and blessed Revolution, which swept a thousand years of such villany away in one swift tidal-wave of blood--one: a settlement of that hoary debt in the proportion of half a drop of blood for each hogshead of it that had been pressed by slow tortures out of that people in the weary stretch of ten centuries of wrong and shame and misery the like of which was not to be mated but in hell.  There were two 'Reigns of Terror,' if we would but remember it and consider it; the one wrought murder in hot passion, the other in heartless cold blood; the one lasted mere months, the other had lasted a thousand years; the one inflicted death upon ten thousand persons, the other upon a hundred millions; but our shudders are all for the 'horrors' of the minor Terror, the momentary Terror, so to speak; whereas, what is the horror of swift death by the axe, compared with lifelong death from hunger, cold, insult, cruelty, and heart-break? What is swift death by lightning compared with death by slow fire at the stake? A city cemetery could contain the coffins filled by that brief Terror which we have all been so diligently taught to shiver at and mourn over; but all France could hardly contain the coffins filled by that older and real Terror - that unspeakably bitter and awful Terror which none of us has been taught to see in its vastness or pity as it deserves.

-Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

(every time we come to LM 1.1.10, I think about this quote )

[maritoke]

I finally finished them, oh lord. Swap Ancients (and Elder Faerie (he's here along for the ride, poor guy)) for my swap au. They were the ones who had the original souljams firsts, now they're beasts

Some info on Swap Ancients (might change--):

Divine Vanilla Cookie: once a traveling healer blessed by the virtue of knowledge. Through out his travels, he had seen how plagued the world was by evil and cruelty. How many cookies had died young, how many good man had turned bad due to too many woes and problems, how time spared none. But it could be reversed could it not? There were the spells that allowed one to control time. World was cruel yet it was beautiful nontheless. Why not let everyone expierience it? Why not create a paradise on earth where the is no illness nor any woes? Why not erase the very death itself? He was granted immortality, was he not? Is he not benevolent for wanting to share it with others?

Lovebug Lilies Cookie: Once two cookies with separate minds and bodies. Now two souls sharing one vessel. White Lily would always search for the truth. Cookie kind deserved to know why were they created. Despite being granted the virtue of solidarity, her purpose was uncertain to her. Why she? Why not anyone else? In her search she had found Faerie Kingdom, where she befriended their king. But when she was about to leave, Elder Faerie joined her. Not wanting her to possibly face cruel truth alone. When she fell into the raw dough after witnessing the cruelty of their creators Elder Faerie tried to get her out. Sadly he was pushed into it along with her. Now, rebaked as one, they share the idea to keep the truth a secret forever. To sever the connection between the entirety of humankind and cookies. Cookies deserved to not be burdened with such pitiful legacy.

Berserk Cacao Cookie: How one responds in the most critical moments can say a lot about a person. Fear is one of the most basic emotions, and true warrior keeps going despite dreading the outcome of the battle. The stronger the enemy the more fear he strikes into his opponent. Dark Cacao was once known as the strongest warrior and king. The stories of him inspired both awe and striked fear. Though, as the climate got harsher and harsher, the cratures got more and more vile, until finally two dragons became a threat. And Dark Cacao would protect his people regardless of what they thought of him. After all no one would dare to attack the dragon slayer. In face of fear, one fights, freezes or flees. And he would always fight. For outsiders shall dread the king who won't back down. Who won't stop until the threat is gone.

Claretberry Cookie: The ever joyous queen, chershied each and every moment she spend with her friends and family. However as time went on she saw many of her friends and family grow old. Time and time again. Outliving them repeatedly. The joy soon started to fade away leaving only an empty space. So she slowly gave in to pleasure. Be it from drinking juice, throwing a thousandth party, or fighting for fun. It did bring her pleasure. It wasn't the same as real happiness, but it was good. It numbed the mind and filled it with forced dopamine. And her people? Well, Hollyberry Kingdom was always well known for being full of various sorts of entertainment. The decadency started to grow on others almost seemlessly.

Radiant Cheese Cookie: Ever as greedy, she cared for her kingdom the most. She brought good change to everyone but saved the best for her own. However not all change is good, and sooner or later even the strongest of empires need to fall. Be it because of a foe from the outside... or because of the fault within. She refused to let her kingdom fall, and so she started to plunder nearby cities for their goods and resources. After all she needed them more. Her people needed them more. With time, the need turned into want. For she'd rather take from others than see her kingdom change, see it rust. It is pure gold to her. And everyone knows pure gold cannot possibly rust or tarnish.

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Accidently Kidnpping A Mafia Boss (Teaser)

Kidnapping the Yoon Jeonghan was not on your 2024 bingo but sometimes, shit happens right?

Pairing - Yoon Jeonghan x afab!reader

Word Count - Teaser is 1.3K, I'm not gonna promise a number for the full fic just yet

Genre - Strangers to something more than that I guess? Crack because there’s ‘dumb’, ‘dumber’, ‘dumbest’, and ‘dumbest of them all’ so you can imagine and also angst, just a small splash and smut. Loads of it (not here but in the full fic)

Warnings - none for the teaser, mentions of kidnapping and mafia. (But just to be clear, this is not like your usual mafia fics - it’s not dark, there’s no violence and things of that sort)

Estimated posting date - I have a shit ton on my plate right now so I don’t want to stress myself out with a deadline! If you want to be in the loop, please follow me or join the taglist by commenting, sending a message or an ask, thank you!

Thank you @taechwita613 for bearing my annoying self yet again 💕

"You're being a real pain in my ass right now." 

"I don't see how it’s an issue since that’s not much of an ass." 

Seokmin glared at Seungkwan.

"Just because some stupid college club awarded you a silly superlative-"

"-best bakery in town is not a ‘silly’ superlative-"

"-like once-"

"-twice. In a row-" 

"-doesn't mean-" 

"-absolutely does-" 

"Will you two shut up?" You hissed under your breath looking around. "Are you trying to get us all caught?" 

Seungkwan clicked his tongue annoyed. "You're acting like we're in the middle of a crime." 

Your eyes flickered from Seokmin to Seungkwan before landing on the third guy between them, the one who was unconscious and being held up with his arms thrown over the shoulders of your friends. 

"Last I checked, kidnapping is a crime." You pointed out.

Seokmin rolled his eyes. "Pranking your friend isn't."

"That is if Soonyoung decides he wants to save your sorry ass."

"Again, not much of an ass-" 

"I swear to god Kwan-" 

Groaning you covered your ears to shut out all the bickering. 

That night when drunk Soonyoung had pushed your buttons, consequently leading to the events of tonight, you did not think it would be this hard. 

The plan was simple - on Mondays Soonyoung was in charge of closing the BBQ shop where all 3 of your closest friends worked part time. His routine was fairly straightforward - first he clears and cleans all the tables, then he closes the kitchen, then changes out of his uniform and finally wraps it up by locking the main door. 

That's where you would get him, right as he closed the doors. You were to take him by surprise from the back, cover his face with a black cloth bag then bring him to your apartment and tie him up leaving him immobile, blinded and helpless. 

One might wonder why such cruelty when you called him a friend but you would argue that Soonyoung deserved it. After all that night, he hadn't stopped mentioning how you were boring and your life was so uninteresting and you didn't have a single exciting adventure while he had a shit ton of them. Well, today you were about to give yourself, and him, a story to tell.

Now things did go according to plan, for the most part. Seokmin and Seungkwan were first reluctant to be a part of this madness but that was until you brought up the prospect of Soonyoung being scared enough to hopefully piss in his pants. Intrigued by the idea, they joined and all three of you waited in the bushes, watching your friend's silhouette moving around the shop, putting things away, cleaning up. Just as he reappeared after changing, hurriedly trying to leave the shop, the three of you got to action, approaching him silently from the back, swiftly holding him by the hands and putting the bag over his face. 

What you didn't take into account in this plan was just how much resistance Soonyoung would show, God knows why you didn't consider his adrenaline driven reaction, but man did he put up a fight. It was only natural you retaliate and so instinctively, you landed a smack on his head with the torch in your hand knocking him out, making him buckle into the pavement as the two other boys caught him, looking at you bewildered.

That was perhaps just the beginning of your problems because now you had to very unsuspiciously drag a very unconscious man to your apartment in the dead of the night. It would have helped if this neighbourhood was even a little sketchy but being a quiet, painfully uneventful suburb meant even the smallest of things was seen with high scrutiny. 

So far, the three of you had somehow managed to make it from the restaurant to your building undetected but it was getting from the first floor to your house that was the real task since the building's resident old woman decided she wanted to feed the stray cats at 2 am. 

"How much longer are we gonna have to do this?" Seungkwan groaned. "He's surprisingly not that heavy but my arm is starting to sleep."

"Yeah, this joke isn't as funny anymore-" 

"Will you two just keep quiet?" You turned to them annoyed. "She'll be gone in a few minutes and then we can move. Didn't you guys say you wanted Soonyoung to shut up for a few days?” 

Seokmin mumbled a yes under his breath while Seungkwan nodded hesitating. Hoping for some silence after this, you turned to watch the old woman stroking the cat softly as it slowly nibbled its food. Although your patience was really being tested, something told you if you didn't go through this plan, in another 40 years, you'd be exactly like that old lady - lonely, boring and feeding stray cats. Terrified by that thought, you held it together even though it took a whole 15 minutes for the scene to clear. As the three, no four of you, proceeded towards your apartment, the stray cat watched, licking its paw. 

Seungkwan and Seokmin groaned in relief as they half threw Soonyoung onto the chair you pulled to the middle, rubbing their aching shoulders. Scouring the drawers, you pulled out a rope with a soft “aha” making them turn towards your unnaturally happy self. Soonyoung stirred in his chair.

“You're a little too excited about this-” 

“Shhh!” You covered Seokmin's mouth with your hand, whispering. “If you talk, he'll know it's us, then it's not scary anymore.”

“Frankly, I think the kidnapping and knocking him out cold must have been scary enough already.”

“Not enough” You glared as Soonyoung let out a soft groan, letting you know he was coming around. “Quick, take my phone and open that AI app. We'll type what we want to say and use the bot voice - that way he'll have no idea.” 

All three of you huddled, glancing at the phone as Seungkwan typed something quickly, pressing play to let the low toned automated voice echo through the room. 

“I cannot wait to see Soonyoung shit his pants.”

Seokmin giggled as your lips curled into a pleased smile. Oh, he was surely going to shit his pants. 

“And why would I do that?” Soonyoung's voice sounded confused.

“Because we-” 

Seokmin looked up, freezing mid-sentence, noticing the voice did not come from the person before him. 

All three of you exchanged looks realising the same before slowly turning around. Soonyoung  was standing at the entrance like he just walked in, looking bewildered. 

Before any of you could process the situation, he pointed over your shoulders, frowning.

“And who's that?”

Oh. 

“And why is he wearing my clothes?” 

Oh no.

You turned back to see the man in question, slowly pull the black bag from over his head, shaking his golden tresses away from his face. Oh lord was he gorgeous. 

As he blinked his eyes open, wondering where the hell he was, you were busy running your eyes all over his pretty features and suddenly, in that short span of 20 seconds, you had memorised where every single mole on his face was. 

Seokmin and Seungkwan held your arms on either side half hiding behind you which was stupid considering you were the biggest coward in the room. 

But somehow, as the man before you looked at all of you with narrowed, accusing eyes and tried to stand up, you swung your arm and smacked him right on the head with the torch again. All three boys gawked at you as the man fell back into the chair again, head rolling to the side, unconscious. 

“What the hell mate-”

“I'm sorry I panicked!”

“Will someone tell me what's happening? Why is he wearing my clothes-”

“Shut up Soonyoung.” Seungkwan turned to you looking terrified. “Do you have any idea what you've done?” 

“Hey, this can't be just on me, we all thought it was Soonyoung-” 

“Me???” 

“-how is this my only fault-” 

“Because!” Seungkwan raised his voice pointing a shaking finger. “The man you just knocked out again, that's…that's….”

“That's…” Seokmin's eyes widened in realisation. “That's the city’s most wanted criminal, Yoon Jeonghan.” 

A/n -I have tagged all those on the current taglist in the comments, if you wanna be added to the taglist for the fic or for the series, please let me know by leaving a comment/sending an ask or a message!

[identitty-dickruption]

when I say "being loved is a skill" I don't mean that:

you have to work to make yourself loveable

you have to be a certain way to deserve love

any other bullshit that might imply that traumatised people are unloveable

what I mean is:

trusting someone else is a skill

it's especially hard to trust that someone else actually loves you after you've had experiences of people pretending to do so

expecting cruelty is a skill that needs to be unlearned, and that can be a long and difficult process

seeing yourself as someone who is capable of being loved can be a radical shift that takes a lot of effort

when you grow up feeling unloveable, it's easy to be suspicious of anyone who treats you the way you should've been treated the entire time, and this can cause you to reject them before they have the chance to reject you. learning when suspicion is and isn't warranted is a skill

people loved me before I learnt the skill that is "being loved". it's just that my instincts all tell me to react in ways that are counterintuitive to the overall project of loving and being loved. it takes work to sort through these instincts and it takes work to let people into my life, and it takes a whole range of various skills to make that happen. none of that is my fault. and it's unfair that it's become my responsibility to do that work. but I'm not alone in the work and I hope you're not either

[resident-idiot-simp]

I need Logan being the history teacher at the school and in conjunction with teaching history so well and in a way so engaging and interesting. Everyone can't help but being inraptured.

I need his to also explain why everything is the government's fault so at the end everyone is so anti establishment it becomes an issue, because none of them want to join the X-Men after they graduate.

The X-Men are trying to figure out where the disconnect is and they would never guess it was Logan. But there he is teaching class and recounting horrors in a damn near therapeutic way while expressing to the students that this doesn't have to be how it is. That of course it is causing all of the students worldviews to shift.

Everyone assumes Logan is a pessimist he's always so gloom and grumpy and mean and all of the other adjectives. But deep down he's an optimist and he expresses how It doesn't have to be like that that people are getting better that people are trying. That all you have to do is say no and fight against it because people aren't inherently bad.

He talks about how he never really blamed most of the soldiers in the wars for the deaths of his men and friends or even fighting in general. They were all fighting because of someone else who was to blame, that they were all victims. No one but a few truly wanted to be malicious and evil and thinking otherwise was just wrong.

He talks about mercy and how it should be given to everyone who deserve it, that no one deserves cruelty except for the few evil people. He talks about how things have slowly improved and how they will continue to because that's human nature.

He talks about how people don't have to be anything and they can choose their own fate. It impacts everyone that hears it because Logan is living proof of that.

Instead of being some bitter cynical old man he preaches about hope and he offers out and olive branch to anyone who wants it. He is living proof that no person is without hope or faith because surely if anyone deserved to be so cruel it would be him.

This man gets to go home to his small apartment with his boyfriend, dog, and roommate and live the life he has always wanted.

(x)

[valtsv]

wtf did you do to have that many people after you lmfao

i resent the implication that i did something to deserve being treated like shit on the heel of people's shoes for literal years, but if you must know i made a few too many cringe posts and liked problematic media (dream smp) back when that was a big deal. looking back i recognise that i was a bit annoying and that i could have been more reasonable in how i behaved, particularly in response to legitimate criticism, but i want to stress that none of the merciless unthinking cruelty i endured made me want to change or even think i could. i had to rebuild from the ground up after literally falling apart under the stress people were putting on me for their own entertainment because the alternative was fucking killing myself, which i genuinely thought was the answer because i'd been convinced by my bullies that i was a threat to everyone around me and would be doing the world a favour by letting "better" people take my place.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter twelve

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): none

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The rest of March passed by at an excruciating pace. True to his word, Harry had essentially isolated you from everyone you held dear. He glared at you in the corridors when you passed by and you felt the familiar gutting feeling of guilt every single time. Especially when Ron had finally been released from the Hospital Wing.

You found out that Ron was finally out through Neville Longbottom, who had asked if you'd spoken to Ron since he'd returned. He looked surprised by your confused face and told you that he would be officially out after lunch that day. Not even Hermione had come to find you, not that you were entirely surprised. You had made your way towards the ward with Pansy's elbow crooked in your own, for stability, when the trio and Ginny exited the double oak doors.

The look that Harry gave you was gutting, but the look of utter betrayal on Ron's face made your heart stutter in your chest.

"Ron-" you begin, but he cuts you off before you can even begin to explain yourself.

"Don't." he spat, voice raspy from sleep. "Harry told us what you obviously weren't ever going to."

You inhaled harshly, the arm looped with Pansy's tightening imperceptibly. "Let me explain, please."

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Meadow." the way he said your name was so foreign to you. "How could you fuck the enemy? Seriously, you know who his father is."

He's not his father! You wanted to scream; to shout to the rooftops. But words had evaded you. Tears filled your eyes immediately and you barely hear as Pansy shouts at him, no qualms for the fact that he had only recently recovered from being poisoned by her friends.

Hermione and Ginny barely spare the two of you a glance as they push the two pissed off boys away and down the corridor, the sound of Hermione defending you and chastising Ron for his cruelty is merely a whisper to you.

Pansy puts a hand on your forearm, thumb tracing soft circles. She breathes your name so delicately that you're surprised you even hear it. "Meadow? They're gone."

Your breath hitches minutely and your lip trembles as the tears that had been collecting in your eyes, finally fall.

"Oh, honey." she murmurs before pulling you into the tightest hug ever. "It's okay." she says over and over as she comforts you. "If they can't see how extraordinary you are, then they didn't deserve your friendship in the first place."

You only sob harder.

"Let's go to my dorm, yeah." she says. "Have a girl's day, just us two?"

You nod once and allow her to guide you down to the dungeons, both of you ignoring the circle of your friends in one corner of the Slytherin common room, who look at the two of your passing figures in bewilderment.

You spent a whole weekend with Pansy. But the hole in your chest never seemed to go away, no matter how much the two of you gossiped and laughed.

~∞~

True to his word, Mattheo tried to help in his own way, by providing ample distraction in the form of siphon training. He had told you that his friends were willing to help you, too. It was the least they could do, he had said. And thank Merlin that they were so willing.

You had finally mastered effectively drawing an adequate amount of power from random magical objects that Mattheo would spell, but you couldn't fight the dizzying feeling that overtook you each time you succeeded.

One day, he came to you in the library, Blaise in tow.

"Hi boys." you say with a small smile, but Mattheo could tell that you were hiding your emotions from them – Harry, Ron and Hermione were only sitting a few bookshelves away from you and you had never felt more alone.

"Hello, love." Mattheo mumbled as he pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek, taking the seat beside you and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before his hand rested on the top of your thigh. He watched as your pretty eyes brightened almost instantly, but the faint sound of Ron's guffawing laughter made them dim as if the light had never been present in the first place. His hand squeezed your thigh affectionately.

Blaise took the seat opposite the two of you and having grown used to the two of you acting 'disgustingly coupley' over the course of the month, he didn't react to Mattheo's blatent concern. You noticed that he toyed with some sort of spherical object as he made himself comfortable.

"What's that, Blaise?" you ask, and he holds it up so you can see a transparent glass sphere that was barely the size of a golf ball. You tilt your head curiously.

"It's a conduit." he says, dark brown eyes tracing the smooth edges with precision. "When you siphon from anything with a form of magic imbedded within it, like the ground or a person, you can transfer it into this and it will hopefully take on the strain of the power, while also giving you access to it."

"So in simpler terms," Mattheo says, hand stroking up your thigh lightly, "you'll be able to do what you've been successfully practicing without worrying about passing out. In theory."

"What do you mean 'in theory'?" you ask, turning to Mattheo, who looks contemplatively at the conduit in Blaise's hand.

"Well there's no information about it helping a siphoner. Only that wizards use them to trap an extra bit of their magic in, just in case their magical core is compromised."

Like a horcrux. You thought to yourself, not noticing the way Mattheo imperceptibly tenses. He had a constant foothold in your mind, because it brought you comfort. But he could hear every one of your thoughts.

"So we – well actually Theo – thought that it would work in the same way." He hesitated to mention that Theo had had a hand in helping you. You still had not spoken to him. Not since you found out about his obvious involvement in poisoning Ron. You hadn't so much as uttered a word to him: not when you're in class and certainly not during patrols. "He just wants to help."

"Right." you hummed, "Well hopefully it does. I don't particularly feel like passing out today."

Blaise and Mattheo exchanged a look that you failed to miss. You huffed.

"Thank you Blaise." you say, and through gritted teeth, you ask him to thank Theo too.

~∞~

By the time April had come around, you had made peace with the fact that your friendships with the Golden trio and company were well and truly over. Your time was spent with the Slytherin group in their common room, instead. You wondered how you'd gone so long without fully knowing the whole group (you knew it was because you couldn't think of anything worse than jeopardising your existing friendships at the time of getting to know Theo and Pansy last year). Being around them filled a void that you didn't know existed in the depths of your very being.

Blaise shared your affinity towards muggle literature (he was currently reading the Great Gatsby and the two of you found immense joy when raving about eachother's annotations and perspectives).

Enzo was one of the funniest people you'd ever met and both of you enjoyed pissing Draco off to the maximum. He was also very sweet and caring under his nonchalant exterior but his wit was sharp as a knife – your twin snark was received abysmally from everyone else.

Draco was a little harder to get along with, considering the hatred he harboured for Harry, but he was, perhaps, the most sympathetic with you (besides Pansy, Theo and Mattheo) over your lost friendships.

These people were the only ones who did not outcast you, because they understood you – even your own housemates saw how you had become distanced from your old friends and they began to grow weary of who kept you company instead.

You were a group of pariahs, a wide berth always separating you from the rest of the student body.

You couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You finally talked to Theo and he apologised profusely for his part in Ron's hospitalisation, as did Enzo and even Draco. But like Mattheo, they seemed to find great difficulty in explaining themselves to you, clutching at where their hearts were as he spoke, as if it was trying to claw its way from each of their chests.

That's how you figured out the Unbreakable Vow that came hand in hand with the Dark Marks marring their left forearms. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo and Draco could not utter a word of what they were tasked to do, otherwise they would die a slow and painful death. It gave you even more incentive to get them out somehow. It would be difficult, but you'd never stop trying.

The conduit that Blaise had given to you, lay against your collarbone on a dainty chain of sterling silver, gifted by Pansy. It had developed whorls of varying shapes and sizes as you practiced siphoning day after day and you could feel the hum of power within it. It would only be released upon you shattering the glass. You were gaining control with each practiced session.

You were sat with Mattheo in a quiet corner of the Slytherin common room, focusing on a box of marbles that he had charmed individually for you to practice. The hum of your magic was faint, but the indigo glow was bright and pulsing as invisible hands sifted through the glassy orbs collecting the surges of magic with each stroke, reflecting rainbows of colour across your faces.

He had thought of this idea one evening while you laughed with Enzo at Draco's expense. He had been admiring the way your head tilted back as you heartily laughed, the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders and over his hoodie that you donned, how your eyes sparkled under the low light of the common room. He thought it was possibly the most ethereal sound he'd ever been blessed to hear.

Mattheo began with small objects. Putting a little bit of his magic into them for you to siphon out. Your magical cores mingled and danced around eachother every time you did so successfully and your conduit would glow with a symphony of colour before it would extinguish until the next time you channelled the combined power into it. He found you extraordinary.

He knew he was treading on dangerous waters. He should've never let this thing – this beautiful thing between the two of you – get as far as it had. He should not have been the cause for your broken friendships. But he couldn't help it. He was addicted to you in all senses of the word.

He couldn't get enough. And maybe that made him selfish. But everything he did in this life was for his friends, his family. So he wanted to be selfish, just this once.

Because Mattheo Riddle was in love with you.

You had integrated into his found family with ease. He protects his family. So he would protect you, too. You had lost your old friendships, but new ones had formed. Fresh, pure and innocent.

But war has a funny way of sullying the beautiful things in life. It's only a matter of time before it's ravenous claws ripped through his brief moment of peace.

~∞~

i don't really like this chapter because of all the time jumps but i needed to speed through the timeline a bit lol

and it was mean tto be slightly more fluffy than the last few, but it seems that i just can't resist writing angst.

thankyou for all the love on chapter eleven though, it means so much 🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼

taglist:

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