#it lies in watching it all happen to myself but not wanting to commit to stopping it

[desire-mona]

the time jumps in i saw the tv glow make me so fucking insane and i can never let it go. 2 years, 8 years, then 20, each jump taking more and more out of owen as we watch him decay into a painstakingly unvariable excuse of a protagonist. no matter how big of a jump in time, we never really feel like we've missed out on anything at all. the only real change we experience is what monotonous, yet colourfully and visually overstimulating job he's trudging through, all to live the unfulfilling life he feels is the most safe. no known ambitions, no known lasting relationships, even the family he says he loves more than anything feels less like a feat, and more like a giant step back in the journey we know he needs to go on.

3 decades pass in the span of an hour and 40 minutes, a speed that would seem overwhelmingly fast, yet we stay tuned into the comfortability of that perpetual survival. we know what's going on, and we dont need to play catch up if there's nothing to catch up on. yet despite that comfortability of knowing where and when owen's stuck, it is killing us to know that the potential of what he could be and experience goes unacknowledged through the painstaking amount of years. and it's made all that much worse when we're forced to remember that the slow death we're watching is all the more real, both literally and figuratively, to owen.

[cressidagrey]

Cricket Whites

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Oscar plays Cricket. Teenage Felicity is TOTALLY normal about it.

Notes: Don't leave me alone with a Google Doc for an hour, or this is the result.

Y'all can thank @llirawolf and @leodette for both sending me that picture of Oscar in cricket whites.

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Felicity Leong had always considered herself a composed person.

Even as a teenager, the age where everyone else was all hormones and impulse, she was the calm one. She planned things. She colour-coded her notes. She knew her boundaries. She once told a boy in Year 10 that “flirting is not a substitute for intellectual value” and walked away before he could reply.

So really, there was no excuse for what happened when Oscar walked onto the pitch.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, the kind where the Haileybury campus looked like a postcard: golden light spilling across the cricket green, the redbrick buildings glowing warm against a cloudless sky. A soft breeze lifted the edges of the white pavilion flags. It was all very idyllic. Very civilised.

Felicity had come prepared — not for the match, but for productivity. Her physics textbook was open on her lap, highlighters neatly lined up on a blanket, hair twisted into a no-nonsense bun. She had even brought a second set of flashcards to quiz Aarya during breaks.

She was there to “support her boyfriend” in an academically responsible way. Watch the first ten minutes, smile when he glanced over, then get through three chapters on oscillations and waves.

That was the plan.

And then Oscar walked onto the field.

In full cricket whites.

The trousers were unfair. The polo shirt was worse. And the cable-knit jumper with the school crest — God, the jumper — looked like it had been stolen from a Ralph Lauren ad and adapted by angels. He had the sleeves pushed up just past his elbows, exposing his forearms like it was no big deal, and his hair was ruffled from warm-ups in that exact way that made Felicity want to punch a wall.

She blinked once. Then again. Her hand twitched.

Aarya looked over. “You haven’t turned a page in five minutes.”

Felicity didn’t respond. She had just realised she had written the word cricket in the margins of her notes. Four times.

“I’m fine,” she lied, adjusting her glasses. “Just… distracted.”

Aarya leaned in, concerned. “Do you feel sick?”

Felicity let out a low, strangled sound. “He’s got the forearms out.”

Lara glanced up from her phone. “Yeah, that’s cricket for you.”

“He just adjusted his sleeve with his teeth.”

Aarya raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Are you… okay?”

“No,” Felicity hissed. “I’m sixteen and I’ve just discovered I’m shallow.”

To his credit, Oscar was entirely oblivious to the war crimes he was committing against her nervous system. He jogged into position with the easy grace of someone who’d grown up on a pitch, flexed his fingers in his gloves, and took a long drink from his water bottle — all very normal things that, unfortunately, now seemed deeply personal to Felicity.

He wasn’t even trying. That was the worst part.

He wasn’t peacocking. He wasn’t showing off. He wasn’t winking or smiling for the crowd. He was just existing — calmly, sweat on the back of his neck, school crest on his chest — like some private school boy dream sequence designed in a lab.

Felicity dragged a hand down her face and whimpered.

“Do you want me to splash water on you?” Aarya offered helpfully. “You know you’ve been staring at Oscar like he’s a final exam answer sheet for ten straight minutes, right?”

“I have not.”

“You have. It’s okay. Cricket whites do weird things to the female brain.”

“I’m going to die.”

“He’s literally your boyfriend.”

“Exactly! I’ve seen him with morning hair and mismatched socks. And now he’s out there looking like a fictional heartthrob, and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Later — much later, after overs and innings and Oscar bowling a clean wicket — he jogged over toward her. Sweaty curls. Beaming like he’d just saved the world.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm and a little breathless. “You stayed the whole match?”

Felicity blinked up at him, suddenly aware that her cheeks were still flushed and her voice was definitely not going to come out normal.

“Yes. Obviously,” she said. But it came out more like a squeak.

Oscar grinned. “You were sitting with Aarya, right? I thought I saw you.”

Felicity nodded. “I, um. I was… taking notes.”

Oscar glanced at her closed textbook, still in her lap, the same page open as it had been three hours ago. “Right. Good notes?”

She looked down. Realized she had drawn a doodle of a cricket bat with hearts around it.

“Very good,” she said, stuffing the book into her bag. “Lots of physics.”

He laughed and leaned down, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “Thanks for coming, Fliss.”

And then he was off again, turning back to grab his gear, leaving Felicity to fan herself with a match programme and hiss, “I am in so much trouble,” under her breath.

Aarya just patted her leg. “You’re doomed. But like. In love.”

***

Oscar Piastri prided himself on being unflappable.

On the track, in exams, during surprise oral presentations — he was composed, methodical, ice-water-in-his-veins calm. His tutors loved to say he had “a natural temperament for pressure,” which was a nicer way of saying nothing ever seemed to rattle him.

That composure extended, usually, to his relationship with Felicity.

She was the one person who could throw him off, yes — but never in a bad way. She made him feel steadier. Like being with her made everything else make sense.

Which was why it took him exactly three seconds after sneaking into her room that night to realize something was different.

Fliss was standing by the desk in pyjama shorts and an oversized hoodie, hair scraped up in that messy bun she always claimed was an accident, even though he thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“Hey,” he whispered, already grinning. “I had to wait till Mr. Bates turned his WWII documentary on. I think I know more about submarines now than I ever wanted to.”

Felicity didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t smirk. She just crossed the room and kissed him.

Like, properly.

It wasn’t their usual soft goodnight kiss. This one was all heat and hands and startled noises in the back of his throat, and Oscar had just enough brain cells left to catch her waist and kiss her back before every single logical thought in his head short-circuited.

When she finally pulled away, pink-faced and breathless, Oscar just stared at her.

“Okay,” he said quietly, catching his breath. “Not that I’m complaining, but... what the hell was that?”

Felicity dropped her face into his hoodie-covered chest. “Don’t ask.”

“I’m going to ask.”

“You’re going to regret it.”

Oscar laughed, slipping his arms around her waist. “Was it the flash cards? Did I finally win you over with molecules?”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You just snogged me like I came back from war.”

She groaned again, louder this time, and shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

Still, she didn’t move far. And when he ducked down to look at her properly, he saw it — the pink blush across her cheeks, the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Which meant he really wasn’t letting it go.

“Still not telling me?”

She sighed, then looked up at him, and it hit him again — how beautiful she was when she was flustered. “It was the stupid cricket whites, okay?”

Oscar blinked. “The… what?”

“The cricket match. Your uniform. The sleeves. The sun. Your forearms. I don’t know. My brain shut down. Aarya had to tell me how to spell ‘turbine.’”

Oscar stared at her, baffled. “You’ve been tutoring sixth formers since you were twelve. And cricket whites took you out?”

Felicity groaned and tried to walk away.

Oscar followed her, laughing. “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m just—seriously? That’s what did it? I’ve made you flashcards with little doodles. I learned ballet terminology for you. I literally memorised your favourite cookie recipe -”

“Yeah,” she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair. “And apparently none of that matters because your arms looked good in the sun.”

Oscar blinked again. And then—

“Oh my god,” he said, delighted. “You were checking me out at cricket.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You love me in cricket whites.”

“I am not dignifying that with a response.”

Oscar was glowing. He couldn’t help it. Because the most brilliant, most put-together girl he’d ever known had just short-circuited over his stupid cricket whites.

“Tell anyone and I’ll key your laptop,” Felicity threatened him. 

Oscar bit back a grin and stepped forward, cupping her face.  “I won’t tell a soul,” he said softly. “But just so you know… I would’ve worn that stupid jumper a lot earlier if I’d known it had that kind of effect.”

Her eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth betrayed a twitch of a smile.

“I hate how smug you are.”

“I’m not smug,” Oscar said, all innocence. “I’m flattered. My girlfriend thinks I’m hot. In cable-knit.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

And then he kissed her again — softer this time.

And he was still grinning when they fell asleep, tangled under her duvet, her fingers curled into the hem of his shirt like they always were — the same shirt she’d probably end up stealing the next day.

Cricket whites, he thought, smug and dazed and very much in love.

Who knew?

[kabsey]

Why am I suddenly obsessed with the idea of a forgiven Illario being gravely wounded in the last battle?

Like he stumbles his way back to where the Crows have gathered, covered in blood and grime and gore, and he wants to cry with relief when Teia rushes to his side. She has to hold up almost all of his weight as she leads him to one of the few empty cots left in their field hospital. And then she leaves him and he wants to cry again, near delirious with pain and blood loss and an all-consuming dread that his end is waiting, just out of sight, to swallow him whole.

The minutes trickle by, and as he lies there, surrounded by the moans of the other dying and gasping for breath that can barely squeeze through the agony, he starts to think that maybe this was how it was always meant to happen. That maybe he was destined to die alone and unmourned, just another body on a mass pyre. When he begins to fade in and out of consciousness, he's grateful because he's no longer aware of every second counting down until his last.

In one brief flicker, he hears voices above him, muffled and far away as if he's underwater.

"—wasn't like this when I left him, I swear, Lucanis."

"Get a healer. Now."

-------

In the next, he's fairly sure he's still dreaming because he's wrapped in a blanket and curled in a wheelbarrow of all things being pushed by a qunari of all people.

-------

When he wakes again, he barely notices because the room he's in is so dark. He's lying on a soft bed, and a black silhouette watches him from the shadows just outside the circle of banked firelight.

"Lucanis?" he croaks. Every inch of his skin feels soaked through with cold sweat, but his throat is so, so dry.

The silhouette leans forward to reveal a pointed beard and a pointed gaze that had always seemed to accuse him, even before he had committed any of his crimes.

Illario sighs, too tired now to feel the panic of before. "Here to... finish me off?"

He's already drifting when Viago answers.

"If I were here to kill you, you wouldn't have woken up."

-------

The next time he opens his eyes, pale grey light fills the room, filtered through gauzy curtains. Both he and the world feel more solid. He's not in his own suite in the villa but a smaller room in the guest wing. And the man sitting at his bedside is, as ever, the person he most and least wants to see in the world.

"You're going to live," Lucanis states, and his voice and his expression hold no clue as to how he feels about that.

A huff of wry laughter escapes Illario. "My apologies."

That prompts the tiniest of furrows in his cousin's brow. "Why were you there? No one expected you." The furrow deepens. "Were you even fighting for our side?"

The jibe should sting, but Illario feels as if all of the aches and weariness from every moment of his life have settled deep into his bones. "I killed Venatori. Even a few darkspawn."

"So you betrayed your allies again?" Lucanis sighs. His exhaustion is clear in the slump of his shoulders and the circles beneath his eyes.

"The Venatori were never my allies."

Lucanis straightens at that, showing a little of the fire that Illario had always wished he would. "You were going to let them into Trevsio."

"I wasn't going to let them stay. After they pushed out the Antaam and protected us from the gods, we could have gotten rid of them."

"And the blood magic?" Lucanis accused.

"I needed to be able to defend myself."

"From me?" his cousin demanded, a spark of violet flickering in his eyes. "Or your Venatori lover?"

Illario lets his eyes fall closed. "She was just a tool. They were all just tools."

"That's all you see, isn't it? You look at the world, and instead of people, you see only tools to be used."

"Of course," Illario agrees. He opens his eyes and almost laughs to see the look of surprise on Lucanis's face. "Just as we were taught, no? Even we were only tools to Caterina."

He settles deeper into the pillows, the pull of sleep tugging his eyelids down again. "But maybe being the favorite tool was almost like being human."

For a few long moments, only the crackling in the fireplace answers him. He expects to hear the creak of the chair and Lucanis's fading footsteps at any moment.

Instead he hears a quiet murmur. "It wasn't."

The low tone is a hook in Illario's heart. Even decades later, he can hear the echoes of shared secrets in the nights after hard days, when he would sneak into Lucanis's room and curl up on his floor so they could commiserate in their mutual misery. He struggles to breathe around the tears that prick his eyelids and tighten his throat, the effort just as wrenching as trying to breathe through the pain of his wound.

And he thinks then that he has not learned his lesson, that maybe he will never learn his lesson. Because if some power alighted in that room and promised to send him back to those years, even if it meant that Thedas would suffer blight and war and demons and elvhen gods all over again with no guarantee of a repeated victory...

He wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: GUESS WHO'S BACK? For those who wanted a second part, I suggest you interact with this chapter. The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, explicit content and violence.

FINAL

THIRTEEN

Jace is asleep in his car seat in the back. He’s a calm baby, especially while in the car. The journey to Forks is long, particularly when you're driving alone. Jacob went ahead to take your things to his house. You’re afraid of what lies ahead, but you need Seth to tell you what happened to him. Night is nearly upon you when you finally begin to approach your destination, sensing that this journey will bring only challenges.

Jace wakes, whining loudly for you to feed him. Like his father, he sometimes feeds on blood, while at other times, he drinks milk like any other baby. You pull over on the side of the road to tend to him. In a thermal bag, a bottle filled with meticulously stored blood awaits your little heir.

At times, you wonder how difficult it will be when he grows older, forced to adapt to life as a hybrid without any examples to guide him in handling his vampire side. But the alternative—allowing Edward to discover that you gave birth to a child he never wanted, a child born from a love that no longer exists—is unthinkable. At least, that is what you tell yourself.

Gently, you lift Jace from his car seat, cradling him in your arms before offering him the bottle. He eagerly drinks, gripping it with surprising strength for his size.

A noise from the surrounding forest startles you, putting you on high alert. Jace finishes his bottle, his hunger sated, and offers you a small, contented smile. You quickly tuck the empty bottle away and secure your son back in his seat.

"So, you are the woman who lingers in Edward Cullen’s thoughts?" A voice speaks from a short distance away, startling you. You turn to see a vampire standing near your car. Instinctively, you shut the back door, ensuring your baby is safe, then fix your gaze on the stranger.

"Forgive me, but I do not believe we have met, nor do I understand your inquiry," you reply, your tone guarded. Something tells you to remain on high alert. For your son, you would do anything.

"I have not introduced myself, but for now, all you need to know is that the Volturi are watching you. There is a suspicion that the child you bore is more than a mere wolf, and we will be investigating further. Tell Edward that the Volturi have their eyes on him," the vampire says, his elegant attire and regal demeanor exuding an air of superiority as he studies you, as if attempting to unravel your secrets. With a slight bow, he disappears into the night.

Immediately, you rush to your car and start the engine. However, another vampire appears in front of it—this one muscular and terrifying. He places his hands on the hood, preventing you from driving forward. The situation unsettles Jace, who begins to cry, his little face scrunching up in distress. Your patience is gone.

"Jace, my love, mommy will take care of this and be right back," you say, turning to the back seat. You place his pacifier in his mouth and hand him his favorite stuffed animal. Then, you carefully put the noise-canceling headphones over his ears—the ones you recently bought. He clutches his toy, sucking on the pacifier as he gradually calms down. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you step out of the car, heading straight for the vampire.

"You vampires are ruining what was supposed to be a peaceful mother-and-child trip," you say loudly, preparing to shift into your wolf form.

"Victoria sends her regards," the vampire sneers, flashing his fangs at you. He is going to attack. Without hesitation, you charge at him, transforming mid-stride and slashing at him with one of your claws.

"You shouldn’t have done that," he growls, grabbing your wolf body with brutal force, attempting to break something.

The pain is sharp, but you thrash violently, your mind filled with the only thought that matters—who you are protecting. With a final surge of strength, you sink your teeth into his arm and tear it off, freeing yourself at last. The vampire looks enraged as he charges toward you at full force. Pain surges through your body, but you remain firm, bracing for the next attack. He throws a punch at your snout, but you anticipate it, and despite the pain, you sink your teeth deep into his flesh and shake him violently, tearing him apart.

With vampire blood staining your mouth, you rise in human form, intending to return to the car—only to see another vampire approaching your son. There is no time to react.

Before you can move, Edward appears behind the vampire and swiftly rips off his head. It is strange that your reunion happens like this—you, standing naked, while he protects your child. His child. Your car is splattered with blood, but your baby is safe.

"Are you all right?" Edward asks, noticing the difficulty with which you move, the wounds inflicted by the muscular vampire taking their toll.

"I could be better, but thank you for protecting my boy," you say, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You are truly grateful, but guilt gnaws at you. His son is right there, and he doesn’t even know.

"Do you need help?" Edward offers, watching you struggle to retrieve your emergency change of clothes from the car. For some reason, Jace starts crying as soon as Edward gets closer to you.

"Could you hold him? He won’t stop crying unless he’s rocked, and I need to get dressed," you suggest in a quiet voice. Under normal circumstances, you would never ask Edward to hold Jace, but as a mother, your child’s well-being comes before any discomfort or unresolved issues.

Edward nods silently, opening the car door and gently lifting Jace from his seat. Somehow, Jace has pulled off his noise-canceling headphones but still clutches his stuffed animal. Edward cradles him, soothing him with a soft hum. Taking advantage of the moment, you quickly dress, regaining some composure. A sharp sting reminds you of the wound on your abdomen from the fight.

"He looks like you," Edward murmurs while rocking Jace with careful tenderness.

"I always thought he looked more like his father. But Jacob says he resembles me, too," you reply, fastening the last piece of clothing.

"He is beautiful," Edward murmurs as Jace uses his tiny hands to caress Edward’s face, his fingers quickly brushing against Edward’s sharp canines. Edward bares his fangs playfully, and Jace, utterly delighted, bursts into laughter. He has clearly taken a liking to Edward, even without knowing that he is his father. Jace giggles as Edward holds him securely, growing accustomed to the weight of the baby in his arms.

"You and Jacob have built a lovely family," Edward says as Jace finally pulls his little fingers away from his mouth. How you wish you could tell the man before you that this family was supposed to be his. But you shake your head, pushing away any sentimentality, and step forward to take your son from Edward’s arms.

"Thank you for your help. I don’t even know how you knew we needed it," you say, cradling Jace close and seizing the opportunity to change the subject.

"Alice saw that a vampire with ill intentions would be here looking for you," Edward says while holding Jace’s tiny hand, playfully entertaining him. Jace bites Edward’s finger, using it to soothe his aching gums as his teeth threaten to emerge.

"Thank her for me," you reply, pressing a gentle kiss to Jace’s forehead as you rock him in your arms.

"Would you have told me you were back if not for this?" Edward asks, his tone more serious now as he meets your gaze. And just like that, you are back where you left off before you left Forks.

"It’s not as if we had anything to say. It’s been over a year since we ended things—nothing more courteous than staying out of each other’s way," you say, noticing how Jace watches your conversation with quiet curiosity.

"You could never be an inconvenience to me," Edward murmurs, catching you off guard. "You’re the reason my life has meaning." There is a weight in his voice, a sadness that suggests this time apart has been anything but easy for him.

"We were a mistake for each other, Edward," you say, stepping away while still holding your son as if clinging to a lie. And in truth, that is what it is—because Jace is the greatest right in your life, and he is the result of what you once had with Edward.

"The best mistake we could have ever made was staying together, Y/N," Edward counters, reaching out to touch your face as he steps closer. His touch stirs memories—of the happiness you once shared, of the wedding that never happened, of everything that made you love him.

"I don’t recall you saying that when I was forced to stand by my pack instead of marrying you," you reply bitterly, stepping back from him, unwilling to dwell on the past that still haunts you. You turn and place Jace in his car seat, deciding it is best for him to be shielded from the complicated nature of his parents.

"I wasn’t in the right frame of mind when that happened," Edward admits, his voice low with regret. "But you need to know that since you left, I’ve been miserable. My mind isn’t whole without you."

He moves closer as you shut the car door, his hands finding your neck, his lips just a breath away. Your back presses against the car, his presence overwhelming. It feels like a dream, like something that should have had a different ending.

"I can’t allow myself to live in our chaos anymore, Cullen," you say, taking his hands in yours and gently pulling them away. "I am a mother now. My son deserves a life free of turmoil. I’m grateful for your help, and for the way you treated Jace, but there is no future for us." Edward seems to finally accept the truth, his expression shifting as if reality has settled over him like a heavy weight.

"I’ll respect your decision," he murmurs. "But if you ever need me when it comes to your son, I’ll always be here." His gaze shifts to Jace, watching him play with his tiny fingers inside the car.

"You need to be careful," you warn. "These vampires came after me because of Victoria, and before them, some pompous vampire mentioned that the Volturi are either watching you or looking for you. If things with the wolves are already tense, having the Volturi on your trail is even more dangerous." Edward smiles at your concern, then straightens and leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"God, how I’ve missed you," he whispers as he pulls away. And then, when you open your eyes again, he is gone—no farewell, no final words. But you know this won’t be the last time you see him. With a quiet sigh, you return to the car, resuming your drive to the Black's house.

[silvermoon424]

Katy, I ended up watching a video that talked about the rise and fall of Oshi no Ko, which I remember you loving a while back and at the end of it I was like

I am so sorry this happened to a series you loved.

BESTIE I THINK WE SAW THE SAME VIDEO!! It's a really good, thorough recap of the series and why and how it drove off a fucking cliff, lol.

But yeah, the series was already on a steady decline for, like, a year and a half before it finally ended. But it was very much salvageable until Akasaka pulled "the father of the twins created a serial killer cult and Aqua had to do a murder-suicide with him to protect Ruby's career for some reason" out of his ass.

A lot of people (myself included) have pointed out that it feels like Akasaka originally planned the ending as "Aqua and Hikaru die together in the ocean as part of Aqua's revenge plot" and remained totally married to the idea even after Oshi no Ko grew into something else.

In the ACTUAL story, Aqua learns to let go of vengeance and decides to prioritize living for his friends and family (and because, well, life itself is worth sticking around for). His "revenge" on his father is non-violent; he first destroys Hikaru's reputation, then as the coup de grace reveals that Ai (whom he's been obsessed with and hung up over for YEARS) truly did love and care about him all along; he just didn't understand her. This seems to have a profound impact on Hikaru, to the point where he says he'll turn himself in for his crimes.

BUT PSYCH!!!! It turns out that he's actually an evil serial killer who is working with a member of Ai's old idol group who was obsessed with her, and they're going to keep trying to kill Ruby so she can't surpass Ai as the Most Perfect Idol Ever. So Aqua CLEARLY has no other choice than to commit suicide while also murdering his father to save... Ruby's career? He explicitly kills Hikaru AND himself to make it look like HE was murdered bc he doesn't want Ruby to be known as the sister of a murderer, which would ruin her career.

And then Ruby becomes Ai 2.0, lies and all. And earlier on the series made sure to emphasize that being an idol is a very ephemeral career with a hard expiration date, so Ruby will have like... a decade at most of being an idol before the industry finishes chewing her up. I'm totally sure she would rather have that than her brother!!!!

I can literally go on for a novella-length time about how utterly dogshit this ending is, lmao. If it were framed as a tragedy that would be one thing, but there's this really uncomfortable tone throughout that paints Aqua killing himself for his sister's career as beautiful and noble and I'm just like 👁️👄👁️

Ai Hoshino is still best girl tho 🩷

[cozymochi]

Hi Cozy it's 🍍anon! suddenly went off the grid because work has been hectic but I have been lurking-- browsed through your oc tag and the nyoka art will be feeding me delusions for months

Anyways enough of that talk, A question that I've been thinking of for the past day was amongst your ocs who do you see experiencing an overblot themselves? I wasn't certain if this has been asked before but if it has then you can ignore this ❤️

Have a lovely day/night!

WHO do I see experiencing an overblot? Honestly as of this point, ehh… None of them. Take that with slight uncertainty though rather than being a definitive answer.

Could they? Going by how the universe works, yes. Will they? Leaning towards no, but it’s more like a “🤷 Probably not?” Question mark?

They certainly have all the foundational pieces, and in-universe anyone with magic has the capacity to do so- but unless they were to have some kind of villainous failure breakdown moment, I don’t really see it happening.

That said….

Going by the villain characters that they are twisted from: Emilio twisted from Chancellor Estéban (Elena of Avalor), Cecil twisted from Cedric the Sorceror (Sofia the First), and Nyoka twisted Ushari the egyptian cobra (The Lion Guard)— we’re at like… a different impasse. I kind of have to address those source guys real quick to illustrate my headspace. So I’m about to sound very cringe in briefly crash-coursing and analyzing characters from shows not meant for me. Full spoilers for all three but let’s be real, nobody is gonna watch these things. I did it for everyone.

———

Estéban kind of reaches his goal of ruling the kingdom… more than once? All he really wanted was to be listened to and not forgotten. Admittedly, he often is, but to an extent a lot of it is his own fault. He wants to be noticed as the guy who the “real power behind the throne” type ordeal.

He kind of just fumbles into all of this, really. First time, he was petty and willingly allowed an evil sorceress into his own families kingdom just to make his own warning about her invading come true— thus leading to the deaths of the King and Queen and the magical imprisonment of the rest of his family for 40 years, then he just becomes her Chancellor. (Hello?) He got what he wanted, if at the cost of his entire youth and family. Then when all of this gets undone and fixed, he’s somehow still petty and wants to undermine the potential of his birthright cousin Elena. Despite becoming more understanding as seasons progress, he kind of continues to be petty and cause problems for others for…. actually no reason?

But oh noooo he can’t let his family or anyone know that he was the reason the King and Queen died and that the kingdom went into a dictatorship for 40 years and he reaped the benefits of it :(( He didn’t know she was going to actually kill and usurp his aunt and uncle! (???) He just…wanted…to…. ….uh….prove a point? Or something? His song is amazing, but. Huh.

Until like two seasons later when all his dirty laundry comes out and as he’s going through the consequences of it, he immediately sides with the next villainous lady again to weasel out of punishment, lies some more, does some magic, then fumbles into ruling the kingdom for a few minutes and then dies trying to save Elena from the 3rd villainous lady he fumbled into aligning himself with (He gets better). Hand to God, by the end of the series it’s very hard to see why he does anything. Sure, villain lady 3 calls him out as someone who continues to make the same mistakes over and over, but that is literally in the final episode.

This reads as a character who can’t fully commit to a villain scheme at all. He’s not even clear about what he personally wants at the end of the day. Is it still being listened to? Being undermined? Is he mad that his decades of experience don’t mean anything? Honestly, I’m going to get myself carried away hardcore. I’m legitimately doing my best trying to remain concise, but it is genuinely as messy as it sounds. I enjoy the mess, but it is quite frustrating if put under even the slightest scrutiny. Somehow he is meant to be sympathetic, but none of it really works.

SO WHAT ABOUT EMILIO? While I have not overtly addressed Emilio’s exact backstory publicly as of writing this out, just know that his twist-inspiration of the core elements is essentially being a person who, at this time, is burdened by something he cannot get over. He currently does not know what he personally wants in life and will flip loyalties to whomever will make him seem like the most competent or coolest person in the room (and especially the one who didn’t cause any problem) or whomever is most likely to win in a situation. He loves attention, he loves getting positive credit for things, but ultimately just is just playing a character.

Just by going off of that he doesn’t seem like a strong overblotter contender, at least not to me.

Emilio does not know what he wants right now, but he’ll certainly pretend that he does. And if he does want something, it’s certainly not going to be resolved at NRC.

———

Cedric does reach his goal of taking over the kingdom. He wanted to take over out of revenge thanks to people constantly belittling him and his abilities for his entire life. If you can’t respect me when I try playing nice, then maybe you will if I’m ruling over all of you with an evil iron-fist and you have NO CHOICE?

However, he only rules it very briefly and ultimately lets himself fail because by this point his heart wasn’t in it anymore. He didn’t even know if he wanted to rule the kingdom genuinely by this point, but thought he had to commit by this point even though he already understood that he got what he actually needed: Genuine supportive friendship and acknowledgement. He sings a whole song about it.

This reads as a character who definitely falls into sunk-cost fallacy with his own schemes, but at the end of the day has enough sense to know his worth where it matters, especially after meeting the right people. Cedric is the most straightforward and clear character across 4 seasons, so going into twst was not too difficult.

In regard to Cecil, he has a very similar set-up as a result. He’s a naturally gifted magic user, but fumbles and lack of control early in his life have led him to have something of a reputation of a walking hazard. It doesn’t matter what accomplishments he has or good he does, because his mistakes are the only things people remember. If one thing bothers him, it’s being around people who also make much worse mistakes more frequently but somehow still get praise/support.

The most Cecil might want is to be viewed by others as how he views himself; an extremely-skilled magic-user worth respecting. How he would do that? It’s up in the air. …Maybe being the head of Diasomnia would net automatic clout, I mean, it works for Malleus who is frankly- a terrible Housewarden by definition in his opinion, but everyone is obsessed with him no matter what he does or doesn’t do because he’s Malleus Draconia. Unfortunately, that’s an automatic losing game with no chance.

As of now, he is highly interested in anything that could net him a little more magic reserves… *stares at Silvers ring.* Sure would be fun to overthrow the “kingdom” so to speak. …but to some degree, that’s not really anything. It’s such small potatoes.

If he is anything like his twisted counterpart, I am on the fence about whether he would even go as far as to set any scheme in motion, and even if he did— it’s very 50/50 if he would “break” and cross the Overblot threshold. With his bumbling luck, it might not even get far nor be registered by anyone else that he’s even doing anything sketchy. He might make a genuine friend and find real support before that would ever occur.

Cecil has guest event character energy. You think they would OB but they never actually do. But, I’m not really sure. Tbh.

(Besides, give it a few months and Malleus will be gone. He can try earnestly at that Housewarden position later.)

——-

Ushari does get very close to achieving his end-goal. He spends pretty much the majority of his time in the first season being literally trampled on by others just by trying to mind his own business. It’s not like anybody cares about how cobras work, he lives at Pride Rock like everybody else how come nobody wants to respect his space? He slowly grows more and more resentful of this, until the second season when he actually does break and reveal his true colors— being a very cruel and sadistic person who goes as far as to,,,,errm,,, quite literally summon Scar’s fire soul from the firey fires of hellfire with the intent of pretty much wiping out all of the mammals at Pride Rock. He thinks Scar can solve all of this. Ushari fully believes that having reptiles rule (beneath Scar) over that kingdom would finally be enough to make everyone stop trampling all over him. …or something like that. It goes off the rails really fast.

This fight goes on for years, I guess (they’re animals but w/e).

And in contrast the other two, he commits to his scheme and has an actual villainous breakdown and ends up burning alive in a volcano by season 3 in a last ditch attempt to avenge his then extra-dead flame head of a master. The splash is on screen. He dies from desperate hubris. This show is bananas, actually.

…Kind of a jump there, right? Lol. I neglected to mention that throughout most of Ushari’s tenure, there seems to be an ongoing clear divide between reptiles and mammals to the point that… the vast majority of the mammal characters don’t know anything about reptiles at all and kind of don’t go out of their way to learn either. (Lion Guard in general goes out of its way to establish that every animal class has it’s own culture/way of doing things despite being ruled under the same King.) Ushari in particular was also motivated by this resentment but he was also like a reptile supremacist so ermm.

So if I’m going by that kind of pattern, Nyoka might have a stronger shot at experiencing an OB. Compared to above source, running into an alternate direction of the core elements was inevitable.

Nyoka is one of the only known academic-focused bookworms within Savanaclaw- a mainly athletic dorm. On top of being the only reptile beastman there, he tends to be trampled on and have his personal space disregarded frequently. For the most part, despite any warnings and lack of comfortability, he tends to let people talk to him and treat him in all sorts of ways because he has to avoid conflict and remain dignified at all times.

Sure, he’s a cobra so of course he doesn’t any of that and just wants to be left alone, but it’s also as a result of his upbringing where how he is perceived matters a heavy amount. Like Emilio, I have not overtly addressed Nyoka’s backstory publicly as of writing this, but something occurred in the past that he had nothing to personally do with, but as a result of that thing he’s been left to deal with all of the fallout growing up. Slip ups occur, of course, but it’s few and far between (and usually from self defense). He would rather the dorm see him as some bookworm who won’t put up a fight rather than something worse.

He cannot do anything that would make himself or his entire group of people look really bad, and they already severely misunderstood. He is the face of the rest of the cobra beastmen, what he does outside of their circle reflects on them and he is fully aware of this. His life is planned out for him, and he has to follow through with it without complaint. Going to NRC at all was seen as a risky move back home. I imagine living in a headspace like that at all times is mentally-taxing.

Emilio and Cecil have at least a few folk they can rant to about their various petty grievances even if it never truly gets vulnerable.

Nyoka does not. He does not address how he feels about his own personal matters to anybody, and does not feel as though he is in any position to do so, so it’s all just simmering there. Nyoka can be docile, but he’s still very cold. (That said… there a few people he incidentally may take it out on.)

He may not break now, but maybe he needs one more thing to finally get him to snap. It is very hard to say when or where that exact trigger would come from. For Ushari, it was something little that set him off, a bunch of very little things that steadily kept building up. I not certain what Nyoka would do if it came to that, though.

He just wants to be left alone and live his life. Even with me saying all of this though, I still don’t really see him doing it either.

Pretty sure it wouldn’t involve mass-murder. That’s a bit much.

——

So yeah. All this to say: I don’t know lol Everyone has the capacity to if only according to the worldbuilding, but 🤷 If there’s anything the actual canon overblotters have, it’s a very strong desire for something they really want, especially something they can change. At least as far as my understanding goes. I’m not saying these three don’t want things or don’t have desires, I just… don’t see any of what they want going that far.

Not helping that the characters they’re twisted from come from a post-“classic-villain” era. 2 out of 3 are already “villain” deconstructions anyway (spoilers it’s not the snake). What would be the point? Besides, the canon OBs already exist. I don’t have a strong desire to really … idk, try any hand at it. Not at this time.

But, hey, I’m all for non-canonical bonus-boss DLC material even if I can’t really think of anything. However, I’m kind of bad at going with the flow sometimes out of fear of being misinterpreted too badly. Sometimes others are more interested in an idea or a direction than I ever would be, and I end up changing my mind a lot.

Sorry that there were no pictures. I’m a bad artist. If you read this ermmmm …tell me if seeing hypothetical overblot appearances would be neat or not (UPDATE: I caved I guess.)

and sorry for the cringe crash courses infected by personal opinions 🫡 I have more knowledge on this junk than I’d care to admit and it often goes nowhere. I can’t even watch youtubers talk about this because I know what stuff isn’t addressed 😩

[balkanradfem]

How I quit religion

Parts of this story are dark (religious abuse, suicidal ideologies), and I am going to leave some things out to prevent any identifying information.

I was born in a place of religious women, and m*n who also belonged to the religion, but had none of the obligations or pressure to practice it, and nobody judged them for what they did. As a female child, it was mandated that I be in church every Sunday, or even multiple times a week if there was a special mass, I had to confess my sins regularly, attend religious classes, go trough religious ceremonies and practice catholic holidays. I didn't question it much at the start, because everyone was doing it; though males did way less. The church was filled with women, everyone was attending those classes and ceremonies, everyone believed in what the Bible was saying. But I had an additional problem with religion, that I couldn't tell if everyone else also had going on, or if it was just me.

I had a family member, who was not mentally healthy, and liked to use religion to gain control of other family members. 'God's watching you, he will get you for this, you will burn in hell forever for this, you'll get yours' were phrases commonly thrown at me during my childhood, and I started to get a sense, that I was in fact, constantly watched. I would become so self conscious I couldn't be alone in my room without the sense of being monitored, judged, and having someone plan a punishment for anything that could be perceived as wrong.

This will get worse over time!

One thing about me that nobody liked or approved of, was my deep belief that I knew better than anyone else, so I kept my opinions to myself. But listening to what god did in my religious classes, I felt like he went very wrong with how he was getting things done. Making people then putting one tree in front of them and telling them not to taste that? Rookie mistake. Don't put the tree there if you don't want them to eat that. Why was that so hard for him to figure out?

I also felt a lot of disdain towards 'drowning all people because people were bad', because I knew not all people were bad, and this god just didn't feel like picking out who was good and who was bad, and drowned everyone but one guy and his wife. This god was lazy! I had my own ideas about how I would handle that situation and it was not a genocide. So of course I felt my methods were superior.

Things we learned in our religious classes also helped me get more critical; we started learning about religious wars, and I was affronted by this; I was anti war. Having a war in the name of religion felt like two opposing things that should not overlap; religion was supposed to bring peace, help the poor, help people be good. Why was it committing mass murder? At one point we learned about catholics putting small kids on the front lines of a battle, hoping the enemies would show mercy and not attack the children, but the result was that all kids were killed. This was my turning point. I was looking at the preacher in disbelief, was I still supposed to support this religion if these were the foundations? They put their kid's lives on the lines instead of their own? Despicable, gross and disgusting behaviour. I wouldn't stand for this. But everyone else in class was apathetic and non-reactive, I was the only one mad and upset about the situation.

The preacher also decided to tell us later on that the story of Adam and Eve was made up, and that we now actually agree with evolution theory, and as much as I appreciated having the human evolution explained to me, I would not forget that they lied to us. If they could lie to us about Adam and Eve, what else was fake? What else was just a made up story?

I started to think that everyone around me was just pretending to believe all this, because it stopped making sense. If god did exist, why were horrible things happening constantly, to good people? Why was I being told to fear god and expect judgment and punishment if he was supposed to love me? I couldn't make sense of it, but I also didn't yet completely stop believing, because it felt weird that everyone else still did. It was still very much expected of me to believe, and felt like a too big of a step to take, to single myself out from the entire community, family and surroundings, by deciding I'm just not into this anymore. It takes a big push for a person to do that.

But I had that push. If you remember a family member who liked to convince me that god is after me and going to get me, this got way worse when I was in my early teenage years. The threats and the fear-mongering now turned into full blown out screaming about how I would burn in hell forever, and this went on for hours, sometimes multiple times a week. And I was just a girl, susceptible to what I was being told, or screamed at, and eventually I started thinking it's true. I was holding beliefs against god, and I guessed that for thinking that I was smarter, could do better, I was being offensive and sinful. I couldn't think of anything worse that I'd done to deserve eternal damnation, but from how often I was being being threatened with it, I couldn't fight the idea with a clear mind anymore. I became convinced that regardless of what I do for the rest of my life, even if I spent every moment being kind and good and nice to everyone, I would still burn in hell, just for my secret inner thoughts.

This made living difficult for me.

Things stopped making sense. Why was I trying so hard to be kind if at the end, I would just be burned forever? If this punishment is coming for me anyway, wouldn't it be better if I just go now, instead of anticipating it all my life? What is the point of even being alive, if I can never redeem myself, if I can never do anything to change what the ending would be? I lost my will to live because all I could see is the hell awaiting for me, and I would be devoured by it no matter what. It felt hopeless.

Unless, if it wasn't real.

Unless I was being suicidal over something made up, and there was no hell. No heaven. No god. No nothing. What if I was being tortured by empty tales? Could I decide that hell didn't exist? Could I stop my spiraling just by deciding none of this is real, and that I don't need to fear eternal damnation because it was made up?

And so I did just that. It took me a week to analyze the entire premise of christianity – god made us, now he judges us, but still allows whatever to happen, only punishes bad people later – it made no sense. Because god doesn't need to do any of that, in the original premise he is all-powerful, he can make thousands of worlds and not care at all, why would he be preoccupied with actions of individual people? If he was involved, then why would he let people like my family member, use his name to threaten others? If he's all powerful why would he care about what people do at all? He doesn't need people. We're no use to him.

But people need god. They need to believe there's some higher force who will be there when they need something to go their way, who would make things okay for them, who would bend chance and fate to protect them from random disasters, who would punish everyone that was cruel to them. They needed god to make the world safe and just. And also, I felt, for mass control of people's behaviour. Hell is a big threat of punishment if you don't follow the rules, and how else can you make people follow rules except with a threat like that?

But I didn't need to be threatened. Kindness came naturally to me. I wouldn't hurt people regardless of eternal punishment. I could opt out and still be a positive force in the world.

And so I quit. I remember still giving it the slightest chance when I had my last religious ceremony at the age of 16; I said okay last chance, god, if you're real, give me any kind of sign by the time this ceremony is over, anything I will notice, it can be anything. I'm paying attention.

The ceremony was over rapidly. No sign whatsoever. I remember standing there in the church afterwards, in my weird religious outfit, with complete certainty then. Yep, I thought so. I'm alone from here on.

I was a practical girlie. What's the point of god if you can't count on him to do one thing.

I had to tell my friend I didn't believe in god anymore; she was scandalized, and thought I was lying. She would accept it a few years down the line. I had to tell my religious teacher in high school, and I tried to explain myself and said: 'I just started thinking it trough—'

'You started doubting.' She cut me off.

I looked back at her astounded. I knew I was being chastised for my doubt, but if something would fall apart the second you had a doubtful thought about it, wasn't it obviously fake and worthless? I couldn't understand how she could keep believing in something while knowing that a single critical thought would tear it into pieces. I started losing respect for her intelligence. Cultural pressure went over my head in that one.

I never went to church again, and the local priest was offended; he came to our house and confronted me about it, and I just said 'no I don't believe in your religion', and he came down at me with 'you'll never be allowed to marry in church' and I shrugged my shoulders and said 'fine'. He was not expecting that, and then told me I need to come tomorrow and sign a document saying that I will never be getting married in a church, and I again shrugged and said 'fine'. But I didn't go, I was offended that he thought I should be doing his work for him, and I certainly would not step a foot into a church. Ew.

I was also offended that he stopped me in the middle of carrying laundry up to dry just to confront me about his nonsense, can you imagine standing in a way of a woman carrying out a task? I thought it was sinful behaviour. Doesn't that go against religion? And why did he think that banning me from marriage was a functional threat, was I supposed to care about marriage? I've seen marriages and wanted no part of that. I didn't yet understand that young women were groomed to believe they were only good for marriage; I wasn't yet aware that it didn't work on me because I was a lesbian so a marriage to a male was a bigger threat than anything that guy could say to me.

That's another reason I was incompatible with religion; I immediately gave myself the permission to judge the priest. Holy authority meant nothing to me. Even as a child I was passing judgment on god. I knew better. The priest was just some guy who believed in nonsense. My family was disgusted with my behaviour. I could not have cared less.

I had, during my young adulthood, researched all other religions and read countless spiritual books, to see what the difference was, and if anything clicked. I was shocked to find out that all major religions of the world had the almost exact same story, same beliefs, just different practices; I couldn't understand why they all had beef with each other then.

I became engaged in spirituality. For a while I was trying to see auras, meditating regularly, communicating with angels and ghosts and spirits, until I realized all of that was bad for my mental health, so I quit spirituality as well. In the heart of every spiritual movement was intense victim blaming, and every time I would find it deep and hidden inside the books, I would lose heart and get more mentally ill. I was also scared I would get recruited into a cult and stayed away from other 'spiritual' people, I could tell I was vulnerable to it and that I have to clock and block every woowoo person I see. Most people writing spiritual books are doing it indoctrinate readers in their personal cult and I could tell by then.

I had to figure it out for my own, without looking for answers in a book.

Years later, I would finally read my first feminist analysis of religion, to find out that not only it's deeply oppressive but also massively sexist and homophobic. My resolve to keep away from it only steeled up with every new information I got, especially the latest one, finding out that in my area catholic religion allowed people to enslave people of other religion. Excuse me? It also enraged me to find out we used to have a pagan tradition, protecting nature and holding it sacred, only to have it obliterated and nature recontextualized to resources we can just exploit for money, causing destruction and global warming. Religion is about lying to gain control and getting away with crimes against women and environment. They were not only vital in the oppression of women, but the destruction of the environment as well. I live here! I am a woman! How dare you.

Learning about the lost culture of paganisam made me sad. Apparently we had big statues of gods and goddesses of nature in forests, and the religious freaks destroyed them all. I would have loved to stumble on a statue of a goddess while wandering trough the forest, and to know that she is keeping the trees and the mushrooms safe. Our pagan origin story was not as sexist as the christian one; in our version we had both a male god and a female goddess; they made people out of different types of trees, women from linden, males from oak trees. The trees became sacred and we cultivated so many, there's still plentiful of both oaks and lindens everywhere, in every village and city. Isn't that a good spiritual practice, planting trees? It makes sense to me.

I don't believe that in the times of paganism there was no sexism; I'm sure some awful shit was going down, and that women suffered due to it. So I'm not trying to go back, or revive the practice, but I do like celebrations of natural cycles and sunlight and holding the soil sacred. Those are compatible with human life. I found nothing on this world worth worshiping as much as women, trees and sources of water. These are life-giving and invaluable. So I will stick to that. It feels right.

[diamondkat]

I recently saw someone make an argument that Sinners deserved to have genocide committed against them because they are all rapists and murderers while getting upset at Charlie for trying to redeem these rapists and murderers to heaven where their victims are. I have always found this argument weird because even if they are all rapists and murderers, they are already basically in prison. Why do you think it is right for someone already facing a life sentence to have to deal with people regularly coming into the prison to indiscriminately kill them? They had already been kept separately from heaven. Charlie would not have felt the need to redeem them to heaven if heaven had not been committing genocide every year.

That's before we even get to the fact that everyone in hell are not there for being rapists and murderers. Living in hell might make you have to pick up some skills at murder but that doesn't mean that everyone in hell either committed murder or rape. Hell is basically an open-air prison and like most prisons where nothing is being done to rehabilitate or even watch over the prisoners, the worse people gain power over the other prisoners. Prisoners who come in for relatively minor offences become worse people than they were when they arrived to survive.

Under Christianity, things that can send you hell range from murder to telling lies to not being charitable. If we decide to go with Hazbin being only closely based on Christianity, then there is the fact that Hell in Hazbin is like a prison and just like a prison, murder and rape aren't the only reason people end up there. There are also thieves, arsonists, embezzlers, liars, and so on. Crimes range from severe to minor. However, they always throw rape and murder out as if they are the only things that could send a person to hell because those are the worst crimes they can think of that they feel validate committing genocide on people already serving an eternal sentence. This is before you even consider that there are child sinners in hell.

There are child sinners in the cannibal colony. We know that the cannibals are sinners because the exorcist killing them did not break the agreement with heaven and the playbill states that most of them were part of a colony that died in the 1910s. These children ended up in hell with the rest of their families because they partook in cannibalism. It didn't matter that why they did it or that they were children. Cannibalism was enough to send them to hell. If children can be sent to hell, then I doubt that rape and murder are the only things that people go to hell for. For those who might want to complain that this makes heaven look bad. I don't know how to break it to you that the system being flawed is one of the central themes of the story.

I can understand liking a character that commits genocide. I have a few genocidal/omnicidal faves myself. However, I have never felt the need to make excuses for why all their victims deserve it. There might be some that triggered it but by the time they are on the genocide route, they become like a natural disaster targeting both the deserving and undeserving. The beauty of a genocidal character for me is not having to overthink why they killed a specific person. They didn't have to do anything to deserve death, they just happened to be there.

[maryawrites]

Sfumato - Chapter 2

There's an omegaverse reference. Sorry.

Worst!Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Cis! Female Reader, Post DPAW

CW: religious trauma, referenced past child abuse, less ugly burning yearning this chapter, serious religious themes and references, referenced past animal death, C-PTSD, themes of early stage Major Depressive Disorder, unhealthy familial relationships, the story is partially autobiographical, the (Name) in this is a little emotionally stunted and horrible but that's what character development is for

Divider by @/saradika

  I wish I could say I handled the rest of the time they were in the diner with grace. 

  I did not, though. 

  Thank God, no one else happened to come in while Wade and Logan were there. I couldn’t have contained myself and watched Lily take more of my burden. I guess today was a bit on the slower side. How lucky for me. 

  But, as I said, I was not graceful. I was not putting myself to work in the kitchen, or at least assisting Lily behind closed doors. No. I was still, still hiding behind the door, pressing my ear to the wood to avoid being seen while remaining a spy, letting the commercial kitchen island block my coworkers view of me and my sick behaviour. I think they just ignored me after a while, though. Every line cook- Gav, Dan, and Michael- seemed to accept my position as a new normal as they half-mindedly kept the kitchen in check and went on their self-imposed breaks. 

  It’s a slow time. I can’t say it’s an easy time, though, on my part. I’ve found myself having a taste for voyeurism. Is this how God feels, every moment of every day, since He sees all, hears all, tastes all? I always thought God must be stern and cold. Now I think He must be sick with adrenaline constantly, He must be positively drunk on it. It must feel so good to be God. You could do anything you want, because you lie well outside any type of punishment. Your actions and words are law. Killing your soul must feel good to God; He hurts people all of the time. Or He lets them hurt, which, secretly, I don’t think is much different. 

  But there is a difference: I am a sick voyeur. God can commit no sin. He Himself lies outside His own bounds.

  How dare I relate myself to God.

  It’s the split second that I lean back to swallow down my nausea after my accidental deification that Lily returns from bringing the pair two slices of apple pie and one serving of rice pudding that my creeping meets its painful end. I hadn’t heard her coming, and my brief moment of vulnerability rewards me with the door getting smacked into my face as I kneel on the ground. 

  I regain some composure after my ego is sorely bruised, ending my escapade as Lily tries to assure me hushedly that Wade and Logan didn’t see it, or perhaps they just assumed it was someone cleaning up a spill. 

  It does not help.

  I am humiliated. Again. 

-

  Then the pair leave, it’s like a weight has been removed from my body. But it is not quite a relief- it feels more like someone has run off with an organ and I am left only with a gap of air in my body. I never thought being left alone would feel so odd. Yes, I’ve always yearned for my grandmother’s love, but my heart rate only ever slowed when I was alone. I feel disappointed that my heart rate slows now.

  The rest of my shift goes as usual- a rush of dirty dishes and lack-luster small talk, men with watching eyes and women with bitten lips. I take their orders and I nod my head. Gav offers me a cigarette in the kitchen sometimes between the dinner rush and the 9 o’clock rush, and I will admit here, and only here, that I was tempted. My throat was dry and my bones tried to pull me closer and I declined him. I wasn't tired, per se- No, I hadn’t done anything worthy of being weary. But I felt the earth pulling me close, whispering and trying to draw me in. 

  By the time my shift ends, I am still dry. My eyes, my hands, my lips. I take careful time scrubbing the dishes clean and wiping down the booths and tables, consider coming in to wax the chrome sit-down counter on Sunday. Our day off, theoretically, but I have never known a day that wasn’t full of work. My grandmother always said I was such a canine assistant, a shepherd or hound- made to work. Always willing to work. She’d croon over how close I am to a dog while I’d pant in her garden, tiny hands grasping at weeds while the sun peeled the skin back from me like the fruit of Eden. Such a good girl. I always had one more prayer in me, just one more for her, something she always promised me while twisting my cheek numb between her fingers as I kneeled to the ground, all scraped knees and baby-skin. 

  I am good. I will scald myself clean as she did years ago. 

  The thought guides me back down to my wet hands, my eyes peering through the sheen of dish-washer as I raise my hands from the water. 

  A dish sink, shoved into the back of a commercial kitchen, no sounds but water slopping against the sides and far off laughter. The soap in my hangnails- an offering. The tub of thick plastic I brought in after the last patron left- an altar. 

  You can’t see it anymore. My hands look normal, from anyone else's view. You’d have to get very close, and feel very well to know anything ever happened. 

  Gloves that prove my loyalty to purity.

  I was six. I had been six years old for two days. Her cat had died by some mysterious circumstance, its head cleaved off. It was one of the few animals I had ever intimately confronted, and I loved it. I picked up its head, because what else is a stunned child supposed to do? Should a stunned child have thrown it away? Run into the house, screaming? Broken down in tears? I wish I had at least moved. Run away to somewhere inconspicuous. I had known death impersonally- something right around the corner, something God dangles over our heads as punishment and reward alike. It was the first time I had ever seen a dead thing. 

  She was the one who screamed. Who scooped me up and dragged me into the house, my grandmother’s nails slicing my skin in her hold. I’ve never known anyone who could heat up a pot of water as quickly as her. She insisted I’d tainted my soul through my skin. I never found out what happened to the cat after that. What she did with it. 

  I jump out my skin when a hand brushes between my shoulder blades, my head nearly twisting off my shoulders as I turn to see Lily, warily observing me. Her expression clears immediately as our eyes meet, and she speaks as if she did not find me in the middle of confession. 

  “Okay, so, I know ‘M usually pretty lax about your social hang-ups; but, (Name), girl, what happened today? You were totally out of it. (Name), you were acting like a stalker. A very, very shy stalker. What was that? I’m not letting you go until I get an answer.”

  ‘I’m not letting you go until I get an answer’. 

  I’m not letting you go until I get an answer. 

  I can only stare at her for a second, struggling to piece together this life from a former one. All words have dried up in my lungs, and I glance around the kitchen, only to find it empty and the sink and walls behind me. And she stands in front of me, like a pillar. 

  I think I’ve swallowed my tongue. 

  “I don’t know.” 

  My words come before I can register that I’ve even thought to say them, and it takes me several moments before I realize I’m the one who spoke. ‘I don’t know’ is not a real answer. 

  The air is still. Quiet.

  Every hair on my body raises to the ceiling as her body shifts. 

  But I only get to watch her walk away, turning and going back to the back-door of the kitchen with an over-exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Whatever you say, sweetness. What-ever. I’ll get it out of you one day. My man’s here. See ya tomorrow, (Name).”

  She was here. And then she was not. Lily leaves me with nothing more than the echoing remains of a deep sigh. 

  She just… left. She’s gone. 

  The tips of my ears grow warm. I feel something surging, hot and fast, in my veins. It starts at my feet and reaches my fingers, making them twitch. 

  I throw up onto the floor a minute after she leaves, my feet frozen in place on the floor. 

  I get to sit and ruminate on my shameful thoughts and behaviour, my sickening life, as I stay an hour later than usual cleaning what got onto the floor and what got into my sink of almost-clean dishes. Not so clean anymore, I guess. I’m just sorry for the night shift staff who have to see it. 

  If killing myself wasn’t a sin, I’d go home to it like it’s my husband, with open arms and a full-body sense of peace. 

-

  My face is still warm and my hair slings to my head, damp from sweat and steam, when I get back to my floor. I am hot, yes, but I have never felt colder. I feel heavy. Whatever piece my neighbors took when they left, it has been returned tenfold. I could sink into the ground. I genuinely don’t understand how I could ever possibly smile again. Tonight, when I pray, I think I will tell the Lord about every way I dreamt about dying on the bus ride home. And then I will apologize. And then I will cry and pant and dig my knees deep into the floor at my bedside, because it’s always the same fucking cycle. I’ve had the same night every night since I turned twelve.

  Hell can’t be that bad. God can kill me in my sleep, if he wants. I don’t care. In Hell, you would have to get used to the pain eventually. But in this awful, awful life, every pain is new and sharp and fresh, no matter how many times I’ve gone through them.  

  What’s the deal with Hell, anyways? What’s the deal with angels and devils? Everything I’ve ever heard about angels has been inhumane. Never have I been fed stories about repurposed Roman cherubs or dove-winged counselors. Angels were always something else. An else that no one’s been able to identify for me yet. But demons always made sense to me, in a way, not that I ever dared to tell anyone that. They had bodies, and they had accidents, and they felt pain and envy and weariness. Aren’t humans closer to demons than angels, technically? I mean, we were made to be God’s companions, and we failed by pushing our bounds, and demons were supposed to be angels, but they failed by pushing their bounds, too. And we both got to fall. 

  But I push those thoughts from my mind as I approach my door, reaching around my bag for my keys. Those types of thoughts make me feel odd. They make me feel tight, and uncomfortable, like you do right before you walk into a room that’s holding a surprise party for you that you don’t know about. I have to push those considerations away, because I don’t know what to do with them. They are not true. They can’t be. That doesn’t seem right. But it follows a level of logic that confuses me. I have to swallow those wonderings for my own well-being.

  I’m pushing my key into the lock when the door down the hall almost immediately swings open, and I’m too stunned by the sudden movement to react. Before I can process what just happened, I’m gifted with something else to process- namely, the 6’2 man standing across from me, leaning against the wall nonchalantly, as if expecting me to greet him. 

  Surprisingly, Wade’s skin doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I’ve acclimated quite well to it- which isn’t something to be proud of, but it surprises me. 

  Then again, my epitome of love was a half-naked dead Jewish man torn and bloodied, crucified on a cross for my entire childhood. 

  We stand in silence for a moment more before I turn back to my door, unlocking it in silence. 

  My apathy gains a drawn out, guttural whine from my neighbor, and he slothfully pulls himself up from the wall to stand, stepping back. 

  “You could at least say hi, (Name). Is your dick really in a knot because Logan and I just so happened to eat lunch where you work?”

  His phrasing does get my attention, and I grow flustered, scoffing as I look up at him. I should really be holding myself better, but I’m tired, and he’s the one who’s dragged me into this mood. I’m sure he deals with much snappier people, anyways. 

  “I’m not angry because you went there. Don’t interpret me wrong. I was on my break, actually, so I couldn’t serve you. That’s all.” I reply in a tone of voice much more stale than I intend, surprising myself. When did I get so bland? 

  It seems to surprise Wade, too, because he makes a low sound of interest and smiles slyly, crossing his arms like some catty old gossip, as if I’ve finally caught his attention. That makes me a little angrier, too, for some reason. At least I’m entertaining him. I don’t get why I’m so irritable. But his voice keeps my attention on him and not my new, odd disposition. “Ooh-ho, my, someone’s frustrated. There’s no way little ol’ me and less little ol’ Logan worked you up that much. Is your dick in a knot or does it need to knot?” 

  “What does that even mean?” I mutter in irritation as I turn back to my door, finally unlocking it all the way and pushing it open, trying to shove him out of my mind. 

  “So, what is the deal? Drop some plates? Cuss out a customer? Did a hypothetical coworker flirt with your hypothetical roguishly good looking neighbor and his hypothetical mid-tier roommate? Hypothetically? 

   “I don’t know.” I snarl before slamming the door shut behind me, right in his face. It takes me a moment before I realize what I’ve done. I’ve shocked myself again. I… didn’t think I was capable of talking to someone like that. And I didn't think it was possible to not feel bad about it. 

  I know it was wrong to do that. To snap at him and shut the door in his face, and I logically know I was wrong. But I don’t feel instinctually bad, somehow. I don’t feel shame and fear washing over me, and it’s so… odd. All I feel is the way I’ve felt since I got off my shift- like I’ve been hollowed out and filled with lead. I must be really tired to have done something like that. I must have reached a new level of weariness to have felt no remorse, too. 

  I stand frozen in my living room for a long while, disassociated into my thoughts as I stare into the empty night air in front of me. When I finally think to go back to my door and apologize, I do it swiftly, throwing it open at the same speed I’d slammed it shut. Only to find nothing.

  The hallway is so empty of life I think I might’ve imagined Wade there. Perhaps I really, really am being driven insane by the flesh. I seriously ponder the possibility before I hear the door down the hall lock with a click. 

  Huh.

  I turn slowly, slipping back into my apartment in silence. I don’t know why I don’t feel ashamed. I know I am a bad person. I know I was wrong. But I can't find the energy in me to care. 

  I drag myself over to my couch and fall asleep right there. 

  I will be better tomorrow. I have to be. 

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Kafka with a tsundere reader (I love Kafka SO MUCH…)

Kafka with a tsundere reader

characters: Kafka x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: GET YOUR WISHES READY. IT'S HAPPENING. Less than 24 hours until Kafka releases. So I decided now would be a great opportunity to write something for her, as something of an offering to the Gacha gods...

I'm so down bad for this woman. I swear...

I wish everyone pulling for her the best of luck and I’ll see you on the other side!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Kafka

While the Stellaron Hunters were composed of all different kinds of personalities, the ones Kafka kept around herself the most weren’t the most jovial of creatures. Silverwolf ironically preferred to ignore the tendencies of the animal in her name and rather work alone, while Bladie never was all too talkative in the first place.

And then there was you, someone trying so hard to match the stone-faced attitudes of your co-workers, that it was almost a crime not to try and get you to show your real feelings. A crime Kafka for once in her life didn’t intend to commit.

Kafka’s teasing was a misfortune every Stellaron Hunter working with her at least once had to endure. One you begrudgingly had to admit was fun to watch whenever you weren’t her target, the urge to join in whenever the purple-haired woman broke through Silverwolfs stoic facade forcing you to bundle up all of your self-control on more than one occasion.

Today however, was not your lucky day, as it quickly became clear who today’s victim would be.

“Come on, finish what you just wanted to say”, Kafka urged you to continue with a smile so devilish even Nanook would have felt creeped out. It had been foolish enough of you to let your compliment slip out in the first place, especially when Blade and Silverwolf were in the room, but all hopes of not drawing a giant Target on yourself were lost when you cut yourself off in the middle of your sentence, making the fact that it was a slip up as clear as day.

“There is nothing to finish, I was just talking to myself”, you lied as naturally as you breathed, hoping it would be enough to get Kafka to stop. Only for your hopes to be crushed in front of your very eyes as you saw her face light up in a familiar way, one signaling that giving up was the last thing on her mind right now.

“You’re lying.” While being called out on your obvious lie already was enough to make you lose your composure, her teasing tone sent blood flooding directly into your cheeks, causing them to turn red in almost an instant

With one swift turn of your head towards Blade you silently begged him for help, only for your fellow Stellaron Hunter to face away, putting all of his attention onto his weapon. And while you ought to have felt betrayed by his action, knowing how you did the same whenever it was someone else’s turn made you unable to hold a grudge against him.

Silverwolf however was a different story. As when you glanced towards her, you weren’t just brushed off, but instead were greeted by an amused smile, one radiating enough Schadenfreude to feed an entire planet of sadists. Before you knew it however, your attention was once again drawn to Kafka as you tried your best to find the right words to say.

“...I said the new coat suits you”, you murmured out just loud enough for her to hear you, nevertheless she gave you one more teasing smile, one wider than all of the previous.

“That’s interesting, I could have sworn I’ve heard a ‘B’ somewhere. Something along the lines of ‘You look beau-’”, she continued, dragging the last word out in anticipation of what you would say while forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“You look beautiful today”, you finally whispered in defeat, her ears immediately picking up on your words. For a moment you expected her to pretend she didn’t hear you, forcing you to say it once again, just louder. However, it seemed as if getting you to spit it out was enough for her as she showed you a satisfied grin before letting you finally go. Sparring you the embarrassment of having your fellow crewmates hear what exactly you had said that caused you to get this stand-offish.

Or at least that’s what she let you think for a few seconds.

“Oh you think I look beautiful today? Thank you, you’ve got quite the looks yourself.” The big smile on Kafka’s face was hard to miss, although you were far too embarrassed to look back up at her, your red face glued to your shoes for at least the next hour.

No matter how hard you tried to match your colleagues' blank expressions, there was always one person for whom you were as easy to read as an open book.

[the-drokainian]

Not that anyone asked or wanted to know, but I had a thought. Fair warning this is all my own opinion and personal observations. That being said, Does anyone remember the Weredad episode of Miraculous Ladybug? Cause it's a weird thing in hindsight.

Let me break it down for you.

1 (One): The episode starts off with Ladybug and Chat Noir defeating an akuma fairly close to Marinette's home. As such, the girl detransforms on her roof. Then Chat shows up, noticing that Marinette is often found near an akuma sight whenever they are over. In an effort to commit the atrocity and war crime of small talk, the cat hero decides to ask a question in the most misleading way possible only to those who know Marinette's secret identity. Anyone else and they would just let him finish his question. Anyway, Marinette answers before he is done with the first thing that comes to mind to hide her alter ego. This so happens to be that she is In LOVE with Chat Noir. Now we all know that the Adrinette/Marichat/Ladrien/Ladynoir shippers immediately screamed like small children upon hearing this (and as a Marichat afficionado myself i to was excited) HOWEVER!! If you give it a second thought it brings up a couple questions: like "Why in the world would the first thing she thought of when asked why she was in a 'suspicious place' it's her own roof she can be there if she wants any time of day was a love confession to what amounts to this random guy who also just so happens to be a super hero?" Not only that but this was also meant to get him to ignore her and lose any suspicion or interest in her. A strange thought process when considering love confessions but that is an analysis for another day. What we are going to focus on this time is how Adrien-Obsessed-(yes Obsessed not love don't @ me)-Marinette even considered lying about romantic feelings for another individual. We all know she hates liars and lying, plus there are so many better lies that would have made more sense AND been in character for her. Such as being a fan/admirer of heroes, being worried for their health and well-being, bird watching, sun bathing, gardening, sketching, recording for the ladyblog, watching the sunrise/sunset, making fun of akumas and/or Hawkmoth, so on... It didn't need to be a good one, especially since she's a terrible liar anyways, but what was done, was completely out of left field for her. Which leads me to believe that this was a writer’s decision just for the 'plot'.

2(Two) This episode is a prime example of missed opportunity. Marinette is trapped, unable to transform without ousting her secret Identity and forced to act without her powers or abilities, meanwhile Chat Noir is alone fighting the Akuma without his Lady's support or direct. It's the perfect time to show that he can do this just as well as Ladybug and that he is her equal in every way! But wait! What's this? He can't do crap without potentially making everything worse or having Ladybug come up with a plan? He can't even physically take down the Akuma or outsmart him to get the upper hand?! Turns out the lesson all along was that Marinette/Ladybug is the only one that really matters in the end and Chat is just her goofy sidekick?!?!

WHAT THE HECK?!?!?! They are supposed to be partners and equals, if not as heroes then at least power wise, but NO!!! The cat ring is just a one trick pony and it's user couldn't find his way out of a paper bag without someone telling him how!!!

This was Adrien's moment! To show that he could solve his own problems and prove finally that he was on Marinette's level, but it just doesn't work like that, doesn't it. Everything and everyone has to solve all of his problems for him and he never has to be in the wrong or deal with anything important himself. Was Marinette in the right in this episode? No. She lied to save her skin unnecessarily and caused an Akuma in the process, and this wouldn't be the first time something similar has happened *cough*phonethief*cough* but in her defense she always actively tries to solve the problems she causes and often moves mountains in the process of going above and beyond expectations. Even when she doesn't have to or want to.

Sunshine however, has not ONCE solved anything on his own in or out of the mask and Weredad shows that plain as day.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk, have a good one.

[childrenofcain-if]

Hi! I want to start by warning that this will probably be a long rant about how much i love your IFs. But first, I hope you feel better soon!

The first IF of yours i played was the pjo one, which sent me down a rabbit hole of going through the rest of them (still haven't played tcs but i will soon 🤞🏻). It was just BAFFLING how people could be so purposefully ignorant about the concept of fanfiction and accused you over and over of plagiarism like, please go outside and touch grass, clearly the internet has stopped your brain from developing critical thinking.

Anyways, the adaptation was so well done and faithful while also exuding a newness to it that i am very excited to see unravel. I understand at the moment it has been paused (and I don't know if you've addressed why it's no longer up) and i hope with time you can feel comfortable with it again. None of the shit you've gotten was deserved or even understandable but alas, it still happened. As a content creator myself, i truly truly sympathize with you. I hope these words offer some comfort, however small.

Same goes for WLB, but the awe at how descriptive and raw your writing is really peaked through in something of your own creation. I find myself revisiting it and experiencing the exhilaration from my first reading all over again. I can't wait to watch everyone around my mc descend into eldritch madness as they become more and more unhinged. Consequences of my own actions? Never heard of them, i want my mc to go apeshit!

Now, gods where do i start... TBOTYG is *chef's kiss* flawless, i never thought i could become so obsessed with anything with only one part. I awaited the demo with baited breath, already anticipating all the ways you would surprise and impress (and you did). Every choice, every scenario, the way you build your plot and characters, your descriptions (I don't know if you can tell that I'm a little too hung up on the writing aspect of it) of characters and actions and feelings. The amount of work and effort you put into characterization is so very clear and it feels very freeing to have that amount of control over a character that we're supposed to "relate" to (in the context of the narrative, almost as if living vicariously through them). i think that no matter how much time passes, your IFs will remain a staple in the community and every player who finds your gems will feel blessed and changed after playing.

It's gotten to the point I've created a whole google doc of my MC, and made fake ig accounts with interactions (just for myself, to cope with the anticipation) and this is a level of commitment I've only felt with my own OCs and works. In such a short time, your IFs have carved a deep space for themselves in my life. I find myself replaying and going through their official pages religiously even though I've read every post already.

a question! will every LI's gender be chosen individually? I'm wondering because C and D are suitmates, but is it doable if they're different genders? same for mc and V. I'm thinking yes but also wanted to be sure

Honestly very very sorry for the long rant, I'm sure you have better things to do 😭😭 but i had the uncontrollable urge to express my feelings on your art and it took me an entire day of trying to talk myself out of it (i failed).

(also, here's my mc's profile and dm box. her royal highness maxine's ig profile is private btw. going for c route first. Mitică is the romanian diminutive for the name Dimitru, and opsis is an ancient greek concept i thought would fit V)

i’m speechless (sentimentally), dear reader 😭 i still can’t believe some people would take the time out of their day to think about my silly little worlds and the characters in it, less of all like how i’ve written my works. every single time i hit a writer’s block or have the whole doxxing trauma flare up again, i think of quitting but it’s the urge to write stories and the joy of sharing it with everyone that is still keeping me going.

i can’t explain how much your words mean to me because this is what i write for. to have people relate to or identify with or adore the world and characters i’ve built is such a dream within itself. from the bottom of my heart, i am thankful for every single reader who has always been nothing but supportive from day one. if elias has his apple, i have y’all. and no, it doesn’t mean y’all can have my meagre inheritance but it’s the sentiment that counts.

to answer your question, every single LIs gender will be selectable! blackthorne hall has individual bedrooms per suite so y’all will only be sharing the common areas and kitchenette with V while having your own personal space. it’s more like an apartment than a usual college dorm tbh.

oh and please, rant away! i’d love nothing more than to hear about your MCs and the various headcanons, questions, or theories you might have!

(also please knock C down a few pegs, they desperately need it 😔)

[themenendezbrothers]

ERIK MENENDEZ'S RESENTENCING STATEMENT

RESENTENCING STATEMENT

I want to express my gratitude for the opportunity to address the court and my family. It is an incredible privilege to be able to speak before the court today. I do so with deep recognition of the gravity of these proceedings and with profound sorrow for everyone in my family, all of whom are still deeply impacted by the tragedy I created.

Thirty-five years ago, on August 20, 1989, I committed an atrocious act of brutality against two people who had every right to live. I took the lives of Mary Louise Menendez and Jose Enrique Menendez, my mother and father.

My actions were criminal; they were also selfish, cruel, and cowardly. I stole from my parents the right to a full life. I took from my relatives the right to share a life with my parents. I stole from the neighbors the right to a peaceful and safe community. I have no excuse, no justification for what I did, there is nothing that can make it any less wrong.

I take full responsibility for my crime and blame no one else.

I was the one who reached out to my 21-year old brother that Tuesday for help.

I was the one who convinced him that we couldn’t escape.

I was the one who was too ashamed to turn to my family or anyone else for help,

I was the one who didn’t trust in the police when I should have;

Instead, I bought guns, I bought ammunition, and I barged into the den where my parents were watching television. I fired all five rounds at my parents. Then I ran back out to the car to get more ammunition. Neither my brother nor I stopped until my parents were dead. Afterwards, I tried to create an alibi at the movie theater, I discarded the guns, and I did everything I could to get away with my crimes. I lied to police about what I had done. I lied to my family.

I am truly sorry. This crime should never have happened. My parents should be alive. They’re not, and I know that’s because of me.

I often find myself reflecting on what the week of August 20 must have been like for my relatives, and my heart breaks as I try to imagine it. What was that phone call like for them? I replay it over and over in my mind. I try to imagine the shock and grief they must have felt the moment they learned of their daughter’s death, their sister’s death, their aunt’s death. What crushing torment they must have felt. I can only imagine the fear, the pain, and the trauma it caused them.

I had to stop being selfish and immature to really try to feel what my parents must have gone through on August 20, 1989. I remember trying to put myself in their shoes, to see my crime through their eyes. I imagined the terror they must have felt when their own son pointed a gun at them. I tried to understand the fear, the confusion, the overwhelming sense of betrayal. I thought about my mother witnessing her husband’s death and the physical and emotional anguish she must have felt, unable to stop it. I imagined their last moments, over and over again, with my eyes closed, until the true weight of my actions began to sink in.

And then, only then, could I finally face just how horrific what I did really was.

My crime was not just criminal and wrong and immoral, it was cruel and vicious; it was more than the murder of two people, it was the infliction of unimaginable and horrible suffering on them and everyone who loved them. I am directly responsible for it all.

My choices that night robbed my parents of their full lives, My choices stole their love and companionship from everyone who loved them.

My choices drained their joy from Christmas gatherings, holidays, and family gatherings. Rather than celebration and togetherness, a heaviness hung in the air-crushing sadness that became a numbness and emptiness in the hearts of my Aunt Terry, my Aunt Joan, my Uncle Carlos, my Aunt Marta, my Uncle Brian and Uncle Milton, and every niece and nephew who loved them.

I don’t have to imagine this painful truth. My family has shared this deep sorrow with me. As if this was not enough, my family has had to endure a public spotlight that they did not ask for or deserve, even until today.

After the killings, I denied all responsibility.

I lied to the police investigators at the scene, and I lied to the Beverly Hills detectives investigating the murder of my parents.

I lied to my relatives even as they grieved and I lied to everyone else about my involvement in the crime. I even blamed others.

I am sorry for these lies and for failing in my responsibility to my family and community. There is no excuse for my behavior.

My arrest and trials compounded the tragedy and grieving of my family. I could not find enough ways to apologize. But no apology could ever reduce their suffering by even a degree. Continually apologizing, I realized, was a selfish act. As much as I wanted release from my guilt and shame, there was no release from it. I had done the crime, and now I must live with it.

As I have matured, I have been able to face my devastating 18-year old decisions.

The killing of my parents isn’t something I could fold away inside me. I live with it every day, it is a part of my being, always present.

One of the truths that is not well known, but I have shared with my relatives, is that I talk to my mom. I cannot make peace with what I have done, but sharing my life with her, sharing my fears and hopes and asking for her guidance has become a daily practice for me. I miss my mom, but I also know I have no right to miss her, so I talk to her instead. And in the past year, I have started talking to my father.

During the past 35 years, I have worked hard to better understand how I became a person capable of killing my parents; I sought, selfishly, to loathe myself less; I sought to lessen the anguish that made me so self-destructive; I have sought to find a path to healing.

I have come a long way on this path, but I also believe it has no end. There can never be full healing from this crime. For me or for my family.

For most of my life, I believed I would die in prison. The weight of a life sentence without the possibility of parole broke me. I fell into a life on the maximum-security yard, where violence and misery were routine, the only constants.

For a long time, I lost all hope.

I lost myself.

I wasn’t the husband I should have been, and I became self-destructive.

My LWOP sentence felt like being trapped in a prison within a prison. I felt isolated from the opportunities for growth and redemption that others have, and I believed that I was beyond saving, not worthy.

Maybe that’s the point of the sentence, but for me, that hopelessness devastated me. It stifled my ability to heal and experience love within the prison community.

Depression spreads like wildfire here, and when hope is gone, pain takes its place. That pain hangs over so many of us and makes it hard to grow and heal.

In 2013, something shifted in me.

It became a turning point — I was given the opportunity to serve others. I began caring for the elderly, the disabled, and the terminally ill.

It may seem small, but that act of service changed everything for me. I mattered to others. I had purpose. I created the Life Care & Hospice program, and through that work, I discovered a new way of seeing life. I started focusing on living with purpose.

I began to understand what it means to form real connections—even in here. To be part of a community. To show up as a husband and a father, even from behind these walls.

I began getting involved in self-help programs.

I started educating myself, and then I began leading and encouraging others.

Thank you to my family for supporting me to have this opportunity today.

I know this has been a painful process.

You do not deserve what I did to you, but you inspire me to be better.

source: Robert Rand.

[and-i-will-kiss]

"You bastard, where's my money?"

"I won it fairly!"

"You cheated!"

These two are deep into a heated argument outside the green of the Troskowitz pub. It's late, I'm tired, but still... Sometimes I don't know what compels me to do things no one asked me to.

I pull out my most man-at-arms pose and question them. Look at me, an outsider imposing order where I wasn't welcomed. The thought never crossed my mind, it's just that I'm so used to stick my finger under peoples noses. But this isn't Sasau. Why oh why I never back up or think things through? Now I have two very angry men with the stare of two mastiffs about to maul a kitten. I braved it, maybe my hand-me-downs for armor that I have might intimidate them a bit. Not happening, so I gave my words a chance.

After some exchanges, I can't convince them. The worst part that this argument now has reached the point where I'm so involved in it that the men are increasingly angrier with me. Watch it, Henry, whatever you say might be used against you. But I just won't understand and my frustrations escape through my mouth.

"You are just blockheads."

Now I have two very irate men in front of me, ready to blow the candles out. We start fighting, obviously I'm in disadvantage from all sides. Not only there's two of them, fueled by cheap beer, and they hit like a donkey's kick. I'm getting destroyed. But once I manage to chuck a good right at one of them, I hear it. A night watch guard saw me and beelined to detain me. My rivals scatter, leaving me alone. I know it's not my fault, I think, but I already have a reputation in this town, who am I to change that now?

The guard looks impatiently at me. I try to dissuade him, but I know it won't work, from the look of his stern face.

"Pay up or else!"

My hands snake into my pouch. I don't have enough. I'm tired, beat and bloodied, I can't make a run for it. So the guard detains me, only destination is the pillory in the morning. The stocks aren't good, but at least I'll be free in a day.

But the guard has other intentions.

"You'll get 10 strokes of the cane in the morning!"

I shiver. Caning? I have done nothing to deserve this! I only tried to stop them! This isn't fair! But, well, I feel a bit guilty. I should have stayed away from this. Why I still pretend I'm down in Sasau? I just never learn and now this. I get bound and locked down in the morning. I can't sleep, my insides are chewing themselves up. I think of Ma, she would be shaking her head so bad right now. I wouldn't want to bring shame to her. I'm sorry.

At dawn I get tied to a post. The catchpole announces my crimes. Disturbing the peace, he says. All lies, I know it deep inside. But I'm the only witness to my innocence while the cane finally arrives right in the middle of my back. It stings like fury and fire. And there's nine more to go. I don't want to show pain and I hold my breath, but it's impossible and the third one makes me audibly groan. The townspeople have become a noisy beehive, bumbling buzz that surrounds my ears. The catchpole hits over one of the wounds and I can feel my back getting hotter and angrier with every lash. But then, after this eternity of pain, where my mind was just a blur of thoughts and shame, there's no more.

They cut my bounds, and I heavily fall on my knees. I just feel the breeze of the morning licking painfully my very sore back. I bet Ma is crying now. I'm really, really sorry, I should have known better. I know you didn't want me to become this, I bet you wanted me to stay quiet at home and help Pa. I miss your touch, Ma. You always patched me up good, I wish you were here now. I can't... I just can't.

Someone pulls me up by my shoulders and the only thing I can do now is give a grimace filled with pain and sadness. The only thing they dared to say was to not repeat what I did, that if they find me again committing something similar the punishment will be severe. But for me, as I am right now, it's just hot air. I pick myself up and tread slowly back to Tachov, where my bed awaits.

And I just slept dreamlessly until I heard Mutt scratching on the door.

(I reached Kuttenberg yesterday and it sure lives up to the hype! It's insane! I was on Pebbles and it truly felt like I was on top of the horse, sightseeing around. Also, the second map is just... impossibly large. I made the executive decision of slow down my pace and enjoy it slowly. Also, my Henry is getting beat up pretty easily, so there's a difficulty spike here as well. The button mapping in PS5 is awful and I just want WH to get rid of the Free Camera mode, it's a disaster when in combat, oof)

[studentbyday]

week 1 / small commitments challenge

Summary: I was not focused on my challenge goals this week. I was preoccupied, thinking about the different paths I could take and weighing my options for the next couple of years. Not a bad thing, except I let the thinking invade every moment of my life I had to myself. That includes when I was supposed to be studying ochem and when I was supposed to be sleeping and when I was supposed to just be getting on with my day and doing mindless self-care stuff as quickly as possible so I can dedicate time to what's urgent. Yes, I needed to weigh my options and gather information across multiple days, but I did not have to go about it the way I did. It led to me becoming overtired and having difficulty sleeping which led to me being unable to get through my ochem goals which prevented me from doing anything else. The more tired I became as the week progressed, the worse it got. So my two new priorities for next week are: No. 1: Get enough sleep with a consistent sleep time (9pm be in bed, 10pm at the latest) and wake time (7am ideal but 8am bare minimum). Soothe yourself until you're calm enough to sleep. Like you would a baby (e.g. swaddle, massage/gentle touch, dark room, don't voluntarily subject yourself to anything stressful or overstimulating in the half hour before bed). That's how you stop and keep out of the overtired cycle. No. 2: Lots of meditation throughout the day! 5-10 mins when I wake up, minimum of 10-15 mins before bed (unless perhaps i feel less frazzled thanks to the meditation breaks which help me stay focused throughout the day? idk), and 1-2 minutes in between big tasks (those that take 2h or more) in order to reset my mind before I move onto the next task and give my brain a rest after processing lots of info on a deep level, so it can sustain that level of activity throughout the day and the rest of the week. I'm hoping that by prioritizing rest, I can succeed at my new study routine (which has also changed from last week as my priorities have changed...yet again) and work more efficiently and quickly while staying cool in mind! A chaotic breakdown of the week aka my sleep-deprived end-of-day gibberish where I try to make sense of everything that's happened lies below 😅

Monday: sleep deprived -> slow start to the day -> quite behind schedule. i listened to 1 and a half chemistry lectures, added to the notes from last week, read and annotated 1 of the 2 sets of notes i'm supposed to read this week, and answered all except 4 questions of a practice quiz on last week's material. asides from this, i did 1/3 of an Algebra 1 lesson, took a nap, and practiced driving.

Tuesday: later start than yesterday bc i wanted to get enough sleep. overall worth it, but that meant there wasn't enough time to get everything done and there were lots of distractions to field. i only did ochem and practiced driving today. i didn't even finish all the ochem i wanted to (i finished 1.5 lectures again, added to notes, started reading the second set of notes for this week, and answered 1/4 of the questions for 1 of 2 assignments for this week). i'm still trying to find a routine that works for this subiect bc it's really condensed (most weeks cover 2 lengthy modules at once 😭) and it's not a subject that's that easy to feel confident in just right off the bat...at least for me 😅 who knows, perhaps for the time being, i'll have to spend more than 4 hours on it a day until i feel confident in the fundamentals?? i also have lots to improve on in my lecture notetaking skills (i.e. trust my memory more and write down notes only AFTER i finish watching a lecture instead of attempting to write notes DURING the lecture and getting confused -> rewinding)

Wednesday: my problem this week is that i'm very distracted. still trying to figure out which path is best for me (i.e. to transfer uni or change program within my uni if that's possible...definitely probably shouldn't stick with my current program tho, that's one thing i've pretty much decided), asking around, doing my own research, trying to think of any combo of reasonable options i haven't explored yet (this is what i was doing for a lot of today). i really hate unresolved issues. they stick around in my head until it's resolved and even if i'm not actively thinking about it, i can still feel its presence in the back of my mind (and if it's big and concerning enough, it will keep bugging me at inconvenient intervals)! 😤 and this issue will stay unresolved until i have made a decision. and even then, i might still question it until enough time passes to show me that it was the right decision 😅 it's like...either i'm in "re-assess" mode aka "question every decision i have made and could make and predict to the best of my knowledge where it will lead me and do i like where it leads me?" mode (WHICH CANNOT ALL BE ANSWERED IN ONE SITTING SO HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SCHEDULE THIS?!?! 😵‍💫😫), or "put your head down and do the work" mode wherein i'm in danger of losing sight of the bigger picture. i swing from one to the other whenever smth happens to make me realize i've stayed too long in one mode. (like in this case where i was feeling very annoyed with my current lifestyle, finally decided to say "fuck it" to my strong desire to stay within my comfort zone, and explored other options and their pros and cons which included grad school admission requirements 🤦🏻‍♀️). i'm grateful to have this many options, but today i got so overwhelmed by them and the deadlines by which i need to have made a decision and the fact that there's a lot of ochem this week to do which is more urgent but also not as existentially worrying that i decided to rid myself of the mounting anxiety with a cardio abs workout. 🥵😮‍💨😮‍💨 it worked...but now i am so pooped and don't wanna get up 😅 (update: i did get up and did a little more ochem)

Thursday: too tired to do all the ochem i wanted to (i did a little reading, a little bit of lecture watching, and finished the last 3 Qs on 1 of 2 assignments this week). i keep letting myself get overtired with my overthinking against my better judgment (like, especially after an intense workout the day before??? girl, you need to sleep!!!). anyway, i've finally pretty much decided to just switch programs at my current uni but i don't think i'll really believe i've made the decision (objectively! all on my own! using a weighted pros and cons list! 😁) until the end of this week. 😅 it will still be a more rigorous program, although not in the ways i expected (but still good!), and it will challenge me in all the right ways but i won't rack up as much expense (thank goodness! 🙏🏻) and it will be a shorter commute and i will get to spend more time with family which is just such a relief. i don't want to fall into the rat race mentality, tho sometimes i think i need to. but perhaps that's just FOMO and comparing myself against others in an unhealthy way. like, i don't actually want a rat-race/hustle culture type of life for myself if i have the option not to live one, yet i sometimes feel like i need to be a completely different person living a completely different lifestyle in order to really make it in this society...well, there are many ways to skin a cat.

Friday: ochem lab, watching another lecture, reading the ch, working on ochem assignment, and driving.

Weekend: sleepy. reset routine and family time. finishing up ochem submissions for this past week (done is better than perfect! 😤) and driving.

[szaryherbatnik]

Gonna preface this with three things: 1) I am not talking Virgil to you, unfortunately, I am talking Sarnax to you so uhh hopefully that's ok? 2) I have not actually watched/listened to COS I have gotten into it by proxy of fandom so please please please forgive me if the vibes are way off and 3) TWs for minor character death and burning alive 😅

Was listening to Shout Sister (by The Buttress) earlier and parts of the song give the vibes of Sarnax's cult (I forgor what they're called), especially towards the end.

"With my staff and my rod/We'll find peace within/I commit myself to God, leave my cause to him/As the flames lick our bodies/They could tear us limb from limb/Sisters, fix your gaze upwards/Feel no pain on your skin/End is nigh, my body is broken/I go now into the night, to die/Eyes and heart open/Hold the cross high so through the flames I can see/Oh my God, my life, it ends/Pray for me!"

I don't know if they did sacrifices to Gherix, but those are he vibes this gives me. The sacrifice is kneeling as the flame is brought closer, they're chanting and holding some kind of holy object until the flame gets close enough and they're caught in rapture as they see their God before they're engulfed in flame. They scream and scream because it *hurts* until eventually their body lies still as the flames smoulder on.

"It can not take long to die/There will be a little pain, but then it will end" Sarnax remembers the elders saying, telling him their sacrifice it would all be ok. But watching from the crowd, Sarnax realizes it really doesn't sound like a quick death, nor a painless one. He tries to convince himself they were screams of ecstacy, but he can never shake himself of the belief that they were in agony for those few moments. The elders ask why he hasn't been to a sacrifice since. He can't tell them that he spends the time praying fervently to Gherix for forgiveness of the doubts every new sacrifice instills in him.

Idk, maybe I'm just going insane. Sorry for the long af thing

I'm gonna preface my response with two things. 1) it is absolutely alright to not talk virgil to me I am happy to get asks of any kind, sarnax is my lovely, my patron saint, my best friend. I'm always happy to talk about him! 2) the vibes are not way off but for me to properly talk about the vibes im gonna SPOIL A LOT. I MEAN A LOT. ENDGAME SPOILERS. for curse of strahdanya and beneath dark wings actually. ooooh you have been warned !!!

(anon if you dont want spoilers and these are heavy ass spoilers im just gonna say the vibes are pretty much in the right place and the lyrics are very sarnax coded. i highly rec watching cos and bdw to get the full story!)

SO yeah the cult of gherix ABSOLUTELY does sacrifices. As a bit of exposure, the cult is situated below the treetop country of eyrios (populated by owl aarakocra) who are pretty violent towards the people who live below. pretty shitty place from a lot of points of view. and the cult of gherix did sacrifice a lot of the aarakocra to gherix, while collecting tar from the edelwood trees that would eventually be used to burn eyrios. in the last episode of cos it's revealed that sarnax himself killed a child aarakocra as a sacrifice. by then he didnt feel great about it, but a lot of the change within sarnax happened during the expedition, not before, not in the garden, not in the cult.

speaking of sacrifice, especially in the context of this song and this ask, it's hard not to talk about the lizard, the inferno in the room. the ultimate sacrifice IS sarnax who after talking about how hes gonna die and how hes never getting out of barovia DOES sacrifice himself to purge all the evil. but it wasnt the same sacrifice as the ones that happened in the garden. sarnax's final inferno was full of love and before it happened, sarnax experienced a whole lot of beautiful moments. friendship, love, family, spreading kindness. spreading edelwood trees that stand tall in barovia still, after 200 years.

i dont quite know what sarnax's approach was to all the stuff that was happening in the garden. mainly the sacrifices i mean. after all, these actions were a reaction to the abuse the cult of gherix experienced from eyrios. even though his final stance was against sacrificing, i dont doubt that he had spent his whole life thinking it was the right thing to do. and his way of thinking was blessed by gherix.

well. ultimately the cult of gherix is now GONE they all died after trying to burn eyrios down but they got killed by acid rain so. i could talk about this particular moment in a different fucking essay cause i have thoughts about it. but! sarnax's legacy goes on, the edelwood trees still stand, tommy morgan is spreading (or was spreading, he probably died atp) the word of gherix with sarnax's lantern in his hand, the chapel of lathander has a whole shrine dedicated to sarnax and gherix.

sarnax's sacrifice couldn't have been painless. he's sacrificed people (AT LEAST ONE) himself, he's killed people, he knows how painful death it. how painful it is to burn to death. but he did it willingly, the pain was worth it at the end.

(the peace didnt last forever but does that mean that sarnax's death was in vain? no. i dont think so. not after i've seen the tear stained faces of the loa crew, after mike poured so much love in beneath dark wings arc 4. not after i spent hours crying about it, not after seeing andy's reaction to "the burning of the windmill" in eom, not after "a woman mourning her friend")

that being said, i hope that the fucking apocalypse that is happening in bdw currently WILL NOT FUCKING DESTROY THE EDELWOOD TREES IN BAROVIA ILL BE PISSED. MICHAEL IRONING BOARD I WILL REQUEST PAYMENT FOR EMOTIONAL DAMAGE. but even if they do get destroyed... eom has an edelwood tree. not all hope is lost.

i hope this reply is somewhat satisfying though it turned into a whole ass ramble. the song is a banger.